#but i felt like this was getting really long lol

[c-nstellati-ns]

APOLLO, GOD OF MUSIC ... — conquest x medic!superhero!m!reader prt.1

you were retired, for gods sake. why in the hell would everything go to shit exactly when you were on vacation? you struggled to even comprehend the fact that there were more than one invincibles flying around, and now the city was falling apart all around you? retired or not, there were people who needed help and that's what you planned to do, no matter how reluctant you were about it. ... so how the hell did you manage to get yourself wrapped up with the very alien who was turning this city into a fine dust?

> author's note — this is incredibly self-indulgent and the first time i've written in literal months LOL so sorry for being inactive for so long !! this was inspired by dj subatomic supernova from NSR, lucio from overwatch and luna snow from marvel rivals ... i love me a silly guy who makes music and heals people via that music :-) not that subatomic heals people ... more like ........ he tries to kill them via music and his planets ........ but whatever !!! this is irrelevant !!!!!! ( i was gonna have this be smut originally but i like where i ended off to continue into a part two soon ^_^ so sorry if anything is bad i am very rusty ... feel free to send me some thirsts in my inbox if you'd like! ) > word count — 1.6k > featuring — our fave viltrumite, conquest <3 > cw — intentional lower case, canon typical violence, unspoken death threats? nothing much really its mostly establishing how your relationship came to be before things get steamy LOL so sorry for the bait

MDNI. 18+ ACCOUNT, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

you had parted ways with the GDA some time ago, marking it off as a need for something new. you could only fight so long, for so much. you had been in the spotlight ever since your powers had finally developed, being someone who could virtually heal anything with the power of music. it was rather silly in your eyes but it made you and anyone you wanted to protect virtually invincible. any wounds or injuries would mend in seconds in your presence, people feeling safe around you, other heroes feeling energised to keep on fighting. at some point, you felt the same way until… you didn't. it had only been a matter of time, after all.

the GDA was desperate to keep you so you kept their number just in case things were to happen. that is, until something finally did happen. it was a random tuesday, you think. you had been on the way to your hotel in the city for your little vacation, you had been waiting for so long for it. tapping into your savings from working with the guardians to afford it. you were happy, life was good. you had a nice car, a nice place far from the city, a couple dogs, cats, and one snake that you loved dearly. you were single, not that you minded much actually.

so what exactly happened? how the hell did your car end up split in half by falling debris and cradling the lifeless body of some innocent civilian that got extremely unlucky? you could barely wrap your mind around it.

it was hard to try and keep your music up enough to keep yourself safe, but to try and sweep in and aid those who were helpless was something else entirely. you let out a loud groan of frustration as you carefully set the body down somewhere undisturbed, making a mental note to come back for it later. you had to keep up, getting as many people out of there as you could, but there was always the few that escaped your grasp, all falling victim to some horrible fate that no amount of healing nor music could help. you couldn't get distracted.

you were glad you had kept the equipment the GDA had made for you, even gladder to have kept it close. the music coming off of the holographic speakers around you was loud, a beacon of hope in the midst of the destruction around you, but it kept people safe and you kept playing. you kept far away from the fighting as much as you could, ushering innocents away from their very close deaths. of course, you were putting a big ole target on your head with how loud it all was, but you couldn't care less. sounds waves were blasting anything that came your way, cracking open asphalt that trapped some poor kid underneath it all. you could spot the blood pooling next to him, his mother probably. you grimaced and carried him away, making sure to heal whatever cuts and bruises he had. thankfully, unharmed physically. mentally… you wouldn't wish that on your worst enemy.

you were doing your job well, keeping things somewhat peaceful until you spotted a stray arm sticking out of some debris. you quickly flew over, pushing off any concrete that held this person down. your heart beating frantically in your chest, you dug as much as you could, hoping that they didn't die before you got there. you grabbed at their hand and pulled as much as you could, using your sound waves to blast at the concrete as you did so. you let out a sigh of relief as you felt the warm from their palm, squeezing it in reassurance. you passed your fingers over their wrist, trying to find their pulse but no dice. so you used your powers to heal whatever injuries they might've sustained, a soothing melody that has the person feeling mushy.

"hey, are you okay?!" you shouted over the chaos around you, hand reaching out to grip at their shoulder. you pulled as hard as you can, thinking to yourself, holy fuck this guy is heavy as hell. you were about to yell again until the hand grabbed at your own roughly, your joints creaking in protest as it did so.

"woah--" you couldn't even finish your sentence before a giant man emerged from the rubble in front of you. he was much, much taller than you, and built like a fucking tank. if you weren't scared shitless, you would have asked him where he worked out. your jaw dropped, staring at the stranger before you.

conquest was having fun with this. he was having fun with all of this! this planet's defences were as measly as he had imagined, so it wasn't a surprise when the creatures that inhabited it were squished by a simple rock to their soft spots. but he was pleasantly surprised by its defender. a halfbreed viltrumite, weak like all those other flesh bags, but much more resilient. the worm even got him to bleed, which was a surprise in itself.

so who was this, mending the little scrapes and bruises that his body has yet to heal? why did it feel… good? like a warm feeling throughout his body, a hum of a familiar tune that made him want to… sleep? what the hell was this? it feels odd, he feels light. lighter than he would when he's flying, it was something else entirely. the touch was soft, much unlike he's ever felt before. a gentle squeeze, a faint hold. it was a strange combination, nothing like he's felt before. he let out a rough grunt, grabbing at the hand that was given to him, rising from the rubble he was buried underneath.

conquest brought up the creature that had healed him by the arm, thick brows furrowed as he stared down at it. it was fearful, trying to wrestle out of his iron grip and escape. but the viltrumite was curious about it now, who exactly was this worm? and was it so stupid to not know its own enemy?

you were gonna throw up. of course, of course you healed the wrong person. just your luck that you had healed THE VERY FUCKING THING THAT WAS CAUSING ALL THIS DEATH AND DESTRUCTION IN THE FIRST PLACE. you let out a pained noise as his grip around your wrist tightened, trying to just get away. you could keep yourself safe when fighting anything but a viltrumite? this was something else entirely.

you were smarter than to try and use your offensive powers against him, so instead, you allowed yourself to play a somewhat scattered melody to heal the broken bones within your hand and wrist. he tilted his head to the side, examining you like a piece of meat. i suppose that was what you were now. a stupid, musical adept piece of meat for him to tear into.

closing your eyes, you couldn't believe this was the day you would die. you didn't even get to take your vacation.

… but nothing happens? it's been a couple minutes, he should've killed you by now. you crack your eye open and take a look at him, startled by his one eyed gaze. his pupils are slits, examining you like you were some foreign… thing. and then he smiles. it's an unsettling one, but he grabs you by the waist, a much gentler hold than what he had on your wrist.

"you're the foolish one who helped me, aren't you?" his deep voice rings out over your healing melody and the rumbling chaos around you both.

you're speechless for a moment before nodding frantically, looking around for anything, anyone. unfortunately, no dice. it was just you, him and the fuck metric ton of dead bodies that he caused around you.

"hmm…" conquest mutters to himself. it was a strange feeling, the closer you were to him, the more that strange warm feeling seeped deep into his bones. he couldn't help but let out a deep purr that rattled you silly. he was like a big cat to you, a big, murderous psychotic cat. with his arms around you, it was… comforting? in a really, really fucked up way. you swallowed thickly as you stared up at him as he smiled down at you, what the fuck is going on?

"what is your name, worm?" the stranger asked, examining your face closely as he spoke. your mouth was dry, gaping like a fish out of water. his arms was tightening around you the longer you took to answer him and you stammered out your full legal out of sheer nervousness. he didn't seem like a patient man at all.

he repeats it under his breath, it rolls off nicely on his tongue. his arms lighten around your waist, your ribs definitely bruised after all this. you let out a groan, brain too scattered to make a coherent melody to heal yourself. instead, you looked back to him as his grin widened. crooked teeth and a prominent scar, you would have called him handsome if you weren't actively in danger of being ripped apart by this alien.

"… perhaps lord thragg wouldn't mind if i kept a pet, hm?" conquest purrs, that metallic hand reaching up and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "a healing songbird, doesn't that sound nice? my little songbird." you barely have enough time to speak before he takes off with you in his arms, away from the destruction and chaos that he caused.

mark was clueless as to why conquest had disappeared all of the sudden. in a blink of an eye, he was alone, beaten and bruised on the ground. it gave him time to breathe but it was nerve wracking to think about.

What the fuck just happened?

all works belong to c-nstellati-ns ⓒ 2025. do not steal, repost or feed into AI. ask before translating.

[yoonmetogether]

K, i’m sorry it took me so long to get back to this but ive had screenshots of the lines that hit me so hard sitting in my photo album lol

Jesus this hurt so fucking bad. I felt every one of these feelings as if i actually experienced them like????? its like i can visualize mc’s feelings??? Not just understand them through the words and thats some serious talent to evoke that kind of emotion that i can feel through a screen 👏👏👏but also 😭😭😭

Ouch….. i feel like mc doesn’t want to get in the way of them being a complete family even though she’s clearly important to haneul and yoongi and not just as a nanny anymore. So i get why she needs space. It would be hard to feel a part of something that’s not really yours like ofc she can love haneul and yoongi as a family maybe she’s worried haneul will think of her as his mom when she’s not biologically and she doesn’t want to confuse him

Brooooooooooo my fucking heart like its valid that mc had to step away but lil man was probs so confused and sad that she wasn’t around all of a sudden 🫠 and for yoongi to do that is in a way showing her that they both miss her 🥺

This is something ive needed to hear so many times. It’s so true but it’s so hard to stop being stuck. Thank you for writing this as a little reminder to all of us.

I still have a few chapters to read but this one really stuck with me the most!!! I enjoy your writing sososososososo much 💕💕💕

Love & Lullabies | Part 3

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

Chapter warnings: GRAB YOUR TISSUES!, this bitch is a whole ass kdrama episode and it’s gonna hurt before it gets better, happy ending tho!, themes of self-loathing, anxiety, and depression (MC), severe postpartum depression (not MC), it’s monsoon season and namgi don’t like umbrellas, (____) in the rain cliche scene, NAMTIDDIES because I can’t help myself, lastly… watch me morph this into another workplace romance/co-workers to lovers story lmao (real)

Word count: ~7k

Posting date: November 21, 2024

Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. 

I am a clown 🤡 and a liar 🤥 From pretending this is a two-shot, then a three-shot. It has become a chaptered series, atp. There is a part 4 in the works and I fully intend to end it there, but again, I may have just jinxed myself. Anyway! Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |  Masterlist

“She’s Haneul’s mom.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“What?”

“Sung Kyung and Yoongi… they’ve been good friends for years,” Namjoon explains quickly, his tone almost apologetic. “I didn’t think they were dating. But yeah, she’s his mom. She left for months and when she came back, she'd already given birth.”

You feel like the ground has been ripped out from under you. What Namjoon said made no sense. You clutch the edge of the counter, your mind racing. “What do you mean she left…?” You have never been more confused in your entire life.

Namjoon sighs. “I don’t know all the details. You know hyung, he tells you what he thinks you need to know. The rest, he keeps to himself. But I do know they did the paternity tests and everything, and Haneul’s his, theirs.”

Theirs. It’s easier if Namjoon just slices your heart open at this rate. 

He places a tentative hand on your shoulder. “It’s better to hear it straight from Yoongi-hyung, since you guys are, you know.”

“I– I don’t know. I don’t know what we are,” you say, leaning your weight sideways against the wall to steady yourself. 

Get a grip. It’s Haneul’s day. 

Namjoon stands to shield you from the rest, in case anybody chances to look your way. You probably look like you’re about to puke. You definitely feel like it.

“Joonie…” Your voice is small when you ask, “Do you think she wants to come back now?”

Namjoon lifts his shoulder, lets it sag, “I don’t know. Maybe. She wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Your chest tightens, a wave of insecurity crashing over you. Of course, she would want to come back now. She’s beautiful, successful, everything you’re not. And most importantly, she’s Haneul’s mother. That’s the kicker. How can you compete with that?

Spoiler alert: you can’t.

When you step back into the living room, the first thing you notice is Yoongi’s mom. She’s standing off to the side, her lips pressed into a thin line as she glares at Sung Kyung from across the room with a mixture of disapproval and barely-contained irritation.

“She shouldn’t be here,” she says quietly, her voice cold and clipped.

“Eomma,” Yoongi grits.

“She abandoned Haneul, Yoongi,” his mom hisses, her tone sharper now. “And she thinks she can just come here like nothing happened?”

Yoongi sighs, his hand briefly brushing his mother’s arm in a silent plea for calm. “Not here, eomma. Please. It’s Haneul’s birthday. Don’t make a scene.”

Of course he is siding with her.

You’re unable to tear your eyes away from Sung Kyung. How can she look so beautiful even if she looks miserable? She exchanges a few more quiet words with Yoongi near the door, her expression alternating between frustration and what looks like regret. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but you catch the way Yoongi’s shoulders stiffen, the way his jaw tightens as she reaches out to brush his arm. You see Yoongi nod, and you’re so curious, what is he agreeing to?

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she leaves. The door is closed, but for sure this chapter isn’t. Not even close.

You entertain yourself by watching some of the BTS members play some video games. Their antics, as funny as they are, don’t really register. Your laughs are hollow, mind totally elsewhere. It’s a while before Yoongi finally finds you, after he disappeared to his studio after Sung Kyung left and went MIA for half an hour or so.

He corners you near the snack table as you pretend to be engrossed in arranging leftover cupcakes.

“Hey,” he says softly, touching your arm lightly.

You turn to face him, your smile brittle. “Hey. How’s everything going?”

“Can we talk?”

You nod, following him toward the hallway, away from the laughter and chatter. The noise completely fades as you enter his soundproof studio and he turns to face you.

He exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to talk to you,” he says carefully, like he’s choosing every word with precision.

“About Sung Kyung.” you offer. He nods, shoulders visibly tense. “Yeah. And Haneul.”

The mention of Haneul makes your chest tighten, but you steady yourself, waiting for him to continue.

“She and I… we were close for a long time,” he begins, his gaze dropping to the floor. “And yeah, there was a point where I thought it was going somewhere. But then she just… disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“She left Korea. No warning, no explanation. Just… ghosted.” He shrugs. “I didn’t know where she went or why. She didn’t contact me for months.”

“And then one day,” he continues, “she called. Told me she just gave birth to a son. That it was mine.”

The words hang between you, heavy and jarring. You don’t say anything, letting him get it all out.

“She didn’t tell me she was pregnant,” he says, shaking his head as if he still can’t believe it. “I literally only found out after he was born.”

You feel a pang of sympathy, but then you’re also feeling angry at Sung Kyung. “Why did she wait so long to tell you?”

“She said she didn’t want to burden me. I was already doing my military service and I had that thing… that case. She thought she could handle it on her own.” He looks up at you then, his eyes dark and conflicted. “But after she had him… she couldn’t. She fell into really severe postpartum depression and some other health issues, basically telling me she was diagnosed unfit to take care of him.”

Your throat tightens, and you clasp your hands together to keep them from shaking. “So you stepped in.”

He nods, “I didn’t have a choice. Haneul needed someone, and I couldn’t—I wouldn’t turn my back on him. He’s my son. It was confirmed by a paternity test.”

“And now she’s back,” you say, more a statement than a question.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, dragging a hand down his face. “She says she’s better. That she wants to be in his life now. That she can be. And honestly… I don’t know what to do.”

You study him for a moment, your emotions warring between compassion and your own sense of inadequacy. “What do you want, Yoongi? Not for her, not for Haneul. What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, gnawing his lip before he says, “I just… I want to do what’s right for Haneul.”

The words cut deeper than you expected, but you force a small smile, nodding as if they don’t sting. “That makes sense.”

Yoongi takes a step closer as he studies your face. “But what about you?” he asks, his voice almost too gentle. “How are you feeling about all this?”

The sincerity in his question takes you off guard, and for a moment, you’re tempted to tell him everything. The ache in your chest, the jealousy you hate admitting to, the fear of losing whatever connection the two of you have built. But instead, you plaster on a smile, shoving all those emotions into a corner of your mind.

“I’m fine,” you say lightly. “It’s Haneul’s birthday. That’s what matters.”

Yoongi doesn’t look convinced, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s trying to read the truth in your expression. But after a moment, he nods, letting it drop. “Okay.”

Finally, you glance at the door, forcing yourself to straighten up. “We should probably get back to the party.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, stepping aside to let you pass. But as you reach for the door, his voice stops you.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

You turn back, your brows furrowing. “For what?”

“For everything,” he says, his eyes filled with something you can’t quite name.

You don’t know how to respond, so you just nod. Because his words—why did it feel like a goodbye?

The rest of the party passes in a blur. You keep smiling, keep laughing, keep pretending everything is fine. You stand by as Yoongi helps Haneul blow out his single candle, snapping pictures of his chubby hands smashing into the frosting. 

You’re wiping stray frosting from Haneul’s cheek when you glance at him and for a split second, you see her. Sung Kyung’s face is right there, faint but unmistakable, in the shape of his eyes and the curve of his brows.

The realization hits you like a freight train. You freeze, the cloth clutched in your hand, staring at this beautiful baby boy who isn’t yours. Who will never be yours.

It’s too much. You set the muslin down, excusing yourself to the kitchen with a muttered, “I’ll grab more drinks.”

You don’t even make it to the fridge. You stand there by the counter, gripping its edge as you force yourself to breathe, to keep the tears at bay. You’ve never felt more out of place in your life.

Namjoon finds you a few moments later, leaning against the doorway with a quiet, watchful look. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He just stays there, close but not too close, his presence steady and silent. You appreciate him for that—for knowing exactly what you need when you’re unraveling. He’s your best friend after all.

But even his quiet support isn’t enough to keep the emotions at bay.

Across the room, Yoongi’s eomma catches your eye. There’s something pitying in the glances she throws your way, a faint furrow of her brow that makes you want to sink into the floor. You had the feeling she knows there’s something between you and Yoongi, but now… now it feels like she’s seeing through you, like she knows exactly how small you’re starting to feel.

Because the truth is, you’re nothing.

You’re not Haneul’s mom. You’re not Yoongi’s girlfriend. You’re just someone who helps out when it’s convenient, and now that they have a nanny, you’re not even that. And it hurts. God, it hurts because you thought—maybe foolishly, maybe selfishly—that you were becoming something more. That you were becoming someone to them. That, maybe, you were becoming a family.

But now, as you stand there watching Yoongi carry Haneul to his room, barely sparing you a glance, the truth sinks in like a stone in your chest. You’re not someone. You’re a placeholder. A stand-in.

And pretty soon, just like Jiyong, they’re going to discard you. Because that’s what always happens. You’re always easy to leave behind. Always replaceable. Always useless.

The thought claws at you, and you suddenly can’t breathe. You grab your things and run. The cool night air stings your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in your chest.

The tears come before you can stop them, hot and angry and full of every ounce of self-loathing you’ve tried to bury.

You glance back at the building. Maybe for the last time. You’re on the outside now—of course you are. You’ve been on the outside this entire time.

Namjoon must have noticed you were gone because he texted shortly after:

Namjoon: You okay? Namjoon: Don’t worry, I told them you weren’t feeling well. Go home and rest. Text me when you’re there.

That night, you ignored Yoongi’s call. You stared at the screen as his name lit up, your finger hovering over the answer button before you let it ring out. He left a voicemail. You deleted it without listening.

The next morning, you wake up to another call from him. This time, he doesn’t leave a voicemail. Instead, he sends a message.

Yoongi: Can I come over?

You stare at the text for a long time, your stomach twisting with guilt and anger and sadness. Finally, you type out a single word:

You: No

You throw your phone face-down on the couch, ignoring the way it buzzes again and again and again.

For the next few days, you ghost him.

It wasn’t easy. Every time your phone buzzes, you feel a pang of guilt, a deep ache that gnaws at your resolve. But you can’t bring yourself to answer. You need time. You need to figure out where you stood in all of this.

His messages come sporadically at first:

Yoongi: Hey, can we talk? Yoongi: I don’t know what I did wrong, but I want to fix it. Yoongi: Please. Just let me know you’re okay.

You delete most of them without reading too much into them. But then he starts sending pictures.

The first was of Haneul, grinning in his chair, wearing the capybara slippers you’d gifted him for his birthday.

Yoongi: Haneul misses you

The next day, another photo. This time, Haneul was lying on his playmat, still wearing the slippers, holding onto Bora.

Yoongi: Still missing you

Each message chips away at your resolve, but the one that breaks you comes Thursday evening:

A short video clip. In it, Haneul is sitting on the floor, babbling as he clutches Bora. And then, clear as day, he says it:

“Sa-ra.”

Your heart twists painfully. It’s clipped, but it’s unmistakably sarang. Your term of endearment for him, the nickname you’d called him since he started smiling every time he heard it. He’d never been able to say it back—not until now.

And Yoongi knows exactly what he is doing, sending this to you.

You stare at the screen for what feels like an eternity, leaving the video on loop, before finally opening your call log. His name was right at the top, of course. You hit the call button, your hands trembling as you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” Yoongi’s voice comes through almost immediately.

You exhale shakily. “Hi.”

There was a pause. Then he speaks again, and you can hear his vulnerability. “I didn’t think you’d call back.”

You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself. “How could I ignore that video? Haneul… he said sarang.”

“Yeah, he’s been saying it non-stop since yesterday.”

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “Yoongi… about… us.”

“Mmh?” He didn’t interrupt, didn’t rush you. He just waited.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began. “Haneul deserves to have a complete family. He deserves to know his mom, to have her in his life. If—if that’s what you both want.”

Yoongi was quiet for a long moment before he finally responded. “But… he needs you, too.”

Before you can back out, “Yoongi, I need space,” you say finally, your voice trembling.

There was a pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “Okay.”

