#like I’m in the end days and I can feel it. the lights are going dark. the world is almost over

[drowning-rabbit]

marked up: spencer reid x artist!reader (spencer and the team)

part two of a drawn-out lullaby, based on my artist headcanons here. but each can be read separately! requested by @bookishnerd1132

word count: 1k

summary: spencer arrives late to work on the return from the holidays, leading to an interesting conversation with the BAU. fluff, suggestive

the first thing the team had noticed was the energy shift when spencer walked into the bullpen two minutes late. this was an odd occurrence for the man who stuck to his routine conscientiously. he hated being late, and it had only happened once so far in his career with the BAU. derek morgan had worsened the blow that day by slapping spencer’s back and making a joke about a late night. spencer, of course, choked and flushed bright red. then, he shut down immediately and remained closed off from embarrassment for most of the day. his explanation of why he came in late would never suffice to derek, who was convinced his favorite pretty boy had found a late night escapade. by the end of the day, even penelope was asking if he had found a special friend. so after the first time, spencer set his alarm half an hour earlier to guarantee it would never happen again. and it hadn’t, until today.

the second thing they had noticed was that he did not seem bothered by his untimely arrival. the first time he was late, he glanced nervously at gideon’s office as if he was waiting for a scolding about a few measly minutes. they remembered words spilling from his lips as soon as he rushed through the door, apologies and explanations tangling together in a flurry as he flung his messenger back onto the back of his chair.

this morning, three days after the holiday, spencer strolled in late like it was his daily routine. he looked well-rested, unusually so. he was not plagued by the usual nervous energy that surrounded him. instead, he almost seemed giddy.

when he made it to his chair and set down a light yellow travel mug on his desk, derek morgan immediately invaded his area of the office.

“reid.” he said shortly, eyeing the other man with calculated suspicion.

“morgan?” spencer questioned, and derek was already profiling. clearly flushed cheeks, a slight glow to the skin. he was also sporting slightly unkempt hair - and peeking out behind the collar of his shirt was some kind of black ink.

“what’s going on with your neck?” he pointed to the back of spencer’s plaid button-up.

“my neck?” spencer instinctively brought his hand up to the back of his head, feeling around for a bug or a stray hair. there was nothing. when he realized what derek was talking about, he blanched completely.

spencer had woken up completely rested, although late, this morning after another night of your doodles on his back. the marker had indeed done its job in lulling him to sleep. in his rush to make it to the bullpen on time, he had forgotten to wash it off of his skin.

“what about my neck?” he squeaked out in a half attempt at feigning disinterest.

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost, pretty boy. you must know what i’m talking about.” derek teased relentlessly. spencer decided to stall.

“actually, the lack of blood flow to the skin is a nervous system response called pallor and it can result from many things like anemia, poor nutrition, frostbite-“ derek placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, making him pause.

“the ink, genius. you got a back tattoo over the holiday?”

“no! i - well, yes. um… sure?” spencer choked out. he hadn't told the team about you yet. not that he didn't want to, it just never came up.

“oh, penelope, baby girl you have got to see this!” derek headed towards penelope’s office, practically skipping. it would have been hilarious if it wasn’t at his own expense. at the commotion, jj and elle headed over to his desk to participate.

"a back tattoo? i never would have thought you would go for that, reid," elle commented, leaning towards him slightly. he rolled his chair back, standing up suddenly.

"its not! tattoos are extremely painful and require extensive research and my skin is sensitive. its- my partner, okay? they’re.. an artist. its - i, this is highly unprofessional! i'm making coffee," spencer sputtered, turning on his heel.

"partner? you?" derek froze in place. him and penelope had arrived at the perfect time to see spencer raise his arms to comb through his hair in exasperation. as he did, his shirt rose slightly. at the bottom of his back lay an expanse of red marks, accompanied by a small cursive word.

penelope squealed loudly, causing spencer to drop his arms and scurry off to the break room.

she was practically bouncing on her heels. "his back said mine, derek!"

"is anyone going to mention he already has coffee?" jj added.

"and that is not his mug."

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕭REAKIN’ DISHES

Sophia Laforteza x fem!reader

summary: everyone’s obsessed with how girlfriend material sophia is, but only for a certain member of katseye. for scientific research, eyekons have made a video of moments sophia naturally acts like the gentlewoman she is

warnings: touchy!sophia, protective!sophia, fluff

(chatgpted the tagalog guys im so sorry!)

SOPHIA BEING THAT KINDA GIRLFRIEND FOR Y/N (FT. MEGAN ALWAYS CAUGHT AT THE SCENE)

17.2k likes | 330k views | 18th Dec, 24

*Loud technical difficulty transition* [ KATSEYE VLOG ] Day in the Life of KATSEYE | KATSEYE

Sophia was sporting a cool, black Drew jersey. The one you got her for her birthday after weeks of wanting it. Throughout the day, you’ve been growing tired of having the camera follow you around. Awoken by Megan and Sophia turning all the lights on in you, Daniela and Manon’s room, the blankets were yanked off your body and a kneeling Sophia tried nudging you awake.

Though Sophia’s soft voice motivated you to drag yourself out of bed, you already knew it was going to be a long day. Thank God for the breakfast the leader had made, or else you would never have been able to keep up with your PR training.

When dance rehearsal was over, your manager softly reminded all of you it was time to film tiktok’s for the Katseye instagram to promote the release of “Pop Star Academy: Katseye” on Netflix. Megan and Lara actually had a couple ideas to pitch this time around, but ultimately, the trend all seven of you seemed satisfied with was the water dumping on. Though you were staying on the more silent end of the discussion—your social battery draining rapidly with each moment your actions are streamed on video—you seemed to be voluntold.

[ Poor Y/N, she looks so tired… let my baby sleep please ]

“I think Y/N should do this one ‘cuz I’ve always wanted to dump water on her for fun,” Megan squealed, “Like I’ll do it to, but I definitely think Y/N should go first.”

You raised an eyebrow at the statement, your lips curving into a questioning smile. “Yeah, I mean… I don’t really mind it, but I wanted to do the ‘texting my sister’ one.”

The members began bickering which person should do which tiktok, and Sophia noticed you weren’t really engaged in the conversation. As the group discussed the pros and cons of hopping on certain tiktok trends, you remained silent, staring at the phone screens being shoved into the middle of the group. You nodded along with your lips pursed, uninterested in the brewing debate that was taking too long.

Eventually, Lara turned toward Y/N. "What do you think, Y/N? You’ve barely said anything. Would you be up for it?"

You hesitated, your head tilting in thought. "Um... I don’t know. I’m not really comfortable with getting soaked."

Manon frowned, raising an eyebrow. "Babe, you can do crazy ass splits and flips on a stage in front of hundreds and thousands of people, but you can’t get water chucked at you for a tiktok? What’s the difference?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but with the way your fingers had begun fidgeting with the hem of your tank, it was obvious to Sophia you were beginning to feel put on the spot. Before you could respond, Sophia interjected, her tone sharper than usual. "The difference is that it’s not the same. Y/N doesn’t owe anyone a tiktok performance, we can do another one."

Daniela being a mediator, stepped in to stop any conflict before people could take the situation out of context to fit certain narratives set during dream academy. "We’re just brainstorming, Sophia. No one’s forcing anyone."

"Good," Sophia shot back, her gaze unwavering. "Y/N can do one of the silly ones, no need to push."

[ She’s so protective of her gf it’s so AHHHHHHHHH ]

The room fell quiet for a moment, tension thick in the air. Y/N looked up at Sophia, her lips parting slightly in surprise.

"It’s fine," Y/N murmured softly. "I don’t mind doing it.”

[ She’s so cute protect her at all costs please ]

Sophia shook her head. "No, N/N, you don’t have to do it just ‘cuz eyekons want you to, okay? There’s tons of other ones we need to do, definitely no pressure."

Throughout the rest of the vlog, it was obvious Sophia had made it her mission to keep the others’—who had a significant amount more energy than you did—from walking all over you. They might not do it consciously, but the diverse personalities in this group can sometimes make things very chaotic and complicated. Sometime during the video’s dinner portion, the clip of Sophia’s hand resting on your thigh, holding you closer to her on the couch was cut into this video. The leader didn’t seem to notice, clearly actively involved in the conversations.

Megan, sitting beside you on the other side kept side-eyeing the hand on your thigh, shooting the camera a knowing look before trying to play it off like she hadn’t noticed.

[ Poor meiyok always caught third wheeling :// ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* iheartradio Youtube video of KATSEYE’s podcast episode, where the Katz all sat around a table with the host at the head. Sat in order from eldest to youngest, you were sat between Sophia and Dani

“—That’s a very nice way to think about it, Y/N.” The host chuckled, earning a ring of soft laughter from the girls as well. Your cheeks were a little warm from the attention being pinned onto you, as the last couple questions seemed to be more directed towards you—one of the better singers who were also passionate about the songwriting.

“Yeah, it helps to stay positive, especially when we’re working late and health and morale can get really low.” you mumbled into the microphone, “But I love these girls, I try and make sure everybody’s doing okay as often as I can.”

The girls cooed, Daniela reaching over to rub the older’s shoulder with a dimpled smile. The cameras were separated into four angels, one on every two member and one on the host. The one focused on Y/N and Sophia filled the screen, Daniela’s hand peeking from the right side as the older sent her a smile. Sophia just stared, her eyes soft and her smile relaxed. Not the picture-perfect one she always sported for the cameras, and the subtle way her smile grew just a little bigger when Y/N looked down in fluster didn’t escape eyekons’ eyes.

[ THE WAY SOPHIA LOOKS AT HER OMG???? ]

“That’s amazing, the girls are lucky to have you.” The man said, “So here’s one more question, since ‘My Way’ has absolutely blown up recently, You were one of the writers credited for the song, and have gained multiple critic praises for the unique touch it added to your debut album. Can you tell us what inspired you to write the song?”

You nodded along with the question, and just as you were about to answer, soft fingertips came in contact with your temple, brushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear. There was a brief moment of silence for a second, before the girls began giggling at the abrupt pause.

“Y/N… you okay there?” Lara asked between chuckles.

“Yeah, babe, you’re looking a little red.” Daniela teased.

You caressed the strand of hair Sophia tucked back, your tongue darting across your lip as you tried steadying out your nervous breath. As the others laughed and joked about your reaction to the older woman’s habitual affection, you hid your face behind your hands. You could tell by the way heat flushed to your cheeks you were getting pink. Manon playfully shoved Sophia in the shoulder.

“Sorry, I wanted to fix Y/N’s hair.”

“Oh my God, Sophia, you broke Y/N,” the Ghanaian woman snorted, “Really did that your way, huh?”

“Mhm, stream ‘My Way’ on Soft is Strong, guys, so Sophia can keep doing things her way.” Megan added, the members humming and nodding in response to the not so subtle segway into promoting their album.

You were thankful the attention seemed to pull away from you. Running a hand through your hair and recollecting yourself.

[ THEY’RE SO CUTE IM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH ]

“Anyway, Y/N, you good to answer the question—?”

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Daniela and Manon’s Weverse live started off in their own hotel room, but after some freakouts and close-faced segments to hide their rooms from the camera, they somehow found their way to you and Sophia’s, where the other girls were hanging about

“No, wait, please! There’s no wifi!” Daniela screamed, the phone filming from under her face as she ran across the halls to another room. She pounded her fist against the door, impatiently humming before she knocked harshly again. “Guys, open up, there’s no wifi out here!”

The door clicked open to reveal a very confused Lara, who glanced between Daniela and the phone. “Wha—?”

Daniela pushes past Lara to enter the room, and as she sets it down on the TV cabinet, Megan could be seen playing roblox with Yoonchae on one bed, the two of them focused on their own phones as they bickered about the game. You and Sophia were snuggled up on the other bed, her hand over the pillow behind your head with her hood up. You laid under her arm, your phone in your hands. You were wearing some really high shorts, a lacey top and some socks, so your instinctive reaction was immediately to adjust the way you were sitting before you accidentally flashed everybody.

Sophia eyed the Latina bursting into the room, immediately catching the familiar Weverse live setup on her phone screen. The first thing she did was set her phone down, moving the blanket from under the both of you to cover your legs up. Her expression was hard, focused on protecting your body first.

The clip was edited to zoom in on the two of you in the background the split moment you were seen before Daniela moved to cover the both of you up after catching the look Lara was shooting her to the side (not that y’all could see). Sophia’s face looked murderous though.

“Daniela, you’re gonna get us doxxed.” Sophia barked from behind, still shielded away from the cameras, “Did you just run down the hall with the camera on?”

The blonde shook her head, “No, no, I had the camera up close to my face like this.” She grabbed the phone, pulling it close to her nose before setting it back down. “Manon had an emergency call, so I had to leave the room, but I made sure they couldn’t see anything other than me.”

[ Dani definitely got yelled at by Sophia after this… ]

user01 am i crazy or was laforl/n cuddling in the back jn

user02 WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABT LAFORL/N

user03 The way they immediately moved apart like they were caught red handed

user04 dani just saw her life flash before her eyes

Eventually, everybody seemed to join in on the live. And even though Sophia was reserved at first, still sporting her grey hoodie and some basketball shorts, she came to sit behind Daniela and Megan who were on the floor. After changing into some sweats, you took a seat behind Megan, wrapping your arms around the girl as you rested your cheek atop her head.

Sophia’s hand instinctively found the small of your back, running up and down your spine as she argued with Lara about which Mik Mik about was better. You joined the conversation, telling Yoonchae and Megan the milk one was better than the chocolate before you and Megan began playfully fighting.

“Whatever, I don’t like you or your taste in Mik Mik.” Megan huffed, holding a hand up to your face.

“Is this because you think I’m ugly?” you bit back, pouting.

Sophia’s head immediately snapped towards you, her hand ceasing its comforting pattern along your back.

“Who said you were ugly?” Her head turning to the girls, narrowing her eyes. “Who made her say that about herself?”

Megan’s hands flew up in defence, but the immediate reaction gave Sophia the answer she needed before she hooked an arm around the younger’s neck, leaning down so her lips were just beside Megan’s ear to whisper, “Do you think she’s ugly, Skiendiel?”

The Indian woman shook her head, “No, ma’am.”

Sophia nodded, humming. Her arm noosed around Megan’s neck tighter. “So what do you have to say to Y/N, hm?”

user05 GYATT DAMN OKAY DADDY SOPHIA

user06 Y/N pop them legs open-

user07 WHAT THE FUCK SHES SO BF???

Megan grabbed your hands, looking deep into the older member’s eyes. “Y/N, baby, you are the most beautiful and precious being I have ever laid my eyes on and I’m sorry if, even for one second, made you think anything less, that is a hundred percent my fault and I am so deeply sorry.”

With a kiss to your forehead, Megan looks back at Sophia, who nodded with a satisfied hum. Her eyebrows furrowed and her jaw clenched. She slung her arm over your shoulder.

“That’s much better.” Sophia said, leaning to whisper in your ear, “Never ever, ever call yourself ugly, you understand?”

[ Love that she’s whispering like it’s just them ]

You nod, a hand over her shorts on her thigh. Her breath tickled the curve of your ear, the two of you sitting close and personal the whole live, which the eyekons ate up.

user08 nobody talk to me please

user09 sophia for being the responsible one you’re forgetting your pr training really hard rn

user10 Get me a woman who’d choke someone out if they called me ugly

user11 THEYRE SO GLARINGLY OBVIOUS WTF

*Loud technical difficulty transition* [ WEVERSE LIVE ] Sophia’s sitting on the floor of her room and asking eyekons how she should place stickers on her laptop

“I feel like the anchor should go next to the hibiscus (your charm) like this, y’know?” Sophia propped her laptop up, holding the stickers in place with her fingers before placing it down. Her face scrunched in thought, “I don’t know though, what do you guys think?”

[ She even wants their charms together hold my tea- ]

user01 yes laforty/n should be together in every universe

user02 Put the Katseye logo in the middle!!

user03 Doesn’t Y/N have your charm in her phone case

A knock sounded through the room before Sophia could answer any of the fans’ comments. Her head snapped towards the noise, seeing a translucent figure through the door. “Yeah? Who is it?”

“It’s me. Sophia, sweetie, I have a question.”

user04 SWEETIE IS CRAZY WORK

user05 the way i could recognize y/n’s voice is criminal

user06 Their PR team sweatin rn

Sophia got up to unlock her door quickly, sitting back down with her head turned towards Y/N. You were slightly onscreen, but not fully in view for everybody. You had on one of Lara’s tops, a pair of flare y2k jeans and a bandana wrapped around your hair. Even in the side, eyekons could see you twirling and spinning in place as Sophia’s eyes raked over your figure.

“Does this outfit look stupid? Megan said I should lose the bandana and wear sunnies, but I think this gives more of my vibe, y’know?” You said, smoothing out your shirt.

Sophia’s lips slowly curled into a smile, her eyes still darting up and down to take in your whole outfit. She especially liked the hoops you were wearing, the ones you and Daniela bought to match. God, she absolutely loved being your fashion critic. “I think you look hot,” she smirked, “Why don’t you ask eyekons.”

It was only then did you catch the phone sitting before her, the hearts and likes on live spiked immediately at your arrival.

“Sophia, I look so bad right now, you could’ve given me a warning!” You yelped, jumping out of frame in surprise. Sophia chuckled, looking back at her phone before turning back to you. She scootched closer, holding an arm out. “You never look bad, bebe. Don’t be shy, come say ‘hi’ to everybody.”

user07 I HEARD TAGALOG

user08 my filipino dad just asked if someone called me baby

user09 THE FILIPINA PET NAME IM CRYING

You walked into her open arm, letting her hand rest on the other side of your hip. You waved at the camera, smiling. “Sorry to interrupt, guys, I didn’t know Sophia was on live.”

“No, no, you didn’t interrupt,” Sophia immediately interrupted, “If anything, the eyekons were probably getting bored of me.” She pointed at the view count, as it rose from 13k to now a hefty 21k, everybody’s tuning in just ‘cuz you walked in.”

user10 quick to comfort her girlfriend i see

user11 Uhm nobody talking abt how fine y/n looks rn??

user12 i want laforty/n crumbs or i’ll starve

“Sounds like everybody likes the outfit,” Sophia snorted, instinctively fixing your jeans up higher so you wouldn’t flash anything you wouldn’t want to. “I’d say trust the eyekons’s sense of fashion more than Megan’s, ‘cuz between us, the girl gets mistaken for Adam Sandler way too often.”

You nodded, adjusting the bandana on your head.

“Completely agree. You guys are always glammed up and ready for a runway whenever we see you in person. There’s so many pretty eyekons out there, I can fill a book with the amount of compliments I don’t get to say at shows.” You scanned the comments, keeping a poker face as you glanced over the amount of Laforty/n comments. “Anyways, I should go. Manon and I are getting ready to leave.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow, silently asking you where the two of you were heading. You took a step offscreen to tell her you were going to pick up some booze for the girls. She nodded.

[ Sophia’s hand placement hello? ]

You waved to the camera, blowing the live a kiss before you got up to leave. “I’ll see you soon, eyekons. I love you!”

“I’ll miss you, bebe.” Sophia called after your disappearing figure, watching you close the door off camera. “Come back home on time for dinner, Yoonchae and I are making jjigae.”

[ #DOMESTICLAFORTY/N IS MY DRUG ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* [ KATSEYE VLOG ] Yoonchae’s Graduation Party (KATZ EDITION) | KATSEYE

Daniela and Manon were quickly put in charge of decorations for the party they were throwing for Yoonchae’s high school graduation. While Megan was out distracting their maknae, the rest of Katseye buzzed on with their respective roles for the party. Lara was asked to help set up some partitions and strings for Manon and Daniela to hang things on. Leaving you and Sophia in charge of food.

“Y/N, can you hand me the chocolate chips?” the Filipina asked, focused on mixing up the dough in her bowl. She stuck a finger in, tasting some off the tip of her pinkie. “Hm, I think Yoonchae will want these a little sweeter, can you help me grab more sugar too, bebe?”

[ I looked it up guys ‘bebe’ literally means baby—SOPHIA LAFORTEZA CALLS Y/N L/N BABY IN TAGALOG ]

You hummed, moving around the kitchen to grab whatever the leader asked for. The editors of the video added some really cute lofi music to the two of you working cohesively, adding some adorable effects and cute captions here and there.

“Is it tasting okay?” you asked, your chin on her shoulder. She was taller so you peeked over her down at the bowl.

