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salemrph · 18 hours ago

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Wine, Lies and Longing

Summary: You win a romantic vineyard getaway, a dream escape you never expected. Unsure of who to take, you impulsively invite Sylus. What starts as playful pretending, soon becomes something far more real. In the heart of the vineyard, surrounded by the sweetness of wine and the glow of moonlight, you begin to wonder: is this just an act, or the start of something you’ve always longed for?

Based on the new banner Night Rendezvous!

Character: MC x Sylus // Genre: romantic, soft, explicit sexual content // Pet names: Kitten, Sweetie // Word count: 8,827 | Reading Time: 35 min

A/N: This was written before Night Rendezvous officially dropped, inspired by the clips we’ve seen over the past two days. Please note there might be some errors—I was absolutely frantic about the banner while writing this! I just couldn’t get Sylus out of my head.

WARNINGS: mdni, biting, penetration, cum. Remember, fanfics are not a reliable source of sexual education. For questions about protection and birth control, talk to your doctor.

A weeks ago, after visiting your regular supermarket to pick up your usual after-mission dinner set, the kind cashier, while taking your point card, reminded you about the ongoing special raffle.

"Miss, do you want to participate in the lottery?" You looked at the display banner on the counter. The image of serene mountains under a captivating sunset, the sparkle of a drop of water on a bunch of grapes, and the faces of people happily enjoying an unforgettable moment. “Two days in a mountainous region with beautiful views” it read— a getaway promising wine, relaxation, and a fleeting escape from your daily chaos. You paused for a moment, thinking that a vacation wouldn’t be a bad idea, especially since you’d been continuously working on missions, paperwork, and grueling training sessions. You let out a soft sight, the exhaustion creeping into your thoughts. What could happen? In worst case, you would not win the prize, and at the moment, simply filling out the digital form will maybe bring you closer to a small break. Without overthinking it, you nodded, typed in your details, and submitted your entry.

Not even sure, when that happens, you blink a couple of times while checking your email. You can hardly believe your eyes. You won, you actually won that stupid getaway for two! The excitement bubbles up in you like champagne, because you never win anything. You can already imagine the fresh air, the rolling hills, the luxury of it all. You want to scream. You do a little dance in your living room. This is how it should be. Without thinking twice, you call Tera to share the news. After a few rings, she picks up.

"Hey, my favorite person!" she say cheerful like always.

"Tera, guess what?" you ask enthusiastic, you don't wait for her to answer "I won a trip for two to a vineyard! Wanna go on a girls' trip?"

"Say what?! Really? That's amazing!"

"I know! I'm really excited." you explain to Tera briefly what kind of trip it is. “Oh, we could have a lot of fun. Are you in?”

"Oh, I would love to, but… isn’t this kind of trip for couples?" You freeze, your smile faltering.

"Couple? Let me check..."

A shadow of doubt creeps in, heavy and unwelcome. Frowning, you swipe back to the email announcing your prize, it took you a moment to go trough the conditions. Your stomach tightening as your eyes land on the fine print: Only couples allowed. Your mind races, a mix of disappointment and worry swirling inside you. You stare at the screen, torn between laughing at the absurdity and groaning at your oversight.

"What should I do?" you ask, feeling a little lost.

"We could just say we’re a couple" says Tera laughing a bit.

You lean back against the couch, chewing on the idea. Pretending wouldn’t be that hard, would it? It’s not like the vineyard is going to demand proof of your relationship. Still, the idea feels... complicated. Then Tera continues with a playful tone.

"Or..." she teases, "...you could ask Mr. Skye to go with you? He has a crush on you. Maybe this is the perfect chance to level up your relationship with him."

The thought alone makes your cheeks heat up. Sylus? Taking him with you? Your heart flutters. It wouldn't be the first time with him on a trip but... on a exclusive couple trip? You remember the time you were with him in that castle, telling you that weird story to help you fall asleep, but you strangely ended up being bitten by him on the neck. Your cheeks are starting to burn, the feeling of his teeth on your skin was intense. You put a hand on your neck, it feels like it was yesterday.

“Are you there?” You shake you head, trying to come back to the conversation.

“Really? Are you serious?” feeling a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

“Why not? He’s hot, you’re hot, and it’s a romantic vineyard trip. It practically screams opportunity!” Her words make you feel more nervous and you go silent again. She only wants to ship you with him. Her personal real time K-drama. "I think you should ask him,” she presses, a bit insistently. “It could be fun. Worst case? You survive the trip. Best case? You come back as a couple. Just saying"

“Tera...” you sigh. “I don't like him—"

“Bullshit!” she cuts you off, her voice cheerful and confident. “You have a thing for him, admit it! Be happy with him. You know what? I’m not going with you.” She laughs. “Ask him and have fun! And call me for the little dirty details. Byee”

“Wait! Tera?!” And with that, the call is over, leaving you staring at your phone.

You groan. The room feels too quiet, too charged with the sudden possibility. Sylus—always confident, always composed—would undoubtedly say yes. You could already imagine his reaction: that cocky tilt of his head, his dark eyes narrowing with amusement. You bite your lip. Tera is right, he is hot. Terribly hot.

You glaze on your phone, fingers hovering over the screen. Should I, shouldn't I text him? Your heart is racing. How could you wrap this up to make it less... weird? The last time you came up with a plan, it wasn’t that difficult, was it? The couple photo shoot... well, OTTO was very insistent that you take part in it. In the end, it was fun... and you had a kind of romantic moment with Sylus. Maybe you can see this as a payback of all the time he help you with stuff.

But why Sylus? You could just ask the other friend you have, right? You go through the scenario in your head, imagining how it might go if you asked Zayne, Xavier or Rafayel. I mean, the boys are cool, but bringing your co-worker/neighbour could be very relaxing. Xavier wouldn’t be interested in the wine, but he’d enjoy the fresh mountain air. Zayne... you sighed. He was always too busy to go anywhere. Rafayel could be fun, but the idea of playing bodyguard while travelling didn’t appeal to you. You're starting to feel sleepy from all this thinking, and feel like to take a nap is the right solution to not deal with this. It's early in the morning. Or should you maybe have a coffee and go for a run. You sigh. This can be so complicated.

After what feels like an eternity of hesitation, you finally decide to at least ask Sylus first. Just as you gather the courage to type something, your phone buzzes. A call from him.

“What are you doing?” he says without even saying hello.

“Working” you lie.

“You sound tired, kitten.” he says, a hint of concern threading through his voice. „I thought you were going to take a break after all that missions”

You feel the warmth in his ton, it make you feel... good. “I'm planning too.” Thinking how to bring up the trip. “I just need to finish a few things.”

There’s a pause before he speaks again, the softness of his words taking you by surprise. “If you ever feel overwhelmed, you're always welcome at my place”. You smile like an idiot without notices it. If Tera were there she would have teased you about that.

“I will...” you try to compose yourself. “Why are you calling me now? Isn't this you bed time hour?

He laugh softly, a sound that always seems to melt your heart if you're not careful “I like to hear your voice before I go to bed. That's way I call”.

“I see...” you murmur.

“What are you planning to do?”

“Well...” you hesitate, the words feeling awkward in your throat. “I won this trip for two to a vineyard. I was talking to Tera, she doesn't have the time to come with me. And I... I know it’s a couple’s thing, but I would be a shame—”.

“Go to the point, kitten” he interrupts with a laugh.

“I wanted to ask you, if...” you close you eyes, as if that would save you the embarrassment in case he says no. “...you could come with me? I owe you for few things.”

There’s a moment of silence before he answers, his voice calm, yet with an undertone of amusement. “Sure, I’ll go. Wouldn’t want you to miss out.“ The relief washes over you, but there’s a strange flutter in your chest too. You try to ignore it. “Send me the details.”

“Alright. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, kitten.”

...

When you finally arrive with him at the vineyard, the atmosphere is perfect. The air is crisp, the vineyards stretch out beneath a sky painted in soft pastels, and the scent of fresh earth and ripe grapes lingers. The estate’s stone pathways crunch softly beneath your feet as you make your way to the guest rooms.

The room is picturesque and charming, with rustic wooden beams and a window overlooking the sprawling vineyard. But your eyes are drawn immediately to the bed. One bed. A king-sized one, with crisp white sheets and pillows that seem to mock you with their perfect arrangement. Your heart skips a beat at the sight, the reality of it sinking in. Calm down! You have slept with him in one bed, more then you want to count.

