yearofcreation2023

[yearofcreation2023]

Year of Small Joys 12 - A quiet night in

Long overdue finish to the Small Joys series for @yearofcreation2023

Nothing much. Just a quiet night in with Joel.

Home.

It wasn't a word you ever thought you'd use again. Not since the world fell apart.

Yet here you were, under a dry roof, in a warm bed, at the outskirts of a bustling town. A real town, not the hellscape of a militarized QZ. No curfews. No arbitrary restrictions. Just... community.

And there were books here. Salvaged from old libraries, brought in off and on by patrols, sometimes donated by folks who came from Outside. Your hand hovered over a page, ready to turn it, but a soft snore from next to you made you pause.

That was another bit of strangeness. You and Joel both had been pushing people away for so long, although for different reasons. But now... now...

He'd come over bringing dinner. Found you in your room. It was rainy, you'd told him, and you had gone to bed early. "Gotta eat somethin'," he'd said in a quiet drawl, dragged over the tray table from the living room.

The one he'd made you.

Slowly but surely you'd wormed your way into each other's lives, and now here he was, having cleaned up your dishes, fallen asleep on top of the covers, gentleman-like, while you read a book under them.

No pressure to be anything but yourself. No fuss to entertain. Just two people existing quietly in each other's company.

You glanced back down at the page. This was as good a stopping point as any. Slotting a scrap of paper between the pages, a makeshift bookmark, you set your book off to the side. It could wait until morning.

And you figured if Joel didn't come home, Ellie already knew where he was.

With a soft smile, feeling more at peace than you had in a long time, you turned off the light.

[yearofcreation2023]

Lord of Desire

Maxwell Lord x Fat F!Reader

Rating: M

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: He reaches out to the woven spell where he can sense the Dreamstone’s magic and tries to take control back. But now, now, he can finally feel your rising desire coming into play and changing the direction of the magic. It’s a tug of war between what the two of you want. It’s heady and dizzying and he can’t tell where one starts and the other stops. 

Warnings: dub-con with dream sex logic. unprotected piv sex. m!on screen and f!off screen masturbation.

A/N: This is the only planned smut scene in the fic, but our duo might surprise me, lol. Max is getting a little desperate here, in more ways than one.

The dream sex logic is a little tricky, so please let me know if I missed any warnings.

Thank you so much to @frannyzooey for your beta reading skills and amazing suggestions. As always, @covetyou thank you for your patience and support as you look over drafts so rough I'm surprised they didn't give you a splinter.

A part of @yearofcreation2023

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Previous - Masterlist - Next

Max stands by the open window, watching the people go by outside. Some are walking their dogs, while others rush through the parking lot with purposeful strides. The cars pull out and join others on the road. Birds chirp as they fly by. A squirrel darts to a nearby tree and disappears up the trunk into the branches.

It’s an endless stream of life outside, but here in your apartment it’s still. 

When you summoned him you’d been pouring a steaming cup of tea. The usual music channel was already playing on the TV and for a moment, as his senses came back to him, all he could do was stare as the fabric of your nightdress played hide and seek with your pretty dimpled thighs while you moved around the kitchen to prepare your drink. 

You’ve settled on the couch, tapping away at the phone that always seems to be in your hand, and there’s no sign of you preparing to start your day.

It’s never taken him this long to fulfill the terms of the Dreamstone’s contracts. 

Whenever he’s been summoned he’d been focused on the wisher, the magic a force urging him on to its own ends. His mind hasn't been fully his own in a long time, but with a single, simple question he feels awake. He feels human again and a part of him hates it, every time the worry and uncertainty rushes back when he materializes from the stone. 

“Are you Max Lord?”

From his periphery he sees your cat come into the room and jump up on the couch with you. The phone is immediately put down as you give your full attention to your pet.

The cat walks up the length of your body to settle on your chest, almost nose to nose with you, and starts purring loudly. You pet him and talk to him in a sweet voice.

“How’d you sleep? Hm? My handsome boy. My sweet baby.” 

A car door slams outside, the engine turns over, and another person sets off. Max can’t keep the words in even as he tries to adjust the tone. 

“Do you have plans for today?” 

“Hmm,” You let out a gusty sigh. “There’s laundry and cleaning of course. I need to go grocery shopping for the week and stop by the post office, but all that can wait.”

“Why?” He asks and hopes it comes across as curious instead of needling. 

“Because Harry came to me of his own free will and wants some attention. I can’t say no to that.” You chuckle when Harry stretches out his neck as you scratch under his chin. “Oh yea, that’s a good one.”

With just a slight turn of his head he takes in the way you’re staring at each other. The cat is looking back at you with equal attention, his body relaxed as he moves up and down with your breathing.

“There’s nothing I would rather be doing right now,” You stroke a thumb over his cheek, smoothing some fur back into place, and he leans into your touch. “Than being here with him like this.”

The frustration that’d been rising abruptly stops and sits heavy on his chest.

Max tries to imagine a morning like this for himself: slow and warm and full of affection. He can only remember the overwhelming stress and rushing to meet with the next potential investor or checking the stock market reports again and again to see if Black Gold would go under or if it would survive another day.

Would Alistair have liked a day like this with him? With no real demands of his time except their own whims? He knows what the answer would’ve been.

He hasn't felt this guilt in a while, but it knows where its home is, beneath his ribs and next to his heart. 

You take his silence as the end of the conversation and go back to making soft noises at the cat.

More and more, you’re treating him like a roommate and leaving him to his own devices while going about your daily life. You do it again later that day, leaving him in the living room after announcing you’re going to take a nap.

When your bedroom door clicks closed he allows his face to fall from its neutral expression, agitation deepening the lines around his mouth and eyes. He rubs a hand over his chin and looks down at the jewelry that he can no longer remove, the gold bands that are growing heavier every day as the hands of his watch chip away at the time left in this contract. 

The temptation of the wishes alone hasn’t worked like it has on others, but maybe you’ll fall for something else. 

Max settles into the arm chair with his hands linked over his stomach. The air is warm, blowing through the windows, as he clears his mind. 

He inhales deeply through his nose, focusing on the Dreamstone’s magic. It too is restless with disuse as it churns in the space between you. He follows the connection to your form, feels the same pulse echoing along your skin, and sinks into the sensation.

The magic guides him in planting the suggestion. It’s only moments before your unconscious mind accepts it and the dream sequence sweeps over both of you. 

He’d thought it would be something simple. A scene out of a dirty VHS that’d been passed around after late night business meetings. He would be the director, his voice whispering suggestions of how you could make all of it a reality with only two words. But as has become routine with you: your subconscious takes the magic’s suggestion and shapes it into something else. 

Something he didn’t intend at all. 

The apartment drops away, leaving only your glowing form at the center of a dark void. You’re spread out on silk sheets, your body bare and relaxed.  

Between one blink and the next he’s become a part of the scene: the silk sheets cool on his bottom now that they’re under him and he’s just as naked as you are. He doesn’t know what he’s sitting up against, but it doesn’t matter as your warm skin presses him further down, your back to his chest you rely on him to support you.

He reaches out to the woven spell where he can sense the Dreamstone’s magic and tries to take control back, but your rising desire comes into play and changes the direction of his fantasy. It’s a tug of war between what the two of you want. It’s heady and dizzying and he can’t tell where one starts and the other stops. 

His body pinning you down into the mattress. Hands wandering, caressing, pressing, digging into giving flesh. He imagines his own scene, something that could leave you desperate enough to make a wish, but you take it over. 

You sigh and take his hands in yours, guiding them to your breasts. Their weight steadies his hands as they spill between his fingers. He can't hold all of you and it only drives the urge to keep moving and touch more.

He couldn’t stop the motions if he tried. Massaging and kneading at the warm skin that moves easily with his touch. Catching your nipples between his fingers and squeezing them gently. His exploration is rewarded with your gasp, with the arch of your back into his chest, and the way your hips rock back into him, nudging at his hardening cock.

Mouths exploring, opening wider and wider in the attempt to cover as much skin as possible. Lips and tongues and teeth marking everything in their path.

Max can’t remember the last time he was like this with a lover. He doesn't feel any tension in your body, and there’s no sign of you counting down the time until it’s been long enough to politely end the engagement. He feels at ease with himself as the pouch of his stomach rolls over when he leans forward to mouth at the tempting line of your neck. Your body is heavy against his, weighing him down in a way he can feel in his bones. There’s no room for anything else between your skin and his.

A rough grip at the nape of your neck, pushing you down into the sheets, and lifting your wide hips to meet his. Slipping and gliding along your sex, coating his dick in your desire. The sweet pressure in the first seconds of the initial stretch.

Fingers tangle together in a brief embrace as you take his hand bring it down, placing it between your legs. Instead of leaving him alone there, you caress the soft skin of your inner thigh, gripping it and holding yourself open for him, allowing his big hand room to cup your fat pussy and fill his palm completely. Pubic hair tickling him, you roll your hips, caught between his hand. his cock behind you, and his other hand still working your breast. He waits, framing your vulva with his pointer and pinky fingers and letting his middle fingers play, dipping and stroking but not delving deep enough to find your clit yet, just teasing the seam of your sex. The moan you let out is so close to his ear, the nuzzle at his jaw followed by a press of your lips. Your affection, your approval, makes his head swim even more. 

Lust traded back and forth between you with every thrust, building and building until it drowns out the pounding of your heartbeat and spills over. 

Max snaps back to his own body, jerking in the chair and panting to catch his breath. His body is tingling with an awareness he hasn’t felt in along time, and it’s all pooling in his lap, where an erection beats an echo of the same lustful suggestions he’d given you.

In your bedroom he can hear the creak of the bed as you shift and he chokes on his breath, groaning low when the quiet whir of a motor starts. You gasp and he can still hear the echo of that same sound ringing in his ears. 

He drags a hand over his face and into his hair, grabbing a fistful and clenching it in frustration. He gives you a wet dream and instead of coming to him to finish the job, you’re taking care it of yourself. You’re driving him insane. The next clench of his fist goes straight to his cock and he drops his hand. 

After that, it’s easy. God, it’s so damn easy for him to unzip his pants and take himself in hand. Already so worked up, it doesn't take much more than imagining that the feeling of his fist hitting his groin is your hips pushing back into him as he fucks you. The soft moans coming from your room spurs him on to a quick orgasm, and as the pleasure peaks and starts to ebb away he sighs. 

You come out of your room with loose limbs, rumpled clothing, and even messier hair. Just how hard did you press your head back into your pillows, as you sated the desire that had woken you from your sleep? He wants to witness it, to hear those quiet noises you’d made loud in his ears.

He holds himself still until you close the bathroom door behind you and then grabs the tissues from the coffee table. Cleaning up the mess he’d made between his legs, he tries not to think of how you’re doing the same thing.  

[yearofcreation2023]

Threefold: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

A/N: I am still working on my kiss prompts for @yearofcreation2023. Yeah yeah. I know we are well into 2024. But I am determined to finish these prompts. The prompt for this fic is "Kiss as a lie." This does not connect to any of my other Prospect fics, even though some terms may overlap. Enemies to reluctant allies. Reader is disabled and relies on body mods to assist her breathing. This one really got away from me. like 6K away from me.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injuries and medical procedures. Alcohol and drug consumption. Vomiting. Smut but nothing super graphic. Mentions of bodily fluids. This is not my usual Ezra. He is a shit in this one.

 “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t splatter your brains all over this bar.” You jam your thrower into the curls at Ezra’s nape. You watch him in the bleared bar mirror, watch the color drain from his face even as he smiles, starts to turn his head and you dig the barrel of the thrower in deeper, feel your finger tightening involuntarily, your need for vengeance vying with your need for satisfaction, for some sort of answer for what he did, finger curls slightly and releases again, Kevva knows you never expected to see him again, Kevva knows—something cold jams beneath the angle of your jaw and you snap back into the present. The bar mirror shows a slight girl with a halo of pale hair and thundercloud eyes, a small, freckled wisp.  “Put it down,” her voice is soft and steady, “I don’t want to hurt you but I will.”   “Well if this isn’t quite the predicament,” says Ezra, “How but you ease up on the trigger and we talk this out like civilized folk.”  “Your time for talk ended five stands ago,” Your eyes flick towards the bleary girl in the bar-back mirror, “I don’t know what he promised you, kid, but he’ll fuck you over the second it makes sense. You’re what, fifteen stands? When he ditches you on some no-name moon what’re you gonna do?” The barrel digs deeper into the flesh at your neck. Ezra says your name, not darlin or kitten or sweetheart or any of the slew of names he gave you down on The Green, but the one you told him, the one he murmured against the sweaty column of your throat while you arched beneath him, quivered around him, felt like a blessing from his lips as he spilled fever hot inside you.  “I did you wrong,” says Ezra, “You weren’t the first and you certainly weren’t the last, and, if I’m being honest, I did not think on you overmuch—“ The little girl in the warped mirror shakes her head--  “Ez--“ You feel the gun held against your throat tremble.  “But these past stands have not been kind,” says Ezra, “To either of us, I imagine.” His eyes flick up towards your reflection and you know exactly what he sees, and how could he not? Paired auto-breathers clipped to your collarbones, metal and plastic welded to meat in an a scarred seal, ports that can be used for a filter-hookup with the right adapters.  “So what? That’s the Fringe, isn’t it? That’s what you told me then—“  “How, exactly, do you imagine this plays out?” says Ezra, “You kill me, she kills you. Both of us dead here on the deck-plating and what’s the point of it? Revenge? Satisfaction?” You dig the barrel of your thrower into the meat at the nape of his neck, even as his girl shoves her weapon tighter against the angle of your jaw.  “Or let’s say I kill you,” Ezra purrs, and you become aware of a buzzing, like a neglected data pad with incoming message against your inner thigh, but that doesn’t make sense, data pad’s in your left breast pocket and he grins in the mirror, flick your eyes down and damned if he doesn’t have a laser scalpel pressed into the meat of your leg, blood corona already spreading, “Think you can make the shot before I clip your femoral artery? You didn’t crawl out of Bakhroma’s well to bleed out in this dive, did you?”  “Damn you, Ezra. You owe me. You left me to die down there.”  “I did indeed, and if you ease off the trigger for a tick, I can offer your recompense.You think it’s an accident? You and me nested into the same ring? Show her, Cee.”  “Ez, I don’t think-“  “Show her. And I’ll get us some drinks. I think a toast may be in order.”

“You know what we need to do, when we meet up with the others, right?” You cling to him despite the sticky heat of the tent, air thick and heady with the smell of sex, his come smeared between your bellies as you lay half atop him, head on his chest, his arm curled around your shoulder.  “I stay on one,” you say, yawning, drifting as he traces aimless patterns up and down your arm, “You switch to two. Give them the talk. You fake a comms error and go for your channel box. You take the big one and I pick off the leader. The one with the red. Then we get,  we get out of here.” He squeezes you tight as sleep takes you, his heart slow and steady beneath your ear.

 Cee sighs, rolls her eyes, pulls her thrower off your throat.  “Fine,” she says, and reaches for a bag slung at her side. 

 Ezra hails his crew, and hiss of static on your ear when he switches to two, your thrower in hand, trained on the leader, brilliant red plast pauldron over his exosuit, waiting for the signal, for Ezra to go for his channel box, what is he waiting for? He looks animated, smiling through the fog of his helmet, this is wrong, you think, and he turns, thrower in hand and shoots and the world whites out for a tick, your leg collapses under you and when you lift your head there’s Ezra, tucking his thrower back into his holster, the press of his boot against your shoulder rolling you on your back from where you curled around yourself, broken nerves screeching around the path of cooked flesh just above your knee. You know what’s happened, but part of you can’t believe it—  “Help me!” You say, met by the hiss of an open channel, he grabs your trophy case and tosses it to his friend, the big man with the railer he was supposed to kill, leans in and reaches for you and for a moment you think this is all some mistake, something that can be made right and he wrenches your filter out of it’s clip, cuts the hose so it’s you and the dust laden atmosphere.  “Why?” You ask and know he won’t answer, makes a big pantomime of tapping his helmet and shaking his head. Your eyes scrim over with tears, the cooked nerves in your leg screaming a wordless anthem, “Please.” Ezra bows his head but still smiles, presses his gloved fingers to his helmet and  blows you a kiss , that’s the fringe, girl, even with comms cut you can make out the words, and then he turns away, walking off into the brush with his crew. 