Sophia didn’t reply, instead, she grabbed the spoon to the side, taking a big scoop of cookie dough onto the spoon nicely. She didn’t move her body, finding comfort in the warmth of you against her. Her head turned, her hand raising to carefully stick the spoon into your mouth, her other hand held under your lips to catch whatever dough didn’t make it to your lips.

You moan softly at the sweet taste, eyes fluttering shut.

“Good then?” Sophia chuckled at the way you melted into her, “You’re eating more than you’re making.” She teased softly, glancing at you with a small smile.

You shrugged, “Quality control. You want some kimbap?”

She hummed in response. You returned to your kimbap, rolling the seaweed tightly and slicing it into neat rounds. A moment later, your concentration is cut and you held up one.

“Open up,” you said, fingers coming in contact with her lips gently as you set the food into her mouth.

She nodded, a hand up to her mouth to hide her chewing from the cameras. The editors added a sparkle effect to her eyes, as she eyed your growing smile. “It’s perfect,” she complimented, the tangy and salty taste lingering in her mouth.

“Does that mean I get more cookie dough?” you asked, feeling a bit bolder. You pouted, looking at her with hopeful eyes.

Her tilted her head. “We can’t eat all the food, it’s supposed to be more Yoonchae…” It took one look at your expression for her to immediately change her mind. “I’ll give you one more bite and that’s it until these are done, okay?”

You smiled, “Yes, ma’am.”

Once you had your second spoonful of dough, Manon and Daniela came in to check on the two of you. Upon spotting the bowl of dough Sophia was setting into small scoops on a tray, she gasped, immediately jogging over to hover over the leader.

“Sophia, can I have a bite, please? Pretty please!” she begged, bouncing on her feet, “That looks so good, oh my God.”

Sophia wagged a finger, focused on setting the dough down on the tray. “No, Dani, last time you wanted a bite you finished half the bowl. Nobody touches these until they’re done.”

The blonde whined, “Come on, just one… please?”

“You’ll get one when they’re done, Daniela Avanzini.”

You eyed the camera with a guilty smile, knowing you were the only one Sophia had trouble saying ‘no’ to.

[ Sophia has a soft spot for y/n… so real ]

[starmocha]

i'm on the run with you, my sweet love [Sylus/Reader ★ 3737 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Forever your ride or die. A/N: Happy New Year! I’ve had this story written since Christmas 2024, but I had decided to save it to ring in the new year instead. Kind of based on my favorite Sylus phone call: As You Wish. This is…very………vague…….something…… I’m here for the vibes mostly. :’) Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @voidsylus @rose-tinted-kalopsia @valkyyriia 【 request to be added 】

When everything came to a pause, when the whole world had shifted and all eyes were on you, a bounty had been placed on your head and your name suddenly known to the whole universe.

He had whisked you away, his hand in yours, no questions asked.

Where you go, I’ll go with you, he had said, his hold firm, his vow unyielding.

It’s not safe with me. They’ll get you, too, you had warned, giving his hand a little squeeze, almost afraid that you would lose him as well.

Sounds exciting, sweetie.

He had smirked, his lips on yours, a promise that nothing would ever sever his bond with you.

Your arms wrapped around his waist, head pressed to his back, and the sound of his motorcycle raced down the dusty road to nowhere. A trail of dust was left behind, the heat of the sun bore down on you, and the unknown future awaited both of you in the distance.

On the way to the end of the world, you said goodbye to what you had once thought was home, all of the people who had ever loved you were gone.

Except him.

Are you crying?

…No…

Let me hold you. For me.

…Okay…just for you, though…

Thank you, sweetie.

In an unassuming shabby safehouse, one of many he owned around the world, you felt a moment of peace, as false as it may be.

He paced the living room, exhaustion etched on his features. He still hadn’t adjusted to this daytime schedule, and though not a word of complaint or discomfort ever left his lips, you knew he had been pushing himself to his limits to keep you safe.

Sylus, you called, worried, come rest.

He reassured you with a smile, a near perfect façade had it been anyone else he was trying to fool. You knew when he would put on a mask, and you didn’t like it—you were upset that he was lying to you for your sake.

I’m tired, you fibbed, Can we nap together?

Strange how you didn’t feel any qualms about lying for his sake instead. You supposed you were a hypocrite.

Very well. He seemed to concede. What a fussy kitten.

There was no malice in his words. There never were.

You guided his head to your lap, his body barely fitting on the small sofa, but it would do. You stroked his hair, seeing him surrendering to his exhaustion—surrendering to you, as well.

You hummed a song, something light and soothing. His soft snoring soon joined your melody, the two sounds bringing life to this long unoccupied house.

For a moment, this unassuming, shabby safehouse almost felt like a home.

It would be nice to make this place a true home with him, you thought. Some fresh flowers, a little sunlight, and maybe a picture or two could help with the illusion.

Such wishful thinking. You knew in a few days you would both need to leave. This was only temporary.

You needed to go farther—to the place where everything was new and you were nothing more than an unknown drifter seeking something permanent.

For now, though, you both rested. You let your song soothed him, just as his presence had given you hope.

You often wondered what permanent looked like. You also wondered if you and he had the same definition for the word. There were more idle times now than before, so you both humored one another with your own thoughts and whims.

A little cottage in the woods, you thought aloud as you and he lazed about on the couch. You could have a little vegetable garden, and maybe you could also learn how to make your own bread as well.

He could hunt, or perhaps, he could also put his fishing skills to use.

You might even raise chickens. Maybe some ducks, too.

Sweetie, you have it all planned out, he teased, pinching your cheek.

You swatted his hand away, but you couldn’t deny this. You had thought about this life. Thought about it often, in fact. You couldn’t help it. It seemed you had more time to let your mind wander.

Well, you weren’t alone. He also had his own thoughts, his own vision he wished to share.

A seaside house on a cliff, he suggested, adding, We could watch dolphins from the balcony. And have a gin fizz or two.

You laughed and shook your head. What, no tequila?

Tequila can be for breakfast, he added, matching your humor with the same tone and a playful smirk.

We could also have a hot tub on the deck, he added with a lecherous smirk on his handsome face. A nice soak as we watch the sun set over the horizon.

Yeah? Your heart beat faster, his lips looming near yours.

We could also stargaze together, he continued in that same easy tone. So teasingly close, his lips just barely ghosted against yours. He must be doing this on purpose, wanting to see you fluster and squirm because of him. What a scoundrel.

You have it all planned out, you echoed his earlier words back to him, his immediate response that nearly insufferable trademark smirk of his. You caved in first, eagerly taking his lips, wanting to quell the growing heat between the two of you.

He succumbed to your whims, his back suddenly against the couch cushions, your body on top of his. He answered your desperation with his own, all lucid thoughts leaving as you both submitted to your instincts, letting your desires guide you both to Heaven and Hell and back again.

An apartment in the city.

In the city? Again, sweetie?

What better place than hidden in plain sight?

A clever kitten.

You remembered wining and dining under starry skies. The rich food filled your belly wonderfully and the aged wine tasted like the sacred nectar of the gods. Blissfully tipsy, you remembered dancing with him on a rooftop, swaying and twirling, feeling like you were on cloud nine as the stars above shined brilliantly while city lights twinkled and gleamed.

In a humid, cramped bus, you leaned against his shoulder, remembering distant memories that might as well just be silly old fairy tales.

The days blended together. Most days, you weren’t sure if it was Monday or Tuesday, or perhaps it was neither, and it was actually Thursday.

He had acquired a car. Temporary, just like everything else in your life had been these past few months. As he filled the car with gas, you wandered into the convenience store. That particular scent hit you instantly, a strange feeling of nostalgia for something you had never missed.

You wandered down the aisles, hand skimming over the different snacks on display. None of them really caught your eyes or stirred up a craving, but you still picked out a few just in case. As you were checking out, you also grabbed an ice cream bar. The heat was unbearable and a strawberry shortcake bar suddenly sounded enticing. You missed the taste of fresh fruits, something that you never thought would one day be scarce and a sudden luxury.

As you left the store, ice cream bar unwrapped and the refreshing, cooling sweet taste on your tongue, you remembered the time when you and he went to pick strawberries together.

He had already finished refilling the gas tank. As he leaned against the car waiting for you, sunglasses over his eyes, you approached him, holding the cold treat up.

Want a bite?

He smirked, and took a generous bite to your dismay.

H-hey! That was a big bite!

Sorry, sweetie. He didn’t sound apologetic at all. What a prick.

I hope you get brain freeze.

And he laughed, already getting back into the car with you following suit. When you turned to buckle your seatbelt, his hand was on your cheek, already guiding you to his lips. He kissed you sweetly, nibbling on your lips as he tasted you.

When he parted, he smirked at your confusion, your breathing still shaky.

You had ice cream on your lips, he answered matter-of-factly.

Flustered, it took your brain a few seconds too long to register his mischievous words. When it finally clicked, you leaned back over, this time surprising him as you took charge. You kissed as if it was your last, as if he was the air that you needed, and he responded with equal fervor, treating you like a gift bestowed upon him by the highest being, or perhaps more like a forbidden treasure he had greedily coveted. Before the growing lust could cloud your mind, all semblance of reality returned when you heard the incessant honking from the car behind you, and had he been in a sour mood, perhaps there would have been an altercation, one that would end horrendously for the other party, of course.

But he smirked. He leered at the car behind him before speeding off. As he drove, you noticed him licking his lips.

Strawberry, he said, pondering, We should get this ice cream bar again.

You agreed, delighting in the taste of him that still lingered on your lips.

All thoughts disappeared, all of those dirty matrasses from dingy motel rooms didn’t seem to matter. You would always welcome him into you, the late, long nights of lovemaking a sweet escape from the reality you lived. In these little moments of you and him, he was your whole world and you were his. Deep kisses branded your skin, the heated moans of you and him mingled with every movement, every pulse, the need to chase after that paradise heightened by the shared growing passion.

You had memorized his every feature, his every being. The jewel-like crimson eyes of his always reflecting his deep devotion to you, the promise to always surrender to you had long been fulfilled. With every searing hot touch, he worshiped you like a devout man knelt at the altar of a goddess, beseeching her blessings.

He satisfied all of your needs, your desires his to fulfill, willingly and devotedly. No rules to bind you, nothing more to lose, you succumbed to your desires, drifting off to a state of pure euphoria only he could bring you to, just as you were all that he longed for, the only one who he would let rule his heart and bring him to his knees.

When you returned from your high, with the threat of dawn looming, he held you close, gentle fingers threading through your hair soothingly, his warm, deep voice feeling like home.

He lulled you with words of a distant future.

Maybe…we can get a dog.

You laughed. You don’t seem like a dog person, you reminded him, your finger poking his cheek in jest.

He smiled, and grabbed your wrist. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, the simple act had you stilling with pretty rosy cheeks, illuminated in the dark by a single ray of moonlight.

A cat then, he said, his voice teasing. He stroked your cheek, his fingers just barely skimming against your skin. Maybe two, so she wouldn’t be lonely.

Yeah? you asked, breathless, What else?

He hummed as he contemplated. White picket fences…Have coffee ready for you in the morning…red checkered blanket and a picnic under the sun…

It doesn’t sound like you… you quipped.

It could be me, he responded, his hand moving to tuck strands of hair behind your ear, his soft voice continuing, It could be us. And also—

His words stopped abruptly, sparking your curiosity. You questioned him, but he only answered with an ambiguous smile and a dismissive, amused shake of his head, as if what he was thinking was nothing of importance to dwell further.

It’s late, he whispered, kissing your forehead, Sleep, my beloved.

As you settled more comfortably into his embrace, you felt his hand resting over your lower abdomen, the touch unlike any other time he would embrace you. As your heavy eyelids closed, you realized the words he had withheld, the hopeful future even he seemed too scared to voice into existence.

In your dream, you could have sworn you heard the pitter-patters of small feet on hardwood floor, and his voice full of joy as he effortlessly swept up into his strong arms two little children, a boy and a girl, perfect blends of you and him.

Such a shame that it was only a dream, you thought the morning after in bed as you watched him shaved the five o’ clock shadow from his face in the dirty motel bathroom.

In the mirror reflection, he noticed you sitting up in bed, the cover barely covering your nude body, hair in disarray, and he smiled. You smiled back.

Such a shame indeed, you thought again, feeling a strange ache in your chest as your mind drifted back to the little boy and girl in your dream.

It was amazing how you still had an appetite.

Eggs and bacon seemed extra delicious at diners in the middle of nowhere. As if stuck in time, it looked nothing like the modern eateries you were familiar with. Black and white checkered flooring, large red booths, an old barely working jukebox in a corner—everything seemed like it was untouched by modern advancements, living peacefully in its own world of idle monotony.

As you finished your meal, he stood up, walking over to the ancient jukebox out of curiosity.

He perused the song choices, brows furrowed in contemplation before he settled on one:

In the still of the night / I held you / Held you tight.

Your head lifted at the smooth crooning, eyes meeting his just as he walked back to the booth, his hand extended to you. Silently, a little embarrassed, you took his hand, just like you always seemed to do.

Promise I’ll never / Let you go.

He twirled you around before his hand found your waist, steadying you as he moved you to the rhythm of the music. In the near empty diner, you danced with him, remembering a time long ago, you two had also waltzed just like this.

To keep your precious love.

Your head rested against his chest, his arms around you as he swayed you gently to the music as it faded to silence. Even long after the song had ended, you stayed in his arms, holding firmly onto the one constancy you still held from your past.

Things could get worse.

I’ll be there every step of the way.

An old television set, from decades ago, flashed for an instance a photo of you. Without words, he had dropped a generous amount of bills on the table, his hand already reaching for yours and taking you away before anyone could be wiser.

By the time the waitress had come to clear the table, her tired mind suddenly realizing as she looked from the television back to the empty booth, the young couple had already left town. Discreetly, she tucked away the extra bills into her bra, and resumed her monotonous day, blissfully ignorant and a few hundred dollars richer.

In an old convertible from long ago, driving down an endless, deserted road, you woke up in the passenger seat to his—peculiar—singing alongside the car radio:

No matter what you are / I will always be with you / Doesn’t matter what you do, girl.

You giggled and he turned to look at you momentarily before his eyes redirected to the long road ahead. The radio continued to play the song as you and he conversed:

You’re actually laughing at me, he quipped. You’re so cruel, sweetie.

With you, you corrected him cheekily.

Funny, I wasn’t aware that I was laughing.

You were, you insisted audaciously.

In that case, laugh with me then, sweetie.

You giggled again. I don’t know this song.

His eyes remained ahead, but his right hand reached over to rest on your thigh. He squeezed you gently in reassurance, and as the song neared the end, he sang along again, Ooh girl, you girl, want you.

The radio played the next song, but you settled in your seat, his hand still resting on your thigh and you hummed again the previous song before the gentle drive lulled you back to sleep again. As your consciousness faded away, you heard distantly his voice singing the current song:

So sleep, silent angel, go to sleep / Sometimes / All I need is the air that I breathe / And to love you.

The time that passed made the line between reality and dream blurred. The life you lived, running away with him felt more dreamlike with each passing day as you bounced from old motels to grand estates to the most discreet safehouses he owned. Nothing in either of your life felt permanent right now, except for each other, the only constancy in this reckless fleeing.

You had both discarded your names, only taking them back at night when you were both truly alone, feeling like two lost souls abandoned by the universe. In the dark, you moaned each other’s name, such lovely sounds as warm breath ghosted over slicked skin.

Your hands lightly touched his face, his eyes always locked with yours. Your shuddering gasps and his barely-restrained moans followed in suits as his hands gripped tighter your hips, guiding you up and down on his length. You kissed him, crying as he pierced you again and again, his movements rushing as he felt you nearing your release.

…I can’t…I need to…Sy…please…please…

Hngh…ye-yes…

He was panting, his eyes darkened by the heavy arousal of seeing you, his beloved, falling apart for him—because of him. You arched forward into him, his name spilling out from your lips and pleasure coursed through your entire being. With a few more rushed thrusts, his own release came, his deep groans resonated in your ears as he filled you full.

Collapsed on him, you both rested lazily together with his softened member still inside you and his seed dripping obscenely down your thighs. You hummed into his skin, boneless and satisfied, his warmth so familiar and addicting.

Just two nobody’s in the world, but in this moment, it felt like no one else existed and you were both truly the last of your kind.

How heavenly.

Away, away, you ran from town to town, the final destination only a vague dream. The further you ran, the lighter your heart felt. In his eyes, the bird that was caged was now soaring high. His only wish was to save her before her wings were clipped, and now he would follow her wherever she would take him, her song beckoning him to a paradise for two.

Don’t let go.

Sweetie, you’re stuck with me for life.

Higher and higher, you soared, the sun threatening to scorch your wings.

If you fall, you knew he would be there to catch you. So, you continued to fly, your hand outstretched. All of Heaven would be yours to command. You were going to unlock paradise, a place for two kindred spirits, the last of their kinds, forevermore tethered to one another.

Eventually, the dream came to an end, life catching up within a flash.

You had grown a little careless, believing that you were just a nobody drifting through life, forgetting that there was still a hefty bounty to your name.

Someone had seen your face. Someone had snitched. You wondered if they truly believed you were dangerous, or perhaps it was merely just human greed that drove them to expose you. You supposed it didn’t really matter in the end now. It was all over anyway.

You looked to him, and he to you. A silent exchange of words, an understanding reached.

The distant sirens grew louder and louder as they approached your final hideout.

There was banging outside the motel room, scattered voices calling for your surrender. There would be no negotiation. It wouldn’t matter if they dragged your dead body out instead. On command, a red laser dot maneuvered into the room from the open window, aligning to your head. Your heart was racing, but you stayed grounded, your eyes locked on his.

In just seconds, everything was about to change.

Five.

Four.

Do you trust me? he asked, his hand held out.

With my life, you answered automatically, your hand in his, and with a tug, you were pulled into his familiar warmth, safe and secured as a gunshot sounded and the glass window shattered. His large hand pressed your head gently to his chest, shielding you from the sounds, and just like that, you both left this world behind, disappearing into the swirls of red and black mist he had summoned before the motel door came crashing down.

One.

The end.

Somewhere, in another place, in another time, you woke up to clear blue skies, white picket fences, the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen, and you heard his laughter mingling with the sweet giggles of two little children.

You hummed pleasantly into your pillow, the sounds of footsteps getting louder and louder until the bedroom door opened. The bed shifted, his heavy weight on you, and your children’s assaulting kisses stealing away your breath and laughter.

Joyful tears brimmed your eyes, your belly aching tremendously from helpless laughter, and your heart at peace as he gazed down at you, his love steadfast and true.

It was almost nine in the morning, but you stayed lounging in bed, surrounded by all that mattered to you. Your children snuggled close to you on either side, your one free hand reached out for his, his hold ever familiar and constant.

His smile mirrored yours, the same devotion in his eyes just like long ago when he took this same hand and whisked you away, running and running until you found your home again at the end of the world.

His thumb caressed yours, his honeyed voice a sweet lullaby. I love you.

And you smiled back. I love you more.

He laughed, surrendering once more to you, always for you.

The past seemed distant, the future too far away. Cradled in the present, in this instance, the world seemed at peace again, and life moved on.

[mochie85]

When The Ball Drops

Summary: A continuation of "Have Mercy." Loki tries so hard to get you to kiss him again but you resist him. Until he comes up with a plan on New Year's Eve. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: Over 3.5k Warnings: Fluff, kissing, cameos from multiple Avengers, the use of Y/N

It had been weeks since you saved Loki’s life and brought him back from his near-death experience. Or as Loki fondly likes to call it, “the time you asked him out on a date.” He was relentless with his flirtations towards you. He would seek you out at all hours, multiple times a day, just to wear you down.

One time he caught you by the kitchen pouring yourself a cup of coffee. “There you are, my angel.” He slid on the side of the counter, pulling up right next to you. “I have a headache. Do you think you could kiss it and make it all better?” he crooned so sweetly.

“No,” you answered him flatly and walked away, sipping your coffee.

Or, that time you were kickboxing with Sam. While Loki and Thor just happened to be training on the mat across from you. Thor had knocked him down with a single blow. Loki immediately cried to you from the floor. “Darling! My brother doesn’t seem to know the difference between practice and actual combat. Could you spare me a kiss so that I can continue and teach him a lesson?” He lay on the floor with his hair falling from the loose bun he kept it in. His arms spread apart, looking up at you through thick, long lashes.

“No, Loki!” You were so irritated that you took your fighting gloves off and threw them on the floor. Missing his head by an inch. Loki didn’t even flinch as he watched you storm off in anger. “Go to med-bay if you’re injured!”

