#i think i was just gonna say i think it wouldn't be very fruitful TO consider it. consdiering im a bit impaired atm

[sleepymccoy]

So I've seen a few seasons of supernatural in my life. Got to season 5 then trialled off and have seen a fair bit of the rest but not consistently and def not to the end. Haven't watched any in years and years, too

Anyway, I say this to highlight how bizarre it is that I had a lovely destiel dream last night

It'd make a killer fic I think, so enjoy this synopsis

Premise very much like that ep where Dean forgets his life and works in an office dressed like a lil fruit

^ that ep

Anyway the idea is that Dean forgets his life but is otherwise the same. But without the hunting stuff he's semi deadbeat working in a bar and hooking up with random women. Also Sam wasn't part of his childhood I guess, the dream didn't explain why Dean wouldn't know Sam but whatever

Castiel and Sam keep coming into the world to try and get Dean to perform a series of actions he needs to perform in order to be released from the spell. They're kinda bizarre tho and Dean doesn't recognise these guys so it's a challenge. Like, eat this daisy and have a tequila chaser. Sleep in a bed with bay leaves stuffed underneath. Stand in one spot for a minute while the sigil to release you gets engaged. That kind of thing

Dean has like feelings for them, but doesn't know them. He trusts Sam completely and they click but he's kind of weirded out by how comfortable he is with the stranger. And Cas, he wants to protect and fuck Cas in a way that's so overwhelming he can't handle it

Anyway, this is a longish post so click through for the blow by blow

Sam manages to talk him into having the flower and drink by doing it himself and pretending it's a fun way to drink. Dean takes part and is totally unimpressed but has a laugh about it

Cas slips in next with the intention of watching Dean hook up with someone and sneaking bay leaves under the bed before they get down and dirty. Because Cas can fly out the window if he needs to escape quick they figure he's the better choice for that gig. But as soon as Dean sees him it goes sideways because Dean has an immediately unavoidable crush on the raggedy middle aged dude in a Columbo coat

But this Dean didn't have the same loyalty to his father in youth cos there was no hunting to help make sense of the abuse he suffered. So he's not as caught up in his internalised (and externalised) homophobia and maybe even hooked up with a guy or two at school

It's still not normal for him and he's a bit surprised, but it takes him one beer and some disconcerting staring to get over it, and then he approaches

Cas is Unprepared™ for a full flirt from Dean and is very quickly taken in by it. It's fun and cheerful and Dean keeps swapping their drinks and stealing chips and leaning his hand on Cas' thigh when he whispers a joke to him. Cas is just dizzy and swimming in it and doesn't know what to do. He's totally lost track of what's going on

Eventually he excuses himself to go to the bathroom and checks in with Sam, who's had an hour of watching them flirt outrageously and is thoroughly bemused, amused, and has his eyes on the goal. "Get him into bed and put the damned leaves in place!"

So Cas goes back and Dean's paid the tab and is offering to drive and Cas just like you're drunk absolutely not. They make out against the door of Dean's beat up Ford Focus and Cas knows he's not gonna come back from this

He's loved Dead a long time, and there's something painful in the kiss and feeling the immorality of it. But there's something so wonderful too. And if it's got to happen, and Sam says it's got to happen so he can outsource that decision, he can take it as far as it needs to go. Save Dean, then apologise and skedaddle

At least he's got Sam's permission, so Sam can argue his side in his absence until Dean forgives him

It doesn't take long for Dean to kiss Cas into forgetting to feel guilty, tho. Then Dean starts talking about how Cas feels different to anyone else he's ever touched before and he doesn't understand why but he wants him so damned bad.

The Dean pulls back and offers to go slow. Pick you up for breakfast, go on a few dates before what's next

And Cas wants that so bad, he wants to be special, his skin aches for it. But he needs access to Dean's bed so he spearheads getting them into a motel together for the night, feeling slightly cheap and awful about it, but Dean's smile is unparalleled and the awful slides away every time he looks at him

They fuck a bit. Cas' guilt about it all isn't his focus, as soon as Dean's hand is on his dick he's only in the moment. I think Cas keeps it to mutual blow jobs, tho, he wants to save anything more for a Dean who knows him. He lies there's thinking about that afterwards and remembers that the Dean who knows him doesn't want him like this, this is some confused fucked up neuron thing.

Anyway after a bit of post coital bliss Dean gets up to piss and Cas shoves bay leaves under the mattress. Cas then insists on laying together a bit longer, they make out sloppy and Dean is very sweet and Cas loves him and eventually Dean dozes off. Tick off the second ritual

I reckon the last one ends up easy enough. While Dean sleeps Cas holds him and hums while Sam awkwardly and without looking directly at them carves the sigil in the floor. When Dean wakes up Cas makes a big deal about how pretty he is in the light and stay right there so I can take a photo of you

So Dean's striking a stupid sexy pose when the spell fades. And he realises everything that's happened and the significance of it all

Also Sam's in the room now and that's just a bit fucking awkward

Cas just leaves, cos he doesn't know what else to do. He texts Dean an apology. Dean doesn't respond for like three days which is just hellish but eventually he texts back saying come over and talk.

So Cas does. Dean's sorry too, Sam has talked him into recognising that he really got the ball rolling and Cas was a bit cornered. And Cas, desperate to not have Dean feel guilty, talks about his feelings in this vague and uncertain way. But ultimately says he glad he had a chance, even in a false world. Nice to have the memories

And Dean's just like. Okay. So you didn't hate it? And I didn't hate it. And now that there's no crazy spell to work through, do you want to take it slow?

What? Cas says

Breakfast date?

Cas is useless at taking it slow. He goes on this breakfast date and does his ridiculous I love humanity because I loved you first speech and Dean's like fuck man this is intense to hear over eggs and shit coffee! But yeah I'm sitting on some feeling that've kicked passed loyalty into devotion and I also kinda want to suck your dick again so shut up and let me come to terms with being gay a bit slower, fucking hell. You're beautiful, give me a kiss

They figure it out

[lunar-fey]

i wish my brain would . stop. or at least slow down a bit

[astonmartinii]

no more ace to play [mamma mia part two] | formula one social media au

drivers: sebastian vettel, fernando alonso and jenson button

the investigation was fruitful but now y/n has a handful of drivers and a bucket load of criticism

general note: i answered an ask about this but i thought i'd reiterate here, this is a no wives or kids au, so seb and jenson's wives and kids do not exist in this !! thank you so much for all the lovely feedback on the last part, hopefully i remembered to tag everyone who asked x

part one | masterlist | ko-fi

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, jensonbutton and 1.405,605 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial, sebastianvettel, jensonbutton

yourusername: so i guess it's kinda real now and they're all lovely x

view all comments

user4: i know the bitter old people are going to find this now but i for one think it's fucking ICONIC

user5: the guys are way too chill for the situation

user6: they've not said anything, so how would you know?

user5: idk reeks of babytrapping

user7: be for real y/n doesn't need to baby trap anyone she has her own career?

yourbff: debrief needed STAT

yourusername: literally on my way to yours right now get the non-alcoholic wine READY

landonorris: do i like get a prize for my hand in this?

yourusername: here's a gold star ⭐️

landonorris: i was hoping for some monetary rewards

yourusername: ur literally a millionaire ?

landonorris: and?

user8: are any of them gonna like comment or?

user9: very odd considering they wouldn't shut THE FUCK UP on their own posts

user10: for real they were very proud of their 'accomplishments' but now it's the consequences of their actions and theyre silent ?

user11: have yall considered the fact that finding out you might be a dad is a bit of a shock, let them all process it?

jensonbutton

liked by lewishamilton, sebastianvettel and 302,889 others

jensonbutton: back to see the old rides

view all comments

user12: SPILL JENSON PLEASE

user13: so like what team is this kid going to support they've got so much to choose from?

user14: if they have any taste, ferrari 💅

user15: i mean their momma clearly has taste so ....

oscarpiastri: nice to meet you jenson!

jensonbutton: by how much mark talks about you i could've sworn i'd already met you

aussiegrit: bold of you to send shots my way considering your current predicament

user16: mark saying this like they aren't lucky to be with y/n ?

user17: bro we all saw that you met up with y/n and the baby daddy squad... wanna maybe share some thoughts?

user18: why would he want to publicise that he got with a slag?

user17: i know you're not calling y/n a slag when we're talking about f1 playboy JENSON BUTTON ?

user19: i have complete faith that this mamma mia summer WILL have a good ending but i NEED these men to maybe actually talk about it so people aren't just out here coming for y/n ?

yourusername

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, jensonbutton and 1,209,677 others

yourusername: got myself a sweet treat and did some meditation (i.e. listening to asmr roleplay) because life is crazy and morning sickness is a bitch

view all comments

user24: not to be sappy but i am emotional watching y/n go through this, she's been on the internet for so long i feel like i've watched her grow up, idk anything about f1 but i hope they're good for her

yourbff: gosh who knew you getting pregnant would lead to us having to go to the bakery every single morning

yourusername: but but but they have such good croissants and SHUSH I BUY YOU YOURS EVERYDAY

yourbff: i know you're like my sugar mama, please still buy me pastries when you have your actual child

user25: i think we're all being a wee bit dramatic about the whole "they haven't said anything" business. yes, they probably should say they're fine with it so people stop accusing y/n of baby trapping them but ALSO we don't know what they do everyday, maybe we should just let the adults go about their business

charles_leclerc: i am basically seb's kid so i shall be a character witness: that man is an ANGEL and believe me that took a lot for me to say in public lol

yourusername: why thank you charles, i have heard a lot about you. in fact on his "provisional dad cv", sebastian directly named you, some guys called max verstappen, mick schumacher and lance stroll as fatherly experience

maxverstappen1: LOL I KNEW SEB LOVED ME BUT WTF IS A DAD CV

sebastianvettel: this is a serious matter and i wanted to show that i'm serious about fatherhood

mickschumacher: soz max, charles and lance i think WE all know who his favourite is

lancestroll: i'm just happy to be recognised tbf

yourusername: well i kinda hope this real child will be his favourite...

charles_leclerc: boring 🥱

alexalbon: well i'm gonna nominate myself as jenson's grid kid and woah that guy is great 👍

jensonbutton: sounds kinda sarcastic but thanks for the effort alex

carlossainz55: seeing as we're all here i'll say that nando is the best grid dad sorry not sorry

yourusername: you're all here but idk who you people are ?

fernandoalo_oficial: chilli have i ever told you how proud i am of you?

stoffelvandoorne: do i mean nothing to you old man

user26: wtf is going on here

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by yourusername, sebastianvettel and 1,403,677 others

fernandoalo_oficial: what a race! thankful to finally be back on the podium this weekend and i'd like to dedicate this race to the soon-to-be new addition and my new family, here's to our future ❤️

view all comments

user27: HOLY SHIT THIS IS SO CUTE

user28: i'm sorry the THUMB IN THE MOUTH CELEBRATION ARE YOU KIDDING?

jensonbutton: proud of you, come home quick x

user29: i'm sooooo chill about this

fernandoalo_oficial: i'll make sure to tell the team that THE jenson button wants the meeting to go faster

sebastianvettel: do i mean nothing? that's literally my old team name drop ME

yourusername: just tell them i've gone into labour

fernandoalo_oficial: you've not even been pregnant two months yet...

yourusername: they don't know that

astonmartinf1: this is a public instagram comment section...

maxverstappen1: maybe when the little one is actually here i'll let you win for once

fernandoalo_oficial: how kind of you?

maxverstappen1: i need the little one to know that at least one of you is cool and that i should be their favourite god father

lewishamilton: now that is a bold assumption

danielricciardo: i have been quiet on this topic but if anyone is prime god father material YOU'RE LOOKING AT HIM

yourusername: you'll all receive an email and a god father application in the coming weeks

charles_leclerc: is this another seb idea?

yourusername: maybe... but idk yall so i think it's a good idea

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, mickschumacher and 1,509,874 others

tagged: jensonbutton, fernandoalo_oficial, sebastianvettel

yourusername: welcome to the crazy house

view all comments

user33: so we've confirmed the poly? yes or no?

user34: i'm gonna say yes but with them you literally never know

georgerussell63: so we all sent them a jellycat?

alexalbon: speak for yourself george that sick ass rocking bunny is all albon

user35: not to be weird but this kids is literally going to have the hottest parents of all time

user36: no cause if i'm a teacher and all of them walk in for parent's evening i'm passing out

jensonbutton: oh wow what a lovely crib i wonder who put that together

fernandoalo_oficial: don't you dare take all the credit

sebastianvettel: as if anyone other than the WOOD WORK KING put that together

yourusername: guys they are lying the delivery guy put it together and they all stood around watching like dads at the airport

jensonbutton: "like dads" so still getting the experience in

danielricciardo: so who is responsible for this grandpa ass nursery aesthetic?

yourusername: well this is awkward i thought it was cute

fernandoalo_oficial: it is don't worry honey, it matches seb's overall grandpa aesthetic

sebastianvettel: you guys agreed to move to mine don't switch up on my aesthetic now

jensonbutton: oh seb we all love your certain affinity for tartan and plaid

sebastianvettel: i'm not feeling this love right now :(

yourusername: cuddle pile incoming

note: ahhh okay this was very highly requested so i hope it met expectations. i'm thinking this could defo be a longer series (i am also working on into the arms of another dw) following the whole family if yall would like that? i'm gonna try and tag everyone who requested that, i am sorry if i missed anyone x

taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora @faithm120601 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @luv4kani @minkyungseokie @eugene-emt-roe @magical-spit @ironmaiden1313 @jaydaaasworld @whoreks @rainerax @nonsensical-nonsence @laneyspaulding19 @chelseyyouraverageluigi @lxclerc @gemofthenight @woweewoowa

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | 7.5

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 1.2k

—chapter content/warnings: not much here!!, cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, subtle flirting (in san's and oc's terms lmfao)

—a/n: hi! just a friendly lil reminder that these half chapters are random scenes/bits that couldn't really fit into a chapter or stand-alone as one. they're mostly in the past and will not always follow the exact timeline of the previous or upcoming chapter!

San booked off most of his day to help Christopher with this symposium. Well, actually, most of the group has [minus a select few others] in order to make room for the quick tech rehearsal and run through before its official start time in the next half hour or so. The staff is now bringing in the fruit, cheese and other pastries, along with coffee, tea and juice— setting them outside of the conference room on a long table. The symposium is supposed to be 5 hours, being that everyone keeps to their 20-min presentation + 10-min Q&A times. San is off to the side speaking with Jongho and Chris, while Mingi and Zara are fiddling with the AV system to test their own presentations for the final time. Even though this is the one time most of their schedules worked, Yeosang had to skip out due to heading overseas for a conference. As San sips on his coffee, Yunho and Iseul walk in alongside of Namjoon. Per usual, he keeps greetings to a bare minimum:

AKA, a very subtle smile and nod to both. One that Yunho reciprocates, one that Iseul doesn't like to acknowledge.

But, whatever.

"Did you guys tell your labs about this?" Chris nervously wipes his hands on his dress pants, nervous about how his first symposium is gonna turn out.

"Dude." Jongho laughs and pokes fun at him. "Relax."

"I bragged about it way too much, I don't even know if people wanna come anymore." San teases, making Chris shake him by the shoulders. "Relax! They'll come!"

"What if no one shows up? We'll be giving presentations to each other—" Chris laughs, but a few people start trickling into the conference room; providing him with a sense of relief. "Oh, thank god." The three start giving small nods to the students and other faculty dipping in, greeting them just as they set their things down and grab some food.

"Can't believe you actually thought people wouldn't come. Think you might need extra chairs." San points out as more people flood in.

"Shit, I did it." Chris beams from ear to ear, shifting his attention to two more familiar faces. "Oh! Hey Y/N, Jiung!" He says as the two of you walk towards their group, giving them very curt bows.

"Hi." You smile at all, especially San. He bites onto his straw, trying his hardest to hold back his smile.

"Thanks for coming."

"Of course! Got a good lineup, excited to hear all the presentations!" Jiung tugs on his backpack straps.

"In that case, send me a full report on it tomorrow." Jongho jokes, making Jiung playfully roll his eyes.

"Do you see how he treats me?" Chris and Jongho laugh.

"Nah, he's been talking a lot about the work you've been doing and how you're probably the best person to help get the rig together for our optical electrophysiology project."

"Aw, really?" Jiung looks at Jongho. "You mean it?" Jiung has stars in his eyes and Jongho can't help but deny the allegations. He has said it time and time again; Jiung is definitely doing great work and Jongho doesn't want him to go anywhere. If he could keep him for good, he would. He hopes he can.

He'd just never say it out loud cause he's like that.

"Hey now." He shakes his head. "I never said anything, I don't know what he's talking about." 

"We have a few minutes actually, let's talk about that real quick and follow up in another meeting later on." Chris looks at you. "Sorry to have to pull him away from you, Y/N. Professor Choi #2 can keep you company?"

"All good." 

"Be back." Jiung looks at you. "I'll save us those chairs." He points towards two end spots near the middle section. You awkwardly watch as Chris, Jongho and Jiung approach another professor to talk about said project, leaving you with San. 

"Hi." He says shyly. You've never seen him this way, and he's too fucking cute, too fucking charming. It makes you replay the dinner events in your head, only pushing your curiosity of what he'd be like if you two were completely alone. 

