#actually you know what ... I’ll just make one in the tags

[chubby-bun-bun]

untitled (part 4)

The man you stumbled into is bleeding out. And he's distractingly pretty.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 (current)

tags: sylus x reader, an au where you're an average citizen, slow burn, mentions of blood, fluff, you panic bc of his lethal face card, valid reaction tbh, 10/10 would do the same

Interacting directly with a beautiful man reduces you to an idiot, you realize.

You’ve met attractive men before—had crushes on such men. They weren’t necessarily easy on the eyes, but there was always something they said, did, or had that made you feel some type of way about them. The seventh-grade classmate who shushed your chattering peers during your presentation. The corner store clerk with pretty hands. The college senior who made you feel welcome at your acquaintance party. The tall guy who unknowingly saved you from getting squished by the sardine-packed commuters on the train.

Sure, your next interactions with them made you hyper-aware of their presence for a time—hanging on to their every word and unknowingly seeking them out in the room. But you think you remained fairly casual and blasé with them, as you do with most things.

Unlike right now.

As your mind begins to clear, you register that you’re stripped down to just your base layer. In the middle of winter. Your puffer jacket lies damp on the ground, and your sweater—now sporting huge splotches of blood—is folded haphazardly against the man’s abdomen. (You try not to let the sight of the dark liquid summon the remains of your dinner.)

Your gaze flickers between his ruined shirt and your clasped hands, cupped by his much larger, warmer ones. When you look up, you’re taken aback to find his intense garnet eyes already locked on you.

“Are you alright?” he asks, the deep, velvety timbre of his voice compelling you to straighten up unconsciously.

“Yes,” you splutter, air barely making it past your throat. Then, your eyes widen. “Are you alright?” you stress, gesturing wildly to the concerning state of his abdominal area.

He chuckles. “Never been better.”

You gape at him. “But you’re bleeding!”

He glances down at his bloodied clothes. “It appears so.”

You like to think you have a good head on your shoulders. You always stay on the correct side of the sidewalk. You tidy up your table as much as you can at food joints. You try to abide by city recycling guidelines to make life easier for sanitation workers. And you’re decently vigilant, thanks to the countless true crime documentaries you’ve crammed into your brain.

But alas, it seems a beautiful man is all it takes for common sense to call it a day.

“Okay, so I actually won some groceries earlier, and I think I have some first-aid supplies in there,” you babble, missing the knowing glint in his eyes. “My house is just a little further down the street. If you want, I can treat your wound there?”

He’s still holding your hands. You realize your palms must be clammy from cold sweat—and his blood. You politely pull your hands back with a laugh you hope sounds natural. (It doesn’t.)

“Oh wait, you probably need a hospital,” you blurt, mentally berating yourself for not considering this first. You start fishing for your phone in your jeans pocket. “I can call the emergency hotline for Akso Hospital. I work there. Um, I can even ride with you in the ambulance if you’d like?”

The man laughs, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

“I appreciate the help, sweetie, but you shouldn’t be so quick to give out personal information to people you just met.”

Heat creeps up your neck. He’s right. You’re basically handing him a free pass to rob your place. What if he’s a serial killer?

As you feel yourself spiraling further, he begins to stand, grabbing your dropped jacket as he rises. You instinctively lean back, mouth agape at his towering height and the fact that he just stood up—quite gracefully—despite clutching his wound mere moments ago.

“I’ll have your sweater washed and dry-cleaned,” he says, folding the soiled fabrics neatly into compact squares. “Know that your assistance back there is much appreciated.”

“Oh—! It was nothing. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

A single snowflake lands on your face and you blink, nose twitching at the gentle melting sensation. Looking up, you notice the sky is now a beautiful backdrop of powdery snow, falling softly around you.

“It’s getting late,” he observes, also gazing up at the scenery. “Let me walk you home.”

Before you can protest, he drapes his coat over your shoulders. You’re immediately overwhelmed by the scent of fresh linen and something distinctly masculine that has you instinctively relaxing into the warm confines of the comically oversized garment.

“But aren’t you cold?” you ask, unknowingly tucking yourself further into his coat.

“No,” he responds with a hint of laughter, pressing a hand to your back to gently guide you toward the park entrance.

The short walk to your house is surprisingly comfortable. Aside from occasionally fumbling over your words and avoiding his gaze (his face is distractingly handsome, and his impressive height and physique make you strangely self-conscious), you manage a decent conversation.

You learn he was taking a casual stroll when he had a “squabble” with some old business partners. You can only stare at the back of his head at this revelation. What kind of squabble leads to a wound like that? And how is he acting so fine now? If it weren’t for the bloodstain on his expensive-looking high-neck top, you’d think you hallucinated the whole thing.

You also learn he’s visiting the city on a business trip. After hearing this, the rest of the walk is filled with you recommending your favorite places: the food spots you’re yet to use your lifetime vouchers for, the cat café with the snooty caracal you love petting, and the old arcade where you’ve won most of your plushie collection. (You make sure to share with him a few secret tricks for mastering the darn two-pronged claw machine.)

Belatedly, it dawns on you that such activities might hold little interest for a man like him. Flustered, you open your mouth to undo the torrent of nonsense you’ve been spouting, when he suddenly stops and turns to face you.

“Your recommendations are duly noted,” he says, eyes glowing with amusement. “I’ll be sure to try them sometime.”

You’ve arrived at your house. You're surprised by the unexpected pang of disappointment you feel.

“Thank you for walking me home,” you murmur, suddenly feeling shy.

He hands over your now-drier puffer jacket. “It was my pleasure. Now go inside before you turn into an icicle.”

“Oh—your coat,” you exclaim, beginning to shrug it off. But he stops you with a raised hand.

“Keep it,” he tells you. “I’ll get it back when I return your sweater.”

You hesitate. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Then, as if recalling a secret you’re not privy to, he smiles softly. “I trust it’ll be in safe hands. You seem exceptional at caring for things.”

Before you can unpack his words, he turns and starts walking toward the main road.

“Wait! What’s your name?” You can't believe you haven't asked till now.

He pauses before glancing over his shoulder.

“Sylus,” he finally says.

“Sylus,” you repeat, liking the way it rolls off your tongue. “It’s a pretty name.”

Your hand flies to your mouth, eyes widening in horror. Why not tell him he’s hot while you’re at it, doofus?

As you fumble for an apology and prepare to sentence yourself to a blabbermouth timeout, he chuckles.

“Indeed it is.”

You can’t quite put your finger on it, but there’s a trace of melancholy in his voice that stays with you.

With a wave, he walks into the snowy dark, his figure gradually fading.

And that’s when it hits you.

How did he know which house was yours?

note: seeing the love this series has gotten has been surprising! the comments, reblog captions, and tags you leave are honestly hilarious and i had a blast reading through them 💞

tag list: @thepotatoislost, @xxfaithlynxx, @browneyedgirl22, @vorfreudevortex

[chancloud8]

CHAPTER 1

series masterlist

Pairing: OT8 x reader

Word Count: 3,9k

Tags: Intro, bodyguard!ot8, idol!reader

Summery: Meeting your new bodyguards doesn't go as smoothly as everyone hoped..

‘I don’t need a group of bodyguards,’ you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. 

Your manager Yoona doesn’t even look at you anymore and you fight the urge to stamp your feet like a little child to get her attention. You won’t stoop that low though, so instead you place your hands on your hips and glare at the woman who’s been by your side since you debuted about two years ago. 

‘We’re not having this discussion again, y/n,’ Yoona says, her eyes still fixed on her phone screen. ‘Your popularity is growing by the day, you’ve received multiple death threats in the last few months and in case you forgot, last week someone tried to break into your home.’ 

Your shoulders deflate and your hands fall down beside your body. You can’t really argue with that, but you’ve grown so accustomed to having Faris at your side as your one and only bodyguard, that the thought of eight men taking his place makes you shiver. Who the hell needed eight freaking bodyguards? You weren’t a princess for fuck’s sake. 

Yoona finally looks at you then. ‘It’s very important to us to keep you safe, darling. I know it will be an adjustment, but you’ll get used to it.’ 

‘But eight?’ you argue, trying once more. ‘Do I really need eight men following my every move?’ 

‘That’s why we’re placing some of them around you with other jobs as well, kind of like undercover bodyguards,’ Yoona smiles at you like that makes it any better. 

You slump down in the chair across from Yoona and frown at her. What could bodyguards possibly go undercover as in your team? Woman, sure, no problem, but a muscled man? They’d stand out immediately. 

‘What do you mean?’ you ask carefully, not sure if you even want to know. 

‘They all have multiple skill sets, but we decided on adding three of them as your dancers and one will probably step in as a personal assistant of sorts,’ Yoona explains, her eyes once more on her phone screen. 

‘Why?’ you blurt out. ‘I don’t even need new dancers? We’re not firing anyone are we?’ 

You were perfectly happy with your team as it was and it would kill you to let any of them go because Yoona decided you needed eight freaking men to watch you. 

Yoona sighed and put down her phone. ‘We’re not firing anyone, but Dohyun is still recovering from his injury and Ju-won has asked for a few months off to visit his family. As for why, it will allow them to be around you more casually.’ 

Damnit. That actually made sense. 

‘And you’re sure they can dance?’ you ask, already knowing the answer. Yoona would never suggest something like this if they couldn’t. 

‘Yes, y/n, they can dance. I think you’ll be impressed actually.’ 

That makes you curious. Yoona isn’t easily impressed, so if she thinks you’ll approve, they must be good. Maybe you should give them a chance, or just be such a brat they run away screaming. 

‘Fine,’ you sigh. ‘When will I meet them?’ 

Yoona looks at her watch and your eyes widen at the movement. She wouldn’t do this to you, would she? 

‘They’ll be here in an hour to meet you,’ Yoona says and you let out a relieved breath. ‘You better be back here by then or I will let one of them drag you here by your ear.’ 

‘Bossy much,’ you whisper, but you don’t really mean it. You luckily have a very good relationship with your manager and even though she drives you up a wall sometimes, you know she has your best interest at heart. 

Yoona rolls her eyes at you and waves her hand at the door. ‘Go be bratty somewhere else, I’ll see you in an hour.’ 

You bark out a laugh and jump up from the chair. ‘As you wish, my Queen,’ you say, doing a little courtesy. 

Your current bodyguard Faris is waiting for you in the hallway, a smile on his handsome face as he spots you. 

‘Good talk?’ he asks, following one step behind you. 

‘You knew about this, didn’t you?’ you ask, glaring at him over your shoulder. 

‘I’m the one who recommended them actually,’ Faris says and only his quick reflexes stop him from walking straight into your back as you stop walking immediately at his words. 

‘What?’ you turn around to frown at him. ‘Why would you do that to me?’ 

Faris raises his eyebrows and stares down at you with a knowing look, his arms crossing over his chest. 

‘Fine,’ you roll your eyes at him. ‘I know why, Yoona was so kind to remind me, but I still don’t get why it has to be eight.’ 

‘It might seem excessive to you Nabi,’ Faris says, addressing you with your stage name which he knows usually softens you. ‘But you don’t see all that we see and trust me when I say that once you’re on tour, you’ll be happy to have them by your side. It gets crazy out there.’ 

‘I know that, but undercover bodyguards?’ you make a face. ‘I’m not royalty.’ 

Faris chuckles and with a gentle push on your shoulder, he guides you further through the hallway and towards the studio you were working at before Yoona called you to her office. It was one of the things you really liked about your agency. Nearly everything you needed was in the same building. 

‘You may as well be and I trust Chan and his guys to keep you safe,’ Faris says as he holds a door open for you. 

‘So you really know them?’ you ask, sitting down at the desk you were working at before. Your laptop is still open on the editing program you work with and there are multiple notebooks, paper coffee cups and empty candy wrappers spread all around it. ‘Did you work with them before?’ 

‘I trained 3RACHA actually,’ Faris nods. ‘Chan and I had multiple gigs together after that and I’ve only heard good things about the others as well. I’m confident I’m leaving you in good hands.’ 

‘You shouldn’t be leaving me at all,’ you groan, throwing your head back against your chair. ‘But I understand and I hope that when I have a husband one day, he'll do the same for me.’ 

Faris just smiles at that and gets comfortable on the couch facing the door. He knows better than to get into this conversation with you again. Last time you ended up facetiming his wife in tears and he ended up having to calm down two crying women. 

‘Wait, did you just say sriracha?’ you sit up in your chair when your brain suddenly realizes what he had just said. ‘As in the hot sauce?’

‘No, I said 3RACHA, that’s what they called themselves back then,’ Faris replies, glancing at you. ‘I think they made music together in their free time, before they started their own company.’ 

Huh. Interesting. Why on earth would they go from making music together to becoming bodyguards? 

‘So all eight of them made music together?’ you ask curiously. 

‘No, just Chan, Jisung and Changbin. I think they mostly rapped, but if you’re interested in knowing more, you can always ask. It could break the ice when you meet them,’ Faris suggests, winking at you. 

‘I’ll pass, I don’t want them to think I’m happy about this arrangement,’ you murmur, turning your chair so your back is to Faris. ‘Will you tell me when it’s time to go?’ 