“My angel,” Loki purred this morning after a team meeting. “I seem to have a paper cut on my finger. Can you-”

“No! Loki I will not kiss you!” you asserted, gathering your materials to get out of there quickly.

“I was going to suggest you lick it. But if that’s what you prefer, I’ll take it as a consolation prize,” he smiled and puckered his lips towards you. Your palms had never itched more, wanting to slap the kiss right off his mouth. You growled in frustration as you turned on your heel and walked out.

Loki heard light chuckles coming from the end of the large meeting table. Wilson and Barnes were shaking their heads, having watched the whole scene play out. “Is there something that you two find amusing?”

“Ya, man. You!” Wilson answered.

“I’m glad my shortcomings amuse you,” Loki answered with a slight upturn of his lip.

“Let me give you some advice,” Sam said walking over to him.

“Not warranted. Nor requested.”

“I’ma give it to you anyway.” Sam clapped a hand on Loki’s shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. “You need to chill.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki said astounded.

“The more you push, the harder she resists,” Barnes interjected.

“Stop harassing her,” Sam continued.

“You, constantly being around her, reminding her of that kiss, is not gonna go well for you,” Barnes added.

“Are you saying that she regretted healing me?” Loki questioned.

“No,” they both answer in unison.

“Anyone can see that she was smitten with you from day one!” Sam declared.

“And she wouldn’t just kiss anybody. She offered to heal my arm once, though,” Barnes said to Wilson. “I wonder if she would’ve kissed me then?” He said introspectively, biting his lip in thought. Loki sneered at the notion.

“But she thinks that you’re just teasing her. That you’re not sincere with your feelings and you’re just looking for a way to provoke or annoy her.”

“I honestly don’t know how I can make it any clearer for her that I’m interested other than to ask her flat-out naked!”

“NO!” they both screamed again.

“Well, it would've worked on Asgard.” Loki pouted, crossing his arms as he sat on the ledge of the conference table.

“I’m sure it would’ve,” Sam nodded sarcastically. “Look, do you really like her?” Loki gave him a sardonic look, appalled that Wilson would even ask such a question.

“Then prove to her that you’re worthy of her affections. Wait for her to ask you. That way you’ll know she wants you too and not just because she’s trying to save your life.” At this last drop of wisdom, Barnes and Wilson left Loki in the conference room, pondering ways to prove his sincerity towards you.

You hurried towards your room, scenes from the last moments with Loki replaying in your mind. How could everything have gone tits up in just a couple of weeks?! You left the meeting today exhausted more than ever. You weren’t sure if it was misplaced gratitude for saving his life or if he genuinely is attracted to you but you didn’t think you could resist Loki anymore.

You know he’s just mocking you about what happened. He doesn’t have any real feelings towards you. It’s in his nature to be playful. But every time he comes anywhere near you and he puckers those lips of his, your knees buckle and you almost give in.

Screw it! If he wants to tease you so badly, maybe you could call his bluff and kiss him back. Perhaps then he’ll realize that his joke had gone way too far and he’d stop. Yes! The next time he teases you, you’ll kiss him right back.

But he never did. After weeks of trying to get under your skin, he finally relented. Morning coffee breaks were innocuous and pleasant. Sometimes, he would have a cup waiting for you, just the way you like it. No quips. No lewd gestures about kissing. Just a handsome smile and a friendly, helping hand.

There were times you would see him walk out of the training rooms with Thor, holding on to his side in pain. You were ready for him to make a quick jab about needing your kiss to heal the ache. But none ever came. Only a quick, “Hello, darling,” in passing as he limped off in the direction of med-bay. You’ve missed your chance.

Days later, holiday lights still glittered around the buildings of New York. Remnants of Christmas still decorated Fifth Avenue. The frigid air nipped at your cheeks making you hold on to your faux mink tighter.

Tony’s New Year’s Eve party was different this year. No celebrities. No politicians. Just the Avengers, along with the friends and family that loved them. He had rented the whole rooftop of the Marriott Marquis, overlooking Times Square. Soft velvet settees were strewn across the space under a luxurious pergola and a fantastic view of the ball waiting to be dropped.  

Lounging next to one of the many heat lamps, you wrapped your coat tighter around your shoulders. “So, who are you kissing when the clock strikes midnight?” Nat asked you, pouring you a glass of Bollinger. Her red lipstick was as bright as her hair. With one side of her fur falling down her shoulder, she looked like the classic Hollywood vixen, ready for her next close-up. Fitting for tonight’s Vintage Hollywood theme.

“I don’t know,” you lied, taking the stem from her hand. You knew exactly who you wanted to kiss tonight. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Liar.” She said so cooly. You smirked, chastising yourself for trying to lie to one of the world’s best interrogators. “I bet I could guess who!” She sang as you rolled your eyes.

“Even if I did want one of them to kiss me, that doesn’t mean that they will.”

“Come on. I’m sure one of them would love to snog you at midnight,” she chuckled. “An extra blessing of good health and fortune for the coming year…” She wagged her eyebrows and elbowed you.

“Oh, please.”

“Ok, there’s Steve.”

“Your ex?!”

“Ya!”

“No!” you exclaimed.

“He’s a great kisser.”

“Then why don’t you kiss him at midnight”

“We’re trying to get YOU kissed. Not me, remember? OK, what about Thing 1 and Thing 2?” She said pointing to Sam and Bucky.

“No,” you said laughing.

“Why not?”

“No. I just don’t see them that way. It’ll make for an awkward kiss.”

“How ‘bout Bruce?”

“Bruce isn’t even here.” You said looking around the party.

“Ok then, what about Thor?”

“He’s with Jane.”

“Why not try your luck with tall, dark, and stabby then?” she said pointing to Loki with her champagne flute. You snorted at her nickname for Loki nearly spilling champagne as you took a calculated sip. “Oh my god!”

“Nat! Please. Keep your voice down!”

“No one can hear me! It’s a loud party.”

“Yes, a party with superhuman beings who have superhuman hearing!”

“Good! Maybe he’ll make a move!” She said slightly louder, hoping to grab his attention.

“Shh! Shh! Keep it down!” you laughed as you tried to calm her. “He’s been making moves. But I think…I dropped the ball on this one.” You looked over to where Loki was standing, trying to see if he had caught anything that Nat was saying. He was standing proud, having a conversation with Steve. His long black coat fit him snugly while the fur lining of his collar accented his sharp jaw. His gloved hand squeezed tightly around the cane he was holding, making you wonder if he did hear Nat. God, to have that gloved hand wrapped around my neck.

“He’s staring at you.” You heard Nat whisper to your ear.

“What?!” you turned to Nat and then back to Loki quickly, meeting his stare. You were so caught up in imagining his hands that you missed his eyes on you.

You see Loki and Steve staring at both of you, saying things under hushed tones. “They’re probably looking at you,” you explained. “What’s the deal between you and Steve, anyway?” You changed the subject.  “How long has it been since you guys talked?”

“A while.”

“How long is a whi-”

“Listen, since I don’t have anyone to kiss either, why don’t we just kiss each other at midnight? Deal?”

You paused at her ability to change the subject. You gave her a knowing look but allowed her to escape your scrutiny. “Deal!” you sighed, giggling as you clinked your glasses again and took sips readying for round two.

Loki smirked as he listened to your entire conversation. Up until now, he’s been patiently waiting for you to come to him. Giving you compliments. Finding small but lingering ways to touch you. He didn’t know if his tactics were working until he overheard your conversation with Agent Romanoff. He was confident you returned his affections.

Nerves shot through his entire body. Excitement and anxiety all rolled into one giant emotion he could not define. Who knew that Barnes and Wilson’s advice would work? “Tell me, Rogers, what is this tradition you guys have about kissing each other at midnight?” Loki asked as he watched you and Romanoff.

Steve followed Loki’s stare and saw you and Natasha lounging and laughing over a bottle of champagne. He remembered how he and Nat kissed at midnight last year, promising each other to try. But ultimately failing after six months.

“It’s a stupid superstition that doesn’t mean anything,” Steve said bitterly. Loki gave him a look to continue. “It’s said that whoever you kiss at midnight, will be your sweetheart for the rest of the year. Or if you’re already in a relationship, make it stronger.”

“I see,” Loki said contemplatively.

“It’s just superstition, Loki, don’t buy into it.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to find my brother.” Loki excused himself, already putting together details of a plan in his head.

“Thor! Thor…” he said pulling him aside. “Did you know about this Midgardian tradition of kissing at midnight?”

“Yes! Jane and I planned on it when the hour strikes. Who will be your intended, dear brother?” Thor asked happily. Loki looked at him pointedly. “Oh! You got the priestess to agree to kiss you?! That’s wonderful news!”

“Not quite. I need your help.”

“Get Help?”

“NO! For Father’s sake, if you throw me across the room, I will END YOU!”

 “Alright, alright. I jest Loki. What can I do to help?”

“I’d like to kiss her at midnight, but too many people are vying for her attention. Too many variables. Too many options.”

“Don’t worry little brother, I’ve got this!”

Ten minutes before midnight, you can feel the buzz in the air as everyone scrambles to ring in the new year. You and Nat had graduated to the bar. Both of you nursing new flutes of prosecco.

Behind you, Thor rushes through the crowd looking for Steve. “Rogers, who are you kissing at midnight? Nat or Wanda?”

“Nat or Wanda? What do you mean?”

“Well, you have to kiss someone. Isn’t that your Midgardian tradition? And I figured you wouldn’t want to kiss Nat, I mean with your history and all…”

“Well, ya…” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about Thor’s proposition. “But what about Y/N?”

“Oh, Lady Y/N is kissing my brother.”

“Loki?! But, I…”

“Oh, I apologize. Did you want to kiss my brother instead?” Thor asked quickly. “I can look for him and change his mind. I didn’t know you had…”

“NO! No, I don’t. But, um…”

“Wonderful! So, Nat or Wanda?”

“I guess Wanda,” Steve shrugged. “Nat and I do have a history.”

“Perfect! I’ll let Wanda know.”

“Now hold on just a second…” Steve’s voice trailed away as Thor sprinted into the crowd. His eyes searched for the Scarlet Witch among the revelers and found her amidst a harem of men all rivaling for her attention.

“Wanda!” Thor shouted, frightening some of the men in the group. “Come. Steve says he wanted to kiss you at midnight!”

“I knew it! He couldn’t hide behind that shy act for long!” she said standing up and smoothing out her dress.

“Perfect! You should go to him right now, and make sure no one else claims him before you do.” Thor said. Wanda nodded with determination and marched her way over to Steve.

“Oh, come on Thor!” Wilson said behind him. “I was just about to ask her!” Thor turned to see Sam and Bucky amongst Wanda’s many admirers.

“Uh…you’re in luck, my dear friends. I know someone anxious to kiss you both.” Thor gleamed.

“Us both?” Bucky questioned. Thor pointed to where you and Natasha sat.

“Ooh, nice choice. But I doubt that Steve would actually like that.” Sam said.

“And I believe Y/N is already spoken for,” Bucky added, pointing to Loki walking in your direction.

“It is for Steve we do this!” Thor wrapped his bulging arms around each of their necks. “We all know how miserable both he and Natasha are right now. Make him a little jealous. Perhaps he’ll rise to the occasion and get back his true love.”

“His true love?” Sam questioned.

“For true love!” Thor repeated, squeezing their necks tighter.

“The things we do for our friends,” Bucky grumbled under his breath.

Meanwhile, Loki made his way to the bar where you and Nat were laughing. “Ladies,” he said in that low baritone of his. “I’m sorry to disrupt your merriment, but may I speak to you privately, Agent Romanoff?”

You and Nat exchanged glances as she raised her eyebrow. A smirk fell upon her red lips and that’s when you felt it. A sharp pang of jealousy that twisted a knife in your gut. You hoped that your smile was still plastered on your face. Lord knows Nat could spot a tell from a mile away and you weren’t as good at hiding it as she was.

Loki offered his hand and Nat took it, hopping off the barstool, hand in hand with the man you’ve been pining for. You waited till both their backs were to you when you turned back around to the bar and let your smile die.

“Can I get a shot of tequila!” you yelled to the bartender, holding up your hand. You watched as Loki led Nat to the middle of the room, his arm wrapped around her delicate waste. “Make it a double!” you said with a huff. The sight in front of you was too much to witness. You had accepted that you might not get to kiss Loki at all tonight, but to watch him kiss someone else would be devastating to you.

With nothing, and no one else, keeping you at the party you decided to leave. You ran from the party as quickly as possible with your head turned down, holding back tears and feelings of betrayal.

“Loki, I hope you’re not gonna ask me for a kiss at midnight. That’s a hard pass.” Nat started before he took her very far.

“No, my dear. I overheard your conversation earlier with our dear healer. I was hoping to alleviate your promise of kissing her at midnight by offering you an alternative.”

“What alternative?”

“Two, alternatives actually.” At this, Loki gently grabbed Natasha’s shoulder and spun her around to see Bucky and Sam by the DJ booth. Sam held his drink up to her in greeting, while Bucky just grinned.

“Two! Steve wouldn’t like this.”

“Roger’s is kissing the Witch tonight.” He pointed to where Steve and Wanda were talking. Jealousy burned inside Natasha. A quiet resolve cemented in her and she was set on making him pay for it. “But what about Y/N?”

“As I said, I plan to take charge of her kiss from midnight, and all her kisses thereafter,” Loki winked at her.

“Don’t play with her heart, Loki.”

“I should warn you of the same with your soldier, agent.” He bowed slightly as Nat sauntered her way over to the two soldiers waiting for her.

When Loki turned back towards the bar, his face had fallen realizing that you were no longer there. Panicked, he looked around and found a trail of your coat just as it disappeared inside the hotel. Loki looked at his watch- three minutes left. The crowd below started getting restless and the giant numbers on the large screen on top of the prismatic ball had started ticking down towards midnight.

“Darling, where are you going? The clock is about to strike.” Loki caught up to you at the elevators. You gulped at the sight of him coming towards you. Inside the lobby, the heat was almost suffocating, and Loki unbuttoned his coat to be less stifling. You watched as he removed his gloves, finger by finger, and stuffed them into his coat pocket. The action mesmerized you until you were face to face with him.

“Loki! Shouldn’t you be with Natasha right now?” You said as you looked up at the elevator numbers ticking by so slowly. You pushed the call button praying for the lift to come faster.

“She’s currently entertaining Thing 1 and Thing 2. If my memory of your conversation serves me correctly.” You stared at him in disbelief. You might have had too much to drink. But not enough to miss the implication of what that meant.

He knows. He overheard your conversation and he knows!

He placed his hands on your waist and pulled you towards him, leading you away from the elevators. Away from the notion of running.

His fingers were soft and warm as he cupped your cheek. “Since you’ve saved my life, I have plotted and asked several times for you to kiss me again, my angel. I will not ask again.” His lips were grazing your skin. The heat in his breath intoxicated you. You closed your eyes at the overwhelming sensation of being held by him.  “I told myself that the next time we kiss, it would be because you asked me to. Not out of any obligation. But because you want me. As much as I want you.”

Outside you could hear the deafening roar of people counting down from ten. It melded with the electric buzz going through your body being held so close by Loki. “But I truly can't resist you any longer. I have thought of nothing else since you kissed me that day on the field.”

“Loki…”

“Please ask me.” Three.

“What?” Two.

“Ask me to kiss you.” One.

“Kiss me Loki-” you barely said his name when his lips found yours and held on tight.  A slight whimper fell from your lips, and he reacted by holding you tighter against his body.

Your fingers were entwined in his hair, holding him close to you. You pulled away to catch your breath, and his lips followed yours—unsatisfied from the short amount of contact they had received.  

This kiss was different than the last. There wasn’t a threat of losing his life hanging over you. Instead, the urge was from longing and desire. There was fire and vigor in his lips. And you consumed him easily like a starved woman.

“Happy New Year, my dear,” Loki exhaled between kisses.

“Happy New Year,” you giggled holding him tight.

⬅️ Have Mercy (prequel)

🏷️ Tags in the comments

[piastrisun]

rings and regrets.

pairings: oscar piastri + ex fem reader.

summary: on the night of your engagement party, as you glide through the celebration, the last person you expect to see is oscar—your ex who broke your heart.

genre: fluff.⠀word count: 3.7k.⠀ warning: none.

request: could you do an oscar x ex!reader where reader is engaged to another person and oscar comes to the engagement party to talk with reader while they slow dance. just something super angsty with fluff. thanks so much!

notes: so so happy it’s a request!! i hope it’s what you imagined and that you enjoy it a lot. <3 thank u thank u

you never thought it would end like this—your life divided between a past you can’t quite forget and a future you’ve been building, piece by piece. your relationship with oscar had been everything once. there were days when it felt like the two of you were invincible, everything falling into place: shared memories, laughter, plans for the future. but when it came down to the most important thing, the thing that made you want to take that step forward, he faltered.

oscar hadn’t been ready for marriage. you’d known it for a while, but hearing him say it out loud was still a shock. the words cut deeper than you’d expected. “i love you, but i’m not sure i can do this yet,” he had told you, his voice shaking, as if admitting that to you was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

you had tried, you really had. you gave him space, waited for him to come around, but the longer you waited, the more the silence between you two stretched. eventually, you understood that no matter how much you loved him, he wasn’t going to change. the engagement ring you had imagined slipping onto your finger now felt like a distant dream.

you left. the apartment you once shared became a hollow reminder of what could’ve been, and you never looked back.

months passed, and you moved forward. it wasn’t easy—how could it be, when your heart still carried pieces of him? but you found someone who was ready. someone who didn’t hesitate when you spoke of futures or building a life together. your fiancé, thomas, was steady and warm, the kind of man who held you without hesitation, who showed you what it was like to trust again.

and now, here you are. engaged to him. a soft smile on your lips as you stand beside him at your engagement party, your hands intertwined as the music swirls around the room. it’s a celebration of a love that’s been growing, blooming in ways that feel solid and right. you’ve known thomas for a while now. he's kind, dependable, everything you ever thought you wanted. he’s a man who thinks ahead, plans for the future, and dreams of stability. he was everything oscar wasn’t—and for that, you’re grateful. he’s everything you wanted, and more.

still, there’s a knot in your stomach that you can’t quite shake. it’s as if the past is lurking, waiting for the perfect moment to resurface.

the night is supposed to be a celebration. the air is filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses as guests gather to toast your engagement. it's a moment that should feel like a dream come true—your friends and family, your fiancé at your side, all gathered to mark this new chapter in your life. the venue is elegant, soft golden lights hanging from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the carefully arranged tables. the sound of music drifts through the air, setting a light, joyful tone.

thomas holding your hand tightly as he grins at the guests, proudly showcasing the ring on your finger. you smile back at him, a genuine smile, even though your chest feels a little tight. everything is falling into place. or at least it should be.

the soft glow of string lights casts a warm, intimate atmosphere over the engagement party. couples move fluidly across the dance floor, and you’re among them, your fiancé’s hand resting lightly on your waist as the two of you sway to the rhythm of a slow song. your dress feels heavy—not from its weight but from the pressure of the moment. the words fall flat, lost in the noise of your own thoughts.

that’s when you see him—oscar. he’s standing at the edge of the room, his suit tailored to perfection but slightly disheveled, as if he’d run his hands through his hair too many times. his gaze locks onto you, and you feel the air leave your lungs. it’s been years since you’ve seen him, but the storm in his eyes is achingly familiar.

you try to ignore it, thomas’ hand gently tightens around your waist as the music slows, pulling you closer into the embrace of the dance. “you okay?” he whispers, his lips brushing the side of your ear, but you can’t answer. your eyes are locked on oscar, who hasn’t moved, hasn’t even tried to blend in with the crowd. he’s watching you, and you feel the familiar ache inside you, the one that never quite went away.

“yeah, i’m fine,” you say, too quickly, but thomas doesn’t seem to notice. he murmurs something else about how beautiful you look tonight, and you smile, the motion automatic, but distant.

oscar’s gaze burns through you. it’s not a look of anger, not even regret—no, it’s more complicated than that. you’ve seen that look before, in the quiet moments between you both, when he used to be afraid to let his guard down. the same expression that haunted your dreams, even after everything.

oscar approaches, weaving through the crowd until he’s close enough that you can feel his presence, though he doesn’t say a word at first. when he finally does, his voice is quiet but weighted.