Sylus steps inside behind you, he sets your and his bag down, his usual confidence radiating from him like a second skin.

“Looks cozy” he says, his voice smooth, his smirk just shy of teasing.

You manage a laugh, though it comes out shaky. “Cozy is one way to put it.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning against the wall with an ease that makes your stomach flip. “You nervous already? We haven’t even opened the wine yet.”

You roll your eyes, desperate to mask the heat creeping up your neck. “As if. Just… surprised, that’s all.” He chuckles, the sound low and velvety, sending a shiver through you.

“Surprised, huh?” Then, with a playful tilt of his head. “Relax, my love” You get goosebumps hearing him say those words. The pet name drips with mockery, but the way he says it makes your breath hitch.

“You don´t have to call me that”

“Why not? This is a couples trip, doesn't it?” His smile is maddeningly confident, his tone bordering on a challenge. You let out a long sigh, trying to steady the flustered mess inside you.

“You’re really leaning into this, aren’t you?”

He straightens, stepping closer—too close. His voice drops just enough to make your pulse quicken. “We want to make it convincing. Or do you have a better plan?”

It’s not the first time you’ve had to pretend to be couple or lover, or whatever, but somehow, this feels different. You’re not on a mission with him, not playing a part for someone else's benefit. This is personal—too personal.

Sylus strides over to the bed, his movements deliberate. He sits down with the kind of ease that suggests he owns the space, leaning back on one arm as if the room was made for him. You perch on the edge of the bed, trying to relax, but every part of you is hyper-aware of his presence—the faint spice of his cologne, the quiet rustle of his shirt as he shifts, the heat radiating from him even at a distance.

“No, I don't.” you say annoyed “I... just hope we can enjoy this.” Your words trail off as you glance out the window, desperate for a distraction. It’s definitely a super romantic place, the kind of setting you’d see in a movie. You cling to the view, hoping its beauty will steady your swirling thoughts.

Sylus looks over at you, a faint smirk on his lips.

"I’m sure it’ll be enjoyable, either way. We’re in the right place for it" he says, his voice low and confident, as if he already knows how the weekend will unfold. You swallow hard, forcing a smile.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, his smirk deepening. “I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself.”

You turn your gaze back to the vineyard, trying to steady your racing thoughts. This is just a weekend, you remind yourself. It’s just Sylus.

...

The agenda for the day is simple—nothing too complicated. Just a tour of the property, along with the other couple staying at the vineyard. Then, a wine tasting session to enjoy the local flavours, followed by a leisurely dinner under the stars. Afterwards, you’re meant to relax, enjoy the evening, and retire to bed. Easy, right?

But despite how simple it sounds. As you make your way through the vineyard with Sylus by your side, everything feels heightened, even the sound of your footsteps crunching on the gravel path. The soft laughter of the other couple fills the background, but it feels distant. In your distraction, you trip slightly over your feet. Why are you even wearing heals? You catch yourself, but before you can fully regain balance, Sylus is there—his hand firm on your arm, pulling you closer. He steadies you effortlessly, his proximity sending a rush of warmth through you.

“Give me your hand,” he murmurs, his voice low, smooth. You blink, still a little off-balance, and look up at him, confused “What?” He smirks, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You surely don’t want to break you ankle or ruin your dress, do you?” His words are wrapped in a teasing edge. You eye him suspiciously, your pulse racing.

“Besides,” he continues in a soft whisper, his breath warm against your ear, “that’s what couples do. Care for each other.”

The heat of his hand in yours makes your heart race, his touch unexpectedly gentle, sending a shiver down your spine. You try to focus, try to shake off the unexpected flutter in your chest. But his proximity, his warmth, makes it hard to think clearly. Maybe…

The tour guide’s voice weaves through the warm air, narrating the history of the vineyard with practiced ease. But you barely register the words.

The wine tasting that follows feels like an eternity. Each sip is a kaleidoscope of flavours, yet none hold your focus for long. The richness of the reds, the crispness of the whites—they all blur together as you try to ground yourself, but it’s impossible with Sylus nearby. His gaze lingers too long, his teasing comments too precise, cutting through your resolve with the ease of a knife through silk.

“Not bad,” he says, his voice low and smooth as he swirls the wine in his glass. His dark eyes glint with amusement. “But I’ve tasted better.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to play it cool. “Oh, I didn’t realice you were such a wine connoisseur.”

He leans in slightly, his tone dropping just enough to make your breath catch. “I have a talent for recognising quality.”

A smile tugs at your lips, genuine this time. You can't help it. Each exchange feels like a dance, his confidence pressing against your composure in a way that leaves you breathless. Actually, you want to bite back with some sharp words, but there it is. That soft smile, the same one he had after the boxing match, under the falling snow... Your lips part, but instead of speaking, you just look back at him. Everything seems to slow down. Is the wine affecting you? For a heartbeat, neither of you speaks. For a fleeting second, you wonder if he feels it too. You eyes darts on this lips, how would they taste?

And then, just before the moment slips away, he does something unexpected. He sets his glass down, his movements fluid, and without breaking eye contact, he reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch is light, but it lingers just long enough to make your skin tingle.

Before you can even process it, a soft tap on your shoulder pulls you from the moment. Two women approach, giggling like schoolgirls, their eyes sparkling with mischief.

They interrupt the bubble you’ve found yourself in, and the weight of Sylus’s touch vanishes as if it was never there. But the heat in your chest lingers, a faint trace of the connection that just passed between you.

“Excuse me” one of them says, her voice light and playful as she glances between you and Sylus. The other nudges her, stifling a giggle, and you can already feel the familiar mix of curiosity and dread bubbling up.

“We couldn’t help but notice” the first woman continues, her smile widening, “you two are just the cutest couple. You’ve got this… spark. It’s like you stepped out of a romance novel!”

You blink, caught off guard, the glass of wine freezing halfway to your lips. A flush rises to your cheeks, and you can feel Sylus shift beside you, his presence suddenly more commanding.

“Oh, really?” he says smoothly, his tone carrying that trademark confidence. He slides an arm casually around your waist, pulling you just close enough to make your pulse quicken. “Well, I’m glad we’re keeping the vineyard’s reputation for romance alive.

His words, so effortlessly delivered, make the women swoon audibly. “The way you two look at each other—it’s just magical!”

You force a laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as strained as it feels. “Thanks” you manage, your voice tight as Sylus’s hand lingers on your hip, warm and steady.

“Are you two married?”

“No” you say quickly, your voice a little too sharp, too defensive.

Sylus, however, doesn’t miss a beat. He looks at you, then smiles smoothly at the women. “No but...” he says as he looks back at you. “Our soul are already bound, so is better then marriage.”

The women gasp, eyes widening in surprise. “Such a poetic man...” the first woman exclaims. “You two are perfect together!”

You blink, momentarily stunned, unsure of how to react. Sylus doesn’t seem at all phased by the lie, his calm demeanor making it feel like a perfectly natural thing to say.

“Thanks” he says, his voice smooth as silk. “We’re very happy.”

You smile politely, trying to shake off the warmth creeping up your neck. The words linger in your mind as you finish your wine, but you can’t help but feel a little more self-conscious now. They really think you’re with him. You can’t help but wonder if the lines between roll playing and reality are already starting to blur.

The women chat a little longer, their compliments spilling over like the wine in their glasses. Finally, they flit away, their laughter trailing behind them as they disappear into the crowd.

You exhale sharply, stepping out of Sylus’s hold and turning to him with narrowed eyes. “Really? Our soul are bound? Better then marriage?”

He grins, unfazed, leaning closer until his voice drops low enough that only you can hear. “What?” His gaze locks onto yours, his smirk softening into something almost tender. “Saying the true is sometime easier then coming up with some lie, sweetie”

Maybe he’s enjoying this a little too much. But if he’s enjoying it, why don’t you enjoy it too? You think to yourself, a strange thought whispering at the back of your mind. Even if it’s just for this trip, just for the moment.

The wine has already begun to work its magic, loosening your inhibitions and making everything feel just a little more carefree. Before you can fully think it through, you find yourself clinging to Sylus’s arm, your fingers lightly gripping the sleeve of his jacket. The warmth of his presence settles against you, his steady pulse beneath your touch a reminder of just how close he is. You feel the tension in your chest ease, replaced by something else, something much more complicated.