‘Don’t I always?’ he chuckles. 

You flip him off without looking and put on your headphones. Time to edit some more music. 

****

You’re so engrossed in your music, that it takes Faris multiple tries to get you to put down your headphones. He even goes as far as opening the blinds to let the light in, making you whimper and flinch by the intrusion of it. 

‘Alright, alright,’ you yell, your eyes scrunched close. ‘I beg for mercy, I’ll come with you.’ 

Faris laughs and closes the blinds, once again developing the room in darkness, just how you like it. He has scolded you many times before about how bad it is for your eyes to squint at your screen in a dark room, but you rarely listen to him about it. 

‘If you think about telling my new watch dogs this trick of yours, I’ll haunt you,’ you warn Faris when the two of you walk towards Yoona’s office. 

Faris makes a movement with his hands as if he’s zipping his lips closed and you nod happily at him, trusting him to keep his word. 

‘How late are we?’ you ask, having forgotten your phone in the studio when Faris basically dragged you out by your arm. 

‘About five minutes too early,’ he smiles proudly. 

Of fucking course. He’s been working with you for two years so he knows all your annoying traits by now, including having a habit of being late because you simply forget the time when you’re working. 

‘What will I do without you,’ you pout at him, ignoring the nervous butterflies in your stomach as you near Yoona’s office. 

‘You’ll be just fine, Nabi,’ Faris says and you’re not sure if he means it as a reply to what you just said or as a reassurance before meeting your new team of bodyguards. 

Taking a deep breath, you turn towards Faris. ‘How do I look?’ 

‘I thought you didn’t care?’ he grins, but he reaches out to flatten a few wild strands of your hair. 

You blow him a kiss, put on a straight face and turn around to knock on the door before pushing it open. The first thing you’re greeted with is the silhouette of 4 men standing with their back to you. Each of them have broad muscular shoulders that are clearly visible under the black suit jacket they’re wearing, the fabric straining like they’re wearing a size too small. 

The man on the right turns around when you enter and you nearly gasp at his beauty. His hair is styled to show a little v of his forehead and the black strands nearly reach his eyes. Jesus. He could be a model if he wanted too. He raises his eyebrows at you when you just stare at him for a moment, before he nudges the man next to him. 

‘Are you fucking kidding me,’ you mutter under your breathe when the other man turns around and piercing eyes meet yours. 

Of course he’s beautiful as well. What the hell was Yoona thinking? 

‘Ah, Y/N, there you are,’ Yoona says when she notices you. ‘On time, even.’ 

You roll your eyes and stroll forward to her desk, ignoring the four men as you make your way around them. In that little moment you forget there’s supposed to be more of them and when you turn to stand next to Yoona and see the chairs in front of her desk filled with four more gorgeous men, you nearly stumble. 

Yoona grins at you and you narrow your eyes at the woman. 

‘You think this is funny, don’t you?’ you grumble at her. ‘Where did you even find them? heaven?’ 

One of the men snorts before trying to cover it up with a cough. 

‘Don’t mind her gentleman, she’s in a mood today,’ Yoona smiles. 

‘I wonder why,’ you mutter, sending a fake smile in the direction of the bodyguards. 

‘That’s alright, it must be a lot to take in,’ one of them says with such a deep voice that your eyes widen. 

It must look comical, cause the same man that snorted earlier, lets out a giggle. ‘Don’t worry, Miss, it’s how everyone reacts to first hearing Felix’s voice,’ 

You want to focus on him calling you Miss, but the urge to see which face belongs to the deep voice is stronger.

‘Who’s Felix?’ you ask, your eyes searching the men in front of you. 

‘I am,’ the only blonde man of the group says, lifting his hand to show you where he is. He’s absolutely stunning with freckles sprinkled over his nose and cheeks. 

‘Holy shit, is that your real voice?’ you ask without thinking, slapping your hand in front of your mouth as soon as the words come out. 

He laughs and a few of the other men chuckle as well. 

‘It is, sometimes it gets even deeper,’ he says. 

‘Yeah, Lix actually has like three different voices,’ the man who called you Miss grins. 

It’s getting annoying not to know his name, but you don’t want to ask and seem interested. Luckily one of the men at the back seems to read your mind somehow. 

‘Why don’t we all introduce ourselves, my name is Bang Chan, but you can call me Chan. I’m the leader and head of your security team as of now. So if you experience any problems with our service in any way, I’m the one you can come to.’ 

‘Noted,’ you mumble, ignoring Yoona’s glare at your rudeness. 

So that’s Chan. Faris forgot to mention how beautiful his trainee was and you were so going to punch his arm for that later. 

‘I’m Lee Minho,’ the one with the piercing stare says. ‘I’ll be joining your dance team.’ 

Fuck. Of course he is. 

‘So will I,’ Felix smiles. ‘Lee Felix.’

‘And me, Hwang Hyunjin,’ the man closest to you winks. 

Great. They were absolutely going to kill you. In more ways than one. 

Biting your lip you wait for the last four to introduce themselves and pray to all the gods that Miss guy is going to be your assistant. He already feels like the most easy going out of all eight and if you need to work with one of them closely, you’d rather it be him than anyone else. 

‘Kim Seungmin, I’ll be one of your bodyguards’ the one who noticed you first says, his eyes flicking up and down your body as if he’s calculating how much of a flight risk you are. 

Oh just you wait and see buddy. 

‘I’m Yang Jeongin, but you can call me Innie or Ayen,’ the very cute man in front of Seungmin smiles and you nearly smile back at him. 

Finally the man you’ve been waiting for speaks up. ‘I’m Han Jisung, your new assistant.’ 

You cheer in your head, keeping a straight face as you look at the last man. He’s definitely the most buff of them all, his biceps really testing the fabric of his suit jacket. 

‘And I’m Seo Changbin, also part of your daily bodyguard squad.’ 

‘You’re all way too beautiful to be bodyguards,’ you say, crossing your arms with a frown while tapping your foot on the ground. 

Yoona makes a noise beside you and you don’t dare to look at her. She’ll definitely lecture you later, but this is all on her anyways. 

‘Worried your fans will fawn over us?’ Jisung jokes, winking at you. 

Your lips tip up in a tiny smile, but you quickly straighten your face. It was going to be hard to be a brat to them, but you were nothing if you weren’t stubborn. You’re not going to just warm up to them because they were hot and funny. Nope. Not going to happen. 

‘More like you’d be too busy worrying about your good looks to protect me,’ you say, raising your eyebrows at them. 

‘Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,’ Minho grumbles, placing his hand on Jisung’s shoulder as if to comfort him. ‘You won’t have to worry about that, looking this good doesn’t cost us much.’

You open your mouth to reply, but Yoona gets up and goes to stand next to you. 

‘That’s enough Y/N,’ she hisses before smiling her million dollar smile to the men. ‘As you can see Y/N hasn’t really warmed up to the idea of having this many eyes on her all the time.’ 

‘Don’t you have that all the time though,’ Seungmin says directly to you. 

You glare at him. ‘That’s not the same. 

He just shrugs. ‘We don’t want anything from you like your fans or stalkers. We’re not here to be your friends, we’re just here to keep you safe. That’s all that should matter.’ 

His words hit you harder than they should and you can’t help but flinch. The idol life isn't great for maintaining friendships and since you weren’t in a group, the only people you really had around you to talk to were your bodyguard Faris, Yoona and your dancers. You didn’t have a best friend, or even really friends in general, not since high school ended. 

‘Min!’ Chan calls out, glaring at the man. 

You square your shoulders and tilt your head, putting another fake smile on your face. ‘It’s fine, he’s right isn’t he.’ 

‘No, he’s not,’ Chan shakes his head. ‘Listen-’ 

‘It’s fine,’ you repeat, interrupting him. ‘How about I’ll show Jisung his office and we can go over the schedule for next week?’ 

Chan frowns down at you, sharing a look with Jisung and Yoona, but then he nods. You give him a nod back in thanks and without looking at any of the other guys you make a beeline for the door, hoping Jisung will follow you. 

‘Well, that went great,’ you hear someone say before you step outside. 

Faris frowns when he sees the look on your face, but he doesn’t say anything and falls into step behind you like he always does. It’s one of the things you love about him, he always knows when to not ask questions. You can hear him and Jisung quietly talking behind you, but you don’t mind, they know each other after all. 

‘Well, here we are,’ you say, opening the door of the small office area next to the studio you usually work at. ‘You can arrange everything how you like and if you need anything you can ask Yoona.’ 

‘I wasn’t expecting an office,’ Jisung smiles at you, stepping inside the room to take a look. 

It’s not much. Just a desk with a comfortable chair and a computer, a two person couch and in the corner there’s a bookcase that so far only houses a cactus, your first three albums and a box with documents your last assistant left behind. 

‘Of course you get an office, can’t have you shacking up with me in the studio,’ you say, trying to joke with him. 

‘Hey, about what Seungmin said,’ Jisung starts, sitting down in his desk chair and twirling around. ‘He’s just very serious about his job, he didn’t really mean the part about us not being your friends.’ 

‘It’s fine,’ you shrug. ‘You’re not really meant to be my friends anyways, you’re hired to protect me.’ 

‘Yeah, you don’t look too happy about that. Why is that?’ Jisung asks and he sounds genuinely curious. ‘I mean, sure we’re a whole lot, but isn’t it nice to know you’ll be safe?’ 

‘Safe? Yes. Watched by eight, I repeat, eight men? No thank you, I don’t need that.’ 

Jisung tilts his head and purses his lips in thought, like he’s actually trying to see this from your side. ‘I get it, I do, I’ve lived with most of them for the last few years and like I said, we can be a lot.’ 

‘But?’ you ask, falling down on the couch in front of Jisung’s new desk. ‘I feel there’s a but there.’ 

‘You really have no idea, do you?’ Jisung leans his chin on his palm as he looks at you. ‘We’ve seen the threats Y/N, we’ve seen the video’s of handsy fans, we’ve seen the footage of that dude trying to break into your house. It’s a miracle really that nothing has happened to you so far with only Faris by your side.’ 

‘He’s right, Nabi,’ Faris says from his spot by the door. 

‘Okay, maybe more than one bodyguard would be better,’ you say slowly. ‘But eight? I still think it’s a bit much, especially the undercover bit.’ 

Jisung shrugs and leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. ‘Maybe so, but at least you’ll know you will be safe.’ 

‘I guess,’ you mumble. 

‘Wanna go over the schedule for next week with me?’ Jisung asks. ‘Get your mind off all this for a bit?’ 

You jump up from the couch immediately and walk around the desk to stand next to him while he starts up the computer. 

****

About half an hour later you’re fairly confident Jisung will make a good assistant. He’s written down your interviews and gigs for the coming month and made a list of all the things he wanted to take care of before that. It was cute how he wanted to do it right. 

‘Knock, knock,’ a voice called out from the door and when you looked up you saw Chan and Changbin hugging Faris. 

‘How’s it going here?’ Chan smiles at you as he walks inside, his hands in his pocket. He probably tried to come off less intimidating like that, but it didn’t really work. 

‘Fine,’ you say, looking at the computer screen again. 

If you kept your eyes on him you’d probably drool all over your favorite studio outfit. That man was way too fine. 

‘It’s going great, Channie,’ Jisung says. ‘We’ve been getting along perfectly without the ice kings here.’ 

‘Don’t let them hear you call them that,’ Chan chuckles, moving to sit on the couch. ‘I hope we’ll be able to make this work, Y/N. I take great pride in my work and I’ll do anything I can to make you feel comfortable around us.’ 

Ugh. Why did he have to be so kind too? 

‘Thank you,’ you mutter, your eyes still on the screen. 

‘We’ll promise not to impose your privacy too much when we move in, but–’ 

Your head snaps up to look at him then and from the corner of your eyes you notice Jisung covering his face with his hands. 

‘What did you just say?’ you ask, standing up. ‘Please tell me I didn’t just hear you say the words moving in?’ 

‘Uhm,’ Chan tilts his head in confusion. ‘I thought you knew?’ 

‘Knew. What?’ you growl, your fingers balling up in fists. 

‘Oh boy,’ Jisung whispers and you turn to glare at him. 

‘You knew about this?’ 

‘Uhm, we all did? And we figured so would you,’ he shrugs, looking at you with big innocent eyes. 

You close your eyes, not at all immune to those brown doe eyes. If you keep looking at him you will stop being angry and you can’t do that. Not now. 

‘If somebody doesn’t tell me very soon what exactly this thing I’m supposed to know is, I will scream,’ you clench your jaw and take a shaky breath. 

This can’t be happening. They are not moving into your house with you. Yoona won’t do that to you, not after your talk this morning. Right? You close your eyes in frustration, already knowing the answer to your own question. She will. 

‘Such a drama queen,’ a new voice speaks up from the door and when you turn your head, already seeing red, you see Minho smirking at you. 

Changbin and Faris look concerned and when you look back at Chan, he actually looks like he’s pitying you. Fuck. 

‘Just say it already.’

‘Well, we’re supposed to move into your new house with you,’ Chan says, confirming it. 