"Hi. Is that your nervous face poking out? Are you nervous?" You tease a bit.

"Me?" He playfully scoffs. "No. Dinner was more nerve-racking than this."

"What, why?" You giggle.

"Because it's you. I have to be extra careful with you, remember?"

"Right." You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, heat rising to your cheeks as your eyes glaze over his figure; he's dressed nicely in a white button up, tie and grey vest. They're all dressed nicely for the occasion, but it's definitely an extra weakness for you seeing San like this. 

"You're cute." He mutters as he bites his straw again and takes a sip of his iced coffee, eyes looking around the room to make his flirting not so obvious. And it isn't, except Yunho has been watching from the side while he waits for Iseul to finish up working through some presentation issues with IT. He didn't mean to, but his eyes gradually glazed over to the two of you smiling and laughing.

He can't help it, but the interaction feels different. The only time he's ever seen San that shy and flustered is when he was courting Iseul. It almost feels like he's watching something unfold all over again. 

"All good!" Iseul says, knitting her brows together when Yunho seems to be preoccupied. "You okay?" She asks, Yunho finally returning his attention to her.

"Yeah, sorry. Was just people-watching." Iseul looks over, eyes also falling on San but she doesn't necessarily get a chance to think much about it before Yunho is chiming in again. "Let's go grab some food before it starts." He laces his hand with hers and leads her to the end, front row seats.

Meanwhile, you've been too busy keeping your attention on San to care about everyone else. You're so tempted to nudge him, be a little affectionate with him. And it's taking everything in you to remind yourself who you are and where you are at.

"Stop it."

"Glad you actually made it, though."

"I told you I'd come."

"And I'm glad it wasn't just something you said to brush me off in the hallway." You laugh.

"No, never." Jiung wraps up his talk with the other professors, his eyes meeting yours with a small nod towards the seats he sat his bag down at. "Well, guess they're done. I'll see you later? Goodluck on your talk, Professor Choi." He smiles toothlessly at you.

"Thank you, Y/N." He watches as you walk off and meet Jiung, plopping down onto the seat as he debriefs you on his impromptu meeting. 

"Hm." Jongho hums and clears his throat, slowly walking over to his bestfriend while sipping his coffee.

"Yes?"

"Nothing." Jongho squints his eyes at him, a small chuckle leaving his lips. "Productive conversations going around, I see."

"Mhm." San chuckles, knowing exactly what Jongho's hinting at.

"Hey!" Zara comes over with a bright smile on her face. "We saved you some seats." She points at the front row on the left side, waving them over. "Come." 

"Sweet, thanks." Jongho leads the way while Zara tucks her hair behind her ear and walks alongside of San.

"Ready?" San shrugs as he looks at her.

"As can be."

"I'm sure it'll be great like always." He smiles.

"Thanks." He lets her slip into the seat next to Jongho before sliding into the end seat, eyes quickly glancing over at you before he gets situated and switches modes for the symposium.

Though, you are incredibly distracting, and he can only hope he can get you alone sometime soon just to show you exactly how he feels.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thespiffynerd @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny

[s4bbatical]

Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want | Part 3. (Rivals Declan O'Hara x Reader 18+)

see masterlist (PINNED) for all parts Warnings: profanities, consumption of alcohol and cigarette use. hints of sex! age gap (reader!22) enjoy!

━━━━━━☆━━━━━━

You're at your desk when you hear the news, the entire office in commotion as Cameron, Tony and Declan appear after the wrap of Declan's newest episode.

"Rupert said yes?" You gasp, smacking Seb's arm. "Fucking brilliant, man." You say, grinning. "Declan's gonna take a chunk out of his neck, it's gonna be grand." You look over at Declan, who's clinking glasses with Tony in his office.

"I'm just grateful our efforts aren't going to waste. Christ knows how much time we put into this sleazy bastard." Seb grumbles, crossing his arms.

"Why you look so down on yourself Seb?" You ask, standing up straight from your previous position of leaning against the oak desk.

"I don't know, y/n. Maybe you can figure that out yourself." He says bluntly, walking away towards the common space.

Your jaw drops slightly, throwing your arms up. "What the fuck?" You whisper to yourself, grabbing the back of your neck. You had been turning down Seb's advances on you due to your clandestine actions with Declan, not realizing how much of an impact it really had on the ginger. You knew he liked you a little more than just friends, you just hoped he'd let go of it sooner than later.

As far as you were concerned, still no one knew about you and Declan. You tried to stay focused on your work and not overthink it much, although it was on your mind every minute of your waking hours. Not telling anyone, especially your new best friend Taggie, was taking a toll on you. How does one tell another that they find their dad very attractive, and also have been banging him in his office after hours? It wasn't an easy feat for anyone. You tried to remind yourself that it was okay to have a little fun, as long as no one else knew about it.

You jump slightly as you notice Declan standing by your desk, straightening out your blazer as you nod towards him. "Declan, hi. Congratulations on securing the interview with Rupert." You say, giving him a smile.

"Thanks, y/n. You've been a great help with it all, I wouldn't be as confident as I am without you." He says, a smirk growing on his face. "Would you mind doing overtime on Saturday? To help me with additional flawed research?" He asks, now properly smiling.

"Ah, I would, but your daughter has asked me to accompany her in catering for Baddingham's falconery that day. I'm sorry." You admit, shrugging.

"That's alright. Will you be coming to our home for dinner afterwards, then?" He asks.

You grin, tapping your chin in thought satirically. "Yeah, I guess so." You say, letting out a small laugh.

"Great, see you then." He says, a light tap on your bottom as he walks away.

You gasp lightly, looking around hastily to ensure no one saw. "Unbelievable." You whisper to yourself, sitting down at your desk.

-

As Saturday rolls around, you find yourself bright and early at The Priory, attempting to hold back your yawns as you prepare cheese and fruit platters with Taggie.

"Can I ask you something?" Taggie asks, rinsing a bowl of grapes.

"Course, yeah. What's up?" You say, slicing wedges of brie.

"Do you think my dad should go through with interviewing Rupert?" She inquires timidly, putting the bowl of grapes on the kitchen table.

"Rupert is an asshole. He deserves anything that is thrown at him." You say bitterly out of respect for your friend, and her father.

"Y/n, I don't think he should go through with it." Taggie says, meeting your eyes. "I'm afraid my father will ruin him." She whispers, frowning.

"Taggie," You start, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Where is this coming from?" You ask, worried about her concerns.

"I think Rupert isn't as horrible as everyone thinks he is. He sincerely apologized to me, and I can tell he wasn't just doing it out of spite for me or my father." She explains, sighing. "After you left before the party ended, we slow danced together and..." She trails off, seeming upset with herself. "We shouldn't've, I know. But there's something about him that isn't worth destroying him over." She finishes.

You furrow your brows and purse your lips. "I'm not the one to call the shots on this, Tags. You know that." You say.

"My father listens to you better than me, for some reason." She says, causing your breath to go still. "I don't know why, but I would like for you to try saying something." She pleas. "For me, y/n. Please."

You let out a deep sigh, letting go of your breath. "Fine, I will. Don't get mad if he goes through with it, though." You mumble, reorganizing the assembly of cheeses.

"Thank you." Taggie smiles, giving you a side hug.

"Course." You whisper, it was the least you could do considering what secrets you've withheld from her already.

"Taggie!" Declan yells, entering the kitchen. He is taken aback by our presence, perhaps not expecting you so early in the morning. "Y/n, hello." He smiles. "Have you seen my plaid shirt your mum put out to dry?" He asks his daughter.

"I folded it up in your dresser, dad." Taggie says, causing Declan to nod.

"Right, course. Thank you darling." He places a kiss on her head, secretly gliding his fingers across your lower back as he steps away. "See you girls later." He says, waving as he exits the kitchen.

"Why'd you look at my dad like that?" She queries, nudging you.

"Like what?" You say defensively.

"Like he was a piece of meat." She says, scoffing.

"Your dad's hot, that's not my fault. It's not like I'm doing anything." You exclaim, raising your hands.

"Good, you better not." She says jokingly, grinning at the banter between the two of you.

You laugh, trying to not frown at your inner thoughts.

Only if you knew, Taggie. Only if.

-

Declan is in the office, going through evidence against Rupert as he notices Charles Fairburn reorganizing his office. "Charles!" He says out of surprise.

"Oh, hello." Charles says. "I didn't expect to see anybody."

"I'm researching Campbell-Black and needed something from my office." He says, approaching Fairburn.

"I never thought I'd see the day when Tony Baddingham had Declan O'Hara doing his dirty work." The road of Baddingham's distaste for Campbell-Black is a long one, and quite complicated enough even for you to even know about.

"I have my own reasons for wanting to take that bastard down." Declan interjects.

"You know, in different circumstances, you and Rupert could've been friends." Charles says simply. "Both complicated, both stubborn, misunderstood." He jests, putting down office supplies on his new desk.

"Bollocks." Declan states. "What are you doing in on a Saturday?" He queries.

Charles clicks his tongue, "Moving offices ahead of my grand return." He says, now holding a clipboard. "Apparently, my recent coronary episode makes me a medical liability." He says, referring to the panic attack that happened on New Years. "Which is why Cameron Cook is now controller of programmes and I'm--"

"Head of Religious Broadcasting." Declan says, reading the new plaque on the door underneath Charles' name. He looks back and gives him a look of sympathy.

Charles scoffs. "I can't begrudge her too much. Climbing the greasy pole requires its own set of skills." He mumbles, sitting down. "Especially when the greasy pole in question, lives in Tony Baddingham's trousers." He says sarcastically. A moment of silence passes by.

"How's the heart?" Declan asks, redirecting the conversation.

Charles sighs. "Oh, you know, broken." He goes quiet for a moment. "How's the new journalist, Declan?" He asks, watching as Declan's face contorts into bewilderment.

"What'd you mean by that?" He asks, attempting to act confused by Fairburn's statement. Heat rose to his face as his heart began to race.

Charles gives him a weak smile before speaking again. "I'm sorry for what I saw at the New Year's Eve party. I was out in the garden and wasn't expecting to see you, especially with y/n." He says quietly, Declan staying dead silent. Fuck.

"I'm not telling anyone." Charles adds, seeing the worry in O'Hara's face. "Don't show Tony any weakness, Declan." He abruptly says. "Or this is what you get." He whispers sadly, referring to his new demoted office space.

Declan looks down for a moment, unable to find words as he slowly walks away. He looks back again at Charles Fairburn before he returns to his office, closing the door and running a hand through his dark curls.

Charles knew of Declan's dirty secret, but regardless of what assurance he is given, he has to keep it completely under wraps now. He has to be careful, and so do you.

He notices a folder on his desk, opening it to reveal a note from the sender mentioning of a phone call regarding Rupert Campbell-Black accompanied by a photo. He grins, his worries dissipating as more evidence has landed in his lap. He folds it up tightly, enclosing it in a new envelope with a devilish grin.

-

You find yourself back at The Priory with Taggie later that afternoon, your stomach unwell from seeing all the dead birds that day.

"God, it's astounding how they manage to eat and drink so much while killing those innocent creatures." You say, taking a leftover ham sandwich and taking a bite out of it.

Declan enters the house, returning after his time at the office. "Ah, how was the shoot?"

"Well, they killed loads of birds," You say, swallowing your food.

"But they liked my food." Taggie finishes the sentence for you. Declan chuckles. "Rupert stopped by." She adds, crossing her arms.

You watch in bemusement as Declan reacts poorly. You take another bite of your sandwich.

"Oh, Jesus Christ. Is there no place free of that man?" He exclaims, walking away.

Taggie furrows her brows, looking over at you to do something.

You sigh, taking the last bite of your sandwich as you follow her father into the other room. "I'll talk to him." You mumble to Taggie as you pass her.

After quickening your pace, you follow him into the master bedroom, where he begins unloading his blazer. "You shouldn't be so harsh on Rupert, y'know." You begin to say, closing the door behind you.

"And what makes you think you have any say in that?" Declan replies with an edge in his voice, putting a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it.

"Taggie's forgiven him, I think you can let it go-"

"Let it go?! Let go of the fact that he groped my daughter? That my own wife still wants to sleep with him even though he's a horrible fucking bastard?!" Declan yells, aggressively huffing on his cigarette.

"Look, I understand where you're coming from Declan, but this could backfire and then what happens to you, huh? What if he ends up burying you into the ground instead of the other way around?!" You try to explain, holding your place as Declan begins to undo his shirt, tossing it onto the bed. You stare at his torso as he breathes heavily in anger, his chest rising and falling. Time and place, time and place.

"He will not do any such thing." Declan mutters harshly, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray atop his dresser. "You know that Charles Fairburn knows of us, huh?" He says, leaning against a bed post.

Your eyes widen, taken aback by his statement. "What? How?" You ask meekly, guilt mixed with fear rising up your throat from the pit of your stomach. "But no one saw us?" You whisper, beginning to pace back forth.

"Well he did." Declan states flatly. He grabs your arm and halts your movements. "He said he won't tell a soul, but this means we have to keep it controlled or this can no longer happen, y/n." He whispers firmly, staring into your eyes.

"I think I'd rather quit than stop whatever this is." You mumble, turning yourself completely towards Declan.

The two of you stare deeply at one another, Declan placing a hand on your cheek. "I need to control myself." He whispers, leaning in close enough to have his lips hover over yours.

"No one can see us now, Declan." You remind him.

-

The two of you come undone in multiple positions. You find yourself cuddled up beside Declan as he lights a cigarette, inhaling as he strokes your hair.

"Thanks for that, I needed a good fuck." You joke, closing your eyes as Declan hums.

"My pleasure." He grins, inhaling his cigarette once again.

"Wait, shit." You say, sitting up abruptly. Declan looks at you with confusion. "Taggie is still here, she must be concerned why it's taking so long." You say worriedly, getting out of the bed and retrieving your clothes.

Declan watches you with a smirk, his eyes trailing over your exposed body as you shimmy your underwear and jeans back on, following with your shirt.

You run over to Declan's side of the bed, pressing a firm kiss on his lips. "I'll see you for dinner, Mister O'Hara." You tease, smoothening your hair as you exit the grand master bedroom. He simply laughs, inhaling his cigarette.

You hurry down the hall, slowing down your pace as you look for Taggie.

"Tags?" You yell, eventually stumbling across Declan's study.

She had opened his file of evidence against Rupert, abruptly closing it when she hears you approach. "I-I was just looking through it, I'm sorry. Please don't tell my father." She says hastily, getting up from the desk chair.

"Taggie, relax. It's okay." You say, hoping nothing about your appearance gives away what you had been doing for the past half an hour. "I tried convincing him, I really did. He wouldn't budge, Tags." You admit, sighing. "Maybe you can warn Rupert, I don't know. I think your dad has more dirt on him than we know." You warn, running a hand through your hair.

"Maybe I should talk to him, then." Taggie says, beginning to walk past you.

"No-!" You say, grabbing her arm. She looks at you with confusion. "He seems exhausted, I think he needs to be left alone to be completely honest." You say, hoping Taggie would drop the whole thing for today.

"Alright, then." She says, your grasp loosening on her arm. "I'm gonna start making dinner, then. Care to help?" She asks, walking slowly out of the study.

"Always." You say with a smile, following Taggie out the door.

-

As the evening rolled around, you found yourself around the dining table with Taggie to your left, Maud and Caitlin on the other side as Declan sat at the head of the table.

"This food is incredible, Tag." Maud muses, taking another bite of the dish.

"It's y/n's recipe, actually." Taggie admits, smiling at you.

"Oh, y/n. Lovely job, then." Maud says, sending a smile towards you.

"Thanks Maud. It's my mom's favorite dish. I ate it a lot growing up." You say, taking a sip of wine.

"Hmm, American culture doesn't taste as bland as I thought, then." She remarks, taking another bite.

"Be nice, Maud." Declan warns, glaring at his wife.

"Actually, my mom's from Greece. It's Mediterranean, not American." You correct her, trying to hide a shit-faced grin behind your glass of wine.

Caitlin stifles a laugh, earning a light kick of the shin from Taggie.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." Maud apologizes, clearly embarrassed.

"No, it's okay. I agree, American food is god awful." You assure her, taking a bite of your meal.

"So, what's this big interview you've announced on live television about?" Maud says, looking over at Declan.

"Ah, I'm interviewing Rupert on Valentine's Day." He says casually, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"That's it?" Maud persists, raising a brow.

"He wants to take him down, mum." Taggie interjects, Declan scoffing at the statement.

"I'm not doing anything that he doesn't deserve." He emphasizes, taking a sip of his glass.

"Declan, don't you think you're taking this a bit too far? They're calling you the Corinium Butcher, for god's sake." Maud exasperates, putting down her cutlery.

"I am doing the interview the way I want to and that is that!" He states firmly. "Now, can you all get off my arse about it and enjoy this lovely meal y/n and Taggie put together? Christ." He exclaims, picking up his fork and taking another bite out of his dish.

Everyone goes quiet, returning to their meals.

You feel a bit cold in the room, the peaks of your breasts hardening as you realize something dire-- you've left your bra in their bedroom.

You clear your throat, standing up. "I have to use the restroom, if you'll excuse me." You say, hurriedly exiting the room.

