#oh and remember: we get a break after this

[salemrph]

Wine, Lies and Longing

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

Based on the new banner Night Rendezvous!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Couple? Let me check..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Working” you lie.

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

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

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

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

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

“I see...” you murmur.

“What are you planning to do?”

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

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

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

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

“Alright. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, kitten.”

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don´t have to call me that”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you two married?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you” you say a bit shy.

“No need.”

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

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

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

“Mm-hmm” you hum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taking them off. Lift your leg.”

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

“This feels better, thanks” you say softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sy..Sylus” you moan. “More...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[zepskies]

Hi Zep!! I love your writing so much!

How do you think Dean/Beau/ Ben would react to a surprise pregnancy and if the reader was unsure of keeping it?

Hi there! Aw thank you, anon. 💜

I know you asked me this a while back, but to be honest this is a touchy subject, so I wasn't sure if I wanted to answer it. All I can do is give my honest thoughts based on what I know of these three characters, with all their flaws and personality traits and humanity that goes along with that.

Headcanon: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to a surprise pregnancy.

(And if you weren't sure about keeping it.)

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff.

Dean Winchester

Once Dean gets past the initial shock, and the inevitable "how did this happen??!", he remembers just how he could've gotten you pregnant. Part of him wants to smile at the memory.

Good times.

He slowly realizes that he's...he's happy.

He never thought that he'd have any piece of "normal" after the way things ended with Lisa. Hell, he never thought he'd find what he had with you, let alone have a kid.

He hasn't told you this, because he's locked it deep within himself and hasn't allowed himself to open that door, but the part of Dean that considered what he would leave behind on this earth if he died--the part of him that wanted a family, is still there, beating in his heart. Maybe now he's finally getting his chance.

But he focuses on you.

He gauges your reaction, and his urge to smile falls away when he realizes you're more nervous and freaked out than excited.

Dean sits down with you, taking your hands to calm you down. He suppresses his own feelings on this for a moment, and he asks you the important question.

"What do you wanna do?"

You look up into his eyes, and you really don't know. The hunting lifestyle you both lead, how can you bring a child into this? Would that be right? Are you even ready to be a mom? Are you even capable?

"I don't know if I can..." you confess. "Dean, I don't know if I'm ready."

It breaks Dean's heart, though he tries not to show it.

For once, he thinks hard about what he's going to say next.

Eventually, he takes a deep breath and squeezes your hands.

"I get it," he says. "Whatever you want to do here, I'll back you up. But for the record, I'm right here with you. I might be screwed to hell in ways that I can't even...but I got no doubts about you, sweetheart. And I know we could do this together..."

If that's what you want. The rest is implied through his eyes. You read it there, clear as day.

You try blinking your tears away. When that fails, you sink into Dean's warm embrace and let him hold you. You press a lingering kiss against his prickly cheek in a wordless thank you. And I love you.

For now, you know that he's with you, and he's not going to let you go.

Beau Arlen

Like Dean, Beau would go through similar rounds of Oh, dear sweet Lord, and holy shit.

He thought you and him had been careful, damn it! But, apparently he's more potent than he thought he was.

For a few moments, it's just pure unadulterated silence between you two...until he looks over at you and tries to figure out what you're thinking.

He's got a half-grown daughter, sixteen going on seventeen. He's approaching his mid-40s. He hadn't even been thinking about the possibility of another kid...at least not yet.

Though he can admit, the thought of having kids with you makes him smile.

"So, uh..." he trails, earning your teary-eyed expression. He softens. "Aw, darlin'. Come 'ere."

He wraps you up in his arms and holds you close. You bury your face into his neck and sniffle, holding onto him tightly.

You love Beau. You truly, truly do, but you don't know if you're ready for this. You had plans, things you wanted to do, things you feel you have to do.

"I don't know, Beau. I don't know what to do," you admit. You don't want to hurt him, even though you know that you are. You can see it in his eyes when you pull back to look at him, though he tries to hide it.

"I'm not going anywhere. You know that, right?" he says. His voice is low and steady. He rubs your back to try and calm you down.

It starts to work. You nod and heave a shaky sigh.

Then you steel yourself, and you work past the fear making your chest tight to ask him an important question.

"What if I tell you that I'm not ready?" you ask.

For once in his life, Beau is quiet. He takes a long beat. So long that your heart begins to break.

But he does answer.

"Then I'd tell you...that I love you," he says. "That I'm with you. That I'll be with you, come whatever. But I gotta tell you...I got no problem being an old-ass dad. If I've got double-knee replacements in my future, then that's just what I gotta do. I'll break my hand building the crib and the porch swing. Hell, I'll build a whole damn tree house."

You can't help but break into giggles through your tears, in the way only Beau manages to accomplish. You stroke his cheek and rest easier against him.

Your heart eases quite a lot just being in Beau's supportive embrace.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Ben isn't all that shocked when you tell him that you're pregnant.

His surprise quickly fades into a pleased grin, and he pulls you into his lap to kiss you. Fucking finally...

But he stops short, realizing that you're not as happy as he expected you to be. Actually, you look anxious, and even scared.

"What's the matter?" he asks, his voice deep and direct.

You hesitate to meet his gaze, but you gain the courage to do so, resting a hand on his chest.

"Ben, I wanted to be honest with you, and so I am. I'm just...I'm not sure about this."

His brows furrow. "What's not to be sure about?"