 “Carom-burned pearl,” you say, mouth taking over while your brain runs wild, this gem is trash, sure, but the size— “So what?” You drop your thrower back to your hip without even thinking on it. Impossible to tell the quality with the membrane half-burned into the surface, but still—  “Don’t play stupid.” says Cee, “You were on The Green. You know what you’re lookin at.”  “I know that I am looking at a botched pull,” you say, “I’m also looking at a little girl who thinks she’s found a friend way out here in the ass-end of the Great Arm. Did he give this to you, spring-sprite? Spin you a tale of buried treasure? He promise you an even split—“  “60/40. My way. 16th per point garnishment to clear his debt,” she says, “Ezra works for me.”  You laugh, a real one deep from your belly and the intake fans, your intake fans whir faster to make up for the perceived oxygen debt, vibrations through your bones that you can’t seem to get used to even after all these stands,   “Oh, honey, I was gonna kill him, but now I don’t think I will. Think I’ll let you reap the consequences here. Me and Ez? We’re done.”  “It’s the Queen’s Lair,” says Ezra, and you stop cold, half-way up off of your stool, seep back down like your legs have forgotten themselves. “I know. I know you’ll never believe me, but we were there.”  “You just happened on it right? Just happened to drop right down in the place that every fool and their brother went hunting for on that Kevva-forsaken rock.”  “Not me,” says Ezra, “Cee’s father.”  “So why isn’t it him making the pitch?”  “He didn’t make it,” says Cee. And you nod. Spacer’s phrase for a constellation  of mishaps. A blown hull. A dust infection. An altercation in some shit station bar over points or pussy or any number of things. An invitation to not ask. “It wasn’t even really him that found it—“  “Cee—“  “My father was contracted to harvest for Karoclan. Group of mercs found the Lair by accident. Probably digging a shit-pit. We landed bad. By the time we made it to the site it was just me and Ezra, and things got complicated.”  “Complicated.”  “We had to fight our way out. We barely made the sling.”  “You couldn’t do the job,” you say, “And you know I can.”  “That’s not-“  “She never learned the trick and I was trying to cut the blisters weak-handed,” says Ezra, “That’s why we need you.”  “You went back there. Even after all you took from me. You could’ve gone somewhere better with your cut but you didn’t. You got addicted to the rush.”  “I did,” says Ezra.  “Me and Ezra and now you are the only people that know the Queen’s Lair is even real,” says Cee, “We go there, we get a good pull and we can live off it for years. Now that the line’s dead the value’s just gonna go up. We get the pearls and trickle them into the market—“  “How’re we gonna get there with the line dead? No one makes the BG sling anymore. They just route everything around Ikhar and—“  “Got a hot-jumper willing to take us for a cut.” Says Ezra, “We ride the line till just after the Ikhar sling and then unclip and burn. Gets us in orbit in 6 stand months.”  “Risky,” you say, tapping you index and middle fingers against your right breather, vibration passing from metal into bone, a nervous habit born out of a rerouted urge to scratch at the healing skin.  “Yeah. But if we do it right, if we play it smart, none of us will have to drop down some Kevva-shunned well for a hand of points ever again. We can have the lives that sharp-toothed bitch moon took from us.”  “Like you didn’t have a part in it—“ Ezra reaches across the sticky bar and folds your hand in his—

 He grabs you under the arms, woah there girlie, this is bad ground, yanks you back, so focused on the pull that you didn’t feel the ground shifting beneath you, grab your gear and hold it to your chest even as you’re pulled back from the rapidly forming sink-hole in the loamy dirt, draw your thrower and whirl on the stranger, your gear scattered all around your feet. Don’t fuckin touch me.  Is that anyway to talk to someone who just saved your life? What’re you doing out here all alone anyway?   who says I’m alone?  You got crew? Raise ‘em on coms. Yeah that’s what I thought. Gonna get killed out here all alone.

 “I had every part in it,” says Ezra. “The breath of your lungs, Cee’s only living kin, and the arm from my own body. All victim to my greed and stupidity and short-sightedness. I used you and I duped you and robbed you and left you to die and Kevva rightly and thoroughly kicked my ass for it. If not for Cee I would have breathed my last in that forsaken jungle-“ You yank your hand away as if burned.  “You do not touch me,” you say, “We are not friends, we are not lovers. That part is over. Forever. We clear?”  “Clear,” says Ezra, that infuriating little half-smile crawling up his cheek, “That mean you’re in?”  “Maybe.”

 Didn’t realize how loud those fans were gonna be.  Maybe you’d like me to suffocate about it.     Does she ever turn that player off?  Do you ever turn your breathers off?  Not the same.  To her it is.

 What’s with you and her? You aren’t kin. You said you cost her only kin. In that pretty speech you gave me so I wouldn’t shoot you.  That is a complicated and lengthy tale.  We’ve got time.

 “Ezra? I don’t like this.” Cee eyes the blue gel pack in her hand.  “Once the bolts release Jada’s gonna burn hard,” says Ezra, “She’s got mods to deal with the pain and sickness, but we don’t. If we don’t dope down, we’re gonna be in a world of hurt.”  “People’ve died,” you say, and Ezra shoots you a dark look that you give right back, “They go into shock sometimes. Don’t wanna risk that right?”  “It’s not addictive, if that’s what you’re worried about,” says Ezra, “We’ve got a sixteenth to take it and have it work. You go past that and it’s your choice, Little Bird.” Cee’s eyes flick from your face to his, and you wonder how you’ve slipped into caring for this girl, this orphan of Ezra’s making, how you became someone she’d look to in a place of indecision.   “I’ve never hot-jumped myself, but I was crew with a man who was on a prison transport that did,” you say, hoping the grain of truth in the story will be enough to get Cee to chomp down on that gel pack when the time comes. You heard the story second hand on over drinks on Leylan bench, but Cee doesn’t need to know that. “They didn’t bother doping down the prisoners. Guess they didn’t want to spend the points. Aggie said him and most of the others exploded from both ends. It wasn’t nice. Hallucinated on top of that if I remember right. Hot jump fucks with people.”  “Heard some of those tales myself,” says Ezra. “Jada’s a professional. She’s so modded up she can’t handle a drop down a well anymore. She wants her cut we’ve got to be her hands. It’s not in her interest to lead us wrong.”  “We got a sixteenth?”  “Yeah, but how bout we get ourselves secure and do it all together?”   “Okay,” says Cee. The three of your wordlessly prep, following the instructions Jada gave you on boarding. Wear something soft. No jewelry, nothing rigid. These, Jada had flicked a finger against Cee’s music player, are a no-go. The crash beds have plenty of give but I’ve seen people come out the other side with holes in em from fancy buttons on their pants. These gonna be a problem?  Jada eyed your breathers and poked at one with a questing finger. How long’ve you had em? Bout five stands. Should be fine then. Bone’s had time to remodel and deal with the extra mass. You’ll be sore though. You remove the ring your mother gave you before you left the well, remove the studs from your ears, don the softest clothes you have. Cee wears an over sized shirt with Puzo in his space suit, long, coltish legs and bare feet sticking out. Her toenails are painted an alarming sparkly green, and your heart squeezes a little. She may have shoved a thrower into your neck but she is still very much a little girl.   “We ready?”  “This is gonna taste bad isn’t it?”  “Most likely,” says Ezra, “We bite down on a three count, yeah?” Cee scrunches her face, tucks the gel pack into her cheek and you and Ezra do the same.  “Ready? One, two, three-“  “Oh that is nasty-“ says Cee. You crunch down and swallow the drug in a convulsive gulp, bitter medicinal taste beneath something that is supposed to taste like bananas. Not that you’ve ever seen or eaten one.  “That is just—wrong.” You feel sleep sucking at your bones, and you can hear the sound of the hot-jumper’s engine’s spooling up, a bright spike of anxiety tries to lodge itself in your chest, familiar whir of your breathers kicking up as your heart rate rises and then the drugs take you down. 

 Come to with a raging headache,  Ezra and Cee are already awake and at the controls.   “Here,” says Cee and tosses you a pack of stim-chews, “Just do one. It’ll kill the headache.” You crunch one, sickly fruit and bitter and you feel a little more alert, but not in a pleasant way, like remembering the last bits of a long and unpleasant dream, not sure exactly what happened, but there was blood and horror and pressure.  “Something happened—“  “That’s the drugs,” says Ezra, “Telemetry’s good. We’re right down the line. Five by. Took you a little longer to come out of it, that’s all.” You try to sit yourself up, and your pectoral muscles scream, your clavicles ache where the breathers are clipped to them. You must make some sound, because Ezra turns to look at you, those dark eyes locked on you and you want to slap that concerned face right off his skull—  “You okay?”  “Yeah. Gimme a minute. Jada said it would hurt.”   “Should’ve said something, Kitten, I would’ve gotten you a patch—“  “I’m not your kitten, and it’s not your business.”  “You’re right,” says Ezra, “it’s not my business. But we go hot in a sixteenth and I’ll need you sharp. You know what you need to do?”  “Do you?”  “How bout both of you shut up and focus on the drop,” says Cee, “You can fight it out once we’re clipped back in and bench-bound.”  “Fair enough, Little Bird,” says Ezra, “You take the conn, Cee. Your controls.”  “My controls,” echoes Cee.   “Where’s the pain?”   “Clavicles. Achy around the breathers. I don’t think anything’s fractured-“  “Here,” says Ezra. He hands you two pain patches. “Peel these and I’ll stick em.”   “Fine.” You open one patch and then the other, stick them to your fingertips and hold up your hand for Ezra to take them. Scoop your hair out of the way and Ezra smooths the gel-patch on to the join of your neck and shoulder.  “There you go. Let’s get the other side.” His hand lingers, brief and warm and before you can tell him not to touch you he withdraws. “That should keep you creamy until we’re dirt-side. Don’t be shy about takin what you need from the kit. Need you steady downworld, we clear?”  “Clear.”

 This feels nothing like a normal drop, not the warning alarm and dull thump of bolts retracting. Going hot means a hand of solid fuel boosters will push you screaming towards the Green Moon, igniting as soon as the clips let go, push you away from the hot-jumper without slowing, vibration shaking the dropper in a sick two part resonance that hurts your ears and churns your stomach—  “Oi! chute status” Lock your eyes on the jittering screens.  “Bolts are go. Drogues are go. We’re go.” You flip up the toggle guards and hold your fingers above the switches. The thrusters fire and the dropper rocks, flipping itself so the engines face down, watch the numbers on your screen go green and listen for the callouts—  “Heat shield sep!—“  “Tracking?”  “We’re clear! Go for drogue deploy on your mark—“ The switches vibrate beneath your fingers, you feel the vibrations in your skull, in your bones, strange resonance in your ears that churns your stomach, crush your eyes shut so you don’t have to see the way the screens jitter in and out of focus.   “That’s atmo—“ says Cee.  “Blow the drogues in 3..2…1…mark—“ You flip the toggles and lurch forward hard into your harness, and then back into your crash-couch as the landing burn starts. “Where we at—?”  “Transonic,” you say, numbers blearing green on the scope, “we’re green.”  Hook a bag from where its stickied to your seat and wretch into it, smell of fake chocolate half-digested Bitz-Bars and jump drugs. Grav and spin enough to fuck your inner ears, and the engines burn hard,   “Landing gear deploy—“ calls Cee. There’s a hard thump and you’re down and stable but your roiled stomach and pounding skull and tight neck betray you and you dry heave while the others gear up.  “Gimme a minute,” you say, pressing your eyes closed, trying to get some sort of control over yourself, “Haven’t done much well-work since— since—,” heave helplessly over the bag but nothing comes up, there’s nothing too come up. Ezra rests his hand your arm.   “Hey. Look at me—“ You try to lift your head, and the world starts spinning again, too much time station-side, too much time in the gentle, predictable spin of bench-rings, your body’s forgotten the suck of the world on your bones, on your blood on your lungs  “Can’t,” you crush your eyes shut, welcome dark nulling out some of your screaming nerves.   “Okay,” says Ezra in the roiling dark, “Okay, Baby, I need you to breathe real deep through your nose for me.”  “Not your baby—“  “I know,” he says, “Deep breath. Through your nose. One, two, three--“  You breathe in, left over bitz bar chunks making their presence known, irritation followed by something numbing and cool and slightly spicy, you stomach calms but sweat breaks out all over your body--  “Is this even gonna work?” Cee glares, hands on hips, mostly suited.  “Finish kitting up and start scouting the perimeter,” says Ezra, “Stay on two unless I tell you different. We’ll be out shortly.” Cee narrows her eyes, but does what she’s told, seals her helmet and clips her filter and steps through the hatch, brief breeze of equalizing pressure, scrubbers kicking up to deal with the dust as do the fans clipped into you. When the seals cycle Ezra hands you a styrette.   “This’ll kill the nausea. Also you won’t be able to shit for a half-hand or so. It’s intramuscular”  “I’ve given myself hot-shots before,” you slide your pants down and jab the styrette into the meat of your thigh. Ezra’s eyes flick away.  “Cee’s funny about chemical help,” says Ezra, “Her father was an addict you see. He’d dope down and then stim awake and it scares her so-“

 “Let’s just suit up and do the job,” you say, baring your back to Ezra so you can don the compression garments that go under your suit. The suit’s a custom-job to accommodate your breathers, filter clipped into a hose split and spliced three ways, clean air for your breathers to pass on to your dust-scarred lungs, and another than clips in to your helmet. Settle your mic-rig over your ear.  “Channel two how read?”  “Channel two clear,” says Cee.  “Two clear,” says Ezra, odd doubling of his voice through your rig and through your helmet. And then the channel goes dead. Hollow thump of Ezra’s fishbowl pressed against yours.   “Can we do a suit check right quick?” His voice muffled by his helmet and yours, “I think i’ve got it, but I’d like—“  “Turn around.”  “Cee usually—“   “I’ve got it.” He turns his back to you and you lift the loose fabric off the back seal, two twist catches with hook and loop for the outer seal. You tighten the right side catch and smooth everything else into place.  “Thank you,” he says, “You need checks?”  “No, I’m green.”  “They’re still here—“ Cee’s voice loud and overdriven through your rig and Ezra bolts for the hatch. You shove yourself into the nacreous light, Bakhroma hanging above, it’s curve spanning the sky like a diseased rainbow, pulsing through thick clouds and the endless fall of dust.   “They’re dead, Birdie! Look! They’re just bones in suits. They can’t hurt us, okay?” You turn your back on them. Cee’s breath loud and ragged on two.  “Okay,” says Cee, “M’okay—I just”  “What the Kevva be-cursed fuck?” A plast box rises out of the tall grass, curled around in flowering vines inside and out, a skeleton inside seated on a small bench, glints of gold and bones stained a livid, unnatural pink.  “He got back in the box,” says Cee, “Why would he do that? He let us go and then he got back in the box.”  “Karoclan,” says Ezra, “An oblation I suppose.” Your neck prickles.   “Those folk are fuckin crazy,” You press the back of your hand to your helm and push away, palm out, a gesture to dispel bad luck, can’t rightly remember where you picked it up.  “Look,” says Cee,” standing in a bare, cracked circle of dirt, “This is where we boosted from. Must’ve baked out the soil.”  “Hey. Let’s get the pull. We can get all nostalgic once we boost.” Ezra gives you a dark look, but Cee, bounds past and into the trench.   “Ezra,” she says, her voice flat, even over coms. You and Ezra catch up to where she’s frozen, stone still, “He’s still here. Why is he still here? Why are they still here? It’s been almost a stand.” You push past Ezra and examine the sprawled and sagging suit, nudge the boxy helm with you boot, rotted breather hoses crumbling, dust floating up.  “Are you gonna get your shit together or not?” Cee flinches. Glares at you through her fishbowl. Ezra scowls.  “I hardly think—“  “I’m here to harvest,” you say, “And I will harvest, but I am not doing it alone unless you alter the split.”  “You’re out of line, Kitten,” says Ezra, “You seem to have forgotten who’s hired you on for this venture—“  “It’s okay,” says Cee, “I’m okay. Third time pays for all, right?”  “Third time pays for all,” says Ezra, “Clear.”  “So lets dig,” says Cee, “Fuck these guys, right?”  “Fuck ‘em.” you say, “We’re gonna get rich while these fellas feed the bugs for the next stand and change.”

 The kips that came before you exposed the leading edge of the deposit, oxidized crusts shimmering in Bakhroma’s murky light.   “They didn’t prime any of this?”  “They didn’t know to do so,” says Ezra. “That one over there—“ Ezra jerks his head towards a blood colored suit with faux gold adornments glimmering through a twisted clutch of creeper-vines, “Got himself acid burned for his troubles.”  “Dry breach.”  “Something like.” 

 This is no hurried dig, this is no quick pull and boost, Jada has her heart set on atmo-skimming around the outer moons before hooking back up. Trying to break some record. Ezra hovers at first, flitting around the perimeter you’ve established, light poles stabbed into the boggy ground, and then gets drawn in to the excitement of the pull, peering over your shoulders as you and Cee work. Cee is a quick study, follows your instructions to the letter, and between her hands and yours? The size and clarity is like nothing you’ve seen.  “This makes what we got last time around look like pea gravel,” you say.   “We’re going to have a weight issue,” says Ezra.  “Do we stop?” asks Cee.  “Absolutely not,” says Ezra, “We keep pulling and take the highest grade with us. And then we chem-burn what ever we leave behind.”  “That’s crazy!” says Cee.  “Think on it,” says Ezra, “We burn it behind us and no one else can get ahold of these gems ever again. Not at the size and quality we’re pulling.” You split the fibrous outer husk and Cee squeezes in the diffuser without being asked, and you feel yourself smile.  “The scarcity sets the price,” you say, “We’re the only folk who know about this deposit. No one will ever know we scorched it.”  “But all these pearls—“   “No one knows about them,” says Ezra, “Only us and Jada and she can’t ever drop down here herself. And some hot jumper hits a bench blatting about buried treasure on a world they can’t touch? Only ads to the mystique and rarity, and the points in our accounts.”  “Enough to get me into the Academy? You’re laughing,” she frowns at you, “why’re you laughing?”  “Because this is fuck you money,” you say, “We play this right you can probably buy yourself a station-ring or five somewhere in Central. This is do whatever we want forever kind of money if we keep our heads.”  “She’s right,” says Ezra, “We play the long game and there’ll be precious little we can’t do.”  “Still want to go to the Academy” says Cee, peeling the outer husk away just like you showed her and backing off so you can cut the carom blisters, but there is a tub full of the biggest pearls you’ve ever laid eyes on hardening in the fazer.  “And so you shall,” says Ezra.  “You do this one.”  “You sure?”  “You’ve been watching me excise blisters all cycle. Give it a go.” Cee turns the pinkish mass one way and then another, jaw clenched in fraught concentration, trying to grip without touching the blister, the trick is to slide the blade under and cut it free from beneath, go in at the wrong angle and the cillia react, defensive mechanism.   “What’re you gonna study at the academy?” You ask, and her face loosens up some, her hands do the work they’ve been trained in, pulls the inner husk tight and slides the blade under the blister.  “I’m thinking a botany/anthropology double major,” she says, flicks the blister into the weeds like she’s done it a million times before.  “Huh,” you say.  “Interesting combination, Birdie,” says Ezra. “What ties the two together?” Cee slices another blister and flicks it away, brief curl of steam where it sizzles in the grass.  “What doesn’t?” says Cee, “Why do people bring certain plants from one world to the next? You remember the orchard we saw on Verres? Someone planted those trees there. Don’t you wanna know who and why?”  “Guess so,” says Ezra, “It was a bit creepy seeing all those trees in lines. Verres being classed unihabited and all.”  “I’ve seen stuff like that too. Folks’ve been screwing around in The Great Arm for a long time-“  “Hey! Fazer!” Cee barks and you squeeze the fluid into the cut, watch the husk curl and shrink away.   “There she is,” says Ezra and the three of you look at Cee’s prize, held aloft in the murky daylight, Bakhroma’s ruddy arc taking up most of the sky.  “Not the best one we’ve pulled—“  “This one’s mine,” says Cee, snatches the squeeze and coats the pearl before tucking it into her suit pocket, slow smile creeping up her face, “This is my fuck you pearl. We make it out of here and I’ll use it as a paperweight if I get into the Academy.”