You make your way down the hall from the foyer towards the master bedroom, slowly opening the door and flicking on the overhead light as you scan the room hastily for your bra.

You get down on your knees, looking underneath the bed on the opposite side from the door. You see it just within arms reach, stretching your arm out as the door opens.

"What are you doing?" Maud says, causing you to smack your forehead against the bedframe, unable to grab ahold of your bra as you stand up hastily.

"I uh, Taggie was giving me a tour earlier and I thought I lost my ring in here. I was just trying to find it because I realized I lost it when I was going to the washroom." You lie out of your ass, smiling oddly at a very confused Maud.

"Oh, what does it look like?" She asks, not realizing this ring did not exist whatsoever.

"It's small, really small. Honestly it was super cheap it's not that big of a deal!" You force out, making your way towards the door. "Let me know if you find it though, it was from my mom." You laugh awkwardly. "I'm going to the washroom now."

You hastily exit the bedroom, leaving Maud behind as you run into the nearby washroom and close the door behind you. You panic as you stare at yourself in the mirror, whispering profanities to yourself. You wash your hands as if you had dirtied them with your actions, almost afraid to return to the table.

You take a deep breath and open the door, walking back out to the dining table as you practice breathing normally.

Maud had already returned to eating her meal, seeming disinterested in your bizarre behaviors from before.

"Is everything alright?" Declan asks you, referring to your tense aura now present in conversation.

"Yes, everything's fine." You say, taking a sip of your wine.

"Y/n was trying to find a ring she lost earlier in the master bedroom, maybe you can keep an eye out for it too." Maud says nonchalantly to Declan, whose face drops at the mention of you being in their bedroom.

"Is that so?" He asks, coughing slightly as he tries to swallow his food down. "That's a shame. I'll keep it in mind then."

You watch as Maud gives him a puzzled look, her eyes squinting at her husband with suspicion.

"Would anyone like dessert?" Taggie asks, standing up.

"Me!" You say abruptly, also getting up. "Let me help you with that!" You offer, following Taggie into the kitchen.

She suddenly stops right by the kitchen island, causing you to bump into her. "Something's going on with you y/n. You've been acting weird all day. Is everything alright?" Taggie asks, a look of concern upon her face as she grabs ahold of your hands.

"Sorry, I'm just stressed out about the whole Rupert ordeal." It wasn't a complete lie, ever since you landed this internship you've felt like putting your head in a door way and slamming the door repeatedly on it. You couldn't imagine how many grudges these Lords hold against each other, it would've been disputed in an instant if you were back at home.

"I shouldn't have brought it up, I'm sorry." Taggie says, sighing. "I tried getting Rupert to step down earlier at the falconery, but he wouldn't listen. He's convinced my father doesn't have the capability to take him down." She whispers, afraid of her father overhearing the two of you.

You quickly glance into the next room where Declan was speaking to Caitlin, Maud seeming very displeased in the middle. "I don't know if we have any more options, Tags. I think we have to let them go at it." You say remorsefully, looking back at her.

"I'm not giving up just yet." She says firmly, picking up a platter of desserts as you shake your head, bringing out another bottle of wine to share.

-

It was now Friday, February 14th. You and Seb were in mid conversation when Cameron Cook comes barreling down the office floor, yelling about needing coffee.

"You'd think the promotion would make her happy, but she's angrier than ever." You say, closing your folder. Your desk phone starts to ring.

"I'll get the coffee, you get the phone." Seb says, walking around from your shared cubicle.

"Hello, y/n y/l/n speaking." You say.

"Look, I'm going to make this very clear y/n." Maud says on the other line. "I know that you are seeing my husband." She says, causing your eyes to nearly pop out of your skull.

You laugh breathlessly, looking around as you sit down, almost whispering into the phone. "What are you talking about?" You ask, your body beginning to sweat profusely.

Declan's wife has called you, at work, on the day of all god damn days, to confront you about your affairs.

"I found your bra underneath my bed when I was looking for something else." She says, almost sounding too calm for the circumstances she was speaking of. "I know I am one to talk, but I insist if you know any better, that you no longer see him. His work already keeps him away from our family, god forbid someone at The Corinium starts doing the same." She remarks, her tone never wavering.

Your jaw drops slightly, unable to find your words.

"Oh, and good luck tonight. Don't ruin my husband's career." She says, the line going dead.

You are left in dismay, slowly putting the phone back down on the hook. You look around your workspace once more in complete mortification.

"Oh god." You whisper to yourself, getting up to retrieve a cup of coffee to mask the fear building up inside. You couldn't fathom the audacity Maud O'Hara had to tell you to leave her husband be when she was trying to get with every other well-off man in the county.

All personal feelings aside, you knew you had to listen to her wishes in order to keep your job, and Declan's. It would be unfair to both parties if you kept this up.

You shakily pour the coffee pot into your mug, putting one cream and one sugar in after before stirring it with a spoon. You stare at the ground, unable to gather your thoughts up properly as Declan quickly walks past the kitchen with his focus on papers in his hands, taking a step back when he notices you standing idly.

"Y/n, what're doing just standing there?" He asks boastfully, causing you to jump and spill some coffee on your hand.

"Fuck," You whisper, wincing as you quickly run your hand under the cold tap.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Declan says, coming up beside you and placing his hand on yours. "Is your hand alright?"

You turn to face him, giving him a flat tone. "It's fine, thanks." You say, pulling away as you grab your coffee and step into the hallway. "I have work to do."

He grabs your arm. "What work? You've done it all already." He says, raising a brow. "Is everything alright?" He asks, his eyes full of concern.

"What? Haven't you heard the news?" You quip, staring at him with dread in your eyes. You hated yourself for developing feelings for Declan O'Hara. You were smarter than this, and to allow yourself to dig such an emotional hole was the last thing you needed for your brand-new career.

"Everything is fine, Mister O'Hara." You say, pulling your arm away from his grasp. His face drops when you refuse to use his first name. "Maybe you need to ask your wife the same question." You add bitterly, stepping away from him. His eyes widen at the mention of his wife.

"Elvis is about to enter the building." Seb says, him and Daysee both running down the hall past you two.

Declan looks you for a long, silent moment. "We'll discuss this later." He mutters, following them down the hall.

You close your eyes and sigh, walking away towards your desk.

-

You're now standing in the control room, biting your nails nervously as Daysee counts down Declan, now live broadcasting the interview. You exchange glances with Seb as Declan begins with mundane questions before hitting him with mildly offensive comments that will eventually snowball into something worse.

You cover your mouth as Declan brings up the topic of adultery, and how it must do Mr. Campbell-Black well for life within the Conservative Party.

"I'm sorry?" Rupert says with dismay.

"You know, sneaking around, lying, betrayal, sexual degeneracy." Declan lists nonchalantly, as if Rupert was born for such actions.

"Oh fuck." You mumble into your hand, Seb patting your shoulder with a sympathetic look.

"Remember, Declan's just doing his job." He reminds you.

"I'm no longer married." Rupert exclaims.

"Yeah, but you were, for six years! And yet throughout your marriage, your affairs were common knowledge." Declan states confidently, gesturing to the crowd. "I mean, one Gloucestershire peer has described you as 'rather a nasty virus that everyone's wife caught sooner or later.'" Declan reads off of a card.

"Well if you've seen his wife, it's definitely later." Rupert retorts towards the audience, causing everyone to laugh. Declan's jaw vividly tenses on camera.

You sigh putting your head in your hands. "Oh wow, that's great." You mumble to yourself.

"What a fucking arsehole." Seb mutters, crossing his arms.

"And that's the break in five..." Daysee begins counting down.

You nervously watch as Declan composes himself to announce the commercial break.

"That's time for break. When we return, who knows what Mister Campbell-Black might choose to share with us when we return." Declan says through a forced smile, looking directly at the camera. It felt like he was looking right at you.

"...and we're out." Daysee says.

"Thank fuck." You quickly exit the control room, needing to be elsewhere for the next three minutes. As you make your way through the halls, you run into Taggie.

"Taggie?" You say in a quizzical manner, causing her to turn and face you.

"Y/n, I'm here to talk to Rupert. Something's very wrong about this." She says urgently.

"Jesus, Taggie you can't-" You begin.

Rupert appears around the corner with his assistant. "Taggie, what are you doing here?" He asks her.

Taggie walks past you. "You need to go. Just walk out."

"Rupert, I advise you to not do that." You warn him.

Rupert laughs at you both. "Your father's not the first old socialist who's tried to catch me out." He reassures Taggie, putting his hand on her arm. "Whatever you're worried about, it's already out there."

"Taggie, you need leave-" You begin, tugging at her arm.

"No, I know him." Taggie says, ignoring you as she pulls away from your grasp. "He's saving the worst for later. When he wants something, he's ruthless." She warns him. "He'll do anything, I mean, he's-"

"He's just like you, Rupert." You say, pursing your lips.

"Exactly." Taggie says.

Cameron Cook appears, interrupting the conversation. "Minister, we need you back on set. The break's almost over." She directs Rupert, who keeps his gaze on you and Taggie.

"Listen to Miss Cook, Rupert. You have to go." You say.

"Just walk out of the building with me." Taggie interjects, pleading with her eyes.

"Minister!" Cameron snaps, glaring at Rupert.

"Screw this." You say, walking away from everyone. You return back to the control room, slamming the door behind you.

"What's going on?" Tony Baddingham asks, puffing on a cigar.

"Cameron has it under control." You simply say, returning to the corner with Seb and Daysee.

"What happened?" Seb asks quietly.

"Taggie's shown up to try and get Rupert to leave. She thinks Declan has more blackmail on him than we are aware of." You whisper, grabbing the back of your neck as you watch Daysee begin to count Declan back in.

"Where the fuck is he?" Tony says harshly, looking down through the viewing glass.

You hide your face behind your clipboard, unable to watch the scene about to unfold.

"Y/n look, Rupert's back." Seb says, tapping on your back to redirect your attention. You look over the clipboard at the monitors, watching Rupert Campbell-Black sit back down on the stage. Rupert begins to compare the interview to being back on the playing field.

"Seb, I don't have a good feeling about this." You say quietly, covering half your face with a clipboard.

"Just watch, relax." Seb whispers.

"It's an interview, there are no winners." Declan tells Rupert, who gives him a look.

"That's not true though, is it?" Rupert queries, looking towards the audience. "He wants to beat me." He exaggerates, giving a shit-faced grin.

Your eyes widen as Rupert begins to compare him to Declan, putting both of them under the same umbrella metaphorically. Declan brings it back around by repeatedly shitting on Campbell-Black, about to pull out an envelope from underneath his blazer as Rupert does something no one expected; admitting everything Declan has said to be true.

"Oh god." You whisper.

"I remember what it was like, to be the best. And what I was willing to do to stay there." Rupert says grimly. "What are you... willing to do?" Rupert asks in a taunting manner.

Declan goes quiet.

"To your family?... To yourself?" Rupert asks solemnly, the both of them having a stare down as the control room starts to light up in commotion.

You watch in fear as Tony urges Declan in his earpiece to take down Rupert, your eyes flickering between the multiple camera angles on a very, very quiet Declan.

"You're right." Declan finally says. "I'm a workaholic. And when I'm consumed by something... I can be, um... I can be a-"

"Monster." Rupert finishes the sentence, the both of them sharing a stare once again.

Rupert makes a comment about Declan being a better husband than he ever was, which causes you to look away from the screen when Declan argues against it. You couldn't help but feel as if you're one of Declan O'Hara's many flaws.

The interview starts to go in the opposite direction. You look back at the screen, watching Declan pull out his earpiece as Tony becomes enraged.

"If it's any consolation, we've made some really great television." Cameron Cook reasons.

"This would have worked if you'd just done your fucking job!" Tony yells at her, causing the rest of you to side eye him madly.

"Seb, I need to go home." You tell him flatly, putting your clipboard down.

"What? Y/n, the show isn't over yet! Where are you going?" Seb exclaims quietly, confused by your course of action. Daysee also gives you a look of worry.

"I just said home! I'll see you on Monday." You whisper aggressively, leaving the control room.

You hastily go over to your desk to retrieve your bag and coat. You glance over quickly at the viewing room the rest of the staff was in, your stomach tying in knots as the sight.

Heading down the hallway and the stairs, you push open the front doors and end up outside, where a massive group of fans stood awaiting Rupert Campbell-Black's return. They all share looks and noises of disappointment as they see you, an intern on the brink of tears instead of the acclaimed bachelor.

You push through the crowd, hurriedly approaching your car and unlocking it. You sit inside the beater and stare off in the distance. Your cheeks are stained with tears against your own will, your forehead resting upon the steering wheel as you begin to sob mercilessly.

You felt so hopeless amidst it all, no longer sure of yourself as you were before.

-

i will not lie this chapter was becoming so fucking long it's just gonna end up a continuation into the next part... also im lowkey too awkward to properly write out sex scenes because i give myself second hand embarrassment so forgive me this fanfic is plot driven over sex driven (':

as youve noticed ive started to follow by the episode plot line, it makes it easier for me to write and follow. thank you again for the support, and as always keep interacting with my works! keep me motivated ;)

much love,

isabel

[cynarisgayass]

Sorry for lack of post, work has been absolutely kicking my ass, so I'll drop these little low effort headcannons I came up with after doing the newest genshin event. GN fairy reader. Slight spoilers??

Also to the person who sent in your Zzz request I promise I will work on it soon. Forgive me.

Wanderer:

He's very much the type of guy who even though he thinks of you as the gorgeous forest fairy, he's not gonna say it to your face. He will show up when you need help and act all reluctant about doing things for you even though he enjoys them. Then one day out of nowhere he will be staring at you and just accidentally blurt out what he's feeling like, "You're beautiful sunshine."

Then we all die.

Navia:

Girl literally calls you her partner and would die for you, so to say she'd be the type to compliment you with no shame is a understatement. The two of you would be walking through the paper woods and she would just go, "By the way, I just thought I'd tell you how much I appreciate you and all you have done for me. You truly have my heart, partner." And then she'd wink at you as your face turned bright red.

Kazuha:

Why's he here? Cause I like him shush. Anyways, forest fairies are a great source of inspiration for poems yeah, but he'd also want to draw you as well. Combine both his word building of your powers and beauty along with a image that he says could never truly capture the wonder that you are, but give those who look at it a glimpse. Then he'd ask if you wanted to sit under a paper tree and share bulle fruits with the flying squirrels.

Diluc:

Lets be honest, he wouldn't believe you at first. Forest fairy? Not real. Then he'd look around him, see the paper forest and probably have a little mini panic attack without moving a single muscle or looking any different on the outside. He'd eventually loosen up after you explain things and I don't know why, but I totally see him dancing with a fairy reader. If it helps the forest...he will oblige, albeit reluctantly.

Alhaitham:

Wouldn't be fazed in the slightest. Couldn't actually care less that he's in a different world, he's read fairytales before, he's seen what visions can do so it's no shock to him. You however, kinda surprise him. Normally he's always nonchalant about others, but you...he doesn't mind letting you sit with him while he reads. He doesn't even mind helping you when you need him too, his ways of romancing are subtle, but sweet.

Damn, actually wrote alot of these. I wanna do this again with more time and I'm also hungering to write some smut too so whenever I'm not struggling to stay awake after work I'll be posting more~

[husbandhoshi]

TO GROW LOVE (AND EAT IT TO THE CORE)

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader wc: 8.1k summary: your whole life, you've only wanted one thing. then you meet mingyu. suddenly you want too much, and you wish the summer never ended. notes: farmer!au, established relationship, angst/hurt/a little comfort

this is a birthday fic for my one and only cat @wuahae ! yes this is about half a year late but what can i say. all good things come with time. thank you for being so kind, funny, and thoughtful (and patient)! not a day goes by where i’m not thankful for our friendship :)

and a million thanks to hana @wqnwoos and jackie @97-liners for helping me with edits. literally you guys are insane writers and i will never stop looking up to you.

i. strawberries (the summer we were young)

When a strawberry is ripe, the seeds push out from the heart of the fruit, as if it's bursting from the inside out.

This is one of the few and only things you've learned by living in Seogwipo, where strawberry season comes like a supernova. The May sun, full and heavy, peels into summer, and the roadside farms open their doors, trying to catch stray vacationers from Jeju City on the other side of the island.

That being said, there are approximately two things to do here. One of them is farm. The other is pretend like you have a life, which is your childhood friend Yizhuo's favorite thing to do when she's back from university on summer break.

Today, this involved convincing her ritzy, too-good Seoul friends that they're missing out on this side of Jeju. (Missing out on what? You're not sure. Perhaps the chipped paint of the mural walls, or the endless flat-topped stretches of seagrass. Yizhuo isn't fooling anyone, but you've always liked stretching your legs out in the bed of her pick-up, even on the long drive to nowhere.)

Unsurprisingly, her friends quickly came to the same conclusion. Just one look at your local strawberry patch, with none of the glamour of the bloated tourist traps in the city, and they decided they'd rather spend the afternoon at the beach.

It was then, between the fragaria blooms, when you met Mingyu. He asked for your name, and the rest was history. Yizhuo and co. scattered like the grasping hands of an overripe dandelion and you learned that he was, one, the newly-graduated son of a pair of local farmers, and two, very, very attractive. Almost too much so, especially for a place like this.