Sylus’s smile stretches wide as he looks down at you, the corner of his lips curling in that smug, almost predatory way he always does when he knows he’s got your attention.

The quiet hum of the evening settles back in. It’s as if a small door has been opened, and you’re not entirely sure what’s on the other side, but for now, you’re curious enough to stay a little longer.

Sylus doesn’t move, his arm still locked with yours, and when he finally speaks, his voice is low and teasing. “Enjoying yourself so far, sweetheart?”

You glance up at him, maybe... just maybe... it won’t be as simple as you expected.

…

Dinner arrives just as the sun dips below the horizon, casting the sky in soft, dusky hues. The air feels cooler now, but the warmth of the intimate atmosphere wraps around you, drawing you closer to the cozy setting. The flickering candlelight dances across the stone walls, casting playful shadows that seem to shift with every movement. It’s romantic, the kind of dinner scene you only see in movies, and for a moment, it feels like you’re part of a story you’re not sure you want to end.

Sylus is seated next to you, his tall frame glowing softly in the dim light. He’s quieter than usual, but his presence is undeniable. Every now and then, his eyes flicker to yours, and there’s something in the way he looks at you that makes you want to jump from your chair and lose yourself in him right there.

During the dinner, you find yourself addressing him a few times as “my love” or “honey”, while taking in the large group at the table. The words slip from your lips without thinking, and each time they do, a little thrill runs through you. You’re playing the part, but in some strange way, you realize you’re not pretending anymore. You’re enjoying it, living it.

You let your fingers brushed against his hand, and before you know, you’re subtly holding his hand beneath the table. The simple touch sends warmth up your arm. The intimacy of the gesture, hidden from the others, feels like a secret shared between just the two of you. You pass him food, feeding each other bites of your meals, exchanging tastes like lovers. Each touch, each glance, each shared moment feels more natural than it should.

You’re lost in the closeness, in the warmth of the evening, in the role you’re playing so effortlessly. It feels easy, too easy, to slip into this new dynamic with him. And for the first time since you arrived, you stop questioning it. For tonight, you’re his beloved. And maybe, just maybe, you can stay like this forever.

The evening winds down, and you’re a bit tipsy, your cheeks flushed with a soft pink. You decide to step outside for some fresh air, leaving Sylus talking to the owner of the vineyard. The nice warm sun is long gone, and the coldness of the mountains is a refreshing contrast to it. The vineyard stretches out before you, bathed in moonlight, and the quiet of the night feels peaceful. You feet are hurting, you've been walking with high heels all day.

You take a deep breath, feeling good, light, and free. For the first time in a while, you realize something you hadn’t fully allowed yourself to consider: You’re in love with him. There’s no denying it anymore. It’s there, right at the center of your heart, a truth you can’t shake. The way he looks at you, touches you—Every glance, every subtle move he makes, has stirred something deep inside you.

You stop for a moment, letting the breeze tousle your hair, and close your eyes. You’re here. You’re alive. And for this moment, you’re letting yourself feel what you feel, without worrying about what comes next. There’s something beautiful in the simplicity of it, in allowing yourself to just be in love with him. Tonight, you are free to love him, even if you don’t know what tomorrow will bring.

As you walk over the veranda, along wooden floor, you heels clicking, feeling the silence around you, lost in your thoughts, you hear his voice cut through the stillness.

"My beautiful beloved, where are you going?" Sylus’s voice is smooth, playful.

You turn around and give him the most sincere smile you've ever shown him. If someone else had seen the look on your face at that moment, they might have thought you'd given him your whole heart in that single expression. And if someone had told you what Sylus felt when he saw you smile like that, you might not have believed them.

You’re startled to find him so close, just a few steps behind you, his figure illuminated by the silvery glow of the moonlight. His eyes are fixed on you, that familiar, confident smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your heart race. "Just needed a moment," you reply softly.

He steps closer, his presence magnetic, his gaze never leaving yours. "I see."

The heat of the wine bubbles up in your chest, but it’s the way he stands there, close, that makes the moment feel heavier than it should. He watches you as if he’s trying to decode something, a quiet challenge in his eyes. Then, without another word, he removes his jacket, the fabric brushing against your arms as he drapes it over your shoulders.

“Thank you” you say a bit shy.

“No need.”

The silence stretches between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s glaring at you. You step closer to the railing, perching on it with half your body leaning out, the cool breeze brushing against your skin. Your mind drifts, flitting from thought to thought, nowhere in particular yet everywhere all at once. You’re enjoying it more than you expected. You hate to admit it, but Tera was right. You’ll need to thank her for pushing you to this.

“You’re staring” you say softly, trying to sound playful but failing to hide the nervous edge in your voice.

“Am I?” he counters smoothly, the smirk growing as he tilts his head slightly. “Maybe I just like what I see.” Your cheeks flush, but you don't look at him. Your eyes are still locked on the scenery.

“Mm-hmm” you hum.

“You’re quiet.” He remarks after a moment, his voice softer now, almost contemplative. “Something on your mind?”

You take a steadying breath, eyes still on the horizon. “Just... enjoying the view.”

He chuckles low. “Good to know I’m not the only one. Though, as beautiful as this is, we should head back—I’ve got something prepared for us.”

You tilt your head in curiosity, trying to read his expression, but before you can ask he gently takes you hand. You suppress a sigh as he guide you to stand up from the railing. You follow him, but the moment your feet hit the ground, the discomfort you’d been ignoring flares up. The cooling evening air has made the snug fit of your pretty shoes unbearable. You let out a soft whine as you take a couple of steps, causing Sylus to stop immediately. He turns, his brows furrowing with concern.

“What wrong?” You shake your head quickly, not wanting to make a fuss.

“It’s nothing... just my feet hurt a little”.

His gaze drops to your shoes, assessing the situation in an instant. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Sylus lets out a sigh, but the corner of his mouth quirks up in a half-smile. “You’re hopeless sometimes, kitten.” Without another word, he scans the area, his gaze landing on a nearby chair on the veranda. He strides over to it, picks it up, and places it gently in front of you.

“Sit” he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. You do as he said then he kneels in front of you.

“What are you—?” you start to protest, but he cuts you off with a knowing look.

“Taking them off. Lift your leg.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the intimacy of the moment not lost on you. You hesitate for a moment, but his steady gaze convinces you, and you lift your leg. The touch of his fingers on your ankle is electrifying. The dress you're wearing is riding up a bit. Concerned that he might catch a glimpse under the skirt, you discreetly try to lower it. Sylus doesn’t seem to notice or care, his focus entirely on your feet as he gently works to ease the discomfort you’re feeling. Still, you’re glad you're wearing cute panties, just in case something... happens? A few moments later your feet have been released from their prison, you feel relieved.

“This feels better, thanks” you say softly.

“Look at that, a second thanks I get today” he chuckles. Sylus stands up a little and leans over you. He's too close. "Hold on tight."

You feel his hands slide under your thighs and the other hand behind your back. In an instant, you find yourself lifted into his arms. You curl up instinctively, wrapping your arms around his neck, your body seeking the warmth and security he offers. His eyes flicker to your shoes, the red and black mist picks them up, placing them in one of his hand, not breaking stride as he carries you effortlessly.

“Put me down, Sylus” you say, a hint of laughter in your voice despite the situation.

“Do you want to walk barefoot?” he replies, his tone teasing but unwavering as he holds you close, his grip firm and steady. “Stay still, fussy kitten.”

With a pout you stop squirming in his arms, the smell of his perfume mixed with wine is incredible. You feel almost drunk, not from the wine itself but from the sweet and earthy mix that fills your senses, an alluring combination that invades your nose and makes your head spin just a little. You want to bit his neck.

He walks with you in his arms through the mansion, past couples lingering in the dining room. You catch a few glances from them, including the two women from earlier, who sigh at such an adorable image. A sense of pride swells inside you, and you feel almost lucky, as if you’re the center of attention in the best way possible. As you continue down the hallway toward your room, you look up, and your eyes meet his. That look again. Soft and tender.

As the door opens, you blink in surprise. The room is lit by soft candlelight and the chimney, the air sweet with the scent of fresh flowers, and a bottle of wine chilling in ice sits on the table. It feels like something straight out of a romance movie.

"Sylus, you don’t need to pretend in here" you say low, the question hanging in the air.