 “When you get into the Academy,” says Ezra, and Cee rolls her eyes, and you feel yourself smile a little. You like Cee.   “You should do one, Ezra,” says Cee, “You peel it down and I’ll hold it for you.”  “I don’t think—“  “Give it a go,” you say,  “Get yourself a fuck you pearl.”

 Ezra eyes the exposed deposit, an irregular honeycomb of aurelac pores, dirt darkened to mud, sprayed water from the onboard tanks to rinse away the caustic slime.   “In for a penny in for a pound,” he says, just loud enough for the mic rig to pick up and shoves his arm inside. His breath comes ragged over two.  “Ezra?”  “I’ve got it, birdie. It’s a big one,” he says, and Cee slices through the dirt flecked umbilicus. Ezra cradles his prize like a kitten then sets it on the tray. Cee gives it a good rinse like she’s been trained to, pinches the outer husk and rolls it between her gloved fingers, loosening it up from the inner husk so Ezra can cut.   “It’s thick,” says Cee, “You got wiggle room. We got time. It’s not like before.” Ezra’s breath steadies and he cuts, splitting the fibrous husk, slow, careful movements, beads of sweat popping out on his brow.  Cee peels the husk away, like taking off a sock and you douse everything with the diffuser. Ezra primes the blade, waits for it hit the right setting and then freezes, sharp edge glinting in the ugly light as his hand shakes. Cee wraps her hand around his wrist.   “You’ve got this.”  “Okie. Yeah. Let’s give her a go. Third time pays for all, right?”  “Third time pays for all.”

 One half-stand later…

 Pain is the first thing, deep, sprained ache in your chest, thirst is second, thirst and taste in your mouth and nose like burnt rubber, third is a warm hand holding yours. Squeeze your fingers around a warm palm, around a plastic handle with a button on top that you press and then there’s no more ache, no more thirst, no more light shining blood ugly through your closed lids.

 Later. You come back to yourself. The pain is less and the thirst is more. Slit your eyes and cram them shut, dark blob leaning over you haloed in screaming light, the hand holding yours lets go.  oh, shit, let me douse the lights.  And the bloodshine through your eyelids stops. Blink the tears out, and Ezra’s face resolves out of the dark his face pinched with worry.  “Oh Kevva, I’m dead.” His eyes go big and then he brays laughter.   “Fraid not, Kitten. Might not feel like it right now but the head nurse assured me that you’re healing well.”  You close your eyes, and press the button that will kill the pain.   “Why’re you here?”  “Cee was worried. She keeps tabs on both of us. She couldn’t make it herself, she’s up to her eyeballs in her new school, she tested in and—“ Sleep is calling, the ache in your chest dying to a low hum.  Why’re you really here? not sure if you say it or think it, and the drugs call you down before you can figure it out.

 thirsty.  “Can you sit? I’ve got you.” His arm curls warm around your back and tilts you up, plastic straw pressed against your lip and you drink deep, frigid water against your raw throat.  “Slow sips,” says Ezra, “Don’t want to shock your stomach.” One arm holds you up, a hand offers you a cool drink. You blink your eyes open, confusion  and cool water against your dry  tongue wake you some, close your lips around the straw and drink deep before Ezra snatches it back, plastic bottle gripped in an intricately articulated prosthetic hand, burnished metal plating like the scales on a snake's belly, telltales and indicators winking, etched over with decorative grooves, circles and curves. Looks a bit like a nav map.   “Slow,” he says. You narrow your eyes at him and swish the water around your mouth, trying to wash the dryness, the foul taste away before swallowing.   “You didn’t go for a regrow?” Your voice sounds lower than usual, ratchety. Ezra shakes his head.  “Too much nerve damage for that,” he says, “Scarring and time passed.” You reach for the bottle and he puts it in your hand  “Slow,”  you say before he can, “I know. Ezra, why are you here? You got your new arm, I got my breathers out and Cee’s got her schooling. We got the agreement set. Third time pays for all, so why are you here?”   “Cause I did you dirtier than that cache of pearls could ever pay for,” says Ezra, “And you shouldn’t be all on your own right now.”   You want to say something back, but you’re so tired, even the act of speaking has made you tired right down to your bones, chest and throat screaming in protest, and your eyes scrim over with tears. One escapes and Ezra strokes it aside with the pad of his thumb.    “I pushed the call button, Kitten, they’ll be here soon.”  “Not your fuckin Kitten,” you say as Ezra folds your hand warm in his, “Not your friend.”  “I know.”  i know.     

[yearofcreation2023]

November: Mourning Moon

A Conversations with Dead People Companion

This one probably does require reading the original fic; you can find it here

FRANKIE MORALES X F!READER with Holly

W/C 1400ish

WARNING: angsty, dead wife, ghost, that's about it.

A/N Welcome to my very late November installment for @yearofcreation2023 (a fantastic notion by @oonajaeadira.)

Frankie climbs the steps of the 400-year-old cemetery, this time with his daughter, Julieta. Snow has been falling for a good twenty minutes, and last night's snow crunches underfoot. It’s not unheard of to have snow in November in the Northeast, even if it’s becoming more rare. It’s been a little more than a year since Frankie’s first visit with Holly. It only takes a moment before she falls into silent step with them. Slipping between them, as they seem to have left space for her, she takes each of their gloved hands in her bare ones.

“I'm so glad to see you, my loves.”

“Holly,” Frankie sighs. “Missed you, babe.”

“Mama!” 

“Oh jellybean, I'm so glad you came," Holly brings her daughter's hand to her cold cheek, then turns to her husband, “You came.”

“Yeah.”

“But not just to say hello.”

“Yeah,” Frankie looks at his wife, looking just as she did in life. This isn't going to be easy. “I've- I-”

Holly smiles, right up to her eyes -

“You've met someone.”

Frankie just gives a tight smile, she always makes things easier, he should have remembered.  His eyes go bright, and he rubs his face with his free hand. 

“Darling, that's truly wonderful. You deserve it, Frankie. And you deserve a mama.”

“I only have one mama, but I like her,” Julieta says. 

as they reach the top of Burial Hill the wind kicks up, snow swirling unable to decide which way is down. They are alone, no dog walkers, no couples taking in the view. It's beautiful but cold.

“We just wanted to tell you that. I don’t know, I couldn't just… not without your blessing.”

“You know my answer,” Holly says, giving Frankie a chilly kiss on the cheek, he shivers and smiles. “Tell me all about her.” 

Frankie tells Holly where you are from, what you do… how he feels when he's with you. Julieta shares stories of the first time you came to her soccer game, and how you make the best hot chocolate- with a quick apology, meaning no offense to Holly’s cocoa. To which Holly gifts them with the hearty laugh they love so well. 

“You aren't offending me, jellybean, it comes from a box!  But watch out, I hear the Swiss Miss gets migh-ty jealous!”

“We told her all about you. She wants to come and visit,” Julieta says, swinging Holly's arm as they walk and hold hands.

Holly looks at Frankie, then at Julieta-

“Me me? Or my -” Holly nods at the white gravestone a few paces away. 

“I told her I talk to you a lot, and about that time last fall…” 

“You did?”

“Yeah, and she wasn't weirded out at all. She doesn't expect you to come to her- make yourself um… known. She just wants to put a wreath on your grave, pay her respects.”

You sat in the little coffee place on the main street, mindlessly stirring your tea, watching the windows for Frankie and Julieta. The wreath you made of blue spruce, juniper berries, pine cones, and of course, holly, a wide white grosgrain ribbon tied in a single fluffy bow sits on the seat next to you. You don't expect to see Holly. No. But you figure she'll hear you… you thought about all the things you wanted to tell her, trying to imagine being at the receiving end of it. As if you are the one who lost her life, the love of her life, and the apple of her eye… you close your eyes, a small tear slips down. 

Are you being weird? Performative? 

Just then you see the two most important people to come into your life, saving you from spiraling.

They wave. Frankie gives Julieta some money and kisses her head, then comes to your table while his daughter goes to the counter. He kisses your forehead and sits, “Jules is ordering us a warm-up. It's freezing up the hill. The wind.”

You nod, and another sneaky tear rolls down.

“Hey,” Frankie's brows knit together, “are you- did something happen?”

Frankie looks around for the culprit. You huff a smile at his protectiveness. You found yourself a bulldog, complete with soft, sad brown eyes, who loves his belly rubbed.

“I'm just- it's an emotional day. I guess.”

“I guess it is,” Frankie nods.

After hot chocolate and coffee (and the cookie the size of Jules' face), everyone is warmed up and bundles up to climb back up the hill.

Holly keeps her distance this time, watching the three of you reach the crest of the hill. Frankie puts his hand on your lower back, guiding you on the snow-covered brick path toward Holly’s stone. Holly pines for that hand, warm and solid on the small of her back, just one more time. Pearly tears spill over. She isn't jealous, well, that's not true. Holly is envious of you; she's just not angry with you. She feels swindled, but not by you. You are again bringing joy to her husband and child, love and care that Holly can not provide anymore. She's grateful for you, just incredibly sad for herself. 

Holly pops over to the stone, their destination, and continues observing you. You have kind eyes, carrying a rueful smile. At least now it is, understandably, but Holly can see the shadow of crinkles around your eyes and laugh lines. You have a lovely wreath. If Holly had to picking one out of a million for herself, she would have chosen that one. 

You look at Jules and kiss her brown curls; they look at Frankie like you're looking for some help. He gives your hand a squeeze.

“It's a beautiful stone,” you murmur. Frankie puts a little rod, like a shepherd's hook, in the ground before it. Since it’s so early in the season, the ground isn't frozen hard despite the snow. Then, you hang the wreath on it. 

“Thank you for your family,” you say, and then cringe a little; Frankie kneels next to you, taking your hand in his. He nods.

“I'm…” you look at them with pleading eyes.

Julieta takes your other hand and introduces you. You kiss a thank you on her temple.

“I just wanted to come and give my respects, to um, tell you that I love your husband, and your kid here is a delight. By the photos all over the house, I can see she is the perfect combination of the two of you. I just wanted t-to assure you that they will be cared for, I hope nearly so well as when they were with you. Because, I can see your love everywhere in that house. The nursery room mural you painted full belly pregnant with Jules here, Frankie's shown me photos of your gardens. And the recipe book you put together b-before… everything, so Frankie could make all his and Julieta’s favorites. I can't replace you, of course, no one can. But I hope - well, I just-”

You look up at the white stone, your knees cold in the snow but your face hot, trying to find the words.

Holly moves to stand behind the headstone, looking down at your worried face, and puts out her hand. You blink. A graceful hand suddenly appears before her stone, right between the carved words wife and mother. Your eyes slowly follow the wrist, then arm, to the face of Holly Morales. 

After a small gasp, you take her outstretched hand and stand. Frankie and Jules slowly follow.

“Thank you for loving my family,” Holly says, placing her other hand over yours. You can feel the seeping cold through your glove, but you feel no reason to shiver. Her eyes are so full of love and gratitude and grace. “I am entrusting them in your care.”

“I do,” you say, “I mean, am, I will love and care for them with all my heart.”

“and let them care for you, and love you,” Holly so wisely adds.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes.

“I will.”

Holly looks at Jules, hand grazing her cheek. Her eyes travel to Frankie's, his tears falling freely. Unnoticed, the snow had stopped falling, and sunshine fought its way past the clouds.  Only noticed now when a shaft brightened the hill, causing a swirl of snow caught on the wind to sparkle like diamonds. And in that shimmer of snow and light, Holly is gone.

Frankie presses a kiss to your temple.

“She likes you.”

THANKS FOR READING! 💚

Year of Creation: the Wheel of the Year Masterlist

MAIN MASTERLIST

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[yearofcreation2023]

Year of Small Joys 11 - First snow of the year

580 words - belated November entry for @yearofcreation2023

NMS!Din notices you missing one of your favorite early signs of winter, and decides to do something about it.

For the third morning in a row, you were staring morosely out the window, as if you expected to see something and it wasn't there. He tried so hard not to pry, but something was worrying at you. As you sighed and spun to go get ready for work, Din set a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"Can you at least tell me what's wrong?"

The sentence finished even as he felt you jolt under his touch. You hadn't realized he was watching you. "Oh... it's... silly really." He tilted his head. Waited. "It's just... by this time of year it should have snowed already. Not a lot. But by this part of November we should at least have some."

He didn't have an answer to that. But as you got your things and rushed out the door, his eyes scanned toward the ice maker in your fridge. It would be a pain in the ass, and probably take all day, but maybe... if it put a smile on your face, it would be worth it.

Several rounds of ice later he realized he hadn't thought this through. Nor considered the limitations of your ice maker. He'd called Jed, who was wildly approving of the idea and hauled over a chest freezer he said was usually used to store meat, but he was between seasons so it was empty.

It was about half full with ice shavings. All hand shaved with his vibroblade.

Jed had, momentarily, suggested the food processor but it was a no-go. It made something more like slush than snow, and Din decided that simply wasn't good enough. You had specifically said snow. And he intended to deliver.

By the time you got home it was dark. It was below freezing. Jed and the freezer, therefore, were gone, the "snow" carefully placed in the backyard, with just a tiny amount balanced just above the door. Din set himself up in the yard to wait for you.

When you opened the door, the only one to greet you was Baxter, batting a stray ice cube all over the hardwood floor. You picked your way through the house, looking for Din. Noticed the back light was on. Frowning, you headed for the back door, confusion etched in your features. Hand on the doorknob, you opened. Something white drifted down in front of your face.

"What the-?"

The forecast had been clear. No chance of snow. At all. But there was Din, standing in a pile of it. He spread his arms wide. "So?"

You felt your jaw drop. "Din... how?"

"It wasn't easy."

You spun around in wonder. Pressed him for more. He told you the idea he'd started with. That Jed had helped.

"Din... you made snow for me!?" You dropped down into the pile of it, sifting it between your fingers. You could tell now, close up, that it was shaved ice, not snowflakes. But... "Shit you did this by hand? This must have taken all day!"

Never in a million years would you have dreamed of it. That this man had literally fallen from the sky to wind up in your life...

You started to say more, but Din wasn't looking at you anymore. He was looking up, expression filled with disbelief.

New flakes were falling.

Real ones.

You held back your laughter until he started, more and more snow falling from the sky. "I don't kriffing believe it. Nine hours and now it starts snowing."

[yearofcreation2023]

Here's To A New Year

Peggy Carter/Fem!Reader

Words: 1,492

Summary: Working the night shift on New Year's Eve isn't really that bad, especially not when it's Peggy you're spending time with.

flower and meaning: mistletoe || love, good luck, healing

Note: this is my december fic for the @yearofcreation2023! i know it's technically 2024, but it's been so fun to write things for this challenge, and i really pushed myself to finally complete the year's collection. this month's flower was mistletoe, and i wanted to play on the meanings of it without necessarily doing something that includes the act of a mistletoe kiss, and i had fun writing this :)

Year of Flowers Masterlist • Peggy Carter Masterlist

No one ever wanted to work the night shift on New Year’s Eve, and you completely understood why. You didn’t work for the police, so there weren’t drunken celebrations to keep track of or traffic safety to worry yourself with, and you didn’t usually have cases that required constant attention at this time of year. You would think that people might try to use the distraction of the holidays to make enacting their diabolical plans easier, but that (thankfully) didn’t happen often. At best, the new year’s eve night shift was spent finalizing case reports, filing a few last minute things, and staring at the clock as you listened for the cheerful shouts at midnight.

Holiday shifts like these were usually traded throughout the year in return for favors and secrets, or they were shouldered by the newest agents hired. There were usually a small group of agents who didn’t celebrate Christmas or Thanksgiving, so lately those shifts weren’t bartered back and forth, but this one always was.

You weren’t even supposed to be here in the first place, but Daniel had called you at the last minute and explained that Jenkins had called out sick, and he practically begged for you to fill in. And after negotiating about what you would get in return (which was the next three days off, all fully paid), you finally agreed. But you would have said yes anyway the moment you found out who you would be working with.

And you were pretty sure that Daniel knew that when he asked you.