Your gaze drops from his, making him frown. Upset begin to rise in his chest, disguised as anger. When you rise to get off his lap, he grasps your hand to stop you from walking away from him.

"Hey..." But then it hits him. The realization dawns, and deep inside, it hurts him. "You better not be saying what I think you're fucking saying."

Tears begin to well up in your eyes. Your heart clenches tight in pain just watching him work it out in his mind. You try to tug your hand out of his.

"Ben, please. Don't make this harder for me--"

He stands, but doesn't let go of you.

"What, you think I won't take care of you? You think I wouldn't take care of my own kid?" he says angrily.

"That's not it!" you say, shaking your head. "I just need some time to think, for Christ's sake!"

"What's there to think about? If you give a shit about us, about what we have? What, all of that isn't fucking good enough for you?" Ben says incredulously, gesturing at the home you two live in, and the life he thought you were happy with. "What the fuck is the problem?"

You look up at him in frustration with tears in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks. You shake your head at him.

This," you say. "This is the problem."

This time, when you tug sharply against his hold, Ben actually lets you go. You walk away from him and slam the door to your bedroom.

Ben just stands there for a while. The silence is only broken when he can hear you in the bedroom, trying to muffle your weeping.

Something unsavory churns in Ben's chest, squeezing tight around his heart. It's the sting of regret, both unfamiliar and irritating.

Blowing out a sigh, Ben cards his fingers through his hair. He can either stand here like an idiot, or he can do something worthwhile.

He goes to you. You haven't locked the door (not that that would matter), so he opens it. He sees you burrowed under the covers, laying on your side away from him. You turn away from him again when he approaches.

Almost hesitantly, he sits down beside you, smoothing a hand over your hair.

"Sweetheart, you're gonna have everything you need. You don't need to worry about anything," he says.

"I told you, it's not about that," you say sharply. "It's not about money, or being comfortable."

Ben endeavors to be calm. He counts to five in his mind, then he squeezes your shoulder, taking pains to be gentle.

"Then what's it about?"

After a beat, you finally turn around to face him.

"I just don't know if I'm ready for this," you admit. "We haven't been together that long, and I..."

Ben shakes his head. He strokes your cheek with his thumb.

"Don't worry about that," he says. He hesitates to say anything more.

The truth is, he cares about you more than he's been willing to express. The thought of you leaving him, or even not going through with this pregnancy--both cut him down to the bone.

Is it that you don't trust him? Do you not trust yourself? He doesn't understand all of what's in your head, but if the reason you're not sure about having his kid really is because of him, then...

His curled fingers brush along your jaw and prop under your chin, until your eyes meet his.

"Look, whatever reservations you have about me, just know this," he says. "I'm not going anywhere."

You sigh softly. You know how long Ben has wanted to be a father. You know he wants a family. You don't want to take that away from him, but you also need to protect yourself.

You consider his words carefully, as well as his face, and you see that he actually means it. You believe him.

It doesn't take away other concerns you have, but it's a start.

You sit up in bed, letting the sheets slip away from you. You reach up a hand to cup his bearded cheek.

He lets you guide him down to kiss you, his arm wrapping around you strong, but noticeably gentle. Tears sting behind your closed eyelids.

Maybe he is ready to be a father, and a better man.

AN: 😮‍💨 This one was angsty, huh? I think Ben's part was the one that held me up the most. It still assumes he's had some character growth from having a "real," actually caring relationship, but I tried not to sugarcoat what I think his reaction would be.

Let me know what you think! 💜

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[red-phantom-0]

The children are dead

pt 2 of Damien x Ghoul.sib reader

──► as the two siblings grow ever so closer bonded by the cold love of their 'adopted' family and the monstrosity of their past , life throws them another unyielding cruelty that breaks them both entirely.

Tw : major character death , child neglect , revenge

Edit ty for 42 likes !!

part 1

I'm done dreaming.

ACT I

It was late December , the air around the manor was grim and chilly , nothing but haunting and a grim reminder that life was harsh and would never be easy. Damien clenches his fingers within his gloves as he attempts to soak up what little warmth he had.

Bruce and his other siblings stood before him in the patio , discussing events pertaining to last night's stake out. Damien tunes out their annoying , scratchy voices, but his eyes trained to every other possible corner of the room searching for them.

The grandfather ticks by, and the conversation turns dull , he had to hold himself exactly ten times from clawing Dick's eyes out whenever he'd call him a demon spwan or ask him who he's planning to kill. He's at his bloody wits until he see y/n's figure limping in.

Damien pushes back his chair and immediately launches himself towards them. They didn't have to convey words as his eyes already gave away how bloody worried he was with them. He can hear Bruce and the others calling him back, but he can't give a bloody damn about them right now.

He watches as y/n's bloody form lean against the doorframe as they slide to the ground like a limp leaf . Damien kneels with them and place his hand on their bleeding stomach - it was a big gash like a vicious creature took a bite out of them.

" Oh my God, we need to get them to a doctor-" he could hear Stephanie say from behind him, and Damien has never unsheathed his sword any faster . " Shut the fuck up and leave them alone " he growled.

The last time y/n went to a doctor , the medicine they used on them caused them to turn into a ghoul for three days straight - for three days his precious sibling was forced to be driven to insanity as their ghoulish form fought with what little human control they had left to suppress themselves from consuming humans.