He meets your gaze, unfazed. "I’m not pretending." his tone very calm. You raise an eyebrow. He gently lowers you onto the bed, his hands steady and careful. He places your shoes on the floor beside the bed.

"Were you pretending before, being touchy and calling me pet names?" His question hits you like a spark.

You blush, stumbling over your words. "I..."

"It’s alright," he cuts in. “Lay down if you tried. It has been a long day” he look down, while unbuttoning his shirt, revealing the sculpted muscles of his chest. The sight is fascinating and you can’t help but feel the absurd urge to lick every inch.

“I'm not” you feel your restraint cracking inside you, the longing for him is taking over.

“If you don't want to lie down” he continues, his voice smooth but with a hint of challenge “we can make the most of our time before dawn.” He step back, turning to the sofa for a moment. “Do you want some wine?”

This feels insane. You feel insane, but how long can you hold back? Isn’t this the perfect setup—wine, candlelight, fresh flowers, and a whole weekend for two? It’s a scene straight out of a dream. You stand up from the bed, your bare feet soft against the floor. Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, desire surging within you, irresistible and raw. You walk toward him, feeling both bold and vulnerable, wanting something more.

“Forget the wine” you say, almost offended by the suggestion. Without the heels, you feel smaller in front of him, but the fire inside you pushes that discomfort aside. You place one hand on his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingers.

Sylus looks down at your hand, his gaze flickering to yours with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “I thought you were done with touching” he teases. You don’t answer, your pulse quickening. Damn him, it feels so good. Your fingers trace the opening of his black shirt, and you notice the slight change in his breathing. It’s subtle at first, but you can feel it—the way his chest rises and falls more sharply.

Sylus takes a slow, deliberate breath, his eyes locking with yours. You can tell he's holding back, but just barely. You smile, a little smug, pushing him down onto the sofa. He falls with a loud thud, but before he can settle, you quickly sit on his lap, both legs draped at his sides. Your dress shifts up with the movement, but this time, it doesn’t matter. You want to provoke him more than ever. Your hand returns to his chest, tracing irregular lines with your finger, the soft skin beneath your touch sending a pang of pleasure through your body. You can’t stop yourself from drawing closer, feeling the magnetism between you pull tighter with each passing second. He watches you intently, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You feel alive, every nerve on edge.

Your eyes flicker between his chest, his lips, and his eyes—his smoldering, unreadable eyes. You want to kiss him. The desire to feel his lips on yours is overwhelming, and you can’t fight it any longer.

Without thinking, you place your hand on his neck, your fingers trailing up to his cheek, the warmth of his skin... why did you take so long to get closer to him? At this point, that cute black underwear you wearing is wet, soak even. The heat between your thighs almost unbearable. Does he know what you want to do next? His playful, almost knowing look in his eyes would definitely say yes. You feel his control slipping, and it makes you ache for him even more.

You close the distance, moving your hand at the back of his neck, as you pull him closer. The moment your lips meet, everything else fades away. The warmth of his lips, the intensity of his touch, it's everything you've been feeling building up to this. You melt into the kiss, your body pressing closer to his, a wave of desire crashing over you. His hands move instinctively, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss, and you respond just as fiercely, your heart pounding in your chest. You pull away breathless, your chest rising and falling with each quickened breath in the silence that follows. You look into his eyes, wide with disbelief at what just happened, your mind still trying to catch up with your body. Again, again, again, please.

Sylus moves forward, his lips crashing against yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. You sigh in both pleasure and relief, feeling every inch of the tension melt away as his kiss deepens, as if it’s the only thing that matters in this moment. You feel his hand gently but firmly cup your cheek, his touch sending a shiver through you.

The kiss is fierce and consuming, his urgency matching your own as his other hand slides between your shoulder blades, pulling you against his chest. His body presses into yours, as if he can’t bear to be apart for even a moment. His tongue tangles with yours, a messy, erotic dance that sends shivers down your spine, down to your core. It’s chaotic, passionate, and you can’t help but surrender to it. All you can feel, all you can think about, is him—his warmth, his touch, the raw desire radiating from him, and the storm building between you both. You’re lost in the sensation, in the wildness of the kiss, the taste of him.

Sylus adjusts his position slightly, moving you with him as he shifts uncomfortably on the couch. He needs to be able to focus—focus on you, on your lips, on his throbbing desire in his pants that's driving him crazy. The tightness in his pants is almost unbearable. The soft material of your dress became a frustrating barrier to his touch, his hands hover over you, desperate to feel more.

„S- sylus...“ you manage to say between kisses, your voice filled with need. “Bed...“ His grip tightens around you hips. You can feel his hard dick between your legs since a while. He gives you a slow, deliberate kiss.

"Alright" he murmurs, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms. You instinctively wrap your legs around his hips, your body pressing against him as he moves swiftly toward the bed. The kiss never breaks as he places a knee on the bed, shifting you to the center, and gently lowers you onto the soft sheets. Your body tingles with the need for him, every inch of your skin alive, and the way he hovers just above you makes you feel like you're teetering on the edge of something you've both been craving since the being.

His nose brushing along the curve of you neck, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin. Then, the slow, intentional sweep of his tongue follows, sending a wave of electric shivers down your spine. You let out a soft whimper. Sylus hums against your neck.

He moves back, kneeling between your legs, and gently places one hand at the back of your thigh, moving down to lift you leg. His touch is careful, his eyes never leaving yours. Your dress moves up, covering barley your panties. He kiss you inner thigh, and move down to your knee.

Sylus's gaze darkens, and a small, almost smug smile plays at the corners of his mouth. His voice is low, raw with need. "I can't hold back anymore." He pauses, lips brushing lightly over your knee before pulling back slightly, meeting your eyes again. "You haven't changed your mind, have you?"

“No, but...”you pause, unsure where the insecurity is coming from. Sylus lifts an eyebrow, sensing the shift.

“Speak, my love” You sit up slightly, reaching for his face, your fingers gently tracing the spot where you had cut him the first time you met. Sylus gasps at your touch, the surprise in his reaction softening your own doubts.

“Am I being too greedy... if I ask you to keep your eyes only on me? He takes your hand, his grip firm yet tender.

“You always had that right.” He presses a soft kiss to your wrist. "Which means... you can be even greedier. Do you want it, kitten?"

“No” you smile, the tension easing slightly. “As long as you look at me, I don’t need it.”

He leans in slowly “Good“ his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss, first teasing with a slow lick before diving deeper, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hungry urgency. You fall back on the bed with him, he assaults your neck, with bites marking your skin as he has always wanted. His breath near your ear is driving you wild.

You gasp against him, your hands gripping his shoulder as you pull him closer. You find yourself not wanting to stop, not wanting to break away. The overwhelming sensation burns like fire. You elevate you hips to met his. Why is he taking so long?

"Looks like we're on the same page when it comes to not waste time." Sylus caress you cheek. You pout, turning your head away to avoid his gaze, but he’s quicker. He tilts your chin back toward him with a gentle but firm touch. "Stay focused, kitten" he murmurs playful.

Before you can respond, he moves his hand to cover your eyes "Don't look" he begins to kiss you again, his breath coming out in sharp gaps. What does he mean? You want to see him—to witness his composure faltering, to know you’re the one making him feel this way.

Sylus seems to savour the moment, his quiet sounds of pleasure against your lips filling the air like a melody only the two of you can hear. To you, it’s music—raw, intoxicating, and divine—a symphony of the gods, stirring a desire so pure and all-consuming it leaves you breathless. The weight of his body presses against yours, his movements slow as he grinds against you. The pressures of his hardness between your legs.

His long fingers trail down your arm, stopping at your wrist before moving to your palm. He laces his fingers with yours, squeezing hard, grounding you in the intensity of the moment. You melt to his touch. A soft whimper escapes your lips, and he chuckles faintly, the sound vibrating against your skin. The heat coursing through your body is dizzying, your thoughts hazy as the fabric of your fucking clothing feels increasingly stifling, an annoying barrier to his touch.

“You're not allowed to stop me until I'm finished.” he whisper, you nod. You starting to get desperate. You pull at his shirt with your other hand. Sylus smirks as he lets you remove his shirt a bit clumsy. The shirt falls finally to the floor in a careless heap, forgotten. His hands move to your thigh, slipping beneath the fabric of your dress. His fingers pressing into your skin as if staking a claim.