Although you had never talked about your feelings out loud, you could never deny that you were fascinated with Peggy Carter. Of course the two of you had spent a lot of time together, and since she was the only other female agent in the office she was the one who showed you the ropes of the SSR (and of course, little tricks and ways to make the best of working in this particular situation). You moved out west when Daniel opened up the office in Los Angeles, and you were overjoyed when Peggy moved across the country to work here earlier this year.

You had watched her knock out assailants twice her size without as much as breaking a sweat, and on more than one occasion gotten a little distracted because you were staring at her from across the room. You desperately wanted to tell her how you felt, but a fear of what might happen if she didn’t return your amorous emotions held you back.

You knew that Daniel had probably figured things out about your little crush by now. You knew for sure that his wife had her suspicions, and you wouldn’t have put it past Violet to say something to her husband and try to get him to help you out a little. But you knew that your affections were usually pretty blatant, so you didn’t really blame them.

The door to the office opened and Peggy stepped back into the room, a bag of takeout in her hand and a look on her face you couldn’t quite read. “What’s it like out there?” you asked. This would mark your second new year on the west coast, but it was her first.

“The traffic isn’t as bad as New York this time of year, but it’s somehow still just as infuriating,” she said, returning to where she had been sitting before, which was the desk the two of you had been sharing for the evening.

You laughed. “I’d love to say that gets better, but I really can’t.”

You could see a smile start to form on her face. “It doesn’t in New York either.”

As the two of you unwrapped the food and began to eat, you were the one to break the comfortable silence. “Now that you’ve been here for a little bit, how do you like LA?”

“It’s different than I thought it would be, but I’m happy I moved out here,” she said. “What about you? Have you completely forgotten what it was like to live on the east coast at this point?”

You smiled, pausing before you answered her question. “There are good things and bad things,” you said. “I like the warmer weather, but everything’s too far apart here.”

“I definitely agree,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever driven as much as I have since I left New York.”

“I don’t know if I miss the subway though.”

She scoffed slightly. “I definitely don’t!”

As the conversation moved on to other topics, you could feel the atmosphere in the bullpen get brighter. And for the first time all night, you hadn’t looked at the clock in quite some time.

***

The three hour time difference between New York and LA meant that by the time you had finished eating, you were too late to tune into the more official celebrations (such as the ball dropping in Times Square), but you didn’t really mind.

The slightly tinny-sounding radio that resided in one of storage closets was soon brought out, and you couldn’t help the way your heart lifted as music filled the tiny room. There was nothing else to do, and the two of you would be stuck here for quite some time, so what was the harm in having a little fun? After listening for a little while, you began to dance, at first moving your head to the beat of the music but soon having fully gotten up from your seat.

If there was anyone else in the room besides Peggy, you wouldn’t have let loose so easily, and you certainly wouldn’t have asked her to dance, but you did.

“Oh, I’m not any good at that,” Peggy said. “I think I’d step on your toes.”

“I’m not any good at this either,” you said, holding your hand out. “But it’s New Year’s Eve, let’s have a little fun.”

You didn’t give up, and soon Peggy was gently holding your hand as the two of you twirled through the room. It was not graceful or picturesque by any means, as you almost crashed into the desks on multiple occasions, but it was fun, and that was all that mattered.

An upbeat song ended and a slower one took its place, you paused, but Peggy didn’t show any sign of wanting to sit back down. It was a bit awkward to shift your dance to a slower tempo, but eventually the two of you got there.

She was so much closer to you now, and you could see every detail on her face. To you, every hair out of its usual perfect place was a symbol of the way she had let loose a little bit tonight, and you wanted to bottle this moment just so that you could keep it forever.

You didn’t know who moved first, or when the eye contact got a little more intense, but soon the music from the radio had completely faded into the background. You and Peggy were the only two people in the entire world right now, and you didn’t think anything could make this better than it already was.

Until she leaned in, stopping right before her lips made contact with yours. “May I?” she whispered.

“Please,” was your breathy response, and you didn’t even have time to act embarrassed about your forwardness before she had closed the gap between you.

You had dreamed about kissing Peggy Carter before, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t, but this put every single fantasy you’ve ever had before to absolute shame. You always rolled your eyes when people talked about sparks flying between lovers, but in this moment you were ready to eat every single one of those words. She was utterly perfect, of course her kisses would be immeasurably wonderful as well.

When you finally had to pull away for air, you didn’t know what to say. “Happy new year,” was what came out of your mouth, and it definitely wasn’t your finest moment,.

Peggy looked slightly puzzled. “Is it midnight yet?”

You could not try to backtrack now, even if it was only (your head snapped towards where the clock was hanging) eleven thirty. “It’s midnight somewhere, right?”

Your (not-so) suave line did not have the intended effect. “I don’t know, wouldn’t time zones-”

As she spoke you took a risk, and instead of trying to figure out the right words to say, you just leaned in and kissed her again. Any worry you had about her not reciprocating melted away after the very first moment, because she returned every ounce of passion that you poured into the kiss.

Yeah, there were still quite a few things that needed to be figured out with her, but right now, you were more than happy to just relish in the happiness of the occasion.

All of that other stuff would be next year’s problem anyway.

- the end -

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[yearofcreation2023]

Preview: A light at the end of the tunnel

Ezra x ofc , ft Cee

Words: 3,140

December entry for Artes’s Year of Whump ( and fluff) @yearofcreation2023

Summary: As Ezra struggles post recovery, Cee plays cupid and finds his lost love.

Warnings: recovery, depression, loss of a limb

An: This is the official end of Arte’s Year of Whump. It was so fun, thank you yearofcreation! I know I missed some months, but glad I could close out December. I love this story so much, it’s open for later expansion. More notes at the end…

Preview below, read in full on A03 (account holders)

Sunlight peeked through the curtains, sending rays of light across the bedroom. This might be the first time he’s woken up before sunset in weeks.

His eyes settled on his new arm. It was still a strange feeling, having a robotic limb. But it did provide a small comfort as the loss of his arm, on top of everything else, sent him into the darkest place he’d been in years. Ezra told himself, he didn’t need a replacement, he would learn his way with one arm, and be just fine. He’s a man who weathered many storms. But he found his phantom arm haunted him. His mood, his self-esteem, and his sense of purpose all plummeted.

Ezra sat up with a groan and followed the scar on his torso with his eyes. Sometimes he could still feel that jab, sometimes he woke up in a sweat thinking it was happening all over again. He’s endured worse, he’s gone toe to toe with no hesitation with some of the meanest, more dangerous men and beasts one could face. Still, the events on the Green haunted him the most. Sometimes he could still hear that disturbing music in his ears.

Ezra died twice on that noxious moon; when he lost his arm, and when he was stabbed. But he was revived too. Cee, bless her heart, dragged back some version of him to civilization, a shell of him he didn’t recognize. The price of that job was the highest he’s ever paid; one he was still paying for now.

Ezra coughed as he rummaged the surface of the nearby table, then he found it, the recent letter from Cee.

Keep reading on A03

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A03: Artemiseamoon (u need an account to read my work)

@artemiseamoon-updates

More Ezra

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About this year long challenge:

Works from this challenge that have more to come:

1. Is this how it ends? Turned into a full fic, we are on chapter 4 or 5 now and it's ongoing.(TF, dark Santi, ofc)

2. Dial up the Jack, Dim the Whiskey will have a part two. (Agent Whiskey, ofc)

3. The thing about second chances will have a part two.

Stay tuned by subscribing to those fics.

[yearofcreation2023]

His Strength

Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word count- 3.8k

Dialogue prompt- “ hey! get away from them! “ and “ don’t worry about me; are YOU okay? “ Action prompt- [ SACRIFICE ]: sender sacrifices themselves, either fatally or otherwise, in order to save the receiver’s life.

Warnings-s.mut (18+ ONLY!), fwb to lovers, protective!Din, bounty hunter reader, injury, brief violence, brief torture scene (not super descriptive and no needles or anything like that), light angst, happy ending, mutual pining, feelings, no use of y/n, ambiguous on where in the timeline it is but razor crest lives

Notes- We made it, this is the last of my Year of Protectiveness @yearofcreation2023! I actually had a different idea at first, but after some personally tragedy, I wanted to write something a little more angtsy. Don't worry tho it's still a happy ending and no major character death! Thanks so much to those who have supported this year theme endeavor with me!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so feel free to follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date!

~

When you first partnered with a Mandalorian bounty hunter in the guild, you never expected how much it would change your life. What started as a one time alliance for convenience turned into a partnership built on mutual respect for the other. And everything changed even more the day Mando came to you asking for help with a child he had taken in. He had told you what happened, and how he made the decision to save the child instead, and it awoke something within you that day. Even as he rescued the child from the Client, you stayed by his side and as the two of you traveled the galaxy, you felt the dynamic shift between you two.

It changed the Mandalorian that day too. From under the armor, he had always respected you, but seeing you with the child made him feel something he had never felt before. He found that his gaze lingered on you when you weren’t looking, and he found himself wondering what life would be like if you and the child could stay with him forever… as a family. 

Neither of you were sure when it happened. You were just partners one moment, and the next, became something more. There was never a whisper of it spoken out loud, though, just both of you knew something shifted. Even if it was simply for release, it changed everything between you two. He even murmured his real name to you in the throws of passion- a gift you treasured and kept safe in your heart. 

*

Sweat lined your brow as you writhed beneath the Mandalorian. His low grunts echoed from under his helmet while you bit your lip to stifle your moans. Din, as always, never took anything off, only freed his cock. You stayed mostly covered as well, something you wondered if he did to keep things feeling leveled, as if he didn’t want to feel like he was overpowering you. Only your bottoms came off, and even then they stayed around your ankles.

It started fast, heated, and fiery. The first time you and Din slept together was quick, as if you were both concerned with the moment running away from you. He just pushed your pants down enough and took you against the wall. And even with the rush, it was still a more intimate connection you had ever felt in your life. You couldn’t tell at the time, but Din felt the same way.

Over time, it moved from the wall to Din’s bunk, and from hot and hurried to slow and sensual. Din at times handled you with sure care that you wondered if he thought you would break. The way he caressed every inch of you made your heart flutter in your chest as you looked at him with a glazed over expression. Neither of you were sure when exactly it happened, but something changed as the two of you came together time and time again.

You felt it with every thrust of his cock. Though you never saw his face, you felt the emotions behind his movements and his touch. You looked into the darkness of his vizor, locking eyes with him behind it. A louder moan escaped your lips as he rocked into you again, filling you to the brim.

“Din…” you murmured as you ran your hands across his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he groaned in a low tone that went right to your core.

You whimpered at the care that lined his voice. Moving before you could second guess yourself, you let go of his broad shoulders and reached down for your own top. You grabbed and pulled it over yourself in one swift movement, exposing more of your body to Din.

He paused as his helmet nodded up and down as he soaked in the sight of your bare chest, “You’re beautiful,” he groaned as his hands wandered across your breasts. 

Mirroring your action, Din surprised you by quickly removing his gloves so that he could touch your bare skin. Both of you gasped when his large hand cupped your jaw first, then trailed down to your breast. He remained inside you yet stayed still as both of you froze in the moment. Din’s thumb brushing across your nipple was the only movement save for the way both your chests expanded with your heavy breaths.

A whimper escaped your lips as Din caressed your breast, gently pinching your nipple as he fondled you. He worshiped your body with his touch and you could hear the heavy breaths from under his helmet. Heat rose between the two of you as he kneaded your breasts.

Din murmured your name as his hand trailed up your chest and along your arms until he took your hand in his. Leaning forward, Din pressed his forehead against yours as he covered your body with his own and resumed his thrusts.

This time, you couldn’t hold back your moans. Between the way he pounded into you and the emotions that came with the intimacy of the moment, you couldn’t help the way you cried out. Din’s cock hit spots deep inside you that you never felt before, and it brought tears to your eyes.

“Fuck… Din…”

“I know,” he groaned, “Me too…”

His hand clasped around yours as he sped up his thrusts, rocking into you with abandon. You arched your back into him as you squeezed his hand right back, and your eyes fluttered shut as you felt your climax quickly approach. 

“Din… I’m…” was all you could get out before your orgasm hit you. Your entire body trembled under his beskar-clad one as you came hard on his cock. Your cries echoed in the small space as you felt Din hit your sweet spot over and over again, making you feel a pleasure unlike anything you ever experienced before.

Din growled your name as his hips became more erratic until he too hit his peak. He dropped down onto his elbows, all while never letting go of your hand as he felt wave after wave of pleasure crash through him as he spilled himself deep inside you.

Heavy breaths filled the small space between your bodies as Din rode out your orgasms together. With one final deep thrust, Din groaned as he stilled himself for a moment until he pulled out of you completely. You let out a soft whine at the loss as you felt your body pulse from the aftershocks of your powerful climax.

He gave your hand one last squeeze before he finally let go, and Din immediately grabbed your shirt so that you could cover yourself.

Mumbling a hushed “thanks,” you maneuvered yourself in the tiny space to dress yourself, slipping your shirt on before shimmying your pants back up. Vaguely, you felt Din’s gaze on you as he helped you move around on the cot. For a moment, you didn’t dare look at him. The emotions were too overwhelming after what happened. Something changed in the air between you two, but neither of you were sure how to address it.

That was when you noticed his hand still lingered on your body, holding you tightly. “Din…” you started in a whisper.

But you were interrupted when a coo from a distance made you both look up. Grugu babbled happily as he made his way outward the bunk and climbed in, settling himself in between you two.

You smiled brightly as you finally looked at Din, “We didn’t wake him did we?” you asked in embarrassment.

“I hope not,” he replied with a soft laugh in his tone, “I’m sure it’s fine,” he reassured you. 

You couldn’t help but giggle as the little child made himself comfortable between the two of you. Faintly, you heard his laughter with yours and it made your heart soar.

Din tilted his head affectionately, “Rest now,” he cradled your face, “We all need some sleep.”

Swallowing hard, you nodded. Wiggling your way around where Grogu already made himself comfortable, you laid down on your side and exhaled deeply. Din did the same after you were settled and he placed himself so that he could wrap his arm around both you and the child, holding you both close, keeping you both safe.

“Goodnight,” you murmured before you drifted off. Surprisingly, it took you no time to fall asleep, perhaps because you were warm and comfortable… and safe.

The Mandalorian, however, laid awake for some time, just listening to you and Grugu sleep. Everything he could ever want in the galaxy was tucked safely in his arms, yet it all felt so far at the same time. He knew neither you nor the child were truly his, yet he felt like the three of you were already a family. If you only knew just how much you meant to him… 

*

“I have a bad feeling about this,” you mumbled.

Din glanced over at you, but said nothing. He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze before he stepped in front of you. 

The alleyway felt like it closed in around you. Dim lights led the way as you, Din and Grogu tracked the fob and the bustle of the city faded into the distance. It was quiet, but not calming. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something felt wrong, and everything in you screamed to turn around.

Din's presence anchored you, though, and you stayed at his side as you carefully made your way toward where the fob guided you. With each step, it beeped louder until you all turned down one last alley that led to a small shack.

“Careful,” Din hissed under his breath to you.

You and Din each hovered your hands over your weapons, ready to strike. Din scanned the area, and when he found no movement, he nodded to you and opened the door slowly. You held your breath as the two of you pointed your blasters into the small space, ready for anything. However, as you inched closer, you noticed that the target laid still. Scrunching your brows, you reached a hand out to check, and with a sigh you turned back to Din, “He’s already dead.”

Din let out a soft grunt. You were right- something was off about this. But, before he could even reply, an explosion knocked both of you off balance. He shouted your name as he instinctively tried to reach for you, but you were knocked too far away from him.

A yelp escaped your throat as you found yourself thrown against the nearby wall. You groaned as your body ached, but you forced yourself up onto your elbows. Grogu’s pram was pushed next to you, and through the smoke in the distance where the front wall used to be, you saw numerous shadows appear. Din laid on the ground on the other side of the space, groaning as he too pushed himself back up.

Acting quickly, you shot up to your feet and grabbed onto the pram, “Get out of here, Grogu,” you told him and you gathered your strength, “Get out of here and get help,” you strained as you pushed the pram as hard as you could, sending it hurling out the window and into the darkness. You watched it disappear for a moment before you turned to your companion, “Din,” you breathed.

He looked over at you, but before he could even say your name, another figure appeared behind you and knocked you unconscious. Din yelled, both in fear and in anger, and attacked the enemies with everything he had, fighting until he too found his world completely black.

*

You felt the pain before you opened your eyes; your entire body ached. Faintly, you heard voices and clamoring around you, and it took you several seconds to blink your eyes open. When you did, you found yourself in a brightly lit room with several men around you. Gasping, you tried to move, but you found yourself strapped down- your wrists were bound at your sides and your ankles were tied at the end of the table you currently laid on.

“You joined us just in time,” a sinister voice spoke.

Snapping your head in the direction of the voice, you saw a tall man with a rod in his hands. The rod sparked at the end, and you knew immediately what it was for. You spat a curse at him as you struggled to get out of your binds, but that only amused him.

“She’s feisty,” he commented, “I see why you keep her around, Mando,” he moved aside to reveal Din behind him, also bound but in a different way.

The Mandalorian was on his knees, his wrists cuffed together in front of him, and several men strained to keep him in place. His shoulders rose and fell with deep breaths, and you could hear the snarl in his breathing.

“Maybe now you can tell us where the child is,” the man continued as he stepped towards you, the rod pointing right at you.

“Get away from her!” Din shouted, “Let her go!”

He ignored him, the rod hovering just above your skin, “Let’s hear how pretty you are when you scream,” he hissed.

“No!” Din struggled in vain as he tried to break free.