It wasn’t a protest. It wasn’t an argument. Just… okay. It’s the most ‘Yoongi’ reaction to things, and you hate it. You hate it so much.

You hang up, staring at the screen until it goes dark. Your chest felt heavy, your heart splintering in ways you didn’t know it could.

You’d told him you needed space and he said okay. The truth is, when you said space, you just wanted him to make room for you. To assure you that you belong with them. That there is a seat, warm and yours. But he didn’t.

You miss Yoongi so much it feels like a physical ache. But it’s not just him. You miss Haneul’s face, his giggles, his sleepy weight in your arms. 

Namjoon has been doing his best to check in. He sends you UberEats nearly every other day, a steady stream of meals you barely touch. The one time he came over, unannounced, he walked into what could only be described as a disaster.

“Jesus Christ,” Namjoon muttered, kicking a stray box out of his way as he entered your apartment. The laundry basket was overflowing, your trash can piled up. You were in a 2-day old shirt, hair a rat’s nest, and you’re slouched on the couch with an empty brain.

Namjoon stared at you, his disappointment radiating off him. “Y/N, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, barely looking at him.

He scoffed. “Fine? You look like you’ve been run over by a truck. Twice.”

“So dramatic.” You rolled your eyes, but the truth of his words stung.

Namjoon crouched in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. “Move in with me for now. You know I have the space. You can’t stay here like this. It’s not healthy.”

“I’m not moving in with you, Joon,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not your charity case.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re not a charity case. You’re my best friend. And I’m not gonna sit back and watch you drown in your own misery.”

“I’m not gonna live in your and Soyeon’s sex den,” you snapped unnecessarily.

Namjoon just looked at you, shook his head, before he flopped beside you on the couch. He fed you, forced you to go take a shower, and watched some shitty reality show with you. He eventually left, though you could feel the weight of his disappointment long after the door shut behind him. If he only knew how thankful you were of those visits.

A week later, you find yourself standing in front of Yoongi’s apartment. You didn’t plan this. You don’t even know what you’re hoping to achieve by being here. All you know is that the ache of missing them—missing him—has become unbearable.

You knock on the door before you can second-guess yourself.

Mrs. Kwon opens it, her expression immediately uneasy. “Y/N,” she says, her tone cautious. “You should come back another time.”

“Why?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

She hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s just… not a good time.”

“I need to see them,” you insist, stepping forward.

“My dear girl, please listen—”

But you’re already past her, your determination overriding her warnings.

When you step into the living room–

Fuck.

There she is. Sung Kyung, sitting on the floor with Haneul in her lap, holding a plush toy you don’t recognize. She’s smiling at him, her voice soft as she tries to coax him into playing with it. Adding salt to the wound–Bora, the capybara plush you gave Haneul, is discarded carelessly in the corner near the diaper pail.

Your heart stops, and before you can control yourself, you take a step back, your movement catching Sung Kyung’s attention. She looks up, confused. She doesn’t know you, why would she? 

Yoongi’s voice comes from behind you, and you turn to see him emerging from his studio, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Who rang the—”

His eyes widen when he sees you, but you’re already moving, your feet carrying you toward the door in a blind rush.

“Wait—Y/N!”

You barely hear him as you bend down and snatch Bora from the floor. Haneul’s voice suddenly cuts through the air, his tiny, excited voice calling out, “Sa-ra! Sa-ra!”

Tears blur your vision as you wrench the door open and run, Yoongi’s voice calling after you, but you don’t stop.

It’s raining when you step outside. Great, because this day couldn’t get any worse. The cold droplets soak through your clothes almost instantly. You don’t have an umbrella, but you don’t give a shit. Tears stream down your face mixing with the rain.

You don’t know how far you get before you feel it—a warmth against your back, arms wrapping around you tightly.

Yoongi’s voice cracks as he says your name, his rain-soaked body like a furnace against your shivering frame. “Please.”

He sounds like he is begging, but why? What is he asking? What does he want from you?

You shake your head, your voice breaking. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Then why did you?” he asks, his tone desperate, his chest heaving as he pulls you tighter.

“Because I thought… I thought I had a place here. But I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads, his voice barely audible over the rain as he turns you to face him. His hands come up to cradle your face. He was starting to shake too, the pads of his fingers damp against your skin. His eyes search yours, desperate, and before you can stop him—or yourself—he closes the space between you and kisses you.

Against the pouring rain, your lips press against each other, clumsy, shaky, unexpectedly urgent. His lips move like he’s trying to say all the things he can’t find the words for, like this is his only way to make you understand. And for a second, maybe a minute, maybe more, you let him.

You feel his ragged breaths as he licks into your mouth, his hair brushing your temple, droplets trailing down your skin. His hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, fingers threading gently through your wet hair. It’s tender and fierce all at once, like he’s afraid you might vanish if he lets go.

But there is a tinge of bitterness cutting through the taste of his kiss. This isn’t enough—not to fix everything, not to erase the doubt clawing at the edges of your mind. Not to prevent the new thoughts from worming its way inside.

Sung Kyung is in his apartment right now. So maybe it’s not just about Haneul anymore. Maybe they’re reconciling. Trying to sort out their own feelings that they put on ice. Yoongi did say he thought their relationship was going somewhere. 

God, you do not want to be some homewrecker. You cannot do that to Haneul. Weakly you try to pull back. 

But Yoongi doesn’t let you. His lips chase yours, teeth gently sinking into your plush and you’re unable to stifle the moan from your mouth at the delicious sting. You open up to him, lips sliding against his as his other hand grips your waist now, pulling you closer until you can really feel the heat of his body through the drenched fabric of his clothes. The world feels like it’s spinning, everything is blending into a dizzying blur, and you don’t know how to stop it.

Your hand hovers at his chest, not pushing him away but not pulling him closer either. Your heart is screaming to hold on just a little longer. But your head is telling you—

“No,” you whisper, breaking away as quickly as you can without slipping on the slick ground. Your chest heaves as you clutch Bora tighter against you.

Yoongi stands frozen, his lips parted as if he’s about to speak, his dark eyes locked on yours. The rain clings to his lashes, his hair plastered to his forehead, and for a moment, he looks completely lost.

“I can’t do this, Yoongi,” you choke out, your voice shaking. “I just… I can’t.”

And before he can stop you, you turn and run again, your feet splashing through puddles as you make your way to the nearest bus stop. By some miracle, you make your way home in one piece. Barring one vital organ that’s discarded somewhere in Hannam.

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I Got out of bed at all The morning rain clouds up my window And I can't see at all And even if I could, it'd all be gray But your picture on my wall It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad - Stan, Eminem

Your apartment is cold and quiet, the soft patter of rain against the windows the only sound. The mug of tea on your table has long since gone cold, untouched, as you sit curled up on the couch, staring at that grainy selca Yoongi sent you weeks ago. 

You’re startled out of your thoughts by the sound of the door opening. Namjoon steps in, shaking off the rain and holding a grocery bag in one hand, his hoodie slung over his shoulder. He’s soaked to the bone, but he flashes you his dimples anyway.

“You know,” he starts, setting the bag on the counter, “for someone who always claims they’re fine, you sure as hell don’t look it.”

“Don’t start, Joon,” you mumble, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

Namjoon ignores you, glancing around the apartment with a disapproving look. “Seriously? It still looks like you just moved in. No decorations, no warmth. This part could be a photo wall or something…”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, Mr. Art influencer.”

“I need a dry shirt,” he says, gripping the edge of his tee and pulling it up and over his head without fanfare.

You’ve never felt attracted to your best friend in any physical or sexual way ever (seriously, ew), but you can appreciate a good physique when you see one.

“Wow, Joonie, are your tiddies getting bigger?” you say as you stand to find a shirt for him from your makeshift closet.

“You’re an idiot.”

Before you can respond, the doorbell rings. Namjoon straightens, wiping his hands on his pants. “You expecting someone?”

You shake your head.

Namjoon strides to the door, glancing through the peephole with a tsk before pulling it open. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s shirtless, which would be awkward enough if it were anyone else standing there. 

But it’s Yoongi.

Yoongi stands in the hallway, his expression strained, his eyes immediately scanning the room behind Namjoon until they land on you, curled on the couch. You clutch the t-shirt you were about to lend Namjoon tighter against your chest, unsure whether to feel relief, anger, or the painful longing that’s been gnawing at you for days.

“I need to talk to her,” Yoongi says, his voice calm but heavy with emotion.

Namjoon steps into the doorway, crossing his arms as he blocks the entrance. “Maybe not today, hyung.”

Yoongi’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t flinch. “I have to. I need to explain.”

Namjoon doesn’t budge, his voice soft but firm. “Sorry, hyung. Not after everything.”

Yoongi’s eyes flick to you again, desperate. “I just… fuck,” He swallows hard, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t let her think she doesn’t matter to me. She does. More than anyone.”

Namjoon hesitates for the first time, glancing back at you. His expression softens briefly, but when he turns to Yoongi again, it’s your voice that responds.

“Yoongi.” Your voice is quiet, but it cuts through the tension like a blade. Both men turn to you, and the hope that flashes across Yoongi’s face makes your lungs shrivel.

You grip the fabric in your hands tighter, willing yourself to stay firm. “You should go.”

Yoongi’s lips part as if to argue, but the look in your eyes silences him. He nods once, slowly, his expression crumbling for just a moment before he turns away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it.

Namjoon watches him for a moment longer before stepping back into the apartment and shutting the door.

The first step is always the hardest.

Namjoon didn’t sugarcoat anything when he told you to get your shit together. “I love you,” he said bluntly after Yoongi left that rainy night, “but you’re the only one who can pull yourself out of this. No one else is coming to save you. Not me. Not Jiyong. Not Yoongi. Just you.”

You hated hearing it, but he was right.

So you took the first step: you called a therapist. Twice a week, you sat in that tiny, clinical room and talked about everything you’d buried for years. The abandonment issues you’d carried since childhood. The shame you felt after your relationship with Jiyong fell apart. The way you constantly give pieces of yourself to others, just like you did with Haneul and Yoongi, leaving nothing for yourself. Thinking that’s okay.

Session by session, the fog began to lift. Slowly, you started to understand that happiness couldn’t come from someone else, no matter how deeply you loved them. It had to come from you—built piece by piece, nurtured, protected.

You realized that loving yourself wasn’t selfish. It was necessary. And for the first time in months, you began to believe you were worthy of it.

At home, you started small. One night, you finally tackled the pile of laundry that had been haunting you for weeks. Another night, you scrubbed down the kitchen until the counters gleamed. And then one weekend, you went to IKEA and bought a bed frame—not just a functional one, but a beautiful one that made you feel excited to wake up in the mornings.

You even hung up paintings on the walls, little pops of color that made the apartment feel like it was actually yours. Namjoon gave you some from his collection, too.

Running sucks, but it became your nightly ritual. At first, it was hard. Your legs ached, and your lungs burned. But the more you pushed yourself, the better it felt—the rush of endorphins, the rhythm of your feet hitting the pavement, the way your thoughts quieted for just a little while.

Bit by bit, you started to feel lighter. Like you were shedding layers of weight you didn’t even realize you were carrying.

And then there was Yoongi.

He was still a constant name on your phone, though the tone of his messages had shifted over time. At first, his texts were full of apologies and pleas for a second chance:

Yoongi: I know I messed up. Please let me make it right.

Yoongi: I’m sorry for everything. I hate that I hurt you.

Yoongi: I need you, Y/N. I should have told you sooner.

Yoongi: Can I come over? I really want to explain everything.

Yoongi: I’m an idiot.

Yoongi: I’ll wait for you. Just tell me when you’re ready to talk.

Then came the texts about Haneul:

Yoongi: Haneul misses you. Not to one-up my own kid, but I miss you more.

Yoongi: Han said your name today. He kept pointing at the door like he was waiting for you to walk in.

Yoongi: I bought him a new Bora. This giraffe is lame. [image attached]

Yoongi: Han’s been carrying Bora 2.0 everywhere. He even tried to feed it rice last night.

And now, weeks later, his messages had settled into something different.

Yoongi: I was in the studio all day, and Hobi made me take a break. We ended up eating too much fried chicken and now I have a zit.

Yoongi: How was your run today? Namjoon says you’re joining a mini marathon. Good luck!

Yoongi: Still have boxes of Silver Moon tea. It’s too bougie for my ghetto taste buds. Lmk if you want it. Yoongi: Actually, no need. I'll send it thru Namjoon.

Yoongi: I fucked up the choreography to our new track at Mubank today like an amateur. I hope you didn’t get to watch it.

They were simple, almost mundane. But Yoongi’s texts had a way of hitting you square in the chest. You think back to that conversation in his home, the one where he admitted how lonely he sometimes felt—how he wished for someone to talk to about the little things, the big milestones, everything in between. Someone to share life with. And now, with every message he sends, it feels like he’s choosing you.

Even though weeks have passed without seeing him, he’s still there. Reaching out. Trying to stay connected. Even when you never reply.

But his messages have become tiny bursts of dopamine in your otherwise quiet days. You’re both surprised and relieved he hasn’t stopped trying, that he hasn’t grown tired of pouring himself into the void of your Kakao.

Namjoon told you recently that Yoongi and Sung Kyung have started co-parenting Haneul. She gets supervised visits twice a month. At first, the green-eyed monster threatened to come out. But your best friend tells you that Yoongi never wanted to rekindle anything with Sung Kyung, which gave you some peace. Maybe if you’d been braver back then, you could’ve asked Yoongi yourself. Maybe if Yoongi had been better at communicating, he would have told you then it wouldn’t have felt like such an uphill climb.

But, he was also having such a difficult time, sorting through his own circumstances. And your insecurities at the time were too heavy, too overwhelming to sift through. You probably wouldn’t have believed him then. The progress you’ve made now—to love yourself first—feels hard-won and necessary. And maybe Yoongi also needed to go on a journey to really know what he wants for him and Haneul.

You’ve come to realize through all this that you don’t really hate Sung Kyung. Maybe you were angry on behalf of Yoongi and Haneul for all the secrets she kept, for the ways her choices hurt them both. There was even a night when you found yourself doing a Naver search on postpartum depression. You hadn’t understood how debilitating it could be, how it could turn even the strongest person into a shell of themselves. It didn’t excuse everything, but it gave you perspective, especially as you battle your own demons.

Still, as you journey forward, there are moments when you imagine the “what ifs” with Yoongi, if Sung Kyung hadn't showed up that day. Sometimes, late at night, your mind drifts back to him. You replay his kiss, remembering the way it felt, the way he tasted. You can still conjure the image of his face under the rain, the way he looked at you in that fleeting, heart-wrenching moment.

You wonder if he thinks about it, too. You know he’s waiting. You just hope that when you’re finally ready to let him back in, he’ll still be there—on the other side, willing to try again.

One evening, Namjoon called, his tone unusually excited. “Hey, I’ve got something for you.”

“No, I don’t need more lube, I’m stocked,” you joked, just to be a piece of shit.

“Shut up and listen,” he said, laughing. “Hybe’s opening a daycare for employees’ kids. They need someone to run it. You’re perfect for this.”

Your stomach flipped. “What? Joonie, I don’t even—”

“Don’t even try to argue,” he interrupted. “You have a degree in early childhood education. You love kids. This was your literal job in the states. C’mon, this is made for you.”

“What if I’m not ready?”

Namjoon sighed. “You are. I’ve seen how much work you’ve been putting in. You’re stronger than you think. Just… apply. The worst they can do is say no.”

You’re quiet, so he added. “...and they won’t. I’ll have each member of Bangtan sign a recommendation letter for you.”

“You’re too much, Joonie,” you laugh. But you surely won’t put it past him to do that. “But ok, I’ll apply.”

So you did. And a week later, you got the call.

Your first day at Hybe’s daycare center feels like a dream you didn’t know you had. The space is beautiful—sunlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the colorful toys, tiny tables, and pastel murals. There are only three kids who pre-registered, but you were expecting more to walk in.

Namjoon is there, truly your ride or die, sitting casually on your desk with his ever-supportive grin. “You nervous?” 

“Nope,” you say, trying to sound confident. But the way your voice wavers gives you away.

Namjoon chuckles. “Relax. You’re going to crush this.”

Before you can respond, the door swings open, and in walks Hobi with Yunjin and their toddler, Jeongyeon. The little girl looks adorable in her sunflower-patterned overalls, her tiny pigtails bobbing as she walks toward the play area.

“Jeongyeon, say hi to teacher Y/N,” Yunjin says, gently guiding her forward.

“Hi!” Jeongyeon squeaks.

You crouch down to her level. “Hi, Jeongyeon! You’re gonna have so much fun today.”

“First kid of the day, ayeeee!" Hobi says, high-fiving Yunjin, before she runs to Jeongyeon who is mounting the toy pony. Then he turns to you, “Congratulations, Y/N.”

Just as they’re leaving, Namjoon nudges you. “By the way, did you know there’s a capybara mascot today?”

“What?” you blink, confused.

Before Namjoon can explain, something soft and warm suddenly envelops you in a hug. You turn to see a capybara mascot wrapping its plush arms around you, its giant head tilted adorably to the side.

“What the…” You laugh, surprised, grasping its arm. “Hybe really went all out, huh?”

Namjoon smirks. “Of course. First-day activations are a big deal here. And look at that, your favorite animal. What a coincidence.”

You grin, stepping back to look at the mascot. “Guess I’m a little biased, but this might be the cutest thing ever.”

The mascot gives you an exaggerated thumbs-up. 

Shortly, Haneul arrives. The moment you see him toddling through the door, all your nerves, all the weight you’d carried for weeks—gone. There’s no ache, no tension. Just pure, uncomplicated happiness.

His nanny, a kind older woman, walks him in, holding his hand as he peers curiously around the room.

Haneul bounds toward you giggling, his gummy smile stretching wide as he lets go of the nanny’s hand and waddles toward you.

“Hi, sarang,” you say, crouching down to scoop him into your arms. He smells like baby lotion and sunshine, and your chest feels full as he buries his face in your shoulder. “I missed you.”

You glance toward the door, your eyes darting around instinctively, but there’s no sign of Yoongi. A small pang of disappointment settles in your stomach before you shake it off. He’s probably holed up in his studio, working on something brilliant. It would have been nice to see him though.

The capybara mascot wanders over, drawing Haneul’s attention instantly. His eyes light up as he points at it, giggling.

“Appa!” Haneul says excitedly, punching the knee of the mascot with his tiny fists.

You laugh, brushing a hand through his soft hair. “That’s not your appa, Haneul. He’s probably in one of the big studios upstairs working very hard right now.”

The mascot gives you a pat on the head, and something about its movements feels oddly familiar. But you don’t dwell on it, too caught up in Haneul’s delighted squeals as the mascot does a little dance for him. It sure loves to shake its ass.

For the rest of the morning, you’re in your element, guiding the kids through activities, wiping tears, and singing songs during circle time. Every so often, Haneul points at the mascot and calls out “Appa!” again, and you can’t help but laugh.

And if the capybara mascot seems to hover a little longer around Haneul, or if it lingers near you whenever there’s a chance, well… you just chalk it up to coincidence.

(One day, much later, you’ll find out the truth. But for now, you’re content not knowing.)

That night, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out to find another message from Yoongi.

Yoongi: Congratulations on your first day!

You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. For the first time in weeks, as you look at your thread of messages from him, you let yourself smile—a small, cautious smile, but a smile nonetheless. And for the first time in months of radio silence, you type up your first reply to him.

You: Thanks, Yoongi. I’m really happy. :)

His reply came almost immediately.

Yoongi: You deserve it

And it may have taken a while, but you finally believe that. So you decide you are also finally ready to do this.

You: Can we talk? Yoongi: giv me 10 mins im cming overr

:)

A/N: 

Alright!! Wheeeew! You good? How are you feeling?!?!? As usual, please sound off in the comments. 💕

I just want to say that am so proud of this chapter. I think I wrote my best, angst work here. Plus - Kissing in the rain? Namtiddies? A taste of smau? Hee hee. 🤗 

If you make it to here, thank you so so much for reading this story, you lovely, beautiful, human! xo

Part 4 is coming uppp and it’s gonna be a doozy~ 🤭

P.S. As some of y’all know I am a mom and I have experienced post-partum depression before. It was nowhere near the severity of how it is depicted here (a condition that is grave and rare because the character also has other mental struggles), but I empathize. I cannot imagine being truly unfit to care for my own baby. So I request that we do not vilify L&L! LSK. She fucked up real baddd, she could’ve involved Yoongi earlier, etc etc but again she is trying to do better. Plusss, it needs to be said, she does not want Yoongi. Gasp. Y’all can rest easy. He’s yours! 💕

& If you want to read more of my work, please check out my masterlist. & If you enjoy my work and want to buy me a ko-fi, I'd appreciate it.

Taglist:

@yoongznme @nnybtitts08 @rinkud @nbjch05 @perfectiondazesworld

@marnz1990 @mxrauds @queenbloody @jadestonedaeho7 @futuristicenemychaos

@direnediane @glossdebut @maryhopemei @theresstardustinmyblood @mggv97

@wobblewobble822 @kam9404 @supernoonanyc @damn-u-min-yoongi @ot72025

@busanbby-jjk @granataepfelchen @jajabro @tarahardcore @marihoneywk

@ryryvna @tea4sykes @mar-lo-pap @lilkittenjenjen

@captainchrisstan @thelittlecatonthecake

@flaneuseonthestreets @sexytholland @diamonddia-mond

@yronathaniel @as-hs-blog @amarssfanfic @mafersame @amarawayne

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@jkkkkkay @chimmisbae @angellekookie @jovanaprime @txtsoobean @joonlovely

@kookiewithluv @soop-sprite @hyukaluve

[hgfictionwriter]

Revelations - Part Ten

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: An unexpected person reaches out to you and the pieces of your broken life continue to finally fall back into place.