Oh hell no. 

a/n: eeeeeeekkk I'm so excited for this series you have no idea!! I wasn't going to upload till tomorrow, but @staylovesmiley made me flip a coin and here I am at midnight, feeding you the first chapter.

Please let me know your thoughts <3

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[zepskies]

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart. 

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.” 

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.” 

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin. 

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear? 

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. 

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you. 

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest. 

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you. 

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore. 

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says. 

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

 Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

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[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Home for Christmas

Written for the day 20 of the @steddieholidaydrabbles, and round one of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Alone & Second Chances

Rated: G

Tags: Post-Vecna; Future fic; Everybody lives; Exes Steddie; Rock star Eddie; Single dad Steve; Reunions; Second chances

Notes: Continued from this one

It starts snowing again as Steve parks the car, flakes settling on the windscreen the second the wipers still. 

“Looks like a white Christmas,” he mutters. “You packed your hat and gloves, yeah?” 

Beside him, Leah scoffs. “Yes, Dad.”

“Just asking,” he says. The snow crunches under their feet as they get out to fetch her things from the trunk. “I don’t want a repeat of that one year where you forgot and caught pneumonia. Your mom never let me hear the end of it.” 

She scowls.

“That was three years ago. I’m fifteen, I can take care of myself.”

“Oh yeah?” He throws her duffel at her, grinning when she sags under the weight. “Is that why you left your phone charger on the table?” 

Her eyes go large. “Shit! Why didn’t you tell me? We have to- ugh, hilarious, you asshole!”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” Steve smiles, stuffing the charger he just pulled from his pocket into the front compartment of the duffel. Leah makes an annoyed sound as he ruffles her hair. “Now off you go. Say hi to your mother for me.” 

She grumbles something inaudible, but she does stomp off towards the house.

“Dad?”

Steve, already with one hand on the driver’s door, pauses. She’s standing by the porch steps, watching him with a furrowed brow. 

“You sure you don’t wanna come in? For a minute at least?” 

He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine, sweetie. You have a great time.” 

He waits just long enough to see the door open in front of her before he ducks back inside the car. When he turns the keys and the radio comes alive, Chris Rea is singing about driving home for Christmas. 

His phone buzzes. 

Steve stops pinching his nose and pulls it from his pocket, assuming it'll be Leah texting him about another thing she forgot. When he sees who it's actually from, his breath hitches.

Hey, big boy. You home? 

*

He's waiting in front of the apartment building when Steve rounds the corner. The snow is still shrouding the world in a curtain of white, and he’s wrapped in about three layers of clothing to protect himself - not only from the cold but also from prying eyes. Steve still knows it's him immediately. Knows from the lines of the tattoo poking out from his scarf, the one that covers the scars on his neck and jaw. Knows from the way he holds his cigarette. Knows from the restless shuffle of his boots in the fresh snow. 

It feels unreal, him standing here, outside Steve’s home. The last time they saw each other was in a crowded concert hall, surrounded by fans and cameras. The last time before that was in another town, in another life, seventeen years ago. Sharing one last cigarette on the porch of the old trailer, the setting sun basking the world in hazy oranges, tears drying on both their faces. It was for the better, Steve told himself with that iron conviction you only have at twenty-one, when you think you have life figured out and know all the answers.

He didn’t know shit, he thinks, forcing himself to get out of the car.

Eddie’s eyes flick up when he hears the door shut, and Steve can see how they grow round and large.

“Hey,” he says, a little breathless, a little shy. Not at all like a world-famous rock star who has toured the world and filled whole stadiums. So agonizingly much like the boy Steve used to know. “There you are.”

“Here I am,” Steve confirms, watching how Eddie grinds the cigarette under his boot. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Ah, y’know,” Eddie says vaguely. He reaches up a hand to tug on his hair, but comes up short because most of it is hidden under his hat. “I was in the neighborhood, so I thought-”

Steve flinches when he lurches forward. Even after all those years, he still doesn’t do well with sudden movements or loud noises. Eddie tilts his head, eyes large and expectant, and it takes Steve a second to realize that he’s holding something out to him. 

A gift bag. It has little Rudolphs on it, and shiny red ribbons for handles. Nestled inside is what looks like a band shirt, and on top of that- 

“Wait, are those concert tickets?” Steve blurts. “No way, I can’t accept these.” 

He raises his hands in defense, but Eddie steps right into his space and shoves the bag into them. Their fingers brush. 

“No takesies backsies,” Eddie winks. His smile is cheeky, but Steve imagines there’s regret in his eyes as he steps away. “They’re not for you, anyhow, your taste in music always sucked. They’re for Leah. Gotta nurture talent when you-” 

“She isn’t even here,” Steve protests weakly. “She’s spending Christmas with her mom.”  

Eddie’s eyebrows arch. “What, and you’re all alone?” 

Steve shrugs, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s for the better. She’s got her cousins there, and grandparents who actually care for her. I usually spend a day or two at Robin’s, but she’s taking Vickie to Paris this year, so-” 

“Oh no,” Eddie says, and starts walking towards the door. “Oh no, no, no. This won't do. I'll stay and keep you company.” 

“Wha-?” Steve stutters, following after him, gift bag in hand. “But you can't- … Don't you have- … What about Wayne?” 

Eddie shrugs. “I'll call him, he'll understand. Come on, Stevie, it'll be great. We can rent a movie, order Chinese. Just like old times.” 

Steve, already fumbling for his keys in his pocket, freezes. Eddie smiles back at him, bold and bright, but he imagines there's hope there. Hope and fear and seventeen years of unspoken things.

“Yeah,” he says, and unlocks the door. “Just like old times.”

Maybe they can have this, if only for one day. 

More holiday drabbles

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[deezbignutz]

REDACTED TUMBLR AWARDS INFO AAAGHHHHHHHH

okay, since majority chose to start from the top again (again, I am sorry for those who didn't want that), I'm gonna restate the rules, prize, category stuff and all that shit here in this post.

Da Rulez (literally just the same rules plaqii had):

you can nominate yourself for as many categories as you like

don't vote for yourself in the polls, play fair

only nominate yourself for categories you feel you fit, for example, if you don’t create Redacted art, don’t nominate yourself for the artist category

if you feel like someone should be nominated for a category, tag them! you cannot nominate anyone other than yourself

if you are tagged, you need to reply to confirm being nominated!

please try and put your nominations in replies and not reblogs!

if a character doesn’t get any nominations, then their will be no award, but if one person nominates themself for a character they will win the award, so make sure to nominate yourself!

if someone wins 2 or more polls, i’ll get them to choose and give the title to the runner up of the poll of the character they didn’t chose the title, cuz if the original winner didn’t pick that character then they ain’t that characters no1 can after all!

have fun with it! if you don’t win, don’t get too upset! this is just a load of silly fun!

Ze Prize (again, still the same prize plaqii had offered):

winners will get personalised userboxes! they’ll look something like this

(this was made by plaqii, not me. all the credit for this (and honestly the whole awards event) goes to them!!)

you can choose the colours (they’ll probably look better than this) (hopefully)

Le Categories:

these are the categories that are currently in place, but if there is a character or extra category you would like added, please reply what you would like added!

Creatives -

best artist

best fic writer

best hc writer

best ocs (not listener designs)

best listener designs (this is for listener designs :))) )

coolest listener/oc cassettes/icons

best roleplay blog (idk if this is the category to put it in, but oh welp)

‘THE’ fans (note - if a character doesn’t get any nominations, then their will be no award, but if one person nominates themselves for a character they will win the award, so make sure to nominate yourself!)-

Aaron

Anton

Asher

Avior

Azmidi

Blake

Brachium

Caelum

Cam

Christian

Damien

David

Elliot

Gavin

Geordi

Guy

Hush

Huxley

Ivan

James

Lasko

Milo

Ollie

Porter

Regulus

Sam

Vega

Vincent

misc -

the most 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

As stated in Da Rulez, please reply to this post to nominate yourself or tag others if you feel like they should nominate themselves!

You do NOT have to make a whole new nomination post for this, you can just use the one you made before. But if you really want to make another one or if you are in a new category you weren't in before, then feel free to make a new other one or just add more info into your old one.

this even might take a while for me to actually flesh out and stuff, so I'm sorry in advanced if there'll be any bumps along the way

I am only a mere man, and I also have a life outside of this (sadly), so pls understand if I end up making a few mistakes or run into any problems

NOMINATIONS WILL BE OPENED UNTIL DECEMBER 30TH (yes, i know then it would technically not be the '2024 Redacted Tumblr Awards', but that's okay we can discus that later)

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk :))))

[ninjatrashpanda]

Jingle All The Way (To The Damn ER)

Written for @bucktommywinterfest

Prompt: Holiday themed calls; Mistletoe Kiss

Rated: G

Tags: established relationship, fluff, holiday shenanigans

Read on AO3 here.

“Well, that’s…” Eddie said the moment the team had arrived and climbed out of the engine.

“Unfortunate,” Hen finished, her eyes fixed on the roof of the house they’d just pulled up to. Buck couldn’t exactly blame her. Up there, surrounded by absurd amounts of fake snow (and some of the most garish Christmas decorations Buck had ever seen), was a rather burly man in a Santa costume, his lower half stuck in a chimney, screaming and shouting out curse after curse. (Some seemingly not even in English, Buck noted. They sounded vaguely German to him, and for a moment he wondered if that made him racist.)

“That’s gotta be a new one,” Chim muttered, squinting up at the struggling Santa. “I mean, we’ve seen plenty of Santas in sticky situations, but this? This takes the fruitcake.”

How did things like these even happen? How did someone look at a chimney and say ‘Oh, yes, I’ll slide down there, no biggie!’ It was absolutely asinine, so completely unhinged and idiotic that Buck’s brain hardly was able to comprehend the thought process it must’ve taken this guy to end up where he did.

Then again, Buck probably really shouldn’t judge people for making harebrained decisions.

“Do you think he realizes that he probably would’ve busted his ankles if he’d actually slid down there?” Eddie asked, trying (and failing) to keep a straight face. The team’s radios crackled with a faint background hum, the absurdity of the scene almost enough to make them forget they were here on an actual call.

Buck tilted his head, stepping forward, his eyes narrowed. The more he looked at the scene, the more unreal it seemed. He decided to reconsider his earlier thought. He was allowed to judge, cause even he wasn’t lacking foresight this hard. “Is it just me, or does that chimney look way too small for him to have even considered crawling through it in the first place?”

“It’s not just you,” Bobby, who now rounded the engine to join the team, said, reaching for his radio. “Dispatch, Engine 118 is on scene. We have one victim, male, age seems to be mid to late forties. Victim appears to be stuck. And dressed as Santa.”

There was a pause before Dispatch answered, the crackle of static barely covering what Buck could’ve sworn was a snort of laughter. “Copy that, 118,” came Josh’s slightly strained response. Buck noticed Bobby side-eyeing his radio, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame Josh. He’d be laughing too if he wasn’t on this call professionally. “Please confirm: is the scene secure, and do you need additional resources?”

“I don’t know, maybe a team of reindeer to pull him out?” Chim called up toward the house, earning him a glare from Hen, who was probably already assessing what kind of injuries this guy could’ve suffered from…well, this.

“Scene’s secure,” Bobby said, ignoring Chim’s antics, and exchanging another couple of words with Josh. Then, he turned to the crew. “Buck, Eddie, grab the ladder and all the lube we have. Hen, Chim, get ready to check this guy out as soon as they get him down here.”

Buck shook his head as he jogged over to the rig to get the lube, their victim’s voice calling out every swear under the sun. “You know, for a guy playing Santa, he’s not exactly spreading holiday cheer up there.”

From the roof, Santa’s voice rang out, muffled but clearly annoyed. “I can hear you, you know!”

“Good!” Chim called back, a slightly catty edge to his voice. “Then you’ll be delighted to know we’re here to rescue your jolly behind!”

Eddie followed Buck to grab the ladder while Hen remained firmly planted, hands on her hips, staring up at Santa like he was her children’s math homework she was trying to help them with. “How did you not realize this is a terrible idea before you got halfway in?”

“I bet you he lost a dare,” Chim said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “There’s no way this guy just looked at that chimney and thought, ‘Yeah, I can make it.’”

Raising an eyebrow, Hen turned toward Chim and let out a small huff, “I’m sorry, but should you of all people make fun of that? Should I remind you of why we call you ‘Chimney?’”

Chim’s grin faltered for just a second, and Hen’s smirk grew triumphant. “Low blow, Hen,” he retorted, though his tone was light. “But, for the record, I didn’t willingly wedge myself in anything. I was an innocent victim of faulty construction.”

“Sure, Chim,” Hen said, her tone making it clear she didn’t believe him. She turned her attention back to the roof, where Santa continued to struggle, his efforts achieving nothing but a faint creaking noise from the chimney that made everyone on the ground cringe.

“Why am I not surprised?” Buck muttered, setting up the ladder and turning to Eddie. “Come on. Let’s get Santa out of there before he Tim Allens himself.”

Eddie planted his hands on the ladder to keep it steady as Buck began to climb. “Think he’ll go on the naughty list for this?”

“Not if we save him before Hen smacks some sense into him,” Buck called down, his voice lighthearted as he worked his way up toward the roof.