“may i have this dance?” oscar asks, his tone gentle, almost formal, but there’s an undercurrent of something raw beneath it.

your fiancé looks at him with polite curiosity, unaware of the storm brewing just beneath the surface. he glances at you, a soft smile on his face. “do you know him?”

you hesitate, your throat tightening. “an old friend,” you manage, the words tasting strange on your tongue.

thomas nods, his smile never faltering. “go ahead. i’ll grab us some champagne,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple before stepping aside, oblivious to the weight of what he’s just allowed.

you hesitate, your heart hammering as you meet oscar’s eyes. “this isn’t the time,” you murmur, but he’s already extending his hand, waiting. despite every alarm in your head screaming at you to walk away, you take it. the moment his hand touches yours, a jolt runs through you, the kind that feels like both a spark and a wound reopening.

the music swells around you as he leads you to the center of the dance floor. his hand finds your waist, his touch familiar but tentative, while the other clasps yours gently.

“can we talk?” oscar’s voice is soft, but there’s an edge of desperation you hadn’t expected. he looks at you, and for the first time in a long while, you see the vulnerability in him.

your steps falter, but you force yourself to keep moving, your hand trembling slightly in his. “not now,” you reply, your tone sharper than you mean.

oscar doesn’t back down. if anything, his grip on you steadies, his jaw tightening. “please, just five minutes,” he murmurs, quieter this time, but no less intense.

the air between you feels charged, and you glance toward thomas at the edge of the room, standing with a champagne flute in each hand, waiting for you with the ease of someone who trusts you completely.

your stomach twists. “we shouldn’t do this here, i can’t,” you say under your breath, though your voice trembles as much as your hands.

oscar nods, his gaze never leaving yours. “then let’s go somewhere else. just for a moment. please.”

the finality in his tone makes it impossible to refuse. you glance at thomas again, guilt pinching at your chest, but when you meet oscar’s eyes, there’s something in them that pulls you in, something you’ve never been able to resist.

you exhale shakily. “we’ll talk outside,” you whisper, breaking the spell for a moment.

the sharp night air bites at your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in your chest. as you step further into the quiet, away from the glow of the party, your steps grow quicker, more urgent. your heels sinking slightly into the manicured grass with every hurried step. oscar follows, his footsteps steady but urgent behind you. the laughter and music from the engagement party grow faint, replaced by the erratic pounding of your heart.

you spin around once you’re far enough away, the soft glow of garden lanterns casting a pale light over his face. “what are you doing here, oscar?” your words come out harder than you feel, a defensive shield against the way your chest aches at seeing him again.

he stops a few feet away, his hands still buried in his pockets like he’s trying to keep himself together. “i needed to see you,” he says, his voice tight. he shoves his hands into his pockets, his movements restless. “i heard about the engagement, and i—” he stops, dragging in a shaky breath.

his words catch in your chest. “you’re too late,” you whisper, though you wish, just for a second, that he hadn’t come. “you made your choice, oscar.”

“i made a mistake.” his voice cracks, and he takes a hesitant step closer, as if he’s unsure whether or not he should cross the line. “i wasn’t ready before, but i am now. i want to make it right.”

"and? what exactly do you think this is going to accomplish?" you gesture around, your voice rising with a mix of anger and disbelief. "crashing my engagement party? making a scene in front of everyone i care about? do you think this is some kind of grand gesture that's going to fix everything?"

"i just—" his voice falters, but he holds your gaze, a flicker of desperation in his eyes. "i couldn’t just let this happen without saying something."

your heart hammers in your chest, but you cross your arms, the gesture more to steady yourself than to push him away. “you couldn’t let this happen? what, me moving on? finding someone who—” you swallow hard, the words catching. “someone who actually wanted me?”

his face contorts, pain flickering across it. “don’t say that. you know that’s not true.”

“isn't it?” your voice wavers, and you hate yourself for it. “you left, oscar. you said you weren’t ready, and i waited for you to change your mind, but you never did.”

“i know.” he steps closer, his hands twitching like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t dare. “i was scared. i thought i had time, but seeing you now… i can’t lose you. not like this.”

“what were you hoping for—that i’d just drop everything and run back to you?”

“is that so impossible?” his voice sharpens, his composure cracking. “after everything we’ve been through, is it really so crazy to think you might still care?”

“care?” you laugh bitterly, the sound harsh in the quiet garden. “of course i care, oscar. i cared when i waited for you for years, hoping you’d finally be ready. i cared when you told me you weren’t, and i had to pick up the pieces of myself that you left behind. what about you, huh?” your throat tightens, and you shake your head, stepping back.

he flinches, his jaw tightening. “you think i didn’t care? that it didn’t kill me to walk away from you? i thought i was doing the right thing, giving you a chance to find someone who could give you everything i couldn’t.”

“don’t you dare act noble,” you snap, your voice breaking under the weight of your anger. “you didn’t leave for me, oscar. you left because you were a coward.”

the word hangs in the air between you, cutting deeper than either of you expected. he takes a step closer, his eyes dark and unreadable. “maybe i was,” he says, his voice softer now but no less intense. “but i’m here now. doesn’t that count for something?”

“no, you don’t get to do this now. not when i’m finally…” the words falter because you don’t know if they’re true. are you happy? or are you simply surviving without him? you shake your head, tears stinging your eyes. “you don’t get to show up now and act like you’re the hero of this story. i’ve spent so long trying to move on, trying to be happy without you, and now you want to rip it all apart?”

“i’m not trying to ruin your life,” he says, his voice rising again. “i’m trying to fix what happened. and you—” he stops, dragging a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. “you’re still it for me. you always have been.”

your chest tightens at his words, the sincerity in them slicing through your anger like a knife. “you don’t get to say that,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“why not?” he challenges, his gaze locking onto yours. “because it’s the truth? because you know it’s still there between us, no matter how much you try to deny it?”

“i’m not denying anything.” you snap, your emotions boiling over. “but it’s not that simple, oscar. you left me. do you have any idea what that did to me? how hard it was to piece myself back together, only to have you show up and try to pull it all apart again?"”

he steps closer, his voice dropping to a raw whisper. “i know i hurt you. i know i don’t deserve anything from you, but i can’t stand the thought of losing you forever.”he sees the crack in your armor, and his voice softens, filled with desperation. “do you love him?”

the question hits you like a punch to the stomach. you look down, your fingers curling into the fabric of your dress. “don’t ask me that,” you whisper.

“why not? because you don’t want to lie, or because you can’t tell me the truth?” he steps even closer now, and you can smell the faint cologne he always used to wear. it’s maddening, pulling you into a past you’ve tried so hard to bury.

you glance back at the dance floor where your fiancé waits, his eyes scanning the crowd. he’s everything you wanted—stable, kind, ready to commit. but oscar is everything you lost.

“i can’t do this,” you finally say, your voice cracking. “you shouldn’t have come.”

“please, just tell me—do you love him?” his question knocks the air out of your lungs.

you look away, your throat tight, your mind a mess of conflicting emotions. “why does it matter?”

“because it’s the only thing that matters to me,” he says, his voice breaking. “if you love him, i’ll walk away. i swear i will. but if there’s even a part of you that still loves me…”

“stop it,” you whisper, shaking your head. “you don’t understand what you’re asking me to do.”

“i’m asking you to be honest with yourself," he says, stepping closer until there’s barely any space between you. “do you love him the way you loved me?”

the words hang between you, heavy and suffocating. you feel the tears spill over, hot against your cold cheeks. “why are you doing this to me?"”

“because i can’t let you go without fighting for you,” he says, his voice trembling. “not again."”

you let out a shaky breath, your chest heaving as you try to hold yourself together. “you should’ve fought for me when it mattered.”

his expression crumples, the weight of your words hitting him like a blow. “you’re right,” he whispers. “i should have. and i’ll spend the rest of my life regretting that i didn’t.”

his shoulders sag, but his gaze remains on you, raw and pleading. “if you can tell me you don’t love me anymore, i’ll walk away. right now. i swear.”

your breath hitches. the weight of the moment presses down on you, and the music in the background becomes a distant hum. you open your mouth to speak, but the words don’t come. instead, a single tear slips down your cheek, and that’s answer enough.

the sound of voices and laughter from the party drifts faintly through the garden, a cruel reminder of the life you’re supposed to be celebrating tonight. you glance back toward the lights, toward your fiancé waiting inside, then back at oscar, who looks at you like you’re the only thing keeping him upright.

your breath hitches. the weight of the moment presses down on you, and the music in the background becomes a distant hum. you open your mouth to speak, but the words don’t come. instead, a single tear slips down your cheek, and that’s answer enough.

oscar watches you, his face softening as he steps closer again, his hand lifting but stopping just shy of touching you. “i never stopped loving you,” he says quietly, his voice almost breaking. “even when i tried to move on, it was always you.”

his words shatter something inside you. “oscar…”

you look back toward the golden glow of the party, the life you’re supposed to be celebrating tonight. thomas is waiting inside, kind and dependable, offering a love that is steady and certain. but when you turn back to oscar, all you see is the man who once made you feel like the world could catch fire and you wouldn’t care as long as he was holding you.

“i can’t do this,” you finally say, your voice breaking. “i can’t keep breaking my heart over you.”

oscar’s hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach for you but knows he shouldn’t. he exhales shakily, his hand brushing against yours for the briefest moment before he pulls back. “i’ll wait for you,” he says, his voice breaking. “even if it takes forever.”

your fingers close around his instinctively, a fleeting, fragile connection that neither of you is ready to let go of just yet. “you can’t just wait for me,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “that’s not fair to you.”

he smiles faintly, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “life’s not fair. but you’re worth it.“

for a moment, the world seems to stop. the sound of laughter and music fades completely, and all that exists is the way he’s looking at you—raw, hopeful, and utterly unguarded.

you pull your hand back slowly, your heart breaking all over again. “i don’t know what to do,” you admit, your voice cracking.

oscar steps back, his gaze never leaving yours, as though he’s memorising every detail of this moment. “take the time you need,” he says softly. “but don’t think for a second that i’m going anywhere. i’m here, no matter how long it takes.”

and with that, he steps away, leaving you standing there under the stars, torn between a future that feels safe and a love that burns like a fire you’re not sure you can survive.

you glance back toward the glow of the party, then down at your hand, where his warmth still lingers. for the first time in a long time, you realize that love, even the messy kind, has never truly left you. and that scares you more than anything else.

the sound of oscar’s retreating footsteps stings, every step pulling him further away from you, further into the shadows of the garden. you should let him leave—should stay rooted where you are, let your choice carry you forward. but something inside you stirs, refuses to let this be the end.

“wait,” you call softly, barely audible over the hum of the music. but he hears you. he stops mid-step, his back stiffening as though he doesn’t dare turn around, afraid of the hope that might break him.

when he finally turns to face you, his expression is a mix of pain and something else—something fragile but enduring. love.

“i hate you for this,” you whisper, but your voice trembles with something softer than anger. “i hate that you still make me feel this way.”

oscar lets out a shaky breath, a flicker of something like relief crossing his face. “i don’t care if you hate me, as long as you don’t stop feeling something for me.”

you shake your head, your tears falling freely now. “you ruined me, oscar. and then you left.”

“i know,” he says, stepping closer, his hand lifting tentatively toward your face but stopping just shy of touching. “and i’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it, if you let me.”

the weight of his words presses against your chest, and for a moment, all you can do is stand there, caught in the pull of him, of everything you once had and could never fully let go of.

“you shouldn’t say things like that,” you murmur, your voice almost breaking.

“why not?” he asks softly. “because it’s true? because i love you?”

his words make your breath hitch, and for a brief moment, the world around you blurs. you close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, but then you feel his hand—gentle, warm—slip over yours. it’s hesitant, like he’s asking permission with the simplest touch.

you don’t pull away.

“i can’t walk away from you again,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “not without knowing if there’s still a part of your heart that has my name on it.”

your chest tightens, and when you look up at him, there’s a softness in his eyes that undoes you completely. you’ve seen that look before, years ago, in moments you thought you’d forgotten. it’s the look that made you fall in love with him the first time.

for a moment, you don’t think. you lean in, just enough to rest your forehead against his, your breaths mingling in the cold night air. “you’re impossible,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of everything unsaid.

“and you’re everything,” he whispers back, his thumb brushing against your knuckles.

you stay there, suspended in a moment that feels too delicate to break. and when you finally pull back, your heart feels just a little lighter, even as the ache remains.

“go,” you say softly, your voice barely audible. “i need time.”

oscar nods, though you can see the pain in his eyes. “i’ll give you all the time you need,” he says, his voice steady despite the crack you hear beneath it. “but i’ll be waiting, always.”

he presses a fleeting kiss to your knuckles before stepping back, his warmth lingering even after he’s gone. you watch him disappear into the night, your heart torn but beating with something that feels dangerously close to hope.

as you turn back toward the lights of the party, you catch your reflection in the glass doors, your tear-streaked face and trembling smile staring back at you. you’re not sure where this path will take you, but for the first time in a long while, it feels like you’re finally letting yourself choose.

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 25’.

[psychoticallykind]

Share with me?

This was my first attempt at writing for day 20 (Baking) of Jegumas, but the story got away from me so I ended up doing something different. However, I actually really like it so I finished it today and thought I would share.

@noblehouseofgay because I think you'll like it.

2,209 words

Trigger Warning: Dysphoria, Dysphoric thoughts

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

Regulus forced himself to take a deep breath. “It’s fine,” he insisted to the empty bathroom. “I’m fine. It was a dumb comment. It doesn’t mean anything.”

His reflection blinked back tears, long black lashes and flushed skin. But not crying. Not quite, not over this. It wasn’t worth it. He was better than that.

“I don’t care.” Regulus took another deep breath. “I don’t. It doesn’t matter what they think. I don’t care, I’m fine, it’s fine.”

There was a light knock on the door, and panic spiked through his chest. “It’s occupied.”

“I know, love. Are you okay in there?”

Oh. Right.

Of course, James had found him.

Regulus swallowed, trying to sound as steady as possible. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” James replied. “I was just checking, you’ve been missing for a while.”

The gentle tone threatened to undo all of his hard work - suppress, deny, refuse to feel it. Refuse to react.

James was making it very hard to not feel anything.

“I just said I’m fine,” Regulus snapped, and immediately regretted it. He softened his tone. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

One deep breath. Two.

“That’s okay, love. Take your time, I’m okay to wait.”

Take your time.

Regulus pressed his hands over his eyes. He was not going to cry. Not here, not at some stupid office party. He would not. It was simply not an option, no matter how irritatingly compassionate James sounded right now.

He could get through this. He would smile and talk and be what he needed to be. That was fine. He could do that.

One deep breath. Two. Three.

Four and five, for good measure.

Regulus checked his reflection. He looked - well, he still looked a little upset. But no one would be able to tell unless they knew him and were looking for it, which these people didn’t and wouldn’t.

James was standing against the opposite wall when Regulus opened the door. Dark curls and an emerald green that looked nice on his skin tone. Nothing compared to a deep red, but he’d wanted to match with Regulus tonight.

“Hey,” James greeted him, and Regulus was not going to cry.

“I’m not crying,” he informed his boyfriend.

James nodded, giving Regulus a gentle smile. “I see that.”

And Regulus thought he probably did. James always saw him better than he was supposed to - saw past glares and smiles and posture. Pandora had suggested he was an empath, and Regulus had been slightly inclined to agree.

“I just need to get through the next two hours,” Regulus said, locking everything inside of him into place. “And then we can go home.”

“We don’t need to stay if you don’t want to,” James said softly. Not implying, but not moving from his spot, either.

He was letting Regulus choose.

Regulus hesitated. “Are you sure? Won’t - don’t you have to stay? You own - it’s your company.”

“No one has to stay,” James denied, shaking his head. “It’s a party, Regulus, not a board meeting. Some people only came by for a few minutes. Some won’t come at all. We can leave whenever we want.”

Regulus took another deep breath to avoid feeling things.

James stepped forward, gently taking his hand. “What do you want to do?”

Well, he’d lasted a solid three minutes. Maybe.

“I want to go home,” Regulus admitted, squeezing James’s hand. “Please.”

“Do you want to go through the party to get our jackets or do you want to go the back way and sneak out?”

Regulus could look presentable in front of everyone. He could walk through the crowd and pretend to be okay.

But - well, he didn’t actually have to. Not with James. “I don’t want to go through the party.”

“Sounds great.” James pulled him into a tight hug, kissing the top of his head before letting go.

Regulus couldn’t really help smiling as they separated, following James down the abandoned hallways until they reached the front.

James waved goodbye to the person manning the desk, and then they were outside. Regulus took another deep breath, letting the frigid air clear his head a little more.

James opened his door for him, and Regulus couldn’t help smiling as he got in the car.

Then they started driving, and James was humming along to the music, and it was all so safe.

It was safe, he was safe, and then he was crying, one hand pressed against his mouth and his expression turned to the window so that James wouldn’t see.

“Regulus?”

Regulus bit down hard on his lip.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Will you look at me?”

He shook his head, which was probably dumb. It wasn’t like he’d succeeded - James knew he was upset now.

“Alright, love. Can I pull over? What can I do?”

“Ignore it,” Regulus managed. He closed his eyes. “Ignore me. Don’t act like - just ignore me.”

He knew James would be making that face - the one that meant he hated listening but would do it anyway. He knew it, but didn’t let himself look.

James hated it when Regulus didn’t let him help. Absolutely despised it. But sometimes Regulus couldn’t let him help. He couldn’t talk about it, couldn’t stand letting anyone see him when he was falling apart.

“For how long?”

Forever, Regulus wanted to say. Let me deal with it on my own. Let me drown in it.

But that would be cruel, and he didn’t want to do that to James. So he settled. “Until we get home.”

Then, as an afterthought, “No speeding.”

The quiet grumble that earned him almost made him smile.

It took twenty minutes for them to get home. Twenty minutes for Regulus to be self-destructive - to say to himself all of the things he’d heard before.

It’s your own fault you feel this way.

You know you deserve it.

That’s why you won’t let him help.

If you don’t want to be a girl, you shouldn’t act like one.

You can’t keep crying over something so stupid.

Now he wants to help.

You made him leave the party.

You ruined his night.

You ruin everything, don’t you?

You’re never quite right. Always a little messed up.

Always a bother, a nuisance.

Always upset over something.

“We’re home.”

The words jolted Regulus out of his head for a second, and then James was out of the car. Seconds later, Regulus’s door was open.

James unbuckled his seat belt and leaned forward to pick him up, holding him close to his chest. “I love you, and we’re home, so I’m allowed to tell you that now.”

And it felt so wrong. So wrong and jarring, because he didn’t deserve that. He was wrong, ruined, he was messed up, he messed everything up.

“I love you, you’re perfect.” James managed to close the car door and started walking, pressing a kiss to Regulus’s temple. “You make my life better just by being in it. My incredible boyfriend.”

Regulus flinched, hiding his expression against James’s chest. “I’m not.”

“Not what?” James asked, carrying him inside. “Not incredible? You’re definitely incredible. So smart and talented.”

Regulus shook his head, the words falling between them. “Not a real boy.”

James’s arms tightened around him for a moment, and then he set Regulus on the counter. “You’re wrong.”

Regulus looked down, his breath catching for a second. “I know.”

Wrong, wrong, all wrong.

“Not like that.” James tapped on his chin, gently urging him to look back up. “You’re perfect. The perfect boy, my perfect boyfriend. So handsome and clever and strong.”

Regulus shook his head. “I baked brownies.”

“I know.” James gently wiped at his cheeks, removing tears. “They were amazing, everyone loved them.”

“No, James,” Regulus insisted, stressing the words. “I baked brownies.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Like a girl.”

“Oh, love.” James tugged him forward, wrapping him up. “Baking doesn’t make you less of a boy. Nothing can, it’s impossible. You could bake brownies in a pink dress and heels wearing a full face of makeup, and you would still be a boy. Nothing can change that.”

Regulus sobbed quietly, shaking his head.

“One day,” James told him. “I’m going to marry you, and you’ll be my husband. And I’ll be the second-happiest guy in the world, because you’ll have to be the happiest. I won’t be able to live with myself otherwise.”

Regulus sucked in a sharp breath. “What?”

“You heard me.” James massaged the back of his head. “No one will be surprised, really. I talk about you all the time - my incredible boyfriend. I have like seven pictures of you on my desk - you know that, though, you’ve seen them.”

Regulus’s breath stuttered, and he held James tighter. “You can’t marry me.”

“Well, not if you don’t say yes,” James replied. “Which would be okay. There’s no obligation, you know, and we can talk about it beforehand. But I would love to, one day. If you’re okay with that.”

Regulus’s voice was small. “What if I’m not?”

“Then we won’t get married.” James ran a hand down his back with a quiet hum. “And we can be happy as we are. I love you regardless, Regulus.”

Dark thoughts tumbled around in his head, but he couldn't voice them. It would invalidate James, he couldn’t do that.