Warnings: None.

A/N: The rest of the series is here.

"Hi Y/N. This is Sara. It's been a while and I hope you're doing well. I hope you don't mind me reaching out, but I'm doing so because Zoie would like to formally invite you to her birthday party this Sunday."

"Full disclosure. She's asked Jessie for weeks, but as I understand, Jessie's being very respectful of your wishes and doesn't want to push. That said, a soon-to-be 6-year-old doesn't really get it and doesn't care about things like that and is fairly relentless lol."

"She says she has so much fun with you and Jessie, and she doesn't know why the three of you can't keep doing that. And for the record, she loves her dinosaur shirt and gives me hell anytime I try to take it away to wash it. And when I asked her what she wanted for her birthday, one thing she said is she wanted you there - for all those other reasons - but also because Jessie was happiest when you were there. So, will you come?"

"If it doesn't feel right to you, that's okay. I get it. This entire thing has been a lot and I'm beyond sure none of it is what you pictured or wanted. I really didn't mean to crash your life. I really, really thought long and hard about bringing Jessie into Zoie's life. I ultimately felt I owed it to Zoie to. And I was terrified when I learned Jessie was engaged. I knew how this would potentially blow things up and I really didn't want that. I'm truly sorry it turned out the way it did."

"Anyway, you didn't ask for my story. My point was - not that you've asked - the way Jessie loves you is next level. She doesn't have to tell me a thing. It's apparent. It's special. I can tell any time she's talked with you. She's so much happier. It shows. And it's none of my business, but, if I were you, I'd maybe want to know."

"Okay. Now I'm done lol. If you don't reply, I'll leave you alone. No hard feelings."

You stared at the messages you came back to after your meeting. The last person's name you expected to show up on your phone was Sara's. She obviously thought you'd deleted her - you hadn't.

You and her had talked very minimally one on one, and always in a - more or less - forced capacity. And certainly never about topics like this. Again, you'd never hated her as a person. She seemed, well, perfectly fine. She just represented the force that brought your world as you knew it crumbling down.

But now here she was offering you a lifeline.

You needed a breath.

You backed out of your conversation with Sara and over to your one with Jessie. She was still in Canada with Zoie and you'd been texting intermittently since your impromptu reunion.

The texts had been light, both of you purposefully evading critical questions and topics knowing you were going to talk more when she got back. That said, the messages between you were more easy than before. And even if they weren't explicitly affectionate, there were undertones.

You smiled at the last messages from her. A picture of Zoie all done up in her snowsuit and playing in Jessie's parents' backyard along with a message of, "Someone loves the snow."

A dull ache formed in your chest, but it wasn't the same as before. Before, the ache had torn at you, gnawing, painful and malignant. But this new ache was different. It was longing and sweet. Something to chase; something to not be scared of.

You went back to Sara's messages.

“What does Zoie want for her birthday?”

-----------

While you'd felt eerily calm leading up to the weekend, as you parked your car down the street from Sara's place your nerves started to make themselves known again.

You stared steadily at the house, spotting Jessie's car parked out front.

Jessie didn't actually know you'd be here today. You don't know why you chose not to tell her. You even asked Sara not to mention anything. Who knows, maybe Sara thought you wanted to keep it down low in case you bailed. No expectations and no hurt feelings for anyone, then.

Maybe you were woefully misreading things, but you almost felt like it could be a good surprise.

You took a deep breath and picked up the gift you'd wrapped for Zoie and got out of your car and walked towards the front door. Your heart raced, hoping, for whatever reason, Jessie wouldn't see you before Sara did. You needed to get some things off your chest.

Sara told you prior to just open the door and come inside. So you did. Quietly. Tentatively.

Your eyes darted around the room.

There was a handful of kids running around - Zoie was still pretty new at her school, but had clearly managed to forge some friendships there, at dance, at swimming.

No surprise. She was just as likable as Jessie.

Then, there were a few adults mingling about. Mostly parents, you assumed, watching over things, playing with the kids, or chatting idly amongst themselves.

That former sense of 'otherness' threatened to rise up within you again, but you dismantled it this time. You weren't going to feel that way again. You were invited. You were asked to be here. You were wanted.

Then you saw a glimpse of them. Jessie was in the other room where the kids were running in and out of. Zoie was hanging off of Jessie's back, a kid latched onto each of her legs as she playfully lumbered around, the kids all laughing and yelling as they hung off of her.

You turned as Sara was coming out of the kitchen and you almost collided.

"Oh my god," she said with a laugh. Her eyes lit up as she took you in. "You came! I'm so glad."

As you saw this woman for the first time in months - this woman who was the source of so much angst and upheaval in your life - you felt a flash of anxiety. Like some emotional PTSD.

But it faded as she smiled at you. She was just a girl whose own life had been turned upside down many years ago. Her own future permanently changed; visions and dreams as she’d planned them no longer the same.

She’d gone it alone. Turned her circumstances into something to be cherished. And, in time, and justly so, decided to do right by her daughter. And Jessie.

She wasn’t a monster. She didn’t come into your life with malintent. You’d been caught in the shockwaves and fallout, but it wasn’t her fault or her intention.

She certainly didn’t need to try to save your relationship with Jessie. To keep you in Zoie’s life. In fact, it would’ve been much easier on her to have Jessie and Zoie to herself.

But she reached out to you anyway.

You felt your cheeks heating up. "Yeah. Thanks again for inviting me."

She shook her head. "Of course. You were very much wanted at this party. Someone had to tell you," she said with a smirk.

"Here. This is for Zoie," you said as you extended the gift. Sara gently pushed it back to you.

"Why don't you give it to her," she smiled, before adding with a smirk, "But she can't open it until after cake. Don't let her tell you otherwise."

You chuckled. “Sure. I’ll watch out for that.”

A beat passed and your pulse picked up again. You'd gone over in your head countless times what you wanted to say, and if you were going to say it, now would be the time.

"Um, this day is about Zoie, so I'm not going to take your focus away for long, but I want to just say something really quick," you said. Sara listened attentively.

“I wanted to say thank you for what you said the other day. I think I needed to hear it from someone other than Jessie. And, honestly,” you bit back a weak laugh, “you’re the most impartial, in a way. If it was Janine. Sinc. Elysse. Whoever, I feel like it wouldn’t have been the same. So, thank you, it means a lot.”

“I’m glad you weren’t upset that I reached out,” Sara admitted. “I mean, yes, Zoie absolutely kept badgering me and Jessie to invite you," she chuckled, "but beyond that, yeah."

She took a breath.

"I know it’s not my business. I mean, yes, Jessie’s life impacts Zoie’s, but Jessie’s obviously free to make her own choices and decisions. And honestly, I have no clue what ultimately went down between you two. None of my business either! I'm really just piecing things together from glimpses I've gotten during drop-off and pick-up, and things Zoie mentions.” She shrugged vaguely. “Jessie plays things very close to the vest, but - even if she never says anything - it’s obvious where she’s at and how she feels about you even now. And I wasn’t kidding - Zoie’s enchanted by you. Must run in the genes,” she said with a sly smirk before growing serious again. “So, this seemed like the right opportunity to say something.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you processed her words. You weren't expecting her to say more than she did the other day.

But again, here you were. Jessie wasn't exactly confiding in Sara. She hadn't fallen into Sara's arms in your absence. It was even obvious to Sara, her ex, the mother of her child, that Jessie was still in love with you.

Your mind sharpened once more and you remembered what you planned to say. You cleared your throat.

"Thank you. I, um, I know things have been complicated. I don’t know how much has fallen back on you, or Zoie, during all of this. I hope not much at all. And I'm sorry for anything that did. I know things couldn’t have been easy for you either. A lot of big decisions along the way, uprooting your life and Zoie’s, rebuilding, introducing new family and friends into her life and yours. That’s a lot of change for anyone. You didn't know what you were going to find. That took a huge amount of courage. And I know you did it for Zoie and I respect that.” You took a quick breath. “But it really means a lot that you shared what you did. I know you didn't need to. So, thank you for this."

Your eyes drifted away before returning to her.

"I don’t exactly know what the future holds. But, I know that if I’m a part of Jessie’s life, I’m a part of Zoie’s. And I want you to know I don’t take that for granted. You've raised a really, really special girl. Zoie's wonderful. And even if I’ve been in and out of the picture, I really do care about her. A lot. I mean, she's great - full stop. But she's also a part of Jessie, which means...," you trailed off, not quite ready to declare to her that by proxy alone you'd of course love Zoie.

You took a quick breath.

"Anyway, I'm sure this is no surprise to you, but Zoie's made Jessie's life infinitely better. So, please don’t ever feel bad for bringing Jessie into her life. That little girl deserves to have her mama in her life, and Jessie deserves her just the same.”

Sara smiled appreciatively, taking a moment of her own. “Thank you. That really means a lot.”

Her gaze shifted over to the other room where Zoie was.

"And yeah, Zoie's pretty's amazing," she said as she faced you again. "I'm grateful for her. She was - certainly - a surprise. But an incredible one and I can't imagine my life without her now. And she just adores Jessie. If Zoie's made Jessie's life infinitely better, well Jessie has 1000% done the same for Zoie. I'm grateful to have her presence in Zoie's life."

Her tone was earnest already, but it grew more-so and she held your gaze pointedly. "There's lots of room for you in that life too, if you want it."

You were about to respond when you heard your name yelled from across the house.

"That's your cue," Sara said under her breath with a laugh.

You turned to see Zoie haphazardly climbing down off of Jessie and running towards you. Your attention was split between Zoie sprinting your direction and Jessie standing there shell-shocked, two other kids still hanging off of her.

"Happy birthday!" You greeted with a bright smile as your mind righted itself. You extended the gift to Zoie, but she bypassed it, running straight into your legs in a tight hug, sending you back a step with the force behind it. You laughed, reaching an arm down to embrace her.

"Zoie, my God," Sara laughed. "Take it easy, sweetie."

"You came!" Zoie exclaimed as she pulled back to look up at you.

"I couldn't miss your birthday," you told her as your hand came to her head affectionately. You knelt down in front of her and gave her a more fulsome hug.

"Mama, you invited her," Zoie smiled as she turned partially in your arms to look at Jessie with a laugh.

You looked up to see Jessie, now disentangled, tentatively approaching. Her mind obviously still processing everything. She looked between you and Sara perplexed, but a smile of awe and surprise crossed her face.

"I, um," Jessie stammered and Sara cut in.

"Honey, let's let mama and Y/N catch up. You'll get some more time with Y/N later, okay?" She said.

Zoie pulled back a touch, her arms still around you and pouted slightly. You held out the gift to her again.

"Here, this is for you. Why don't you go put it with the others," you said. The gift seemed the perfect distraction and she grabbed it and ran to Sara's side.

"What do you say?" Sara prompted her, disbelieving and mouthing you an apology.

"Thank you!" Zoie said with a toothy grin before running off once more.

Jessie was just closing the space when you rose to your feet, now face to face with her. Her eyes searched you in wonder, that smile still tugging at her mouth.

"W-what are you doing here?" She asked, eyes curious and hopeful.

"Sara invited me," you answered. Jessie's expression changed immediately and her head snapped around to look in the direction the woman had departed. She looked back to you right away with a frown.

"It's all good," you said as you nervously tucked your hair behind your ear. "She, um, she told me that Zoie wanted to invite me. She said you wouldn't - but I know why."

Jessie opened her mouth to defend herself and you held up a hand, gently coaxing her to stop.

"You're not mad that I showed up, are you?" You asked, though a faint smile pulled at your lips. Jessie did a double-take, adamantly shaking her head.

"No. Oh my God. No, of course not," she readily assured you. She frowned before giving an airy laugh. She took a moment to find her words, her cheeks growing red. "I'm...I'm very happy that you showed up."

"I wondered if you might be. Hence why I didn't say anything when you were away," you said, a playful smile now finally crossing your face.

She smiled wider with another shake of her head. "Yeah. Wait, when did this all happen?"

"This week. You were already at your parents' with Zoie," you relayed. She nodded slowly, an adorable frown on her face as she put the pieces together.

"And, thanks for texting me while you were away," you added. "It was nice to get updates. Felt like I was almost there sometimes," you finished more shyly than you'd intended. She gave you a grateful smile.

"Of course. You were-" she stopped for a second, centering herself and giving a nod as she offered you a quiet smile. "You were missed."

You nodded, much the same as her and wearing a quiet smile of your own.

You felt light.

"Okay. Well, this is Zoie's day, so I don't want to get too deep into things. But," you said slowly, your gaze drifting away momentarily before you smiled at Jessie once more, "if you'd like to take me up on that offer to talk, you could ask me out for coffee sometime." You held her gaze and added in emphasis. "Not as friends."

Jessie stood before you and you could see quiet shock come over her. Her eyes didn't leave yours, but you could see them dart across your face, looking for any signal of a misunderstanding.

Her eyes started to well and she let out a breath that sounded more like a stifled sob.

"Are you serious?" She asked, her eyes shimmering further as her eyebrows furrowed together, her emotions plain.

You smiled softly back at her and simply nodded.

"I mean, I could ask you out if you like," you said before you rest a hand on your hip and tapped your lips facetiously. "Hmm, you seem like someone who would like...[whatever we think Jessie's coffee of choice is]."

Jessie let out a watery laugh as she stepped forward and pulled you into her arms, hugging you tightly to her. You reciprocated immediately as you laughed gently in her ear.

"Oh my god," she said, her voice thick with emotion as she rocked you in place.

She sniffled and wiped at her eyes as she stepped back. Her face was bright red as she looked at you and your heart felt like it could burst.

"W-will you go out for coffee with me?" She asked, a slight stutter in her voice as she rode out her emotions. She laughed, wiping at another stray tear. "On a date."

You nodded readily, echoing her soft laugh.

"I'd love to."

"Mama?"

You both glanced down to see Zoie coming up, tugging lightly on Jessie's pant leg and looking up at her very concerned.

"What's wrong?" Zoie asked, looking so worried.

Jessie nearly started crying again. She gave a tearful laugh and bent down to scoop Zoie up into her arms, hugging her tightly.

"Nothing's wrong, sweetie. I promise," she said as she kissed Zoie's cheek. "I'm not sad. I'm great. I'm really happy. These are happy tears," she said with a sniffle as she held her close.

Zoie seemed to contemplate Jessie's explanation. She watched her carefully, though still a bit confused.

"Well, what are you happy about?" Zoie inquired. Jessie's gaze flit over to you before returning back to her daughter's.

"Y/N and I were just having a good conversation. And it made me very happy," she said. "Sometimes people cry when they're happy."

Zoie was still skeptical.

"Well, what were you talking about?"

Jessie shot you a look and you stepped in.

“Your mama’s right, Zoie. Tears aren’t always sad,” you reinforced. “In this case? Just boring adult talk.”

“What adult talk?” Zoie asked innocently. With this amount of determined curiosity, she was certainly Jessie’s child.

"Coffee," you said flatly for effect. "Kind of boring? Right?" Zoie made a face and you smiled at her before distracting. "Hey, how has dance been?"

Zoie's eyes lit up and she wriggled in Jessie's arms to be let down. Jessie set her down with a laugh and Zoie grabbed you by the hand to pull you into a more open area.

"I want to teach you my routine," she said excitedly. "I tried to teach Mama, but she’s not very good at it," she relayed very matter of fact and you stifled a laugh.

Zoie began showing you her routine and you played along, following her disjointed, but enthusiastic motions.

When you weren't paying attention to Zoie's choreography, your eyes were drawn to Jessie who now leaned back against the wall watching you both with a weepy smile, wiping at her tears with the sleeve of her hoodie now and then.

As Zoie showed you the steps, her hair wispy and wild in a messy pony tail, her cheeks rosy, smiling up at you and looking so much like Jessie’s baby photos - you recalled what Jessie told you so many months ago.

“How can I look at her and feel like my life is ruined?”

That argument seemed like another life now. The sorrow and insidious pain that coursed through you every moment during that period was a mere memory now.

As you smiled down at Zoie and over at Jessie who watched you both adoringly, you understood what Jessie meant. You felt it.

When you finished, Zoie ran off to rejoin her friends and Jessie approached you, still sniffling. She exhaled in self-effacing exaggeration.

"I'm a mess," she said.

"You're lovely," you countered without missing a beat.

Jessie shook her head slowly, looking at you with love like all the years before, but part of it felt new - deeper - as well.

"I love you so damn much," she said. She cracked a smirk a moment later. "That's totally appropriate to say before a first date, right?"

You laughed and you drew her into a kiss, soft and slow.

"Completely."

A/N: Not quite done yet. One more chapter.

Tag requests: @ryuushou @marvelwomen-simp @valuyhh

[anomaliex]

I'm a wavy-curly hair Riz believer forever. (Probably mostly from Pok but also I think Sklonda straightens her hair. Miscellaneous hair headcanons.) I think he's never taken care of it a day in his life so it's really matted and looks wavy at BEST. I think it takes Fabian really long to even REALISE this but when he does he grabs him like The Ball. What the fuck are you doing. Let me fix it The Ball let me FIX it. And then he buys him product that he won't use (unless they're like sleeping over and Fabian will do it for him) and Fabian cringes every time it comes up that Riz doesn't take care of his hair. Tragic. Please wear a bonnet The Ball,,,,or get a better pillowcase. Please The Ball. Please.

Riz is sometimes mildly annoyed but always allows it. Also someone else washing/combing/etc your hair feels really nice and intimate so maybe he needs that. Even if he goes really really uncharacteristically quiet and sits really still and tries not to be weird Abt it. Lol.

I'm so serious I think he inhales SO sharply and mentally goes "oh." and he's so tense but he's also never relaxed into anything this much before. And it's like, wow, you can't super tell your best friend "hey man I have never felt this loved by anyone but my mother in my life. Sometimes I'm not sure if you guys value me or if I have to earn it but you're making me feel REALLY cared about right now. I'm gonna cry and throw up now thanks bro I love you." without making it weird. So he just has to sit there. Silently.

Anyway speaking of Fabian and hair I love you fantasy high artists who refuse to accept straight hair Fabian as canon throwing myself at your feet and everything. Personally I think he's mostly in the 3b-3c range because every mixed character has to be just like me fr. Also I love when ppl draw his hair braided for junior year eugjendld

[carnalcrows]

PROJECT WOES - CHEONGSAN

pairing: lee cheong-san x reader

synopsis: The two of you fight. A lot. Neither of you really know why thought. What happens when the both of you get partnered up for a project?

content warnings: They just make out lol, everything is pretty tame here.

word count: 0.6k

Cheongsan had never hated a school project more in his life.

And that was saying something.

There were a lot of things he could tolerate. Long nights cramming for exams? Fine. Dodging Gwi-nam’s bullshit every day? Manageable. But this? This?

This was hell.

"You can stop glaring now," you said, not even looking up from your phone.

He scoffed, dropping his bag onto your desk with more force than necessary. "I’m not the problem here."

You snorted. "Yeah? Then why do you look constipated?"

He exhaled sharply, biting back a very colourful response. "Because I’d rather be doing anything else right now."

"Wow. Your flirting skills are amazing."

He shot you a glare, but you just grinned, clearly enjoying his suffering.

The worst part?

No one—not even he—knew why the hell you two were like this.

You didn’t hate each other. You weren’t enemies. Hell, you were even chill with his friends.

But with him?

For some reason, every conversation turned into a verbal sparring match. Every single time.

And now, thanks to this godforsaken history project, he was stuck in your room for the next two hours, listening to you be insufferable.

"Alright, let’s get this over with." You slid your laptop in front of him. "You write, I research."

Cheongsan frowned. "Why do I have to write?"

"Because your handwriting looks like an AI-generated font."

"And you think I’m constipated? Damn, you are flirting."

"Cheongsan, please. I have standards."

He gawked at you, absolutely seething. "You—"

"Oi, brats!" Your older sister’s voice rang through the hallway. "If you break anything, you’re both dead!"

"We’re fine!" you called back. Then, turning back to Cheongsan, you smirked. "You might not be, though."

Cheongsan grumbled under his breath and cracked his knuckles, forcing himself to focus. "Let’s just start."

For a while, it was fine.

Mostly.

You still annoyed him every five minutes. He still snarked back. But the work was getting done.

And then?

It happened.

To this day, Cheongsan still wouldn’t know what exactly changed.

Maybe it was the way you leaned over his shoulder, way too close as you pointed at something on his laptop screen.

Maybe it was the way your breath fanned against his ear, the scent of your shampoo way too distracting.

Maybe it was the way he turned his head just as you looked up—only for your faces to be inches apart, the heat between you shifting from hostile to something... completely different.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you spoke.

The room felt way too quiet.

And then—

Your lips were on his.

Cheongsan barely had time to process before his body reacted—grabbing onto you, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss before he could even think about what he was doing.

And god, it was good.

He should’ve expected you to be a tease, but the way you nipped at his bottom lip, the way you tilted your head just right—it was unfair.

His grip tightened on your waist, fingers digging in, and you hummed against his mouth, a low, satisfied sound that sent a shiver down his spine.

His brain was screaming at him, but he did not care.

Not when you pushed him back against your desk, not when your hands slid under his hoodie, not when you—

"WHAT THE FUCK."

Cheongsan jerked away so fast he almost fell over.

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. "Goddamn it."

Your sister stood in the doorway, horrified. "In my house? In my presence?!"

"Technically, it’s my house too," you muttered.

"Not the point!"

Cheongsan was mortified.

Your sister pointed an accusatory finger at the two of you. "You owe me therapy. Both of you."

Then, with a dramatic shudder, she slammed the door shut behind her.

Silence.

Then—

You snorted.

And then Cheongsan snorted.

And then the both of you were wheezing, half-doubled over in laughter, because what the hell just happened?

"I hate you," Cheongsan wheezed, shaking his head.