From below, Hen sighed and shook her head, her exasperation at Santa finally getting to her. “One of these days, I’m going to get through a shift without an incident that makes me question humanity.”

“Today is not that day,” Eddie replied, barely stifling his grin.

“Yeah, well,” Hen said, watching Buck hoist himself onto the roof, “let’s just hope Santa’s dignity is the only thing that got bruised tonight.”

As Buck reached the chimney, he peered down at the man’s awkwardly wedged body. This was worse than he had expected. Like he’d thought, the man’s stomach was plugging up the chimney entirely, but he hadn’t predicted the small cracks that were forming all around the top of the shaft, some of which already ran up to halfway down the sides. “Okay, big guy, hang tight. We’re gonna get you out of here, but try not to move too much.”

“Believe me,” Santa grumbled, a deadpan expression on his face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well, that much is obvious,” Buck said under his breath, before reaching for his radio. “Uh, Cap? Send Eddie up here with the tools. This is a two-man job at least and the lube’s not gonna cut it.”

Chim’s voice chimed in immediately. “Santa’s had one too many cookies, huh?”

“Not helping, Chim,” Buck shot back, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to the task at hand.

This was going to be a long shift.

🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄

“So this is not what we usually get called in for.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow at the, frankly, ridiculous scene in front of him. Somehow, a guy on skis had managed to not only crash into the giant Christmas tree that had been set up right by the main lodge, the guy had somehow managed to get himself completely tangled up in the lights, which still blinked in all colors of the rainbow.

In all his life as a soldier, a firefighter and now a rescue pilot, Tommy had never seen something this idiotic before.

“How did this even happen?” he asked the manager of the resort, a woman who appeared to be in her late thirties, who wore a sharp, dark grey pantsuit. To her credit, she seemed just as exasperated as he felt.

“I wish I knew,” the manager replied, pressing two fingers to her temple as if she were fighting off a migraine. “All I got was a frantic call from one of the lodge staff saying there was ’a skier emergency’ and that I should ‘bring someone who knows how to untangle knots.’” She gestured toward the blinking, flailing mess of a man. “I didn’t expect this.”

Tommy let out a long sigh and turned back to the scene. The skier, who was now groaning softly, looked like a particularly unfortunate ornament hung by an overzealous child. The man’s goggles were askew, his skis were pointing in entirely different directions, and his jacket, a garish neon green, made him look like an elf who’d lost a fight with Santa’s workshop.

“Is he…conscious?” Tommy asked, squinting.

“Yep, sure is,” García, one of the paramedics of the 217 he’d flown up here said. She straightened up and pulled her gloves on tighter. “Hey, Kinard, can you get me a backboard? I feel like we’re gonna need to tie this guy down even if he somehow managed not to break his spine.”

“On it,” Tommy replied with a sigh, and headed back to his chopper. He still wasn’t sure just how this could’ve possibly happened. He had a sinking suspicion that alcohol had played a part, but he kept that to himself, instead silently grabbing the backboard from the back of the helicopter.

He trudged back through the snow, (If the way the artificial stuff felt under his boots was anything to go on, he would absolutely despise real snow.) a soft hum under his breath. The resort’s cheery Christmas music (now an unfortunate backdrop to this circus) had invaded his brain and wouldn’t leave it for probably the rest of his shift (or a week later. Or a month. Or a goddamn year).

As Tommy handed the backboard over to García, he crouched down to get a better look at the skier. “Alright, buddy, you with us?” he asked, his voice sharp but not unkind.

The man groaned again and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “The tree came out of nowhere.”

Tommy blinked. “The tree came out of nowhere?” He exchanged a look with García, who rolled her eyes and smirked, biting her lip.

“I swear it did,” the skier slurred, his head lolling slightly to the side. “One minute, skiing. Next minute, tree.”

Tommy sighed, a sound that felt like it came straight from his soul. “Yeah, I’m sure the tree leapt right out to grab you. Happens all the time.” He shot a glance at the manager, who snorted softly but quickly disguised it as a cough. She was clearly trying to keep her professional veneer intact, but her expression betrayed her amusement.

García got to work, carefully cutting away a few strands of the blinking lights that had wound tightly around the man’s torso. “This guy’s tangled worse than my Abuela’s Christmas lights,” she muttered.

“Don’t disrespect your Abuela,” Tommy quipped. “At least she didn’t knock over the tree.”

The skier let out a low groan. “I’m never drinking eggnog again…”

Ah, there it was. Tommy resisted the urge to say, called it, and focused on the task at hand. “Look, pal, we’re gonna get you out of here, but I need you to stay still. Can you do that?”

The skier didn’t respond directly, but he gave a lazy thumbs-up that didn’t inspire much confidence.

“Great,” García muttered. “Kinard, help me stabilize him before we move him.”

Tommy stepped in to assist, holding the backboard steady as García and the other paramedic carefully maneuvered the man’s limbs. The lights resisted, clinging stubbornly to the skier as if they were part of some cosmic punishment for his sins against Christmas decor. It took some creative maneuvering and a few choice curses from García before the last of the lights finally snapped free.

Once the skier was secured to the backboard, Tommy stood up and dusted the snow off his pants. “Alright, let’s load him up. We’ll fly him down to the hospital for a once-over.”

The manager stepped closer, looking at the still-blinking lights strewn across the snow like abandoned tinsel. “What about…all this?” She gestured vaguely at the scene of destruction.

Tommy shrugged. “I’d say leave it. It’ll make for a great story. ‘The Tree Incident of 2024.’ You could make it an annual thing, build some buzz.”

The manager shot him a flat look. “I think we’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself.” He turned back toward the helicopter, falling in line behind the paramedics carrying the backboard. “Let’s get Bode Miller here some help before he decides to start singing carols.”

As they walked, the skier managed to lift his head just enough to croak out one final, utterly sincere question: “But…did I win?”

Tommy couldn’t stop himself. He grinned. “Oh, buddy. You definitely won.”

🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄

“Dispatch, this is engine 118,” Bobby spoke into his radio, snapping the rest of the crew into Business Mode. “We’re pulling up on scene.”

The truck came to a halt outside a large community center, which seemed almost normal and boring. Except for the plumes of smoke coming out of one of the windows. Buck groaned and rolled his eyes. He hoped this wasn’t an actual fire, or at least that the window had already been opened by the time it started, because he didn’t know how he’d react if he found out someone in there had opened a window on a fire.

“Copy that, 118,” the dispatcher’s voice (Maddie this time) came through their radios as they all rushed to grab their gear. “Community Christmas Baking Event, one of the ovens caught fire. The 217 is on scene, Captain Chen is IC, he’ll give you more details.”

Buck’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of the 217, but he quickly shrugged it off. Sure, running into his boyfriend on the job would be nice, but there were more pressing matters at hand. Besides, Tommy was on helicopter duty today anyway. He was way up in the sky, riding his bird through the clouds and saving lives by bringing victims to the hospital far faster than an ambo ever could.

It brought a sigh to Buck’s lips as he jogged after Eddie and into the building at Captain Chen’s command, the same love struck one he always seemed to sigh when he thought about Tommy and his effortless coolness, and big heart, and dashing good looks. (And especially the cleft. God, did he love that cleft!) Less than a year ago, he hadn’t even known he was into men, and now here he was, happily, knowingly in love with the very same one who had blasted his closet door open with all the force of the hurricane they’d flown into when they had met.

The smell of burnt sugar and smoke hit Buck like a fist to the face as soon as he and Eddie entered the community center, every thought of Tommy instantly pushed to the back of his mind as he went into rescue mode. Eddie was already barking orders to one of the event organizers, a frazzled woman in a holiday sweater that had seen better days, while Buck took in the scene.

The lobby was a chaos of flour-dusted people, from crying children to panicked adults to people from the 217 trying to evacuate everyone, and a steady stream of smoke curling out of the kitchen at the far end of the hall. Buck followed Eddie through the hall, their boots clomping against the polished floor as they approached the kitchen door, quickly checking every frazzled bystander for injuries before urging them to leave the building already.

“Cap, this is Diaz, we’ve got thick smoke but no visible flames yet,” Eddie reported over his shoulder. “Kitchen is at the end of the main hallway. Looks like the sprinkler system hasn’t gone off.”

“At least the fire’s contained, then,” Bobby’s voice crackled through the radio. “Chen said two of his men are already in the kitchen, Hayes and Kinard. Assist them however they need.”

Buck’s brain came to a screeching halt. Kinard? Did Bobby just say Kinard?! His heart thudded in his chest, and he nearly tripped over his own feet, catching himself just before Eddie noticed his sudden shift in demeanor. Kinard. Bobby had said Kinard. Tommy’s here. The realization brought a wide grin to Buck’s face at the thought of seeing his boyfriend in action, all big, and tough, and competent. He didn’t have time to process it, though, as he and Eddie reached the kitchen door, where the thick haze of smoke was quickly becoming stifling.

Eddie pushed it open, and they were greeted by chaos. Two firefighters from the 217 were already inside, one, Hayes according to his turnout jacket, directing a fire extinguisher toward an oven that was the apparent source of the problem, while the other worked to move large trays of baked goods away from the immediate area. The oven in question was blackened, with flames licking at its edges, a few stray flames dotted around the floor.

“Buckley! Diaz!” Hayes called out, practically bombarding the oven with foam. “We could use another set of hands on this.”

“On it,” Eddie shouted briskly, moving toward him. Buck’s eyes, however, had already met the other firefighters, and for a moment, it was as if everything around them didn’t even exist.

There he was, helmet on, jacket slightly singed, cleft chin invisible under the oxygen mask, but just knowing it was there and waiting for him to come kiss it made Buck weak in the knees. Tommy’s eyes widened in surprise, but he recovered quickly. “Evan,” he called, and Buck couldn’t put his finger on why, but his voice sounded…hot. Hotter. Or something. He wasn’t sure what it was, just that he really wanted to tear the turnouts off of Tommy, fire and smoke be damned. “What are the odds?”

Buck managed a lopsided grin (that he knew Tommy would’ve loved if he only could have seen it!), his heart pounding a mile a minute. Tommy, all professional, and sooty and goddammit, Buck could almost smell the musk radiating off of him from over here. “Right?” he somehow brought out with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “It seems so unlikely!”

Tommy gave a quick shake of his head, exasperation evident in the way his eyes crinkled even under the helmet, but there was an unmistakable fondness too. “Focus up, Buckley,” he said, and if Buck wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of a smirk tugging at the edges of his voice. “There’s still an oven fire to handle, and I’m pretty sure Captain Nash won’t appreciate me distracting his star firefighter.”

“Oh, I’m the star now?” Buck shot back, already moving to sort out the flames on the ground while Eddie and Hayes double-timed the burning oven. He could feel the warmth of Tommy’s presence nearby, but there was a job to do here, so he couldn’t even bask in it.

“Always have been,” Tommy replied, the words so casual Buck nearly choked on the laugh that bubbled out of him, all while Tommy had already turned his attention back to the task at hand with all the casualness the situation allowed. It was like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Buck’s overactive heart, and that only made him more feral inside.

“Hey!” Eddie barked, snapping Buck back into focus. “Quit flirting and help us!”

Right. Fire. Job. Professionalism.

Finished with the smaller fires, Buck moved to assist Hayes and Eddie with the oven, which turned out to be a much bigger problem than they had anticipated. Together, they aimed for the stubborn flames that were trying to escape the oven, working in tandem to snuff them out. The smoke was thick and cloying, stinging Buck’s eyes even through his mask, but the blaze was already starting to die down. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tommy check the rest of the appliances for damage and ensure no other hotspots could reignite, causing another swell of pure affection and, frankly, borderline horniness to rush through Buck’s body.

The team worked efficiently, their movements seamless and practiced. Within minutes, the immediate danger was contained, the oven reduced to a smoldering mess. Eddie called it in to Bobby while Hayes and Tommy began assessing the kitchen’s ventilation system to clear the remaining smoke.

Buck busied himself by checking out (and mourning) the remaining trays of half-burnt cookies and pies, but his mind kept wandering to Tommy. It was surreal seeing him here, grounded instead of flying high above the chaos. Buck had always admired the cool confidence Tommy exuded in the air, but now he was seeing it up close, in action on the ground.

Once the kitchen was declared safe, the teams began packing up their gear. The smoke was thinning, though the acrid smell of burnt sugar lingered in the air. Buck caught Tommy leaning against the wall, his helmet tucked under one arm, looking as composed as ever despite the soot smudged across his cheek.

“So,” Buck said, sidling up to him, “what’s it like working with your feet on the ground for a change?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, that smirk reappearing. “Not bad. Less turbulence, more smoke. And I get to run into you.”

Buck chuckled, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks despite himself. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“Yeah, I had to fill in for Callahan. Broke his arm on a call this morning,” Tommy said casually. “Guess I was meant to be here.” He tilted his head, his gaze softening. “You okay? You look a little... out of it.”

“I’m fine,” Buck said quickly, though his heart still hadn’t entirely settled. “It’s just that you don’t meet an absolutely irresistible beast while out on a call.”