“What are you thinking?” James murmured.

“Bad things,” Regulus admitted.

“Share with me?”

“They’re bad,” he repeated. “You won’t like it.”

“Probably not,” James said agreeably. “But I love you, and I want to know.”

It took a few minutes. A few minutes of back-and-forth, debating with himself. Honesty wasn’t easy or kind, and Regulus wasn’t generally a fan of it.

But James was. He really was - Regulus had never met a more honest person in his life.

“I’m thinking that you love me regardless because you love everyone.”

The words were small. They stung, because it was true. James wasn’t gay - he was pansexual. He loved Regulus.

Regardless of whether he was a real boy or not.

He felt James’s breath catch. “Oh.”

Regulus winced. Maybe honesty had been the wrong choice.

“Okay. I - I need to look at you, love, sorry.” James urged him back, separating them so that he could meet Regulus’s eyes. “You’re right about me. I can love anyone, and I’m not denying that.”

Oh, that hurt, too. Regulus held his breath, eyes darting away from James and to the microwave instead.

“Uh-uh, look at me.”

Regulus bit his lip as he followed the instruction. His lungs were starting to burn.

“Do you remember when we met?” James asked. His hands moved to Regulus’s shoulders, massaging.

Regulus nodded, not trusting his voice just now.

“I didn’t know you were trans,” James pointed out, earnest. “I didn’t know when we met. I didn’t know when we started dating. I fell in love with you before I knew, Reg, you know that.” He traced along Regulus’s collarbone. “Breathe, Regulus.”

His whole body relaxed a bit as he listened, taking in a few deep breaths.

“I have always known you as a boy,” James reminded him quietly. “And I’ve never seen you as anything else.”

Regulus swallowed hard. “Promise?”

“I promise.” James traced his cheekbones, gently swiping over the skin. “Believe me?”

He took a deep breath. “I believe you.”

“Perfect.” James kissed his forehead. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“It’s dumb,” Regulus mumbled, cheeks heating. “It was dumb.”

“Dumb or not, I need to know if I need to fire someone,” James replied.

“Don’t.” Regulus shook his head. “He didn’t know.”

James frowned a little. “Who?”

Regulus shrugged. “I don’t know. He had a bright green tie, looked terrible.”

“Oh, Timothy.” James’s frown grew. “What did he say?”

“He was eating a brownie,” Regulus explained. His voice faltered, but James was rubbing his shoulders again, and it helped. “And he said that when food tastes that good, you can tell a woman did the baking.”

It was a dumb comment. It wasn't targeted, or mean, or purposefully triggering.

But it so closely echoed the things Regulus had heard - had been forced to learn, to internalize. It was so close, and it had torn Regulus apart.

“That’s ridiculous,” James denied, adamant. “I’ll speak to him on Monday.”

“No, James -”

“I will, and I won’t bring up your name, but he needs to know he hurt someone with his thoughtless comments and he will know it,” James interrupted. “Okay?”

He could say no. Regulus knew that - he could say no, could ask James to drop it, and James would listen. He might not like it, but he’d listen.

But he kind of liked that James cared so much. He liked knowing James would defend him.

So Regulus nodded, pulling James forward into a brief kiss. It tasted like champagne and chocolate from earlier, and he was sure James could taste salt from all the crying. And then, when they separated, he whispered the word into James’s parted lips. “Okay.”

Three days later, Regulus received a handwritten apology letter and an apology basket from Timothy. It was addressed to ‘the guy who made the fantastic brownies’.

[oonajaeadira]

That Awoooo Inside You, Pt. 3

Fandom: The Wild Robot / Fink the Fox

Pairing: Fink <3s OFC fox Farrah

Rating: G all the way, don’t worry. This is keeping in the world and disgustingly wholesome. Prolly too clean for tumbles 😆

Warnings: None. It’s for cuteness and for heart.

Summary: After the events of The Wild Robot, a new resident joins the island. She’s a little withdrawn and Fink finds out why. It's not what he expected.

A/N: The end of this chapter was partly inspired by @grogusmum. She knows what she did. And if she doesn't, it's illustrated afterward.

Thank you to everyone who enjoyed my very very fluffy--in all senses of the word--tale. I had to. I just had to.

PART 1, PART 2

“Hey-ey-ey,Greedy!” Fink laughed as he called out to Farrah, her tail and back feet hanging out of the hollow of a dead tree trunk. “Just because I gave you the first turn doesn’t mean you get to eat it all! I want some! My turn! My turn!”

Farrah backed out of the hollow and down the grey stump, honey sticking to her whiskers and snowy ear tips, her front paws covered in the golden goo. “Sorry! I got carried away! I’ve never had anything like it. There’s plenty left…I think…”

Distracted by the remnants on her paws, the white fox began to clean them up, eyes wide, still in awe of the sweetness Fink had introduced her to. It was almost a contest as to what was going to win his attention–the honey hive, or Farrah’s dainty licking–but like any fox, food won out and he was shoulders deep in the tree trunk before his heart had any say in the matter.

Once he was gorged on the stuff, Fink skittered his way out from the hollow and joined Farrah in the grass. It was her turn to wait while he cleaned his own paws, but being familiar with honey, he was far less of a mess than she had been. One, two, licks of his paws and then–

He hadn’t meant to do it, but he was a fox. He did foxy things. And that meant not thinking when it came to food. It wasn’t until Farrah was ducking away from him, putting some distance between them, that he realized what he’d done.

He’d instinctually gone to lick the honey off her ears. 

Now she crouched, cowered, alert, her bright eyes–one light, one dark–wide and peering back at him over her brush of a tail, and he could sense the spring that was building in her legs, her heart running as hard as her feet wanted to–

He was suddenly almost as scared as she was. “Sorry! I just– I only– your ears…” The only thing he could think to do was back up. Sit down. Her eyes were still moons in the white sky of her face.

After a couple of months on the island, she was still skittish, still easy to startle. Fink had done everything to make her feel at home, done everything he could do to show her she was under no threat here. She was quick to play with the raccoons and had even fallen asleep on Thorn’s big fat bear belly once or twice on a chilly evening.

But somehow, Fink still spooked her. Maybe he just saw it more since they spent so much time together. Or maybe he was too quick, too rough. Or maybe….

…maybe she didn’t want him to get close in that way.

He could feel his shoulders hunching, his ears drooping, and with them, he sensed a slackening of Farrah’s tension.

“Sorry, Fink, you just… I…” Stepping slowly, she stopped halfway to him and sat, nervous, avoiding his eye. “Guess I’m just a mess. I didn’t realize I still had hummy on my ears.”

Normally he would have laughed. They would have laughed together. “Honey.”

“Heh. Honey.”  A little breeze shifted the grass and Farrah made an attempt at a playful sneeze, but it was half-hearted. “You can…clean my ears if you want to…”

“It’s okay,” he smiled, just as half-heartedly. “You wanna go down to the shore and take a swim? I don’t want to be sticky all day. Ants.”

“Sure.”

She led the way now, more confident in her path about the island and he followed, although feeling as if he was dragging his heart behind him.

He remembered how much it hurt when Brightbill flew away for the winter, but it was a good hurt, because they would see each other again.

And he remembered how much it hurt when Roz left the island. That one hurt in a different way because he knew he may never see her again, but he had good memories, and he knew that he had friends and a good life because of what she did for them all.

But this was a hurt he didn’t recognize. It was like the hurt he used to feel when nobody wanted him around, the hurt he learned to ignore, the hurt he used in order to become clever and figure out the very best ways to get exactly what he wanted. Similar, but not the same. 

Because that pain was borne out of the rejection of everyone. Like sleeping on a bed of pinecones.

This ache could not be ignored or pushed away.

Being rejected by one special someone in particular, he was learning, was much worse, like sleeping on one particularly spiky pinecone.

With one, big jagged spike.

Pressing right against his heart.

“Look! Your favorite!” Farrah came trotting out of the water to him where he sat on shore, feebly scrubbing his paws in a tidepool, and laid a huge clam at his feet, its bulk almost too big for her smaller jaw. He nodded, but kept scrubbing. A crab scuttled past as a larger wave lazily slapped the rocks behind her, the water dull under a hazy, late spring sky. “Fink?”

The thought just fell out of his mouth. “You really never thought about finding a…a mate?”

Farrah blinked, eyes wide again. This time he could tell it wasn’t with the instinct to flee, but he could hear her heart racing all the same. “I… no. Where I’m from, nobody would take me.”

He wanted to run away, scared of what he was feeling, scared of what he might say, what she might say, what might happen to their friendship, but couldn’t stop himself. “But, you’re not there anymore. You’re here. And things are different here. Everyone’s a little different here and…and…just because you… your…” He couldn’t keep his tail from twitching, his claws making little arpeggios in the sand, his tongue babbling away without him, “I like your fur. It’s not practical but it’s beautiful, it catches the sun. It’s a part of you and I like you so you don’t have to worry about being different or the runt of the litter here. I think it’s a miracle you’ve made it, it means you’ve had to be strong and smart and you’re–”

“My fur?” A tilt of Farrah’s head showed initial confusion. “What’s wrong with my fur?” And then just the hint of her ears leaning back, a paw pushing at the sand as if bracing for a fight, her tail curling around herself again. “Who said I was a runt? I’ll have you know I was the second biggest kit of my litter.”

Now it was Fink’s turn to blink in surprise. “But.. no one said, it’s just… you are on the small side so I just thought you might–”

“Wait. Fink,” she calmed then, a realization breaking over her, her spine straightening, ears perking up. It was one of the rare moments they’d had together where he was able to look her in the eye and she didn’t back down, where suddenly she was allowing him in and he felt suddenly hopeful. Did she just hear what he said? Was she just realizing how he felt? Did she like him too? He swallowed hard, anticipating what she would say next.

It was much different than what he expected.

“Have you…never met a winter fox?”

The words pushed through him, trying to find a place to settle into meaning. “Winter? Fox?”

“Yeah. A snowy fox. Like me.” When he could only stare blankly, she smiled sadly. “Oh, Fink. There are different kinds of foxes where I’m from! I’m a winter fox. We’re all white like this and smaller than the forest foxes. We don’t usually mix with the forest foxes because…” here she looked down at her little white paws making a delicate triangle in the sand, “forrest foxes hunt winter foxes. They’re brutal predators. They..they eat us.”

Whaaaaaat??? “WOWWWUH,” Fink breathed, aghast at this breaking news, happy for her to have escaped that peril. “They sound like huge jerks. You’re better off here without ‘em.”

She lifted her head then and a light huff fell out of her, it was nervous and hesitant, and thinking she was laughing, he was momentarily proud of lightening her mood. Until she said, “Fink…you’re a forest fox.”

There would be few more profound moments in Fink’s life than standing on a shifting shore, learning that he had yet another fate in the world, an alternate place where he could have lived a completely different life, one that could be seen by someone other than himself. 

He sat in shock and looked at her. She was so small, so vulnerable. He himself was half again her size. She was fast, but he was faster and could easily outrun her and catch her if he wanted to. She would often bring him shellfish to open for her and then watch in something like awe as he crushed it easily in his jaws.

In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t awe. Perhaps it was horror.

He was starting to understand that his heart could break twice in one lifetime. Maybe twice in one day.

He needed time to stand still for a minute so he could gather his thoughts, fix this somehow, assure her that he wasn’t like the foxes she’d known, make her see, he wasn’t like the forest foxes that she’d known, he would never, if only the waves would stop crashing and the geese would stop honking–

Honking! The geese! The geese were returning! Brightbill!

Fink was up and turning on the spot, watching the incoming flock, but also agitated by the interruption, unable to stop himself. “Farrah, I… can you… can you hold that thought? I’m sorry, I just–” And without waiting for her, he ran. 

He couldn’t remember being faster, needing to run faster, faster, his blood rushing in his ears. The flock would land just down the shore near by and he found a spot close enough to the treeline so as not to spook the ones that didn’t know him, but still out on shore enough to be seen. And then he danced. 

He couldn’t help himself. Bounding in a circle, paws tap tapping the wet sand, he yelped like a pup in with its tail caught, and sure enough, an orange-tufted bird broke from the group and came straight for him, dive-bombing him out of the sky, goose and fox colliding in a poof of feathers and fur and rolling and laughter as Brightbill made a triumphant return to the island.

“Hey, buddy! You came back!”

The goose laughed. “It’s spring. Where else would I go?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You could fly anywhere. I’m sure there are tons of islands better than this one.”

“Yeah, but none of them have a Fink.”

Fink grinned, the familiar fondness for his friend doing some soothing work on his aching heart. “How was the trip?”

“Long. Who’s that?” Brightbill tipped his beak to the treeline, and Fink followed his gaze to the flash of white ducking behind a tree.

“Oh. She’s new. Farrah! Hey!” he called to her and her little face appeared around the trunk. “Brightbill’s home! Come meet the kid!” Trotting toward them, she looked warily side to side at the arriving population on the shore, and he lowered his voice to give the goose advice he couldn’t yet accept himself, “She washed up half-drowned a couple of months ago. Still kinda shy. Don’t take it personally.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Brightbill turned to the crowd and honked, calling to a large, long-necked and ruffle-feathered gander who was chatting up a gaggle of ladies. The gander immediately turned and closed the distance, winging over to their little family group and settling next to them, much more gently than his mass would have led anyone to suppose. “This is my…ah… my nesting partner, Crusher.”

“Fink, yes?” Crusher honked, husky and low. “Charmed.”

“He’s joining us from another flock this year.”

Crusher chuckled and ribbed Brighbill. “Might stay forever at this rate.”

The smaller goose couldn’t help but blush. “You mind if he stays in the hut with me?”

Fink smiled, a rush of happiness for his little fledgling–all grown up–tempered only by the awkwardness every parent feels when they bring their sweetheart to visit. “Absolutely! You can have the best bed in the place.”

“What?” Brightbill flinched. “Your bed? Are you sure you’re Fink?”

Fink shrugged and leveled his shoulders, a smug smile tugging at his mouth. “What can I say? I’m a great guy. Fantastically generous. Full of surprises.”

“That last part’s true for sure.” Brightbill turned to Farrah. “I assume you’re responsible for this show-off’s drastic change in behavior?”

“Hey!” Fink protested, but Farrah laughed her wondrous, loud laugh and introductions and welcomes were made. He watched her as she warmed to his adopted family and before long they were trotting back to the hut, many of their friends there to meet them, having heard the flock arriving from the south.

The rest of the day had a general family reunion atmosphere. Thorn bumbled off into the trees and came back with an entire wild raspberry bush he’d yanked out of the ground, heavy with a spring crop. The raccoons brought up snails from the woods and clams from the beach. Pinktail brought in this season’s club of little rascals who all got a fast and low ride on Crusher’s back over the surrounding treetops. Before long, the fireflies were coming out, lighting up the grasses in the clearing around the hut and Thorn had started a warm fire inside.

It was there that Fink was listening intently to Crusher’s tale of home, the shoreline where he grew up. Since meeting Farrah, Fink had become increasingly interested in learning how different and yet the same so many other places were. It was like he learned something new about the world every day.

Like the fact that there were foxes in the world that were even bigger jerks than he was.

Or than he used to be.

He scanned the hut–quieter now as many of the young animals were nodding off and cuddling with their mamas who in turn were engaged in low, pleasant conversation by the light of the fire. At first he thought Farrah might have left, the crowd too much for her, but then he caught the moonlight glow of her fur through the doorway out in the clearing, Brightbill at her side. They were deep in conversation–Brightbill doing most of the talking and Farrah watching him intently–and Fink felt a little contented spark of loving happiness as he watched them bond.

After a while, Brightbill waddled into the hut toward Fink’s precious, beloved, grassy nest, drowsy and sighing. “It’s been a day. Did you really mean it? Can we bed down here?”

Fink sighed, pulling back the sass he was so accustomed to leaning on, just this once. “Yeah, kid. I mean it. You two have had a long journey. Take a load off. I’m just glad you’re home. You want me to shoo everyone out of here so you can sleep?”

“Nah,” the small goose shook his head, his eye wandering across the line of pictures Roz had created of him not so very long ago. “We’re used to sleeping in a crowd. And it’s nice to hear the voice of friends.”

Once Brightbill and Crusher were comfortable–heads tucked under wings, Crusher’s free wing almost completely covering the smaller goose–Fink wandered out into the clearing where Farrah sat under the stars. She was staring up at the moon as she often did on nights like this, most likely thinking about her family and how no matter the distance between them, they still had the same night sky.

“Mind if I sit?”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t turn to watch his every move, just kept watching the twinkling of the stars. “Not at all. It’s a nice night. Quiet. Calm.”

Mindful of what he now knew of her past, he kept his distance, but still where she could see him and feel safe just out of reach. Fink looked up to the big, silvery moon, round-faced and kind. It reminded him of a certain robot he once knew.

“He’s a great kid, clever and kind,” she said after a long silence. “You really raised him right.”

Fink scoffed and winked at the moon. “It wasn’t really me who raised him.”

“That’s not how he sees it. He thinks Roz was great, but she couldn’t have done it without you. You’re just as important to him that way. He told me so many stories.”

Digging at a spot in the ground, he did his best not to look too interested. “Yeah? Anything…good?”

She laughed then, softer than usual, but still winning the prize for his very favorite sound in the world. Standing, she came closer and Fink kept still, trying not to breathe too fast as she sat as his side, shoulder to shoulder. She was warm. She smelled like raspberries and snails and something else…something intoxicating. “Well, good enough.”

“So he convinced you I’m not going to eat you.”

“Something like that.”

Ah. He’d have to remember to thank the kid later.

“I’m sorry about earlier, Fink. I didn’t know you didn’t know about–”

“Why do you think nobody would have you?”

Farrah blinked up at him. “What?”

“You said where you were from, nobody would want you. I can’t imagine the kind of idiots you must have grown up around.”

She smiled then, a little sadly, turning her gaze to her paws. “My eyes. Nobody wants a mate with mismatched eyes. They assume I’m blind or can’t see as well as them, that because of it I wouldn’t be able to survive or I’d pass it down to their kits who'd have trouble surviving. It’s not true, but I don’t stand a chance against another vixen with matching eyes. That's nature. I just kind of accepted it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Fink gasped. “Your eyes? But they’re amazing! They’re one of my favorite things about you. They’re–” and then he faltered as she looked up hopefully at him, those bright eyes–one light and one dark–bewitching and so very distinct. And suddenly, all the fear and snark left him as he felt himself turning to pure, dopey goo. “--they’re…beautiful.”

She snuggled into his shoulder then, finally giving in, her tail coming to rest over his, wrapping herself around him. And he marveled at how fast a broken heart can heal up. As if it had never been hurt at all.

Yeah. He was really gonna have to thank that kid.

“I think I’d like to go curl up in bed,” she said, finally breaking free and turning back toward the hut where the warm orange light spilled over the snoring bulk of their bear friend and the nearby soft pile of sleeping geese. “You coming?”

“Ah, I gave my bed to the kids. I’ll probably just sleep in the grass tonight.”

She smiled, her eyes shining in the moonlight. “No you won’t. Not when there’s plenty of room in mine.”

He thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep for joy. Not with his kid home again. Not with all of his friends so close by. Not with his nose buried in the fur of Farrah’s shoulder or the curve of her slumbering body curled up around his own. Not with his heart beating as broadly as it was.

But he did. He slept. Soundly. And well.

____

SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Fink and Farrah, illustration by @grogusmum

[pinkberrytea]

midnight blue 🌙

Round, radiant and casting a creamy white halo, the moon stands before them proudly, imposingly, a celestial pearl in a sea of stars.

Diana may be too perceptive for her own good, but Astarion is no less insightful; he has a suprise for her, one she will not soon forget.

Spawn Astarion x Named F!Tav (Diana)

w/c: 1.5k words . spotify playlist . dividers

a/n: happy new year! this fic is a gift for @amoremagnificentbastard as part of our server's secret santa exchange. i was so excited that i got to write for diana, but also pretty intimidated since i feel like that's a huge responsibility! i hope i was able to do her justice. if you haven't read amy's distarion fics, please do yourself a favor and go read them already, i promise you won't be disappointed! i'd like to again thank @xxnashiraxx for her invaluable support; she was there holding my hand ever since the drafting stages, and i couldn't have done this without her. i love you friendo!

tags: hurt & comfort; fluff & angst

“How much farther, Astarion? I’m freezing,” the young priestess says, arms wrapped around herself in an unsuccessful effort to shield her shivering body from the harsh winter cold. Her coppery curls bounce with each step, the late night silence broken only by the howling wind and the crunch of snow underfoot. What was she thinking, indulging him when he insisted that they go on a “light hike”? Although in truth, denying him never came to her naturally, and it only seemed to become harder with every passing day; not that he made things any easier, but the amount of incentive required for Diana to submit to her lover’s whims had dropped to dangerously low levels in the past few months, much to her dismay.