His poor sibling wore ghoulish scratch marks on their arms and cheeks for months after their attempt at manhandking themseleves . He can see in the distance Tim opening his big trap to give his unwanted opinion, and Damien sneered at him . His sibling couldn't heal from their medication in his own world , hell - no medication could heal them , they had to hope to God they regenerated fast enough.

" Fuck off Drake " he sneered before crouching before y/n once again.

" What happened ?" He questioned them as he pressed him hand onto their wound to stop the wound from gushing even more blood. " Ran into another ghoul - no - he was an investigator from my world that kills ghouls like me - the undefeated ghoul investigator , Arima," they explained through coughing fits.

Damien stilled. He now knew the gravity of how extremely grim the situation became , the white reaper of his siblings' universe has come to end their demise . He remembered y/n talking about him , about how Arima possessed superhuman strength and his immense 'hatred for ghouls' lead the man to kill hundreds if not thousands of ghouls in his 18 years of occupation.

Y/n gave him a small smile . " I'll be okay," they reassured him . Damien just held them as he ignored the outside world.

Oh, how he wished he didn't believe them that night .

ACT II

January 6th , the night was quiet, and still , the moon casted its opulence across the streets of Gotham. A simply routine was instilled tonight , everyone had a simple stake out tonight .

It was the first night in years Damien and y/n hadn't been with each other on a mission for years - something he'd live to regret later . He found it suspicious, but Bruce insisted he needed to join him tonight to test him out as Robin and y/n had persistently encouraged him to go.

So here he was following Bruce from rooftop to rooftop as they stalked some of Joker's henchmen . For the last hour or so , Damien had checked in on y/n , and they reported they were doing okay and had just arrested some petty thrives for the night.

The hour was coming to an end , and so far, everyone but y/n reported in . Damien grew anxious , and y/n was always a timely person, so for them to be late was entirely unheard of.

Bruce reassured him that they were fine but that didn't stop the nagging feeling in his stomach and it's not like Bruce ever cared about your existence to begin with - only cared you did what you had to do and the thought of it pissed him off.

Damien was now finishing up wrapping up his grappling hook when y/n's frantic voice buzzed through his intercom . " Help me - he's - come quick " came their frantic voice through the static. Damien felt dread weighing like lead through his veins as he clutched onto his own intercom.

" Y/n are you okay ? Where are you ?" He asked frantically but was only left with static. Damien immediately began to leave when Bruce stopped him.

" Damien y/n isn't important right now we have more important things to worry about " Bruce or rather batman says and he held his son by the shoulder . Damien harshly yanked it off . " Leave me the fuck alone - I am going to them and you aren't stopping me " He yells as he grappled off the roof.

Batman calls after him, but Damien ignores him as he grapples his way to the other side of Gotham city . His heart beats heavy in his chest as he appraches your last known location only to see the building left in ruin.

Blood splatters were everywhere, and ruins were left anew . " Y/N !!!!" He shouted as he grappled around the area , eyes frantically looking for your figure . He begs , prays to whatever God out there that you're safe as he continued further as he observes more buildings left to ruins.

Ruble covered the area as far as the eye can see , not a living soul in sight. Damien kept calling your name out , tears practically falling down his face as he continued searching.

Minutes ticked by dreadfully until he finally spots you. Your bloody figure lays there in a bed of red spider lillies. Damien lets out an ear, piercing scream at the sight . With shaky legs and arms, he approaches your figure . Your figure layed still as a gentle breeze blow, causing the spider lillies to brush up against your form like a warm blanket .

Damien holds your form with shaky hands as he keeps repeating no's over and over. Your dead brown human eye stared at him , soulless and unmoving while your beautiful red eye had a jaggery, long sword piercing right through it . Your right arm and both your legs were missing , but still - in the moonlight , you looked calm.

Damien grew quiet as he layed his head on your chest , no longer can he selfishly listen to your heartbeat and relish in the familiar love you bestowed upon him. No longer would he be able to share a laugh with you , your pain , your burdens , your bitter coffees to your exhilarating training.

He would no longer have any of those as now you lay dead , robbed from his safe embrace because life was too cruel and unforgiving and had to take away the one good thing he had his life.

He no longer felt angry at the world. No, he felt awake and mad . Be prepared , Gotham , for tonight two children died and your long awaited recogning is comming with nothing but cold , bitter , unforgiving blood shed.

A crow in the distance let out a war cry as Damien kisses your forehead one last time before the spider lillies cover your form one last time , shadong your innocence from the raging hell Damien is about to bestow upon the world.. A gentle breeze blows, and Damien unsheathes his sword, ready to bring destruction and ruin to the world.

dreaming world

prepare to be

awaken.

Part 3, anyone ?

[verycoolusername1]

You Laugh Exactly The Same

Summary: Everyone is back home for the holidays. It feels nothing has changed(if you take away the years)

Platonic!hughes brothers x reader, one mention of Nico Hischier x reader(jokingly) and mention of Quinn hughes x reader(once again a joke)

Bonus Track of the fruitcake masterlist - Holidays

A/N: My first platonic fic, how we feeling?? And why is this song lowkey kinda sad

Also, I didn't know how to end it, so sorry if the endings weird!!!

You were an honorary sibling in the hughes household. You practically grew up with them. They were your chosen family.

You shut your car door, suitcase in hand. As you smiled at the sight in front of you. The lake house, you've been coming here since your college days. Time flies when you're having fun it seems.