You grinned, smug as ever. "Yeah?" You leaned in, brushing your lips against his ear. "You kiss me like you don’t."

His face burned. "Shut up."

But when you kissed him again, he didn’t exactly stop you.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[lotusloong]

If you're cool with song fics, would you do one based on "Suffering "from Epic: The Musical? (It has a choke hold on me for the past few days...) I personally don't know which Wukong is most fitting, though...

Waiting

Relationship: Sun Wukong X Female Reader

AN: HHOOOOOO okay! So first off, I fucking love greek myth, and I love the take of Epic the Musical, amazing songs. 

So I really really really liked this request! I hope I did it justice, I like to think I did, at least the first half lol. 3k words in im like ‘some smut would pair really nice with this’ and another 4k words later here we are. I have more requests cooking, this one just ended up getting away from me a bit lololol! I also wasn’t sure which Wukong this prompt works best with so I left it up to personal preference! I hope you like it ♥

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, like...really horny smut, Violence, Wukong losing his temper, Wukong wanting to be a baba, Slight Pregnancy talk sprinkled throughout, I have a kink okay don't judge, Let me know if I missed any tags pls

Read it on AO3!

The wood of the long boat felt sturdy under his feet and the gentle breeze felt cool against his fur, but Wukong kept his gaze on the still water. The keeper of this valley had warned them of a shapeshifter in this lake, and the Monkey King was not willing to let his Master drown today. He had been tempted to take the group the long way around, through the mountain range, but the longer path would have meant more opportunities for other yaoguai to attack. In the end they agreed to take a short cut across the lake itself, his fellow disciples agreeing to surround the Tang Monk if trouble showed up and let Wukong handle the tricky nature of the shapeshifter.

The boat ride has been peaceful so far, and they were over halfway across the lake. And that's when he felt an unfamiliar magic probing at his mind. If he were a lesser demon, he probably wouldn't have noticed it.

“My darling?” The surface of the water broke with a gentle ripple, and suddenly Wukong was looking down at a familiar face. 

Your face. 

The creature dared to wear your skin, to use your voice, to trick him. 

“Don't you miss me?” Your voice sounded like music to his ears. It had been so long, too long, since he had last heard it…

He almost felt grateful to the yaoguai, for reminding him of how you sounded. That gratefulness wouldn't protect them from his simmering rage, however. It was insulting that they would dare try to use you against him, as if they had the right to try and imitate your beauty.

He leaned over the edge of the long boat just enough to show interest and quickly hit his tail against the wooden floorboards. His ear flicked at the sound of Bajie and Wujing moving closer to Tang Sanzang and Bai Long Ma.

He had to put on a show to distract the shapeshifter, and that's something the Monkey King was renowned for. 

“...More than you know.” He spoke, his voice soft. He didn't like being so obviously vulnerable about his feelings towards you to a stranger wearing your face, but they say all the best lies have sprinkles of truth in them. At his words the yaoguai moved closer, looking the picture of innocence. It wasn't you, and it was more obvious the closer Wukong looked. 

Your eyes, normally so bright and alive, looked shades darker than they were supposed to be, as if there was no distinguishable pupil. Your hair wasn't the same, the color was also the wrong shade and the texture didn't look right. Even your smell, the sweetest and most intoxicating scent he had ever had the pleasure of breathing in, wasn't right. This fake-you smelled of kelp and bad lake water.

It filled him with fury, an anger so strong he desperately wanted to give in to it, to let it control him as he beat this thing into the muck for daring to use your perfect image against him. 

“Then come in the water and kiss me~” Not-you purred, fluttering its eyelashes in a way that made his stomach churn. His tail twitched in irritation, and not-you’s eyes followed the movement. He had to keep playing along.

“My love I've told you this before-” He looked at the dark water before him, lifting a foot and taking a hesitant step back from the side of the boat. “You know I'm afraid of the water.” He wrapped his tail around his leg in an act of embarrassment and shame. Not-you's eyes widened, looking from him to the water with surprise. It was quickly covered up, confusion in their voice as they kept trying to soothe him.

“I'll make sure you're safe, love. This isn't nearly as deep as the Eastern Ocean, when you went to visit the Dragon King…?” They started hesitantly, watching his reaction to their words. Wukong gave them a pleading look, making up an excuse on the spot. 

“But his palace is at the bottom of the sea. It's not as…scary to sink in water when you have to go down that deep anyways…” For a moment he worries they won't believe him, their brow furrowing in disbelief. Then suddenly, their eyes light up, and they smile with a grin that is much too wide for your mouth.

“Oh! Y-yes, I had forgotten! Because of the stone you came from, you sink in water!”

“Yes, exactly, hehe…” Not exactly. He could swim no problem. He glanced over his shoulder to his companions, still huddled protectively around their Master as the distant shoreline grew closer and closer. Just a little more, and with his Master safe on dry land he would take great pleasure in tearing this yaoguai apart for their transgressions.

“Well, you don't have to worry about that here. I'll be with you! And…and you can come see our little ones! They miss you terribly, you know.” He felt a sting in his chest at the thought of his monkeys, at how they must be doing at home with you, slowly rebuilding from the damaged remains of your shared mountain. 

“I'd love that, but…” He shifted on his feet again, staring at the still water like it might bite him. He saw not-you stifle a roll of their eyes, swimming closer still. They looked at him then, and Wukong could feel that same gentle probing at his mind, matching the magic he felt earlier. He braced himself for what they would say next, biting his tongue until he tasted iron to keep his anger in check. The shore was right there-

“...Our daughter also misses you, love. Won't you come with me to see her?” 

The absolute fucking gall of this creature. 

The anger he pushed away comes flooding back full force, so intense and burning it feels like he's on fire. Perhaps he is, considering how the creature in front of him looks suddenly terrified, their face - not yours, it could never be as beautiful as yours - suddenly lit up by a vivid red glow from his eyes.

They try to swim away, but it's too late. He feels the boat lurch underneath him as Bajie drags it onto the sandy bank, and his hand shoots out to grip the forearm of the shapeshifter with enough strength to bruise. His claws dig into skin that's not as soft as yours as thin rivulets of blood leak down to their elbow, dripping into the water below. They immediately cry out, using their free hand to pull and hit at his own arm, for all the good it will do them. He catches another whiff of their scent and his nose crinkles in distaste, canines on display. 

“How dare you.” He growls. He didn’t have a daughter. He wasn’t allowed one, no matter how desperately he wanted such a thing. “You dare use magic to look at my inner desires!? To use them against me!?” The shapeshifter looks terrified, their shaking form slowly losing shape as their hold on their magic fails at their internal panic. 

He had wanted to start a family with you, since the beginning of your relationship. Many early days of your courtship had included the two of you spending time together, cloud watching and fruit picking on the lush mountain ridge of Mount Huaguo as you talked and talked for hours at a time. It was then he learned what love was, what a mate was, that he wanted you by his side forever. And during those months you talked about what you would want in the future, and the topic of families and children came up.

He had loved the idea from the beginning, seeing you surrounded by little ones with his fur color and your eyes, or your smile and his laugh. It was a far-off daydream the two of you shared in whispered breaths, foreheads pressed together as you lay side by side under a cloudy sky and imagined what your kids would be like, who they would grow into.

But those dreams had never had a chance to start.

He had grown worried for the future, the concept of mortality weighing heavily on his mind. He didn't want to say goodbye to his people, to you or your possible children. So he set off with the promise to find immortality and return to share it with you and your subjects. That was the start of it all, his quest leading to him wanting to better defend his home, to get a proper weapon to protect those closest to him, and eventually…the Celestial Realm taking notice of him.

For over 500 years your shared desire to have a family had been put on hold as he dug himself deeper and deeper into trouble with the other gods. You had stayed by his side through it all, until he was trapped away by the Buddha. When Guanyin finally released him, he rushed to where the Jade Emperor held you captive and freed you with a desperate kiss.

Now you were back home, trying to rebuild a kingdom from the ground up without him, because he had to be ‘redeemed’ in the eyes of heaven.

Wukong knew it had been painful for you. It had been painful for him.

Now his only goal was to deliver his new Master across the continent and back so he could finally fly back into your waiting arms and live happily with you. And this time, he would stay. Stay, and start that family you both so desperately wanted.

How dare this vile thing try to use that against him.

“I should kill you now, you pathetic wretch.” He hissed, dragging the shapeshifter up and out of the water to be closer to him, the surface of the lake splashing. Fear filled its eyes, and it whimpered in fright. It was still your voice, however poorly imitated, and it made him hesitate for just a moment. The yaoguai noticed, and immediately tried to take advantage.

“M-my love, you’re hurting me! Please, please stop!” It cried, and tears gathered in its too dark eyes. Wukong huffed, trying to ignore the instinct to not hurt his mate, knowing it wasn’t really you. He dragged the shapeshifter closer, gripping them by the neck with his free hand, delighted by the choked gasp they released.

“How many of you are there?” He growled, voice raspy and dark with promises of harm. Not-you shook in his grasp, throat bobbing under his palm as they tried to breathe. Their voice changed when they next spoke, the illusion falling further apart.

“I-I’m sorr-y-! Mercy, m-mercy puh-please!” They cried, real tears of distress running down their cheeks, which were slowly growing scales and changing color. Not satisfied, Wukong loosened his grip just enough for the wretch to stop choking and answer his question.

“Tell me! How many of you are there?” He gave it a good shake to get his urgency across, and the creature wailed further at this treatment. “Tell me or I’ll drain this entire lake and kill every living thing I find!” He hissed. He heard his Master on the shore, a displeased noise at the threat.

“M-my pack! My pack is here b-bu-but they won’t-! Please, pl-ease! I-I am s-s-so s-sorr-yy!” Wukong snorted in response, his breath billowing from his nose in a steamy cloud, framing his face. His glowing eyes looked like hot coals as he glared at the yaoguai. Bajie and Wujing looked over the surface of the lake from where they stood on the sand, wary and waiting for another shapeshifter to burst from the water. The one Wukong held by the throat thrashed and whimpered some more.

“I-I’ll tell them to-! Huughh-to le-eave-! I-! I just wanted immortality! The m-monk-!” Wukong gave the creature another shake at their words.

“So you think to take my Master!? To use the face of my wife!? You dare look through my mind and use my desires against me!?” He was heating up, smoke billowing from his mouth as the desire to burn this creature to a crisp festered inside him. Or perhaps a shock of lighting to permanently scar it? His eyes glowed a deeper red, and the faint smell of urine hit his nose.

The wretch had wet themselves.

Disgusted, Wukong threw it back into the water, snarling as he did so and stepping on to the sandy bank himself. The creature scrambled and fumbled with trembling limbs in the shallows to get into a frantic kowtow. More of its true form was on display now, a thick fishy tail and claws on display.

“Pl-please, let us go Great Sage-! I’ll-! You’ll never see us again, we won’t ever attack any other travelers!” They pleaded. Wukong growled low in his throat, the desire to kill this wretch screaming at him to finish the job, but a gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him. He jolted, looking behind him to see his Master.

“I believe they have learned their lesson. Why not show mercy?” The Tang monk smiled, a pleading look in his eyes. Wukong snorted, clenching and unclenching his fists. He stalked forward, giving the yaoguai a swift kick to the side that sent it sprawling.

“By the grace of my Master, you live. Get out of my sight.” The words had hardly been spoken before the shapeshifter fled, disappearing in a puff of mist. Wukong turned away from the sullied lake water, to the approving gaze of his Master. Tang Sanzang lifted a hand, intending to place it on his head.

“I am very proud of you, my student-” The monkey ducked away from his touch, furious still. His tail thrashed behind his every step as he walked.

“I should have killed the damn creature. Pretending to be my beloved, the fucking gall they have-!” He stalked past Bajie, who side-stepped away from him and his anger, sending a panicked look to their other companions as Wukong jumped into the trees. Tang monk held up a hand to his students, a sign to leave the monkey be, his eyes concerned.

“Why don’t we camp near the area for tonight? Wujing, Bai Long Ma, would you start setting up? Bajie, accompany me as I look for mushrooms? I have a craving for them tonight.” The others nodded at the words of their Master.

Wukong did not return until the sun was sinking towards the horizon in the late afternoon.

He did not speak to anyone, simply walking through their camp and jumping into the lower branches of a tree, sitting and staring out into the wilderness. His tail hung low beneath the branch, flicking back and forth, showing how agitated his thoughts still were. Sanzang waited a few minutes before standing, making his way to the base of the tree and sitting comfortably under it. Wukong’s tail continued to flick by his head.

“This area seems rather safe.” The monk spoke.

“Hmph.” Was the only response he got. The monk took a deep breath, trying to keep the smile off his face as he spoke again.

“I think it would be fine to settle here for a couple days. To let us rest before moving on. The mountain range ahead will be quite challenging to cross.” Wukong sat in silence still. “I would also think…it would be safe for you to leave us for those couple days.”

The tail stopped its twitching, freezing in place.

“You travel so far and so fast with no issue, it wouldn’t surprise me if you jumped all the way back to your mountain and came back within the span of three days! It wouldn’t be a challenge for you, in any case.” There was shifting on the branch above him, a single leaf fell and landed on his lap.

“...Are you sure, Master?” The Monkey King’s voice was soft, a whisper filled with hope. The monk couldn’t fight the urge to smile anymore.