Sylus shifts slightly as his lips trail a path down your jaw. His other hands move with purpose, finding the hidden zipper of your dress on your back. You lean into him, your hands getting behind the waistband of his pants. Sylus smirks at your impatience, his fingers pausing briefly. The sound of it lowering fills the quiet space, mingling with the soft hum of your unsteady breaths. The fabric loosens, slipping off your shoulders.

Your hands moving to his belt, fumbling slightly as your nerves spark with adrenaline. He catches your wrist, stilling you for a moment. “You're truthly restless” he says with a teasing smirk, leaning down to kiss you again, as if savouring every second. He moves slightly to help you lift your dress over your head, the soft fabric slipping away easily and pooling on the floor beside his discarded shirt. You’re glad now that you picked out your favourite set—black with little red details you thought he might notice. From the way his eyes linger on you, it’s clear he does.

Your hands slide back to his waist. You glance up at him, and he gives you a small nod, his smirk never fading. Slowly, you undo the button and tug the fabric down over his hips. Sylus moves just enough to help you, kicking them off before settling back against you. Black boxer. Sexy. You bite your lips when your eyes fall on the the bulge you've been wanting to see for so long. Is pressing hard against the fabric, you can see the size and then the wet stain off precum, you swallow.

Even is Sylus love to see you in you beautiful set, and would love to contemplate you more. His cock is starting to hurt, and your lascivious gaze on his good piece isn't making it any better. He puts his hand on your back again, without realising it your breasts are exposed. The bra...it doesn't matter.

He exhales loudly, he can't remember how many times he's wanted to undress you since he met you. His beloved, his heart, his curse, his everything. Make you his. Bite, lick, kiss, sweating together, feeling your pussy wet around his cock. Hearing his name while coming because of him. His mind races, each thought more urgent than the last. This is it. Finally. You’ve said yes, you’ve chosen him. You love him back, and it's everything he’s ever dreamed of. That thought ignites his desire even more, the last bit of restraint crumbling away in his mind.

His body presses against yours with a new intensity, and he can barely think past the feeling of you beneath him, in his arms.

His tongue licking over your nipple before enclosing his mouth around your breast. You whine softly, his heat radiating off you. One hand come over to your other nipple. His finger brush softly over it before squeezing it. You arch your back and whine again. The feeling of both nipple begin stimulated is making your pussy pulse in anticipation. You want him inside, now, fuck the foreplay. You're wet enough to take him in.

“Sy...” you want to say tell him, but bites down making you gasp, trailing off. You could come in any moment, you started to moan. Finally he lets one nipple free.

“So ready...” he whispers, fingers reaching your panties drenched. Sylus coos, his thumb pressing against your clothed clit to rub firm circles into the throbbing bud. You glare at him. His finger slipping beneath the fabric. Playing around you entrance, then one finger finds your warmth, you gasp loud at the sensation. At this point, your body is burning with need, every nerve begging for him. The motion of his finger, trying to find you sweet spot is driving you inside. You move you hips against his hand, trying to get more contact. He only laugh and lick again over you nipple.

A second finger is added, stretching you, you moan harder. His finger curls inside you and then...

“Sylus” you whimper, he hit you g-spot. A sharp wave of pleasure courses trough you again.

“That's it” he kiss you with hunger, while thrusting his finger inside you. You hold on his shoulder, opening wider you legs to give him more access. You don´t want to come, no yet, but if he continues like this. Sylus feels you tightness around his finger. Like he said, you not allowed to stop him. You moan and whine against his lips.

“I'm close...“ your words are a pleading gasp, your body trembling as you teeter on the edge. He smirks, his pace unwavering.

“Don't hold back“ he growls, low and commanding. You feel the pressure building inside you, the tension prolong. You can barely breathe. His kisses paired with the feeling of his other hand on your hard nipple with the frenetic rhythm of the finger is way to much.

“Sy..” you voice breaks as the tension snaps and you come uncontrollably. You body shaking in waves of pleasure. Sylus's finger still inside dragging out the last bit of release. When your breathing begins to steady, he withdraws them. His face is buried in you neck, his breath hot on your skin.

“I want to hear more of that.” Before you can even think of a reply, Sylus removes you panties and then his boxers. You gasp when you see his cock standing hard, long and thick. You bite you lips and you swallow nervously at the sight. Sylus stroke his cock his eyes not leaving yours. “Is time for the main course.”

He positions himself between your legs again, running his fingers over your entrance again before placing his cock. You moan as he thrusts his cock between your folds, slowly. He is so big. Your eyes flutter close, taking all the sensation in. Is overwhelming. Sylus gasp too when his cock is half way inside.

„Breath for me“ Sylus whispers, his breathing is growing heavier by the second, forcing himself to hold back from just thrusting his cock into you too hard. You try to relax your walls, you breathe out.

"Take it slowly, kitten", his voice slow and deep in your ears. He's trying to pace his breathing as well, but it feels so fucking good. His thumb stroke your cheek, and place a soft kiss on your lips. He started to move, softly to adjust in the new sensations, of being inside of you. For the first time in lifetimes. Sylus breath is uneven, hips rocking into you. Nails clawing down his back as you try to steady yourself, his face against your neck, growling, no, moaning lowly. Harder.

“Sy..Sylus” you moan. “More...”

“Sure about that?” You nod desperately. He shifts and his cock hits you deeper, setting fireworks on in your brain while you moan so loud, that you swear the other in the dinning room could have hear you.

“Right... there.” Sylus smiles, capturing your lips once more in a hungry, passionate and deep kiss. Your tongues play, licking each other. The desire you feel is far beyond what you've ever felt with anyone. You feel like you could devour him, a violent thought that might even make you want to shoot him again. Tear out his heart of his chest. You discard the violent idea of hurting him.

You hug him closer with you legs, his cock slamming in a delicious rhythm. The lascivious sound that emanates through the silence of the room, the rustle of the sheet under your skin, the slight creaking of the bed as Sylus thrust his cock inside you, a symphony that you wish would not stop.

Each movement, each shift of his body against yours, sends a wave of heat through him, making it harder to stay composed. His muscles tighten with every gasp and every whimper that comes from you. Your fingers pulling at his silver hair, it's like adding fuel to the fire. And when you react, when you respond to him, it sends a surge of satisfaction and longing that almost overwhelms him. Sylus knows he’s on the edge, his cock twitch inside you, becoming even harder.

“Sy- Sylus,” you moan, pulling his head up to kiss him. He returns the kiss just as hungrily as you are. “Gonna cum...ah, pl..please”

“Come- come for me” he says brokenly. He pushing his thumb into your mouth. You suck obediently, eyes closed to feel the comfort of his skin, losing yourself in it. Sylus groans. You squeeze him. You feel the orgasm bubbling inside you, the tension before the sweet fall. You want to hold on to it. “Come with me...” You open your eyes. What did he said? You meet his glowing red eyes. He pick up the pace, intensity growing inside him. Hammering into you g-spot at every thrust. You hold onto him and the sheets even tighter. A little more, just a little more.

“Can I...?” he started, driving into your harder, near to explode in any second.

“Yes... please...” you nod eagerly. “I...” As if you had uncorked a shaken bottle of champagne, the orgasm reaches you in a bliss. Your body shakes and trembles. A few seconds later, Sylus follows you with a long growl, pressing his lips against yours, sharing that sweetly overwhelming moment. His hot cum spreads inside you, Sylus doesn't stop, he continues to move inside of you slowly. His lips pull away and he leans his forehead against yours,

When you open your eyes, the adoration in your stare was so palpable. He intertwining his fingers with yours, guiding your hand towards him, leaving a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

You two stay silent, breathing still ragged and coming out in bursts. For some reason, you still feel heat, desire in your body. It hasn't been enough. You want more. As if he could read your mind, Sylus smiled.

“We can do this as long as you like, kitten,” he says, his voice a gentle, warm promise. His eyes sparkle with amusement as he kisses your cheek. You smile at his words.

The night stretches on, the two of you lost in each other, pausing only briefly to share sips of the forgotten wine on the table. One by one, the candles burn out and with that a new day begins.

Your mind drifts, basking in the warmth of the memories from the passionate night. For a moment, you forget that you never told him how you truly feel—but that’s alright. There’s time, you remind yourself with a small, hopeful smile. This is just the beginning, and you know deep down that there are countless moments ahead to share your heart with him.