You were about to open the door when it opened for you, Luke, on the other side with the biggest grin on his face.

"Y/N's here!" He called out to his family before capturing you in a bone crushing hug.

Jack ran to the door, Quinn following behind.

"Dude, get off. You're crushing them." Jack tried to pull Luke off of you.

"Both of you are gonna crush them if you keep acting like that." Quinn smiled at the scene in front of him.

"Quinn's right. Off both of you." Ellen ordered.

Their arms were off you instantly at her words. You chuckled slightly.

"Barely got through the door, and you're already trying to kill me." You grinned as you moved towards your room.

The boys minus Quinn(for the moment) went after you.

"Are you two just gonna follow me around like a lost puppy the whole time?" You asked, turning around.

"We missed you in Jersey. Quinn got you all to himself this season." Luke grumbled.

"I was only there for work." You rolled your eyes.

"Well, it still doesn't make me feel better." Jack groaned as he flopped on the bed.

"Yeah, like, who knows what you could have done together!" Luke's face scrunched up in disgust. "Actually, don't think about that... ew."

"I'm choosing to ignore that because we're all friends here, and well, you know... Quinn's not my type." You put your clothes in the closet.

"Thank god!" Luke sighed.

Jack immediately perked up. "That's not true! Remember when we were fourteen and your baby crush on him?"

Your face flushed in embarrassment. "That was a long time ago!"

"Seems like the baby crush didn't go away." Luke mumbles.

"Alright, both of you, out right now." You dismissed them.

Jack and Luke laughed at your reaction before leaving the room, proud with themselves.

You continue to get settled in, satisfied with the progress.

"I thought I told you guys to leave me alone." You said, not bothering to look up.

Quinn chuckled. "You haven't told me anything at all, actually."

"Shit, sorry." You apologized. "Thought you were Jack and Luke."

Quinn leaned on the wall in amusement. "Well, I'm sure whatever they did can be redeemed."

You laughed at his words. "Yeah, I'm sure they'll just gladly accept doing everything for me the whole break."

"Well, I'd be glad to do that." Quinn immediately responds in a mumble.

You looked at him. "What did you say?"

"Oh uh nothing just you know gonna be lots of work for that." Quinn lied. "Maybe try the next best thing?"

"Oo hmm definitely letting me hookup with their captain, kinda hot don't you think?" You asked.

Quinn rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm not into guys, so I can't give you an exact opinion, but... he looks nice for his age. I don't know."

"You guys are literally the same age!" You chuckled.

Quinn chuckled alongside you. "Yeah, yeah, whatever... Are you coming down for the bonfire tonight or going to bed early?"

"Wouldn't miss seeing Jack getting caught on fire for the world." You yawned slightly as you nodded your head.

Quinn grinned at your words as he held out his hand for you to take. You did, of course.

The two of you went downstairs to the porch where Jack and Luke sat, Jim and Ellen leaving early with promises to come back early tomorrow.

"There you two are, we were dying out here." Jack exaggerates.

Luke nods in agreement. "You left us unsupervised!"

You shook your head as you sat down. "You both are adults and are or past 21."

"Let's be real. You and Quinn are the adults here." Luke said, Jack heavily agreeing.

Quinn merely shrugged. "It's the older sibling in us."

"You're only a couple months older than me, Y/n, not much to go off of." Jack nudged you.

You nudged him back. "I still think it's quite far."

Jack rolled his eyes as Luke and Quinn laughed at the interaction.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you two kept the fire alive." Quinn spoke up.

You chuckled slightly. "It's uh, you know, a survival instinct. Jack knows a lot about that."

Jack groaned. "That was one time!"

You burst out laughing at his words. "Probably the best day of my life."

Luke chuckled slightly before his eyes widened.

"We should make smores." Luke says. Quinn hummed in agreement.

It was moments like this with the boys that you loved the most, seeing them not having a care in the world and just enjoying themselves... even if it's at your own expense but nonetheless you loved them.

Many more laughs and smores were shared throughout the night, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

[deterioratingpisces]

Daniel Molloy, marriage councillor from hell.

He’s got a 98% divorce rate. The other 2%? They’re probably staying together out of sheer spite—or fear of returning to his office.

Instead of fixing his clients’ problems, he digs up some more. Forget “working on communication.” He’s a master at uncovering your worst secrets and weaponizing them like a teenager in a text fight.

He gets a little spark in his eyes whenever he finds something new to grill his clients about. It’s the closest he gets to joy: that glint that says, “Oh, you thought that wasn’t going to come up?”

Don’t worry about him playing favourites; he’s being a little shit to everyone equally. Even the mildest disagreements become battlefields under his gaze. You’ll go in debating how to load the dishwasher and come out wondering if love is even real.

Also, don’t be gleeful when your partner is on the receiving end of his judgement. Your turn is just around the corner. The moment he catches a whiff of smugness, he redirects like a hawk zeroing in on fresh prey.

Passive-aggressiveness just gasses him up more. Every eye roll, every groan, every passive-aggressive “are we done here?”—it’s all fuel for the fire. You think you’re breaking him down, but really, you’re just feeding the beast.

The only way of coming out of his therapy still married is through fraternizing against him. But good luck. Before you can say “teamwork,” he’s found the one thing you can’t agree on and driven a wedge so deep, you’ll forget you were ever on the same side.