Now he holds up a berry, a bright red murder between his fingers, and tells you to try it.

"You must be delusional if you think i'm taking food from a stranger," you laugh, perched on the fence bordering the field. It sprawls before you, melon stripes on the sunbaked ground.

"No, my name is Mingyu," he replies. "No idea who delusional is." His smile, all bright lip and snaggletooth, tears into the scarlet belly of a newly picked strawberry.

"We all know what happened to Persephone."

"Well, if the underworld was a strawberry patch, I wouldn't mind being stuck there for all of eternity."

"What're you picking all these for, anyway?" you ask, watching Mingyu struggle with his too-big straw hat between the vines. His woven basket bleeds over with little berries.

"Jam. I make it on the very first day of every summer."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who trespassed on my farm. You're cute, but I won't let you off easy."

He laughs at how you balk, clearly red-handed. You're not sure how to tell him you don't think you were supposed to be here either. You don't do things like sit in the back of trucks, trespass, or talk to pretty farmer boys who take a fancy to you, but it's the summer before you graduate and you're not even sure how long you'll have to continue making bad decisions.

"Are you gonna take my first-born now?" you joke instead. The daylight runs down the rim of Mingyu's hat, trickles down his brow, and you wish you could pour the image of him into a jar and keep it forever.

"No, but I will invite you in for some fresh jam on toast. I baked a loaf this morning." and when you say nothing, he continues. "The strawberries are only good once a year. It's the best you'll ever have. Promise."

It's a whine and a half, and somehow you convince yourself this will be the last bad decision you'll make. You've been here long enough to know that good things don't come twice in Seogwipo, and he is unlikely to be an exception.

Yizhuo blows up your phone, you tie the gingham apron around Mingyu's tiny waist, and the basket turns to blood in the saucepan.

Mingyu is right. Love comes to you in that kitchen, high and red like the sun, and the jam never tastes as good as it does that summer.

ii. watermelon (hollowed out, like a magic trick)

"A good watermelon sounds like a heartbeat."

You watch Mingyu heave the fruit, small and striped, out of his grocery bag. It joins the array of egg sandwiches and banana milks you picked up from the store together earlier. (There should have been chocolate Pepero too, but you split the box on the walk).

You're on a picnic, sprawled out on the outcropping overlooking the water. The path up is basically right behind your house, but you had never cared to visit. It had always been the local makeout spot, a schlocky teen crawl for those with nothing better to do, and yet, with Mingyu stretched out beside you, it seems newer. More exciting.

You're still just friends, or at least that's what you told Yizhuo. But ever since you sat on Mingyu's kitchen counter and ate from his jam-covered spatula, you don't think you've gone a week without seeing him. It's been almost two months, which seems so long and yet not long enough—he makes it easy to be greedy.

"See?" He thumps the watermelon with the heel of his palm. "Try it."

You already went through this entire charade at the grocery store, right in front of all the local aunties, but you indulge him. There's little point to triple checking if it's still ripe, but you think he just likes hitting it.

"It sounds good," you say. "But how are we even gonna eat it? We don't have a knife."

"Watch this." Mingyu procures a coin from his pocket. "You didn't learn this in elementary school? I feel like everyone was doing it."

"Here?" you ask, incredulous.

"Yeah, here. I grew up here too, you know."

He holds the edge of the coin to the skin and slams his palm into it once more, so that it lodges itself into the rind, and begins dragging it around the fruit. You start to wonder if he bought the watermelon just to show you a party trick—not that you mind, though. The strain of his biceps peeks through his rolled up white tee, and you remember why he was able to stop you with just one look back when you first met.

"No way." The watermelon is so ripe, it bleeds around the incision. "I feel like I know everyone here. And I definitely would have remembered you."

"I was probably, like, two grades above you," he replies. "And my parents shipped me off to live with my cousins after elementary school. They said I should get out of Seogwipo and experience the real world."

"Good call. There's nothing here." You watch Mingyu spin the melon over to cut through the other side. The coin catches the sunlight, and it looks like gold. "I wish I left for university. The one here is so small."

"Really?" He pauses to show you his handiwork. The two melon halves roll over on their backs, their cut edge cruel and jagged. "Cool, huh?"

"Impressive," you say. "Honestly. I really didn't think that would work."

"I didn't either when I first saw someone do it. But I’ll try anything once," he replies, ripping open the packaging of the plastic spoon from the bag. "I can't believe you don't like it here."

"You do?"

"Yeah. A lot." He shoves the spoon in his mouth, and you watch the watermelon juice pool around his lips. "I missed home. The trees and the tall grass and the ocean. All the fruits. Everything. I learned to ride a bike, right down there by the water."

"Hm." He passes you the spoon. You don't want to hog it, so you carve out a piece bigger than you need. "Are you gonna work at the farm?"

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet," he says. "I think I want to be here, though. Maybe do something with food, but I want to be home."

"That's funny, because I think I’ve always wanted to live a different life. Or at least one somewhere else."

"You want to go to law school, right?"

"Yeah." Mingyu is right. The watermelon is all sugar, and you would almost feel guilty for eating it if it wasn't technically good for you. "I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. It's something about the people watching, I think."

"That’s really cool," Mingyu says, mouth full but no less sincere. It's then that you notice your shoulders are almost touching, and your heart crawls back up to your mouth. "You know what you want. I admire that."

He makes it sound like a compliment, but you're sure it's a curse.

You think of your parents. There's a permanent wrinkle ironed into their foreheads, the paper crease of expectations and high standards. It's not that they didn't care, but their kind of care was a humbled sort, made heavy by a hard life. It didn't help that your big sister Seohyun went straight from Yonsei to work a big tech job in San Francisco and never once looked back.

But you can't blame any of them—wanting has always been a hereditary failing. Sometimes Yizhuo will catch you frowning at nothing, and then you remember that life isn't a performance and every day ends at the same time no matter how hard you work. But you don't know how to tell her that the only thing you can do sometimes is want, because otherwise you wouldn't really have much at all.

It seems like the exact opposite of how Mingyu lives—everything about him seems to pass like the seasons. Maybe that's why you can't seem to get enough of each other.

"Thank you. Really." You dig the spoon into your half of the melon. There isn't much left. "You're way too nice to me."

"It’s not hard to be," he laughs. "Maybe you're just too hard on yourself."

You're losing track of the distance between the two of you. You can almost feel the heat playing off his skin.

"Maybe."

It's then, under the veil of summer, where you meet Mingyu's gaze and, finally, things seem close to simple.

All you know are his eyes, heavy with sun, and then the slow, slow move of his lips against yours. He tastes like August, long and sweet, and for once you know what it's like to not only want, but to have, and to have again.

The ocean sings on the horizon, and the watermelon bellies weep.

iii. adzuki beans (or, the blood of a headless taiyaki)

Mingyu eats taiyaki headfirst because he says it hurts less.

"That makes no sense," you tell him, your pinkies linked. You never really liked holding hands, but yours fits so perfectly in Mingyu's and there's some girlish, childlike shine to it when you watch his finger search for yours after just a moment separated.

"What do you mean."

He breaks your gaze to eye a red bean taiyaki, like an unwilling predator sizing up their prey. It's the lamest, most embarrassing iteration of National Geographic you've ever seen, and yet you cannot find any fiber within yourself not deeply in love with the lion.

Fall is a forgiving place for your relationship to settle. You're now a senior at university and he's started his gap year. Gap implies he's in the middle of something, but in true Mingyu fashion, he leaves it up to fate, or chance, or something not nearly as kind (whim).

"Taiyaki isn't alive. And why would you want to pretend it is? Eating gummy bears would become an extinction event."

"It kind of is." He holds out the tail end of the taiyaki, the pastry almost explicitly flayed open, in front of you to eat. "Why does the Haribo bear have a face? Why do the gummy bears live in a gummy forest?"

"Great, so now I can’t even enjoy gummy bears without feeling like a serial killer?"

You dig your pointer into his shoulders, broad from all the time he spends on the farm. To think that his hands, big and weathered, were made to pick berries (and now wrap around your pinky finger) is bruising, if not ridiculously funny.

"It's a crime of passion. Gummy passion. Prosecute that."

He kisses your cheek and your heart almost squeezes into two.

The terrible thing about being with Mingyu is how seemingly endless his affection is. Now he's feeding you in public and buying the two of you matching socks (cat and dog, to be exact), although you'll admit it's a little charming, even if the neighbors do gossip.

He's sweet, too sweet, and his kisses stick to the back of your throat.

But you can't be fooled. There's an unsaid violence to the way Mingyu loves. (The meticulous spiral of the peel he carves when you ask for him to cut you an apple. The grind, decisive and cruel, of a knife against a cutting board. A pair of canines against your neck, your jaw.)

Even now, he bites the head off another unwitting taiyaki before stuffing it back in the bag.

"We're still splitsing, right?" he says, with perhaps 1% of his mouth available for speaking and the other 99% murder machine.

Splits, he always says before you share food. You never had the heart to tell him that it's in the same family as mines or sharesies or takebacks—silly childhood relics, ones that no one uses anymore because they don't mean anything.

This time, you don't hear him because you're thinking about the law school fair you went to before Mingyu picked you up. The future is so close, it scares you. A year from now, what ground would you be standing on? Would it smell like this—the peat, the thread-spool fields, the balm of the ocean? Would you still have Mingyu's finger wrapped round yours?

"Have you decided if you're staying at the farm?" you ask.

"Not really." He uses the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. "If my sister decides to take over, I’m actually kinda thinking of going to pastry school instead of getting a masters."

Mingyu had been toying with the idea for some time after you had talked about it on the outlook. It started off as a joke (September; a galette), then a what if (October; green tea mochi), and now it sits at a kinda.

"Kinda?"

The word gathers speed in the pachinko machine of your mind. You never liked being a kinda person. For Mingyu, it seems like a luxury of a word, but for you, it's really just another thing to hide behind. Kinda talented, kinda ambitious, kinda just there. You're always one foot in, one foot out of something better.

"Yeah, kinda. Why?"

"I dunno. What if we both end up leaving?"

"Maybe. You still want to, right?"

You would be lying if you said you didn't—it's what you always wanted. Seogwipo has been a sun-rot, too-small crutch for you, but you would also be lying if you said you weren't terrified that you'd eventually come back, limping like some doomed Icarus, unable to truly make it in the real world.

Then you think of the pockmarked farmland beside your home, lacy with the fall harvest. Even now, you can trace the endless blue of the coastline all the way there, cut through all the maybes and just let the sound of the ocean fold you into sleep like you were a child again. You wonder if Seohyun, all the way on the other side of the world, ever misses it.

"I’m not sure," you say, because, as much as you don't like it, it's the only answer you have.

"It's ok. You'll figure it out. You always do." He squeezes your cheeks together between his thumb and index, laughing at how they pillow out underneath his fingers. "Screw pastry school. I could come with you. Who else would keep you fed?"

Mingyu's complete and unfounded belief in you makes you feel something close to betrayal. How could he say any of that? With what proof? Only someone like Mingyu would be able to hold the wrinkled fruit of your unremarkable life between his palms and see something better than that. Maybe it's because he grew up on a farm. Either that, or he already cares for you too much, too painfully.

Secrets are easy to keep when they look like yours. At least here, in the pit of your stomach, you can keep count, take attendance of them, all your tittering, small anxieties. Some days it feels like your ribs are pressing out, but it's better than cutting everything loose to spill out over what little you do have control over.

You can handle a little pressure. You have to.

What concerns you is the hand Mingyu's got across your chest. With one look, he just might gut you. A twist of the heart-knife, and all those carefully wound insides carved out in an instant—maybe he'd pity you, but worse than that, he'd likely be disappointed.

For you, expectation has always stood taller than shame, and the idea that he sees something past you makes you want to run away.

"I could be a house husband," he says as easily as ever. "You'll be off saving the world, arguing with whoever, and I'll be there to run you a bath afterwards."

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," you reply, binding up the strange, hollow feeling in your stomach with a laugh.

There's a scared little girl hiding inside you, and whether Mingyu sees her or not hurts the same. A spade is a spade. You can only pretend so long.

You look at the taiyaki floating in their wax paper bag, blinded and wrought open by the same grin that now peels you down, and you're not hungry anymore.

iv. winter pears (rotten, outside your parents' house)

Mingyu's family loves Christmas.

You think it's because of the pear trees they have in the front yard. They stand bravely before the house, all emerald ash and wisdom in the December freeze. Run your palms over the knobs and it's like you can see into a sleepy visage of simpler days past. (Below its heart, carved: 1982, the year the farm was bought. Along the tangle of the roots: gyu waz here, in an unsure, childish scrawl.)  

Winter comes to the countryside crawling on its hands and knees. On days it doesn't snow, there's a mist, boggy and clingy. You've come to realize the cold is more of a threat than a promise, and so the pear trees still bear fruit; the silvery branches hang heavy, faithful.

The first day of December, Mingyu's parents had tasked the two of you with decorating the farmhouse, a duty you took very seriously. You wrapped Mingyu up in string lights and watched him blink in and out like your own personal firefly.

It wasn't until you watched the rafters, the barn doors, the joyous vault of the ceiling all glow, like a spectacular firework, that you finally started to understand why Mingyu was so into the holidays.

It was in the yellow blush of the string lights that you had your first pear from the tree, which Mingyu insisted was a holiday tradition. We make poached pears, he said, mid-bite. You simmer the pear in syrup until it gets so soft, you can cut into it with a fork. Just like butter.

That same night, he kissed you, mouth hot and trembling and tasting of honey, and pressed you against the bark so hard, you could feel the grit of its veins against your skin.

You think December became your favorite month, and pears your favorite fruit.

So much so, that for the entire month, you try to put away your worries about law school applications to celebrate with Mingyu and his family.

You learn his mom makes the best hot chocolate (a cinnamon stick and a dogged devotion to the whisk), and that Mingyu has no clue on God's green earth how to ice skate. (He careens right into your chest the first time. You spend the next hour with him attached to you like a backpack—he manages to find the most impractical ways to do anything, which you somehow admire the most). On Sundays, Yizhuo ditches her Seoul friends and instead accompanies you to the mall two towns over, where she watches you compare different ties and watches and collagen creams as you decide on gifts for his family. (Lilac is so last year, she'd say, stirring the straw of a watered-down milk tea.)

It's not until the weekend before Christmas when you realize just how serious things have gotten. Your feet understand the meander of the dirt path to the farmhouse, your bones the scent of the yellow-skinned apple, the faded wildflowers. Your palms crave the plush of the rug they have in front of the fireplace. Hell, you can't even eat soondubu without thinking of the kind Mingyu's dad makes, with extra anchovies and green onion.

You don't think about what this means. There are ten days left in December and love poured from a full cup never seems to run out.

"Please let me carry some of those," Mingyu wheedles. "Oh my god. I'm like the worst boyfriend in the world."

"No, you are not." you make your way up to his doorstep, taking care to one-two step over the stray roots of one of the pear trees. It's second nature to you by now. "The moment I hand you a box, you are gonna start trying to figure out what it is."

He harumphs and plucks the big one off the top anyway, the one he knows you can't reach. "I didn't even know you were getting us gifts. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do. Who shows up to a holiday dinner emptyhanded?" You stop at the front door. "And stop shaking it," you laugh, using the tip of your boot to nudge his shin.

"Okay. Okay," he says, saccharine, adoring, before grabbing the doorknob. "Ready? Are you nervous? You shouldn't be nervous, right? It's not fancy or anything, if you were worried about that."

And that's the thing that wedges itself between your ribs. Mingyu and his whole family are like this. They love and worry and love again; it presses deep into you, fills you, and overflows.

So here you are, standing in your nicest dress and balancing a stack of gifts you hope will amount to something, never enough but something, to repay the people who you feel have loved you more than you deserve. It's all you really have. You do your best, and yet you know when that door opens, it'll all be washed away in a high-tide flurry of hugs and laughter and the familiar press of Bobpul's wet nose against your leg. They're just those kinds of people—they would be just as happy if you didn't bring anything at all, and somehow that makes you feel even more guilty.

"No, no," you wave him off. "I’m fine. Excited."

When Mingyu opens the door, everything goes just as you expected. His sister takes your coat, your gifts are whisked away to the tree (Aji has already figured out which one is his), and his parents descend upon you in a choking swell of warmth and charity.

We baked some fresh bread for your parents (—Thank you so much, but you really shouldn't have.). You look so beautiful in that color (—No, no, you flatter me too much.). Mingyu better be taking good care of you (—He is. He really, really is.).

The kitchen is gauzy with cinnamon, anise. They must be making their famous poached pears, which Mingyu remarks on, just like clockwork.

Dinner passes the same way. It bubbles over with affection, and you feel swallowed by an impossible yearning. This—a full table and a hand to hold underneath it—did you deserve this? And could you keep it?

For an instant, you picture yourself, years later, at this same seat. Mingyu would be fussing over the rice cakes, his apron still gingham because it reminds him of the day you two met. His parents, grayer but no less happy, bickering over the shade of tinsel on the tree. And the dogs, coiled at your feet like they are now. The vision laps at your bones like you're a raft in a storm.

You're pulled back into the moment when Mingyu squeezes your hand, grounding and insistent. "Mom asked how school was going. I told her I think you're basically the smartest person I know, and I’m pretty sure you're getting into whatever law school you want."