“We’re almost there, darling.” Astarion’s face creases into a smuggish simper, and he stops, holding out a hand while waiting for her to catch up to him. “I thought you had snowfall in Amn?” he asks, voice laced with a playful lilt and eyebrows quirked upwards in feigned surprise. Diana pouts, forehead wrinkling with annoyance, acquiescing though begrudgingly and intertwining her fingers with his outstretched ones; as soon as she does, he pulls her to him and sneaks an arm around her shoulders, which doesn’t really help with the cold considering his own lack of natural heat, and yet the familiarity of his embrace brings her comfort anyway.

“We do. Just not like this,” she mutters, her softening frown betraying the disgruntled tone with which the words leave her lips. He plants a loving kiss on her temple before picking up the pace, and it doesn’t take long for the indigo sky to start peeking out through the dense foliage of the towering trees surrounding them, adorned with a glimmering blanket of twinkling stars.

“There. Just behind that rock,” Astarion says, pointing to the rocky outcrop at the end of the path they’d been following. Diana scrunches up her nose, disdain crafting her cerulean irises into a frustrated stare, but before she can protest, he squeezes her arm reassuringly and meets her gaze with rounded, almost pleading eyes. “You trust me, don’t you?”

The priestess is briefly taken aback, blinking slowly as if thinking of what to say; once enough time has passed, she lets out an exasperated sigh, hunching in defeat. “I do. You know I do. But gods, Astarion, climbing a rock? In the middle of the night? In this weather? That’s a big ask even for me,” she retorts, brushing her hair to one side, though the warmth radiating from her voice and the subtle smile tugging at the corners of her mouth tell a different story—one where he emerges victorious.

“I know, sweet girl. Thank the gods I have such a patient, understanding lover, hm?” he purrs, clearly pleased with himself. Diana sighs again, and without first shooting him a disapproving glance, she lets him guide her to the base of the rugged boulder. The night is bright enough that even her human eyes are able to make out all the ridges and crevices she’s supposed to use as leverage to reach the top, but still, Astarion steps forward and takes the lead, pulling her up as he slowly claws his way to the summit.

“Careful, darling.” Taking her hand in his, he watches her feet to make sure she’s keeping herself steady. The phantoms of days past rush through her mind as they inch closer to their intended destination, and in the minutes that follow, it’s as if they’re still lost in the wilderness with a mind flayer tadpole lodged within the recesses of their brains, a promise of ceremorphosis that would never come to be. They had climbed many a rock back then, though never during the night—their life together in the sun now feels like a distant dream, a wistful memory. 

“Do you ever regret it?” Diana asks, her voice small, hushed, no louder than a whisper; they both lie naked in their shared bed, Astarion with his pectorals pressed flat against her back, one arm folded possessively around her hip. The sunlight casts dancing shadows from behind the tightly drawn curtains, almost teasingly, caressing the pure white sheets with ghostly brushes of its long, splaying fingers. His closed eyes twitch in acknowledgement of her question, but he remains quiet for a while; when she is finally convinced he has fallen back into a trance, he then suddenly breaks the silence, cold lips vibrating against the warm skin of her shoulder as he speaks.

“Regret what, darling?” The tone with which he articulates each word is remarkably gentle, tentative, even. She doesn’t reply immediately, trying to first contend with the inevitable pang in her chest, searching for the source of it, much as it eludes her. This happiness, this halcyon bliss, why does she think herself not entitled to it? Why does it cause such guilt to bloom in the depths of her heart? No matter how many times he reassures her, it seems her soul can’t be so easily swayed—they did the right thing, of that there is no doubt, but none of it holds any weight when she isn’t the one struggling with the consequences; when he’s the one sentenced to spend the rest of his days in darkness, never again to feel the sun on his face, never again to feels its soothing heat. 

“Nothing. Forget it.” And just like that, Diana once more closes that door before it’s even opened. Truth be told, she’s terrified she won’t be able to seal it back shut; she’s terrified that whatever is hiding behind it will cause her fragile reverie to shatter into a thousand pieces, crumble into dust and dissolve in the ground beneath her feet. She’s afraid, so afraid—of losing him, of losing them, of losing everything.

Everything.

“My love?”

The silky sound of Astarion’s voice brings Diana back to the present, and she jerks her head up to look at him, eyes large and mouth slightly agape. With an eyebrow raised quizzically, he chooses to shrug her reaction off rather than dwell on it, propping himself with both arms to finally leap over the edge of the boulder; he then helps her do the same, and before long the two are standing on the highest point of the hill, hands still locked together.

“So? What do you think?” Astarion asks, staring at her expectantly, appearing almost boyish for a few fleeting moments. She returns his gaze with confusion coloring her expression, but shortly afterwards, his meaning at last becomes clear—a quick turn of her face reveals the reason why they have hiked all the way up to this place, and no sooner than such revelation is brought to light, Diana feels the threat of tears prickle her long lashes.

The full moon.

“By the Moonmaiden’s grace, Astarion… it’s beautiful,” she whispers, bringing a hand to her own quivering lips. Round, radiant and casting a creamy white halo, the moon stands before them proudly, imposingly, a celestial pearl in a sea of stars. It shines so intensely that the landscape splaying below them is fully visible to the naked eye, every tree, every stream, every stone and every flower laid completely bare, stripped from their shadowy secrets. It’s the wee hours, and yet it might as well be noon.

“You know, darling, when you made no mention of the usual request for a pint of milk with the full moon quickly approaching, I really began to worry.” Though his mouth curls up into a smirk, Astarion speaks with apologetic softness, his crimson irises gleaming affectionately. Using his free hand, he tucks an unruly lock of auburn hair behind Diana’s ear; softly brushing the pads of his elegant fingers against her cheek, he then cups it gently, gazing upon her with dreamy tenderness. “Whatever is afflicting you, my dear, we can work through it together. You need not keep it to yourself.”

The tears welling up in the priestess’ eyes finally roll down her now flushed face, leaving a glistening wet trail in their wake. Of course, how could she have been so foolish? Words are not required—she understands it now. One has no need for the sun when they are loved by the moon; one has no need for sunshine when they have the pale, forgiving glow of the Lady of Silver’s moonbeams illuminating the path forward. Astarion is not sentenced to live in darkness—not while Diana remains by his side, not while she is there to bathe him in light, warmth, and life.

Life. With everything it has to offer. 

“I love you.”

Their lips touch before their eyelids close, and for a split second they’re each able to see the tiny flecks floating around the others’ pupils, swimming in pools of blood and moonlight. Diana wraps her arms around Astarion’s neck, and he wraps his around her waist; her tears taste salty on his tongue, his breath feels cool against her skin. The winter moon watches them warmly from its place amid the stars, cradling them in its soft embrace; it’s going to be okay. They’re going to be okay. Maybe not forever—maybe not even for long, but right now, all is well, and so it shall remain, until dawn breaks, painting the sky midnight blue.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Wishing On Golden Stars [FINAL]

Kamisato Ayato

k.ayato/fem!reader

genre: isekai, slow burn, fluff, hurt/comfort, humor(?), series

chapter warning(s)!!!: ayato scolds you but thats really it!

chapter w.count: 3.7k

a/n: its finally here! the finale! let's give these fools a happy end, shall we?

When you wake up, it’s properly dark out. There's a cooling sensation on your forehead and you’re snug in a futon. A sense of deja vu washes over you as you hiss at the pounding in your head. At least whatever was on your head tried its best to stave off the headache. Not that its really working all that well.

There’s rustling to your side before the presence of something settles next to your laying form. You crack your eyes open and even though there’s only a few candles lit for visibility in the dark room, the light still makes you suck in a short breath. Electro currents really aren’t to be underestimated it would seem. The deja vu remains stuck to your mind as the cloudy visage of Ayato knelt in front of you clears up in your haze. 

“Do you always make it a habit to stick around when I’m sleeping,” you slur, your voice coming back to you in groggy waves as you try and lighten the frown on his face. He sighs, his shoulders dropping as he places his head on top of the cool cloth on your forehead. Some of the water drips out of the edges of the fabric as he applies pressure. 

He's changed into his night robes and he looks comfortable without all his layers and armored pieces on.

“Only when you make it a habit to worry me,” he counters with a bitter, unamused scoff. You let out a huff as you avert your eyes to the ceiling. 

“It’s not like I try to.” 

“Your track record of staying out of trouble fails to support your claim.” The rag of now lukewarm water that had been heated by both your skin and Ayato’s palm is lifted from your head. The remaining dampness feels sticky on your forehead as the air quickly begins to dry it. “Do you realize how reckless you can be?” His voice has a bite to it that you knew was coming. “Thoma sends you out on a brief errand and you do not return back home all day. Naturally, I would worry.” You don't watch him, but you can hear him dunk the rag back into water and wring the cloth out. “I go to retrieve you from whatever it was that was keeping you, and through various people’s testimonies, I found you outside Konda Village. That itself is not the issue, however.” The rag is placed gently back on your head, the action kind and delicate despite Ayato’s bitter tone. He was clearly upset. “Can you begin to understand the depths of my stomach when I saw you in the middle of a battle on the verge of unconsciousness because you were subjected to injuries?” 

You finally turn your head and look at him. The look on his face is soaked deep in so many emotions. His eyes were scared, his lips snared in a frown, cheeks flushed in anger at the memory. Even his posture was rigid. 

“That was you who showed up?” You knew it wasn’t Aether at the end of it all. Part of you was glad it was Ayato. 

“It was,” he sighs. “Luckily for us both, Aether is more familiar with the Priestess of Sangonomiya Shrine than I. He was able to transport you to her for healing swiftly.” You open your mouth in awe. That would explain that even after being shocked with so much energy, all that ails you was a headache and minor pains. “I shall be in her debt for some time for her service.” 

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to place you into any difficult situations that could strain the Tri-commission and the previous rebellion leader.” Ayato says nothing and you’re not sure if that’s a good thing or not. “I’ll be sure to pay my respects and gratitude to Sangonomiya as soon as I can.” Still, he says nothing in return to your words. He must be angrier than you thought. 

Silence swallows the dim room in a gloomy air. Ayato remains beside you, just staring out of the room’s window while you continue to stare at the ceiling between prolonged blinking. This was the last thing you needed to happen. Talking to Aether gave you the advice, courage and push you needed to come up with an answer to the one thing that had been plaguing you- that being Ayato’s feelings. Out of the corner of your eye, you glance at him. 

Sitting there, he still looks so stupidly beautiful it was envy inducing. How this man saw anything desirable in you when he looks like he could sweep even a God off their feet with a single smile, you’re not sure. In the same breath though, it does inflate your ego to know one of the most powerful men in Inazuma has the hots for you. Then, you frown. 

“Ayato,” you whisper, foregoing his title that has him humming towards your call without looking down at you. “I’m sorry.” His shoulders almost slump. “For worrying you.” 

“Indeed. As you should be.” You almost pout. He could at least try and accept your apology. Still, you’re understanding and know where his emotions are coming from. 

“You must’ve been scared,” you whisper. Afraid that you might be crossing a line in assuming his feelings. The man who had his childhood ripped away from him when his parents passed. The boy who had to grow up in the span of hours to even begin to know how to protect and raise his little sister. The boy who grew up into a man who was probably more lonely than he lets others know. Losing someone he’s confessed love to right in front of him? It must’ve been awful. 

Ayato’s fists clench in his lap. You can see the tensing of his muscles going up his forearm in the corner of your eye. He takes a deep breath in, before holding it and letting it out harshly. 

“Petrified.” His admittance was so quiet you could’ve confused it with the passing wind outside. It’s like your hazy vision clears perfectly when you see the way his face twitches. The Commissioner disappears, even if just for a moment, and all that you see before you is the man, Kamisato Ayato. Fitful, fearful, and so stupidly scared in love. 

You spring up with strength you didn’t know you had in your limbs. The rag on your head flying off towards the foot of your futon. Ayato’s body jolts, shifting back away from your sudden movement. You ignore the dizziness in your head that threatens to push you back into the mattress as you swivel your body towards the pale haired man. Still, your brow twitched at the pang of pain that shoots through you like a current. 

“Do not move like that!” Ayato scolds. 

The Commissioner’s hands move from his lap to grasp onto your shoulders. Whether to steady you or push you back down to rest, you weren’t sure. Maybe both, maybe none; maybe it was just instinctual. Still, it was a chance.

Your hands shoot up, palms latching around his wrists to keep him anchored to you and once again Ayato is faced with your brute strength when he feels shackled onto your body. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation. 

“Ayato!” You raise your voice firmly, once again dismissing his pedigree and refusing to collect it from the floor on which you throw the title. “I love you,” you boldly declare. You swear he blue screens. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me on the night of the meteor shower; like thinking about it a lot. I wanted to properly answer you, but you’re such an important person in Inazuma- I just needed a lot of time. Time and advice. Thoma and Ayaka were encouraging, but I needed someone like me to talk to. Someone not from Teyvat. Someone like Aether.” 

Ayato watches as you talk and talk and pour your words out like some sort of unclogged drain. Words washing over him like a silken blanket that fell from Celestia, coating him in warmth. 

You feel his arms twitch in your grasp, lifting from your shoulders and you panic. What if he’s changed his mind? What if you had caused him trouble enough times that he was over it?

“Wait-” you scramble when he manages to peel his wrists from your grip. Instead of standing up and leaving you alone on the floor, Ayato’s wrists twist so that he was the one now holding your hands.

His palms were warm. You could fully feel the difference of skin between the heel of his hand that was calloused from swordplay and the deep softness of the dip in his palm. His thumbs run across your knuckles as his hands encase yours. 

“Relax,” he instructs and to your credit, you do try. Ayato can feel the slight tremor in your hands as he holds them. Feel the cool sensation of your nervous skin under his. See the stiff stature of your shoulders and the way your eyes panic at being left. The Yashiro Commissioner is the pro at reading facial and body ques, but even if your squirming is adorable, he won’t let you steep in disconcerting emotions right in front of him. Not right now. “I understand” -he brings your hands up to his chin, clutched fingers resting just under his bottom lip- “you don’t need to worry.” 

“Do you really?” You press, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

“I do.” 

“Ayato-” you’re sure you’re about to start rambling again, words so desperate crawling their way up your throat to explain yourself. Your actions. Your avoidance. And your feelings. All so he could understand crystal clear that how you feel isn’t just because he confessed to you. Or because he was a powerful figure.

These feelings aren’t being coerced out of you or being fabricated because he’s a man of power. You need to tell him that you’ve had these stupid feelings for him for so long- even before he was flesh in blood in front of you and just data inside a computer screen. 

Ayato is a smart man. He knows. He knows what actions, feelings and emotions being pulled out of someone by force looks like. It looks nothing like your flustered expression and shaky hands and glassy eyes. You're being so genuinely cute he wants to combust. 

Chuckling to himself, he sees your jaw drop again. Before anything comes out, he leans forward to place a kiss to your cheek, just below your eye on the apple of your face. He’s sure if you were to smile, he’d feel the skin push up against his lips.

Oh, he hopes he can experience that soon. 

Backing away from your skin, Ayato stays within your breath. Hands still clasped gently- so delicately in his own- between you both. 

“Calm down,” he almost teases you. He watches you take deep, unsteady breathes, and finds your obedience endearing. “Good,” he praises. His suave nature of the situation cracks after you collect yourself from word vomit central as he lets out a deep breath of his own. Letting his head slump down, he rests it on your shoulder. Face turned so his nose was ghosting against your neck. His fingers start tinkering and toying with yours like some sort of fidget toy. 

Nothing else is said for the remainder of the night. Ayato ends up falling asleep on your shoulder and you take it upon yourself to lay your employer and potential lover down to avoid any neck strain. Taking your place back in your futon next to him, you make sure to keep a space between you both. When the sun rises and the air is new, you’d be able to talk things through properly. 

When Ayato opens his eyes the next morning, the sun isn’t the golden color of dawn he’s used to seeing. It’s warm and yellow and from the ruckus outside the door sounds like late morning activities and chores being done. He’s on his back and he knows the ceiling he’s staring at, knowing the futon he’s half on and knows the warmth of the body next to him. Turning his head, he’s convinced that waking up to you is the only thing that he wants for the rest of his time on Teyvat. He’s seen you sleep and rest plenty of times, between being ill and being caught in the middle of battle (albeit the latter is a new experience he strongly dislikes), but this is different. It’s intimate. 

Sitting up, he places one of his hands on your head, careful not to stir you and wake you from the rest he’s sure you need. Even if you didn’t need rest and were completely healthy, he’d be more than accepting if you wanted to spend all day in bed and forget your job completely. Of course, you’d probably just freak out realizing you slept in and hadn’t been earning your keep as part of the Kamisato staff.  

Ayato wonders if you’d still want to be under his payroll if he’s to properly court you? Would that be too risqué? Pursuing a member of his own staff… or perhaps thrilling? 

There's a soft knock on the door you both occupy and he knows that it could only be Thoma or his sister since this was his room after all.  Ayato doesn’t let just anyone interrupt his business in his own personal quarters. 

With his hand still gently playing with your head and twisting your hair around his fingers, he speaks quietly and allows the person entry. Thoma’s head popping in was no shock to the Commissioner. Walking fully past the threshold and into the room, Thoma shuts the door behind him. Giddy and pleased as punch, he sits himself down near his boss and friend. 

“Thoma,” Ayato starts, forgoing any good morning pleasantries. “Would it be considered distasteful to announce y/n as my lover while also keeping them on staff?” 

Instead of acting shocked or repulsed or even confused, the housekeeper cups his chin and closes his eyes as if in deep thought. He hums even, adding to Ayato’s glee. 

“While I personally see no issues with it, others- especially outside of the Yashiro Commission and Kamisato Clan- could potentially see it as something… tacky.” Ayato joins in on Thoma’s air of serious thought. 

“Yes, I could see how that could be taken by others. They could even try and slander y/n’s good name and hard work should I let my guard down.” Then, he scoffs; promptly dismissing the outside opinion entirely. “Pity I care not for public opinion on such important personal matters.” Ayato twists his torso so that he’s looking back down to your sleeping form. His hand moves from your head to your forehead. Finger tracing down the slope of your nose to push against your lips and trail from the corner of your mouth to your cheek and up and around your ear. If he was a blind man, he could still easily see your beauty this way. 

Thoma clears his throat with a flushed face, feeling like he was suddenly intruding. “I’ll go and prepare something easy on the stomach for y/n to eat when she wakes up. Surely she’ll be hungry.” 

“Yes,” Ayato nods, “see to it. After her situation yesterday, we’re not sure how well her stomach will be, so please be mindful with the selection. I shall also eat with her.” Thoma nods, already to standing back up and excusing himself. 

Once alone again, Ayato lays himself back down on his side to just look at you. He’s not sure how much time passes or when your eyes open. Perhaps he zoned out, and just didn’t realize you were now awake looking back at him. 

“You have a staring problem?” You ask him, groggy and cranky just as you always are when you first wake up. He chuckles, bringing a hand up to pinch at your cheek. 

“Don’t be cheeky now,” he hums and you groan, swatting away his hand. He catches your assault and brings your knuckles to his lips, kissing each one delicately and individually. “Good morning.” 

“Who’s being cheeky now,” you mutter but don’t move to pull away from him. Ayato’s exceptionally pleased as he sits up, pulling your arm so you join him. You slip your hand from his and stretch, looking outside and realize that you should probably get up. It hasn’t been that long since you recovered from being sick and now you’re back in bed? That can’t look good to the other staff members.

If you had said that out loud, Ayato would have snickered a cheeky ‘I knew it’ in your face at his initial assumption to the current time and your work.

“Thoma will be back shortly with something for us to eat,” Ayato tells you, seeing you start kicking the covers off your legs. “Stay until then.” 

“I’m kind of sick of eating in bed like a patient. If I have to eat, I’d rather do so at a proper table.” You sigh. While what you say isn’t untrue, the real reason for you wanting to get up was to maybe get out of the futon and get some air. Ayato nods. 

“I see.” He stands to his feet, his clothes that had been well slept in from the night well beyond wrinkled. “Just a moment,” he walks away from you and heads to a pair of sliding doors that reveal more clothes. During the moments he spends rummaging around, you finally realize where you were. Fanning your face, you look away as soon as he starts undressing into something not wrinkled and meant for sleeping. Maybe you could sneak out as he changed- so blatantly- in your presence with his back turned. Being in Ayato’s room made you feel woozy on top of everything else. 