The searing pain from the rod against your skin made you scream before you could fight it. Pulse after pulse of electricity shot through your entire body, and it was the worst pain you had ever felt in your life. Your eyes snapped shut as you tried to wriggle away, but it was no use. You were trapped, and there was nothing you or Din could do.

Your screams went right to Din’s chest, “Stop!” he shouted. Fueled by his rage at seeing you hurt, Din finally broke free of his captors and with a grunt, knocked them out. “It’s me you want. Leave her alone,” Din panted, “Don’t hurt her.”

Din smashed the binders that held his wrists together, shattering it, before he grabbed his small vibroblade that he kept hidden. The room turned into a frenzy as the other men attacked him, but he fought them off until he reached the leader, the one who hurt you.

Amused at the scene, the leader pulled out a blade of his own and countered Din's attack, “Is this… love, Mandalorian?” he asked as he parried Din's attack.

The Mandalorian just growled as rage consumed him. He went blade to blade with the leader a few times, but he soon made a mistake. Din glance over at you, still bound to the table with tears in your eyes. He hesitated for just a moment as the sight of you like that broke him, and that was when the leader stuck, stabbing Din right between the plates of his armor.

“Has a woman made you soft?” he teased in a low voice as he drove the blade deeper, "How sweet," he spat.

Your eyes went wide as your mouth opened to let out a scream, but nothing came out. Instead, all you could croak out was a hushed, "Din..."

Tears fell from your eyes as you wailed and thrashed in your binds, desperate to do something. Maniacal laughter filled the room as Din slumped down, the blade still in his body. You whimpered as you tried to fight through the pain that coursed through your body and free yourself, but it was no use. This was the end. And you didn’t even get to tell him…

Suddenly, the wall on the far side burst open in an explosion and dozens of Karga’s men flooded into the room. They fought off your captors in a heated fight. And through the flames and blaster fire, you saw the familiar outline of the child, who waddled over to you. It was the last thing you saw before you passed out from the pain. 

*

Din woke with a gasp. The last thing he remembered was getting stabbed, hearing you scream and then an explosion. He had no idea where he was, but he did notice that his hands weren’t bound anymore. And the pain had dulled to an ache in his side. But, more than his own injuries, he was more concerned with where you were. Thankfully for him, your voice was the next thing he heard.

“Din,” you gasped, “It’s alright, we’re ok,” you were right next to him.

Din laid back down with a groan as the pain suddenly intensified. But it didn’t matter, you were here, and you were ok. He whispered your name, “What happened?”

“Grogu found backup,” you sounded tired, “Karga and the others found us just in time.”

He groaned, “Grogu?! Where is he?”

“Shh,” you tried to calm him, knowing how much the kid meant to him, “He’s alright. He’s resting in the next room. It took a lot out of him… healing us…”

“Are you alright?” was his next question after a pause.

Your eyes went wide, “Don’t worry about me. Are you ok?”

Din cupped your face, “As long as you and the kid are alright…”

“Don’t say that,” tears filled your eyes before you could stop them. You let out a shaky breath before you added, “Din, you… You sacrificed yourself… For me…” your voice trembled. 

He groaned as he slowly pushed himself up to sit. You mumbled incoherent concerns as you helped him up, and once Din was upright, he found himself almost eye level with you due to the height of the cot. Din let out a heavy sigh as his heart skipped a beat in his chest at the way you looked at him. Though he hated to see tears in your eyes, he noticed the care and concern that highlighted your features.

“Din…” you breathed as he cupped your face once more.

As he gently cradled your face in his hand, Din murmured, “Keeping you and Grogu safe,” he hissed slightly from the pain, “Is all that matters to me. You two are all that matter to me.” Din spoke in a sincere voice.

Fresh tears filled your eyes, but not ones of sadness. You longed to hear him say those words, and now that you heard them, the emotions became overwhelming. “I care about you too, Din,” you whispered as you leaned into his touch, feeling his thumb brush across your cheek, “You and the kid… You’re my family. My everything.”

Din let out a deep breath, “I trust you,” his tone was soft, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.

He slid his hand up your face to rest over your eyes. Your mouth dropped open as a sigh escaped your lips, but you said nothing and made no attempt to move. You put yourself completely in his hands, knowing you were safe in them. But, you gasped when you heard the hiss of his helmet, and felt the gentle breath from Din’s own lips.

Din leaned in and tenderly placed his lips over yours, using his free hand to keep his helmet covering the rest of his face. You both moaned softly into each other as you savored the feeling of your lips together for the first time. The kiss was soft and sweet, yet it held all the emotions the two of you held close to your hearts. Now that everything was out in the open, though, you and Din both felt like you could share this vulnerability with each other.

You tilted your head to the side as you placed your hands on Din’s armored chest and parted your lips in a silent invitation. Din eagerly took it and deepened the kiss by darting his tongue past your lips. He groaned into you and pushed his chest more into your body as the taste of you sent a jolt of electricity through his veins. A tear of his own slid down his face as he memorized the taste of you and the feeling of your face against his.

As much as neither of you wanted to break away, you needed air. Reluctantly, you both parted at the same time, sharing the air that you both inhaled. Din carefully pulled his helmet down and covered your eyes, taking a moment to admire the subtle features of your face as you kept your eyes closed.

“Look at me,” he said gently.

You blinked your eyes open, and knew from the way he tilted his head to the side that he was admiring you. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you felt his eyes stare at you through the darkness of the visor. “Thank you,” you whispered, “For saving my life,” you slid your hand in his.

“You never have to thank me, mesh’la,” Din murmured as he squeezed your hand and moved his free one to cup the back of your head, “I’ll always protect you,” he continued in a low tone as he guided your head closer to his until your foreheads touched. Din knew his love for you and Grugu didn't make him weak, despite what the leader said. In fact, it made him stronger than ever, it drove him to fight harder to protect you both.

You let out another deep breath as your eyes closed and you cherished the moment. Being held by Din made you feel safe and warm, even with the cold armor he wore. You felt the warmth of his touch, the warmth of his love, even through the beskar. “Let’s go see our kid,” you broke the silence with a smile in your tone.

Din let out a soft, amused huff that told you he was smiling too, “Yeah,” he murmured, “Let’s get our family back together.” 

[yearofcreation2023]

Hum a Song

Summary: Soulmates can hear each other sing and hum, but Matt Murdock had never really thought twice about his soulmate. Until he hears the new tenant of the apartment building humming the same song his soulmate is.

Pairing: Matt Murdoc x GN!Reader 

Words: 1,679

Warnings: Christmas songs, fluff, slight worry

This is my December story for my Year of Creation: Soulmates! This challenge is being run by @yearofcreation2023, and you can find my masterlist for this challenge here!

A/N: And this is my last Soulmate AU of the year! I've loved this challenge, so much so that I'm doing something similar next year!! :D Keep an eye out for a new "Year of Challenge" starting in January 2024!

Feedback fuels me!

Matthew Murdock knew how to live his life blind. He had adjusted to it over time, trained for it. He depended on his hearing, it was how he lived, how he did all his work.

When he had started to hear his soulmate, Matt had literally stumbled over his own two feet for a week. Their singing and humming in his head was so strange, harder for him because he was blind. It felt like it was coming from every angle, from all around him.

It was something everyone heard, worldwide: their soulmate signing and humming in their head. Some people tried to “break” the system by humming one song as much as possible for their lives, until they met their soulmate. Other people hated the idea of being tied to one person, the idea of fate, so never sang, never hummed.

Matt was...one of the in-between. He hummed on occasion, and hoped someday he would be ready for his soulmate and find them, but...he needed his hearing to live and work, to be Daredevil. It was back and forth for him. His soulmate seemed like they were on the same page as him, or he assumed they were. Whoever they were, they hummed or sang on occasion, almost as if they weren’t worried about finding him right away, just living their life.

It was almost refreshing.

Foggy had asked Matt once what Matt would do, if he found his soulmate. Matt had replied with “I don’t know”, which was still true, over a year later. He had so many other things to worry about, someone he may never even meet wasn’t a priority.

Your friends had called you crazy, on many levels.

First, you were moving in December, less than two weeks before Christmas. Why anyone would do that was beyond them, but you had. Second, you had decided to move to Hell’s Kitchen of all places, which had made some of your friends panic beyond belief. Yes, it had a crime issue, a major one. But didn’t all of New York? At least Hell’s Kitchen had cheaper rent.

When you had told them that you had found over five apartments that were under your budget in Hell’s Kitchen, that were livable, and were larger than a studio, all of your friends had gone silent. With the money you were saving, you had already paid for and finished a self defense class. Plus, you had pointed out, your new apartment was closer to your new job, which was also in Hell’s Kitchen.

They hadn’t liked that either. Maybe your friends just thought all your decisions were bad. Were they bad friends if they did that? Probably. You would have the time and space to figure that out that though, it wasn’t like they would visit you in your new apartment.

Moving in a week and a half before Christmas was a little insane. Yes, you could acknowledge that. It was a weird time of year to move: cold for the movers, busy streets because of so many people taking trips, and just strange because it’s Christmas.

Getting the boxes and furniture into the new apartment was the hard part, but now that it was all in, you could relax, you could focus. There was a full week before you had to start your new job, so you had more than enough time to unpack and decorate for Christmas.

Putting on a record, you smiled softly as Christmas music filtered through the speakers. There was something special about Frank Sinatra singing Christmas songs, his voice just always just put you in the holiday mood.

Moving to the boxes labeled “Christmas”, you let yourself listen to Sinatra sing “White Christmas”.

Matt paused as he heard Christmas music start playing. No one in the complex really played music, and it was later than he had expected anyone to really be awake.

Someone new had moved into the complex a few days ago, and he hadn’t met them yet. He knew with his hearing music being heard was different for him than anyone else, and to everyone else in the complex they probably didn’t hear any music at all, but he could hear the scratch of the needle on the vinyl record.

Part of him smiled softly at the Christmas music, at the sultry tones of Sinatra. Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t the neighborhood for holidays, and Matt had to admit, it was refreshing to have someone like and enjoy Christmas.

He shifted his focus back to the papers around him, letting his fingers brush over the braille. More songs played, and he heard the record finish, whoever it was switching the side, and the music continuing. Two more songs played, and the next song “I'll Be Home For Christmas (If Only In My Dreams)” started, but then something happened than made Matt stop working.

His soulmate started humming.

You smiled as the next song started, sliding another ornament on the tree. There was always a soft spot in your heart for “I'll Be Home For Christmas (If Only In My Dreams)”, especially by Sinatra. The choir in the background made it softer, more gentle and aching for home and wishing for home.

As Sinatra sang, you hummed along, grabbing another ornament. You hoped your soulmate didn’t mind Christmas music; you would be singing and humming it a lot this season.

Matt hadn’t been able to really stop himself.

As soon as he had realized the humming of his soulmate perfectly matched up with the music that the new tenant in the complex was playing, he had moved to the fire escape closest to their apartment, doing his best not to be seen. As far as he could tell, he hadn’t been noticed at all.

Leaning against the brick wall, Matt let himself listen to them move around inside, the music still playing as they hummed along. It was disorienting, physically and mentally, to know that only a window really separated him from who he was meant to be with. How was he supposed to introduce himself? Knock on their window? Go around and knock on their door? Just say “I heard your music and heard you humming, I think you’re my soulmate”?

That seemed ridiculous.

But now that he was thinking it over, how else was he supposed to do it?

A week later, and Matt had what he would almost call a routine. He did what he normally did, lawyer by day, Daredevil by night.

But whenever he heard the humming or singing in his head, if he wasn’t busy, Matt made his way back to the building and just sat outside, listening to them and the music. Given that Christmas was in a week now, it was mostly Christmas music. For the first time in years, Matt actually found himself in the holiday spirit.

Tonight was a slow night. The snow covering the city means it was cold, and no one was out of their homes. He had gotten out of his suit after a few hours of boredom, and now he was just sitting on the roof, listening to them sing softly as they played music.

Unable to himself, Matt hummed softly along with the song he could hear. They were listening to “All I Want for Christmas is You”, one of his favorites after so long, after realizing his soulmate was so close.

You moved around your apartment, cleaning as music played. You had been humming along softly, just mindlessly tidying and unpacking the last few boxes.

Then a different, deeper humming entered your mind.

You froze, realizing it was your soulmate. They were humming, like they rarely did. They were humming the exact song you were listening to. Faltering in your own humming, you couldn’t believe it; they were real? And they were hearing you.

Catching yourself, you continued to hum, checking the hall and the fire escape, wondering where they were, if your soulmate was close.

Matt could hear them moving around, had heard them falter. They were looking for him, he knew that.

Did he want them to see him? Find him? There was so much danger surrounding him, always. But at the same time…

He did want them.

Smiling softly, Matt sang out loud, “I just want you here tonight, holding onto me so tight.”

You had opened one of windows, glancing out the fire escape, when you heard the voice in your head say at the same time as someone on the roof sing, “I just want you here tonight, holding onto me so tight.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you slowly climbed the metal fire escape. Stopping as you got to the roof, you saw a man sitting there, the singing in your head stopping.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello,” you responded. “Sorry, I just-”

“Heard me singing,” he interrupted. “I know.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, shifting on your feet. “Just like I’m assuming you heard me?”

He nodded, turning his face towards you. “I have been, yeah. I’m Matt.”

You smiled, sitting beside him. “Y/N. Merry Christmas.”

He smiled back. “Merry Christmas.”

-1 year later-

“Matt, where’s the-”

“Under the bed,” he called back from the table.

You smiled and shook your head, glancing at your boyfriend. “You don’t even know what I’m looking for.”

“The keys,” he replied, glancing up from his braille files.

“...shut up,” you muttered, moving to the bedroom.

He chuckled, standing as you moved to the bedroom. “I love you,” he called.

You rolled your eyes, finding the keys and moving back to him. “I love you too.” Kissing him gently, you muttered. “Need anything while I’m out?”

“Just you back soon,” he responded, pulling you in for another kiss. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“It’s only Christmas shopping,” you stated. “I’ll be fast, just a few more things.”

“I suppose I can be patient then. Hum a song or three while I wait.”

You smiled against his lips, whispering, “Perfect.”

Feedback fuels me!

I do not use a tag list anymore, due to tumblr's new posting system.

[yearofcreation2023]

hiii Lucy Gray anon, since our lovely Peeta took that prompt maybe "I don't really know how to dance..." || "It's never too late to learn" ?

of course, i love this prompt for her!! and since you were next on my list, here it is :) it went a little angstier than i had originally planned, i hope that's okay!

Moving Forward, Together

words: 888

summary: when your girlfriend wakes up in the middle of the night, you two have a conversation about her past, and she attempts to teach you a skill for the future.

flower and meaning: poppy || remembering the fallen of wars and armed conflicts - this is also going to fill my november prompt for the @yearofcreation2023

lucy gray baird masterlist || year of flowers masterlist

It took a while for Lucy Gray to open up about her experience in the Hunger Games, and you never pushed her to talk about things she didn’t want to. You couldn’t even imagine what experiencing that must have been like for her, but you could clearly see it continuing to affect her life, even as far away from Panem as you were right now, having taken the chance to run away together the first moment it came. 

On particularly rough days for her, you tried to help in any way you could, but you often felt powerless, especially when she woke up screaming in the middle of the night. You wept along with her most of the time, offering your comforting touch to her in any way she might want it. Sometimes she would even ask you to sing for her, though your voice was in no way as beautiful as hers. 

When Lucy Gray woke up crying this time, you immediately wrapped your arms around her and pulled her closer to you, placing soft kisses on her forehead and she shivered slightly from the sobs. “Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Usually, she would shake her head and that would be the end of the conversation, but you always wanted to make sure you gave her the chance if she wanted to continue. 

And it seemed that this time, she did want to talk. “I can’t stop seeing their faces,” she said, her voice shaking almost as much as her body was. “Jessup, Reaper, Lamina, Dill, Coral, Mizzen,” she said, rattling off the names of her fellow victims, those who were taken from their homes and their families and forced to publicly fight to their deaths in order to satiate the Capitol’s sadistic power fantasy.

Unsure of what to say, you only hugged her tighter, and she sucked in shaky breaths before continuing. “I don’t want to forget them, because that’s what the Capitol wants. But I can’t stop seeing them as if they were attacking me.” 

Tears began to slip down your face at her words, and even though you had never lived this particular trauma, you could understand her struggle. “It’s perfectly okay to want to forget the version of them you met in the arena,” you said gently. “No one blames you for that.” 

“I know, I just-” 

“Lucy Gray,” you said, cutting her off. “You are the strongest and bravest person I’ve ever met, and just the fact that you want to remember those who tried to kill you shows how compassionate and kind you are. You and I both know that their attitudes were a result of the brutal treatment and sick game the Capitol was playing, and I think that they would much rather us remember them as people who loved more than they hated.” 

She nodding, pulling away from you to get out of bed. “Can we talk about something else right now?” 

You could only imagine the toll this conversation must have taken on her, so you immediately nodded and reached out to take her hand. “Of course.” 

“Can you dance with me?” 

The new topic of conversation was not exactly unpleasant or unwelcome for you, but it also forced you to contend with something that you had never admitted before. “Oh,” you said softly, and she looked at you with a confused expression. “I don’t really know how to dance.” 

And it was true. You had met Lucy Gray in the middle of the woods, and although you knew that she and her family often performed at some of the dance halls in District 12, you had never been to one. All the time you spent with (before running away together) had been with the rest of the Coveys in the cabin or the lake, and in the middle of the woods as you rested on the soft patches of earth.