Mingyu's parents laugh, and they cut through their pears.

"Oh, sorry," you say. "Um."

Clink. Knife meets flesh, meets porcelain. Your cheeks are hot. You wanted to talk about anything other than yourself tonight. Clink.

"The top programs are a reach, but it'd be nice." clink. "I just want to get in somewhere."

"They’re all so far away," Mingyu's mom remarks. "So grown up. Any school will be lucky to have you. You'll get into all of them."

Clink.

"Or maybe you can stay here." You watch the prongs of Mingyu's father's fork disappear into the pear. "Keep us old folk company."

"No, no, I think Mingyu should take notes and get off his lazy ass," his sister says, teasing. "Going back to the city will be good for him."

"So you can, what, burn down the kitchen again?" Mingyu grumbles, and the whole table seems to boil over with laughter.

"We’re kidding," his mom tells you. "No matter where you go, I’m sure you'll do great. We can even throw you a party at the end of the year. For graduating."

Clink. Clink.

There's a horrible uneasiness writhing around in your stomach. It's pear and syrup and clove and a blackness, an anxious, selfish one that sucks up all the generosity of the evening and turns it into shame.

Mingyu's mom is talking about throwing you a graduation party, something you didn't even think to do for yourself, and here you are, thinking about the shaking moment you open your rejection letters and the lonely path you'll draw on your way back home.

It's ok. They missed out, Mingyu would say, pouring you a consolation drink, and then it would be over. You'd go home and sit on your bed and the trifold piece of paper would go round and round your head like it was in a washing machine.

Your heart, an inventory of tasks and goals and tally marks. Things you've taken and things you've owed. It's a soft, boneless excuse. Be grateful. Give them that, at least.

Clink.

Dessert ends before you can tell his family not to get their hopes up. Mingyu's mom sends you off with your loaf of bread and a kiss on the cheek, and the moment is gone.

"Gyu," you call out on the steps in front of the house.

There are words at the seam of your lips. You want to tell him you're sorry for worrying so much. For making the whole dinner about you and then very possibly having nothing to show for it when it matters. For the heaviness in your chest. Your cowardice. But none of it comes out.

Instead you watch Mingyu pull at the leaves of a pear tree, watching the frost-filigree they get at the end of the season. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at you, as if he's on the hazy cover of a magazine. His eyes bend so wonderfully at the corners when he looks at you, and it breaks your heart.

"You had fun, right?" he asks. "My parents like you a lot, you know. I think they really do."

But that's the problem, you want to say. You all do, and I have no idea why.

Some of the pears are beginning to rot now. You watch one drop off the vine, and it caves to the pavement like it was made of nothing at all.

v. wild barley (grows like weeds)

In March, you play house.

Your parents leave on a two week trip to see relatives, and Mingyu takes it upon himself to make sure you survive.

It's a kind, blinding charade.

(7 am, breakfast. You usually don't even eat breakfast, but you wake up to doenjang and a smile, one that presses itself to yours until you're wearing it on the long walk to school.)

(4 pm, the stretch between lunch and dinner. You're muddling through another useless club meeting when Mingyu sends you a picture of him in your mom's apron, making kimchi. Kiss the chef, he texts you. You promise to, over and over and over.)

It's good until it isn't.

That isn't to say that it's Mingyu's fault. In fact, it's never really Mingyu's fault, and that's the worst thing about your relationship. Sometimes you wish he was worse just so there was someone else to blame.

(1 am, a fridge-cold glass of water and a hand on the column of your spine. Can't sleep? He asks. Just had a weird dream, you say.

It's a lie. You're a liar.

You miss your parents and the first wave of acceptance letters comes out in two days. You're not like him. Sleep has never been a cure for the exhaustion you're feeling, and you have no way of telling him that however warm the bed is won't fix that.)

It's on a Thursday afternoon when you open your mailbox and see the tiny, thin envelope that you've been expecting for the past week. You don't need to open it to know what it says, and yet you do it anyway.

The sun is white, a ghost in the spring sky. The ocean bleeds into the overcast, the curly barley stands tall around your feet, and you let the worst letter you've gotten in your life fall upon your shoulders, word by terrible word.

Then you close it, pinching the seam shut, and draw up your brave face. Nothing left to do but be brave. You're convinced you've used up all the sadness in your relationship—spend in pennies and the well still runs dry. Mingyu will cup your cheek and call you darling, pouring into your emptying basin, holey and broken.

You see him now through the kitchen window, Venus in his clamshell of a kitchen. Galbijjim day, he had said this morning. Now, he waves at you, glittery with recognition.

Your throat feels like crumpled paper.

Mingyu smiles at you, hazy through the glass. Your cheeks hurt and your mouth is paper mache, but you smile back anyway.

///

The letters come one after another.

You know what the envelopes hold and yet you keep opening them. The little folder you keep stashed in your bottom drawer gets fatter every passing day because you can't help but revisit your misery, almost as if you need to remind yourself it exists.

Mingyu is none the wiser. Today he decides he'll put off pastry school for one more year. "It doesn't feel like the right time," he says, rolling a log of burdock kimbap up. "You know what I mean?"

No, you don't. You never really do.

You do know, however, that it would feel really fucking bad that, come the end of the year, to have nothing. All your friends would be going somewhere—even Yizhuo opened her acceptance to an MFA program in Shanghai yesterday—and you would be here, still, feet firmly planted in the muddy Jeju dirt like they always had been.

"Hey, don't look so disappointed." he jokes. "Don't tell me you're already trying to get rid of me."

You're not, you really aren't. But part of you wonders if it's just a race to the bottom. If you got rid of him before he decided he wanted to get rid of you, maybe it would hurt a lot less. One less letter for the folder.

"Never. But imagine if you picked up a French accent at pastry school. Then I’d consider it. Maybe."

You watch his knife rock back and forth on the cutting board as he cuts the kimbap.

"Some for you. And more for me," he says, in what you can only describe as someone attempting to speak French when they've never heard it before. "Unless you want more, mon cherie."

He brings the plates to the table, his grin nothing short of dizzying.

"I’m irresistible, huh? Still wanna leave me now?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder than that, I think."

The words roll off your tongue, easily, traitorously.

You watch the kimbap disappear off of Mingyu's plate.

Going, going, gone.

///

Seogwipo is always dark at night, only kept alive by the glow of the moonlit sea.

You can't sleep. Again. And so you sit out on the steps in front of your house, letting the twilight wrap around you like a blanket.

You got your last letter back earlier today. You held your breath and tore it open like you would a birthday card with money in it.

Waitlisted.

It was surely better than a rejection, but some naive, child-eyed part of you thought that if you had just closed your eyes and hoped hard enough, things would work out the way you had planned. Tragically, it wasn't enough this time. You wanted and wanted and you thought maybe that would mean you'd come close to deserving it.

Your parents called today. After managing to sideline the issue of basically the rest of your entire life, they had finally cut through your sad little charade. No good news yet, huh?

No, but—

It was always like that with you. No, but it's not as bad as you think. No, but give me a chance. No, but I’m trying. I've been trying.

You wish things didn't come out of you so complicated. That you could be like Seohyun, who could go through school with her eyes closed and still graduate at the top of her class. Instead, you parade around your little failures, trying to convince people it all could mean something only if they squinted. See? It isn't so bad.

You think you're past the point of crying about it. Your stomach hurts, you're cold, and most of all, you just want to go back to bed. Plus, although Mingyu sleeps like a log, you think he's developed a sixth sense for whenever you get up too early.

Time to be brave, you've been telling yourself, although you don't know who you're pretending for anymore.

So you nudge the front door open—it's so old, it wails if you come at it with any more force—and, to your surprise, see the light above the kitchen sink turned on.

It's not very bright, but it's enough to make out Mingyu's broad silhouette, back turned to you as he makes a cup of tea. He's humming one of his made-up songs.

"Mingyu?"

"There you are," he says, turning around. "Just came out to check on you. And make you some tea."

The kettle whizzes. Your gut twists.

You still haven't said anything to Mingyu. To manage your own disappointment was one thing—you don't think you could handle another person's. And yet when he stands there, Pororo mug between his huge hands, you feel as if you are holding a knife, big and guilty and bloody.

"I-I'm fine, Gyu. Honest." you watch his expression flicker, unreadable in the persimmon lamplight. "Sorry you had to come out. It's chilly out here."

"You know, you can tell me what's going on. I won't judge."

No, no, no. This is the last conversation you wanted to have, with the last person you wanted to have it with.

You feel feverish. You think your hands are shaking.

"Mingyu, I swear—"

"Whatever it is, we can fix it. I know we can."

That almost makes you want to laugh if you didn't want to cry so bad. Of fucking course he would say that. Mingyu, who treats life like it's the watermelon trick he showed you on the outlook, wants to put a bandaid on this whole thing, as if that could come close to fixing it.

He'd tell you to curl up on the couch with a bad movie while he orders takeout. Kiss you on the top of the head. It's ok, baby. Just another bad day for the person who has the worst luck in the world. Another lump of problems for him to try and make better. If he isn't sick of you now, he sure would be soon enough.

"It’s okay," you say, steeling your voice. "It really isn't a big deal. Let's just go back to sleep."

You try to walk away, but the hardness in Mingyu's eyes roots you down to the tile.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Pushing me away," he swallows. "Like you always do. I know something's going on."

"I’m not, i just—"

"You just what? You can't help it?"

"No, I—"

"Because you like to know that you can? That you can say whatever and then watch me come back?" A fragmented, heavy silence thrums between you. He's looking at you like he's daring you to say something, anything. His gaze is black. "What am I good for if you can't tell me anything?"

There's that familiar, stinging pressure behind your eyes. You think you're crying, but you're not sure. Maybe you've been crying this whole time.

"Fine," you bite. Your blood feels like hot metal. "You really wanna know? I didn't get into law school. There. Happy now?"

Mingyu looks stung.

"W-why didn't you tell me?"

Because I thought you would stop loving me. I thought you would have finally had enough.

"Because it's not all about you, Mingyu."

The words, selfish and damning, burn your tongue. Mingyu is right. This is what you always do. You fuck up and then make everyone else hurt for it.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says. His voice doesn't sound like his. Instead, the words seem to hang in the air, trembling and holding their breath, waiting for an apology you can't give yet. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's ok." You swallow hard, and it hurts. "Let's just go back to bed."

It's getting colder and colder. You think there's a little hole in your sock, right above the cat's whiskers.

Mingyu doesn't reach for you as he passes to get to the hallway. Maybe he doesn't know how to anymore.

The Pororo cup is left abandoned on the counter. You walk over and read the label on the tea bag—barley, because you have class tomorrow morning.

You pick it up, let the ceramic buzz between your hands with whatever warmth it has left, and hold it to your lips.

It's cold now, but all you can think to do is drink it. Erase all the evidence that tonight ever happened, and maybe it'll be nothing more than a bad dream in the morning.

There's honey at the bottom of the cup. It sears the back of your throat, but you drink until there's nothing left.

vi. the peach blossoms (without fail, bloom every August. I miss you.)

You broke up the next day.

Even now, you remember what happened. You had woken up early that morning to make your own breakfast because you couldn't allow Mingyu to give you any more of himself. Your hands could only hold, shatter, so much.

"Mingyu, I think we should...." You looked at the zigzags of jam on your toast, angry and uneven. "I think we should stop seeing each other. For now," you had added, as if that made anything better at all.

Somehow that seemed more merciful at the time. Really, you think it just showed your cowardice. If you were going to break his heart, you might as well have gone all the way the first time.

Maybe it was a good thing that Mingyu saw right through you. He always did.

"So that's it, huh? You're just gonna give up on us?"

"No, I just...need some time."

"How long?" he asked. "Be honest with me. Because you know I’ll wait."

"I don't know." You couldn't meet his gaze. His eyes reached and reached over that kitchen table and you denied him even that.

"Don't you always know?" he asked, pitifully, desperately. "Don't you want this to work?"

And you did. In fact, you don't think you had ever wanted anything more, and it was that that scared you. You had already lost law school—you couldn't let the only other thing in your life let you go. So you pulled the trigger first.

"We should just end things. I'm sorry. I can't give you what you need."

He packed his bag within the hour, and you think everything, from then on, froze inside you. You didn't move from your seat until your parents came home from the airport later that day and asked why there were two plates of toast still on the table.

You think you knew, someplace, inevitably, this would happen. You, who only knew hunger, had reached deep inside Mingyu and rooted out a love you didn't think you were worthy of having. And yet you still ate from the vine, bite after guilty bite, until you couldn't take any more. The only time he asked you for anything at all, you couldn't give it to him—such was the irony of your relationship.

Maybe you were doomed the moment the first strawberry hit your tongue, just like you had said, all that time ago.

About a month later, you got another letter in the mail. Chungnam National University Law School, it read. This one was fat, in one of those brown envelopes lined with bubble wrap. Somehow, miraculously, that position on the waitlist had turned into an acceptance. You held the package to your chest and cried, loud and with abandon, as if taking a deep breath after almost drowning.

Ironically, the first person you wanted to tell was Mingyu. But the good news you needed to save your relationship came too little, too late. Perhaps that meant it had no legs to stand on in the first place, but that didn't stop you from missing it. Instead, you told Yizhuo, and she drove you to Jeju City and treated you to dinner. "You should just call him," she had said. "Hey, don't look at me like that. He'd probably pick up on the first ring."

The city is swathed in August's crimson summer—peach season. The narrow streets are lined with peach trees, the fruits glowing like fat drops of sunlight. All you do these days is plan for your eventual move to Daejeon and the start of a life that seems newer and shinier than your own. But surrounded by the cicada song, the velvet treeline, the rain-soaked asphalt, somehow you think you're going to miss Seogwipo more than you think.

(Fickle, fickle heart. You always needed things to be taken away to really be able to appreciate them. Somehow, all that wanting had boiled down to something more satisfying, more filling.)

You wonder how Mingyu is. Now that you think about it, he seems just as much a part of Seogwipo as the farm he lives on. It was only last summer when you had first met him in the field, set on fire by the strawberry harvest. You think about him now, peddling around that ridiculous wicker basket to make jam. Maybe talking to another pretty girl, someone as naive, cruel as you had been.

Not long ago, you considered calling him to apologize, but that'd just be another thing to be selfish about. A little time and some warm weather, and I’m calling to finally wash my hands of you. That's what it would sound like, no matter what you said. Still, it didn't stop you from thinking of him, every flower, every season.

"You know, I always wanted to grow peach trees. But I think we've always been a pear kind of family."

Mingyu. If a voice could cut through air, it'd be his.

You whip around, half-believing you're hearing things. Certainly that would be easier, but you're learning that there are some things you can't run from.

And like a picture, Mingyu stands tall, golden, framed by the peach blossoms. Not a thing about him has changed. Not even the way he looks at you.

"Mingyu," you breathe. Unfortunately, none of the times you replayed your last conversation with him help you come up with something to say, because in none of them did you anticipate him coming back. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I live here, silly."

"No way," you reply, scrambling. "Crazy, because I live here too."

You both laugh nervously, a silly, bubbly thing, but you feel like you're going to throw up. It's only now that you realize you're kind of on the walk to his place. Seogwipo has never had places to hide.

"I...um." You try and disentangle the guilt from the nostalgia from the scent of the peaches and the warmth on his face. They all look the same. You missed him. "I got into law school. In Daejeon."

"I heard," he says. "Not surprised at all. I always knew you would."

"Thank you. I mean it." The cicadas buzz around you, as if they know they have an important silence to fill. "You're staying in town, right?"

"Actually, I decided to apply to culinary school. It finally felt right, you know? I'm leaving at the end of the summer, but it's just in Jeju City. I couldn't leave the island."

"Thank goodness. I don't know if you could tell, but I kind of always hoped you would. I don't think I’ve ever eaten better food." Your voice wobbles, but it gets there. "You'll do amazing."

Then time stretches and forces you to recognize, reckon with, the moment you're in. You wonder if he feels the same way you do—bruised, overripe. If there's still a space in his heart for you.

Deep breath. Life only gives you so many chances.

"Mingyu, I’m sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't make us work. You deserved better." Saying it feels like peeling the skin of your heart back. There's still a palpable distance between the two of you—you think that had always been there—but it feels more comfortable in a way it never did before.

"Don’t apologize," he says, easily, as he always does. Everything seems to flow off him like water, and you think that's the part of him you loved the most because it was the one thing you couldn't touch. "We loved each other. I think that much was true."

A jasmine breeze curls through the trees, sending the blossoms fluttering around you like ink in water. The very first time you met Mingyu, you thought the image of him, haloed with the sunset, was the one you wanted to keep forever. And yet, somehow, you don't think you'll ever forget the way he looks right now.

"Will you ever come back to Seogwipo?" you ask.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing—you were always the one who wanted to get out of here." He grins, ear to ear. "Of course I'm coming back. There's nowhere I'd rather be."

"Yeah. I think I know what you mean."

The sea, the clay dirt, Mingyu. Even yourself, clumsy and care-worn. You think, somewhere along the line, you forgot how to love. But you're learning—one step at a time.

"Friends," you say. "Let's be friends. If you'll let me."