“I’m just going to-” You mutter to yourself, pushing the futon cover off your legs fully. Before you could even get into a position to get up, Ayato’s voice stops you. 

“Stay put.” Looking over your shoulder, he’s not even looking towards you. A new shirt on his torso and fussing with the tassels that hang over his shoulders. You conceded almost immediately, deflating back onto the futon. He struts over once presentable, bends to grab your arm and trail his hand down it to grab your hand before lifting you to your feet. “Now, we can leave.” Ayato leaves his room with you tethered and pulled along by him. 

You pass Thoma with a tray of food set for two and you can tell he’s trying not to laugh at your expense. Everyone who’s within the path is obviously staring at the Kamisato Clan head guiding you through the halls by your hand and the attention makes you squirm and heat up. Clearly, it must be entertaining.

“Thoma, we’ve decided to eat in a proper setting.” 

“Of course!” He’s well ahead of the game and shifts gears to lead you both to the dining room. Ayaka hears rumor of Ayato’s hand holding scene and rushes- as dignified as possible- to join the fun. 

The day goes by in a blur. You’re returned to work, under the strict supervision of Thoma, while the two siblings huddled together in hushed giggles and schemes you were sure is just more trouble. Every time Ayato spied you in the halls or out in the yard, he would come trotting over unrestrained. Saying something quick to you before taking your hand, squeezing it and letting it go. Ayaka shot you giddy looks at any chance she got and Thoma... kept his mouth shut. Mostly because he was the only one who you would probably get away with smacking if it came down to it. 

When night falls, before turning in for bed, you had changed into your night clothes before deciding one more task needed to be done. It wasn’t for you, or maybe it wasn’t even that important, but for Ayato’s sake you wanted to try and ease his worries. You knocked on his door, cradling something in your hand when he slides his doors open to come face to face with you. 

“Y/n,” he smiles. “What brings you here?” 

“Hold out your hands,” your face was hot. Why was this so embarrassing? He does as you say, holding out a single, empty palm. You place what you had into his. 

“A handkerchief?” He questions. Was this a custom from your world maybe? He takes the folded cloth and starts unfolding it before his eyes widen at what was being held inside of it. 

“You can keep that. It’s” -you wring your hands- “It’s hard to explain, but I think this is part of the reason I found myself in Inazuma. Maybe if you keep it with you, you’ll feel better about things.” Ayato’s free hand comes to grab the small, circular piece of purple and blue twined bead-sized ball. It felt light like candy and reminded him of the stars the night before he met you.

It was the very same item he somehow knew you had in your pocket when he saw you in the Tenryou prison cell for the first time. “I don’t have all the answers on how I got here, or why. And I can’t make any promises that I won’t end up… leaving..?” You scrounge around for more reassuring words but fall short. “For what it’s worth though, I want to stay. Here. With you.” 

Ayato’s hand curls around the piece of fate and brings his fist up to his lips. Smiling with his eyes, crows feet crinkle his skin. He grabs your wrist and drags you into his room for the second night in a row, sliding the door shut at your back. The candle he has lit is soon extinguished afterwards and you don’t come back out. 

It took all of one, simple day for rumors to run around the estate, and even beyond its walls, that Kamisato Ayato had finally shown romantic interest in someone. Rumored still that the person he’s supposedly now courting is not only someone he picked up from a prison cell years ago and not from Inazuma, but is one kept on his payroll. 

None of that mattered though. Not when he’s able to look up and watch the next meteor shower with you, holding your hand instead of worrying you’d fly away with them at the end of it all. That’s all he wants; you, safe and happy with him in his home with his family.

And Kamisato Ayato usually gets what he wants. 

-END-

a/n pt.2: if you've decided to take the time to read through 9 parts of an insanely messy ayato fanfiction, words can't describe my appreciation! i worked pretty hard on this series and seeing it come to an end makes me feel satisfied. It's not the most popular by far, but its finished and for those who read it- i thank you from the bottom of my heart <3

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[buoyantsaturn]

fics I read in 2024 that made me go crazy

wherever he is, is where I'll go (what if I said he's down below?) by Caora / @curseofdelos [T, 68,790, 4/4]

When Will ventured into the underworld for the first time, he was hoping to find his sister. He did not expect to find Nico di Angelo. After the tragic death of his sister Gracie, Will Solace hatched a plan - go to the underworld, seek an audience with Hades, and lead her out of the underworld just like Orpheus had tried before him - but his attempts were immediately waylaid by Hades’s mysterious son, Nico. What started off as a rivalry shifted into something more, and soon Will found himself dropping by the underworld every week to spend time with the boy who stole his heart - and whose heart he may have stolen back. There was just one problem: Nico couldn’t leave the underworld and Will couldn’t stay. Despite the insurmountable odds, Will was determined to make a relationship between them work - if only he could find a way to get Nico out. (Canon Divergent AU in which Nico grew up in the underworld. Solangelo star-crossed lovers. Witten for the Solangelo Week AUctober prompts light/dark/boundary.)

When The Day Bleeds by Wrish / @espritwrish [M, 85,780, 6/6, MCD]

There's not a lot left in a world ravaged by monsters, and yet Nico still somehow finds himself face to face with possibly the most infuriating boy he's ever met. -- Nico stared at the wheelchair in disdain, looking for a sign that Will was joking. “Seriously?” Will nodded, a grin forming on his face, “Could not be more serious.” Glaring, Nico couldn’t help the childish urge and flung his arms out, gesturing to the others in the room, “No one else needs one.” He challenged, irritation thoroughly sparked in his chest. “No one else needed to be handcuffed to a gurney.” Will deadpanned, eyes still sparkling with mirth, “Chair, now. Doctor’s orders.” -- How the hell had his life ended up this way?

Sour by Skitty_chii / @icravestrawberryflavoureddeath [T, 91,646, 14/14]

(part one of the Tasteless series) “Hey, I’m a gay man. The only things that scare me are God and the government, I just don’t understand all of that,” he said as he gestured to Piper. She rolled her eyes, but was still smiling. “But hey, at least you can listen to Olivia Rodrigo’s album and really feel it now.” Piper let out the loudest laugh she could, her entire body was shaking as she doubled over. Nico couldn’t help but copy her. They had joked about her and Jason breaking up just so she could listen to the album to the fullest about a month ago, but now that joke was a bit too real. “Oh, god. You’re fucking right.” Nico decided that he could keep making jokes as it seemed like Piper was starting to feel a bit better. “God, I wish I had someone to break up with to listen to it. We could go through this together,” he joked, but Piper just grinned and raised a brow. “Why don’t you just ask someone to date you and then break up.” “What the fuck?” “Seriously,” she started, “I think that would be so fucking funny.” “Who would I even ask to do that?” “Why not Will?”

Olympus Detective Agency, Inc. by hello_blue_moon / @hello-bluemoon [T, 44,496, 12/12]

“Will saved the contact to his phone, then swiped back to the message and stared at the words written there. P. Jackson & A. Chase: Olympus Detective Agency. And that was how it began.” Or: the modern detective AU that nobody asked for.

Falling With You by emi @thelordofshrimp [T, 1,635]

They’d watched their way through genre after genre, with the notable exception of any movies strictly about romance. Will’s third suggestion of the Princessbride, though it was technically a love story, had made the list because the action outweighed the “kissing parts.” It hadn't been a spoken decision, but when Will scrolled through online lists of movies, he’d read all the titles, except for the rom-coms. Nico never pointed it out.

Delilah by daniearnest / @softhearted-dani [M, 6,585]

“I don’t understand,” Jason said, swirling his straw in his milkshake without looking. “What’s so hard to understand about he isn’t my boyfriend?”

love is like ghosts (few have felt it but everybody talks) by Caora / @curseofdelos [T, 38,447]

Nico had a timer on his forearm that counted down to the moment he met his soulmate. It did not, however, tell him what he was supposed to do once he met them. Nico di Angelo hated the concept of soulmates. He wanted to choose who he spent his life with, and he certainly didn’t trust a stranger not to break his heart. True love was something that happened to other people; it did not happen to him. If given the choice, Nico would have gone the rest of his life without ever meeting his soulmate, but no, the universe just had to pair him with Will Solace, a hopeless romantic he had nothing in common with and who thought Nico’s approach to soulmates was cynical and pessimistic. It couldn’t work. It shouldn’t work… …but Fate had a plan for him, and Nico was about to learn that falling in love was a long slow descent. (Solangelo soulmate AU. Written for Solangelo Week Day 4 - AU.)

put your hand in mine through space and time by myileo / @onion-dishwasher [T, 8,671]

It was an hourglass. Simple, practical, portable. As tall as his hand was long. Fine golden grains trickled down. Whatever length of time it counted was halfway passed. “What’s it counting down to?” Will asked. “The end of the world?” Nico’s hold on it was gentle, as if he were holding a glass flower that would shatter from the smallest breeze. “Something like that.” . In which Will meets Nico in every universe.

Salvage by MuffinLance / @muffinlance [T, 127,145, 20/20]

Mid-Season-One Zuko is held for ransom by Chief Hakoda. Ozai's replies to the Water Tribe's demands are A+ Parenting. Hakoda is… deeply concerned, for this son that isn't his, and who might be safer among enemies than with his own father.

good old-fashioned lover boy by brainrot247 [G, 2,338]

“I swear to the gods if you touch that door handle, Solace,” Nico threatened, opening his own door and climbing out quickly. Kayla and Will watched Nico round the front of the car before Will turned to look at her, humor dancing in his eyes. “Watch,” he said. He reached for the door handle and cracked open the door just as Nico made it to his side. Without pausing, Nico threw his hand against the door and shut it again. ____________________ or, five things nico is a little romantic about

[secretlifeoflyss]

Head cannon taking place after Curtis parents death but before book events where Darry can feel the rift between him and Ponyboy start to widen and he reflects on how different their relationship was years ago:

It was a particularly bad day at school and Ponyboy, overwhelmed with schoolwork and exhaustion, finally breaks down. His backpack is splayed out on the floor and his legs fold beneath him, the cold tile on their kitchen floor the only thing still grounding him. His body is wracked with sobs, sobs that Darry only faintly hears through walls at night sometimes, before they’re soothed by their mama rushing in. But now they were loud and piercing and made Darry look up from his own schoolwork, concern etching its way into his heart.

As he opened the door, he could hear their mother trying to calm down Ponyboy but Pony’s sobs are so loud it seems like he can’t hear her. He’s crumpled up, hugging his knees to his chest, tears like a never-ending waterfall down his cheeks. Ever the expert in handling Ponyboy’s emotions, Sodapop is next on the scene, arms outstretched. Darry approaches his mother’s side cautiously, hoping she knew somewhat what was going on. He places his hand on her shoulder, a silent ask, but with the way her brow is creased Darry knows she is just as clueless as him.

Soda being so in tune with Pony’s emotions was something he secretly envied. Even at their young ages of 11 and 13, they were so in sync. Darry swears he can see them having silent conversations at the dinner table. It was something Darry longed to be a part of too, but tried to not let himself think about it for very long. Besides, he’s a senior now, he doesn’t need to hang out with smelly little brothers.

Darry watched with bated breath as Soda put on his most comforting smile and began talking in that soft voice he does only around Ponyboy. But as Sodapop tried to bring Pony into his arms, you would think that Ponyboy had been burnt by Soda’s touch with the way he flinched away from him. Ponyboy’s cries grew even louder, seeming to shake the whole house. Darry was sure their neighbors could hear the racket. Sodapop turned to Darry, hurt visible in his eyes.

Darry loves his littlest brother, of course he does. But it’s hard to bond with an eleven year old when you’re trying to get a full ride scholarship for football. Practice and honors classes take up time, time Darry doesn’t have as much of to spend with his little brothers. But that doesn’t mean he won’t fulfill his big brother duties when he needs to. He’ll happily look over Pony’s homework if he asks. Will walk his brothers home from school if their dad can’t pick them up after work. Those moments where he gets to be Soda and Pony’s big brother, Darry can’t help but feel his ego start to fluff up each time. He was their big brother, Superman, and there was a part of him that loved being needed like that.

After a third and failed attempt by Sodapop, Ponyboy’s tear-filled eyes began darting around the room. He pushed Soda away, prompting a light scolding from their mother before his cries drowned her out again.

“No! Darry! I just want Darry!” Ponyboy screamed at the top of his lungs.

For just a moment, Darry felt frozen in place. Ponyboy had long grown out of the phase where he followed his big brothers around. He still did it sometimes, Darry noticed, but Pony would swear up and down that he didn’t do that anymore and that he ain’t no kid. But now, with Ponyboy calling for him, all Darry can see his kid brother as that toddler again, crying out for Darry after Soda and Steve accidentally got too rough with him.

He wraps Ponyboy in his arms, crouching with him on the floor of their kitchen, hugging him from behind. Gently, Darry cards his fingers through his brother’s auburn hair, and whispers reassurances in his ear, just like his momma’s done all their lives.

“It’s okay, Pone. I gotcha little buddy, I’m right here,” he presses his chest up against Pony’s back to try to get his brother to match his breathing. He could feel his family’s surprised gaze falling down on them. He knows what they’re thinking. Usually it’s their mom or Sodapop who Ponyboy wants for comfort. Darry hasn’t had to calm his brother down like this since he was a toddler. He’s just as surprised as they are, if he’s being honest. But there’s a small part of him that couldn’t be happier his brother wanted him again. And perhaps that was a selfish thought, but as Ponyboy’s cries began to dwindle, Darry couldn’t stop that proud feeling that bloomed in his chest again at the thought that his kid brother still needed him.

But now, as Ponyboy made a b-line from the front door to his room everyday after school, barely speaking two words to Darry since their parents passed, Darry yearned for that feeling again. And sure, while he was needed so their family could stay together and have a roof over their heads, it was a different kind of need. One that turned Ponyboy against him every time Darry tried had to remind him about curfew, his grades, or to keep his feet planted on the ground. He could feel the distance between them growing everyday, and every day it left a sinking feeling in his chest. So many days Darry felt like they were standing on two sides of a canyon, the distance between them far too great to ever reach the other.

Ponyboy was fourteen now, and hell-bent on being independent. Thinking that he knows the world well enough to be independent. He could do his own homework now. Doesn’t need Darry to look over it anymore, hell, with the way Pony writes, Darry’s sure he won’t even be able to keep up in a year or two. Most days, Darry’s reminders are met with rolled eyes and attitude Darry is sure their dad would never have let slide. Truth was, his kid brother was growing up and in just four short years wasn’t gonna need Darry at all anymore. And that thought squeezed Darry’s heart a bit tighter as he tried to focus on the dinner he was making.

Darry silently looked down the hallway and stared at the closed door at the end of the hall. As he stared at the door, whose white paint had definitely seen better days, he wondered if Ponyboy remembered that day he called out just for Darry. If it meant as much to Pony as it did Darry. But the longer he stared, the longer he couldn’t fight the nagging, pulling, selfish feeling in his heart that wished Ponyboy would call out for him again. For his littlest brother to need him like that again.

sorry for the angst, may write this out more but the sun is coming up and i need to sleep :)

[fandomscombine]

Sorry, Bossman

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

BG: When a Sunday morning in with your secret boyfriend turned into a sudden work meeting. Will the early morning grogginess cause a slip up? Especially since the except profilers have noticed your recent lateness?

A/N: Wanted to be secretive on who the reader’s pairing would be but I has to properly tag the fic - so just pretend you didn’t know the reader’s S.O. is Aaron Hotchner in the first few paragraphs okay? Lol

Anyway, it’s my second ever Aaron Hotchner fic. Still coming around to perfection his tone and essence.I hope you enjoy this sweet fluffy fic!

WC: 1034

>>>GENERAL MASTERLIST<<<

>>>CRIMINAL MINDS MASTERLIST<<<

It’s Sunday morning and you can feel the rays of sunshine seeping through your bedroom curtain. The team has just gotten back from a week-long grueling case Friday night and you’ve missed the feeling of being in your own bed. Saturday was spent lounging around being a homebody as your mind and body recharges - your plans for today? To linger in this bliss and let the real world slip away.

You roll over, back now towards your window. With eyes still closed, you lazily extend your arm until you find a warm presence. A soft chuckle fills the room as you snuggle closer to your partner. “Hmm morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning, my love” You reply. Voice muffled as you place a kiss on his chest. Your head finds solace as a steady heartbeat enters your ear. Wanting nothing more, than to stay in this moment longer. 

But in true universe fashion, it decides that a one day break is more than enough. 

The bed dips and you feel a cold breeze brush through your body as the blanket is moved. You keep your eyes closed, silently pleading this is just a part of a dream and that when you wake up you get to have Sunday home.

“Yes, I’ll have my team notified and in the office within the hour.” 

The words flow muffled into your ears - the pillow doing little to discard the reality of it all. 

A hand comes up your arm, he knows you’re not a morning person but work can’t wait. “Come on sweetheart, we’ve got a case”

You groan, there’s no way you can say no to him - especially when you’re in the receiving end of his soft eyes.  But that doesn’t mean you can tease him to get a few more moments in bed. “Sorry, bossman hasn’t called me yet.” 

He gives you his signature pointed stare and gives into your play. Your ringtone fills the room, the caller ID “Agent Hotchner” illuminates the screen officially calling you in for the case.

“Alright, alright.” Accepting surrender as you mute your phone. 

“Thanks.” Aaron reaches out his hand to help you off the bed. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Something quick, a sandwich maybe? I still have to get home and repack my go bag.”

Aaron stares a bit confused.

“Cause we went straight here after the case? And I’ve been wearing your clothes” Gesturing to what you currently have on - Aaron’s beloved brown half zip sweater and his boxers. “Not that I’m complaining or anything.” There’s just something completely domestic about wearing Aaron’s clothes. Not worrying about looking perfect and being wrapped in Aaron’s home life. You can’t help but smile at the normality of it all.

“Right, it got me thinking” Aaron steps closer, grabbing your waist. “Maybe we should get you a drawer, you know since you practically live here half the time.”

He is about a head taller than you, so you wrap your arms around his neck as stability. Biting your lips to stop your heart from racing and the premature grin that’s threatening to take over, you ask. “Aaron Hotchner, are you saying that you wanna take this to the next level?” You ask, 

“Yes I do.” He says with all gentle seriousness. This close, you can clearly see his dilated pupils under the dim lights.

“Then that sounds like a plan.” Pulling him closer, relaying all the joy and love that’s oozing out of your heart into a searing kiss.

~

“Sorry I’m late.” You announce to the room. It’s current 8:23am and the team is already 3 pages into the case debrief. 

“Take your seat agent.” Hotch replies, not looking at you as he focuses on turning the next slide. To most, Hotch’s reaction is normal that of a boss’ slight annoyance at his employee’s tardiness. 

But you ofcourse know his tell, an involuntary, subconscious sign that indidicates their hiding something. Which in this case, if Aaron scratching the back of his neck - an act you’ve became familiar with ever since you started dating. It was Aaron’s way of hiding his blush, though you have assured him that he looks absolutely adorable when he reddens. 

There’s just this power of his dimples that takes a hold on you and leaves you mesmorised. 

“Yes, sir.”  You settle as quickly as you can right next to Morgan. He hands you a spare set of case files when something catches his eye.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Morgan asks, the shift in tone notable.

“Lucky guy?” Furrowing your brow. Derek Morgan is known to be a tease and you often join in on the fun - although you’re not liking it when the spotlight is on you.

“Yea..” Joins in Emily - this is the type of tea that would get her energy up this early in the morning. “You aren’t normally late but these past couple of cases you are~” 

“What?” With the team slowing teaming up against you couple with the morning brain fog - your defensiveness is apparent.

“Reid, back me up!”

“Just from this past month alone, y/n has been late 3 times.” Chimed in the young doctor. “Most notably after our long cases or on Mondays.”  

The audacity of Reid smiling after stating the fact nonchalantly. You picture your glare burning holes through the smart brain of his. However, before you can succeed in doing so, Derek drops the fatal shots.

“And next time don’t forget the badly covered hickeys at the under your ear.”

You’re dumbfounded, instantly grabbing your phone and checking your ear with the selfie camera. Lo and behold the unmistakable purple mark just below your ear lobe. Wincing slightly as your finger touches the tender spot.

Eyeing the team before landing on Aaron. Arching a brow as if to say ‘Why did you have to bite so hard?’

“Wait, Hotch? No way!” Morgan exclaimed, head moving left and right as he connects the dots. 

The silence that follows is death-defying, never have you seen a room full of expert profilers stuned and frozen in place.