Probably one of the biggest mistakes you could make is trying to weaponize his own two failed marriages against him. Oh, sweet summer child. You think that’s a trump card? He’ll shrug it off like lint on his blazer and hit you with, “That’s adorable, but let’s talk about why you brought this up.” Cue emotional bloodbath.

Thinking you can charm him by mentioning you’ve read his work and thought it was brilliant? Big mistake. He doesn’t take compliments; he takes ammunition. “Oh, you read my book? Fascinating. Let’s talk about why you felt the need to bring that up. Seeking validation, perhaps?” Now you’re defending yourself for being polite.

He’s written exactly one book, and it’s the kind of thing only masochists or grad students read. Titled “Irreconcilable: Why Most Marriages Were Doomed Before They Began,” it’s a scathing 600-page manifesto on why love is an illusion and compromise is a scam.

He’ll be going off on you for one hour, and the second the time is up he’s his perfectly composed self. Nothing like hearing, “Same time next week? We’re really cracking this open!” after you’ve spent an hour sobbing and accusing your spouse of crimes you didn’t even know you cared about.

He’s immensely motionless and visibly dissatisfied every time a couple does make it out of his counseling still together. No congratulations. No “job well done.” Just a flat, “Wow. Guess miracles do happen.” The closest thing to an endorsement you’ll ever get.

If you somehow survive his sessions intact, you’ll leave with a list of issues you didn’t even know you had. Trust issues? Check. Miscommunication? Check. A sudden, inexplicable need to google “how to file a restraining order”? Double check.

His office décor is clinically neutral—beige walls, minimal art—because the real carnage happens in your emotional landscape. There’s no place for comfort here. Just two chairs, a box of tissues, and the sharp glare of his judgment.

He’s the kind of counselor who will literally pause a heated argument to correct your grammar. “Actually, it’s ‘my partner and I,’ not ‘me and my partner.’ But please, go on about how they never support you.”

He’s got a poker face so strong, even the most unhinged confession barely raises an eyebrow. You could admit to orchestrating a fake kidnapping to test your partner’s loyalty, and he’d just scribble something in his notebook with a bored, “Huh. Interesting.”

Somehow, he remembers everything. That tiny detail you offhandedly mentioned in week one? He’ll bring it back 15 sessions later, weaponized and sharper than your spouse’s passive-aggressive tone during your last fight.

His motto? “Honesty isn’t always the best policy—it’s just the most fun for me.” Because nothing says therapy like watching couples tear each other apart under the guise of “truth.”

Every session is like playing emotional Minesweeper. You think you’re navigating safely until—BOOM—he hits you with a “So when are you planning to tell them about the credit card debt?”

He’s probably got a closet full of tissue boxes because he goes through multiple ones a day. Not that he’s offering comfort, mind you. He’s just emotionally eviscerating people left and right, leaving them to weep into piles of Kleenex while he sits there scribbling in his notebook like “Another one bites the dust.”

On the rare occasion he does favour one client over their partner, he’ll join in with them to gaslight the other. If you thought your gaslighting was bad, wait until he tags in. “Honestly, that’s a perfectly normal thing to do. I don’t know why your partner’s making such a big deal about it.” Next thing you know, you’re doubting your grip on reality.

You know he’s in a good mood when he starts with, ‘So, let’s revisit that thing you were hoping I’d forget.’ His version of ‘good vibes’ is a merciless callback to the worst fight you’ve ever had. Bonus points if it involves a completely trivial topic like a burnt casserole.

He once accidentally helped save/improve a marriage, and he still brings it up as his greatest failure. “It wasn’t my fault. They blindsided me by… actually communicating. Ugh.”

He doesn’t just break you down emotionally; he’ll dismantle your hobbies too. “So you knit to ‘relax’? Interesting. Is that why your partner feels neglected every time you pick up the needles?”

Every now and then, he’ll throw in a “fun” hypothetical just to spice things up. “So, if your spouse did start an affair with their coworker, how do you think you’d react? No, seriously, let’s explore that.” And just like that, he’s set your relationship on fire.

If you’re brave enough to call him out for being biased, he’ll hit you with a “Why do you think you feel that way?” Congratulations, you just fell into his trap. Now you’re the one who needs to “explore your insecurities.”

He’s got a way of twisting even the smallest compliment into a passive-aggressive critique. “So you think they’re a good parent? Interesting that you don’t mention them being a good partner.”

No argument is off-limits to him, no matter how petty. You could be fighting over the remote, and he’ll somehow turn it into a deep dive on your inability to compromise. “Is it really about the TV? Or is it about the control you feel you’re losing in this relationship?”

He has the audacity to send you home with homework. Nothing says fun date night like sitting down to answer questions like, “What’s the worst thing your partner’s ever said to you, and why do you think they meant it?”

He signs off every session with, ‘It’s not my job to fix you. It’s my job to show you what’s broken.’ Thanks, Daniel. Really uplifting. Can’t wait for next week.

He keeps a tally on how many digs it takes for both of his clients to start sobbing. He’s like an emotional sniper, except instead of bullets, it’s a well-placed “So, how did your mother influence your relationship dynamic?”

He also keeps a separate count of how many clients had a full-on mental breakdown that week. At the end of the week, he probably leans back in his chair, reviewing the numbers with a satisfied, “Another record-breaking performance. Good job, me.”

He gets a twisted sense of joy from the whole thing. Every time someone cries, he casually slides the tissue box closer with a little smirk, like “That’s the spirit.”