"Thought you would never ask. Gladly. Always." The space between you seizes, like it's holding in a breath. Maybe one day, you'll think of closing it once more, but you like where you stand now. You can admire him better from a distance, without your fingerprints all over him. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, something he does before he gets ready to leave. But before he does—"I'll see you soon, okay? You better come back. Promise me."

For the first time, you see the honesty in his eyes and you really, truly believe him.

"Promise."

The Seogwipo sun is high and red in the sky when you wave Mingyu goodbye. It feels like you're coming to an end of a long summer, but you're not afraid. You watch the wind dance through the peach blossoms, their branches never searching, never wanting, and you finally feel as if you've arrived home.

[pedge-page]

Okay but pls feel free to ignore this I'm not creative but I love your writing

But I have an elderly sphynx (cat) and he's the love of my life, he gets cold so he wears jumpers and hats, and wants to be inside my clothes for warmth and is just an absolute baby, and sleep in my arms/in my hood honestly 24/7. He's like a small person he's so needy.

I can picture Joel getting home and pregnant reader has acquired one from someone, and the cat is her "practice" baby and she dresses him up and absolutely spoils him and carries him everywhere and Joel is just so baffled by what on earth is going on. BUT CANT QUESTION IT BECAUSE READER IS A MEANIE (as she should be) (mother knows best)

🩷🩷🩷

Sphinx cats are so cute oh my gosh!!! She would love him so much, subconsciously because she'd think it's like a little Joel when he would shave and be like "smooth—hairless—baby man" (which is subsequently the last he shaved fully).

Also can't believe youre gonna give such cute imagery but not even show us with a pic ugh devastating but ALAS. Here's how it would go:

- - - -

When Joel comes home, he usually expects one of two things: you're sleeping on the couch with some mixed fruit jelly smeared all over your mouth and between your tits, or you're throwing a plastic cup (because he pre-baby-proofed the house to avoid having any dangerous objects in YOUR grasp) at his head for opening the door the "wrong way" (how does one open a single sided hinged door the wrong way? He's still trying to figure it out).

So when he walks in the front door and hears excited little peeps from you from the bedroom, he's a little weary.

It's not till he's tossing his keys on the counter and hearing you say "you're such a handsome man" that Joel's heart stops.

There's no way. You wouldn't. Not now, not so fucking pregnant with his baby—

Oh fuck. Was it his baby? Or was it this "handsome man" in HIS house with HIS wife, canoodling in HIS bed!??

And how long? How long has this affair been going on under his roof? The entire time you'd be angry at Joel during your pregnancy, maybe you meant it? Maybe you were done with him, seeking something new and exciting?

When Joel finally rounds the corner, just one step away from the doorway, listening to your giddy gasps and rustling clothes, he doesn't know if he can bring himself to find out. Can only imagine a million things he's going to see, all of which are too painful to conceptualize.

He hears your excited giggles, closes his eyes, braces his heart, and walking in.

It takes him a second to register what he's looking at: there's no other man in here, but rather something tucked up in one of his old high school hoodies that you're wearing, backwards, with the hood hanging against your chest.

Then there's something moving in it, and he's almost scared you may have already had the baby and are suffocating it in the hood, though your belly is still very much full, so what—?

"Joel!" You shout, looking petrified as if you're caught in a scheme.

Before Joel can even speak up to ask what's going on, you're pulling what is possibly (from Joel's perspective, mind you) the ugliest pink squirmy ballsack out of his hoodie, complete with a skiny pale rat tail, big marble eyes and pointed ears.

"Meet Ramses!"

He drops his backpack at the door and stares. "What. Is that."

"I literally JUST said his name is Ramses." you scold, kissing the—thing— on the wrinkly folds of its forehead.

It starts purring affectionately, and it clicks.

"That's a CAT?" Joel shouts.

You can feel the poor thing curls up against you with tension at his booming voice.

Joel, please, lower your voice—"

"Where's its fur? No wait, why is it here? How did you get a cat? Who's cat is it? WHY do you have it??"

"Well Deanna next door had a family emergency in Connecticut and they had to fly out this morning, so I agreed we'd watch Ramses until they got back."

"Why is it naked? What did you DO to it?" Fucking hell, Deanna and George are going to have a field day to find you'd shaved their pet literally within 24 hours—

"That's the way it is. Never seen a sphinx cat before?"

Hes not really listening at this point. Joels heart rate had finally caught up with him as he kind of breathes a sigh of relief.

A cat. He thought you were having an affair with a cat.

"Isn't he sooooo cute!!!" You squeal with little jumpy feet.

But it's not cute. Not with the way it's looking at Joel, with its slitted murderous eyes and pointed claws clinging to you while it hisses at him.

"Why is it in my hoodie?"

"He's cold, damnit Joel even YOU noticed he's naked. Poor handsome baby needs all kinds of love, and sweaters, and warmth and—"

The little sucker is just eating it up, as you babble on about getting it jumpers, and baby socks, and cutting all of Joels sweaters up so it can rest on top of your belly, and a spot for it in the bed—

"The BED? NO. No ballsacks in the bed."

"He's SO much cuter than your HAIRY ballsack, Joel, which as far as tonight, can agree to those terms and sleep on the couch." You scoff him and hold Ramses to your chest, scratching his ears and kissing him as you shove past your husband.

-

Joel doesn't know what to do. Its one thing to agree to feed a cat every so often for a friend while they're out. It's something else entirely to be doing... what you've been doing.

There's a new amazon box in every hour with custom knitted cat sweaters and hats and ear muffs that you've gone off the reservation with just "needing" to keep warm, now full blown getting an outfit for every occasion. He hears you talking to it like a person, using a baby voice to tell him how handsome he looks, "like a wittle baby pharoh". Joel is tripping over all the cans of luxirous cat food youve been "testing" to find his desired taste. The man can't even get cuddles with you anymore because you're so god damn obsessed with swaddling Ramses in your clothes and softest blankets.

And it KNOWS. The damn cat KNOWS you've completely ignored your ever doting and pampering husband for it—while it does NOTHING but absorb your affection. You've craddled it against your every exposed piece of skin from sleeping across your neck to letting it rest atop your bump. Each time Joel tried to hug you, there's a quick hiss at him and low and behold there's the sleeping Ramses all nestled in HIS GODDAMN HOODIES (granted, that he gave you BUT STILL) wedged between your tummy and tits like a sauna, all curled up as youre talking to it like its a—

Oh my god.

"Are you... practicing—for the baby??"

You stop mid bounce of the kitty in your lap, wearing a matching knitted sweater to yours. "What! No! Thats—" but your eyes faulter to the cat who's just been helplessly going along with your toying. "No! Ramses is just a sweet little kitty who has NEEDS. Poor baby boy is so cold, he needs warmth of a —"

"Mother?"

"MAYBE."

Joel goes to sit down but the cat is giving him a less than inviting glare, so he slinks back to the other end of the couch.  "Honey. I think you're taking the cat-sitting too far."

"NO Im not!" You cry. You clutch the poor baby close to you defensively.  Why are you crying? I mean, you KNOW why--you're worried Joel is going to take your baby away from you—

Ooooooooooooooooooh. Oh fuck.

You stare at the little lump of skin curled up in your lap, with his collar that says "mommy's goodest boy" and realize how much Joel is definitely right...

Not that you'd EVER tell him that.

"No. You're wrong. I'm just being a fantastic neighbor. And you're being a shitty husband and not supporting me."

"That's a little too far—"

"And—" you interject. "Even if it WAS my baby practice. Which it isn't. You aren't being a very supportive father here either."

He sighs in defeat.

Can't argue there.

so when Deanna and George call to let you know they're going to be another week up North, you let them know Ramses is in good hands.

All true. Now that Joel had gained Ramses trust and had maneuvered the little guy in the new baby sling that you two could not figure out for months, you felt pretty confident in Joel's papa skills blossoming.

- - - -

Joel dealing with Preggo Wife masterlist

[petrichal]

One Piece 1133 talk: Praise Me for Living

i just wanted to open this with I WANT TO PELT SPANDINE AND THAT FUCKING SON OF HIS WITH ROCKS SO BAD OH MY GODDDD

"I'll never forget the sounds of the screams that emerged from the fire" THOSE WERE CIVILLIANS. ON THE ISLAND YOU ORDERED A BUSTER CALL ON. I HOPE YOU CHOKED IN YOUR GRAVE AND SUFFER IN HELL I HATE YOU

(kind of a moot point but one other thing i wanna say when I was reading through the raws was that Spandine says “ガキの皮を被った悪魔だ”/"That's a demon wearing the skin of a child" here which - to me - felt more visceral than the translation. still an insane thing to say about a child though, obviously.

edit: I was thinking how fucked up it was that literally everyone around her believed that she truly was the devil's child, but with descriptions like that (+ rumors spreading about how she can use "freakish sorcery" [-> devil fruits not being common in the Blues?], she'd "slit your throat in the night", and "no human emotions", like she's not human at all) you can see how easy it was for people to get brainwashed into this wrong idea of her when she was young. Government manipulation in, i guess, the entirety of West Blue at the time, ran deep. anyways)

With that outta the way, this chapter is masterful. Im gonna cry. Ive cried already throughout a third of my reading for this chapter, it's just so good. Nico Robin I love you so much

Though its unfortunate that we have to see Spandine again, Oda knows what he's doing bringing back Robin's tragedy at the start of the chapter. We know her story, we've seen her flashback, but it's an entire other thing to see it again in Elbaf, the arc where we know the context of, that Saul is alive, and it gives us a clue that that is where the chapter is heading towards.

Also isn't it crazy that when the dialogue frames Robin as this "dangerous", "unfeeling" person with no heart, the visual we're presented with is her crying as she sifts through garbage to search for food, and then sharing it with a dog?? Hello??? And the panels before that goes "The government won't go into detail about the story" for fear that "the truth" might "traumatize the children", which is CRAZY when slapped upon an image of cipher pol agents with guns actively hunting down a child??? The juxtaposition of Spandine's dialogue and the images that are shown is very telling, it's just so well done.

TW: discussions of suicide (for this part)

We know that Robin was ostracized as a child. We know this. Doesn't make it hurt any less, though. Especially (and especially) when it's shown on the pages clearly of how it affected her.

What got me thinking when I saw this again was that all of West Blue was probably fed this lie from the World Government. Every island she went to knew who she was, literally everyone was warned to look out for her, that she was dangerous and should be turned in. And it's not like travelling out of West Blue was safe, nor was it probably an option that existed for Robin back then- like, she was eight!! How was she supposed to go across the Red Line, the Calm Belt?? She was truly boxed in. She must've felt that there was no other way out. Of course she'd turn to suicide.

That panel of her at the cliff honestly broke me. It's not like it wasn't implied at all back when her flashback was first shown; Her circumstances were difficult for her and it wouldn't be out of left field to think that she might have considered dying. To have it drawn on a page that she considered it, looked down from a cliff, and the fact that the only thing keeping her from jumping was her mother's words and Saul's promise was genuinely heartbreaking. She was so strong to have gone through all of that, she deserves the whole world and more actually

Cut back to the present and she lived through it all and here she is with her family, a place where she belongs aaaaaa 🥲 I love that Luffy gets all huffy (hah) over Robin saying that she can go alone, saying that a captain needs to pay their respects to those who have helped their crew, that it's the honorable thing to do. Sounds like a certain someone, ey? (Ace & Shanks lol, he remembers Makino's lessons from all those years ago too ;v;).

Then they all insist to go with her and it's so cute and I was like oh when did she change her clothes and $@!#>}! ITS THE SAME FIT SHE WORE WHEN SHE MET SAUL FOR THE FIRST TIME!! SAUL'S "FALLEN AND WON'T GET UP" IS BECAUSE HE DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO GREET HER SO HE DECIDED TO JUST FACEPLANT ON THE BEACH BECAUSE THATS HOW HE MET HER FOR THE FIRST TIME!!! ITS SO SILLY BUT I STARTED TEARING UP??? WHAT????AND THEN THE PARALLELS:

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

my heart...... my heart.....augghjkjsdh..... (speechless)

The fact that the first thing he tells her was about how Ohara's sacrifice wasn't in vain, that traces of them still remain, like Robin, did you hear Vegapunk's message?? That was the message from the people of Ohara, their voices are still being heard!! was so goddang wholesome.

And Robin hears this, and she hears about how Saul survived and the things he heard other people call her, and he's getting angry on behalf of her again but all she wanted (and perhaps, what she truly needed this whole time) was something else;

For Saul to praise her for having survived.

(The Viz translation isn't ~wrong~ with Robin's line here, but I wanted to point out how it was put originally; Instead of "I want to hear nice things about how I survived!", the raws read “生きたこと… 褒めてほしい！”, which, as I understood it, "I want you to praise me... for being alive/having survived!". The chapter title has it as "Nice Things" but the original was “褒めてほしい”/ "I want you to praise (me)". And this probably seemed self-conceited in english?? and that's why it's translated like that idk, i just thought its nicer in jp)

But the fact that Robin is asking this of Saul and the fact that she's able to make that request in the first place is where I sobbed because this is what Robin wants to hear!!! It's a childish, selfish request, and it's something she wasn't able to wish for / doesn't allow herself to wish for before because she thought Saul/anyone she loved from her past was dead this whole time or that she didn't deserve it, but Saul is alive, and it's the first step she needs to take to truly heal!! Her changing her clothes and cutting her hair to seem more like herself when she was younger is a deliberate choice, this is the part of her that needs closure, the part of her that went through all the trauma the world had given her, and she's healing her inner child!! She needed to hear this from Saul!! She deserves this so much!!! (im rambly if this doesnt make any sense im sorry khfdjk)

And Saul laughs, and says of course!/“勿論だ！”, no questions asked, and the unconditional love just broke me down man i cant

Note that Robin was smiling this entire time (maybe from the start of the arc? or at least since she cut her hair) and leading up to the last page was when she finally started breaking down. They're crying, the crew's crying, Luffy looking on so fondly, happy for her, and I'm crying. I love One Piece so much, I love these dorks. I don't think I'll forget this last page for my life, it's one of the best moments in this series to date.... Truly the Robin chapter of all time <3

bonus: lmfao?? maybe they'll let him down once they get back for the festivities but rip bozo

[starlightshadowsworld]

The Wary Weretiger

"You know, I think therapy might be more effective than this." Said Atsushi. He didn't need to turn around to know Akutugawa was rolling his eyes.

"Shut up."

Atsushi raised his hand, catching the orange. "Huh, you even peeled it this time. Must be serious."

He wasn't exactly sure how they got here. Akutagawa had been hunting him down for his bounty.... And than one day just stopped. Somewhere along the lines this had become their routine.

Akutugawa ranted at him, Atsushi sat and ate whatever fruit he'd pick up on the way. Sometimes he'd voice his own opinion and Akutugawa would begrudgingly listen.

It was werid.

But not unwelcome.

It definitely beat having his leg cut off, that's for sure.

"Go on, out with it. I'm busy today." Akutugawa scoffed "and what could you be possibly busy with." Atsushi shrugged "well I still need to get a job."

It didn't matter how much he saved from what he stole from the Orphanage, it wouldn't last him much longer.

"I thought the Agency offered you a position." Said Akutugawa, carefully. As kind as Atsushi was he fought like a caged beast. He could and would ditch Akutugawa if the other offended him.

And Akutugawa didn't want to admit he liked his company.

Atsushi took a bite out of an orange slice "only because of my ability. They're nice people, but I'll find a job myself. Besides that would you my enemy and I am not dealing with that."

His leg would grow back but it was painful. And being on Akutugawa's not bad side was a nice place to be.

Not that Atsushi would admit it.

Akutagawa nodded, he could respect wanting to keep your pride even when you were at rock bottom. But even soo... "Is it so bad for them to want you for your ability?"

Atsushi paused.

"My whole life people have only wanted my ability. They've tried to rip it out of me because they felt entitled to it.... Do you really think I'd want to join an organisation that values it so highly?"

There was an edge to his tone, but also sadness. Akutugawa's eyes went wide in shock.

He unconsciously tugged his coat closer. He wouldn't know what to do if Rashomon was stolen from him.

Akutugawa felt vulnerable just taking a bath, he couldn't imagine how Atsushi felt feeling his ability get ripped out of his skin. It was fortunate that it clearly failed.

It certainly explained Atsushi's distrust of both light and dark.

"I suppose not." Said Akutugawa, going quiet in thought. He went back to his initial question.

"I was once in a situation like yours. I lived in the slums, it was there Dazai found me and I joined the Port Mafia. That became my purpose, and I'm lost without it. But you... You don't have that, and yet you seem satisfied."

Atsushi hummed, thoughtful. "I'm gonna say something, but right or wrong you're not allowed to stab me again."

Akutagawa scoffed.

"I stabbed you one time, stop acting like it was such a big deal.... But very well, I won't stab you."

Atsushi turned to face Akutugawa, putting his orange slices back into a tupperware box. "That isn't your purpose."

Akutagawa is taken aback. He wants to argue but something in him stops him. The way Atsushi spoke to him now was different to how he usually does.

He sounded like Dazai.

Dazai in the quiet moments, the rare moments when Akutugawa hadn't failed him. The all seeing look in his eye as he read Akutugawa like an open book.