Tommy’s smirk grew. “Ah, so I made you look like a lovesick puppy. Figures. I have that effect on people.”

Eddie’s voice cut through their moment. “Buck! We’re wrapping up. Let’s go.”

Buck flinched at the sudden intrusion of his and Tommy’s bubble, and he quickly shot his partner a venomous look, (not that Eddie seemed to care much, judging by the exasperated expression) before turning back to Tommy.

“Duty calls,” he said with a shrug, but he hesitated before stepping away. “I’ll see you later?”

Tommy gave him a small, private smile, the kind that made Buck’s heart flutter in a way that still felt new and thrilling. And then, without a warning, he placed his fingers under Buck’s jaw, his thumb brushing over his chin, before pulling him in.

Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss, one that sent a shockwave of warmth through Buck’s body. Almost instinctively, Buck grabbed Tommy’s hips to pull him closer, any space being between them making him feel like he was suffocating. He craved the heat of Tommy’s body, the firmness of his chest, even the smell of smoke and burned gingerbread in his hair.

Despite Buck’s excruciating hunger, he didn’t try to deepen the kiss beyond the chaste, soft peck it was. He wanted to, of course, the craving to rip Tommy’s turnouts off never having gone away, but he knew none of that was something they could do right now. Even just this was highly unprofessional and probably shouldn’t ever have happened, though Buck couldn’t possibly care less about it. His hot boyfriend was hot, and he had initiated smooch time, and Buck was only a man.

Tommy pulled back after a moment, his smirk softening into something tender, and Buck’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes found Tommy’s watching him with that familiar sparkle of pure, unadulterated love.

“Uh, what was that?” Buck chuckled. He tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help the smile that started to creep onto his face. “That wasn’t very…I don’t think Captain Chen and Captain Nash would approve of…”

“I think they would,” Tommy cut him off with a shrug. “You know, just this once. We were legally obligated to, after all.”

At Buck’s quizzical look, he simply pointed upward. Buck followed the gesture, tilting his head back to look up. And his heart nearly stopped. Hanging above them, just barely visible amidst the smoke and the still-swirling chaos of the kitchen, was a small sprig of mistletoe. It was a little toasty, but most of it, including the shiny, bright red bow tied around it, had miraculously survived.

He blinked at it, then back at Tommy, who was now grinning fully, his teeth flashing white despite the soot smudged on his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Buck muttered, feeling his cheeks heat up even more. “Mistletoe? In the middle of a kitchen?”

Tommy shrugged, his expression infuriatingly nonchalant. “Rules are rules, babe.”

Buck let out a half-laugh, half-scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.” Tommy repliplied, wiggling his eyebrow. And really, Buck couldn’t argue with that logic, but before he could respond, Eddie’s voice echoed sharply through the kitchen doorway.

“Buck! Seriously, let’s go!”

Buck groaned, giving Tommy one last lingering look. “Duty calls. Again. I’ll see you later?”

“Of course,” Tommy said, his voice warm, his smirk softening into something gentler. “Go save the world, babe.”

Buck pulled Tommy into one more short hug and planted a quick peck to his lips before turning around and jogging over to the door, always aware of the fond expression Tommy watched him with. As he followed Eddie back out the building and to the truck, he couldn’t keep the grin off his face, even as Eddie shot him a knowing look.

“Don’t,” Buck said preemptively, waving his hand around. “Not. A. Word.”

Eddie smirked. “Didn’t say anything.”

But he didn’t need to. Buck knew what his own face looked like right now, the power Tommy had over him no secret to him. It wasn’t like he cared much, either. He’d been the happiest he had ever been this past year, and if this continued, well.

He wasn’t going to complain.

[dame-zoom-a-lot]

Peach Pie

Here's my fic for @steddieexchange for @stitchdfox (thanks for the prompts! This was a blast to write) It's also a prompt fill for @steddiebingo round one -- two prompts: lake, and fluff Rating: EXPLICIT Tags: Phone sex, Omega!Steve, Alpha!Eddie, a/b/o dynamics, blow jobs, dry humping, praise kink, aftercare, fluff and smut, friends to lovers, strangers to lovers, platonic soulmates robin buckley & steve harrington WC: 9969 Thank you so much @fkinkindagauche and @talanashta for the beta and all the omegaverse advice. The phone sex scene was largely inspired by WabiSabiPapi's Pillow Talk. A lot of the scent descriptions were inspired by how Gauche handled it in Hot Knife

Read the entire fic on Ao3

“He shoots! And he…” Steve mutters, willing the Swedish Fish he just threw to land in Robin’s mouth. It’s almost there…

Then Robin moves two inches to the left and the candy hits her on the cheek.

“Robs. It was right there! Why?”

“You try holding still when there’s something flying at your face!”

“How am I supposed to get this in your mouth without making it fly in your face first?”

“Like you’re any better at getting it in your mouth,” Robin mutters, gesturing to the pile of sweets strewn about the floor.

It’s a slow day at Family Video. Slow enough that they’re trying to figure out some party tricks to impress Vickie. It’s not going great. Steve sighs and crosses ‘food catching’ off the list.

“Ok. The list is getting kind of short. You sure you don’t want to try keg stands?”

“Yeah right, Vickie’s going to be so impressed when I fall and break my neck.”

“It could be a good bonding experience you know? Let her take care of you and everything.”

“Nuh uh, you’re going to be switching out my bed pans.”

The bell rings before Steve can think of a retort. Vickie walks in with her usual bright smile. The patch Robin gave her sits prominently on her right shoulder. Robin erps. Steve tickles her to give her some cover for the deep blush on her face.

“Hey,” Vickie says shyly.

“Hi,” Robin stammers. Steve backs up a little when Vickie comes up to the counter. He and Robin practiced for this. She even made him put on a little red wig so she can really immerse herself. And yet.

Steve watches the two of them awkwardly stammer out a few stilted lines about band, frustrated beyond belief. He knows Robin can talk to Vickie. He’s seen her talk to Vickie. Besides, Steve knows Vickie also likes Robin. Why else would she be renting a movie a day ? Who watches that many movies? Weirdos, or someone trying to get into the movie shop employee’s over-sized pants.

“So Vickie, what ‘cha doing this weekend?” Steve says, unable to stand it anymore.

“I…” Vickie takes a beat, like she’s searching for a cool answer. “I’m going diving,” she says.

“What a coincidence,” Steve says with a smile, “so were we.”

“We are?” Robin asks. “I mean, we are,” she corrects herself.

“That’s… that’s great. So we can… if you don’t mind me butting in that is,” Vicky mutters out with a bright smile.

“Oh please, we’d be honored to have your butt—ing in,” Robin says. Vickie laughs, somehow charmed. Steve smiles and backs off to go pretend to organize the sci-fi section now that the two are talking about diving and weekends. A shameful part of him chafes at the thought of Robin actually getting together with Vickie. There’s going to be a lot less sleepovers, movie nights, and going up to the city. Or maybe Robin will let him tag along as a forever third wheel. Whatever it is, as long as Robin’s happy…

Steve’s wallowing so deep in self-pity that he misses Robin coming up to stand behind him. He shrieks at the sudden sharp finger on his pits.

“Ouch, my ears,” Robin complains as if it wasn’t all her fault.

“Jesus, warn a guy next time,” Steve gasps. Robin doesn’t give him a second to catch his breath. She pulls him into a tight hug instead, squealing loud enough to make his ears ring. “I’ll take it that you have plans?” Steve asks, laughing.

“Yeah dingus,” Robin says, letting him go so she can punch him in the arm, “thanks, I guess.”

“Yep, so I should have a horrible stomach flu the day before and not show up right? Let you get some quality time?”

“Yes, yes, but actually…” Robin says hesitantly.

“Actually what? Robs, you’re not asking me to come to your first date are you?”

“Well the thing is…” Robin draws a circle with her toes, face flushed, “i’mafraidoffish,” she finishes.

“What was that?”

“I’m…” Robin takes a deep gulping breath. “I’m afraid of fish.”

“You had fish with me? Last night?” Steve asks, flabbergasted. How did he not know this before now?

“Right but it was dead… It’s the live ones. Can’t stand the thought of them staring at me,” Robin says with a shudder.

“Robs, but you’ve… dived before,” Steve says, “when my leg cramped up?”

“That wasn’t a dive,” Robin retorts, “that was just me jumping into lake water. Besides, I was too focused on, you know, thinking you might die?”

A wave of intolerably strong fondness washes over Steve. Sure, he was touched back then when Robin threw herself into the cold lake water with zero hesitation. But he didn’t know that she apparently had a phobia of fish in waters, and that lake was full of them. “Robs…”

“Nope, nope, zip it. You sap.” Robin says, pinching his mouth shut with two fingers. “That’s not important. What’s important is, you need to figure out how to make me comfortable with diving.”

“I don’t know… close your eyes or something?”

“But Vicky’s going to point out cool fish and stuff to me and I need to enjoy it! Not freak out about the thing looking at me!”

“I don’t…” Steve looks around the shelves as if it might give him an answer. “What if… what if we practice?” He finally asks.

“Practice?”

“Yeah. Let’s… we’ve got six days right? We’ll go diving every day. Get you used to it. Then by the time you’re going on a date with Vicky you’ll be a pro,” Steve says, getting more confident with every word.

“You think a week is enough?” Robin asks quietly.

“Yeah! You’ve never actually had fish staring at you right?”

“No, they’re usually dead by the time they get to me.”

“Yeah! So you just need to try it out first,” Steve takes her hand and presses it to his heart, amplifies his scent so it can waft over her. “Look, you already said we’re the same person. I’m not scared. You won’t be scared. You get it right?”

“Dingus,” Robin says, lightly slapping his chest and squirming her hand away. “Alright. Operation sleeping with the fishes is a go.”

********* The dive shop is tiny and efficient. Every available inch is stuffed with various… stuff that Steve figures must be important. The guy at the counter is strumming something nice on a guitar. He smells like campfire and something Steve can’t quite name. Whatever it is, it’s loosening up the anxious knot in Steve’s chest.

He put on a brave face, but honestly, he’s as nervous as Robin. Sure, he was on the swim team, but that was in a pool. The last time he tried swimming in the open waters, he got a leg cramp and Robin had to pull him out. He hadn’t gone into a natural body of water since. That’s why he got here first, to scope things out and figure out how everything’s going to go. Otherwise, she’ll smell his nerves, then he’ll smell her nerves and it’s going to make him more nervous then her more nervous and so on and on, creating a flywheel of shit until they’re both a puddle on the floor. But he’s going to be ready. He’ll talk to that dude and he’ll make a plan. Steve takes the time to look around the cramped shop before clearing his throat.

The guy starts. “Hey! Welcome to Lover’s Dive,” he says, spinning a little too hard on his chair. He ends up turning himself a full 360 degrees and has to adjust, cussing under his breath. Steve stifles a giggle. “Sorry, let’s try that again,” he mutters, facing Steve. “Welcome to Lover’s dive!… Harrington?”

“Eddie?” Steve gasps. “Mrs. Click’s class right?”

“Aww you remembered little ol’ me?” Eddie says, batting his lashes and flashing his alpha canines. “Funny. I don’t remember us exchanging a single word.”

“And yet, you remembered me,” Steve mutters, pleased but flustered. Of course he remembers Eddie. Loud. Bright. Sauntering on lunch tables and daring his basketball team to come and bite him. Tommy hated him. Steve couldn’t look away.

“I thought you moved?” Steve asks.

“I did,” Eddie says with a shrug, “but…” he clears his throat. “Anyway, I’m back. Wayne’s friend wanted someone to man the shop while he dives in the Carribeans.”

“That’s nice of you,” Steve says. Eddie responds to that with a big, dimpled grin.

“So how can I help?” he asks, “you just here for equipment? Or you want the guided tour?”

“Guided tour please,” Steve asks. “I’m going to be coming around quite a bit actually. Robin and I were hoping to get better at diving.”

“Robin? Robin Buckley from band?”

“Yep. You knew her?”

“Yeah, great musician. Gotta say Harrington, your tastes have changed since we last passed each other in those halls,” Eddie says, leaning forward. “You be good to her. You hear?” He pantomimes cocking a rifle.

“We’re not dating,” Steve says laughing.

“Is that a yet?” Eddie asks with a gleam in his eyes. “This the old Harrington special?”

Steve groans. “Dude, we’re not in high school anymore. You really want to harp about the old ‘King Steve’?” he says, making air quotes, “very conformist of you, just saying.”

Eddie makes a strangled noise and clutches at his chest. Steve leans forward, alarmed, as Eddie sinks to the floor.

"Eddie?" Steve whispers. Did he kill him?

Then Eddie shoots back up with a giant dimpled smile. "It's me! Back from the dead after killing the old Eddie, a judgmental conformist." He awkwardly climbs over the counter, so he can get right into Steve's space. There's only dimples and campfire. Steve stops himself from trilling just in time. "So, my friend, let's do that again. Welcome to Lover's Dive! What glorious times are you hoping to have with your friend in these exalted waters?"