You’re caught. Sorry, Bossman

It’s Aaron who breaks the spell. “Looks like the secret is out, sweetheart.” He says, sporting an uncharacteristic smirk.

[ang3lofdivinity]

🎐⋅˚₊‧𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾’𝗌 𝖠𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗍𝖾‧₊˚⋅🐚

Relationship(s) :: Jinx + Calypso!fem!reader

Genre :: Fluff, hurt/comfort

Format :: Story

Warnings :: More Arcane season 2 act 3 spoilers! Some implications of SH (reader), a bit more trauma, happy ending, the gods kinda suck, HOMOSEXUALS FINALLY GET TOGETHER!!/hj, kinda inspired by Jorge’s cut song from Epic “Appetite” along with “Would You Fall In Love With Me Again”, Reader gets better at the end here, READER IS NOT CALYPSO - more so takes her place, possibly suggestive at the end?

A/N :: AHHHH I cannot believe I wrote THIS much that I had to make a new part entirely. But nonetheless, happy holidays everyone! I hope everyone stays safe this year and gets some good stuff nevertheless of what you’re celebrating! (Side note: ..Should I turn this into a series with more parts? I’m gonna hold a poll for when the time comes — which will be right after I post this). I hope this lives up to your expectations everyone!! + HAPPY NEW YEARS!! (W.C: 10.6k)

Ⅰ - Ⅱ - Ⅲ

Jinx does not remember how long it has been since you’ve left. And you can say the same.

You’ve only been hiding away for as long as you possibly could without the bluette finding you before she left you, just like all the others. See, this is why you shouldn’t allow your emotions to gain control over you! They’ll take the things you love the most as you’re left there to cry and mourn over their loss. And this time? You actually allowed yourself to fall for their tricks!! You’re so STUPID, aren’t you? You should’ve known that this would’ve never been able to last.

She is a lost mortal, and you are an imprisoned goddess.

And the ones pulling the strings?

The gods above. For they hold more power over the both of you than you could possibly know. Or do they?

You lay down, cured up into yourself as you cry against the forest floor, everything around disappearing. (At least it felt like it, as you had begun to focus on the fact that you were crying for so long, your throat going sore and your eyes getting all red and puffy).

It’s pathetic of you really, all of this is pathetic.

You should’ve never allowed yourself to grow attached, you should’ve never allowed yourself to open up to Jinx, you should’ve KNEW that this was doomed to happen one day! Nothing can ever go right for you, can it now?

‘So whats the next course of action’, you ask yourself.

To wallow in your sorrow for a bit longer. To allow yourself to bawl your eyes out as Jinx is taken from you.

.

Time has become useless as Jinx stands at the edge of the beach, breathing heavily, her fists clenching and unclenching as she grits her teeth.

Does she always have to mess things up?

Does she always have to be the Jinx?

In the wake of your disappearance, she feels something staring at her.

Upon turning around however, she sees..

Some kind of ball of pure light??

It’s almost blinding as she stares at it, the luminosity making it almost impossible to define the shape of the object. Covering her eyes with an arm while groaning, she speaks up.

“Hello?”

“You’ve had your fun, mortal.” A voice booms, distant yet close, vibrating through the air. Though it doesn’t exactly feel like one singular voice, it feels more like.. thousands. Thousands of voices as they echo and vibrate. Its presence feels heavy, suffocating. As if she’s being strangled.

And as they speak, she knows what this is.

“Your presence here has disrupted the balance. She was meant to suffer, to repent. Not to cling to you.”

Jinx glares, lowering her arm to stare at the thing.

“Balance? Suffering? You’re the ones screwing her up, not me.”

“This is not your concern. Leave this place and let her fate proceed as it was written.” The tone of the voices grows sharper, as if she was going to listen to them.

“Over my dead body.” Jinx spits the words like venom.

The form twists in agitation, and the faint sound of crackling can be heard.

“You defy orders from the gods?”

“Damn right I do.” She huffs as she narrows her eyes at the form before her, nails now digging into the flesh of her palms.

“She’s not your pawn anymore. And if you try to keep me from her, I’ll blow this paradise of yours sky-high! I’ve got enough bombs to make that little heaven of yours look like rubble.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence that lingers after her words are spoke, but shortly after - the form slowly turns smaller and less bright, making Jinx thankful.

“Very well,” they finally relent, voice hollow.

“But know this, mortal: your bond with her cannot last. You will only bring her more pain.”

“And you cannot deny our orders forever. We have more power than you possibly imagine.”

With that, the light travels off elsewhere, leaving Jinx alone once more on the empty shore.

You don’t know how long you’ve been walking, the forest endlessly stretching all around you, the grass brushing against your feet as you continue to walk. The crashing of waves still manages to fill your ears, but it is still not able to keep drowning out the chaotic storm of your own thoughts.

It hurts. All of this hurts.

It shouldn’t, but it does anyway.

Leaving her was the only way, you tell yourself. If she stayed, she would forever hate you - wouldn’t she? There was no chance for either of you, ever. There never truly was.

She is a mortal meandering around without the knowledge that lies in the powers of those she barely knows of.

You drag yourself further away from her and deeper into the forest. You stop momentarily, your chest rising and falling with labored breaths, the tears on your cheeks now cold from the salty air from moments before.

Your mind races with images of Jinx from those very moments, however: her wild eyes, her expression as she looked up at you, the way she’d yelled after you, that vulnerability of hers for just a moment.

You kneel on the grassy floor, clutching your head, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of emotions crashing through you. Your tears drip into the blades of grass below, disappearing instantly, as if the island itself were swallowing your grief.

You try to focus on your resolve—to forget her, to let her go.

But it feels like trying to breathe underwater: suffocating and unnatural.

You take a moment before allowing yourself to fall on your side on the islands grassy floor, tears falling one after the other. The mist seems to grow denser ahead, swirling in unnatural patterns even as you lay on your side. Eventually, you find yourself squinting, unsure if your mind is playing tricks on you or if something, or someone, is moving within it.

Before you can decide, you hear it: a low hum, resonating in your chest like the strum of a string on a rather angelic instrument. The sound is faint, but it pulls at you, compelling you to rise. Against your better judgment, you lift yourself up by your elbows, staring at the mist as it.. contorts into something.

You should turn back, shouldn’t you?

But you don’t.

A soft, distant voice cuts through the silence surrounding you, faint and trembling, as though carried by the wind. At first, you can’t make out the words, but as you lean closer, they grow clearer:

“She’ll come for you.”

The voice isn’t Jinx’s, but it echoes with the same determination, the same desperation. Your breath catches in your throat as you shake your head with a bitter laugh, trying to push the voice away, but it clings to you like a shadow.

“No,” you whisper to yourself.

“She can’t. She won’t.”

But the voice is unrelenting, whispering again and again until it drowns out your thoughts entirely:

“She’ll come for you. She always will.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and slowly, you find yourself laying back down on your side, fluttering your eyes closed as you try to make yourself think of something else — ANYTHING ELSE besides this.

And suddenly, your mind wanders the meeting you had last night:

The evening air hung heavy with a solemn stillness, the kind that pressed against your chest and made every breath feel like a burden.

Nevertheless, you sat alone on the cliff’s edge, the ocean sprawling endlessly before you, its waves gently lapping at the rocks far below. The twilight sky melted into soft hues of lavender and rose, but the beauty of the scene was lost on you. It did not matter, you know. You… you really are a monster, you didn’t deserve to enjoy such beautiful moments.

Your hands trembled as they clutched your knees. Your thoughts churned endlessly, circling back to Jinx—her words, her defiance, and the way she just STARED at you after she’d slapped you.

And just as you were thinking of the incident, the faintest whisper of wind brushed past you, some sort of.. odd feeling of a being you couldn’t describe. However, you didn’t need to turn to know who it was; the soothing hum of magic and the faint scent of jasmine told you everything.

“Janna,” you murmured, your voice soft and weary.

The goddess finally stepped into view, her ethereal form seeming to shimmer like sunlight caught in the folds of silk. Her translucent blue robes flowed as though stirred by an unseen breeze. She truly did look like a goddess in this form, much better than some of her others.

“Dear goddess,” Janna spoke, her voice a gentle melody carried by the wind.

“I’ve come to speak with you about the mortal.”

Your chest IMMEDIATELY tightened, your fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes.

“You mean Jinx?..” you whispered, barely audible.

Janna’s gaze softened as she stepped closer to you. Even with her calming presence, you still had the worst feeling pooling within your stomach as you continued to avert your gaze from her.

“Her presence here has caused… ripples. The other gods are restless. They believe her defiance threatens the balance of this island, and of you.”

You shook your head, sighing.

“She’s not a threat. She—she cares about me. She’s just…” Your voice faltered as you tried to explain, to defend Jinx, but the weight of your own guilt dragged the words down.

“She is bold and unyielding,” Janna interrupted gently, her tone neither condemning nor approving.

“And that is why the gods have decided she must leave. For the sake of the island. For your sake.”

Your heart dropped at those words.

“No,” you said, almost instinctively, your voice trembling.

“She doesn’t have to leave. I can handle this. I—I can fix this—”

“(____).” Janna’s voice was soft yet firm before she let out a soft sigh. She knelt beside you, placing a light hand on your shoulder.

“This isn’t about blame. It’s about what is best for you. For her.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at Janna, your lips trembling.

“I mean.. she already hates me,” you whispered.

“She’ll never forgive me if I send her away, though.”

Janna’s expression remained calm, her gaze filled with an ancient understanding.

“Perhaps. But she will live. And so will you.”

Your hands fell limp at her sides, your gaze dropping to the ground. The weight of Janna’s words settled over her like a storm cloud brewing at the distance of the horizon. And as you thought of the way her sharp edges had softened just for you. And yet…

And yet, your mind returns to your failures, your mistakes.

“I’ve done terrible things,” You whispered, your voice barely audible once again.

“Hurt people. Hurt her. She deserves better than this.” You swallowed hard, closing your eyes against the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

“Maybe… maybe the gods are right. Maybe she should leave. It’s for the best.”

Janna’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, as though searching for the truth in your words. Finally, the goddess rose from beside you, hands folded behind her back.

“The choice is yours, Dear Goddess. But know this: love is not something the gods take lightly. What you share with her is rare… precious. Do not cast it aside without understanding the weight of what you will lose.”

With that, Janna turned and began to fade into the soft hues of the twilight, her presence dispersing like mist on the wind.

You remained seated, your shoulders hunched as silent tears traced paths down your cheeks.

Jinx would be better off far from her, far from the island and its burdens, wouldn’t she?

And yet, as the stars began to dot the sky above, a small voice within you whispered that she was breaking something she could never truly repair.

A warm liquid trickles down your cheek.

As you reach up, you realize it's a tear.

Ah, you didn’t even realize it.

You let out a small bitter laugh, falling back down on your side before your shifted, now looking up at the midnight sky above you.

So beautiful..

But beauty cannot erase the pain that all of these actions have caused.

And so, now you find yourself slipping in and out of consciousness - eyes fluttering every once in a while.

It takes you a while, but slumber finally finds you, and you have one of the most terrible nights of rest ever.

Days, or maybe even weeks, pass in silence on the island once more much to Jinx’s displeasure. You’ve both done this so many times, it’s gotten annoying. But she cannot find you anywhere she looks as desperate as she tries, though remains stubbornly on the island, refusing to give up on you. To waste the time, she spends hours tinkering with gadgets or staring out at the ocean, muttering curses at the gods under her breath.

Then one evening, as the sun bleeds crimson into the horizon, you finally return. You’re quiet and pale, all of your happiness dulled, as though the island itself has leeched off of your energy.

And Jinx doesn’t waste a second upon seeing you enter the walk closer to her near the shore.

“Trinket.” She stands up, heart pounding as she approaches cautiously.

You avert your gaze from her, taking a shaky deep breath.

“You should’ve left.”

“Not gonna happen.” Jinx steps closer, her voice softening.

“You’re not alone anymore. I told you I’m not leaving.”

You shake your head, tears already welling in your eyes.

“Why do you keep fighting for me? I’m broken. I’ve ruined everything. Besides, if you stay here.. you’ll never be able to see the outside world again!”

Jinx stops just inches from her and cups your cheek—this time, her touch is gentle, her fingers lingering where they’d once struck you.

“You’re not broken, Angel. You’re just scared. Same as me.”

You look up, startled by the tenderness in Jinx’s voice.

“I said things I didn’t mean. I know messed up.” Jinx’s voice catches, something you might’ve not noticed if you weren’t paying so much attention to each of her words.

“But you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I’m not some lost cause, that I'm worth fighting for. So if you think I’m giving that up- giving you up? You’re dumber than you look.”

A tear slips down your cheek as you laugh faintly, a small smile gracing your lips.

“You always have a way with words, Pixie, don’t you?” Jinx grins at the small comment before chuckling herself.

“Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and let me fix this.”

You hesitate for a moment before falling into Jinx’s arms. For the first time in what feels like centuries, you let yourself believe, just a little, that you’re not alone anymore.

Jinx holds you impossibly close, feeling the weight of your trembling shoulders against her own. For a long moment, neither of you speak. The quiet is only broken by the rhythm of the waves against the shore nearby.

The last light of the sun bathes the two of you in hues of gold and crimson, as if the world itself were holding its breath for you both.

Jinx pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. She wipes away the tear on your cheek with her thumb, her hand lingering there for a second longer than necessary.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, trinket.” Her voice is quieter now, lacking its usual sharp edges that she spoke so casually with usually.

“You can try to push me away, yell at me, slap me if you want, but I’m staying here. Because I want to. Because you… mean something to me.”

Your lips part as though to say something, but no words come out. Your heart feels as though it’s caught in your throat, something warm pooling within your chest as you stare at her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jinx murmurs with a faint, nervous grin.

“Like I’m saying something stupid..”

You shake your head quickly, your hands gripping the front of Jinx’s top, as though afraid to let go - that if you did, she’d disappear.

“You’re not. You’re… you’re really not.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Jinx’s grin falters as she leans closer, searching your eyes for any trace of doubt.

“I don’t care what the gods say. I don’t care about whatever twisted plans they have for you. You’re mine, Angel. And I…” She hesitates for the first time, the words heavy on her tongue. She’s scared.

But..

“I love you.”

You freeze, your breath hitching while your eyes widen at the bluette’s words.

Jinx laughs nervously, rubbing the back of her neck.

“There. I said it. Now you can—”

“You love me?” You cut her off, your voice wavering as you say each syllable. Your expression is something more akin to joy.

Genuine and authentic joy.

Something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in so long.

Jinx smirks faintly at you.

“Yeah, I do. And don’t you dare make me say it again.”

You laugh through your tears, and you quickly cup Jinx’s face with both hands. And this time? Your touch is soft, steady, and filled with the tenderness as the words the woman before you had just spoken.

“You’re not the only one who’s afraid,” you admit, your own voice shaking. But neither of you seem to mind.

“Jinx… I love you too. I think I always have. From the moment you washed ashore, even with how weird that sounds.”

Jinx blinks, her breath catching at the words before her lips curl into a soft, genuine smile.

“Well, would you look at that? Guess we’re both messed up, huh?”

“I guess so.” You take a deep breath, grinning with delight.

Jinx chuckles softly as your hands slide to her shoulders, pulling her closer. Neither of you hesitates this time. And your lips meet in a kiss. It’s soft and tender, something you wish could last forever. The ocean wind seems to still for the moments as you both are too immersed within the kiss, hell— it feels like everything has just stopped entirely, and that it’s just the both of you here.

When you both finally pull back, Jinx grins, her forehead resting against your own.

“Took us long enough, didn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter how long it took. You’re here now.” You replied, gently booping her nose as you smile wider.

and she gets an.. idea.

“One more, then? I think my appetite has grown for more than just some food tonight.” Jinx smirks, pulling you closer to her by your hips

You find yourself giggling before you nod, capturing her lips in a kiss once more.

The gods watch in silence from their unseen perch, all coalesced together as they stare down at you both.

Who would’ve known that sheer love for one another could foil their plans?

“I think they’re quite cute together!” One exclaims, before quickly being nudged by another god

“Still. She’s meant to suffer, not find LOVE!” The god yelps, hands on their hips.

“What do we even do?” Another asks with a soft tone, fidgeting with their fingers.

Silence overpowers the perch before whispers begin to spread from all around, gods talking amongst themselves of what to do before one raises a hand, causing all of the ones around them immediately silence, listening to what the figure had to say.

“We sit and watch for now. If anything needs to happen, however..” They pause for a mere second before continuing.

“We’ll be sure to take care of it.”

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 94

Drowning by aparticularbandit

I’m Excited!~ 

Both because I just really like todays fic, and also because this is another piece that I’m particularly fond of both with the end result and the process of making it!

Let’s talk about the fic this time first! Spice it up a little!

Love this one! A lot! And if I’m not having a severe lapse in my memory this was actually my introduction to Bandits work! While I haven’t read all of it (yet), what I’ve managed to take in so far is truly lovely! Bandit consistently has a very strong way of putting words together, the inner monologues written for whatever character we happen to be following are so good! Go read!!

I mentioned Drowning quite a few days ago, as it inspired two of the pieces playing with the idea of Junkan’s dynamic when portrayed using the Alter Ego flavor of Junko. So it seemed pretty fucking obvious that when making a list of what fics to make fanart of in this section of the project, that Drowning would have to be one of the first ones I did.

I love the process of Mikan internally explaining how it felt to finally remember Junko after being forced to forget her in the Neo World Program. I think there’s still intricacies to the wording that I’ve yet to pick up on, but it’s such a fun and readable description of how that feels! I love it! And the fun little anecdote about the two watching Horror Movies together is so fucking pleasant just as an aside. Love that.

I really like Monokuma’s implementation here, short as his tenure in the text is. He is just a silly little guy amidst this very serious oneshot and then Mikan says “Junko” and he isn’t fucking around anymore. I love it! The description of Blood in DR is also nice!~ Now the like, actual Junkan part of the Junkan fic though. It’s amazing!~

First off, Mikachin as a nickname is adorable. Second off, I’m not sure how to adequately articulate WHY i love the rest of this so much? Like I can say I really, really love the kiss scene, it drives me up a wall how good it is like god DAMN. But the rest? It’s just so fuckin well put together, pure artistry, excellent. And the end? Mikan “swimming”? Perfect, cinema even. Good work. God damn.

As for the art it’s actually both a cover, AND an adaptation. The combo.

When trying to figure out how to handle this I knew a few things. I wanted Monokuma, and I wanted the cave by the beach, since I love that fucking metaphor. After a lot of thought I decided to make it an adaptation of the scene where Mikan pets Monokuma. Albeit adding my own interpretation of things, which may have been misguided depending on your perspective. There’s a chance that when drawing Junko here I softened her up further than what might have been intended. That’s the one thing that usually happens whenever I read these Junkan Fics taking place in actual canon, it’s always a little bit hard for me to tell what the general intention with Junko is in terms of her feelings towards Mikan. Not by any fault of the author(s) of course, it’s more me trying to tell if it was actually intended to be a softer Junko who does care for Mikan, or if that’s my own biases clouding my interpretation of the text. 

I just really liked the visual of Junko watching over Mikan while she figures things out until they can be together again, like a ghost but less sad. Except it’s a little sad given y’know, it’s Alter Ego Junko and also this is in canon so Mikan’s gonna “die” relatively soon after this, but also they don’t need to know that. 

I really need to draw Monokuma more often. I definitely draw him a bit . . . cuter? With a much smaller body compared to the size of his head, usually at least. I do draw him more on model sometimes, kind of a random chance whether that happens. 

Lighting this fuckin pic was so enjoyable, like some of the most fun I’d had in a while. I don’t really remember why I did the glowing pool below them in place of a floor, beyond the motif of water, but i’m really glad I did. Junko? Amazingly fun to draw, I made the color palette a bit more muted this time around and I think duller colors really work for Junko, which is funny given how maxed out she normally is. Her hair, was so god damn fun to draw, oh my god. 

Fun fact! This pic was actually how I introduced myself to Bandit sometime earlier into the event, and they’re an absolute fuckin treat to talk to, very glad I worked up the confidence to do so. Definitely adds a bit more sentimental value to this art in specific!~ 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[cultivating-wildflowers]

“I’m a real man. If I pass a woman walking alone, I move out of the way so she doesn’t feel threatened.” I start driving away from my own destination if I end up taking too many of the same turns as the car in front of me. You’re not special. I alter my pace so I don’t look like I’m deliberately following someone whose car is parked near mine in the parking lot. It’s called anxiety.

[binders-and-beanies]

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