Exhausted but content, you fall into a peaceful sleep in Sylus’s arms. He stays awake a little longer, watching you with a soft, almost reverent gaze, his heart full. Only when the first light of morning filters into the room does he finally close his eyes, holding you close as sleep overtakes him.

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a-cloud-for-dreams · 17 hours ago

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CUPID&APPLE HCs DROPPED LET'S GOOOOOOO!!! forgive me as I go and comment on every part of this (most of it incoherent jibber-jabber or squeals)

When Love Changes the Script sounds like it could be an actual episode title you ATE that up

(but never her own self, it seems) I JUST STARTED WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME CRY RN?!?!?!? the cruel irony of the personified version of love never being able to find love for herself is so😔

"This time .... she can see it in her eyes." me losing it when couples can tell how the other is feeling by merely looking into their eyes AAAAAAAAAH

"but there’s something fragile in the way she holds herself with her smile not quite reaching the depth and height of her eyes." stop you captured Apple's character so well here this is LITERALLY APPLECORE!! always masking her true self to appear beautiful, happy, free of flaws, perfect because that's who Snow White is, right?

"her mother doesn't get to control this" and she's literally looking at love incarnate LIKE???

oh hell yeah recap one of the greatest EAH moments ever as you should!! "The scene still lingered in everyone’s minds, even if they tried to hide it" exactly

"After all, if Apple starts doubting herself and her story, then the earth might as well swallow them all!" oh I LOVE this trope the whole "unwavering confident character finds their confidence wavered"

"As if the hues in her iris can reach to the lines under Cupid’s eyes, as if she’s still scared to speak up and hopes Cupid understands her silence. All her life, she knew that a prince would be by her side. That is what she prepared for. She laid it all out, like pieces of a puzzle she already could hold in her hands. And now the pieces were stubborn, refusing to claim their place. They didn’t fit in anymore. She didn’t fit in either" this is just...I have no words I'm SPEECHLESS you captured Apple's inner conflict so well here. How is THE Apple White supposed to live the rest of her life now knowing that everything she's been preparing for was for someone she wasn't???

"Was this truly the life I’ve been waiting for, or have I been waiting for a version of it that never existed" oh Apple....🥺🥺😭😭

"She can pretend it’s just another lesson she needs to master!" APPLE NO DENIAL IS A RIVER IN EGYPT DON'T DO THIS TO YOURSELF!!! Imagine her on her deathbed and her last thoughts are sullied with regret for a life she could have lived. Maybe Raven wasn't so wrong after all...

"So she asks questions — SO many questions — that Cupid almost doesn’t know where to begin" THIS IS SO SWEET AWWW leave it to Apple White to stump THE CA Cupid

THE METAPHOR YOU DESCRIBED WAS SO AMAZING I CAN SEE CUPID USING IT SO VIVIDLY!! God I love Cupid we all need to be friends with a Cupid in our lives

"Exactly! It doesn’t mean the key is wrong, or that the door is wrong. They aren’t a match. That’s all" 🥹🥹

"Maybe that’s why losing Briar had felt so scary, as if losing one of her limbs" oh my gosh tell me that's not how Apple felt

"If Raven was here, she'd probably chuckle. She can almost hear her voice telling her "I told you so!" HELP Raven my bi queen you get it frfr

"Cupid would be so gentle with her, her voice soft and steady, the kind of voice that wraps around you like a warm blanket on a stormy night, the kind that can help lost sailors find their way." Oh this is such a good metaphor she is literally such a comforting spirit 🥺🥺🥺 she deserves everything actually

STOP Tumblr won't let me write out the quote but the idea of Apple gradually forgetting the notebook and starting to tap into her inner self to figure out herself, love??? Now truly focusing on Cupid??? who's cutting onions

"Cupid moves closer, reaching for Apple’s hands, holding them firmly in her own" HOLDING HANDS CALLBACK

"It’s endearing, at first. Then, it’s devastating." Why can't anybody in this show be happy for once

"Cupid feels something shift in her chest. And it shouldn’t because she’s heard her laughter so many times. She could play it on a harp blindfolded. It’s a symphony that has taken over her brain. It shouldn’t, but it does" this is just *chef's kiss* there's no better way to describe it I read that whole part like 😲

WORDS AS A SACRED PRAYER TROPE I REPEAT WORDS AS A SACRED PLAYER TROPE!!

"Chariclo Arganthone Cupid has fallen in love with Apple White." gotta quickly shoutout who beautiful Cupid's full name is. Also AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

"This is Apple White, of course everyone is drawn to her!" that face card NEVER declines!!

"But ……. Cupid can lie all she wants, but love is what she was born for, and she knows it too well." oh this hurts me we ALL know how this will end

"how she would smile as if she was the happiest girl in the world, how she would reach for her hands excitedly. But none of her rehearsed responses seem to fit now that it’s real. None of them are able to escape from her lips...And as she says it, she can feel her own heart being ripped into pieces. She could swear an arrow of her own just pierced her soul...She watches Apple leave the room, taking Cupid’s heart with her." I'm going to fight someone for th-- HEY GET THAT CAMERA OUT OF MY FACE I'M NOT CRYING S-SHUT UP THE THEMATIC IRONY JUST GOT TO ME OKAY?

"And she tells herself it’s alright, it will be alright. After all, this pain isn’t foreign to her. Chariclo Arganthone Cupid was born for love, but love wasn’t raised for her." JB when I find you....

"Cupid has mastered the art of hiding her pain." girl same imfao

"And maybe, one day, someone will teach her the kind of love she’s always given to everyone else. It is not the ending she wanted, but it is hers. And she learns to hold it gently, the way she wishes someone would hold her." I hate everyone and everything why would you do this to me

TLDR: I guess I am legally obligated to make a CupidApple (RedArrow??) playlist and fanfic now

When Love Changes the Script (my eah headcanon)

or — Cupid teaches Apple that love takes many forms, and an arrow always finds its true target.

Cupid, the daughter of Eros, is known for her wisdom about all things Love. Whether it’s answering questions about complicated feelings on her podcast or guiding someone toward their happily ever after (but never her own self, it seems) or finding the best gift for Heart's Day, Cupid is the person people turn to when they don’t know where else to go! Who else could do it like her? Who else can achieve it if not her? Love is her calling and she is more than happy to help you!

And she does it all with a smile that makes you feel so welcome !! Even when love seems to play a cruel joke on her by slipping away from her own hands.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

So truly, she should not be surprised when Apple White knocks at her door, seeking help.

She is used to undoing the knots in people’s hearts, enlightening their darkened worries, but who would’ve thought that THE Apple White would come to her? And sure, she did seek her help once, but it was about Ashlynn’s relationship.

Back then, she was agitated not about her own self but for the sake of her dearest friend.

This time .... she can see it in her eyes.

She’s here for herself.

The Apple White, who has spent her entire life chasing perfection and destiny, who’s stood with a high head and fought for what she believed in, who has made so many hearts rise with envy in front of her composure, is now standing at Cupid’s doorstep, looking lost.

It almost feels surreal.

But it’s true.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

So Cupid immediately invites her in.

Thankfully, Blondie isn’t there -- away on some top secret mission to find out about the validity of some rumours she’s heard. She has to get the scoop just right, she had said while excitedly getting ready.

When Apple steps inside, she’s as pristine as always — with every strand of hair in place, locks falling down like pieces into place, her cape immaculate, a shade of red adorning her lips, her sweet perfume clinging to her skin as if it was a privilege to adorn her — but there’s something fragile in the way she holds herself with her smile not quite reaching the depth and height of her eyes.

It’s the weight of uncertainty, Cupid realizes, a weight she knows all too well.

Apple admits to her that she needs help.

Her voice is low, as if she still can't admit it to herself.

The words feel unfamiliar, almost treacherous. Her mother's voice rings in her head, but she pushes it away. Not this, Apple thinks to herself. Her mother doesn't get to control this.

Cupid recognizes it very easily. The worry in the blonde's eyes seems to travel from her face to her shaking hands. But she made the first step, and that in itself is the biggest prize she could win. (Cupid tells her that with a smile.)

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

Cupid know what it is about, of course she does. Everyone saw how Daring’s kiss didn’t wake up Apple. They had all held their breath, waiting for the sacred moment that would’ve sealed their oh-so-yearned happy ever after.

This was it, the moment Apple would get what she wanted!