“Be back before sunset three days from now.” Is all he said. The rustling of the trees and the sound of the wind was his only response. When the Tang monk opened his eyes and looked up, the tree was empty.

~~~~~~~

You push your arms high over your head as you stretch your back, spine popping as muscles pulled in a satisfying way that had you sighing in relief. After another long day of work; expanding the fruit tree grove, listening to your subject’s worries and struggles, checking over storage supplies, and any tasks brought to your attention, you were desperate for a good rest. Your chamber in the stone palace of Water Curtain Cave was exactly the place to do that, with your favorite night robes and comfiest blanket waiting for you to snuggle into for the night.

You shut the door behind you, the chattering of your subjects still awake at this time muffled by the thick wood and stone walls. No doubt the guards were transitioning, fellow monkeys making sure they ate their fair share after the large dinner you all had together. That was something you always appreciated about your dear husband’s people, they had a deep sense of community and always chose to dine and share things with each other. It felt…loving.

You glance at your marriage bed, your half still a little messy from your rush to get up this morning, the other half still kept and clean. Cold. The same as it has been for over 500 years now…

Your own half had been the same since the war on the Celestials, but after your release you had made the space your own again. Your husband however…

You looked to the side doors of your balcony, an opening in the side of the mountain that let you see to the distant horizon. The sun was creeping closer to the far-off mountain range, turning the sky an orange and purple hue, the faintest twinkle of stars far above. 

He was somewhere out there, doing a good job, you're certain. Wukong wasn’t the type to give up, and he certainly wouldn’t abandon you and your people. He would come back, someday. You had to be certain of that, if nothing else. If he…if he didn’t come back then you…and your people…

You didn’t like to think about what would happen. It made your heart ache.

You step closer to the balcony doors, gripping the handles and slowly pushing them closed for your privacy. The view was beautiful, but you wanted solitude for tonight. 

Before the doors fully shut, you whispered into the wind like you did every night, hoping that somehow Wukong would hear and know you were thinking of him.

“Goodnight my love…stay safe and protected.” And as the doors finally slid shut, you didn’t notice the tiny golden cicada that slipped in through the crack above you. You turned away and began undressing, removing layer after layer of your hanfu to be washed another day.

“Well, this is certainly a beautiful sight to come home to. Tell me gorgeous, do you welcome everyone this way or am I special?” The voice made you freeze, your under-blouse half untied, leaving your chest exposed. You turned frantically, looking around your bedroom and seeing nothing out of place. Furniture still covered in scrolls and important documents, your vanity covered in hair ornaments and jewelry, your bed in its still half made state.

But that voice…

“W-Wukong?” You whispered, not believing your ears. It must be a trick of your tired mind, exhaustion and heart ache making you hallucinate the voice of your mate.

You were proven wrong as a cicada zipped past your nose and startled you, circling multiple times in the air before flashing with golden light. And there, in all his glory, your darling husband stood.

“Please continue. I was enjoying the show~” He purred. 

He looked tired. His eyes still had that same inner fire to them, but it was dim. His fur and clothing were clean but simple, no extravagant gold decals or jewelry like he used to enjoy wearing. You knew that monks chose to wear plain and simple clothes, but seeing your husband follow the practice, however unwilling, was something you never thought you’d see. The only gold to be seen on him was the fillet on his head, and the sight of the band sent a flash of anger through you. You hated that damn thing.

His frame looked lighter, constant travelling combined with meager meals from campsites and begging from strangers not suiting your husband’s needs. Where he used to have a healthy layer of fat over his chest, tummy, and thighs, the muscle looked more lean. Clearly still strong, but not getting as much nutrients as he needed. Despite your own exhaustion you were overcome with the need to rush downstairs and grab everything edible, to prepare a feast for your lover that he deserved, anything for him to look like his old healthy weight.

At your silence, his clawed hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking over the edge of your cheekbone. He stepped closer, and the feel of his warmth so close to you once again had your breath shuddering.

“Oh peaches…you look exhausted, my sweetheart. Have you been sleeping?” Wukong bumped his forehead to yours, golden eyes staring into yours. It was like a damn burst at his words, and you sniffled, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

“I could say the same-…about you.” You mumbled, eyes fluttering as he continued to stroke your cheek, his other hand wrapping tight around your waist and pulling you closer to him. Remembering your own hands could move, you wasted no time gripping his shoulders, digging your fingers into the fur exposed from his collar. Wukong sighed at your touch, his tail circling tight around one of your legs as he nuzzled his forehead against yours.

“I’ve missed you…” You whispered. He shuddered under your touch, and suddenly his lips were on yours in a desperate kiss that had you whimpering against him. His lips were still soft, the imprint of his sharp canines against your own lips a familiar and welcome feeling. You kissed back, letting your tongue peek out to lick along his lips. He opened for you with a heady groan from deep in his chest, letting his tongue meet yours.

You were pushed backwards towards the wall, his arm around your waist moving to your ass and gripping the flesh tight, pulling your hips towards his. You followed his movements, letting your leg hike up to curl around his hips, your already half undone clothing falling further apart. The threads tying your blouse together slipped away to reveal your chest, your breasts squished against the firm plane of Wukong’s own. The rough fabric of his robes felt like too much against your sensitive nipples, drawing whines from you as your hips bucked against his. You wanted his soft fur, his hot skin, against you.

You both broke away from the kiss, heaving gulps of air. Thick tendrils of drool snapped as you separated, your lips already growing swollen from the kiss. With shaking hands you pulled at his tiger skin sash, trying to undo all the knots holding his clothing together that were just too complicated for your lust filled mind to focus on. You had only managed to get one undone before his mouth was on yours again, his tongue forcing its way inside and turning your brain into jelly. You pushed your aching core against the hard length hidden by his clothes, the leg you were still standing on shaking with the effort to hold you up.

His own hands left your body to join yours at his clothing, roughly pulling at the fabric so you could get your hands tangled in all that glorious fur. You bit his bottom lip in encouragement, rewarded with a hiss and sharp buck of his hips against your own. Sash undone, his hands slammed into the wall you were pressed against as he broke the kiss again, staring at you with wide blown pupils. 

“I’ve missed you too, my beautiful mate…” He growled, voice rough and raspy with lust. He bent towards your neck, suckling at the soft skin he found. Your back arched as you moaned, pressing your heaving chest closer to his. With no knots in the way your hands were free to pull and tug at his clothing, his hands leaving their rooted position on the wall just long enough to slip his arms from the cloth. Finally, warm fur under your hands, strong muscle holding you close as you humped against your mate’s hardening cock.

Wukong growled in response to your touch, trailing kisses and bites from your abused neck to your collar bones, and further down still to your chest. One hand leaves the wall to grope at your left tit, his thumb and forefinger pinching the sensitive nipple. You squeak and jolt, and he grins in response.

“Still so sensitive~” He purrs. You blush but don’t ask him to stop. 

His grinning mouth envelopes your tit, sucking the soft skin and nipping it with his sharp teeth. You moan at the feeling, throwing your head back against the wall with a solid ‘thunk’ that you don’t even feel, too focused on the heat of Wukong’s mouth working wonders to your body. Wukong is clearly bothered by the sound though, as his hands suddenly move back to your ass and hike your standing leg up to join the other around his hips. You latch onto his head, keeping it pressed against your soft tits as he suckles away, and the support of the wall leaves your back.

Distantly you’re aware that your husband is walking across the bedroom, but you focus instead on pressing kisses to the crown of his head.

“F-feels so good my love, fuck-” You moan, his mouth trailing kisses across the expanse of your chest to play with your other nipple. Your pussy is throbbing where it’s pressed against Wukong, fluid leaking into the cloth still worn over your legs. A sudden feeling of weightlessness hits you as Wukong’s arms drop you, and the soft feel of your bed hits your back, the plush mattress making you bounce as you land. You squeal in surprise before looking up at him, to see your king staring down at you with a fiery hunger in his eyes. He stands tall and imposing, and you ache to be filled.

His gaze doesn’t leave you as his claws grip the waistband of his pants, pulling the last few ties keeping it in place and letting it drop to the floor.

Your breath leaves in a rush, your mouth suddenly drooling at the feast of a demon standing before you. His chest, littered with scars, heaves with his breath, his tail lashes to and fro behind him, the muscle of his arms and thighs on full display for you. Between his legs his engorged cock leaks prefluid, a prominent vein on the underside throbbing in time with his heartbeat. You want it in you, in whatever way you can get. Mouth, cunt, ass, it doesn’t matter you just want to worship the body in front of you to make up for the many centuries of separation.

Without hesitation you lean forward on the bed, folding your legs under you so you’re on your knees. Your hands grip the thick muscle of Wukong’s thighs, fur tickling your palms, as you bring your face closer to his throbbing dick. 

“Love-” He starts but doesn’t finish, your cute tongue peeking out to lick a solid stripe up his length. He chokes on his words, hands immediately tangling in your hair. He doesn’t push you away or pull you closer, he simply holds you as you worship him. You press your lips against the fat vein you spotted, delighted by the way Wukong’s abdomen jumps in response. More fluid leaks from his pink tip, drooling a steady stream onto your cheek, and you lap it up eagerly, the salty taste making you shudder. Fuck, you missed that flavor.

Desperate for more you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, giggling in your throat at the cute jerk his hips gave at the feel of your warm, wet mouth. You fluttered your lashes and looked up at him, his claws still tangled in your hair and his cock stretching your lips, a trail of drool and precum leaking from the corner of your mouth. He moaned above you, golden eyes bright and pupils blown wide. Satisfied, you swirl your tongue around the sensitive head, suckling sweetly before pulling your lips off with a lewd ‘pop’.

“Shit-such a good girl for me, my beautiful mate…” He purrs as you move your head lower. You bite your bottom lip, eyeing the thick, heavy ballsack hanging between your mate’s thighs. You can catch the faintest whiff of his natural musk, and you decide you want more. Before you can second guess yourself or be embarrassed by what you’re about to do, you shove your nose right into the fat balls hanging in front of you. Wukong jerks in surprise, but your fingers grip the fur of his thighs tighter, preventing him from moving away.

You nuzzle against the heavy globes, warm skin tickling the bridge of your nose and cheeks. You can feel the weight of his cock above you, resting against the crown of your head where his claws still massage your skull. The balls resting on your face feel so full…it’s clear your mate has been pent up on the length of his journey. Tonight you aim to drain him completely, and the thought sends a shiver down your spine that has your pussy clenching hard on nothing as a moan leaves your throat.

You take a deep breath in through your nose, mind flooded by the musky smell of your mate in its strongest form. It’s enough to make you feel drunk, your mouth opening to suck on a single ball, rolling the sensitive flesh around with your tongue. You suckle it like it’s candy, the heady taste more intoxicating than anything you’ve had before.

“P-peaches, fuck-! F-filthy girl, you’re bold tonight, h-huh?” Wukong gives a breathy chuckle above you as you move onto his other ball, suckling it with the same care as the first one. 

“You’re fucking filthy when d-desperate aren’t you? F-fuuuck~...” You moan in response, wiggling your hips happily at his words. You are, you’re so desperate, over 500 years since you’ve been able to play around like this with your chosen mate, you don’t care if it's unbecoming. You want your husband and you’ll damn well enjoy yourself, even if others would call you a whore for it. 

With that in mind you take one hand off your mate’s thigh, bringing it low between your own thighs to press against the ache you feel. The thin material of your undergarment is soaked through, and the pressure of your fingers has you gasping desperately around the soft skin still in your mouth. Wukong notices where your hand has gone, groaning in need as he bites his bottom lip.

“Sweet girl, lay back-...lay back and let me see you-” Now his hands push at your head, gently encouraging you to release him from your mouth. You whine, not wanting to stop but also desperate for some attention yourself. Wukong chuckles above you, his grin soft at your needy behavior.

“I know love, I know. We have plenty of time though, the next three days in fact.” Suddenly eager for more than just his touch, you lay back against the pillows of your bed. Wukong's claws tail down your chest and tummy to your hips, gripping the waistband of your under clothes and slipping them off. 

“Three days!? We actually have three days with you at home!?” At his nod, you squeal, kicking your feet before grabbing him by his shoulders and dragging him on top of you with a kiss. He follows your pull willingly, his knees settling down between your thighs and his hands gripping the soft flesh of your waist. His tail loops around one of your thighs as he settles between them, moaning into your kiss. He suckles your tongue before pulling away, sitting on his knees and watching his hands caress your skin. Every mark, every curve, his gaze takes it all in with reverence and it’s now you suddenly feel shy. Your body has changed a bit over the centuries, stress and challenges you faced with and without your husband leaving their mark. You cover your face with your hands even as he pushes your thighs further apart to reveal your dripping opening.

“Oh, darling…” He growls, claws moving closer. You jump at the feel of his calloused skin on your inner thigh, and blush even further. Your skin is soaked, the slick drooling from your pussy reaching mid-thigh and coating your husband’s hands as they massage over you. 

“P-please don’t stare-” You whimper, wiggling to close your thighs once again as embarrassment takes over. Wukong’s claws dig into the meat of your thighs, keeping them open despite your trembling muscles pushing against him.

“And why not? A sight like this should be enjoyed and savored…Such a pretty pussy making a mess for me? I’m honored.” You feel your cunt flutter at his words, and you squeak in response. A feather light touch of his fingers against your lips has your hips bucking off the mattress, seeking more pressure to grind against. Wukong chuckles darkly at the movement and you peek through your fingers just in time to see his mischievous grin before he leans down and buries it into your slick folds.

You scream, hands leaving your face to tangle into the sheet of your bed, you back arching as Wukong’s arms lock around your waist, preventing your hips from leaving the hot, wet torture that is his mouth. His tongue bullies its way past the ring of muscle for your entrance and presses up, immediately looking for the sensitive spot in your gummy walls that makes you cry for him. His teeth feel sharp where they sit against your sensitive skin, and despite knowing he would never hurt you more than you ask, the perceived danger of such sharp canines against you has your adrenaline racing. 

He pulls his tongue out of your cunt with a slurp, and presses a sloppy, wet kiss against your swollen clit. 

“Fuck! Wukong!” You sit straight up, hands gripping and pulling at the fur on top of his head. He gives a pleased growl at the motion, encouraging you to pull harder. With you watching, he buries his nose against your folds, and takes a deep inhale of your scent.

Oh. 

Liquid heat pools in your belly at the action, and you tug desperately at his fur again.

“Please love, please just-” His tongue traces a pattern through your folds again, and you feel a sudden sting as he playfully nips your engorged clit. “500 years Wukong-! Please, don’t tease me anymore-!”

He laughs low in his belly at your words, but does lift himself up to slot his hips against yours. You bite your lip at the feel of his cock pressing against you, hot and heavy as it leaks fluid over your mound, mixing with your own slick.

“Alright, alright peaches…Not so shy now-” You buck your hips up, delighted by the brief friction of grinding against him. “Dammit, okay! Settle down, I don’t want to hurt you sweet one.” He shushes you, waiting for you to lay your hips back onto the mattress. You groan in frustration, watching with rapt attention as his hand grabs the length of his cock, rubbing the pink tip through your folds and gathering more slick. You hold your breath, waiting in anticipation for him to move.

His cock presses against your opening, the tight muscle immediately giving way as your mate pushes himself into you. You both gasp at the feeling, his cock twitching in response and you can feel it. You pull desperately at his shoulders and he follows, leaning on his hands above you as you pull him into a desperate kiss. His hips push forward achingly slow, spreading your soft walls at an agonizing pace. You need him now, dammit. Need him to bully his way inside you and break you on his cock like a bitch in heat.

You wrap your legs around his hips, and with one sharp tug and a jerk up of your own, he sinks fully into you. Wukong shudders and groans deep in his chest, his arms trembling under his weight as he sags against you, lips never leaving yours. You keen loudly at the feeling of being so full so fast, your walls squeezing tight around him. You pull away from the kiss, panting desperately as you fall back into the pillows surrounding you.

“...S-Sweet one, so tight-” He hisses, burying his face in your neck. You need him to move.

“Wu-Wukong…fucking move…” You whimper, your body shaking with overstimulation. Your king hisses between grit teeth, shifting into a better position on his knees. Your cunt refuses to give at first, clamped down tight around him before he pulls harder, and a lewd ‘squelch’ echoes between you both. It’s followed by another, and another, as Wukong builds a slow rhythm, grinding his hips in shallow circles against you. You cup his jaw and make him look up at you, breathing each other’s air before he kisses you again. His tongue still tastes like you, and you moan as the pressure in your belly increases.

His thrusts pick up speed as you kiss, his breath coming out in hot puffs from his nose against your cheek. You aren’t doing much better, your lungs feel entirely too empty as your body burns, heat making your toes curl and your legs lock tight around his hips. It’s been so long for the both of you, you aren’t surprised you didn’t last very long, but you truly don’t care. Wukong is in your arms again, he’s kissing you again, your bed smells like him again.

His thumb makes its way to your mound, finding your clit and rubbing harsh, sloppy circles around it that make you cry into your shared kiss. He nips your lips in response, his tail thrashing where it curls high in the air above you both. You feel your peak rising, and pull away just enough to look into his eyes when you cum.

“I-I love you…” Your shaking voice manages to get out before the pressure inside you snaps. You bury your face into his warm neck, biting down, uncaring of the fur getting in your mouth. Wukong moans, his hips stuttering their rhythm as you clamp down tight, your pussy milking him for everything he has. He follows you over the peak, pressing his lips to your ear to whisper back.

“I love y-you-...too-” He shudders, and you feel the liquid heat of his release inside you, flooding your cunt. Your spasming walls take it greedily, until it's too much, and thick globs of white cum leak back out your spasming pussy, mixing with the mess of fluid already painted across your thighs. You both shudder and shake, the glow of orgasm leaving you gradually as you lay in each other’s arms. Wukong practically collapses on the bed next to you, wrapping his arms tight around your back to drag you with him. You adjust yourself, keeping your legs tight around him as he flips onto his back and lays you along his chest. 

The rise and fall of his breathing soothes you, growing slower and deeper as you both come down from your high. You move, lifting yourself up enough to press a kiss to his pectoral, right above his stone heart. When you look up, he’s staring at you, a very soft smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks…upset.

Doubt wiggles its way into your mind, wondering if he’s upset by what just happened.

“Everything okay?” You whisper. He startles, the unease in his gaze clearing up as he watches you. One of his clawed hands comes up to brush through your hair, playing with the strands. After a moment, he speaks.

“There was…a shapeshifter, today. Trying to steal Master’s flesh.” You lean into his hand, the feeling of his fingers playing with your hair, a feeling you have missed over the years. You keep your eyes locked with his to show you’re still listening.

“They wore your face.” Wukong mumbles. You freeze, eyes widening in shock. “They wore your face, and they used some…some kind of magic to see what I-...see what we-” He growls, glaring off the side of your bedroom at some unseen enemy. “They brought up how we don’t have little ones of our own yet. Still.”

You aren’t sure what to say, so you grab his hand that's frozen in your hair, bringing his palm low enough for you to press a kiss against his pulse point. He smiles at you, the familiar warmth you adore coming back to his eyes.

“It upset me quite a bit, everyone could tell. Master…took pity on me I suppose, said I could leave them for a few days to see you.” His thumb strokes over your cheek, trailing down to your jaw and curving around the length of your neck, fingers back in the thick of your hair once more.

“Well, I suppose I’m grateful for that, at least.” You begin, a touch of bitterness to your tone. “Not that I think it’s right I haven't been able to see, touch, or properly talk to my husband in seven years-!” His brow furrows, a sad expression making its way onto his handsome face. You take a deep breath, shoving those feelings aside. 

It’s just for a few more years.

You can handle a few more years of letters and talks through magic portals and dreams as you wait for Wukong to come back to you. And if you’re lucky, maybe more nights where he’s able to actually visit you like this. 

You shift a little, sucking in a sharp breath at the feel of his softening cock still inside you, but now close enough to his face you can press a kiss to his furry chin. He jerks at the feeling of you moving as well, but neither of you makes to actually get up and clean yourselves off. If your gut feeling is correct, which it usually is, your mate will be rested and ready to go again in a few minutes, and for the rest of the night.

“I’m sorry my love, I’m just…frustrated by the distance between us. I miss having you with me every day.” Wukong sighs underneath you, pressing a kiss of his own to the crown of your head.

“I know. Believe me, peaches, I know.” He sighs, and you rise and fall with his chest as he does so. “It’ll be over soon. We’re immortal. Time is…it’ll pass before we even realize it.” You know his words are true, and you can’t help but smile up at him when you next speak.

“And then we could…finally try for that family?” You offer. His eyes widen, but a grin follows soon after.

“I’d love nothing more.” He seals his promise with a kiss.

[harrysgal]

SOMETHING DIFFERENT

harry styles x yn stylist — social media AU

I’ve been stuck with I dig your cinema for a while now, so I wanted to do something different to distract myself and somehow came up with this. Idk I just went along with this idea I had in mind and stopped when I reached the 30 pictures. Of course that means I didn’t get to finish it yet, but here it is anyway. Sorry if it sucks.

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liked by someone, bestie and 87k others 

magazine EXCLUSIVE: Jessie Moss and Harry Styles have split after nearly five months of dating. 

“Jessie and Harry have spent a lovely time together, but ultimately they just weren’t the right fit for one another,” says a rep for the actress.

Read the full statement at the link in our bio.

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harryone ???????? harrytwo i’m sorry but WHAT THE FUCK??  harrythree no way 😲   harryfour i’m so confused right now harryfive wasn’t he giving an interview and talking about her like a week ago?!  jessiefanone well this sucks :( he really seemed to like her

harrysix this is ridiculous cmon. i fully refuse to believe it’s real harryseven first time he’s so public about a relationship and they just break up like this? OUT OF NOWHERE?

↳ harryeight that’s what i’ve been saying! the man was WHIPPED  ↳ harrynine this wasn’t mutual, i’ll tell you that much…. ↳ harryten also the fact that her fans are dead silent right now is soooo weird  ↳ harryeleven always knew she was too nice and cute to be true 

jandh4ever NO NO NO NO NO STOP  jandh4ever WHY WOULD THEY BREAK UP  jandh4ever THERE’S NO WAY THIS IS TRUE  jandh4ever NO WAY jandh4ever I DONT BELIEVE IT  jessiefantwo Guys, just read the article. Someone from Jessie’s team released the statement, so it’s real. They broke up, and that’s it. Let’s give them some privacy, it’s not our business. 

↳ harrytwelve i bet you’re all happy right now, arent you? you guys never supported harry as her bf even tho he was clearly really into her ↳ harrythirteen so true. what a despicable fandom 

harryfourteen oh boy :( hope they are both doing okay! 

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liked by harryone and 5,431 others 

harryupdates Harry in London today! 

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harryone baby was mad :( harrytwo no bc a fan said they didnt approach him bc they felt like he wasnt in the mood and i totally get them now harrythree he was supposed to be at the wedding, too :(  harryfour did you guys see that video on tiktok of someone saying they overheard him on the phone and apparently he was talking about jessie??

↳ harryfive yes but im not sure I believe them. I mean anyone can say anything just to get attention… 

harrysix this whole thing makes me so sad for him like he really doesnt seem ok :( harryseven the way he just turned around as soon as he saw the pap lol im laughing sorry

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liked by jessiefan1, jessieupdates and 35,891 others

magazine EXCLUSIVE: Jessie Moss spotted kissing longtime friend just one week after split from Harry Styles. 

The Golden Globe-nominated actress was spotted in her hometown attending her childhood best friend’s wedding—where she was also seen sharing a passionate moment with longtime friend Nathan Griffiths.

“It was meant to be,” a guest at the wedding shared. “We all knew. We were just waiting for Nathan to make a move.”

Another insider added, “They are really happy together. The timing is complicated, but they’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.”

The photos surfaced just days after Moss’ team released a statement confirming the split. “Jessie and Harry have spent a wonderful time together, but ultimately, they just weren’t the right fit for one another,” a representative for the actress told MAGAZINE.