Eddie’s eyes are wild. His hair is even wilder. He’s put on some muscles after high school. The veins on his forearms flex. But that lightness, the refusal to quiet himself down and fit in to a nice little mold… that’s all still there. Steve feels the blood rushing to his ears…

“Munson. He’s my best friend,” Robin snarls from the door, “don’t fuck with him.”

“Noted, Lady Buckley,” Eddie says, exaggeratedly backing away from Steve.

“We were fine,” Steve says hurriedly. Robin scared the shit out of Dustin that one time he got too snippy about Steve being slow to read. He knows Robin wouldn’t hesitate to drive an air tank into Eddie’s head and he does not need that right now.

“So, what can I get you? Friend birds?” Eddie asks.

“Your finest tour if you please,” Steve says, trying to remember all weird fantasy English stuff that Munson and the kids seemed to get such a kick out of.

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 81

Hello! Day 70 was just posted at the time I’m writing this! I’ve been patiently awaiting the time when I can start scheduling these again because the last stretch of 81-100 is where I should (Assumedly) have the most to yap about.

So today I bring you, Vampire Junkan! The final one in the project, though I’m not sure if it counts with the rest given y’know . . . I finally drew Junko as the Vampire! Took me 80 fuckin days but I finally did the natural human instinct!

I love Vampire Mikan, you all know this, she’s a tiny tiny subversion of the expectations one has when hearing “Vampire Junkan” and playing around with her as a concept has brought me much joy. From the story potential, to the cute outfits, to Junko’s interactions with concept, to making her buff in what was probably a fit of madness set off by the amount of times I’ve drawn these characters. However I also just love Vampire Yuri in general, so while I have a preference for who’s who in relationships like these, generally you can make any member of the relationship the vampire and I’m still winning. 

I wasn’t sure when but during the project I knew that eventually I wanted to draw Junko as the Vampire at least once just to try it out, whether it would actually be in the event wasn’t decided until this point. All I remember about this ones creation specifically is that I was really, really stressed about something (I don’t remember) so that lead me to unconsciously just put way more effort into this one to keep my head on straight (or gay, I guess). I was in a fuckin trance drawing Junko’s hair that much I know for sure. It also has some of my favorite eyes that I've drawn across the whole project!

For a Vampire Junko based AU I’mma be real, Kayleen’s Oneshot inspired the previous Vampire AU with Mikan, this one is practically just me adapting her take on the idea. It’s not an outright adaptation like other pieces in this project just by nature of I didn’t take the time to try and meticulously recreate a scene from it or something similar. So this pic is multifaceted, it can be fanart for a specific fic, it’s own AU, or-

Another weird dream Junko had in the normal Vampire AU! Because making Junko have weird dreams is wonderful!

Will I draw more Vampire Junko in the future? . . . Maybe????? I quite frankly don’t have any ideas for it right now, however nothing is ever off the table entirely! For the time being I’ll leave that idea in the hands of any interested parties who’d probably be able to do a lot more with Vampire Junko as an idea specifically, I win no matter what because if someone goes through with it that’s more Vampire Yuri AND more Junkan!

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[fkinkindagauche]

All I Ever Wanted Help With Was You

Finally time to post my fic for @steddieexchange! It's for Dorian (Sal3m_hfc on AO3). Hope you enjoy!

Also using this for a @steddiebingo 2025 Round One prompt, Vampire AU.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 8,651 | Tags: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Vampire Eddie Munson, Human Steve Harrington, Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, There Was Only One Bed, Virgin Eddie Munson, Top Eddie Munson, Bottom Steve Harrington, First Time, Blood Drinking, Size Kink, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Jason Carver Being an Asshole

Summary: Steve agrees to help Eddie out by pretending to be his human companion for a vampire gathering.

Read the whole thing on AO3.

“Steve. Stevie. My dearest friend. I need your help,” Eddie pleads, slumping onto the couch next to Steve. 

They’re at Robin’s place getting ready to watch a movie. Eddie is, as usual, all up in Steve’s space. Steve refuses to shift away from him. He won’t give Eddie the satisfaction of knowing he makes Steve uncomfortable. 

“With what, Eddie?” Steve sighs, wondering what the hell Eddie’s gotten himself into this time. 

“There’s this thing happening the weekend before Christmas,” Eddie says. “A vampire thing, with the coven I’m trying to join. It’s some sort of Midwinter festival, a weekend of, like, sensual partying I guess? At this estate up in Michigan.”

“How could I possibly help you with that?” Steve asks, puzzled.

“Well, see. I got invited by this vampire I met last week, Chrissy,” Eddie explains, putting his hand on Steve’s thigh. That’s fine. Steve can be normal about this. “She’s kind of a higher-up in the coven leadership. But I don’t wanna go alone, because the invitation specifically gives me a plus one, for a human or vampiric companion. And I don’t wanna be that one guy who shows up companionless.”

“A companion… is that, like, a date?” Steve is even more perplexed.

“Typically it does connote a sexual relationship,” Eddie concedes, “unless the vampire is asexual. Which I am most certainly not.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Steve is well aware that Eddie’s not asexual. Eddie tells all of them, at length, about the fantastic sex he has with the people he feeds from. He says that vampire bites are an aphrodisiac, and his willing victims can’t help but jump his bones afterwards.

“You want me to… find you a companion? I’m not a pimp, Eddie,” Steve grumbles. 

“No!” Eddie yells. “I want you to pretend to be my companion. You’ve got the whole pretty rich boy thing going. It would look good, showing them I could net someone like you.” 

Steve blushes, unable to hold back his reaction to the backhanded praise from Eddie. He fixates on the word “pretend” to make sure he doesn’t get his hopes up. “I have to work,” Steve protests. 

Eddie groans. “Don’t you get, like, vacation time? Isn’t that a human thing?”

“You were a human one year ago,” Steve points out. Eddie has a tendency to talk like he’s a decades-old vampire who’s seen things, and Steve always likes to bring him down a notch.

Eddie waves a hand dismissively. “I’ve forgotten many of the human traditions since then.”

Steve snorts. “If you can get Keith to give me the time off, I’ll come with you.” He doesn’t think that’s even remotely possible. Keith hates Steve, and loves to make him work on weekends, so he figures it’s a good way to say no without having to actually say no.

Eddie nods. “Challenge accepted,” he says, squeezing Steve’s thigh and getting up to go help Robin with the popcorn. If Steve has to adjust himself following Eddie’s hand’s proximity to his upper thigh after that, no one needs to know.

Eddie somehow convinces Keith to give Steve the time off. Steve suspects drugs were involved, but Eddie claims he’s just that persuasive. Steve, who had been sure there was no way he’d get a whole weekend off at the last minute, has backed himself into a corner.

“But… what are we even going to do the whole weekend?” Steve whines after Eddie tells him the news. 

“There’s going to be activities,” Eddie says vaguely.

“What kind? Vampiric mini golf?” Steve quips, hands on hips.

“I’m not actually sure,” Eddie mutters, looking thoughtful.

“You’re taking me to a vampire convention and you don’t even know what’s going to happen there?” 

“Aww, don’t be scared, Stevie,” Eddie teases. “I’ll protect you from all the vampires.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Eddie, you’re a fledgling.”

Eddie raises a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me. I’ll have you know I’m an extremely precocious vampire. Wise and powerful beyond my years.”

Steve snorts. Robin walks back in from the bathroom, sitting on the couch next to Steve. “Eddie’s making me go to the vampire thing to be his little bitch,” Steve announces. 

Robin laughs. “Did you have to give Keith a blowjob to make that happen, Eddie?”

“Yes,” Eddie replies. “It was so good he offered to give Steve paid leave for the rest of his life, but I told him no need, I just need Steve for the weekend.”

“You do have a really big mouth,” Steve says, very pleased he’s actually able to get a blush out of Eddie. It’s rare, usually Eddie’s the one making Steve blush, but every once in a while Steve gets him.

“You guys are gross.” Robin cringes, sticking her tongue out at them. 

“Pretty sure you got us onto this particular topic, Birdie,” Eddie interjects. 

Robin ignores him. “Are you sure it’s going to be safe? For Steve?”

“I can take care of myself,” Steve grumbles. 

“Everyone’s allowed to bring a human companion, safety guaranteed by the coven,” Eddie assures. 

Steve sighs and slumps down on the couch. There’s probably no way out of this. And it will be nice to have a weekend away from Keith.

“Alright. Do I have to bring, like, fancy clothes?” Steve asks. He can’t imagine Eddie ever wearing anything other than jeans, a band tee, and a leather jacket, but he’s trying to lean into the vampirism thing a little more these days. 

“The invitation said there’s going to be a ball, which is black tie.”

“Eddie, do you even know what black tie means?” Steve asks. 

“Well, I assume, Steven, that it means I need a black tie,” Eddie snarks.

Steve sighs and drops his head into his hands. “We’re gonna need to go shopping.”

Read the whole thing on AO3.

Divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics.

[ladykailitha]

Howlin' for Yule

Hello and welcome to my Christmas AUvent Calendar! Every day from now until the 24th I will be posting a ficlet that is 500-1500 from an AU I've done over the years.

All stories will be marked with the tag #12 aus of christmas so you can follow along as I will only be tagging my permanent list for this (it would get too confusing otherwise).

The next one on our list is: Werewolf verse. You can read the story here. All links will be to the first chapter, but the chapter itself will have links to the rest of the story.

Do you know how ridiculously proud I am of that title? Do you? Because I am so damn proud of that title. Also welcome to the one that got away from me. I could have kept it short. They dance, they schmooze, and they go home.

But I wanted to write more with this one and when I realized if I wanted this to end on the 24th, I should have started on the 13th, instead of the 12th, I figured I could extend this and post it Christmas Eve.

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9

~

Eddie stood in front of a mirror and fussed with his tie. He usually got a chuckle from seeing his reflection in a mirror because according to Wayne that one only became a myth recently with them no longer using silver to back them anymore. But not even that thought could bring a smile to his face.

Because he had to look super nice for his boyfriend’s big Yule Tide ‘do up at the new vampire coven’s place. After the Creel house had almost burnt down when Jason attacked, Chrissy thought it would be better to move the coven somewhere safer. Closer to civilization so that if that happened again, they could get help faster.

They had bought a beautiful mansion in Loch Nora that was able to house all the remaining members of the coven comfortably. It even had a large room just for balls. Which is what this most certainly was.

When Chrissy suggested it back in October, she had merely suggested party including the vampires and werewolves as a way to foster peace between them. But Steve, the beautiful big brained and even bigger hearted had suggested a Yule Ball for all the supernatural beings in Hawkins.

So that meant that all Eddie’s friends were going to be there and he had to look nice.

“You look like you’re going to a funeral,” Wayne groused from behind him. “Probably your own judging from the sour expression on his face.

Eddie whirled around in shock. Wayne was standing there in early 18th century clothes in golds and browns. He looked amazing. “Why can’t I look like that?!”

Wayne looked down at his attire and then back up. “Would you like to?”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “I mean we really don’t have much time to make me something like that.” He waved at Wayne’s outfit. “Because I don’t think your clothes will fit me very well.”

Wayne chuckled. “Oh ye of little faith. You take that monkey suit off, and I’ll play fairy goduncle. Go on.”

Eddie raised a questioning eyebrow but did as he was told. He hadn’t been gone two scant minutes when he came back and all the clothes were laid out on his bed. Silks, velvet, and lace all in black. He would cut a dashing figure for sure.

He hurried to get dressed and then rushed out to the front to the kitchen and poured out a bowl of milk, placing it on the windowsill.

Wayne chuckled from the living room. “She owed me a favor, but I’m sure she will appreciate the treat anyway.”

Eddie shook his head. “It’s just good manners.”

Wayne nodded solemnly. He had raised this boy right. Not just in the ways of the supernatural, but in the ways of being a good human, too.

Then the sound of horses arriving, clattered outside their window and they both exited the trailer to see an elegant coach and four black horses.

“Your boy sure has a flare for the dramatic,” Wayne huffed as he was helped into the carriage by an actual footman. Something that Wayne had never experienced in his long life.

Eddie could only agree. In the last light of the shortest day of the year, the driver and footman seemed to glimmer as though they had a glamour placed over them to look vaguely human.

They pulled up to the coven’s new home and Eddie let out a wolf whistle. “The new Dominus seems to have her own flare for the dramatic.”

“Nah,” Wayne said as he exited the carriage, “that just comes from being a vampire.”

They were shown into what Eddie could only call a ballroom. It was massive. It was currently setup with long mahogany tables with little nameplates in front of every placement. The eating utensils were gold, the glasses were crystal, and plates were fine china.

It screamed opulence and once Eddie would have turned tail and ran. But not anymore. Being a vampire changed that, for sure, but what really cinched the deal was the man, standing next to the Dominus in a beautiful red and gold outfit similar to what Wayne and Eddie were wearing.

Steve Harrington, Roane Pack Alpha.

To be continued on Dec. 24th

~

Day 11

I could have waited until the 23rd to post this one, but there was something symbolic about posting it on the day of the winter solstice. The longest night.