He claims he doesn’t enjoy making people cry, but the smug look on his face says otherwise. You swear you caught him jotting “two-for-one cry deal” in the corner of his notebook after both you and your partner lost it in the same session.

If you call him out on the tally, he’ll act surprised. “Tally? Oh no, that’s just... uh... my grocery list. Don’t mind that.” Meanwhile, you can see “MENTY B TOTAL: 12” written in huge letters.

He has a "Hall of Fame" in his mind for the fastest emotional breakdowns. “Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Impressive, really. Most people hold out until the ten-minute mark.”

His biggest letdown of the week is a session where nobody cries. He’ll sigh heavily, jot something in his notebook, and mutter, “Well, we all have off days.”The week his tally hits zero? He might as well shut the whole office down. He’d sit at his desk, staring out the window, whispering, “Have I lost my touch? No... it’s them. They’re just repressing better.”

The reason his Google ratings are still up? It’s either fear—because who wants Daniel Molloy coming after them in a vengeful Yelp tirade—or gratitude, but of the gaslit variety. His clients walk away thinking, “Wow, our marriage was doomed from the start. Thank you, Mr. Molloy, for showing us the truth.”

There’s a rumor that he has a celebratory bell he rings in his private office for every milestone. After every couple that leaves his office divorced. Ding-ding-ding! “Another happy ending.”

Sometimes he drops subtle hints about the bell mid-session. “You know, not every couple makes it through therapy. But that’s okay. There’s… closure in accepting the truth.” And you know he’s thinking about that bell.

If he had his way, the bell would be a centerpiece of his practice. Displayed proudly behind his desk, polished to a shine, with an engraving: “In honor of irreconcilable differences.”

Please feel free to add anything I have missed. 💀

[misswynters]

Jinx comforting depressed reader...as best she could

featuring. jinx x platonic! sister reader

requested by anon

Jinx wasn’t the best at handling emotions, well at least not the messy, quiet ones that didn’t come with explosions or screaming matches. But when she saw you, curled up on the edge of the old couch in the hideout, staring at nothing in particular, she couldn’t just walk away. It wasn’t the first time she’d found you like this, but it still hit her like a sucker punch to the gut every single time.

She approached cautiously, her usual chaotic energy dialed back to something softer. The quiet shuffle of her boots against the floor was the only sound as she made her way over, dropping down beside you with a loud plop. She stretched her legs out in front of her, slouching dramatically, trying to fill the space with her presence alone.

“You know,” she started, twirling a strand of her blue hair around her finger, “I was gonna blow something up today. Had the whole thing planned out—fireworks, kabooms, the works. But then I thought…” She leaned her head back and tilted it to look at you. “Maybe explosions aren’t what we need today.”

You blinked slowly, finally glancing her way, your expression unreadable. “We?”

“Yeah, we,” she said with a shrug, nudging your leg with hers. “You’re my partner-in-crime, remember? What’s the point of causing chaos if you’re not there to laugh about it after?”

You let out a faint snort, the first crack in the wall of silence that had been surrounding you all day. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make Jinx’s grin widen.

“Ah, there it is! I knew you still had some life in you, sis.” She pulled herself up into a cross-legged position, turning to face you fully. “Okay, let’s make a deal. You talk to me—about whatever’s got you all doom-and-gloom—and I’ll make it worth your while.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s ‘worth my while’ supposed to mean?”

She smirked, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Guess you’ll have to find out. But you’ve got my full attention, which, let’s be real, is worth its weight in gold.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Jinx always had a way of breaking through your walls, no matter how high you tried to build them. You hesitated, your gaze dropping to your hands, which were twisting nervously in your lap.

“It’s… hard to explain,” you murmured. “I just feel… heavy. Like I’m stuck in this fog, and no matter what I do, I can’t get out of it.”

Jinx’s expression softened, the teasing glint in her eyes replaced by something gentler. She reached out and took your hands in hers, her grip warm and grounding. “Yeah, that fog sucks,” she said simply. “I’ve been there. And it feels like it’s never gonna go away, right?”

You nodded, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

“Well, here’s the thing,” she continued, squeezing your hands lightly. “That fog? It’s a liar. It wants you to think you’re stuck forever, but you’re not. You’ve got me, and I’ll keep dragging you through it if I have to.”

Her words were unpolished, maybe even clumsy, but they hit exactly where they needed to. You felt a tear slide down your cheek, and before you could wipe it away, Jinx was leaning over to wrap you in a tight, slightly awkward hug. She smelled like gunpowder and oil and something uniquely her, and it was oddly comforting.

“Okay, okay, no more crying,” she said, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Because I’ve got a plan.”

You sniffled, your curiosity piqued despite everything. “A plan?”

“Yep!” She stood up and offered you her hand. “We’re gonna do something that makes you smile, even if it kills me. And I’m not talking about one of those fake, polite smiles you do when you’re pretending to be okay. I mean a real one.”

You hesitated for a moment before taking her hand, letting her pull you to your feet. “What did you have in mind?”

She grinned, her excitement infectious. “Oh, you’ll see. But fair warning: it might involve paint, glitter, and me being an absolute menace.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you laughed. A small, genuine sound that made Jinx’s chest swell with pride. “There’s my sis,” she said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go make a mess.”

taglist. @writingwisterias @ekkosh @inguuuuu @themostlesbianever

[pitchcom]

carcar survivor au, 2.2k

When Oscar received his new tribe buff, he knew that this was a chance for a fresh start.