Read the full article at the link in our bio.

read all 3,681 comments 

harryone damn  harrytwo oh my  harrythree well… I guess now we know what happened 🧍🏻‍♀️ harryfour no bc for her team to release the statement so fast before the wedding means she KNEW what was about to happen harryfive I can’t believe she would do this to him???? harrysix has anyone checked on myparents on twitter? girl must be losing it lol harryseven I’m so sad and disappointed I don’t even know what to say 😞  harryeight i had a feeling the break up was suss but damn… i didnt know i would end up hating that girl jessiefanone i hope my baby doesn’t get canceled :( nathan and her have been friends for so long… it’s not a surprise they’ve always been in love with each other 

↳ harryfive if she’s always been in love with him then why did she even start dating someone else??? ↳ jessiefanone ＠harryfive i mean, have you ever been in love with a friend? it’s not that easy… i’m sure she didn’t know this would end up happening… 

jessiefan2 can harry’s fans please leave jessie alone? she’s never said one bad word about him and it’s not like she chose to hurt him on purpose 

↳ harrysix really??? have you read the article??? bc it surely seems everyone but harry knew about this ↳ harrynine she didn’t choose to hurt him but she definitely made sure to make herself available to kiss someone else 

harryten ngl i dont blame harry for never speaking about his relationships… look how messy this turned out to be  harryeleven at the end of the day, all I hope is that harry gets to live his happiest single era now… man def deserves it :( jessiefanthree I KNEW IT I KNEW IT OMG THIS IS THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY ENTIRE LIFE harrytwelve god i hate her fandom so fucking much

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👤 nathangriffiths

liked by nathangriffiths, herbff, jessiefan1 and 301,957

jessiemoss sometimes unexpected things happen in the most unexpected ways 💖

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liked by jefezoff, harry_lambert, gemmastyles and 301,765 others

harrystyles I’m so happy to announce that ‘Love On Tour 2022’ is finally coming to the UK, Europe and South America.

Public on sale begins on Friday, January 28th. Check your venue website for further information about your show.

I’m so excited to see you. Thank you, I love you. H

view all 16,765 comments  harryzero hii omg there you are :’) we missed youuuuu harryone YESSSS LET’S DO THISSSSS harrytwo 💘💘💘 can’t wait to see you!!!  harrythree there’s no better way to get over someone than to go on tour all over the world  harryfour baby really said who cares about my ex i have my fans im gonna visit all of them 🥲 harryfive all im saying is: singlerry in south america harrysix YESSS!!!!! take all my money i dont care it’s all yours i just want to see youuu harryseven hope you’re doing okay <3 we love you!

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harryone, harrytwo and 51 others

singlerry As a proud supporter of Harry’s single era, I don’t only bring this blind to your attention, but I also say that I hope it really is about him and says nothing but the true. GO FOR IT BABE!

view all 10 comments harryone not deuxmoi making him sound like a whore 😩 harrytwo honestly i hope it’s true, too. hope he’s kissing everyone and having the greatest time harrythree i volunteer in case he runs out of options harryfour okay i don’t actually believe deuxmoi, sorry lol but also the idea of harry just going out and being single like a normal human being (man) sounds really funny to me idk harryfive you guys should check twitter right now…….. lol

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liked by harryone, harrytwo and 2,376 others

harryupdates Harry leaving a club in London last night. 

view all 139 comments

harryzero MY BABYYYY  harryone it’s been two months guys how did we even survive all this time without him :(  harrytwo man is looking gooooooooooddddd harrythree BOY LOOKS HAPPYYYYYY harrythree i bet he kissed the girl!!!!! 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 harryfour SINGLERRY IS SO HOT AND I’M SO HERE FOR IT harryfive hope he’s having the time of his life <3

↳ harrysix sounds like he is… he was seen flirting with multiple girls all night hahaha  ↳ harryfour that’s what i’ve been saying: he’s in his single era and i’m here for it lol

harryseven looking good, single, and healthy 🔥 harryeight nathan who??? harrynine lmao jessie moss you will be regretting this loss for the rest of your life !!

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liked by harryone, harrytwo and 75 others

singlerry okay so no signs of harry out partying tonight BUT (!!!) it’s almost 3am in london and he JUST followed this girl on ig

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harryone shut up 😯 are you serious? harrytwo pls !!! to be in harry’s mind at 3am harrythree some people are just so lucky harrythree some people are never me harrythree im never some people harryfour why do i feel like i’ve seen her before? 🤔

↳ harryfive because i’m pretty sure she’s the stylist that works with lambert ↳ harrysix she is, yessss! she was in LA when lambert styled jessie for those red carpets ↳ harryfour so she’s the one who styled jessie when lambert styled harry? ↳ harrysix yes! haha  ↳ harryseven what???

harryeight okay what’s the big deal? sorry i really dont get it  harrynine guys if she’s a stylist and works with lambert maybe it’s work related

↳ harryten i’m sorry but have you seen her profile?? that man did NOT follow her at 3 in the morning bc of work lmaoooo

harryeleven well idk about you but i just followed her, too 🥵 harrytwelve i need more info pls i mean what’s the gossip here? he just followed, right? so…?

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liked by harrystyles, bestie, harry_lambert and 37,019 others

yourinstagram so sorry I haven’t checked my phone lately xxx

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bestie except to text me x

↳ harry_lambert and to text me x ↳ yourinstagram indeed x ↳ yourinstagram so if you need me contact my friends, please xxx

someone stunning as usual  sometwo girl that body 😭 share the secret i beg you harryone my jaw lays on the floor harrytwo I will not say it, I will not say it, I will not say it…  harrythree we see you harryyyyy harryfour harryyyyy!!! that was quick lolll  harryfive omg guys stop being embarrassing he’s not 12 give him at least some privacy??

↳ harrysix this is instagram… im pretty sure he knows he’s not going to be private here 🤷‍♀️ ↳ harryfive still!!! stop calling him out!!!  ↳ harryseven yeah… especially bc it could be just work related and here you are making things awkward… so please stop

harryeight girl at least follow him back 😭 poor guy jessiefanone why am I still following you? 🤮 jessiefantwo nathan didn’t like this post!!!!

↳ jessiefanthree no he didn’t!!!! ↳ jessiefanfour that’s the jessie effect!  ↳ jessiefanfive can you imagine knowing guys only care about you when the real ones aren’t available? so sad  ↳ jessiefansix also guys, our theories about what happened make so much sense it’s crazy 

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liked by harry_lambert, bestie, harrystyles and 27,651 others

yourinstagram this week was one of THOSE weeks. meaning I’ve been exhausted all day every day whilst feeling the luckiest on earth with the greatest job that I love more than anything in the world. 

thanks again ＠harry_lambert for bringing me in to your journey. I love you just as much as I love all my mini slutty skirts xxx

view all 56 comments  harry_lambert as much as the mini slutty skirts? 😯  harry_lambert damn that’s real babe, thank you harry_lambert also this is OUR journey x  harry_lambert and also I love you x bestie you two teaming up was the greatest thing that could’ve ever happened to me. I love you both ＠harry_lambert ＠yourinstagram  someone mother of the internet  sometwo the balance between posting work mode pics but still bringing the mini skirts up  cousin do you ever get a family discount or something?

↳ yourinstagram haha come over next week i might have something for you

harryone is he taking you on tour with harry, too? 👀 harrytwo not me checking if he liked her post (of course he did!!) and if she finally followed him back (no she didn’t!!) 

↳ harrythree girl ＠yourinstagram plssssss just follow him ↳ harrythree boy must be just waiting for the day he gets an interaction

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unfortunately only 30 pictures allowed...

[vainvenus]

mind games. | ln4 | pt.3

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The race debrief and the after party are both some of your favorite parts after a good race but it seems like Lando your mind is ruining it for you.

Includings: Dark!Lando Norris, gaslighting to the max, distorted reality, anxiety/stress, power dynamics, tension, hinting towards a panic attack near the end, paranoia ( what's new lol )

An: I think this is my fave chapter I've written so far @slutforvoldy

The debrief room, like always was very lively. Multiple reporters and journalists trying to get a question or two in for the podium winners. You were sat between Max and Lando, tapping your nails against your microphone as you tried to pay attention to any questions that were specifically towards you or for all of you.

"[Y/n] how do you feel about that race? Going from P13 to P2 must have been exhilarating." One of the journalists commented and you nodded your head with a warm smile, a genuine one that you hadn't felt in a while.

"Yeah, yeah, it feels amazing. I was really worried I wasn't gonna be able to pick it up but thanks to my amazing strategist and engineers, I'm sitting here with these guys." You giggled. "Which is kind of a punishment."

"Hey!" Max laughed, playfully shoving your shoulder and Lando nudged you with his shoulder as the three of you laughed together.

And for once, you felt at ease—like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, the tight knot in your chest finally unraveling. The heavy rock that had sat in your stomach for so long was gone, leaving behind a lightness you almost didn’t recognize.

Maybe you were just stressed lately and this win and debrief was just what you needed.

But just as you began to settle into that rare sense of peace, a singular question circled in your mind like a shark in the water, lurking beneath the surface—waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"Lando, why did you back off on Lap twenty-three instead of defending?"

He had stopped laughing, he now looked confused as he made eye contact with the interviewer who asked the question. "What?"

"You barely put up a fight. She came up the inside and you.." He had gestured. "Just let her through?"

Lando tilted his head. "Did I?"

You froze, your grip tightening around your microphone.

A few murmurs passed through the room, giving each other glances of confusion. Everyone in that room had seen the race and even if they didn't there was a replay of the moment as one of the journalists had it on their phone already to show.

The three of you leaned forward to watch the footage and sure enough, there it was. Your car driving down the inside, Lando's car holding steady before easing back just enough to let you slip by.

It was quiet for a bit before Max spoke up to try and ease the slight tension in the room. "Yeah, mate what was up with that."

He shrugged. "That's not how I remember it."

The air felt tight again. Like there wasn't enough for you to inhale and exhale. You turned to him, searching his face, but there was nothing. No flicker of uncertainty. No nervous twitch. Just an easy, unreadable calm.

"Lando." The interviewer sighed, rubbing his temples. "We're literally rewatching it right now."

Lando leaned forward, studying the footage like he was seeing it for the first time and hadn't done it about an hour ago. He hummed. "I don't know, it looks like I covered the inside pretty well."

The room fell silent again, hushed whispered and mumbles spreading throughout before your voice cut through it with clear denial. "That's not what happened."

He turned his gaze to you, slow, careful. His eyes bored into yours and he tilted his head, similar to how he had done earlier like he was testing you. "Are you sure?"

Something cold curled in your blood.

"Lando." You said his name slowly, like coaxing a confession from a liar who wasn't ready to break. "We were in that fight. I know you didn't defend, it's so clear."

He held your stare for a second too long before his lips curled into a smirk.

He smirked.

To anyone else it was playful but you knew it was deliberate, calculated even because it was the exact same one you recalled seeing in your rearview mirrors when you passed him.

"Funny how memories work, huh?" He chuckled, raising his brows. "One of us must be misremembering, shame it's you."

His words landed like a gut punch—sharp and undeniable. How he chuckled right after made it settle in like a twist of a knife, slow and deliberate.

Murmurs of amusement rippled through the room. Someone even laughed and the interviewer that brought it up mumbled something about watching it incorrectly then. His PR manager let out a sigh of relief from the side.

You swallowed hard.

They didn't see it. They didn't see him. They didn't see how he was so clearly lying through his teeth.

But now he wasn't only just lying to you. He was lying to Max. To the media. To anyone who would end up hearing this interview.

And worst of all.

He was doing it with that fucking smirk.

★

The after party was everything that it always was. Loud from all the yelling and singing, glittering, a swirling mess of neon lights and dancing bodies brushing against each other or pressed too close. Music throbbed through the air, bass heavy enough to shake beneath everyone who was dancing.

You should have been enjoying yourself. You had an amazing race, going from P13 to P2, points for the team and a 1-2 podium you should have been walking around like you owned the place.

But instead you were leaning against the wall with your drink cold in your hand, condensation slipping between your fingers as you tried to focus on anything else besides that feeling that you hadn't been able to shake off since the race debrief.

You shifted your weight, exhaling softly. You needed to stay calm and you needed to at least try and look like you were enjoying yourself. You needed to ignore the thoughts creeping in, the ones whispering that something was wrong, that nothing was making sense.

A hand wrapped around your wrist, jolting you from your overbearing thoughts.

"Alright enough brooding." Max urged, tugging you towards the dance floor. "You look like you're trying to solve world hunger over here."

You opened your mouth to protest but before you could Max had waved his hand at you dismissively, a clear sign that he didn't want to hear any excuse you were about to come up with. "You need to loosen up."

"I'm fine." You nearly spat for what felt like the millionth time today.

Max rolled his eyes. "No you're not. You're standing there like you just saw a ghost or something. We just won, remember? Try acting like it."

You wanted to. You really did.

The Redbull driver pulled you onto the dance floor before you could argue any further, laughter and music surrounding you almost instantly. The bass pounding beneath your feet, vibrations travelling up your spine. Max was grinning, smiling and spinning you around a few times as you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

Eventually you let yourself move with the rhythm despite your nerves working against you. You let the energy of the room take over your nerves.

Max pointed to your almost empty drink, offering to get another order of what you had and gin and tonic for himself. You nodded, giving him a thumbs up before you watched as he moved through the crowd and made a B-line to the bar.

You continued to sway along to the music, sipping on what was left in your cup. For a few fleeting moments you almost believed that you could down out the unease curling in your gut

And then you felt a hand on your waist.

Smelt a scent that was close to familiar but not quite.

And heard a voice too close to your ear.

"Couldn't let you dance alone now could I?"

You stiffened before you even turned.

His grip was light, gentle even but the way he pressed against her and leaned a little too close for comfort made her stomach turn.

"Breathe." He murmured, his voice barely audible over the music and the sound of your own heart beating against your chest. His fingers tapped against your waist. "Though I'm not sure you really can in this dress."

"Yeah..not really." You mumbled, a nervous giggle leaving your lips. You were fine. You were okay. Until your gaze dropped down to his hands which were comfortably situated on your hips. But then you saw it.

Your ring.

The one you swore up and down you lost.

It was just there on his ring finger like it belonged there. Like it was his.

Your stomach had dropped.

Lando must have noticed the small shift in your body language because he leaned a little bit closer, his fingers brushing against your waist in slow, comforting circles. "Something wrong?" He questioned, tilting his head slightly.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. The words tangled somewhere between your lungs and throat, suffocating under the weight of realization.

The music swelled around you two, bass-heavy and relentless, as if mocking your silence. Laughter rang from the bar. Glasses clinked. The world kept spinning, oblivious to the way yours had just tilted off its axis. No one noticed the way your body had gone rigid in Lando’s grasp. No one saw the way your fingers twitched, hovering between fight and flight.

But Lando noticed.

His grip remained steady, fingers pressing against your waist in a way that felt both grounding and suffocating at once. Not tight enough to trap you, but firm enough to remind you he was there.

The ring glinted again under the strobe lights, a flicker of silver that felt like a slap to the face. The same ring you had lost. No, the same ring that had gone missing. It hadn’t been misplaced. It wasn't hiding somewhere in your home or purse. You had searched for it, turned your place upside down, convinced it was your own mistake.

But it wasn’t.

Lando shifted slightly, just enough for his breath to ghost against the shell of your ear. He was waiting for you to react, waiting to see how you would play this. The smirk on his lips wasn’t just amusement—it was knowledge. Confirmation.

You swallowed, trying to force your lungs to work properly, but it was useless. The walls of the club felt like they were pressing in, the air too thick, the lights too bright. Your heart wasn’t beating right—it was stumbling over itself, struggling to keep up with the panic clawing its way up your throat.

Lando’s hold on you didn’t falter.

The smirk didn’t waver.

And for the first time all night, you couldn’t breathe.

[allertononfilm]

dolce vita - rafe cameron

chapter 1

summary: You traveled to Italy to get away for the summer, escape the heartbreak you’d been dwelling in back home. Only to find yourself falling into something way more complex with the last person you expected.

content warnings: original afab!reader, soft!rafe, use of petnames (princess, baby), 18+ MDNI - actual smut included after this chapter, suggestive af, smoking, mentions of being under the influence/consumption of alcohol & marijuana.

(DISCLAMER: I have not actually traveled to where I am writing about, so this is all google not personal experience lol)

length: 2.6k words

You really had no idea what you were doing in Italy. Your summer plans had been completely different just a handful of months ago. But you tried making the best out of being there, trying not to focus on the fact that you'd spend your trip surrounded by a group of trust fund kids that you likely wouldn't have met otherwise.

Josie meant well. That was how you became friends to begin with. Meeting when she took a seat beside you in your first sociology lecture of the school year, asking if you'd done the required reading she had no clue about until walking into the auditorium. You graciously gave her your notes, and she'd stuck by you ever since, despite not having much more in common.

The girl wasn't who you typically relied on in these unprecedented situations, seeming to be under the impression that the two of you were much closer than you personally considered. But you had to appreciate the fact that she liked you enough to let you tag along on the annual holiday she took to her cousin's vacation house on the Amalfi Coast.

In another reality, you'd be planning your wedding to your long-term boyfriend right now. You'd been together since you’d met at freshman orientation, and marriage was the logical next step. Why would you think any differently?

You were sure he was gonna propose after your final exams for the year. But instead, he showed up to your apartment and ended it. No warning. No explanation. He walked out that day, and you hadn't heard from him since.

And the icing on the cake was that within weeks, he was already on Instagram flaunting his new girlfriend. Who he also, coincidentally, had grown up alongside. So at the last minute, after a lot of urging from your privileged friend, you decided you'd join her in Southern Italy and fully immerse yourself in the easygoing European lifestyle as some sort of distraction.

You traded your normally dark colour palette for pastels and florals to complement the vibrant environment. Drinking vintage wines and Limoncello you probably wouldn't have touched back home. Skin barely sun-kissed from spending your afternoons on beaches that could be straight out of a postcard.

You'd been staying with the group of women for a few weeks already, enjoying the accommodations prior to being joined by Josie's cousin and his friends. Surrounded by affluence and high luxury like you'd never experienced. And although your roommates were doing everything they could to make you feel comfortable, you still felt absolutely out of place.

An example of this were nights like these when she'd take advantage of the large space and throw house parties into the early morning. They'd never really been your thing in general, finding yourself overstimulated by the bustling atmosphere even as an adult. 

You didn't spend longer than an hour trapped among the chaos, making whatever appearances you had to and promptly disappearing back to the room you'd been staying in. Any hope of getting buzzed being cancelled out by the unrelenting humidity wafting through the halls, the alcohol you'd been drinking sweating through you before you could even feel any of its effects.

The villa was unlike anything you'd seen, something that your other housemates weren't as affected by. The exterior, a Mediterranean style that was simple but still highlighted the aesthetic of the region. Hidden away amid the lush valleys but in no way modest. It wasn't technically a palace, but it was definitely the closest thing you'd seen to one.

The halls and chambers were grand, decorated with expensive furniture that accentuated its opulence even further. Oversized portraits of nameless aristocrats hung along the walls, unsure whether they were relatives of Josie's or local historical figures. Terra cotta tiles lining the floors to stay on theme with the rest of the house's theming.

Your favourite part of the whole place though, was the clear view you had of the Tyrrhenian Sea from the back of the property. The balcony that hung off your room giving you a front row seat to the vivid blue waters whenever you pleased. Getting baffled when you spotted an unknown individual already standing out there, leaning over the railing and surrounded by thick smoke.

"Can I help you?" You survey as you step out, the boy startled when you emerged.

For some reason, this person looked kinda familiar, although you couldn't figure out why. But you knew you didn't recognize him because he had a face you don't think anyone would be able to forget. You assumed it was another acquaintance of Josie's that snuck away to seek the same refuge as you, some rich kid that she knew because they traveled over at the same time.

As the paper burned into the dusk and the aroma hit your senses, you were met with an earthy smell that you'd been craving but didn't know where to find since getting to Europe. Your initial skepticism turning into curiosity, deciding to use the intrusion to your advantage to get yourself a puff.

"No, I'm fine," he declares simply. "Need anything, princess?" He offers back, an American accent poking through as he inhaled the weed like it was oxygen.

"This is where I've been staying the past few weeks, so..." You awkwardly trail off, your counterpart pursing his lips at the confession.

"Ah, you must be Josie's new pet," He comments. "Technically, you've been staying at my place the past few weeks." He informs you, blatantly sizing you up.

You weren't sure when exactly her cousin would be arriving, but you figured your first meeting would've been more formal than accidentally on your porch in the middle of a random party. You'd seen him a few times in photos she'd shown you from past vacations, none of them doing him justice.

His features were sharper than how you recollected, having shaved the shaggier hairstyle he'd sported when he was younger at some point. Bright blue eyes that were still striking in the night, full pink lips curled around the end of the filter. Standing there in a pair of dark-wash jeans and a white tank top that showed off his muscular arms.

All you knew about him, other than it being his family's place, was that they only reunited here during this annual trip. The two having become estranged over the years due to living on opposite coasts, not knowing anything further than Josie's father being siblings with his mother.

He snapped you from your daze when he offered out the spliff, accepting it with caution as if it would self-destruct in your hand. Perching alongside him on the metal railing, trying your best to keep your attention on the shore ahead of you instead of gawking at the boy just a few feet away.

"I'm Rafe, by the way." He introduces, prompting you to do the same. "You aren't part of the usual group that comes over," He identifies, a bit unnerved by his observation.

"Needed a change of scenery," You answer, not wanting to reveal too much.

A thick silence hung between you, neither of you really knowing how to navigate forward. He was much less sociable compared to his cousin, not that it was necessarily a bad thing. He had the whole broody, mysterious vibe going on, but not in a way that was intimidating. If anything, you were enticed.

"What do you think about Naples so far?" He investigates, cutting through the stillness.

"It's nice," You reply plainly.

"Just nice?" He echos. "You haven't experienced it properly then."

"What would you recommend?"

"I can take you out and show you around," he extends.

"You don't have to do that, Rafe. You just got here, and I'm not even your guest. I'm sure you're jet-lagged and have other shit to do and-" You ramble, being cut off by him.

"Don't worry. I'll be fine," he interjects, letting his gaze linger on you. "If anything, I'd feel awful knowing you came all the way here and didn't see anything significant. Clearly, you can't rely on Josie for that."

The commotion of the full house beneath you faded away as you fell into conversation. The discomfort that had initially driven you upstairs now having vanished. His cold demeanor thawing as you chatted like you'd known each other for years rather than mere minutes.

As he let the spliff hang between his fingers, you found yourself fixated on his features. Noticing how every time he brought the filter back to his mouth, they would wrap around the faint smudge of your lipstick. How his jaw tightened every time he sucked in. Even just being illuminated by the full moon, he looked like some kind of deity.

"Like what you see?" He flirts with a knowing smirk despite still looking out to the water. Your words getting caught in your throat, heat rushing to your cheeks prior to being able to get any response in. "How do you know Jos again?"

"College," you reply. "Why?"

"You just don't seem like the type she typically hangs out with. Preppy... Stuck up... Fake." He lists explicitly.

"Is that a good or a bad thing?" You quip. Rafe finally turned his head to look at you, the reflection of the stars glimmering in his eyes.

"I'm not sure yet. But so far, good."

You'd be naive to ignore the attraction you'd felt from the moment you saw him. Your senses were completely heightened by this point, chain-smoking through a forgotten number of joints. And even as the discussion faltered the more stoned you both got, the energy between you only intensified.