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

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

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

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

[jenosbliss]

Building a Gingerbread House 🍪🎄

pairing. gn!reader x haechan | genre. fluff | wc. 466 | warnings. none

“You’ve got two minutes left before the timer goes off!” The announcement felt like a taunt as you glanced over your shoulder. There stood Haechan, swaying his hips to the music blasting through the kitchen, clearly unbothered. His gingerbread house was already standing tall, complete, and just waiting for the final decorations.

Meanwhile, your counter was a disaster zone. Crumbled walls, smeared icing, and shattered gingerbread lay in chaotic heaps. You had yet to attach the roof—and it was your fourth attempt. Still, you refused to back down.

“I have to win this,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing a new piece of gingerbread and slathering it with icing like your life depended on it.

This all started with a bet.

Earlier that morning, you’d confidently declared, “Whoever builds the perfect gingerbread house in two hours wins. If I win, you’re doing the dishes for a month.”

Haechan had grinned, far too smug for your liking. “Deal.”

You squinted at him suspiciously. “And if you win?”

His smirk grew. “I’ll tell you when I win.”

That should’ve been your warning, but you were too busy tying your apron with determination to notice his evil plan.

Now, with the timer mercilessly beeping, you groaned in defeat. Haechan waltzed over to your counter, carrying his ridiculously perfect gingerbread house. He placed it next to your half-collapsed shack and tilted his head with mock concern.

“Yikes. Looks like you’ll need another hour… or maybe a miracle,” he teased, his smirk widening when he saw the glare you shot him.

Rolling your eyes, you snapped back, “In my defense, this is my second time baking. And unlike you, I’m actually trying to make something meaningful.”

“Oh, sure,” he drawled, still smirking. “And what’s more meaningful than winning?”

Annoyed, you turned to leave, but before you could escape the kitchen, Haechan blocked your path, trapping you between the counter and his arms.

“Wait,” he said, leaning in just enough to make your heart skip. “Are you mad because you lost?”

“What do you want, Haechan?” you grumbled, trying to push past him. “What’s this mysterious prize of yours? And just so you know, I’m not cleaning the dishes—”

You didn’t get to finish. He cut you off with a kiss.

It was quick but sweet, his lips lingering just long enough to leave you breathless. When he pulled back, his grin was softer this time, more playful. “That was my prize,” he said simply, shrugging like it was no big deal.

You blinked, momentarily speechless, as your cheeks burned. “Wait… what?”

“Don’t worry,” he added, leaning in for another kiss, this one slower and even more distracting. “I’ll do the cleaning. You just keep being adorable.”

You rolled your eyes again, but this time, it was impossible to hide your smile.

tags:: divider created by @cafekitsune 🫶🏻

masterlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

navigation.

[froidefille]

Day 18: a fic that makes you laugh

📚 The Superfluous Man by peu_a_peu

🎧 by @sweaters_in_the_summer, 2.5h

Draco/Harry, 24k, E

Summary:

A child for Harry Potter is a miracle of magic. And it's the second act of Draco Malfoy's sorry little life.

This fic is absolutely unhinged in the best way there is. It was written for this year’s @hd-tarot. It’s actually been recorded as a podfic BEFORE THE REVEAL, which made it a super interesting experience to try to put 2 and 2 together and figure out the author.  And it was my first time correctly guessing the anonymous work’s author! I was pretty proud of myself, I have to admit :D However, it was a bit easier for me because I was getting to know peu_a_peu’s classic Rookie Moves via SITS’ podfic. The flow of the narrative, the story structure and, which was the biggest tell – the humour, were so splendidly narrated! And when I started listening to the podfic I just thought of Draco and Harry in Paris being ridiculous 😂

The whole series of Twenty Cards has some excellent comedic moments. And then there is our The Superfluous Man. In which Harry gets pregnant with Draco’s baby. With a twist – they didn’t have sex xd *it’s magic* Then, understandably, Draco is a panicked father-to-be who travels to outlandish places with Luna Lovegood to gather some crazy ingredients for a nutty potion.

And it only gets curiouser as it goes on! I absolutely loved listening to the story unfold! As you know I listen to a lot of podfics, and lots of it while in public transportation. Well, the problem with this fic was that I could only listen to it at home because I would HOOT from laughter in regular intervals and was getting real suspicious looks on the train xd

Just have a look at names of parenting guide books Hermione is researching:

Male Mothering: The XY How-To What to Expect When You’re Exceptional  The Carrying Wizard Accio Village! Potioneer’s Guide to Conception and Gestation Vol. 2

Tag yourself, I’m Team #AccioVillage! 💜😂

Thank you for the delightful prompt @hprecfest and see you tomorrow!

Ps. Remember when I said „see you tomorrow” 3 days ago? Xd Well, fingers crossed it works this time

Hilarious quotes under the cut <3 I had to limit myself to first chapter only, it was simply too much ^^

Choosing not to participate was not the same as failing, Draco decided. “We don’t all hit the ceiling when Potter says Leviosa. In fact it’s possible to build a life that doesn’t even revolve around him. Probably not for you two, but I’m sure being an adult sidekick has its rewards.” “Merlin, listen to him,” Weasley said, not to Draco but to Granger. “Did we step through a Floo or a Time-Turner?” “As if, Ron, look at him,” said Granger, who was not exactly a nubile eighteen-year-old herself, thanks. “Can we please go? If Lucius and Narcissa come in here, I think I’ll scream.” Draco slipped his heel into his shoe and stood. “Am I being kidnapped?” “Dunno, are you a kid?” Weasley said. “Harry’s at ours,” Granger said, as they bullied Draco to the Floo. “Say, ‘Pig’s Nest.’”

I honestly don't know what is funnier, Draco's "We don’t all hit the ceiling when Potter says Leviosa", " I’m sure being an adult sidekick has its rewards" or Granger-Weasley house being called "Pig's Nest" 🐖🏡

“WHO are YOU?” bellowed the presumable Hugo. “Where’s Potter?” Draco demanded. He looked behind him at the fireplace, which was glacially slow in bringing forth this person’s parents. “HARRY is PREGNANT!” screamed Hugo. “Shut up, Hugo!” said another child, a girl and slightly older, clearly of the same stock. “Harry, Hugo told a man you’re pregnant!” “What man?” said Harry Potter, who followed the girl into the room. “Finally. D’you not get owl post or what?”

Rose is such a big sister in this one, IMMEDIATELLY telling on Hugo xd

“Now that I’ve met your charming progeny,” Draco said, “and seen your charming home, would anyone like to tell me what the fuck is going on?” “SWEARING!” said the children, from some distance. “ALL THE WAY OUTSIDE, PLEASE,” Granger said. “Hugo already told you,” Potter said. “I’m pregnant.”

All the way outside 😂 Kids love finding those little openings in direct requests like going just "outside" of the room instead of going outside-outside xd

„Art, though,” Weasley said, shrugging. “And you know what about art,” Draco snapped, not continuing: you slackjawed ginger yokel? You stupid, unfortunate hanger-on? Who should be absolutely fucking anywhere else on earth at this moment? Or perhaps not on this earth at all? “I’m an artist, mate. I’m chief dreamweaver for Tri-Dub,” Weasley said, impenetrably.

Draco, what even are those words 😂😂😂

[the-somwthing]

Thinking of making one of those life series askblogs with all the dead characters in some form of afterlife. They’re really fun and things like that have been in my head since Last Life started so if anyone’s gonna jump on that you know it’s me (especially since I’ve run 3… successful enough ask series in the past).

[javierduffy]

kieran and javier finding moments or even seconds of domestic bliss in canon pls

my friend i have scoured, deep sea dived, deep cleaned, poker all-inned and i have never once in my rdr2 career ever been able to find a positive interaction between them in canon. i didn’t think they even had ANY for the longest time until someone found one and its literally javier threatening kieran … which i would personally not categorize as “domestic bliss”. i think our best bet for canon content is crossing our fingers and praying that the ai for them in camp has them sit next to each other momentarily

[cuteniarose]

Kat and Nia and their Multiverse of Madness

A masterpost for the intricate web of AUs co-created by @katkastrofa and yours truly, with linked art, fics and relevant posts for maximum convenience

(Compiled into one post mainly to help keep track of everything now that it's grown so big, but also specifically written out for @rokurookajima since she was interested. Will continue to be updated as things develop further)

Under the read more, because fair warning, this is LONG

MAIN VERSES:

We have many different AUs as part of our multiverse, but there are only two main ones, with the rest either being based on SotRL or a mix of it and FAtC:

Seeds of the Red Lotus – Suiren and Midori, my first OCs and Ming-Hua and Ghazan's children, grow up in Gaoling with their abusive paternal aunt, Haya (she wasn't abusive towards Ghazan, which is why he was inclined to trust her with his kids, but her grudge against him for abandoning her in favour of the RL + prejudice against the Swamp tribes, where Ming-Hua is from, because the illness that killed her parents started there, led her to taking out her anger on his daughters, particularly on Suiren, who is way too much like her mother). Their childhoods are awful in unique ways, and in an attempt to earn enough money to move out, Suiren, a waterbender, takes up a job as an assassin, which just further worsens her already nonexistent mental stability. In 174 AG, Team Avatar hires her as a last ditch effort to defeat Kuvira (and no, there is no giant mecha suit, because it's stupid and I hate it), and both sisters are taken to Air Temple Island. I never finished the fic itself, though I am slowly dabbling in a rewrite + continuation, but most of the discussions Kat and I have still take place in this verse, or more specifically, what we call post-SotRL

(Post-SotRL – After Suiren fails to kill Kuvira and sustains an injury to her leg, she and Midori leave ATI and by pure chance reunite with their parents and P'Li (all of whom survived the Book 3 finale and spent 3 years in hiding, because I said so). Of course, it's not all sunshine and rainbows – there are 16 years' worth of trauma, pain and guilt to work through, after all. That process is the central theme of Kat's Roots series. Some time later, Kuvira is defeated and sentenced to death, but Suiren (who's been high-key obsessed with her ever since the failed assassination) decides to break her out of jail and save her life, which leads to the start of their enemies to unwilling roommates/fuckbuddies to lovers arc. The event itself is detailed in Kat's WISH, and I myself have written this dynamic both in Astraphobia and my unfinished Avatar Sapphic Week contributions. At roughly the same time, Midori reconnects with Opal (who she met while at ATI) and they begin a relationship of their own (bc Bopal was comphet and you cannot convince me otherwise), a bit later Bolin joins the gang (gets semi-adopted by Ghazan and discovers that his mom and P’Li are actually cousins who never got to meet, so P’Li gets some family back too), and eventually this merry band of misfits break Zaheer out of jail, and what follows is some difficult political stuff that neither of us are too keen to get into, but the point is that in the end, the Red Lotus are allowed to peacefully exist and the world is slowly changing for the better)

Fate Amenable to Change – A set of fics exploring a Red Lotus Korra AU, canon to Kat's main backstory fic, Lost and Found (SotRL builds on the same events with the same backstories for P'Li and Zaheer, but with Ghazan being from Gaoling instead of Ba Sing Se, his sister's name being different, and him being childhood friends with Ming-Hua. Suiren and Midori are also not canon to FAtC). The main fic, Empty and Become Wind, differs from most other RL Korra fics because she wasn't kidnapped, rather the RL convinced her parents to run away with them, but unfortunately, both of them were killed when Korra was 11. After that, the RL took up residence in Zaofu right up until it was time for Korra to learn airbending, upon which they all relocate to Republic City. Kat's co-writer for this series quit writing, and since then we've basically adopted the two most prominent OCs from it – Nazra, P'heer's combustionbending daughter, and Tsomo, a blind airbender born to Lin and Tenzin before they broke up. The two of them feature in a few of our SotRL-based AUs (and yes, they're lesbians and in love, did you really expect anything else?). We don't really explore this verse because both of us are obsessed with Suiren and Midori, but it deserves a mention nonetheless.