The last vote had been…messy, to say the least. Daniel had approached him and Zhou with an idol and a plan to take out Pierre before he and Yuki could reach the merge and gain more control over the game. Oscar wasn’t naive enough to think that this meant any sort of alliance between them, but he had promised his sisters that he would do anything to try and win.

Yuki stood resolutely away from the rest of the tribe on the boat ride over. Oscar catches a glimpse of his hands, knuckles clenching white against the boat railing. He feels Daniel push past him, towards Yuki and raises an eyebrow at him questioningly.

Daniel turns back towards him. “Yuki’s scared of sharks.” he offers, as if they all hadn’t caused his face to crumple a couple nights ago as Pierre’s name was read over and over.

Oscar watches him walk next to Yuki, slinging an arm over his shoulder. Too soft, he thinks as he watches Yuki loosen his grip on the railing and lean into Daniel’s hold. He looks away towards the horizon as they travel to their new beach.

——

Oscar quickly finds himself escaping to the water well less than an hour after arriving on the new beach.

Strategically, he knows he should be at camp with everyone else. Should be talking to everyone, scouting out tribe dynamics, making first impressions that aren’t a stilted introduction before disappearing. But Oscar was never quite a social butterfly; still awkward at office parties despite working there for 2 years by now, never mind trying to ingratiate himself with 10 other strangers he had just seen briefly at challenges.

A voice interrupts his thoughts. “Huh. I guess you really were getting water. I bet George half a coconut that you were out idol searching already.”

Oscar startles and whirls around to come face to face with a shorter man with curly hair, crooked grin stuck on his face from tribe 1. Ah. He vaguely remembers him from the last challenge.

“Oh. Um. You’re the guy who kept falling off the balance beam, right?” Oscar kicked himself mentally. For all that first impressions mattered in the game, Oscar was failing miserably at them so far.

Balance Beam Guy’s mouth falls into a pout. “Alex already made fun of me for that at camp for three days! I thought that people would be over it by now.” he grumbles, moving next to Oscar to grab the water ladle from him.

“Sorry.” Oscar says, not particularly sorry. “I didn’t have a name for you, so.”

Balance Beam Guy sniffs. “It's Lando, so get that memory out of your head. I don’t need reminders that all of America saw me fail to walk in a straight line. You came over from tribe 3, right? Any deets on alliances, idols, advantages?”

Oscar shakes his head. “Nah, we’re kind of a mess. Daniel burned our idol at the last tribal, so if anyone was able to find it before we got on the boat I wouldn’t know. I’m uh, actually looking for some potential connections here.” And maybe it's a little desperate, a little shameless, but Oscar needed some kind of lifeline. So, even if he had to reveal his hand a little earlier then he would’ve liked, he was hoping the information would be interesting enough to make him worth keeping.

Luckily, Lando’s face breaks into a wide grin as he finishes filling his canteen. “Well, you’re in luck! Don’t tell anyone, but-“ Lando ducks closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “I do happen to be a part of quite a strong alliance with George and Alex. We’re trying to keep it on the downlow for now, but we’re looking for a solid fourth to help us swing a majority. You want in, um-?” Lando trails off, hand reaching out.

“Oscar,” he finishes as he takes Lando’s hand. “And I’d be happy to work with you.”

Lando’s grin slides back into its crooked default. “Great! I’ll tell them about it, and in a little bit we’ll go down to the water and chat. See you back at camp, Osc!”

Oscar’s face twitches a little at the nickname, but he doesn’t say anything as Lando walks away. We’re not friends, he wants to call after Lando. It's just strategy.

Oscar waits 5 minutes after Lando leaves before returning to camp. He gives an awkward half smile when Lando winks at him. Possible strategic liability, he notes to himself.

——

Oscar already considered himself particularly lucky to have fumbled his way through the premerge after losing Logan, not to mention Lando choosing to approach him with the offer of an alliance. In all honesty, he was waiting for the other shoe to drop and hoping it wouldn’t affect his game too badly.

That should’ve been warning already when Carlos decided to approach him on the beach.

Oscar was stretched across the sand, letting the suns rays lull him into a sleep. Half the tribe was out getting a reward (Lando included) leaving the rest of them to sulk around camp and try not to think of all the food the others were eating. Oscar chose to ignore the gnawing disappointment by getting some peace and quiet. Unfortunately, Carlos had other ideas.

“Oscar.” Carlos called from across the sand

Oscar squeezed his eyes closed. Maybe, he reasoned, if he pretended to be asleep already Carlos would get the hint and leave him alone.

“Oscar! Hello?” The voice got closer.

Oscar groaned internally before rolling back over and opening his eyes. He was immediately met with an extreme close up of Carlos, frown painted on his face.

“Why are you sleeping in the sun? Your skin, it will burn no?” were the first words Carlos spoke to him, voice too loud and face still too close.

Oscar blinked at him. “What?”

Carlos’ frown deepens. “Your skin. You will not tan, like this.”

“Well, sorry that not all of us were born with perfect genetics.” Oscar wants to drown this guy and his stupid island beauty in the ocean. “Why are you here anyways? Aren’t you supposed to be plotting the next vote with Max or something?”