His hand came up and pushed your hair off your face, letting it rest on your cheek. His touch causing sparks to shoot through your body. Something that hadn't happened much towards the end of your relationship now that you think about it. But you didn't give a shit about that right now, only preoccupied with the gorgeous man in front of you.

You found yourself staring as he took another hit, the world blurring around you when you realized he was getting closer to you. Your breath literally being taken away as he exhaled directly into your mouth, replacing the air with heavy smoke. Like this boy you barely knew was a rejuvenating life source you never knew you needed.

It was out of your character—making the initial move, kissing someone first so confidently. Especially when that person was a close relative of the reason you came here to begin with. You felt like you were breaking an unspoken rule of girl code, not that it ultimately stopped you from acting on your instinct.

If anything, kissing him felt right. Similar to the head rush you'd felt when he shotgunned the vapor to you. His lips were soft and moved with skill, tasting like expensive whiskey and cigarettes and weed and every other vice. Maybe it was the mixture of substances tied with his sweet words, but the angst that had been plaguing you for months had disappeared.

A needy whine left you when he pulled away, worried you'd acted too hastily, only for him to take another drag of the plant and repeat his earlier gesture before his lips were back on yours. The two of you going back and forth until the joint burned out. Falling deeper under his trance as you became completely engrossed with each other.

He grabbed your ass, bringing your bodies closer as he delved his tongue into your mouth. His large frame overtaking you easily, hovering over you so you were propped back against the railing as you made out. You couldn't remember another man ever making you feel so off-balance. So good. So wanted.

You lost track of time with him, in all honesty you lost track of everything. Adrenaline surging through you like a fire that couldn't be extinguished, the two of you like moths drawn to a flame. What you could even call this connection with him? Tension? Chemistry? Lust?

But most of all, you didn't feel like there was an immense pressure hanging over you like it did with your ex. Always needing to maintain the facade that everything was perfect to match the rest of his carefully curated reputation. Fuck, you couldn't remember the last time you just let go—did what you wanted.

"You know," he establishes as the two of you caught your breath. "This is the room I normally sleep in."

"You're such a fucking liar," you retort.

"I am," he instantly concedes. "But I wouldn't mind sleeping in there tonight if you wanted company..."

"Wow," you emphasize playfully. "You get right to the point, huh?"

"What can I say? When I see something I like, I go after it. You can't really fault me on that," he indicates, teasing you over the fact you'd made the first move.

"Are you sure you aren't jet-lagged? Maybe getting a little delirious?" You suggest.

"Maybe," he shrugs. "Think I forgot my teddy bear at home though,"

"Oh my god," you burst out laughing, Rafe smiling warmly at you. "That was awful."

"It was, wasn't it?" He mirrors your amusement, examining you as if you were the most interesting person in the world.

"Are you always this forward?" You question.

"Wow," he mimics your earlier remark. "If I remember correctly, you kissed me, baby. Not my fault I can't get enough."

You'd never met anybody like him. Your ex was definitely the complete opposite—polite, charismatic, like the poster child for the quintessential all-American boy. And while Rafe was still well-off and very good-looking, you could tell there was much more to him than what met the eye. That he'd be a tough one to crack.

"I can't say I throw out awful lines like that a lot," he admits. "But it's not usually this difficult to get girls to agree to let me take them to bed. Especially in my own house."

"Now you're just being presumptuous," you couldn't help but chuckle, not entirely sure why you were turning down his advances. You knew it was the logical choice, especially judging you'd just met and would be living together for the foreseeable future. But your logic was quickly unraveling.

"It's fine. Wouldn't wanna tire you out too soon, anyway." He alludes smugly. "Can I at least get a kiss goodnight?"

"Was all that not enough for you, Cameron?" You taunt him.

"Definitely not," he mutters, letting his eyes rake over your figure.

"Goodnight, Rafe," you drawl.

You got up on your tiptoes, your hands settling on his chest as you pecked his cheek. Unable to get away too fast as he grasped your waist and held you in place, glancing down at you with a fiery smolder. His lips hovering over yours, just the proximity driving you crazy even though you were the one that held leverage.

"Is that really the best you can do?" He protests, giggling at his defiance.

"Goodnight, Rafe," you reiterate, giving in and kissing him gingerly.

You watched as he slipped through the glass door and retreated back through your room. Turning over his shoulder, shooting you a wink and puckering his lips as he made his exit. Leaving you out on the balcony, wondering if you'd just imagined that entire interaction. Knowing it was too good to be true to just be a hallucination.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as he walked away, a desire stirring inside you like no other man had ever provoked. You could tell he would only be trouble, but that only made you more intrigued. And for the first time since you'd gotten to Italy, you felt a noticeable shift. Perhaps Rafe was the distraction you'd been seeking out this whole time.

notes: something i’ve been working on for a min! gonna be a miniseries, i’m still putting it together so the updates won’t be as frequent as my smau but wanted to get this out for you guys! hope you enjoy it 💛

[mellowyellowdaydream]

Study Break

A/N: here’s a quick little thang 😉 not proofread cause I don’t have the time lol but hope y’all enjoy! I’ve been busy moving with my little fam up into the mountain!

Word count: just over 3k

Rating: mature audiences only because of mature themes! 18+!!!!

Warnings: smut(obviously), readers in control, so sub!dean?????, p in v, sorry if I missed anything

Summary: Y/N Singer helps Dean take his studying more seriously, hopefully

It was a humid summer day in Sioux Falls, almost all the windows were open to help pull in the breeze from outside. Minimal clothing was worn because well it was too hot and humid.

Bobby was out on a one of his rare cases, probably helping Rufus is a state not too far from here. Never being too far from home base.

Sam was sprawled out on the couch,his long legs dangling off the couch because of his size, with a book covering his eyes. Snores spilling from his mouth. He must have been up all night going through lore books. Y/N thought looking at the Sasquatch of a man.

Y/N and Dean were seated side by side at the big desk in the room. Surprisingly Dean was stripped down to just a plain black tshirt and his jeans. Y/N was in a pair of black torn up short shorts and fishnets, as well as a black cami top with the little lace edging and small rose in the center of the hem by her breasts. Y/N was always surprised that Dean was still somehow cool enough in a thick pair of denim. But then again it would be really weird to see him in shorts.

Dean was flipping through the book in front of him. Starting to get huffy because unlike Sam or Y/N he didn’t like to fill his free time with lore or research. He huffed one more time and then slammed the book shut. Resting his face into his palms, them rubbing soothingly over his eyes.

“What’s wrong Dean?” Y/N asked, her eyes not leaving her book, every once in a while scribbling something into her notebook.

“This is boring. Can’t we go out to the shop, I’m sure you could use some help on your truck.” Dean offered hoping they could sneak away.

“Dean, my garage would be an oven right now, maybe later once it’s cooled off.” Y/N answered, still flipping and scribbling away.

“Fine.” Dean said leaning back in his chair, taking a look at Y/N.

Mhhhmmmm that shirt does wonders for her, and those shorts-fuck. Don’t even get my started on her tights-what I would give to just rip through em here an- no Dean no dirty thoughts. Dean said admiring her but then stopping himself because he didn’t want to cross an unvoiced boundary of his.

Don’t fuck Y/N under her fathers roof. Because for some reason it felt like Bobby would find out and then once again it would be Dean’s ass.

“Why are you staring at me?” Y/N asked, feeling the weight of Dean's gaze.

“I’m not staring, I’m admiring sweetheart. There's a difference.” Dean said trying to justify his actions, adjusting himself in his chair.

“Ok Dean, sure.” Y/N said, pushing hair back and off her face. The little stray hairs sticking to her forehead.

“Why don’t we try something? Hmm, you trust me?” Y/N offered to Dean, finally looking up at him. Meeting his playful gaze.

“What do you have in mind?” Dean teased.

“Get a room!” Was grumbled from the book over Sam’s face.

“With pleasure!” Y/N said, getting up and stretching her body. The small pops and cracks making her release a small moan.

Which didn’t go unnoticed by Dean, him squirming in his seat. Y/N grabbed her notebook and started to exit the library area of the house, stopping in the doorway waiting for Dean to follow. She simply turned to look at him and just raised an eyebrow.

And when he realized she wanted him to follow her, he scrambled to get up, his chair doing an awkward scrap against the floor in his rush to stand. He met her at the doorway while she led him up the staircase, it shifting under their weight as they ascended.

Her room was at the top of the stairs and to the right. Posters of her favorite bands were taped to the door(think Siouxsie Sioux, Duran Duran, Korn, Slipknot), with the obvious angsty ‘keep out’ sign. She kicked open the door for them, and waited to close it after Dean. Flipping on the ceiling fan to help circulate the air, opening the one window that was by her door. A small breeze hitting her in her face.

He obviously made a beeline for her bed because it was not only inviting but it was like heaven on earth with how comfortable it was and that it smelt like Y/N. Which was dried roses, tobacco and something musky. He loved it, and wanted to just choke on the smell if it meant he would die happy.

Dean flopped down into the fluffy comforter face first so he could nuzzle to the pillows and blankets. He was too distracted to notice Y/N walk over to her small stereo in the corner to pop in one of her many cassette tapes. The soft melody of Dark side of the Moon by Pink Floyd filled the room as she crept over to her bed. Tripping on a pair of her forgotten platforms making her stumble and hit her toe on the bed frame.

“Son of a bitch!” Y/N said hobbling over to her bedside, sitting down to run her exposed toe.

“You ok?” Dean mumbled from the pillows.

“I’m fine, it doesn’t need to be amputated.” Y/N joked, climbing on the bed. She walked on her knees until she was straddling his waist from behind. Her journal still in her hand, that was now resting on his back.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, wanting to flip over to look up at her.

“Well you need to learn more about what’s out there so I thought I could help you.” Y/N said matter of factually, poking her finger into his back muscle.

“And how are you gonna do that?” Dean asked, shifting under her slightly.

“I have my ways, now what do you want to learn about? I think Sirens would be interesting.” Y/N said starting to flip through her journal until she found the page she wanted.

“Fine, can I at least turn over?” Dean sighed, pushing up slightly. Y/N slipped off and let him turn over.

Once he was laying one his back Y/N swung her leg back over his waist, noticing a slight bulge starting to make its presence known. Deans hands found her thighs to rest on, his fingers picking slightly at her tights and loose strings from her jeans edge. She rested her hands back on his chest with her open journal.

“Alright sweetheart. How are you gonna help me remember Sirens?” Dean asked, his eyes drawing lines up and down her body. Admiring the position they were in. His hips making a quick roll to get closer and more comfortable under her

“Well it’s a surprise, but first I gotta do something.” Y/N said, a little smirk gracing her face. She gave her hips a testing roll, raising her eyebrow at Dean.

He just looked at her in awe-because no matter how hot or humid it was here he wanted to be closer to her. He wanted their skin to stick together, all sweaty. She looked like a work of art from his point of view. Her hair somewhat messy and thrown up on her head, random pieces of hair sticking out and falling from her bun. She had no makeup on, not wanting to fuss with the extra layer in this heat. But there were remnants of some black rubbed around her eyes making them pop from her paled skin.

Dean traced his hand from her thigh up her side, tickling slightly as a small smile graced her face. His hand didn’t stop when his finger felt all of her necklaces, different charms and gems dangling from different length chains. He finally stopped when his fingers started to brush her jaw and face.

She just smiled and rolled her hips again, looking deeply into his eyes and she bit her lip. “Little” Dean making himself very well know-even though he was anything but little.

“I think we have too many layers on for what I want to accomplish here.” Y/N said starting to unbutton her shorts hoping Dean would get the hint.

He caught on quite quick and reached for his own jeans, Y/N climbed off so she could wiggle the shorts down her body. Dean wiggled his jeans and boxers off while he laid down, very eager for what was gonna happen. Kicking them somewhere into her room. His member flopped onto his upper thigh, resting in all its thick veiny glory.

Y/N reached to take her tights off next but stopped when Dean's hand grabbed hers.

“What?” Y/N asked very confused.

Dean just smirked and grabbed her hand to bring her back on to his lap. She settled over him, her core brushing against his sensitive member as she straddled him again. She found her journal in the bed covers before proceeding. His hands finding her hips to pull her closer to him.

He noticed how her panties somehow matched the lace and little rose of her tank top. His fingers tracing along the pattern of the fishnets up to her panties, his finger coming up to the edges on her panties. While she was distracted he took his pointer and middle fingers on both hands to pull the tights apart, causing them to rip open at her crotch.

“Hey! I liked these!” Y/N exclaimed, slapping one hand onto his chest playfully.

“Well you can wear it as a shirt then. I know you alternative people love making shit your own way.” Dean said, his fingers starting to stroke at her pussy through the soft fabric of her panties, feeling a small wet spot forming.

“Fine, now before we get started. Are you ok with me being in charge? I remember you wanting to try it out sometime.” Y/N asked, starting to fidget with her journal that was still splayed out on dean's chest.

“Say less sweetheart.” Dean confirmed, letting his arms fall back to around his head.

Y/N just smiled at him brightly, reaching down between them finding her panties. She slid them to the side and stood up on her knees to readjust. She grabbed Dean's cock and sank down on him.

They both gasped, he was buried to the hilt, pelvises resting together. Y/N just took a deep breath to steady herself and picked up her journal. Ignoring the look on dean's face, him being utterly confused as to what they were actually about to do.

“Now sirens are tricky creatures. They usually never leave Greece. So if you encounter one it’s pretty rare. What’s hard is that they can read you mind and take a form that would appeal to you.” Y/N said, giving a small roll of her hips.

“What do you think Dean?” She added, making sure he paid attention to the lesson.

“Yeah, super rare.” Dean said, struggling to ignore the way her tight, warm pussy around his cock.

“Dean. Pay attention or I’m getting myself off and gonna make you suffer.” Y/N said, stopping her hip rolls and adjusting herself on top of him.

Dean just shut his mouth and nodded. He made his hands grasp the headboard above him, trying to ground himself.

“Good boy. Now while yes a siren could come to you as something you are attracted to it can also come to you as someone you care about. Whatever it can do to trick you into doing its bidding.” Y/N continued, started to roll her hips again. Dean gasped because he loved the praise and when she adjusted them, it created a new and deeper angle.

“Repeat Dean.” Y/N said, trying to get him to focus on what they were trying to learn.

“They can be an attractive person or resemble someone you know. They want to use you.” Dean said between gasps because while Y/N stopped reading out loud she didn’t stop the tortuous drag and fall of her hips against his thus creating a fire to form in both their bellies.

“Good, now once they have targeted you they are gonna do anything to get you in contact with their spit. It holds a venom that will make you so devoted you forget yourself as a person and just want to do what they want you to do.” Y/N kept reading, and riding Dean.

Her hips nor knees getting tired whatsoever because the fire in her belly was spurring her on. The power she held over Dean made her feel magical. A gasp left her lips at the thought of holding the power of orgasm over Dean and him just letting her do it adding to her fire.

“So don’t share drinks with strangers? Or kiss strangers?” Dean said, his grip tightening on the headboard.

“Correct, now there is one true way to kill a siren. And that’s to take a bronze dagger dipped in their affected victims blood.” Y/N finished with the page, flipping it to the next.

“Got it, bronze dagger, active victims blood. What else?” Dean said, getting impatient that he couldn’t just grab her hips and fuck up into her to bring them both to ecstasy. He could tell it was taking both of them a lot of strength to not do just that.

“Well that’s more modern lore. The older lore is that of legends from lost ships.” Y/N gasped, rolling her hips until he hit that spongey spot inside her. Them both gasping at the electric contact.

“Can I fuck you yet?” Dean asked very obviously impatient. “I’ve been a good boy so to speak.” He added hoping that would make her say yes.

“No I want you to repeat it all back to me first then you can fuck me.” Y/N said matter of factly.

“Fine. Sirenscanappearasanattraxtivepersonorsomeoneclosetoyoutogetclosetoyou. Youwannaavoidtheirspitorelsetheycontrolyou. Inordertokillthemyouneedabronzedaggerdippedintheafflictedsblood. Now can I fuck you?” Dean spit out so fast it took a second for Y/N to register the words flying out of his mouth. His hips bucking up into her, hitting her g-spot again. Making her gasp and stop herself, throwing her journal off the bed. Putting her hands on his chest to steady herself.

“Ok Dean, go ahead.” Y/N said, relinquishing her control of this whole situation to him.

Dean didn’t waste any time, his hands released the headboard and quickly grabbed her hips. He planted his feet and started to piston his hips up into her pussy. Them both way too worked up from all the teasing she’s been doing while he “learned”.

Y/N leaned down to bring her face into the crook of his neck, her hands wandering over anything she could reach-his face, hair, or chest. Her gasps muffled into his neck and shoulder. Her pussy squelching with each thrust because she got incredibly turned on having him at her will.

“Fuck sweetheart. I think we need to do these types of lessons more often.” Dean said panting between thrusts. He worked his hand between the two of them and helped move her panties aside so he could find her clit.

His thumb started to circle the sensitive piece of soft flesh. Making Y/N moan into his neck, she started to kiss where she could wanting to show her appreciation for the attention to her clit. Dean continued to circle, changing speed and how he circled her clit. Knowing if he didn’t change it up she would become too oversensitive.

His face found her neck as well and whispered sweet nothings to her. -Such a good girl, and fuck I love how you keep squeezing me! She would just gasp and clench, a flood of arousal adding to the mess they were making.

Deans hips started to stutter, not being able to hold back much longer. He quickened his pace of thrusts as well as the strokes of his thumb, wanting to bring you to orgasmic relief first. He hit a spot deep inside her, and circled her clit just right to do so, making her gasp and choke a moan out. Y/N pressed her face further into his neck, her hands finding purchase in deans hair.

Dean gave a few shallow thrusts, chasing his high. He let out a deep groan and spilled his hot cum deep into Y/Ns fluttering pussy, the wetness almost pushing Dean out completely.

“Fuck. Definitely how we’ll learn from now on.” Y/N said, panting into his neck. Her hands cradling his face, leaving small kisses on the skin she could reach.

“Definitely.” Was all Dean could say, completely blissed out.

“Bobby’ll be home in an hour you two!” Sam called out from downstairs. The reality setting back in.

“Oh fuck he’s gonna kill me.” Dean said pulling out and trying to scramble off the bed.

“What? Sam?” Y/N asked, resting back against her headboard, her face completely blissed out and flushed.

“No your dad. He’s gonna beat my ass and then mount it in the den.” Dean said scrambling around half naked. Y/N just pointed to the opposite side of where he was looking to show him where his pants landed.

He scurried over and quickly shimmied them back on.

“Now would love nothing more than to hangout casually in here but I just feel like he knows I desecrated his own daughter in his home. So I’ll be right back.” Dean said quickly exiting the room.

He came back shortly with a towel to wipe Y/N’s pussy clean. She simply hissed at the coarse texture to her soft folds. Dean tossed the towel into her laundry hamper and gave her a quick kiss on the lips and hurried out of the room.

He peaked his head in quickly, “I'm gonna shower, you should probably change.” Was all he said before making his final exit to down stairs.

Y/N just smiled, blissful with how things were turning out.

[malrieldremm]

friends

Pairing: Ridoc Gamlyn X reader

TW: pure smut, smut with feelings.

World Count: 2740

A/N: first smut ever lol sorry if this is shitty. Haven’t read onyx storm yet but I’m FERAL for this man!!

-

you love all your friends…but Ridoc was special to say the least.

With him, it was different.

The way his eyes would always find yours in a room full of person, the way his touch, no matter how cold, always made you heart melt.

You just got each other.

You loved how he was never serious.

Which might be the reason you were laughing your butt off when he suggested that you two use each other to let off steam when you can’t sneak off to find anyone.

Of course you had no idea of the feelings he had for you, and there was no way Ridoc was going to admit them. You layed back on your back into the mattress trying to breathe through your sore muscles from laughing. He rolled his eyes and leaned over, holding himself up on his elbow.

“I’m serious. I think it’d be a good idea.” He said quietly this time. Which was…odd for him.

Very odd.

You propped yourself up as the look on your fefe changed completely, now dead serious.

Ridoc felt his heart skip a beat under the serious look on your face. He took a deep breath and nodded. Yes. Really. He could do this. It was just physical. A way to blow off steam. Right. He gently placed a strand of your hair behind your ear, his thumb trailing along your cheek before he spoke. His cold hands sent shiver down your spine, as you looked up at him, unsure if the situation.

“Yeah. Why not?”

“I-“ you stopped for a second.

The feeelings you had for him were undeniable.. perhaps, you could just take pleasure out of this, leaving the heart.. out.

You didn’t really know if tuoi could do it, considering the speed at which your heart was beating.

You looked at his face intently, trying to memorize everything you could.

“well.. How good of an idea would it be?”

Ridoc couldn’t help but to smile at the smirk on your face. He couldn’t read you at that moment. Did you want this? Did he want this? He was worried about being too rough with you- but maybe he was overthinking it.

His hand came up to rest on your hip, gently tugging you, gesturing for you to lay down. Ridoc moved as well, getting on all fours above you.

“Pretty damn good I’d say.”

“Well, how about you show me how much?” You said, a small smile forming on your face.

The smirk grew on his face as his eyes roamed up and down your body. The way you were looking at him- Ridoc felt almost weak. Gods, he wanted you so badly, he had wanted you for so long, but he was scared to push too far. He gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head to the side as he moved to straddle you. His head leaned down to your ear as he spoke.

“As you wish. Princess.” His breath was hot your my skin, as he leaned in to kiss you.

He tried to focus on keeping this physical, but when you moved your hands to his hair, his brain stopped working.

He sighed into your kiss and cupped your face with both of his hands, kissing you back with the same intensity. Ridoc pulled away for a moment, panting gently before he leaned his head into the crook of your neck, a shaky exhale leaving his lips.

“…Gods.. you’re beautiful” he said against your lips.

You froze for a second, heart thundering in your chest. The words hit you harder than his touch ever could. It wasn’t like Ridoc to be this raw, this unguarded. It scared you, thrilled you, confused you all at once.

Your fingers, still tangled in his hair, tightened just slightly as you tried to process the shift between playful and… something deeper. Something you both might not come back from.

“Ridoc…” you whispered, voice soft and unsure.

He didn’t move immediately, his breath still fanning across your skin as if he couldn’t bear to part from you yet. When he did finally lift his head, his usual cocky grin was nowhere to be found. Instead, those eyes—those eyes that always found you, even when no one else could—were searching yours, looking for something he wasn’t sure he could ask for.

“I mean it,” he said, voice lower, rougher. “You’re—more than you know.”

Your chest ached at the admission, and every instinct screamed at you to pull him closer and never let go. But there was still the unspoken rule, the idea that this was supposed to be casual. A game. And yet, as you stared into Ridoc’s eyes, you knew neither of you were playing anymore.

“Ridoc,” you tried again, swallowing the lump in your throat, “are you sure you can just… keep this simple?”

He let out a humorless chuckle, thumb tracing slow circles on your hip. “Doesn’t feel simple right now.”

You smiled faintly at that, feeling your walls crumble with every second he held you like this. “No,” you admitted, voice barely audible, “it doesn’t.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The weight of unspoken feelings wrapped around you like a heavy blanket. Finally, Ridoc sighed and leaned down again, resting his forehead against yours.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, almost pleading.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Instead, you whispered back, “Don’t you dare.”

His lips were on yours again in a heartbeat, but this time, it wasn’t rushed or heated. It was soft. Reverent. The kiss of someone who cared deeply but didn’t quite know how to say it. And in that moment, with his hands holding your face like you were fragile and precious, you realized the truth—you didn’t want simple. Not with him. Never with him.

Ridoc pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “No turning back, you know.”

Your heart raced as you whispered, “Good.”

His grin returned, smaller, but somehow more genuine. And when he kissed you again, it wasn’t about blowing off steam anymore. It was about finally surrendering to something you both had been too afraid to admit.

Ridoc’s gaze darkened the second you gave him that answer. The playful glint you were used to was gone, replaced with something far more intense, something hungry. His grip on your waist tightened, and without warning, he pressed you deeper into the mattress, his body pinning you there.

“Good,” he murmured, voice low and dripping with heat. “Because I’m done pretending.”

Before you could even catch your breath, his lips were on yours again—rougher this time, demanding. The kiss was nothing like the ones before. His teeth caught your lower lip as he pulled slightly, making you gasp beneath him, and that sound only seemed to set him off further.

Ridoc wasted no time, one hand sliding under your shirt, fingertips icy against your heated skin as they traced up your ribs. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” he growled into your mouth, before trailing his lips along your jaw and down your neck.