She looked shocked at your admission, but it wasn’t long before a smile began to spread across her face. “Well, it’s never too late to learn, if you’d like to,” she said, holding out a hand for you to take. 

When you took her hand and let you lead you through a (rather clumsy) waltz, it didn’t even matter that you felt completely out of your element. You could see some of the tension and worry evaporate from Lucy Gray’s face, and it was soon replaced with a look of concentration as she tried to explain to you both the steps of the waltz and then a simple line dance, which you were equally terrible at. Soon, the heavy atmosphere that had filled the room was gone, and the sound of bright laughter took its place. 

“You really are a terrible dancer!” she said, after you stepped on her foot for about the twelfth time. 

You laughed. “Am I the worst you’ve ever seen?”  

“Absolutely!” she shouted, leaning in to steal a kiss before bursting out into laughter. “But that’s okay, I still love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

The frightening memories and persistent troubles that Lucy Gray felt would never truly go away, you knew that. But you hoped that with moments like these, you would be able to help make them a little less haunting.  

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[yearofcreation2023]

Year of Themed Creations: December 2023 Collection (in progress)

WORDS:

Lost Pizza Delivery Guys by @captainsophiestark - Year of Olympians Percy’s cousin and friend on Sally’s side helps him celebrate his 21st birthday right. (Platonic!Percy Jackson x Reader)

Hum a Song by @never--doubt - Year of Soulmates Soulmates can hear each other sing and hum, but Matt Murdock had never really thought twice about his soulmate. Until he hears the new tenant of the apartment building humming the same song his soulmate is. (Matt Murdoc x GN!Reader )

His Strength by @flightlessangelwings - Year of Protectiveness Dialogue prompt- “ hey! get away from them! “ and “ don’t worry about me; are YOU okay? “ Action prompt- [ SACRIFICE ]: sender sacrifices themselves, either fatally or otherwise, in order to save the receiver’s life. (Din Djarin x fem!reader)

A Light at the End of the Tunnel by @artemiseamoon - Year of Whump As Ezra struggles post recovery, Cee plays cupid and finds his lost love. (Ezra x ofc , ft Cee)

Here's to a New Year by @ghostofskywalker - Year of Flowers Working the night shift on New Year's Eve isn't really that bad, especially not when it's Peggy you're spending time with. (Peggy Carter/Fem!Reader)

A Quiet Night In by @keldabe-kriff - Year of Small Joys Nothing much. Just a quiet night in with Joel. (Joel Miller x reader)

[yearofcreation2023]

Lost Pizza Delivery Guys

Platonic!Percy Jackson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023​! It features a ton of other awesome creators and runs all year, so go check it out!

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Prompt: Dionysus; Wine, Cups, Dolphins, and Goats

Summary: Percy's cousin and friend on Sally's side helps him celebrate his 21st birthday right.

Word Count: 1,843

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"IDs, please."

I grinned and nudged my cousin excitedly as he pulled out his driver's license and handed it to the bouncer before us. Tonight was his 21st birthday, and this officially marked the first time he got to use his card to get in somewhere.

"Okay, go ahead," said the bouncer, passing our IDs back before stepping aside. "And happy birthday."

"Thanks," said Percy with a smile and a nod as we headed into the bar. I beamed at him, dropping my hands onto his shoulders and jumping up and down a little.

"Welcome to adulthood, Perce! First round's on me, but you put in the order."

"Alright," said Percy, laughing a little at my antics but heading over to the bar with a smile anyway.

After a full-family day of celebrating Percy's 21st birthday, I'd asked for the honor of taking him to his first bar. He'd been all in, and I'd brought him to my favorite place in the city.

Despite being close cousins if you looked at a family tree, I hadn't gotten to be a part of Percy's life until the very end of his high school career. I'd been separate from the family I shared with him and Sally, escaping a bad situation when I was young without looking back. Once I'd gotten to college in New York, however, and knew I had family in the area, I decided to reach out and see if it would be worth reconnecting. And it had turned out to be the best decision I could've made.

My Aunt Sally was absolutely incredible, that went without saying. The few memories I had of her from when I was young were the things that had made me want to reach out in the first place. But finding Percy, who was only a few years younger than me, was like getting the little brother I'd always wanted. Even a little later, when a monster almost took my head off when Percy and I were out getting lunch and I learned about all the Greek mythology stuff, I didn't have even a second of regret over having these people in my life.

Luckily for me, Sally's clear-sightedness ran in the family, so I wasn't completely out of the loop when things came up. And, even better, I could look around the bar and feel confident no monsters were about to interrupt me and my little cousin celebrating his 21st birthday.

"Alright, first a toast," I said, raising my glass towards Percy once we had our drinks. He lifted his, too, grinning at me as I continued. "To you, Percy Jackson, hero of AHS swim team, son of Sally Jackson, and the best cousin I could've ever hoped for."

We clinked glasses, Percy still absolutely beaming, and took the first sips of our drinks. The night had officially begun.

We stayed in the bar for a few hours, laughing and dancing to the live band and occasionally refilling our drinks. Finally though, with a little less than an hour and a half to go before midnight, we wandered outside, smiling like idiots with our arms around each other.

"That was fun," Percy decided as we nodded a goodnight to the bouncer.

"I'm glad. And remember what I told you about drinking lots of water."

"I will. Maybe it'll work even better for me since I'm a son of Poseidon."

"That would be sick."

"Yeah."

We both stood there for a moment, letting the cool night air wash over us, a serious relief for the end of the summer. Percy had planned to spend the last moments of his birthday at Camp, with his girlfriend Annabeth and his best friend Grover. I knew it was time for me to let him go, to get us each a cab and head our separate directions, but I still didn't quite want the night to end.

Apparently, Percy felt the same way. He turned to me, a mischievous grin on his face and a light in his eyes that definitely meant trouble.

"Do you want to come back to Camp with me?"

I laughed, smiling a little even as I shook my head. "Perce, you know as well as I do that I can't. I wish I could, but there's no way for me to get in."

"Actually... no one knows how he did it, but a really lost pizza delivery guy made it through one time."

"If no one knows how he did it, how am I supposed to replicate it?"

Percy shrugged. "I don't know. But it's possible."

I paused, debating with myself for a moment. Worse-case scenario, I couldn't get in and I had a much longer cab ride than necessary. Not ideal, but not the end of the world either. And best case, I'd finally get to see the famous Camp Half-Blood and hang out with Percy and his friends.

"Alright," I finally said, turning back to Percy with a smile. "Let's give it a shot."

"Cool. Then I'm sorry for this."

Before I could ask what he meant, Percy held out his hand and threw a golden coin I recognized as Olympian money onto the street. At the same time, he shouted something in what I guess was ancient Greek, and the pavement before us started to bubble. A moment later, a smoky gray taxi rose out of the ground, suddenly sitting and waiting just in front of where we stood on the curb.

"Whoa," I breathed, a smile making its way onto my face as the astonishment wore off. "That is so cool."

"Maybe wait until after the ride to decide if it's cool."

Despite that shady warning, I got into the cab when Percy opened the door and climbed in with me. In front of us across the driver's bench were three ancient old ladies. It took about thirty seconds for me to realize they only had one eye between them, at which point only love for Percy kept me sitting in the car.

The ride from the bar to Camp Half-Blood were a few of the worst moment of my life. It was terrifying from start to finish, and although the travel was incredibly fast, there was also a stretch of that time where I thought we'd never get out of the cab alive again.

After Percy convinced the drivers, apparently the Gray Sisters, to take me even though I was a mortal, and after they spat some poetry about Apollo meddling to help Percy as a favor in the near future (which Percy seemed less than thrilled about), the car finally came to a stop. I rushed to get out, making a beeline for some bushes in case the motion sickness was enough to make me throw up. Thankfully, it wasn't, and when I turned around the cab was gone, leaving me and Percy on a darkened stretch of road.

"That was the worst thing ever," I declared. Percy shrugged, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Fastest cab service in New York."

I just shook my head, closing my eyes and then immediately regretting it since my world was still spinning. When I opened my eyes again, Percy had moved past me to the edge of the forest.

"I figured we'd try to go in the back way, by the woods here," he explained. "We're pretty sure that's where the pizza guys come from."

"Would those be the monster-infested woods you've told me about?"

"Yup."

I sighed, long and heavy, letting the last of the adrenaline drain away. Then, I managed a smile at Percy.

"Alright. Let's do this."

Percy pulled out his sword as I followed him into the woods, incredibly tense and jumping at every single noise. I couldn't tell exactly where the barrier to Camp Half-Blood was, but I didn't run into any invisible barriers, and by some miracle we didn't run into any monsters. After a while of walking, finally, we came to a beach, and not far from us I could see two figures waiting.

Percy turned back to me with a grin as our feet reached the sand.

"We did it."

"Did we seriously? This is Camp?"

"Yeah. The cabins and everything else are another walk through the woods, but this is the Camp beach. Annabeth and Grover are up there."

"Hell yes," I said, grinning as I moved to walk next to Percy. "Lost pizza delivery guys have nothing on me."

Percy and I high-fived, and as soon as they noticed me, Annabeth and Grover threw their hands up in the air and waved me over.

"You made it!" cried Annabeth, pulling me in for a hug. "How did you make it?"

I shrugged as we pulled apart, then immediately turned to pull Grover in too.

"No idea. However the pizza delivery guys did it, I guess. Whatever it was, I'm glad I'm here."

"Me too," said Percy, slinging an arm around my shoulders. We shared a smile, and then I turned away to reach into my bag. I pulled out the last surprise I'd been saving and faced the group again with a massive grin, two wine bottles in-hand.

"Don't tell your camp director," I said, smirking a little to myself. Percy, Annabeth, and Grover made a perfect scale of worried (Grover) to cackling, laughing happy (Percy) with Annabeth in the middle. I passed one bottle to Percy, then opened the first bottle and poured us each a glass. "To Percy! Happy twenty-first to the greatest cousin and friend I ever could've asked for. I love you, and I can't wait to drag you on every ridiculous, non-lethal adventure I can think of, from now until forever. And you have the next year to prepare for how many times you're gonna hear Taylor Swift's 22 at your next birthday."

"Hear hear!"

"Cheers!"

"Can't wait!"

The four of us clinked our glasses, and a moment later (like it'd been planned, which it probably had) a literal pod of dolphins burst out of the water, dancing and swirling in the waves. Percy groaned next to me while Annabeth, Grover, and I laughed.

"Poseidon knows how to put on a show for a birthday," I said. Percy sighed and shook his head, then dropped into the sand. The rest of us followed right after him, leaning back in the sand and watching the ocean sparkle and stretch out before us. The four of us stayed out there long into the night, laughing and talking and drinking by the surf.

When we finally decided it was time to head to bed, the trio helped me sneak through the woods again and into the heart of Camp. I wandered around happily, taking in everything while Percy and I made a beeline for his cabin. I'd have to leave earlier than early tomorrow to keep us all out of trouble, but for just one night we could manage to get away with it.

A Half-Blood's life was full of crazy, and even though I wasn't one, I intended to be part of every single thing that I could be part of for Percy, Annabeth, and everyone else he cared about for the rest of his life.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

PJO Taglist: @valkyriepirate

[yearofcreation2023]

Go Bearcats

Luke Castellan x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023​! It features a ton of other awesome creators and runs all year, so go check it out!

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Prompt: Hermes; Travel, boarders, games

Summary: The summer before Percy Jackson came to Camp Half Blood, Luke Castellan's SO convinced him to leave camp with them for a new life.

Word Count: 1,175

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"I cannot believe you did that to me," I said, shaking my head in disgust with my boyfriend, Luke Castellan. He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed.

"I'm sorry. But it was the best way for me to win."

"Cheating isn't winning."

"Technically, choosing an object outside of the car that we left in the dust ten miles ago isn't cheating."

"You sound like Malcom," I huffed, crossing my arms and leaning back in my seat. Luke just chuckled, shooting me a grin from the driver's seat as we cruised along the highway. Luke and I had been in the car for almost three hours now, on the sixth day of our cross-country road trip from camp. For the first time in a very long time, we were leaving the place we'd called home and had never really been allowed to leave.

I'd gotten to Camp Half-Blood the year after Luke, although we were the same age, and with one exception that hadn't gone well, neither of us had left the camp's boarders since. Until now.

This past year, Luke and I had decided it was time for us to leave, to go do something with our lives now that we were both technically adults. Sitting day after day, month after month, within the boarders of Camp Half Blood wasn't sustainable for the rest of our lives, and I'd noticed it having a bad effect on Luke especially. So, we'd spent the last year preparing for and submitting applications to college, and by some miracle we'd both gotten into the same place. Annabeth, although she would only be starting sixth grade in the coming weeks, had helped us a lot, and about six days ago Luke and I had officially left camp with the end goal of Salem, Oregon in mind.

It hadn't been an easy road trip, especially since we couldn't use phones to help with navigation. But we'd managed alright. We were together, after all, and I swear with every mile we put between us and Camp Half-Blood Luke's spirits had lifted. Enough for him to tease me while cheating at I Spy.

"Alright, new game," I declared, sitting forward in my seat and looking at the scenery around us. "How about... twenty questions?"

"Sure," Luke said, still with a little laugh in his voice. As annoying as his cheating was, I couldn't ignore how happy I was to see him smiling so freely again.

"Alright... I've got something, go ahead."

Luke and I passed another hour that way, laughing as we thought up more and more ridiculous things to try to get the other to guess. After four years of knowing each other and dating for a year and a half of that, we knew each other well enough that truly stumping each other was basically impossible. After Luke successfully guessed that I was thinking of a bearcat, our new school's mascot (whatever the hell a bearcat was), he pointed up ahead of us instead of continuing the game.

"Look, we're officially crossing the boarder from Idaho to Oregon. Last one before we get to school."

"Home stretch," I said, smiling and reaching over the console in the middle of the car to take Luke's hand. "I'm glad we decided to do this."

"Me too."

A little glimpse of the storm clouds passed over his face, but unlike at camp, this time they cleared quickly. He shot me another smile as we drove over the state line and into Oregon. With more than two thousand miles in our rearview mirror, only about two hundred were left between us and the newest chapter in our lives.

"I hope Annabeth's going to be alright without us there," Luke said after moment's hesitation. We'd both been hesitant to completely leave her behind, but she'd assured us all summer that she wanted us to go.

"I'm sure she will be," I said. "Besides, we can Iris Message her all the time to keep in touch. It'll be like we never left."

"It's times like this that the no technology thing gets... frustrating."

"What?" I asked, feigning surprise and putting a hand to my heart to really sell the drama. "You're telling me you're not looking forward to taking only paper notes for college, and to figuring out how to turn in assignments without using a computer?"

"Believe it or not, no," said Luke with a little laugh. There was no question that the year ahead of us would be incredibly strange and full of challenges, but I knew we'd figure out a way through them, together. That's what all our training at camp had been for, after all. Although, the problem solving they'd been preparing us for had been a little more combat-based.

"Maybe Annabeth can come visit us for a break or something," I mused, kicking back in my seat and watching the trees fly past us on either side. I'd never been this far West before, and it looked incredibly different than anything I saw back home.

"Do you still want to visit camp over the winter break?" he asked. His voice was casual, but I thought I heard something else underneath his words, something a little more tense and brittle. "Go back for the Winter Solstice on Olympus?"

I paused, thinking my words over carefully and trying to gauge how Luke felt. Finally, tentatively, I responded.

"I don't know... If we're settled in here, and neither of us really wants to fly... I don't know if I'll want to leave our new lives after only four months being here."

Luke nodded, and I thought I saw his shoulders relax, just slightly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so too. We can decide later, of course, but... I think I want to stay here too."

I squeezed his hand lightly, and gave him a warm smile when he turned to look at me. He returned with a grin of his own, and after a moment of just enjoying the moment here, together, the two of us against the world, I leaned forward and cranked up the volume on the radio.

A little bit of luck must've followed us so far, because one of my absolute favorite songs was on, and I didn't hesitate to scream-sing the words at the top of my lungs. By the end of the day, Luke and I would be moving into a tiny apartment we'd found just on the edge of campus. In the morning, we'd gather materials and get ready to start our classes, and then the day after our new lives would begin. I had a feeling we probably wouldn't go back to our old lives, ever, even though Luke didn't seem to want to talk about permanently closing that door yet. But I didn't mind. The Olympians were overrated anyway, and I'd be happy to live like a normal college kid with the guy I loved, free from their influence and the problems they brought with them.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

Percy Jackson Taglist: @valkyriepirate

[yearofcreation2023]

Preview: The thing about second chances

Marcus Pike x Gabrielle (ofc)

Words: 5,789

💫Summary: 💫

About: When love wasn’t enough, Gabrielle made the decision to end her relationship with Marcus Pike. Two years later, now settled into her new city and life, she crosses paths with Marcus again.

Warnings: relationship issues, pressure, difficult conversations about the future, a breakup.

✨Part of Arte’s Year of Whump (plus fluff and comfort) ✨ @yearofcreation2023 ✨ November entry ✨

Below is a preview * read on A03

Gabrielle held it together until she reached one of his things. Pulling the grey t-shirt out of the pile, she ran the pads of her fingers over the soft cotton, before lifting it to her nose.

All at once, his comforting scent washed over her senses. Marcus's smell was grounding, warm with a touch of leather, yet fresh and clean.

Suddenly, standing took too much effort, leading Gabrielle to sit on the chair in the corner. With wet eyes, and clutching the shirt, she felt herself drifting off to memories. This living room was once inviting and comfortable, now it was full of boxes and stacks of things to be packed. All of them on a designated side of the room, labeled 'Gabi' or 'Marcus', just like the rest of the place.