SECONDARY VERSES:

Under the Oak's Shade – The first secondary AU ever created, a result of a passing idea of an AU where Zhi (P'Li's mentor and parental figure from Kat's LaF) and her partner Ikiaq (a bloodbending healer. Yes, these two are also lesbians) take in Suiren and Midori after their parents are imprisoned. Due to being unable to cope with her own grief, it takes Zhi six months to get to the girls, which was enough time for Haya's abuse to leave its mark. Both girls are nothing at all like the kids described in the letters P'Li used to send, and while Midori is quick to revert back and soak in all of Zhi's affection, Suiren is angry, skittish, terrified and resentful, reluctant to let Zhi anywhere near her. The series is still in progress, but the current plan is that Zhi will take them to the North Pole, where she lives with Ikiaq, and they shall help the girls heal from their trauma and grow up happy and healthy. One notable detail is that Suiren will train under Ikiaq and become a bloodbender, which will eventually enable her to enact a plan to break the RL out of prison early on. There have also been talks of a Red Lotus Korra element to this AU as well, but we'll have to discuss it in more detail

Ultimate AU – One of the mixes between SotRL and FAtC. This AU has existed pretty much forever, as I very quickly came up with a "hey, what if Suiren, Midori and Nazra all existed in the same verse?" concept. It is also the birthplace of Kuviren and Green Opal, both started as inside jokes, so remember kids, be careful with what you joke about, it might just become an important part of your story. It gained proper shape in May 2024 when I came up with an AU of LaF in which P'Li's little sister, Lien-Hua, gets to live and is also rescued from the warlord by Zaheer. Lien-Hua haunts the narrative of our multiverse (and actually, in SotRL-verse Midori is her reincarnation!!), she's really the central part of it all, and so it was decided that if she gets to live, everyone else does too. Xai Bau, the Red Lotus founder who died closer to the end of LaF, survives. The AU follows the storyline of FAtC with Korra's parents joining the RL, but they also get to live. In Zaofu, the kids get to grow up happily with their parents, the seeds for Kuviren and Green Opal are planted, and it's genuinely all very soft and fluffy up until Republic City and the Equalist conflict comes into the picture and things take on a darker turn. But before then, the worst thing that happens is Kuvira rejecting Suiren because she's convinced Renny (who's a massive flirt with a love for low cut dresses in this verse) is just playing with her and her feelings aren't genuine. But they sort it out soon enough, don't you worry. Essentially, this is the AU we turn to when the angst gets to be Too Much

Mud of Adversity – Another mix of SotRL and FAtC, this time a lot more angsty. Starts out the same as SotRL, with the exception of Nazra being left with Haya as well, meaning that Suiren's burden of being the protector has doubled. Haya knows who Nazra's mother is and thus is scared of her, so Naz doesn't get hit (Haya views her as a walking time bomb, essentially), but they're not given enough food to satisfy Nazra's increased appetite and she's made to feel like a freak for her height and abilities. Though in some ways, she's luckier than her sisters because she's allowed to firebend while earth- and waterbending are banned. The reason is the same, Haya being afraid that Nazra will spontaneously combust if her fire builds up for too long. Years later, when the girls are teens, Nazra gets angry at Haya for beating Suiren and accidentally kills her with her combustionbending. They dispose of the body, leave Gaoling and go into hiding, Suiren taking up her assassin job to keep them fed. When the RL escape from prison in Book 3, they go to check up on their daughters only to find an empty house, causing them all to imagine the worst. We never did finish figuring out how this AU develops, but this is the basic gist of it and maybe one day, we'll return to it

Sacrifice AU – The angstiest SotRL AU there is. As mentioned, people in the small corner of Gaoling Haya lives in are prejudiced towards the Swamp tribes, blaming them for the disease that killed so many, and Suiren as a swampbender becomes the subject of many rumours and superstitions. With time, the townspeople start to see her as a spirit (because it's easier to ignore the obvious abuse of a child if she's not a child at all, but a malevolent spirit and an omen of doom), and the rumours reach their peak when Suiren becomes an assassin and is now able to afford a slightly better life for herself and Midori, at which point it is decided that she must be the reason everyone else lives in poverty, because why else does she live better than them? Getting rid of her will be their salvation. So one night a few months after the Red Lotus allegedly die, on a new moon so Suiren is at her weakest, they attack, intending to sacrifice her as a way of securing prosperity, and kill Midori while they're at it. Kuvira, who at that point has already started her Great Uniter work, happens to be in Gaoling at the same time and saves them, taking them to Zaofu for their safety. Desperate to feel alive again, Suiren falls into bed with Kuvira on that very first night and regrets it a lot since now Kuvira keeps looking at her as if she expects something (Kuvira is just concerned, but try telling Suiren that). Traumatised, suffering from PTSD and paranoia, Suiren avoids people like the plague and stops waterbending, considering water to be a traitor since it didn't help her save herself and Midori, and instead learns bloodbending so she isn't completely helpless. And Kuvira, who keeps fretting over her, might just be the perfect test subject...

MoA Sacrifice AU – Somehow, even worse than the previous one. As the title suggests, a mix of Sacrifice AU and Mud of Adversity. Instead of Nazra killing Haya, things carry on as normal for a few more years until the night of the sacrifice. Nazra uses her combustionbending to try saving Suiren, but fails and all it results in is the townspeople deciding to sell her to a general looking for unique benders for his army. Suiren and Midori are saved by Kuvira and taken to Zaofu, while Nazra meets the same fate as her mother, being tattooed and forced to be a weapon against her will. Eventually, she is found and saved, but is so traumatised and scared of hurting people (her tattoo was done in a way that made her light chakra overactive, she literally cannot supress her combustionbending unless she's on qi blockers) that she can't stay in Zaofu and is sent to a sanctuary in the mountains to recover, where she meets and bonds with Tsomo. Meanwhile, rumours of a combustionbender spread and reach the Red Lotus, who are currently in hiding. Ghazan goes to investigate, is told by Haya about the failed sacrifice, comes across Bolin who by that point has made friends with Midori, and the reunion between the RL and their kids happens sooner than in normal SotRL. Still not too clear on where it goes from there

Avatar Suiren AU – Aang dies two years earlier and Suiren is born as the Avatar instead of Korra. The Red Lotus fundamentally believe that the Avatar shouldn't exist, and that belief was passed on to Suiren before they found out what she was. Suiren hates being the Avatar, both because she sees her parents constantly worrying about her being discovered and taken away, and because she, similar to Yangchen, is rather sensitive to memories of her past lives and it's very, very overwhelming for her. She often gets nightmares about traumatic things previous Avatars went though and.wakes up screaming names long forgotten by history, but that also allows her easier communication with them, so she's never quite alone. She remembers all the pain, all the efforts to fix the world that were ultimately useless, knows how it feels like to have your entire world upended as a child, and decides early on that she will not let this continue. The world cannot keep relying on one being to save them, and so she shall be the Last Avatar. She grows up, trains, at one point crosses paths with Kuvira in Zaofu who finds out her secret and becomes extremely devoted to her, and during Harmonic Convergence opens both Spirit Portals and fuses with Vaatu (much to Raava's dismay). She works hard to get the world ready for the lack of an Avatar, to change and establish as many things as she can, all the while bonding with and getting attached to her spirit kites, particularly Vaatu, though she spends a lot of time talking to both, and when things are as stable as can be, she lets both of them go, ending the cycle (something that would cause unfathomable outrage were it to actually happen in the show, but tbh, even this is 100x better than whatever those new leaks promise...)

Mermaid AU – An utterly niche, self indulgent AU not connected to any other verse, born out of my lifelong love for mermaids. No bending, no Avatar, just Kuvira as the best captain in Suyin Beifong's merchant fleet (and Bataar Jr's fiancee) and Suiren as a mermaid/siren/sea monster who she meets while stranded in a seaside town. Monsterfucking ensues 😁 I'm still not quite sure where I'll take this, the fic for it that I started for MerMay 2024 is still just a oneshot, but I do have some ideas I could explore, including how Suiren's parents and Midori feature in this AU (as a tiny hint.. anyone here ever seen Barbie in a Mermaid Tale? [they say, as if they don’t have several posts on their art blog spoiling the “grand reveal”…])

BONUS IMPORTANT STORYLINES:

Northern Water Tribe shenanigans – In March 2024 I made a shitpost about Malina, Unalaq's wife, Kat saw it and things spiralled from there. It came to be that there's no love in their marriage, they have not shared a bed since the twins were conceived, and Unalaq generally has no interest in Malina because he's rather.. preoccupied (🤮) with a certain spirit kite. And what's a lonely, touch starved, severely tocophobic beautiful bisexual noble woman to do in that situation? Well, start a harem made out of her guards and handmaidens, of course!! It's.. pretty much pure filth, yes 😔 That's just what happens when you let someone raised on harem dramas (a.k.a me) anywhere near noble characters. But anyway, we have two OCs Malina is close with so far – Ila, a useless disaster lesbian for whom no other woman but Malina exists, and Alasie, an aroace and touch repulsed maid who has her boundaries respected by Malina and becomes a friend to her. Ngl, those two are low-key based on Kat and me <3 And Suiren also becomes involved in all of this in the UtOS and Avatar Suiren verses, but I shall not be sharing details of that in public

Zaheer's fucked up family – Once upon a time, Kat wrote in LaF that at age 12, Zaheer ran away from his tyrant father, classist mother and two sisters, whom he didn’t have the best relationship with. One summer evening, I took that and ran with it. Semi-brief summary: Jusamah – Zaheer's father, angry, violent, barely tolerates his wife and kids, cares only for his fortune and continuing the family line, can, will and has severely punished and executed people for perceived transgressions; Sunat – Zaheer's mother, meek, anxious, secretly nearsighted, loves her children and would do anything to ensure their safety, but doesn't allow herself to show affection, focuses on social climbing to secure good matches for her daughters; Summiya – the eldest, perfect in every way down to the uncanny symmetry of her face. Married to Himman, the only son of an influential family who's rumoured to be a drunk and a brothel goer. Her two children, Liba and Abyan, were both born with visible birthmarks, thus not as perfect as her, and her perfectionism and constant criticism make Abyan resent her and Liba hate herself. As young teens, the two run away, leaving Summiya's life crumbling around her. Her kids are gone, her husband is a cheater, she's not perfect anymore, so she loses it and turns to sexual masochism to feel at least something. Her infidelity is discovered, she runs away, makes friends with a group of girls working at a local brothel (a few of whom are her husband's mistresses), heals, finds freedom in sex work, eventually reconnects with her sister, kids, mother and, many years later, Zaheer; Aiza/Emran – middle child, always failed to live up to both Summiya and Zaheer, scored a less than ideal match and couldn't stand the thought of marrying someone she had never met (my fic nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter goes into this in great detail), so disguised herself as a boy named Emran and ran away with the help of her maid. Ends up at an Air Temple, joins the acolytes, has a gender epiphany and now goes by both names, uses she/he/they pronouns, and is a genderfluid, pansexual, polyamorous ICON. Many years later, his niece and nephew arrive at the same temple and he takes them under his wing. Has many lovers all over the world, including the maid who helped them, Jia (who was tortured for information by Jusamah after Aiza left 😬) and after reuniting with Zaheer, Ghazan :D. Gains airbending after Harmonic Convergence. Over the last few months Kat and I have basically frothed at the mouth at any even slight mention of this family, and it's hard to tell why from a summary, but generational conflicts like this are fascinating so we intend to keep going with this until we literally can't anymore

Brothel girls – Summiya's friends!! Featuring: Shezan – bisexual, struggles with chronic pain, comes from a big family, loves her work but would rather do it independently; Roheen – lesbian, wanted to become a lawyer but didn't get into school despite her smarts, dislikes her job and wants to leave to pursue law school again; Gulalai – bisexual, has an identical twin sister she failed to compare to, in a relationship with Roheen, enjoys her work well enough but would leave if Roheen left; Phailin – asexual, half Fire Nation, erotic dancer who goes further for a higher price, loves dancing and having eyes on herself and dreams of returning to her ancestral homeland, the Fire Nation islands; Daneli – lesbian, youngest girl there, turned to brothel work when her dad (single father) got sick, has crushes on Shezan and Qader, doesn't enjoy her job much and will leave as soon as she can, ends up adopting the daughter of one of the other brothel girls, whom she names Kumisai (who, as a teenager, will be in a relationship with Jinora and friends with Kai); and Qader – some flavour of mspec, was bullied growing up for not being feminine enough so went full butch to spite them, picked her name herself, the most domineering at the brothel, likes her work and will keep at it regardless of circumstances, makes Kat's brain short-circuit 🤭. Honourable mention – Mekhali, non-binary, independent sex worker with an undecided dark past, Summiya's first friend who housed her after she ran away, introduced her to the girls and helped both her and Shezan start working independently too (no posted art or fics of these guys exist yet, but Kat and I have an extensive series of incorrect quotes posts featuring them)

Sweet baby Ehuang – We've had the headcanon for a while that Midori and Opal would work with kids a lot in the future, and as a result would adopt a bunch (no names, appearances or concrete backstories yet, but they adopted a boy who was born in 173 AG, a girl who was born in 175 AG, and one who'll end up nonbinary who was born in 181 AG), but after a while Midori decides that she wants to have a biological child as well. With one of Opal's brothers helping out as a sperm donor, Midori conceives and nine months later, in 186 AG, gives birth to a girl they name Ehuang (her name comes from the same legend as Ming-Hua's mom's name, Nuying, so it's all very symbolic). Ehuang grows up to be a wild and carefree child, beloved by her entire family – her moms, siblings, grandparents, uncles on Opal's side, Auntie Renny and Auntie 'Vira (Suiren and Kuvira, in case that wasn't obvious), etc etc. She's an earthbender on the road to becoming a lavabender, takes after great grandma Toph in her refusal to wear shoes, has a rock collection, and is literally the manifestation of everything good and pure in this world. We don't have much of a storyline for her yet, but that will hopefully change at some point since I already have a few ideas

EXTRA OC INFODUMPS AND RELEVANT POSTS:

Brief summaries of Haya, Summiya, Aiza, Ehuang, and Ila & Alasie

Meifeng, Ming-Hua’s cousin

Nonbinary OCs (incomplete list)

Eldest daughters

And, as one final piece of information, the SotRL-verse family tree:

Last updated: DECEMBER 20TH 2024

[kohakhearts]

anyone else think theres some kinda bizarre love triangle going on between the player and the dlc siblings cause thats all i took away from it lmao. cant wait for part 2 so i can take carmine on a true american date