"You had a purpose, one you cherished like a second soul. But you lost it. You tried to convince yourself whatever you consider your purpose now is it, but it isn't. And it never will be."

And yet when Atsushi spoke it was kind. It wasn't intended to tear Akutugawa down, quite the opposite. And Akutugawa found himself unable to look away.

"... How do you know this?"

Atsushi smiled, it was small and sad and it didn't fit him like his usual grin did. "You wouldn't be trying so hard to find your purpose if you truly believed you found it."

He looked away, giving Akutugawa some privacy in his own thoughts. "Ask yourself, who were you before the Port Mafia? Who were you back when you were like me? There's you're answer."

Akutagawa frowned, deep in thought. He'd been... He'd been weaker and pitiful. A small child who killed whoever went in his way, but killing hadn't changed in his life.

He was the Port Mafia's Rabid dog, he was still a killer so that wasn't it.

What had he been killing for? In the Port Mafia it was because those were his orders. Because the weak needed to be destroyed to make way for the strong.

Back in the slums it had been for survival. Akutugawa would've died many times over if he'd let those idiots survive. And Gin wouldn't have survived of he hadn't protected her from them.

Akutagawa froze.

... That's what it was. He had been a protector, his reason for killing down in the slums was to protect Gin and his friends.

His friends who were killed on the night Dazai found him... The night Akutugawa lost his purpose and tried to gain another.

But failed.

"I can't get it back." Whispered Akutugawa, suprised that he choked up at the thought. He hadn't thought of them in years.

"You can" Said Atsushi, looking at him again. "The circumstances may have changed, but the core premise is the same. You just have to open yourself up to that."

Open himself up? So Akutugawa had to find something else to protect? That... Didn't seem so hard, given the Port Mafia protected the city from the shadows. And Gin was still with him.

Had it really been infront of him, all this time?

"That's the difference between us" said Atsushi, quietly but Akutugawa caught it. "You had a purpose only to lose it. While I have never had one."

Atsushi chuckled and it was sad again and Akutugawa hated it. He preferred when Atsushi was genuinely happy. When his smile reached his eyes, his eyes that were kind and shined with light.

Now they looked so empty, so sad.

"You think I'm satisfied but I'm not. I have no dreams, no aspirations, my worth is tied entirely to my ability. I live to spite all those that want me dead, to stop them from taking the tiger if I pass on. I have no purpose, not really."

Akutugawa didn't know what to say, all he could do was nod in goodbye when Atsushi left.

He reached down, picking up the half of orange Atsushi saved for him. That he always saved for him, no matter how hard times got.

"You're wrong" he said to the wind as he walked away. "You're so much more than you're ability."

[semisolidmind]

i dunno if this has been asked before, but i kinda wanted to splurge a little bit.

how and where does azure lion and the other animal celestials play a part in the BEW au? or even TAB AU. my personal idea on it could be that azure uses reader kind of as leverage against wukong, while as in TAB maybe reader is used to cause a rift between the brothers so that azure has an easier time murking wukong.

alright, so. the big bad brotherhood. they mostly just play the part of extra soldiers and sovereigns in wukongs conquests, his own little war council. im gonna go with the idea that the betrayal hasn't happened, since wukong doesn't get recruited by heaven in the base versions of these aus

(ive said before that, at least in bad end, the brotherhood wouldn't bother with reader too much. buuuut i don't think i specified what they're like in TAB and their reaction to their comrades marrying reader.)

peng (the bitch) doesn't much care for reader. they wonder why the all-powerful wukong is bothering with a human. they likely make a snide comment or two when wukong first introduces her to them at a meeting, which wukong (and macaque) immediately shut down with threats of violence. mac especially doesn't tolerate peng being an ass to his wife; his hatred for the winged menace is potent. luckily the bird demon is catty, not stupid; and surprisingly, they learn to keep their beak shut about their leader's wife. this leads to them largely ignoring her. reader doesn't like them much either, but tries to be polite.

yellowtusk feels pity for reader. he knows she didn't exactly become queen of flower fruit mountain willingly, and believes that she would be happier with other humans. but he's not called "wise" for nothing; he won't be lifting a finger to help her. even as strong as he is, he knows he stands no chance against the two simian warlords. regardless, he's polite to reader and will speak with her about the various topics that she's read about. he's a surprisingly good conversationalist.

demon bull king is ambivalent towards reader. he knows what it's like to want someone outside your station, so he doesn't say anything negative to wukong about it. he'll speak to reader if she speaks to him, and is overall polite (seeing as she is technically a queen and he has a lot of respect for wukong), if not very gruff when doing so.

azure lion is the only one who would be actively kind to reader, the only one who would speak with her like a true equal. despite his status as a once-celestial soldier, demonic sovereign, and a general of the infamous monkey kings' demon army...he still has a soft spot for mortal civilians. if a platoon of the monkey king's army is passing through, one would hope that he's leading it. less innocent blood is spilt when the lion general is at the helm.

its because of this that he was concerned when wukong introduced reader to him. what was a human doing on flower fruit mountain? she's married to the monkey king? she seemed...very uncomfortable in the presence of her husband. the lion demon knows that she was likely frightened by the two monkey warlords' use of "demonic courting tactics" and introduced himself gently. the fact that she responded to him (considering his size and appearance) without too much hesitancy, was able to bow politely and look him in the eyes despite all she'd likely been through at the hands of his brothers–he couldn't help but admire her bravery.

azure is aware that his sworn simian brothers are unconventional in many aspects of their life, so the fact that the two of them would marry a human (the same human, no less) isn't too surprising. the two are of one mind, and azure has made a tentative peace with the ruthless way his brothers conduct their business.

...but he can't help but feel sympathy for reader. she didn't choose this life for herself, though he can see the lingering affection she has for wukong and macaque. and once he gets to know her (an occasional talk outside the council room while the warlords are busy discussing strategy, a close seating at a banquet, or during a party on the mountain), azure begins to understand why they chose this woman. a fondness grows in his heart for the quiet human who is kind to him despite knowing what he's done.

he won't say it aloud, but...had it been him who'd been found and tended to by reader, azure couldn't be sure he wouldn't have made the same choice as his brothers.

[isanesshilarity]

Spoilers for Medalist 59+60, just a post-chapter rambling, DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE AVOIDING SPOILERS FOR THE NEWEST CHAPTERS.

To be honest, when I saw the chapter preview for 59 I thought it was gonna be like, a smooth skate for Inori and she leaves early to see Iruka... I THOUGHT the panels were Inori exiting the hospital and Hikaru all anxious looking because of the results of their skate.

What instead happens is more heartwrenching than I ever could've imagined. BUT BY GOD THE YURI. THE RIVALRY. ITS SO REAL. IT REALLY IS THAT SERIOUS TO THEM BOTH.

THE COMPOSITION, THE LIGHT, THE WORLD THAT ONLY EXISTS TO THE TWO OF THEM.

Chapter 50 just leaves me speechless. This far we've seen Hikaru try to cope with heavy changes to her life: a change in clubs and complete upheaval in social heirarchy, no longer staying with her family, and even a recent injury. In her attempts to find normalcy, she's using black and white thinking: if I don't win gold, I promised I'd quit and Yodaka Jun would stop coaching me. Yodaka Jun believes in sacrifices, so I will give everything up to see what he meant by those words.

For Inori to mean something to me, for her to enchant me, she must be a similar lifeform to Yodaka Jun.

While I can say this whole arc makes Hikaru one of my favourite female characters ever written of all time, this arc is meant to illustrate one simple point: that Hikaru wouldn't be the skater she is without Inori. To the point that Hikaru, whose motivation to skate was to "see (the world) that Yodaka Jun sees", has finally decided:

"Today, I am breaking out of the cage."

I don't think there could've been a more meaningful chapter 50 to start the new year with. Medalist is so chock full of story that it's almost hard for me to believe there's not even a hundred chapters already, but it's definitely because sensei gets done in two chapters what would've taken an SJ cunt 10.

I've seen it pointed out that at the moment, Inori is surrounded by people who love and support her, while Hikaru has nobody. It was meant as a joke, but it's really one of the main themes of this arc: Hikaru and Yodaka Jun, sacrificing family, comfort, personhood to earn gold. Tsukasa, who doesn't believe that Inori has to sacrifice her life to win gold, and Inori, who asked: am I too pampered? Isn't this cheating? For Iruka to reassure her that it's perfectly fine for her to be the way she is, that she was also a skater who bloomed after she was loved, only for Iruka to get injured and Inori to perform probably the worst she's ever done it. Now it's Hikaru's turn to pluck the fruits of her labor: can the new her continue to captivate Inori?

Very intense, and I'm very excited for Hikaru to be proactive for her own sake: to prove her existence to Inori, and continue to bewitch the only other girl in her world. While it's been so funny to see other skaters mitigate their interactions (because they misunderstand Inori and Hikaru and think they'll, what, start a catfight? LOL) it makes it all the more endearing and refreshing when they get to do what they've always done: be completely head over heels and psycho about each other. Ahh, I'm so excited for the future chapters. 10000/10, Hikaru is so smitten with Inori it's soooooo cute.

[the-music-maniac]

Because of this,I have a cracky ff7 fanfic idea. Or just a funny idea in general. This is legitimately one of the stupidest things I've ever thought up. Do not take it seriously. I haven't slept in two days.

I didn't play all the games yet so if this is inaccurate don't come at me. It's supposed to be stupid anyways lol.

I'm gonna say this happens before Sephiroth kills Aerith cause I love her, so this is the time when all his damn clones are running around tryna get the black materia. Meteor hasn't happened yet.

There's a portion of the population post Nibelheim that form a cult surrounding worshiping Jenova (alien, trying to summon a meteor, lauds themselves as a god, low hanging fruit here. And before you try to tell me it wouldn't happen I want you to look me direct in the eyeballs and try and tell me there aren't people that would worship the source of their own destruction) They also have a following for Sephiroth since Jenova kinda just operates through him. There is a question of how they know about Jenova bc I don't actually think the general population is super aware of what's happening as it's going on, so like. Let's just say hearsay and misinformation and stuff about the promised land blah blah, creates an inaccurate picture.

A bunch of things occur in succession, including but not limited to:

1. The rapid spread of wildly inaccurate origin stories of Jenova and Sephiroth that people argue over. The actual origin story is deemed as the most inaccurate of them all. Literally no one in the cult believes this one, even though there is evidence. This both confuses and annoys Cloud and Co., who should theoretically be the ones to consult on this, but sure whatever, believe the guy who hasn't showered in five days with a tinfoil hat on over the group trying to save the planet.

2. People start passing out hilarious pamphlets and flyers on the street. While the notion of the cult is infuriating, most people just view these individuals as crazy and ignore them. The cult doesn't exactly hide that they think a meteor would somehow lead them to the promised land. The pamphlets have hilarious depictions of what Jenova supposedly looked like. This is sometimes accompanied by a picture of Sephiroth that was clearly cut from old Shinra propaganda posters and haphazardly glued into the pamphlets.

3. This happens during one of the lulls when Sephiroth is off doing his own shit. He isn't aware there is a cult initially.

4. Sephiroth is bewilderingly uncomfortable with the weird cult and very confused as to why they remind him of the silver elite cough cough not that he remembers. He would like to just kill them all and be done with it. Jenova does not let him, because she thinks they might come in handy. Son, if they are willing to hand us this planet why would you turn them against you? Make this easy for yourself. Sephiroth does not pout or whine about this. He does not.

5. More people join the weird cult. It is purely because Sephiroth is hot.

6. The rapid growth of the weird cult starts to actually hinder Sephiroth's ability to get shit done. He's monologuing at Cloud, one of the members interrupts his speech to pledge eternal devotion to him. Can he kill the guy? No, mother says get him to do your bidding. He needs to socialize more, you catch more flies with honey. Why though, he's perfectly damn capable of doing his own bidding thank you very much. Cloud is hovering awkwardly because his Zack instincts are telling him it's poor etiquette to stab a guy when he's trying to shake someone off the hem of his cloak.

7. Shampoo and conditioner sales spike sharply. Supposedly the cult found the old files compiled by the silver elite. Go figure

8. Half the members of the cult seem weirdly keen on helping Cloud due to Sephiroth's fixation on him. The other half is passive aggressive (jealous???), but harmless otherwise. Cloud's not sure how to react to this, so he just chooses to not deal with it entirely.

9. Mother, please just let him get rid of some of them. Like. 30% of them at least.

10. People start selling merch. There are posters. There are donation boxes. There are more godforsaken pamphlets.

11. Very little of the cult is educated on materia use or knows what the black materia looks like so their helpfulness is minimum. They keep handing Sephiroth black rocks. He's still not allowed to kill them.

12. Back in my day I managed to wipe out the Cetra by convincing them I was on their side blah blah. Sephiroth does not care. Someone just chucked a black rock at his head because he was flying and they couldn't reach him to hand it over.

13. Aerith, the person who actually has any form of connection to a goddess, finds this entire thing hilarious. She keeps taking the damn pamphlets that members hand to her. Cloud's convinced she's collecting them now. Like trading cards.

14. Sephiroth murders President Shinra. This information gets out somehow. Now all of the cult is convinced Shinra is the root of all evil and is hellbent on ensuring its downfall. Barret and Yuffie begin to look at the pamphlets with a worrying amount of wary consideration in the eyes. Sephiroth frankly couldn't care less about the details but it is kinda nice that they're trashing it all on his behalf.

15. A Sephiroth bodypillow goes into circulation. Call Seph old fashioned but he's pretty sure that's a form of blasphemy. Is this how people treat Gods? Maybe he's quite fine not becoming one. He's still not sure how people are finding this many black rocks to give to him. Some appear to be going with the principle of 'size does matter' and have attempted to give him black boulders. Wtf is he supposed to do with that.

16. Someone hands him a pot of pumpkin soup. Is it coincidence? Did this information survive somehow? Did some asshole tell the tabloids when Sephiroth was still Shinra's weapon? He doesn't know but now he's holding a damn pot of pumpkin soup with a blank expression on his face. It is obvious to everyone but him that he's trying not to cry. Cloud is once again hovering awkwardly in the background trying not to show how uncomfortable he is with the entire situation.

-----

I want to make it clear that this isn't some ploy for the cult to help out Cloud and Co. under the guise of worshiping Jenova. No. They are genuine in all of this. They truly believe they're helping. And it's fucking up all of Sephiroth's plans in the most hilarious way. He feels like he's been saddled with a group project with a bunch of incompetent teammates. Not unlike how he felt anytime he did paperwork in Shinra.

And I dunno how it happens but somehow this leads to Jenova being destroyed and the planet being saved.

And also Sephiroth being saved. I don't care if it doesn't make sense, or if he deserves it, I want him to be happy. This is my idiotic crack post, it is happening.

Btw despite the origins of this idea, I'm not making a commentary on real life religious groups and/or cults so don't take this post as such.

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Riddle Rosehearts - Beach Wear Vignette

Riddle: Hm…?

Riddle: It's rather refreshing to be woken up by the sound of lapping waves. And the others are…

Everyone: Snooore… Zzzzzz…

Riddle: It looks like they're all still asleep. …Well, since I'm awake, I suppose I'll step outside for some air.

[Uninhabited Island – Beach]

Riddle: The ocean stretches on forever. This doesn't feel real at all, but we really are stranded here…

Riddle: I wonder if Trey, Cater and the others have started to worry? What about my mother…?

Riddle: …

Lilia: Why're you just gazing off towards the ocean like that, is something wrong?

Riddle: Oh, Lilia-senpai. No, not really…

Riddle: My daily routine every morning was to wake up before all my other dormmates and patrol the dormitory, before ironing my shirts.

Riddle: Ever since coming here, I haven't needed to do either. That's why I'm not sure what I should do.

Lilia: It's good that you're so studious. But I think it'd be fine if you relax a little and enjoy the moment, too.

Riddle: Relax, you say… Even if you were to tell me that, it's difficult to bring myself to waste my time doing absolutely nothing productive.

Lilia: Hm, I see. I guess that's very much like you… OH, I GOT IT!

Lilia: I had a great idea. After we all eat breakfast, do a quick patrol and gather more provisions, we should meet back here on this beach!

Riddle: What do you plan on doing?

Lilia: That's for you to see later. Kufufu!

Lilia: ―So, here we have it, folks!

Lilia: THE FIRST EVER SUMMER BEACH FLAG TOURNAMENT BEGINS NOW～～!!

Riddle: Beach Flags… They say this competition originated from the training that surf lifesavers did.

Riddle: The runners would lay face down on the starting line with their backs towards the flags, and upon the given signal, would run towards the flags.

Riddle: If I recall, the rule was that there was one less flag than the number of runners, and the one who could not capture a flag would be eliminated.

Lilia: You know your stuff, have you done it before?

Riddle: It was the theme of a crossword that was in the appendix of one of my study materials. So I do have some knowledge of it, however I've never tried it…

Lilia: This isn't just a game. We are all stranded on a deserted island in the middle of the ocean… There's no telling when we could all fall prey to danger.

Lilia: So basically, we'll use this sport to train ourselves, both mentally and physically. However…

Lilia: Since it wouldn't be fun just running, I've prepared for everyone a rather splendid prize! The winner will get...

Lilia: Floyd's Super Deluxe ☆ Special Fruit Parfait!

Everyone: PARFAIT!?