Her eyes drifted to the space where the L-shaped couch used to be. Where they'd spend so many nights and weekends cuddled up binging their favorite shows. Where she'd fall asleep in his lap if they stayed up too late, and sometimes made love when passion was too high to take the short walk to the bedroom.

The buzzing of her phone pulled Gabrielle out of her of bittersweet memories. Blinking a few times, she reached over to the side table and checked her phone. It was a text from her brother, she replied with a quick response.

She made her way to the bedroom and lingered in the doorway, everything was mostly packed up now, minus the bed since she was still sleeping here until tomorrow. Memories of cuddling in bed, the mornings he’d walk in with breakfast on the tray and all the laughs and kisses they shared flooded her, making her smile while tearing at her heart even more.

Then one of their last memories in here, just a month before the breakup came barreling at her like a ton of bricks.

- Flashback-

After brushing her teeth, Gabrielle shut off the bathroom light and stepped into the bedroom. Marcus was sitting on the bed, shoulders tense, his brows together as worry filled his face.

“Sweetheart - “

“Marcus. I already feel like shit and don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

He waited for her to get in bed, then got in too, “I sprung it on you, I'm sorry. I just wanted you to think about it. Take your time.”

“You’re only making me feel more pressured, Marcus. I don't even know if I want to be married, I don't even know if I see that for myself.”

Read on A03

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@artemiseamoon-updates | A03: Artemiseamoon

[yearofcreation2023]

Right Where We Belong

Loki x gn!reader

Word count- 3.7k

Dialogue prompt- “ you underestimate how much you mean to me. i wasn’t about to let them hurt you. and i certainly wasn’t about to let them even consider killing you. “ Action prompt-[ SECRET ]: sender, having been secretly following the receiver, saves their life from an immediate threat while remaining hidden from the receiver.

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), protective!Loki, mutual pining, harassment, kidnapping, minor character death offscreen, feelings, romantic s.ex, praise, takes place mostly in a woodsy/forest area but I left it open as to where in the world it is, pet names (lovely, darling), no use of y/n

Notes- For my Year of Protectiveness @yearofcreation2023 . I've actually had a rough idea of this story in my head for about a year it just took some time to flesh it out and get it right. For that reason too, there's no series spoilers and is ambiguous as to where it fits on the timeline so you can imagine whenever.

This can be read as a prequel to In My Arms (Over and Over Again) but it can be read on its own. That fic is one of my pride and joys though so I recommend reading it after this one! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new stuff!

~

Midgard… Earth. It was the last place Loki ever expected to find himself, let alone willingly. Yet, it was the last place anyone would ever think to look for him. So it’s where he found himself when he wanted to be alone, unbothered by any pressures that surrounded him.

Loki had no idea where on the planet he was, but it didn’t matter. The trees of the forest surrounded him and created a shelter of peace where he would just breathe. The warmth of the sun hit his skin, and the fresh air from the trees filled his lungs. It was refreshing. It was peaceful. It was everything he needed.

But, as he made his way through the forest with his eyes closed, listening to the sound of the birds around him, another sound made his eyes shoot open. The roar of a large animal snapped any notion of peace out of Loki’s mind as he found himself nearly face to face with bared, sharp teeth. He wasn’t worried, though, and he smirked as he brandished his dagger in his hand.

Just as Loki was about to attack, however, a voice from behind him made him freeze.

“Wait!”

Loki paused.

The voice continued, “It’s not aggressive, not really,” you were calm as you spoke, “Keep eye contact and back away slowly and it’ll leave you alone. There’s no need to kill it.”

Loki pondered his options. He could easily kill the beast and be done with it. But, there was something about your voice that swayed him, so he did as you instructed. Slowly, he stepped back, putting more distance between himself and the wild animal until it stopped growling and turned away. As it did so, Loki let out a deep breath. 

You also let out a sigh of relief as the tall stranger with black hair got closer to you, “She’s just defending herself,” you explained, “Must be a den or a nest around here somewhere. I bet she just had babies too.”

A smirk lit up Loki’s face, “Would you give that benefit of a doubt to anyone?” he asked as he turned to face you, revealing his face to you.

You gasped as you brought your hands to your face, “You’re…” your body tensed as you clearly recognized who you found in the woods, “Loki…”

“Would you have said the same thing if you knew who I was?” Loki challenged, yet no malice was heard in his voice, “Would you grant me the same courtesy?”

Silence filled the air between the two of you for several moments, the tension palpable. But, you exhaled, releasing the tension in your body as you did so, “I guess I would be a hypocrite if I said no, huh?” you said, trying to ease the tension.

Somehow, it worked, and it made Loki let out a genuine laugh. Something he hadn’t done in so long, and if he had to admit, felt nice. “What is your name?” he asked.

You told him. 

“Lovely,” Loki said genuinely.

It all blossomed from there. You and Loki fell into conversation easily and naturally, as if you had known each other for a lifetime. And the more time you spent in his presence, the more at ease you felt, not that you were scared of him in the first place. Nervous, yes, but Loki had a calming air about him, and something told you it was ok. And Loki, for one reason or another, felt comfortable around you. You had the same calming aura about you that Loki felt drawn to, and he found he actually wanted to stay and talk to you longer.

That never happened with anyone before… Loki wondered why that was. 

Before you knew it, the sun started to set, and you looked up with a gasp, “It’s getting late,” you breathed, “I…” you paused as you stared into Loki’s eyes, “I should go.”

Loki bid you farewell with a nod and watched you leave. And he already decided he was going to keep an eye on you until you were safe. He wasn’t going to let you know, though, and he stayed in the shadows, keeping watch over you from afar. And as he did, he couldn’t help but notice the new feeling in his chest. Sure, Loki had bedded princes and princesses, lords and ladies, and common men and women. But, you… you were different. And he couldn’t help the feeling of fondness towards you.

You seemed to know the path well, and you made your way to the clearing at the edge of the woods in no time. Behind you was the fantasy world, the forest, the place where your life just changed forever. In front of you was the real world, civilization, the daily grind. Taking a deep breath, you took the first step back into reality. 

But, as you started to leave, you suddenly found that you were not alone. A chill ran up your spine as a group of men whistled at you, and closed in on you quickly.

“Hey there sweetheart,” one of them grinned darkly.

You didn’t reply, but your hands shook as you looked around for an escape plan.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” another chimed in, “We just want to talk to you.”

A whimper escaped your lips as you hated the helpless feeling that came over you. But, a growl in the distance called all your attention, and everyone snapped over and saw a shadowy creature. All that was visible were glowing eyes and sharp teeth, but it was enough to scare the men away. You, on the other hand, backed away and tried to make yourself smaller in hopes that whatever it was would chase them, and you let out a heavy breath when you felt a rush of wind past you and heard a roar in the distance where the men ran off to.

You stood still for several moments as you processed what happened. For some time, you didn’t dare move, yet something within said you were safe. There was a familiar feeling around the air, as if you were being watched. Yet, you didn’t feel threatened like with the men who approached you. Looking around, you took one tentative step away from where you stood  in hopes of finding someone, yet you were alone. After letting out a deep breath, you turned and left, smirking to yourself; you had a hunch who was responsible for the shadowy creature that saved your life. After all, you did notice that the shadowy creature had bright green eyes.

In the shadows, Loki smiled with satisfaction.

*

One week to the day later, you found yourself back at the same spot. You weren't sure why or what you were expecting, yet you couldn’t help but find your way back there. The sun shone through the trees, warming your skin, and you felt at peace here.

“Well, it looks as if you and I had similar ideas, darling,” a voice chimed through the trees.

“Loki,” you breathed as you turned around and met his gaze. The tension you momentarily held in your shoulders melted away and you grinned widely, “Were you stalking me?” you asked cheekily.

“Never,” Loki replied, “It seems mere coincidence that we both came back to this spot on the same day.”

You gave him a pointed look, but the smirk never left your face, keeping the tone light.

“I promise,” Loki raised his hands in mock surrender, “I’ll never lie to you, my lovely.”

Your breath caught in your throat as the world around you suddenly felt hot, “I.. Uhhh,” you stumbled over your words, unsure of how to respond, “Thanks,” you decided on in a low mumble.

Loki returned the grin you gave him earlier, “Shall we sit, darling?” 

It turned into a routine for the two of you. Every week on the same day at the same time, you and Loki met in the woods. It was your escape from the world for both of you. It became a comfort for each of you to seek solace in the other. Although neither of you ever officially made plans, or said you’d be back the next week, you always were. 

For you, it was an escape from your life, from your stresses, to meet with Loki. And though you never thought you’d make friends with a Norse god, you were grateful for him. You tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered when you realized tomorrow was your meeting day, and you forced your heart to calm its wild beating as you stood in the woods waiting for him.

And as for Loki, he felt the same way. He never expected to find peace and solidarity on earth, and he certainly didn’t expect to fall… Loki laughed at himself, for so long he chastised his brother for loving someone from earth and here he was… They have more in common than Loki cared to admit. And he wasn’t ready to fully admit his feelings for you yet. They were there though.

Loki paced around the forest; it was unusual for you to not be there waiting for him. It was rare he felt nervous, but Loki couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his gut. Everything in him screamed that something was wrong, and after he waited long enough, Loki decided he was going to look for you.

And may the gods help if anyone hurt you…

*

You groaned as your body ached. The last thing you remembered was that you were on your way to meet Loki for your weekly rendezvous when you bumped into a group of men who looked like they were up to go good. You gasped and tried to run, but one of them grabbed you. You tried to scream, but no one heard you, and the last thing you heard before a cloth covered your face was, “Wrong place wrong time, sweetheart.”

And that was how you found yourself in a locked room tied to a chair, blindfolded and gagged. You wiggled in your binds as much as you could, but it was no use. They were tied too tight, and you had no idea where you were anyway even if you could break free. You didn’t even know what time or what day it was. And you whimpered softly when you realized that you would most likely never see Loki again…

Or so you thought.

Gunshots and screams from a distance called your attention and you snapped up to strain to listen. You faced where the source of the sound was, even if you couldn’t see anything. You didn’t dare move, however, since you had no idea what was happening. Were you going to be safe with whoever attacked the men who kidnapped you? Or would it be worse? You held your breath, pressing your lips together as you tried to calm your trembling hands.

The screaming went on for what felt like hours, and you could only imagine what the men were fighting in their last moments. Part of you didn’t want to dwell on it, but part of you had to have hope that whoever it was would be your savior. You never, however, expected to hear your name after the screaming stopped.

“Loki?” you whispered. When his voice called your name again, you shouted back, “Loki!”

The door burst open, and you heard Loki breathe your name in relief as he rushed over and untied you, “You’re alright, it’s me.”

“Loki?” tears filled your eyes as you were filled with disbelief that he was actually here. He actually came. For you. “You…?”

“I’m here,” he cupped your face, “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head as you felt your body tremble, “A little sore, but I’m ok,” you froze as you looked into his eyes and your heart skipped a beat at the look on his face, “Loki… You… You came for me?” your voice was shaky. 

Loki grinned, “Darling… You underestimate how much you mean to me. I wasn't about to let them hurt you. and I certainly wasn’t about to let them even consider killing you.”

Before you could stop yourself, you lunged forward and kissed him deeply. Your bodies smashed together as you pushed everything you had into him, clinging to him hard. You trembled as your emotions overwhelmed you and for a moment, you lost yourself into the feeling of Loki’s lips. It brought a comfort unlike anything you were expecting, and a lone tear fell down your cheek. But, then you realized what you did.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed as you tried to pull away, “I don’t know what came over me.”

Loki just mumbled your name as he cupped your chin and gently turned you so you met his gaze. There was a sure look in his eyes, and it told you everything you needed to know. This time, it was Loki who closed the gap between your faces, kissing you once more. His kiss was more tender, but very purposeful, and Loki wasted no time in darting his tongue past your lips.

You moaned into the kiss as you lost yourself in the emotions once more. For a moment, you forgot where you were as Loki became your entire world. Nothing existed beyond him and his kiss. And the taste of him was immediately intoxicating.

But, neither of you could stay like that forever, and after one last peck on your lips, Loki broke away. He stayed close to you, however, and his voice stayed low and soft and comforting, “Let’s get you out of here.”

Without a word, you nodded.

*

“Sorry it’s not much,” you stood nervously at your front door as you let Loki inside your place, “It must be completely different than what you’re used to…”

Loki caressed you as he reassured you, “It’s wonderful, darling,” he purred. Truthfully, he wasn’t even paying much attention to your place; Loki couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

Feeling his heavy gaze on you, you turned back from where your eyes wandered around the living space and you felt a tingle up your spine at the way Loki eyed you, “Loki…” you whispered. 

Time felt like it stopped as you stared into each other’s eyes. Your breath caught in your chest as you felt your heart pound. Between the way his hands cradled your form and the way he looked at you with those dark eyes, you knew exactly what Loki was thinking. And before you lost your nerve, you made your move.

You crashed yourself into him as you pressed your lips into his. Loki immediately yanked your close, his hands roaming up and down your sides as he deepened the kiss. Both of you moaned into each other as you savored the taste of the other. Heat rose in the room as passions erupted, and there was only one thing on both of your minds.

“Bedroom is this way,” you murmured, your tone low, “You want to…?”

“I thought you’d never ask, my lovely,” Loki smirked.

Sliding your hand in his, you led the way, and Loki kept a cheeky grin on his face as he waved his hand the moment you crossed into the bedroom. Suddenly, all your clothes were piled neatly on the dresser, his next to yours. Before you could react to his antic, Loki pounced on you, crashing both your bodies onto the bed.

You landed on your back with Loki overtop of you. You gasped as you found yourself in such a vulnerable position, yet you weren’t scared. You could never be scared of Loki. No, there was a different feeling that pulsed through your veins, and it made your body warm at the thought of what was to come. 

Loki hovered over you, his hands on either side of your body. As he trailed up and down your figure with his eyes, Loki felt his cock harden and his heartbeat quicken, “You are absolutely lovely,” he purred, “A decadence of perfection.”

All you could do was whimper as your mind went blank. No one ever whispered such sweet and beautiful words to you, or about you, before. Your hands roamed all over Loki’s bare chest, and you felt a rush of need between your legs as he groaned at your touch. “Please, Loki,” you whispered, “Don’t tease me right now.”

He smiled down at you as he caressed the side of your head, “Don’t worry, darling,” Loki’s tone was just as low as yours, “Let me show you how a god makes love.”

The moan you let out echoed in the room as Loki leaned in and attached his lips to your skin. With expert precision, he nibbled and licked and sucked at every spot that made you mewl, as if he had touched you a thousand times before. Loki groaned into your skin as he kissed his way across your chest before latching onto your nipple.

You arched your back, allowing Loki more access to your body as you dug into his shoulders. Your mind swam in pleasure as he swirled his tongue around your nipple, driving you wild. Bucking your hips into his, you murmured his name once more, begging him for more.

“I’ve got you, darling,” Loki hummed as he kissed his way back up your body, “Exquisite,” his voice was a low rumble that went right to your core. Loki noticed of course, “You like that, darling?” he asked, amused.

He didn’t give you the chance to properly answer as he rocked his hips against yours, dragging his cock between your legs. The action made you moan even louder and you dropped your head down onto the mattress. “Fuck… Loki…”

He exhaled sharply with a grin as he did it again, feeling a tingle up his down spine as he rocked himself against your body. But, as much as Loki wanted to prolong this, the way you cried out, and especially moaned his name, made him more impatient than usual. “Are you ready, darling?” he asked as he reached between your bodies and lined his cock up with your entrance.

“Yes,” you replied immediately, “Please, Loki.”

Loki groaned as he slowly pushed himself inside you, feeling your warmth engulf him. Both of you gasped loudly as he filled you inch by inch. You cried out as he pushed deeper inside you, and you wrapped your arms and legs around him as much as you could, holding him tightly.

Once Loki’s hips met yours, he immediately started a slow yet harsh pace. Skin slapped against skin as Loki drove his cock into you over and over again. Your mouth dropped open as the moans and cries flowed freely- music to his ears.

“That’s it, darling,” Loki purred, “So beautiful…” he mourned your name as he lost himself in you.

As Loki’s cock hit that one spot deep inside you, your eyes shot open and you screamed louder, “Loki! Fuck! Yes!”

He growled as he picked up his pace, aiming for that spot every time, “I’m close too, darling,” he groaned, “Fuck, you’re so lovely.”

“Loki…” you whimpered as you saw stars and felt your skin tingle.

It only took a few more thrusts for you to completely fall apart and you came with a loud scream. Your nails dug into his skin as your entire body trembled. Never in your life had you felt a pleasure like this, and it brought fresh tears to your eyes from the overwhelming sensations.

Loki groaned as he watched the spectacle you put on just for him. His arms trembled as he fought to keep himself overtop of you, not wanting to miss a moment of your climax. Although you couldn’t hear over your screams, Loki mumbled soft praises as you came on his cock. And he had never seen anything in the nine realms more beautiful than you were right there in that moment.

And that was when Loki couldn’t hold back any more. He came hard, his own orgasm overtaking his entire body. And Loki did something he had never done before in bed- he moaned your name as he spilled himself deep inside you. Tears of his own formed in the corners of his eyes as he gave one last thrust before he fell forward.

Heavy breaths filled the room as you both came down from your highs. Loki placed a series of feather light kisses on your skin wherever he could reach as he caressed your body tenderly. Once he gathered his strength, he carefully pulled out of you, kissing the side of your head as you gasped. Loki didn’t go far, though, and he settled in your bed with you gathered safely and secretly in his arms. Together, the two of you laid like that for several moments in a comfortable silence.