Your head fell back as his teeth grazed your pulse point, and he smirked against your skin. “Sensitive,” he teased, his breath hot and ragged.

You barely managed to respond, too focused on how his cold fingers found the edge of your waistband, playing with it, testing the boundary. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes burning into you.

“Last chance,” he whispered, voice thick with restraint. “Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

But instead of answering with words, you grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back down, kissing him harder this time, pouring every bit of pent-up tension into it.

Ridoc groaned into your mouth, the sound deep and guttural as he pressed his hips into yours, leaving no room for guessing just how much he wanted this. How much he wanted you.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, losing the last bit of control he’d been clinging to.

His hand slipped lower, tugging at your waistband with more purpose now, while the other slid into your hair, pulling just enough to make you arch into him. He smirked, satisfied, watching how you responded to every little touch like he was learning you in real-time.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he breathed.

“And you’re still talking too much,” you shot back with a smirk of your own.

Ridoc’s eyes flashed with heat. “Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that.”

And then he kissed you like he meant every word—like you were his, and he wasn’t going to let you forget it.

Ridoc’s patience snapped. In one swift motion, he pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought, his eyes drinking you in like he’d been starving for this. The way his gaze raked over your exposed skin made you feel like you were on fire, and yet, his cold hands left a trail of goosebumps as they roamed your body.

“You’re dangerous,” he growled, voice deep and rough, leaning down to drag his teeth along your collarbone. His tongue followed, soothing the sting, only to bite down again, harder this time, marking you.

Your breath caught as he pushed your hips deeper into the bed, grinding against you with a delicious, deliberate pressure that left you dizzy. You could feel how badly he wanted you, how much restraint it was taking for him to not tear the rest of your clothes off right then and there.

Ridoc pulled back just enough to lock eyes with you, smirking when he saw the flushed, needy look on your face. “You’re already so worked up,” he teased, voice dripping with dark amusement. “And I’ve barely touched you.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but your words died in your throat when his fingers slipped past the band of your pants, teasing the edge of your underwear. He moved achingly slow, tracing circles on your inner thigh, watching your every reaction like it was his personal obsession.

“You want more?” His voice was nothing but a sinful whisper in your ear as he nipped at your earlobe.

“Gods, Ridoc,” you breathed out, nails digging into his back. “Yes.”

That was all he needed.

With a low growl, he yanked your pants and underwear down in one motion, discarding them onto the floor. His hands returned to your thighs, spreading them wide as he settled between them, eyes dark and wild.

“Look at you,” he murmured, running a hand slowly up your leg before resting it possessively on your hip. “So perfect.”

Without breaking eye contact, he dipped his head lower, lips ghosting over your inner thigh before finally pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin there. Each one dragged a shiver from you, but it was the anticipation—the way he hovered just shy of where you needed him most—that had your head spinning.

Ridoc smirked against your skin. “Tell me how bad you want me,” he whispered, voice husky.

When you whimpered, grinding your hips closer to his mouth, he chuckled darkly. “No, no. I want to hear you say it.”

You clenched your jaw, but the ache inside you was unbearable now. “I want you,” you hissed. “I need you.”

His satisfied grin was the last thing you saw before he finally closed the distance, mouth claiming you with a hunger that made you cry out, arching off the mattress. His tongue moved with calculated precision, slow but devastating, while his fingers gripped your thighs to keep you exactly where he wanted you—at his mercy.

Every moan and gasp only seemed to spur him on, his pace quickening as he groaned against you, clearly just as affected as you were.

When he finally pulled away, his lips were slick, his eyes dark and full of mischief as he crawled back up your body, settling between your legs.

“You taste like sin,” he murmured, voice ragged. “And I’m not nearly done with you.”

Ridoc barely gave you time to catch your breath before his mouth was on yours again, letting you taste yourself on his lips. The kiss was filthy, heated, and left you trembling beneath him as his hand slid back down, fingers toying with how soaked you’d become.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled, voice gravelly, almost dangerous. He tugged at his own shirt, ripping it over his head before tossing it aside. The sight of him above you—muscles tense, jaw clenched, eyes devouring every inch of you—only made the ache inside worse.

His cold skin pressed against your warmth as he settled between your legs again, grinding into you without any mercy this time. The friction made you gasp, and Ridoc drank it in like it was his lifeline.

“Tell me how long you’ve been thinking about this,” he demanded as he rocked his hips, voice sharp but laced with that teasing tone only he could pull off. “Tell me how long you’ve wanted me.”

Your mind spun under the weight of him, but still, you managed to smirk. “Since the first time you couldn’t keep your eyes off me.”

Ridoc’s breath hitched, and something inside him snapped. His hand shot to your throat—not with enough pressure to hurt, but enough to make you gasp softly as his thumb brushed along your jawline. His other hand slid between your bodies, lining himself up against you.

“You have no idea what you just did to me,” he snarled.

And then, without hesitation, he pushed inside you—deep, slow, filling you completely as your back arched and a moan ripped from your throat. The stretch, the intensity of it, stole the air from your lungs, but Ridoc didn’t give you a moment to recover. He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

“That’s it,” he whispered darkly. “Feel every inch of me.”

The pace he set was brutal, hips snapping against yours, the sounds of skin meeting skin filling the room as you clung to him. His grip on your throat loosened, hand sliding down to your chest as his teeth found the base of your neck again, biting hard enough to leave another mark.

“Look at you,” he groaned. “So fucking perfect like this, under me.”

You could barely form words, too lost in how deep he was, how rough yet precise every thrust felt. His cold fingers pinched at your skin, teasing, claiming every part of you as his mouth moved lower, tongue and teeth dragging across your chest.

Ridoc’s control was fraying; you could feel it in how erratic his movements became, how ragged his breathing was as he whispered curses against your skin.

“Not gonna last if you keep tightening around me like that,” he growled, pulling back to see your face—flushed, wrecked, desperate for more.

His thumb brushed your lower lip. “You close, princess?”

All you could do was nod, whimpering as you rolled your hips up to meet him, needing more, faster, harder.

“Good,” he hissed, slamming into you with everything he had now. “Because you’re gonna come with me.”

Your nails raked down his back as you felt your body give out beneath him, the wave crashing over you so intensely it left you shaking. Ridoc’s name tore from your lips, and that was all it took—he followed with a deep groan, burying himself inside you as he spilled everything he’d been holding back.

For a few moments, all either of you could do was pant, bodies tangled together, sweat-slick and spent. Ridoc’s forehead rested against yours, his breath warm as his fingers absentmindedly traced your sides.

“Yeah,” he finally murmured, voice hoarse. “Definitely not just blowing off steam.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still trying to steady your heartbeat. “No kidding.”

His smirk returned, lazy and satisfied. “Round two later?”

You grinned, pulling him down for another kiss. “Absolutely.”

[wings-of-ink]

Ask with some light spoiler content for chapter 5 below!

@blook88

hi lunan. i really liked your game/story. i especially love the characters and their interactions with eachother and with MC. i have some questions: 1.) i felt that after the nathan camp scene (i think in chapter 2) the flirt options with oswin slowed down a bit/there was less screentime for oswin. i understand this, since the following chapters where the introductions of duri & runes respectively. will future chapters always have their focus on different characters or will there be a choice like "choose with whom you want to spend time with"? 2.) relatively at the end of the demo we met a character named aster. i assumed that he would be one of the flirtable, non-romance option characters. but since he nows travels with the group, i have to ask: is/will he be an official romance option? im mainly asking, because while my MC dont have a problem with having one night stands, she (and i as the player) prefer to flirt with only one RO. 3.) will the relationships at some point get locked in? if so, will this happen around the same time or will some RO take longer? andwhat about their frst naughty time? e.g. oswin hints, that there are things he cannot say now and he doesnt want a relationship til then. does this mean his relationship lock in/first time will happen way later in the story? 4.) your ask button says: "reaction asks paused". does this mean we shouldnt send those in OR that we can, but you will only answer these at a later point in time? 5.) during the whole demo, the relationship tab was always empty, meaning there were only the names of the RO, but no description of their relationship towards MC. im not sure if this is a bug or not. thank you for your answers.

Hello dear! I'm glad you are liking the IF and characters! I will answer your questions as much as I can without giving too much away.

Now that all our our ROs have been introduced, time between them will be split up as evenly as I can engineer it. The MC will be given choices here and there for more particular interactions/events featuring just one chosen RO (and these can be either out of romance or friendship). For example, during the intro to chapter 6, one of the ROs will speak up in defense of MC if needed. But during the entire chapter, each RO gets a private event with MC which can be tailored with flirtatious or just friendly moments. And you aren't required to flirt at all with any of the ROs to romance them. As long as you are choosing that your MC has warm feelings toward them (romance or friendship), that is what spurs the reciprocation of those feelings.

Eventually, you will get a lock-in moment. I can't say with certainty when this will take place and it could be different for each RO. My thinking here is that you/MC should make their choice when some of the RO's "dirt" comes to the surface. Their secrets and/or the troubles they carry will be revealed to help the characters bond. For a couple of the ROs, this is also so MC can make a choice they can live with. Some secrets might be difficult for them to digest or it might change their heart completely.

Any of the one night stands will be clearly indicated as such even from any of the ROs. Duri has an option for a casual hook-up in Ch 6, but this does not lock you out of romance or anything nor is it required to romance them. Zahn will have more moments as well like in Ch 5. They are the only two ROs that the MC can get that physical with before being locked-in.

My reaction asks are currently (technically) still paused. I had intended to unpause those a while back, but I simply lack the energy these days. Historically, I have spent many hours answering them and it takes away time for the IF. Some have still sent them in, and I basically just sit on them, lol. When I do officially unpause reaction asks, I will have some guidelines for myself and others to follow. Here is a link to the Inbox Rules. I think I would prefer that you hold on to any reaction asks you have for now.

And yes, the relationship tab is actually empty. I am wanting to revamp the menus and codex so I haven't bothered to put much into them in the last couple updates. Eventually there will be some character data in there and it will track your MC's feelings. As with all things, time to do this is a precious commodity

Thank you for stopping by and sending in question, my friend! I hope I've helped clear some things up for you. ^_^

[fairyminnie444]

fairyminnie thank you SO FREAKING MUCH you literally answered my ask less than an hour ago (I was the shaky void anon) and girl I just NEED to tell you what happened after I sent that.

For some backstory on why I did it immediately and why I was literally stalking your page to get an answer lol it's because last night when I went to sleep after sending that ask, I entered the void. For like 10 seconds. I know for a fact I was in there because I felt the shaky thing again and then It got pitch black behind my eyes and I saw one singular pink star. And that's because when I saw Void State successes I read about this girl who said when she entered there were pink sparkles everywhere, and another person said that it got pitch black when they were entering. So I thought "Why not both?"

Anyway, so when I entered it I was super scared at first and then I got insanely excited like just as you said lol my mind was racing and my gut was screaming at me "OPEN YOUR EYES OPEN YOUR EYES!" but I didn't know if that would wake me up and then I got kicked out or something lmfao 😭😭 This really gave me motivation I did not know I needed though. Because I never really got any "big" manifestation and I just needed to know what it was like to experience this stuff, it just felt so real. Like I'm never doubting the law again. And btw I didn't even need to feel sleepy or anything like that, I entered within like 4 minutes! which is exactly what I affirmed for.

As for my state of mind when I intended to try again, I was walking around my room telling myself "Ugh it's so easy to enter the void I enter it every night within like 5 minutes" That was also the first time I felt the knowing feeling, which I almost never do. Anyway, I'm super sorry for the really long ask. I'm still super giddy I guess and I really needed to tell someone.

Once again tysm minnie I'll take your advice from the ask when I feel that thingy again hahaha and then maybe I'll finally open my eyes and calm down

Omgggg im so happy for youuuu, thanks for sharingggg and i know you got this, tell me everything laterrrrrrr ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[barksenji]

DÉJÀ VU: YOU'RE A DUMBASS, SANS.

I'm starting to think that I probably should make a tag for this. What do you guys think? Again, Déja Vu is a Dusttake from Dusttale that focuses more on Sans' paranoia and mental decline. Hope you enjoy this one. Lol.

Here's the AO3 link;

As soon as Alphys saw Sans, she sensed something wrong with him. He was slouching like always, hands stuffed deep in his hoodie, but he seemed oddly restless. His grin was still there, but it was stretched too thin, like it might shatter any second. And when he spoke—

"hey, alph. got a sec?"

His voice was off. Too stiff. Too careful, like every word took effort to hold together.

He hesitated before handing her the papers. He’d asked her to review something about the timeline—something about resets—but what she got was barely legible. It was a mess—fragments of text scratched over one another, formulas spilling into margins like they'd been written in a panic.

"Uh... Sans—what is this?"

"I told you, it's about the timeline," he muttered. His eye lights flicked nervously between Alphys and the pages in her hand. "something’s off. It's not right. like an… an echo? or, uh, a ghost? but without the sheet."

Alphys frowned, flipping through the pages awkwardly. The words were a blur. They made no sense.

"N-no! I mean, I get that you're talking about, uh... resets? b-but this—this doesn't make sense. I can't read it."

She made a brief pause.

"S-sorry."

Sans gave a dry chuckle, his hand pointing shakily to a specific formula with a bony phalanx.

"Sure it does. It’s easy, like Sunday morning... except it’s not a song. Heh."

R = T(∞) - T(0). The page read.

"A reset should erase everything, right? but it doesn't. something sticks. something stays behind. why?"

"Uh— you say something stays?"

"yeah. look at this."

His finger slid to another part of the page. Alphys squinted, trying to follow.

1/(T - R) → ∞ as T → R.

"When the timeline approaches the restart point, something happens. something weird. something that shouldn’t. a singularity, maybe? quantum collapse? a mistake? a... a probability? or—oh—wait—it's a choice. is that it? That must be it."

Alphys tried to keep up. She really did. But Sans was jumping between ideas too fast, like his mind was racing on parallel tracks that never fully met.

"Sans… I think you need to rest."

His hands clenched into fists. He was shaking.

If someone said the same fucking thing again, he swore to god—

"no."

His voice came out sharp. Too sharp.

"just… please. help me, okay?"

Alphys stiffened. Sans never asked for help in these kinds of things. Never. But the way he looked at her—strained, his eyes wide with exhaustion, the almost pleading undertone—made her throat tighten.

"A-ah... O-okay. I'll do what I can."

For a second, his tension seemed to ease. Then, before she could react, he pulled her into a hug.

"thank you."

His voice was quiet, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

"god. thank you so much."

Alphys froze.

"I-it’s nothing, Sans."

———

It wasn’t long before he was back in the lab.

This time, something had changed. There was an unspoken understanding between them, heavy in the air.

Genocide.

Neither spoke for what felt like an eternity. And then—

"Sans—I checked your notes and—I couldn’t—"

"I need you to use the determination extractor on me."

Alphys felt her breath hitch in her chest.

"WHAT?!" She nearly dropped her clipboard. "How—how do you even—"

"buddy, i need you to do it. right now. or i'm going to do something real stupid."

There was something frantic in his voice, like he was running out of time. Like he’d already made up his mind, and these were just formalities.

"You’re out of your mind!" Her voice cracked. "It wasn’t made—it wasn’t made for monsters, Sans! I could kill you! It won’t work—"

Sans grabbed her shoulders—too rough, too sudden—and Alphys barely had time to process the desperation in his grip before she saw it.

The lights in his eyes burned red. A deep, searing red with the faintest flicker of sky blue, like a dying ember.

My god. So it was true.

"alphys. i need it. i need you to do it now. or i’m gonna do it myself."

There was a moment—an awful, fleeting moment—where she almost caved. His voice, his expression, the sheer need in his words…

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t let him do it. She wouldn't be able to forgive herself if something went wrong again.

"You know what? It’s okay. Yeah, it’s fine—do whatever you want, pal. i—yeah."

Before she could react, Sans turned away—

—so she grabbed him.

She clung to him tightly, shaking.

"I-I’m not going to let you do it! Please, Sans. The risk is too great." She begged. "We can—we can fix this together! We can keep looking for answers—"

"i’m tired of looking, alphys."

His voice barely rose above a whisper.

"i just—"

A pause. A breath.

"i just wanna forget."

And then he was gone.

A shortcut. A flicker of blue light. And when Alphys tried to follow—

The entrance to the True Lab was blocked. Thick, towering bone walls sealed every path.

Her stomach twisted.

"Sans… what are you doing?"

---

The machine loomed before him.

Even looking at it made something in his soul twist. He knew what this thing did. What it had done. But he pushed that feeling aside.

There was work to do.

He wouldn't have to give a shit if he didn't remember anything in the first place.

He wouldn't have to care.

The thing was, the system wasn’t built for someone like him. It was locked behind layers of security—redundant checks, energy barriers, biometric scans. He spent what felt like an eternity picking it apart, bypassing one system after another, forcing the piece of trash to acknowledge him as an eligible subject.

Finally—

The machine hummed to life.

Sans didn’t hesitate. He stepped into the containment chamber, bones heavy, sockets dark.

The process began immediately.

First—the scan. His soul flickered into visibility, bright and trembling in his chest. He barely had time to take in the sight before—

Pain.

A searing, pulling, wrong sensation as the machine latched onto his essence, analyzing, deconstructing. His soul shuddered under the weight of it.

Then—the extraction.

Hooks digging into him, yanking, ripping. A deep, awful tearing sensation that cracked through his form. His body trembled violently. He couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think—

It hurt. God, it hurt so much.

And then—the liquidification process.

Determination seeped out of him, pooling into the tubes. The bright red substance siphoned away like it was nothing. Like he, once again, was nothing.

His vision blurred. His thoughts slowed. His hands—his body—his soul—

He barely stayed conscious.

Somewhere, distantly, he felt a bitter, hollow sympathy for the poor bastards who’d been in here before him. The humans who had suffered through this.

At least they had been built for it.

He wasn’t.

He was going to die.

Oh god, he was—

---

He woke with a gasp, his hands instinctively reaching toward his soul. His fingers trembled, his breath erratic, the overwhelming sense of panic tightening around his chest.

And then, realization.

...No way. No fucking way.

He scrambled out of bed, disoriented and desperate, rushing toward his drawer. He pulled it open with frantic hands. He yanked out a mirror. His breath caught in his throat as he held it up—

"SANS! WAKE UP, YOU LAZYBONES! WE HAVE WORK TO DO! MAYBE TODAY, WE'LL FINALLY CATCH A HUMAN!"

No. Fucking. Way.

Across resets?

...Really?

...How?

Why?

The questions slammed into his mind. For a moment, there was a brief flicker of fascination, even curiosity. In any other situation, he might’ve lingered on those thoughts, but those feelings were quickly drowned out by the crushing weight of devastation.

He wished he’d just melt away, like all the others.

"...Sans?"

His gaze shifted, his eyes hollow with a distant kind of sorrow.

"You're a dumbass."

"Yeah, yeah. I know, I know."

"I know, Paps. I know."

Imagine realizing that even if you get rid of your determination, it'll just respawn next reset. Couldn't be me! The determination extractor did not extract the determination, sadly. It did however worsen his mental state. Yippee! Hooray!

[irradiatedrosegarden]

its really great to see someone on here whose so passionate abt dead money!! i would love to hear about daisy and their relationship to the other collars! (also, i really love how you draw christine, she is delightfully teensy tiny)

YES THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING, I WOULD BE SO HAPPY TO EXPLAIN :D

The entire situation of being stuck in the Sierra Madre and forced to cooperate was a special kind of awful for Daisy, what with her being the type of person who does not trust other people (not at all quickly, at least). She likes being in control, and absolutely hates feeling like her life is in the hands (or, *ahem*, around the neck) of anyone else, which makes for a very interesting situation with some very interesting dynamics with the others collars!

Daisy and Dean:

Their relationship is something of an unstable equality, where they both hold the upper hand (and both want to hold the upper hand), until they don't. They could each beat the other easily, Dean with smarts, Daisy with strength, and they each know it, and it's something about that shared capacity for ruthlessness (the ability for each of them to fight with teeth and claws and come out on top; there's no clear winner between them, it could go either way) that enables them to actually get pretty close. (and like, really close at one specific point in an abandoned convenience store, if you catch my drift.) Between the two of them, Dean is the one in the so-called "leader" position, calling the shots whenever they're doing things side-by-side, although look any closer than face value and it becomes clear how much he relies on Daisy's strength, selflessness, and general know-how. Dean will let her take point more often than not, let her charge ahead and do the dangerous things, the scary things, the hard things, that he will then take most of the credit for (she doesn't mind too much, luckily). They're kind of like,, y'know, a rich guy and his big ol' guard dog that he keeps on a short leash and claims the reason it's so short is because he needs to keep her under control, that it's a reminder that he's in charge, he's the one who owns her (metaphorically), but in reality it's so short because A) he finds comfort in her being so close, able to protect him at arms' length, and B) she is really who's leading. not him.

He also refers to her as "Miss Daisy" more often than not, which is kind of cute. She calls him "babydoll."

Daisy and Dog/God:

Daisy meets God twice, once in the police station and again in the kitchen, and both times, they absolutely hate each other. No camaraderie between them, nor was there ever any potential.

Daisy and Dog, however, end up caring for each other. A lot. They become fiercely protective over each other, quickly realizing "oh hey I would die for this person actually" and each putting in the extra effort to make sure the other has what they need. Daisy goes out of her way to keep Dog fed, to reassure him that he's doing well, everything's going fine. In return, Dog keeps an eye out for the things he realizes Daisy is afraid of (BUT IMPORTANT CHARACTER NOTE FOR DAISY, admitting fear is something she never, ever does. Ever.). Dog will use himself as a shield for Daisy (if need be), and does his best to steer her away from the darker areas of the Villa, or from more cramped, enclosed spaces or pathways (she has claustrophobia). He tends to scout ahead when they're traveling together, reporting back to Daisy with things like "Small space ahead" or "Ghosts that way," so they can take a different route (even if they could theoretically kill ghosts together with relative ease, ghosts are scary, dude).

Daisy has a lot of sympathy for Dog. For a good chunk of her time in the Sierra Madre, he acts as an anchor, reminding her she's not here (or shouldn't be here) for the gold. She's here to cooperate until she can get the hell out of here, and take Dog with her. He deserves better than what the Sierra Madre has handed him.

(no spoilers bc I'm writing a whole fic about Daisy's time in the Madre, but . . . . things don't end up going well for her and Dog; something she ends up regretting so much, and so deeply, she attempts to drink the cloud kiss (poison), which (fortunately) doesn't end up killing her.)

Daisy and Christine:

These two end up trusting one another more than anyone trusts anyone else, due to several factors, most having to do with their inexplicable shared experiences (having gone to the Big Empty and gotten their brains messed with, being the only two human women, both knowing and being very close with Veronica[!!][although it is a purely platonic, sisterly relationship with Daisy; we all know that was very much not the case with Christine and Veronica <3]). They both adapt to the other very quickly, and get really good at watching each others' backs while they do their things in the Villa. They have a pretty significant barrier between them, though, with Christine not being able to speak, and Daisy . . . really not being able to understand her, for the most part (low perception and very low intelligence), but those walls fall down once they reach the casino and Christine is able to speak and explain things in a way Daisy understands.

very important note as well, Daisy understands immediately that Christine wouldn't want to go in the elevator at her switching station to do all her work manually (tiny cramped room, noises like an Auto-Doc, no. way.). Forcing Christine into the elevator was never even an option; Daisy has claustrophobia, she doesn't want to be stuck in any tiny-ass room with barely any leg room. Christine appreciates this. :)

i love talking about characters and dead money this is so fabulous, thank you for your ask <33333

[fatedroses]

And some days, I just wish you wouldn't look at me at all.