Ace: I totally didn't wanna run, but… I definitely want to eat that super deluxe parfait!

Azul: Floyd's excellently whipped-up creations may be great additions to the Mostro Lounge menu…

Jack: I don't really care about parfaits, but… There's no way I can let myself lose in a competition.

Floyd: Aha! What, you all think you're gonna get to dig in? Obviously, I'm gonna be the winner!

Riddle: A parfait! …Ahem. If this is to be training, I shall have to focus up properly.

Grim: I wanna eat the parfait already! Lilia! Let's get this show on the road!

Stitch: Yeehaw!

Lilia: Everyone's so fired up! Alright, let's begin! Reaaaaaadddyyy…

[blows whistle]

[Uninhabited Island – Beach]

Everyone: RAAAAH!!

[CRAAAASH!!]

Riddle: A-Ack!? Everyone just dove at the sand face first!? You're all covered in sand. Are you alright, Ace!?

Ace: The sand's real smooth, so I'm totally fine. 'Sides, Beach Flags is just supposed to be for fun, anyway.

Riddle: Eh, you're enjoying being covered in sand!?

Lilia: The lifesaver's mission is, just as they're called, to save lives. In order to do that, they must be prepared to fly towards the target without any hesitation.

Lilia: Therefore, it wouldn't be wrong to say that diving into the sand with great vigor is just another rule of this competition! It can be a necessity in times of emergency!

Riddle: It's a rule!? I-I understand. If it is a rule, then I shall also jump forth.

Ace: …Was there actually a rule like that in Beach Flags?

Lilia: This is more fun… I mean, more exciting. Alright, we're starting the next round!

[blows whistle]

[running, sliding]

Riddle: I captured a flag! Oh… Right, I was supposed to dive into the sand. Hup!

Floyd: Goldfish-chan, that's hilarious that you're just flopping yourself into the sand after you grabbed a flag! You make no sense!

Riddle: W-Well, I can't figure out how to slide.

Floyd: You just gotta go for it, like how you'd jump into the water. Like, this!

Riddle: What are you even saying? When entering a body of water, you need to first shower yourself with the water, let your body get used to the temperature, and step in one foot at a time!

Lilia: Hrrm, he's a hard-headed one. ALRIGHT, NEXT!

[blows whistle]

Riddle: This time, I'll definitely get it right… HIYAH!

Azul: Wha―! Riddle-san just slid into the goal and grabbed the flag with his foot!?

Riddle: I concluded that it is more difficult to dive into the sand face first. There is no rule against capturing the flag with your feet, now is there?

Ace: I mean, it's technically not against the rules, or anything… But shouldn't that actually be harder to do!?

Lilia: Alllright, it's really starting to heat up! Next!

[blows whistle]

Lilia: After so many bouts of fiery competition that could dry up a whole ocean… Finally, we come to the championship round! The two remaining contestants are…

Lilia: Jack, the supernova of the track and field club, who has been capturing the flags with his beautiful running posture and spirited diving!

Lilia: And Riddle, the rose-red ruler of Heartslabyul who has somehow continued to win, despite never successfully diving into the sand!

Lilia: Any comments from the rest of you, who have all been eliminated while trying to sabotage and drag each other down?

Ace: I mean, I don't think even my Housewarden'll be able to beat Jack…

Azul: There is an overwhelming difference in physical stature. And since magic is forbidden, he may not have much of a chance to win.

Grim: Both of you do your best～! And then give me a bite of your parfait when you win～!

1. Do your best, you two! 2. Share your parfait with meee～!

Lilia: Kufufu… No one can predict what may happen. Monsters lurk everywhere on this summery beach.

Floyd: …Hmm～? Those shells by Sea Urchin-chan's feet… Are those…

Lilia: Alright, here we go! Both of you get ready… Seeeet!

[blows whistle]

Jack/Riddle: RAAAAH!!

[rustle, rustle]

Jack: Ack, what's happening!? All the shells around my feet are starting to move… Were these hermit crabs that were hiding under the sand!?

Riddle: HAAAAH!

[CRAAASH!]

Floyd/Lilia: HE FINALLY DOVE IN FACE FIRST―――!

Azul: The sand is flying everywhere… Such momentum! Does he not know what moderation means?

Riddle: …Bleagh! Cough, cough! Th-There's sand all in my mouth… But, I finally was able to dive into the sand!

Riddle: And I captured the flag! Yes! I won! Did you see that, Ace!?

Ace: Yeah, yeah, I saw you, Housewarden. Gooood job!

Ace: Maaan. Look at him covered in sand and jumping for joy… If any of our dormmates saw this, they'd flip their lids.

Jack: That was due to the course being faulty! I demand a remat… Meh, I guess it's ridiculous to get worked up over a silly game like this.

Jack: I guess having the hermit crabs jump in is just another part of it being summer.

Floyd: Mmkay, so to our winning Goldfish-chan, here's Floyd's Super Deluxe Special Fruit Parfait ♪

Lilia: And for the rest of the participants, you'll get a special sundae for your valiant efforts! Let's all go eat!

Everyone: YAAY! HOORAY!

Riddle: This is the first time I've ever been covered in this much sand. But… Heh, this isn't too terrible.

Stitch: Ehe!

Riddle: Ah, hey! Stitch! This is my parfait! If you try to snatch it from me, it will be off with your head!

Stitch: Yahahaha!

Requested by @dida-books.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

I would love to have a King x reader (female reader if you are ok with that) where the reader is a mythical zoan type very similar to Kaido’s mythical zoan but because it was a fruit made by Dr Vegaounk, the reader ends up with a dark green dragon instead. King’s just infatuated with the reader and the reader knows it but won’t say anything. The reader is fairly new to the Beast Pirates and Kaido puts King in charge of making the reader feel welcome. Thanks in advance if you are able to do this!!

Imagine having a dragon smile fruit

This led me down an interesting line of thought. How would King act around his crush. He's a deeply traumatized individual, but he hides it well. King has like zero emotional intelligence, he never learned how to really deal with them. Also, I'm making the reader around the same size as King for reasons.

This ended up being kinda long.

Kaido: I'm told you have a devil fruit.

You: it's a smile fruit, sir, Dr. Vegapunk made it for me.

Kaido: Vegapunk *casts a glance at king, but can't see his emotions due to that damn mask* when did he make it for you?

You: a few years back upon my request, he owed me a favor.

Kaido: may I see?

You: we'll need to go outside, I would hate to destroy your lovely house.

Kaido: Ookay?

Outside

You: *transforms into a large emerald green dragon with pitch black fur, talons, and horns.*

Kaido: Worororo, we're gonna be unstoppable!

King: ( 💖0💖 ) !!

You: So I can get settled in?

Kaido: yes, Queen! Get their rooms ready, put them in the east wind of my castle.

You: absolutely not, I refuse to work with Queen, he's annoying.

Queen: EHH! Annoying! Who are you calling an idiot, you moron. You wanna go! *Starts to climb up on one of the coils of your body*

You: *flicks him off* And loud.

Queen: *skips like a rock over the ocean towards mainland Wano and disappears with a twinkle*

Kaido: Would you prefer Jack?

You: Jack is too unpredictable, plus I'm not a fan of the baby bangs he's sporting, they make me wanna bully him. King seems tolerable though, he's quiet which is preferable if I have to deal with a man.

King: 😱💢

Kaido: Very well, wouldn't want you to lose your temper and kill one of them. I need all three of them... well actually with you here, I might not.

You: I don't want a position of responsibility, those usually come with a lot of paperwork. I want money, food, a place to crash, and to fight, and when I’m not doing any of those to lounge in comfort.

Kaido: and you shall have anything you desire. King take them to the Black Tortoise wing.

King: I think they'd appreciate the views and quiet of the Blue Halls in the Vermilion Bird wing. You yourself once told me your dragon enjoys the open sky.

Kaido: how thoughtful King, to share your Vermilion Bird wing with our new recruit.

King: such a valuable member of the crew deserves the best we have to offer, especially one with a power so similar to your own.

Kaido: then can I trust them to you?

King: Of course.

The next day

King: how are you liking the Blue hall? Is it to your liking?

You: It's almost perfect, it just needs some personal touches.

King: I'll set up an appointment for our artisans to come over to receive instructions on what you want.

You: don't you have an assistant for that?

King: no? Are you volunteering?

You: hmm, only when I'm bored.

King: very well, in the meantime care to join me for a training session in the gym? *Hoping to show off his strength and physique for you*

You: Sure, let me change into something more breathable.

At the gym

King: would you spot me?

You: sure?

King: *lifting way more weight than he usually does while trying to keep his face as neutral as possible.*

You: *not sure how you'd be of any help to him if he actually needed help*

Queen: *leans over to Jack to shit talk* is it me, or is that feather-brained idiot trying to impress the newbie?

Jack: Yeah, he's even puffing up his wings and fire to make himself appear bigger.

Maria: right? And you you see the way he looks at them.

Queen: he's clearly displacing his affections for Kaido on them, probably they're more attainable to him than Kaido.

Kaido: *leans in* he's just not my type what can I say? Although, he does have those big titties like I like.

You: I'm gonna go get a water bottle, you want one?

King: sure *waits for you to leave before turning to his crew members* what the fuck are you jack asses whispering about over there?

Queen: You like (y/n) right?

King: what? No, they just got here, I don't even know them.

Kaido: she doth protest too much, methinks.

King: ugh, you all are seeing things.

Maria: yeah, we see you making bedroom eyes at (y/n).

Queen: Don't act like you're not, look at yourself, you're all puffed up like you're a horny teenager all over again.

King: *flattens his feathers* shut up dickhead.

You: *comes back in the room* I got us a few waters!

King: *puffs up again and realizes they're right.

Yamato: *peaking out from one of the floorboards* that explain why he wanted them in the Vermilion Bird wing with him.

King: *Puts his foot on the board and pushes it down*

That evening after dinner

Kaido: did we really upset you earlier? You seem like you're still... huffy like you were in the gym.

King: I'm disgusted with myself for being attracted to a human.

Kaido: *nods his head empathetically* I know the feeling bud. From what information that I have gathered about them, they seem like a decent human. They were once instrumental in the escape of a slave rebellion in the Ballywood Kingdom and Vodka Kingdom. Both of which were predominately composed of non-humans.

King: really?

Jack: yeah, they came to us through a recommendation of one of contacts in the Ryugu Kingdom.

You: wha'cha talking about?

King: *puffs up and feels his embarrassment and panic well up in his chest* Nothing!

You: *squints at him in suspicion* Really? Because I don't believe you.

King: Are you calling me a liar?

You: I ain't callin' you a truther, big man. Now spill the beans, what were y'all whispering about?

King: *his heart flutters happily when you call him 'big man' * Kaido told us you helped in some slave rebellions.

You: Oh yeah, I have quite a few tales from that time of my life.

King: If we're going to work together we should know more about you. So if you wouldn't mind, could you tell us those stories?

Kaido: *subtly gives him an encouraging slap on the back and a wink*

Queen: *whispers* fuckin' simp!

King: *makes Queen's cigar erupt in fire*

List of Up-and-coming works

Support me on Kofi and Patreon

[your-divine-ribs]

Breathe

Words: 1.2k

Request from these NSFW prompts: 65. “I know baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe” // and this ask I received which I’ve copied below // sorry it’s short and a bit crap I’m struggling to write new stuff at the moment xxx

I was thinking a really intense session with Van, like say you’ve just had a really shitty day and want a release and Van just wants to take care of you and distract you. Properly pin you down and have a safe word and everything, and you’re nearly going into subspace, crying at the pleasure and he’s just hovering above you one hand on your cheek getting him to focus on him while he makes you cum again and again and again.

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

Van was a perfectionist and very thorough in everything that he did, so when you approached him that evening in your melancholy mood, telling him that you wanted to forget all about your stresses and your woes just for one night, he was only too eager to try and help obliterate those troublesome worries from your overwrought mind...

"I know you got one more in you babe. Just breathe through it, c'mon... focus on me. You feel unbelievable."

He's hovering over you, slick with sweat, pumping into you at a maddening pace, doggedly determined in his endeavour to fuck every last scrap of worry out of your head, just like you'd begged him to.

You've lost track of how many times he's made you come, how many times he's built up your pleasure nice and slow, hot sticky waves of euphoria that mount and mount uncontrollably until he tips you carelessly over the edge into a void of mind-shattering bliss.

He'd started off using his fingers and tongue, probing into every wet inch of you, spreading you wide so he could take his fill, pinning your juddering body down as you'd bucked and whined helplessly beneath him. Now he's fucking into you slow and deep and steady, your cunt so wet and swollen like an over-ripe fruit, dripping with the sweetest nectar that he'd coaxed from you time and time again until you thought you might shatter into a million pieces.

"I can't... I don't think I can... not again... please... oh god please..."

Your words are stuttered and choked, punctuated by pitiful whines and gasps, your head lolling from side to side on the sweat dampened pillow as heat churns in your core like molten lava. Despite your impassioned pleas your legs are still wrapped tightly around his slim hips, heels pressed into the small of his back, keeping him close.

It's your overstimulated body that's begging him for mercy, your hips trying to instinctively retreat from his insistent thrusts as your body shudders uncontrollably. Your mind's on another page entirely, the dark and twisted part of you that relishes being completely under his control. He knows this of course, it's the reason you have a safe word for occasions like this.

"You're doing so good for me love," he praises, soft and sweet, words like honey oozing into your pleasure-saturated mind. "You're so fucking pretty like this... but we can stop if it's too much? What colour are you? It's important you tell me... green or red?"

He's braced above you with his elbows on either side of your head, your writhing body pressed into the mattress by his body weight, his lust laden gaze never faltering as it bores into yours.

"G... green," you stammer, tears pricking at your lashes and blurring your vision. You whimper as his hips snap up against yours, driving his cock even deeper, his pelvis grinding deliciously against your over-sensitive bud.

"That's my good girl," he cooes down on you, a hand raising up to stroke tenderly over your hot, tear-stained cheeks. "You feel so good. Always so perfect f'me."

You're sure his favourite place to be in the whole world is right between your spread thighs, and you wouldn't have it any other way. He's addictive. No matter how much he gives you, you always want more. And he's always willing to give.

"You gonna come all over my cock pretty girl? Wanna feel you let go for me one more time."

You eagerly nod, and his hand drops back down to curl around the crook of your leg which he presses upwards between your two bodies, spreading you even wider for him.

"Ahh... fuck," you gasp, the new angle punching the breath from your lungs at every thrust, the friction on your tender clit sore but blissful, mind-numbingly so.

You're beautiful like this he thinks, skin hot and flushed, sticky with the heat of your arousal, eyes wide and glossy, unfocused and brimming with tears. It's all because of him, and he can't get enough of that fact, an arrogant smirk stretching wide on his lips when you whine like you can't take any more. He wishes he could take a snap-shot of you like this and commit it to memory forever.

"Van... please," you croak out, your voice hoarse and cracked, not even sure what you're begging for.

You're in danger of becoming totally lost, incapable of any coherent thoughts apart from the dizzying pleasure that soaks your fucked out brain. The air around you is a furnace, chokingly thick and sticky, heady with the scent of sex. The sharp slap of his hips clashing with yours and the obscenely soaked sound of your sopping pussy fill your ears. It heightens everything, your mind spinning away to a hazy realm of pure sensation. And he's right there with you, ever watchful and ever mindful, guiding you through each high, not letting you lose your focus.

"I know, baby, I know. I'm right here, just breathe. Look at me... don't close your eyes now. I wanna see you... stay with me."

And at that moment you feel the coil in your core snap once again, a raw groan spilling from your lips as bright white stars burst across your field of vision, your pussy fluttering and clenching around him, squeezing him tight. Every muscle in your body tenses and shakes, your finger-nails digging tiny furrows deep into the skin of his back. You cry out his name again, hear him hiss out curses as he finds his own release, his expression creased in euphoria.

"Fucking hell, that was unreal," he groans as his hips finally stutter to a stop, his eyes dark and hungry as he looks down at you in awe. He untangles himself from your limb so he can cup your face in his hands, thumbs gently brushing away your tears. "Love you so much babe. Are ya okay? Are ya feeling better now?"

He eyes you carefully as he gently shunts his hips back to slip out of you. His skin's all tacky and sticky with sweat as his body slides over yours and he pauses, hovering there again, his gold chain dangling in the space between you and catching the dim lamplight as it twirls.

"Mmm..." you hum dreamily, catching the small semi-circular pendant between your fingers as you gaze up at him, sleepy and hazy-eyed, satisfied and worn in a way that you feel your limbs might melt into the comforting softness of your mattress. "So much better. Can't even remember what I was feeling stressed about in the first place now if you must know."

He chuckles at that, hair all shaggy and mussed, falling messily around his handsome face. "It wasn't too much for you then?"

"Maybe I like it when you're too much."

"Oh really? You want more then? Because that's a service I can certainly provide." He leans over to kiss you and his eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed when he pulls back. He looks inebriated… woozy… drunk on love.

"You're not actually serious are you?"

Your voice comes out high-pitched in disbelief as you look up at him, watch the slow, teasing smile spread on his lips.

"Never been more serious babe. You know how it goes when it comes to you... you know I'm up for anything. Anything that you need... I'm yours any time you want.”