Until you broke it with a question that had been on your mind for some time, “Why me?” you asked. 

Loki grinned, “Remember the day we first met?” he paused as you nodded, “You can see beyond what’s in front of you, and that, my lovely, is a rare occurrence in the universe,” Loki cradled you in his arms as you let out a deep breath, “Sleep now. I’ll watch over you. You’re always safe with me.” He placed a feather light kiss on your head.

“I know I am,” you yawned contently, “Loki I…” you fell asleep mid thought.

Loki watched you for some time as he whispered to your sleeping form, “I’ll protect you, darling. No one will ever harm you again, I’ll make sure of it.” 

As Loki watched you sleep, he noticed that the beat of your heart was the exact same rhythm that drew him to earth time and time again. It was like a siren song that called out to him although neither if you were aware of it. Was it soulmates, as your people would call it? Perhaps… but Loki was never one to believe such fables… until now. He smirked to himself before he fell asleep in the last place he expected. But it was right where he belonged. And you were right where you belonged: safely in his arms.

[yearofcreation2023]

My Muse

Summary: You have been dreaming of "your muse" for as long as you could remember, moments you swore were memories, but you had always brushed them off, just put the face you saw into your art. Little did you know, your muse was so close...

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Female!Reader 

Words: 2,160

Warnings: missed chances, angst with a happy ending, flashbacks

This is my November story for my Year of Creation: Soulmates! This challenge is being run by @yearofcreation2023, and you can find my masterlist for this challenge here!

Feedback fuels me!

You had never doubted that you would be an artist. Ever since you could remember, you had loved to draw and painting. As you grew, that love had only grown. Now, as an adult out of college and in a career, you considered art your “true love”. That fact had ended multiple relationships, too many men hating that art came before them. You had let them go, knowing that whoever you were meant to be with would understand, accept your art.

Part of you knew that you would recognize him when you saw him. The man you were meant to be with. You dreamt of him, you had for years now, most of the dreams only flashes of him. Even with more dreams as you grew, you still barely remembered what he looked like. But certain things you would remember: the curve of his jaw, the mischief in his smile, the warmth of his hands.

Part of you swore the dreams were flashes of past lives, leading you to him. If only you could remember those lives, remember him.

So you pushed that want into your pieces. You called him your “muse”, this unknown man. A lot of your last exhibit had been focused on him, lots of viewers loving the idea of a muse, a faceless one at that.

You just hoped that one day he could have a face in your work.

Benedict liked teaching art. It was fun, different than just wasting away days trying to do art like he had in his early 20’s. The school was fun, full of bright excited kids who either hung on every word or ignored him, and either way he liked his job.

Anthony, ever the worried older brother, was concerned that all the classes would leave Benedict little time for his art, but it seemed like that was the opposite case. Grading the art was easy, because the “grading” was as “A” if the student did the work and put in the time, which was easy to see. After that, it left plenty of time for his own art.

And today, classes had not only been smooth and easy, which meant finishing early, and letting his students go early. They all filed out of the room smiling and talking among themselves. He hummed softly, shutting down his computer and ready to focus on his art for the evening, one of the perks of his own office; he could do his art there while being available to students.

“Miss!” one of his student cried, loud enough to be heard through the open door.

A woman laughed. “Riley, what are you doing in the hall?”

Benedict glanced up at the sound, spying one of his students talking to who Benedict assumed was another teacher, a woman in an apron covered in paint splatters.

Seeing her through the window, his mind flashed to something that felt like a dream.

-1504-

The shirt on his form felt strange, loose and scratchy. The room was full of sunlight, with canvases leaning against the back walls. The painting in front of him was half finished, the paint brush felt familiar, the palate in his off-hand different but familiar all the same.

He glanced out the open window, his breath hitching as his blue eyes fell down on the garden below the tower. She was taking her daily stroll, the daughter of her master. He know he shouldn’t feel his way, shouldn’t look at her like this, he just couldn’t help it.

She was stunning.

He felt his breath leave him altogether as her eyes flickered up, meeting his gaze. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, his heart skipping a beat. Her cheeks turned the colors of the pink flower on her hand, and their gaze broke as her name was called. Her father, his master, joined her.

He looked away, taking a breath and focusing on the painting again.

Benedict let out the breath he was holding, his gaze locked onto her. How was this woman...the same girl? The same one in his dreams? His muse?

Was she all the same?

“Well, don’t waste your day,” she told the student, before walking down the hall, waving.

Benedict watched her until she was out of sight, knowing just what he was going to paint today.

You loved your senior live sketch class. It was intense, different, and something you loved doing. Having live models for your students was something new to them up to them point, and gave them new challenges.

The only problem today was that the model that was supposed to be here had called out sick. And with no one to cover from the theater department (to your surprise), it was left to you to be the model. Giving tips and advice from the middle of the sketch circle was harder than you liked, but it was better than canceling class.

You had just finished one pose, stretching and giving everyone tips. All your students got water, sharpened their pencils, and flipped to a new page of their sketchbooks, and you shifted to a new pose. One of the students set a timer for 30 minutes, lofi music playing in the background as they all started, the sound of pencils against paper relaxing as you took slow breaths.

After some time, your eyes flickered to the windows, catching sight of someone peering in.

Your breath caught as you met his eyes, the stranger’s bright blue eyes reminding you of something...familiar.

-1814-

You shed the robe, ignoring the stares of the men in the room. You were used to them by now, having been a model at the Art Academy many times now. It paid well, and you needed the money, plus it was more preferred than other jobs available to you at the moment.

Sitting in the position directed by the professor, tilting your head down, you let your gaze focus on the wall in the right direction. As your eyes trailed that way, your gaze caught the eye of one of the students, a man you had seen before multiple times.

The heat in his eyes made you pause and your breath catch, and despite the let the urge to keep your gaze locked with his, you looked away, focusing on the point you had chosen.

You had met that man’s eyes too many times, felt his gaze linger too long. You had heard the stories from other girls, how he and other artists, specifically richer artists here liked to take extra time with models for...pleasure in other ways.

You could not deny you wanted that, but you knew doing so would only break you. He was rich, an artist, and beyond you in every way.

There was no reason to break the boundaries of artist and model.

You blinked as the man walked away, your breath leaving you.

Who was he?

Why was that smile, that gaze, that jawline...just like your muse’s?

Benedict enjoyed the “End-of-Year Senior” Art gallery. He didn’t really teach a senior level class, but had several students that were seniors through all of his classes, and always wanted to see their presented piece before they left the school.

Tonight, the first night of the gallery, was just for the staff and seniors. It left time for mingling with the students themselves, seeing the art, and connections between artists rather than teacher and student. Benedict had already seen his student’s pieces and talked with them, congratulating them and telling them how proud he was of them and their work.

Now, he had a whiskey on the rocks in his hand (he loved an open bar for the staff), and he could move around the gallery and look at all the other art. His eyes scanned the room until, wondering what area he should make his way to first, when he noticed someone he barely recognized:

Her.

The woman from weeks ago, who had passed his classroom, that looked like his muse, the woman in his dreams.

She was talking with other students as well, in front of a wall of sketches, gesturing to the pieces and nodding along.

Benedict’s blue eyes stayed locked onto her for...he didn’t know how long, falling into something that felt like a memory.

-1907-

He knew he shouldn’t be looking at her. She was across the gallery, on the arm of her new husband. He had no place to be gazing at her, he had to look away.

“Your pieces are just beautiful, darling.”

Snapping out of his revere, he looked down to his wife, smiling. “Thank you, my dear. I have a special one to show you.”

He lead her to a painting, her smile growing as she gasped, her hand on his arm squeezing. “Is it our wedding venue?”

“Indeed,” he muttered, kissing her temple. “For my beautiful wife. It’ll go in our home after the showing.”

“It’s perfect, Ben.”

His gaze flickered to the painting to the left, one of a silhouette of a woman against a night sky. Anyone around them would think it was his wife, but only he knew it was the woman across the gallery, on the arm of her new husband.

The woman he could never have.

Benedict blinked out of the strange memory, his breath hitching as she looked up across the room, her gaze meeting his.

She froze, before smiling softly, her cheeks darkening. He smiled at the sight, taking a sip of his drink as he decided something.

You felt someone watching you as you finished talking with Avery, glancing up out of instinct. As you met the gaze of the person watching you, you realized immediately that it was the man that had passed your classroom weeks ago, the man that haunted your mind.

Your muse.

You smiled softly as his gaze stayed locked on you, feeling your cheeks warm. He smiled back, and you watched as he took a sip of the drink in his hands before walking towards you.

Oh fuck.

You took a breath to try and gain some courage before he got closer, taking a step away from the students. “Hi,” he muttered.

“Hello,” you replied, laughing softly.

“I’m Benedict Bridgerton, but most people call me Ben,” he introduced. “I teach in the painting department.”

“Y/N,” you stated. “Sketching department. I could never paint.”

He chuckled. “I don’t blame you, it’s a lot.” He took a breath, then, licking his lips. “Call me crazy, but you seem...familiar.”

“You’re not crazy,” you whispered. “I...I could swear I’ve drawn you too many times before.”

Benedict’s smile grew. “And I’ve painted you so many times yet not enough.”

You blushed and laughed. “I always just called you my muse.”

He chuckled, shrugging. “Same. My mother though, she…” He blushed, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight; he was adorable and you wanted to draw him.

“She what?” you pushed quietly.

He stepped closer, his free hand barely brushing against yours. “She always says I dreamed of my soulmate,” he whispered.

You held your breath, your eyes flickering to his lips. “...who knows...maybe she’s right.”

“Don’t tell her that, she’ll never let me live it down.”

You giggled, looking away, which made him chuckle. “How about we get drinks first, and go from there, muse of mine?” you asked. “You have a drink and I don’t, afterall.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Benedict stated, taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. “How about I take you to dinner after this?”

“...deal.”

-2 years later-

“My darling. Love of my life. Muse of my soul.”

You glanced up with a smile to Benedict, who was sitting in front of his easel. “Yes?”

He playfully glared at you, his blue eyes that you adored flickering back to the canvas. “Stop moving.”

You giggled. “I’m trying not you. You’re the one who continues to mess with your hair so I need to move and grab my supplies.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well whenever you move, I have to make sure I’m painting the correct lighting and parts, so I get frustrated, hence my hair gets messy.”

Your smile grew. “It is not my fault that I also want to depict my muse, sweetheart.”

Benedict groaned playfully, setting down his paintbrush. You stayed put but let your eyes follow him as he approached you, the man dragging the coffee table closer to you but out of view of his painting. “There,” he muttered. “Now all your charcoal is closer.”

“Thank you,” you replied softly. He stood fully, about to step away. “Ah!”

Your fiance chuckled, leaning down and cupping your cheek. “As if I could forget to kiss my soulmate,” he said, brushing his lips against yours.

You hummed happily, kissing him back. “Thank you. Now, go paint before the light fades. I won’t move an inch.”

Benedict chuckled, moving back to his easel.

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[yearofcreation2023]

Like A Damn Disney Prince

Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

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Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023​! It features a ton of other awesome creators and runs all year, so go check it out!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Prompt: Aphrodite; Love, Passion, Beauty, Desire, Rose

Summary: Elijah asks the girl of his dreams to accompany him to the Mikaelson ball.

Word Count: 1,396

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Just a second!" I called at the sound of the doorbell. I set down the whisk and the bowl of brownie batter I'd been working on, then quickly wiped my hands before heading to the door. I peeked outside to see who it was and found none other than Elijah Mikaelson standing there, dressed impeccably in a suit as always and with his hands behind his back. I smiled, trying to ignore my racing heart as I opened the door.

"Hi Elijah," I said. He smiled as soon as he saw me, and my heart thumped a little harder than before.

"Hello, Y/N. It's lovely to see you," he said. With that, he brought his hands out from behind his back and held out a rose to me, along with a nice manila envelope. "For you."

"Oh my goodness, thank you," I said, reaching out to take both items from him. He'd brought me an actual rose, while wearing a suit. Like a Disney prince.

"The letter is an invitation to a ball my mother has decided to throw. She asked us each to find a date, and I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather go with."

"Oh my gosh, Elijah! I... I don't know what to say."

"How about... yes?"

I beamed, holding the rose and the letter a little tighter to my chest.

"Yes. Absolutely yes, I'd love to go with you. I'm so happy you asked."

He smiled. "Excellent. I'd offer to pick you up, but my dear sister beat me to that request. She wanted me to ask you if you'd like to go dress shopping and get ready with her in, say, an hour?"

"Absolutely," I replied with a grin. "Rebekah and I are due some girl time."

"Wonderful. Then I'll see you tonight."

Elijah reached out and took my hand, placing a soft kiss on the back of it before stepping away from me with a smile. My heart melted.

"Until we meet again."

With that, he turned and walked away. I watched him go, waving when he got into his car and gave me one last smile before driving off. I stood on my porch for a few more minutes after he'd gone, a dopey but happy smile on my face. I could already tell this night was going to be magical.

Rebekah showed up on my doorstep an hour later on the dot. She'd just finished asking Matt Donovan to be her date, and although she insisted she didn't have feelings for him I felt confident she was lying. Still, I didn't press her on it as we cruised the shops of Mystic Falls trying on every dress that caught our eye. Once we'd each found the one, we went back to my house to get ready.

"Oh. My. God. My brother is going to have his first heart attack in a thousand years."

Rebekah grinned at me as I twirled around the room in my literal ball gown, feeling just like a princess. We'd done each others' makeup and had gotten completely dressed, and now we were basically ready to go. After, of course, we properly hyped each other up.

"You really think so?" I asked, the heat rising to my cheeks. Rebekah nodded.

"I know so."

"Thanks, Beks. And Matt's absolutely gonna fall over at the sight of you, too."

"You're damn right he is," she said, flipping her hair over one shoulder and holding out her arm for me. "Now let's go, shall we?"

I smiled as I took her arm and the two of us headed out to the car. The last rays of sunlight still stretched over the town as we came to a stop outside Mikaelson Manor. Cars lined the street and every other available parking spot, the party already in swing as Rebekah and I arrived.

"I can hear your heart racing," said Rebekah with a smile as we walked up the steps side by side. I huffed.

"Great. Good to know my nerves will be loudly on display for any vampire in attendance."

"You don't need to be nervous."

She said the words as we came to a stop in the entryway, people pausing to look at us before carrying on with their evening. A little ways up the grand staircase in the middle of the room, I could see Elijah standing and talking to Klaus. When he glanced in my direction and first caught sight of me, however, he froze, mouth slightly open before a smile tugged its way onto his face. He said something to his brother, then started walking down the stairs and towards me.

"See? He's head over heels," said Rebekah, leaning in to whisper the words in my ear. I could hear the smirk in her voice. "I'll give you two some space."

With that, she disappeared into the crowd. A moment later, Elijah stood before me, looking even more handsome than usual (which I hadn't thought possible) in an immaculate tuxedo.

"I'm so glad you made it," he said, his words a bit breathless. He looked me up and down, his expression awed, and I smiled back at him. "You look... absolutely stunning."

"Thank you," I said, doing a little curtesy. Elijah grinned. "You look fantastic, too."

"You're very kind."

He paused, staring at me for another few moments, and despite the noise in the rest of the room I had a feeling he could hear my heart pounding. Finally, he held his arm out to me, grinning with a gleam in his eye.

"Come with me," he said. "I have a few people I'd like you to meet."

We made our way around the room, me holding tight to Elijah's arm as he at last introduced me to the rest of his family. I'd met Klaus and obviously Rebekah, but now I got to meet Kol, Finn, and his mother, too. I got the distinct impression his mother was up to something bad, and Elijah shared similar suspicions with me as we moved back into the crowd. But, for tonight, we decided to put every supernatural problem on hold and enjoy the magical evening together.

Finally, after a toast from the Original family themselves, it was time to take to the dance floor. Elijah immediately found me, offering a hand.

"May I have this dance?"

I smiled and took his hand. "Of course."

Elijah led me out onto the dance floor, twirling me into the dance's starting position amidst all the other couples. All kinds of different friends, foes, and otherwise interesting guests dotted the floor, but I ignored every single one of them. The rest of the room fell away as Elijah and I twirled into the first steps of the dance, eyes only for each other.

"I feel like I'm in a fairytale," I admitted, smiling as Elijah twirled me out and away from him before pulling me back into his chest. The look on his face sent warmth blooming through my chest.

"You certainly look the part of a fairytale princess."

I grinned, laughing a little and leaning my head on Elijah's chest. When I looked up again, I found him smiling at me, and in that moment I couldn't possibly have been happier.

"Says the literal Disney prince."

Elijah chuckled. "A Disney prince, hm?"

"Impeccable manners and honor, a true gentleman, handsome, dresses nice, and brought me a rose to ask me on a date? Yes. A Disney prince."

"I didn't realize I checked so many of the boxes."

"Easily."

"Well then, I'm very lucky to have found my princess."

I beamed at Elijah as the dance wound to an end, his arms wrapped tight around my waist as he held me to his chest. Slowly, just barely, he leaned down and glanced at my lips. I knew he wanted to take it slow for me, which I appreciated, but this was one thing I didn't want to take it slow on anymore.

"May I kiss you?" he muttered, voice low with only a few inches between us. I grinned.

"Hell yes."

"You know, I don't think Disney princesses swear-"

"Oh, shut up."

With that, I closed the distance between us and kissed Elijah, hard. He immediately returned the kiss, deepening it a little bit, although not too much since we were still in the middle of the dance floor. And just like in basically every Disney princess movie, in that moment, with Elijah, I knew I'd found my happily ever after.

****************

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