And yet, everyone got first row tickets to her biggest nightmare: the moment in which their desired future shattered, like a mirror laughing back at them.

And instead of Daring, it was Darling’s lips that brought Apple back.

True Love’s kiss — what a cruel thing, deceiving everyone into believing one thing, only to unveil the truth when a sea of eyes dared to hope.

The scene still lingered in everyone’s minds, even if they tried to hide it.

Nobody wanted to question Apple, but the question was right on their tongue, threatening to spill whenever they saw her.

“What now?”,

except this time, the question was evicted from Apple’s lips.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

The thing is, Apple White isn’t the kind of person who doubts herself, not openly, not like this.

This sight felt like a joke, perhaps another one of Kitty’s pranks, an elaborate one with magic!

After all, if Apple starts doubting herself and her story, then the earth might as well swallow them all!

For as long as anyone could remember, Apple had been obsessed with her story, with her destiny, with her future role.

It is what defined her, what she had built her entire life around. Apple didn't waver; she didn't question. She planned, she prepared, she perfected, she embodied. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail — and Apple vowed to never end on that route.

She embodies royalty, she embodies perfection, she embodies her fate.

She’s everything Headmaster Grimm could ask for. If the Storybook of Legends could possess someone, it would be her.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

But now here she is, her hands shaking as she looks at Cupid, as if her eyes could speak to hers, in a language only they can transverse. As if the hues in her iris can reach to the lines under Cupid’s eyes, as if she’s still scared to speak up and hopes Cupid understands her silence.

All her life, she knew that a prince would be by her side. That is what she prepared for. She laid it all out, like pieces of a puzzle she already could hold in her hands.

And now the pieces were stubborn, refusing to claim their place.

They didn’t fit in anymore.

She didn’t fit in either.

So the pieces turned their back on her and began a new imagery.

And she wondered, what were all those years for?

At times, being with Daring had been more an act of fulfilling duty than something she truly wanted. After all, this was the prince, the future king, with whom she would finally achieve her sweet desired ending. She would be poisoned, he’d wake her up, and her kingdom would finally be hers! She would reign, listening to her subjects, and Daring would make her laugh and … all the other things that came with love. She never truly thought about that part. They had forever ever after for those thoughts.

But now … how was she even supposed to face him?

Would they remain friends now? Were they ever friends?

Would their friendship, or perhaps lack of, change anything?

Could they move on, pretend like it never happened?

Apple knew the answer was no.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

So she asks Cupid, "Was this truly the life I’ve been waiting for, or have I been waiting for a version of it that never existed?"

She stands up nervously, pacing around the room, now visibly shaking, allowing her true emotions to reign in her body, materializing in the way her face falls apart, fear finally presenting itself.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

But at the same time, Apple is known for wanting to address things head-on. She isn’t the type to sit and let her thoughts fester. No, she’s outspoken, direct, the kind of person who believes in action rather than sitting down and drowning in worries. (Perhaps it’s another privilege of being the daughter of the Snow White—a woman who carved out her happily ever after with unwavering determination.)

So, of course, Apple almost treats this like a lesson. Maybe this is to protect herself. She can pretend it’s just another lesson she needs to master! She’s going to get the answers to all of her doubts and she’s going to know all hues and actions needed. It’s almost a coping mechanism. For a few minutes she can pretend this isn’t her real life, maybe it’s a dilemma in a theatrical play, or perhaps someone else is feeling what she is, so she’s gotta help them! This isn’t about her, obviously it isn’t!

So she asks questions — SO many questions — that Cupid almost doesn’t know where to begin. "How do I know for sure?" / "What does it mean if I feel this way?" / "Does it make me… wrong?" / "No story ever had this before, right?" / "Am I not going to get my happy ever after?" / "What do I do with … this destiny?" / "Was this always fated?" / "So why didn’t I notice?"

It’s earnest, vulnerable, and so utterly Apple that Cupid can’t help but feel a pang of something bittersweet.

Apple’s perfectionist tendencies bleed into every corner of her life, even her confusion. Whether it’s a flaw or a skill, it’s up to the reader.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

Cupid quietly introduces her to the concept of comphet.

She doesn’t use the term outrightly though, so as to not scare Apple.

So instead she uses metaphors, "sometimes, we are handed a script. We read it and we assume that role. Even if it doesn’t fit us, we still try. We want to play the part to the best because we think we owe it to someone."

"Like trying on the wrong glass slipper?", Apple replies.

Cupid chuckles, "Yes! Imagine you’re handed the key to a new dorm — well, you switched with Maddie, right? So think that you got the key, and you put it in, you try and twist it, but it doesn’t open. The issue though isn’t the key, right? The key itself is right — it’s shiny, shaped the right way, and it feels right. The problem is the door. You can try and twist it as much as you want, but it will not open."

"So…. I’m not the issue? I just .. got the wrong door?"

Cupid smiles, taking Apple’s hands, as if the mere proximity can calm the blonde’s heart. "Exactly! It doesn’t mean the key is wrong, or that the door is wrong. They aren’t a match. That’s all."

She takes a deep breath and looks exactly into Apple’s bright blue irises’ horizon. "You’re not wrong, Apple. You’re not a faulted object, nor a fraud. What you’re feeling is completely right. You haven’t realized it because you tried so hard to be perfect, or the version of perfect that everyone wanted from you, that you suppressed all that you felt."

She can feel Apple’s hands shaking as she says "… So what do I do?" and it sounds so heartbreakingly lost that Cupid’s heart seems to drown in her pain.

"...Cupid...I don’t know who I am, if not the role given to me."

"You can still achieve your destiny, it simply looks different from what you planned. A long road — our lives — is always meant to change. You don’t have to be anyone else. You have to be yourself, for that is the girl who is going to achieve all that she desires."

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

And at the same time, perhaps pieces are falling into place.

Maybe that’s why hanging around Darling was easier, why her laughter seemed to seep into Apple’s chest, warming places she had never realized were cold.

Maybe that’s why losing Briar had felt so scary, as if losing one of her limbs.

Maybe that’s why she never felt like that around Daring, no matter how hard she tried or how often she told herself it would come with time.

And now she realizes, she doesn’t have to force herself to feel that way because she, like everyone else, DOES have a choice. It’s ironic, truly, considering how ardently she fought against it.

and it’s TERRIFYING, because who is she if not that role, that label? She's not her own person, she's literally named APPLE. They are all just wearer of their roles in this society, actors on the stage of fate — but what happens when you want to get off the stage and rewrite your own lines?

If Raven was here, she'd probably chuckle. She can almost hear her voice telling her "I told you so!".

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

Cupid would be so gentle with her, her voice soft and steady, the kind of voice that wraps around you like a warm blanket on a stormy night, the kind that can help lost sailors find their way. That was how Apple felt — as if lost at sea. She tells Apple it’s okay to feel confused. That it’s okay not to have all the answers, not to immediately understand her feelings or her sexuality. That it’s okay to be unsure, to take her time. That she isn’t the first, and will not be the last to feel like this.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

"You don’t owe anyone anything, Apple," Cupid would say, a stark contrast to the conditioning Apple has carried all her life. Her crown of thorns would slowly start dissipating.

Cupid would share stories — small, tender moments she’s witnessed or experienced herself. Maybe, if she’s feeling daring, even a glimpse of her time in Monster High, though she carefully avoids saying too much about the school itself. Instead, she talks about the universality of love, how it comes in countless forms and hues, how it can surprise even someone like her, who should know everything about it. Love is all encompassing, an action, something you can try and hide from, but it will find you when you least expect it. It sees the ashes in your heart and the thorns around your ribcage, and it is not scared.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

At some point, Apple would have probably taken out her notebook. She’s known to keep lists and categorize everything. She would treat it like the lesson of her lifetime. She would be jotting down questions, observations and little scraps of thoughts that flit across her mind. Sure, she is freaking out, but nothing will stop her perfectionism from shining through again.

But as the conversation deepens, as Cupid’s words resonate more and more, undoing the knots in Apple’s chest, the notebook would quietly fall to the side, forgotten in the corner, and with that, so would Apple’s concept of the world.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

It is clear that Apple feels even more shaken now, so Cupid moves closer, reaching for Apple’s hands, holding them firmly in her own. Her grip is warm and grounding, and when she speaks, her voice carries the kind of certainty that makes you believe it’s true, even if you don’t yet feel it.

Apple’s lip trembles, and she looks down at their joined hands, a single tear slipping down her cheek. Cupid doesn’t let go, doesn’t move. She simply stays, her thumbs brushing over Apple’s knuckles.

"Thank you," Apple says quietly. "For… for listening. For understanding."

Cupid smiles, "Always."

"Can I.. come again if I need help?", she asks. Cupid nods, "Of course!"

The waves in Apple's heart slow down a little after this interaction.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

And so, over time, they meet again. It’s always either in Cupid’s room (when Blondie isn’t present) or in Apple’s — anywhere else feels not enough for these sacred conversations, not deep enough to hold the truth Apple is slowly reaching for. They tried to meet in the gardens outside once, but it quickly felt too suffocating, so they decided to regularly meet in their rooms.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

At first, Cupid treats it like any other guidance she’s given: professional, purposeful, with all the wisdom she’s gathered from years of untangling hearts. She lays it all down, slowly and carefully, and explains it.

But Apple… Apple is different.

Apple shows up with the same precision she applies to every part of her life. There’s a determination in her, an eagerness to get it right. She brings notebooks, pens, color-coded questions. She has lists, she marks down her words, she highlights what she thinks is most important.

She says it helps her concentrate.

She leans in too close when Cupid speaks, her bright blue eyes wide, her brows furrowed in concentration. She leans her head on Cupid’s shoulders when she feels too overwhelmed, and she squeezes her hands in excitement when discussing their days.

It’s endearing, at first.

Then, it’s devastating.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

Because Cupid realizes that Apple doesn’t just listen to her words; she absorbs them, as if her words are water and she is a sponge. Every reassurance, every gentle truth Cupid offers, Apple takes them in as if they’re lifelines. Apple starts to smile more in these moments, the kind of smile that lights up her face in a way Cupid knows she shouldn’t find herself staring at for too long. The kind of smile you can’t help but desire to frame into your eyelids, so as to never spend a day without it.

Her red lips have become the latest interrupter of her nights.

And then there’s the laughter.

It begins slowly — awkward little chuckles when Apple catches herself overthinking or stumbling over her words, as if she’s making a mistake when asking completely normal questions. Then it grows, freer and louder as Apple relaxes, as she trusts Cupid more. She notices it in the way her shoulders relax, in the way she allows her eyes to close for minutes at times while thinking. The first time Apple laughs, really laughs in her presence, Cupid feels something shift in her chest. And it shouldn’t because she’s heard her laughter so many times. She could play it on a harp blindfolded. It’s a symphony that has taken over her brain. It shouldn’t, but it does.

It’s in the small things, too: the way Apple tucks her hair behind her ear while she’s listening intently, the way she hugs a pillow to her chest while sitting cross-legged on the bed. The way she pauses after Cupid says something profound, repeating it softly to herself, as if to make it real.

As if her words are a prayer, sacred.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

Cupid realizes she is in trouble when Apple thanks her one day, cheeks flushed and eyes gazing directly into hers, and her chest tightens, in a way that makes her want to run.

She feels it at that moment — the all too familiar ache of love seeping into her bones, flowing from her arms to her legs, almost making her stumble.

Chariclo Arganthone Cupid has fallen in love with Apple White.

And it’s terrifying.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

She questions herself – maybe she’s making it up. They’ve been spending so much time together, of course she feels something! It’s just their endless talks about love that have clouded her mind. Of course all of her extremely detailed ramblings and explanations have accidentally seeped into her own heart. This is Apple White, of course everyone is drawn to her!

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

But ……. Cupid can lie all she wants, but love is what she was born for, and she knows it too well.

Apple deserves clarity and she doesn’t deserve Cupid’s mess.

So she bites her tongue every time they meet. When long afternoons stretch into nights, and words threaten to spill from the soundbox of her chest, she holds the poison of her love trapped inside her ribcage. She ignores the way her heart starts racing when Apple takes her hands, running from their room to the Cafeteria to get the cake that — in Apple’s words — she absolutely has to try. Cupid doesn’t say it, but she would trade all the sweetness of this world to feel Apple’s love.

And when the laughter dies down, when the cake is gone and Apple’s hands have left hers, Cupid drowns in Apple’s ghost.

She could feel it in the silence, how her heart longed to be evicted from her chest and run, run till it found Apple’s.

But it can’t.

It’s not fair.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

And one night, as they are sitting on Apple’s bed, a scenery Cupid has gotten used to, Apple admits it out loud – "I think I like Darling. As more than a friend, I mean. And before you ask, this is not another Daring situation where I think I HAVE to like her because of … our fate. I think – No, I know that you were right."

Cupid’s heart stutters, but her expression remains steady. She’s practiced this a thousand times in her head — what she would say when this moment came, how her face would twist into the right expression, how she would smile as if she was the happiest girl in the world, how she would reach for her hands excitedly. But none of her rehearsed responses seem to fit now that it’s real. None of them are able to escape from her lips. So she nods and musters up a smile, "That is wonderful Apple! If Darling makes you feel like your story is yours, if she makes your heart feel cradled and your joy enlarged, then go for it!". And as she says it, she can feel her own heart being ripped into pieces.

She could swear an arrow of her own just pierced her soul.

How ironic.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

When Apple hugs her, thanking her endlessly for her support and wisdom, Cupid lets her hands linger just a second longer before pulling away, her eyes tracing her silhouette as if for the last time.

She watches Apple leave the room, taking Cupid’s heart with her. She can barely call it her own at this point. But it will never know the tenderness of the blonde beauty’s love.

And she tells herself it’s alright, it will be alright. After all, this pain isn’t foreign to her.

Chariclo Arganthone Cupid was born for love, but love wasn’t raised for her.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

The memories she clings to like a lost sailor ….. Cupid tries to let them go, but her mind tortures her incessantly and interminably with the little moments she shared with Apple — the way Apple’s face would light up during their talks, the way she’d laugh a little too hard at Cupid’s jokes, the way her hand lingered a second longer than necessary when she reached for Cupid’s and the way she would rest her chin on her shoulder as if it could help her hide from the world and her own self. Was it real? Was any of it real? She doesn’t know what would hurt more: the possibility that it wasn’t or the thought that it was, just not enough.

She doesn’t cry where anyone can see: Cupid has mastered the art of hiding her pain.

She greets Apple the next day like nothing’s wrong, nodding encouragingly when Apple gushes about her plans to talk to Darling. "You’re going to be amazing", she says, her voice steady, her eyes bright. She excuses herself a few minutes later, saying she has work to do.

She doesn’t. She just can’t breathe.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

When finally, one day, she sees the two of them together, Apple holding onto Darling’s hands the way she used to with Cupid, she knows it’s over. And she reprimands herself. It never even began, so how can it be over? And if it’s over, why is her heart still writing, demanding for more? Aching to be read by the only person who seems to transverse in its language.

She wishes she could turn it off, shut it away, locked in the tallest of secluded towers where nobody could reach for it.

She wishes she wasn’t Cupid, the embodiment of love. How can she stand up in front of everyone and declare that love is worth it, when it feels like a luxury she can never reach?

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

As days go on, even as the pain lingers, unlike Apple’s presence, Cupid straightens her shoulders. She tells herself it’s alright, but that she needs to move on. She might not get to keep love, but she gets to create it, to inspire it, to watch it bloom in others. She might not have been able to be part of Apple’s love story, but she helped writing it. And that should be enough. One day it will be enough.

And maybe, one day, someone will teach her the kind of love she’s always given to everyone else.

It is not the ending she wanted, but it is hers. And she learns to hold it gently, the way she wishes someone would hold her.

Author’s Note: omg hi! I have been working on this for almost two months now. it is my first and probably last eah piece. I am very unfamiliar with how to write both Cupid and Apple so I hope this is not too OOC. I guess this story is a quiet ode to the beauty of love, the ache of an untouched arrow, and the joy of watching others bloom in love’s light. may it remind you that love, in all its forms, finds its way to the heart meant to hold it. the love that you give will always find its way back to you. love in its truest form is never wasted, even if it hurts you and makes you feel dismantled. and you never lose love when you give it to someone; instead, you set it free. it travels, it grows, and in time, it always finds its way back to you, often in ways you least expect. thank you so much for mira and void for listening to my rants about this headcanon, and to my friend fungi for even giving me the idea in the first place !! I didn’t specifically listen to this song when I was writing but I feel like it fits the overall topic of the headcanon <3