Carlos’ face lights up. “Ah! That is what I have come to talk to you about!” He says, ignoring the obvious dismissal as he takes a seat next to Oscar on the sand. “You see, I have noticed that you sit alone at camp quite a lot. So, I assume that you do not have an alliance yet!”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. “And what if I have a secret alliance with somebody else? Like Daniel, or Zhou?”

Carlos laughs, a cackle that sounds almost painful. “I have already talked to both of them, and they both say they have no tribe loyalty.”

“They might be lying, you know. Trying to lull you into a false sense of security and all that.”

Carlos grins, a big dopey thing. “Between you and them I think I believe them more. No offense, Oscar.”

Oscar wills back the growing irritation beneath his skin. He’s dealt with annoying over-confident and underestimating assholes before. He knows how to play this game. “You got me. Totally friendless and ally-less on this island. Probably the most boring castaway ever.” He drones, almost completely monotone.

Carlos frowns. “Do not say that, Oscar.” Ozz-car. “I am sure you are a very wonderful person. If you were not, I would not be here asking you to join my alliance.”

“You’re here to ask me to join your alliance?”

Carlos blinks, then snaps his fingers. “Ah! Yes! I have come here to ask you to join me, Charles, and Max at the next vote!” Carlos looks at Oscar eagerly, as if he should be jumping at his generous offer. “Since you have said yourself that you have no allies, we could help carry you farther in the game. It is a mutually beneficial partnership, no?”

Oscar snorts internally. “Beneficial for you, yes. For me? What happens when it comes down to me or Charles? Me or Max? Mate, I’m not stupid. I know there are hierarchies in alliances, and I’d be at the bottom. I don’t want to be just some fucking sheep you bring with you until the time is right.”

Carlos looks a little lost at this. Clearly, his plan to swoop in and grab a vote didn’t go as smoothly as he thought. Serves him right, Oscar thinks bitterly. It’d probably be the first time his stupid cow eyes and smooth accent didn’t get him what he wanted.

Oscar watches him wiggle his jaw for a couple of seconds, lost in thought. He sighs internally, before turning back over and closing his eyes again. “Look mate, I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got my own alliance. Find somebody else to be your number.”

Oscar doesn’t hear anything for a moment, then feels sand being kicked against his skin as Carlos gets up. “Fine. But I will not be so nice later after Tribal Council, when my alliance controls the vote. See you later, Oscar.”

Fuck that guy, Oscar thinks. He ends up staying out on the sand to spite him. He ignores the smirk Carlos gives him later as Lando laughs and pokes at his sunburned back.

——

Later, after Max wins the immunity challenge, George asks him who he’s thinking of voting tonight.

“I dunno, but I think Carlos is a good choice. Breaking up that alliance before they get a foothold in the game is probably a good idea. “ Oscar says, feigning nonchalance. It’s purely strategic, he tells himself.

George nods. “And you’re sure you can get Daniel and Zhou to vote with us?”

“Course he can!” Alex says, laying an arm around Oscars shoulder with an easy smile. “And even if he can’t, I think we’ll survive to another day. I mean, nobody even knows we’re allied. There's no way they think that a bunch of lanky and short guys are bigger threats than someone like Valterri or Fernando.”

Oscar nods along, a smile growing despite himself as he watches Lando shove Alex for calling him short. This is my endgame, he thinks to himself.

——

George is trembling on the way back from tribal. From rage or shock, Oscar doesn’t know. Lando is silent for once, white-knuckled grip on his pack and lips pursed into a sharp line.

Alex going home tonight was not part of the plan. They were supposed to have the numbers, with Lewis, Valterri, Zhou, and Daniel voting with them. I guess they found their number, Oscar thought bitterly and he watched Daniel and Max whisper to each other up ahead.

It was a good move. If Oscar were at home watching, he would be applauding them for identifying the threat within the tribe and dealing a significant blow to them. But now, as he was forced to trudge back to camp minus Alex, Oscar just feels a sort of sourness in his stomach.

This feeling is only amplified when they arrive back at camp, and Carlos turns to him with a big smile on his face. Oscar doesn’t think it's dopey anymore.

“I told you, Oscar!” Carlos sings to him as Oscar is trying to dig for his jacket in his pack. “I told you we would control the vote. Are you rethinking my offer now? Though, I think we are less in need of ‘sheep’ now.”

Oscar rethinks every post he’s ever made on Twitter calling out contestants for being butthurt for being on the wrong side of the vote. Tries to school his expression, tries to steady his breathing and refrain himself from punching Carlos straight in the face.

“Fuck off.” Is what he settles for instead, a shove that barely makes Carlos stumble. Oscar can hear his cackling laugh echo through the night air as he stomps down to the beach to meet with George and Lando.

“What the fuck just happened.” George starts. “We were supposed to be safe- We were not supposed to be the targets! It was supposed to be Fernando, or Valterri, or even fucking Lewis-“

”I just don’t understand how they knew,” Lando stresses, hand pulling through his curls. “We were keeping it a secret and everything!”

Oscar doesn’t say anything, because the sour feeling in his stomach has just curdled. Nobody said anything about an alliance, he realises, except for him. Except for that stupid throwaway line to Carlos on the beach. A throwaway line that he then latched onto, analyzed, and deduced a potential member from.

The guilt eats at him, in the silence. Nobody speaks for a bit. Oscar is about to open his mouth and apologize when Lando says “Franco.”

They both turn to look at him. ”Franco was in our old tribe, he voted with them tonight. He must’ve figured it out.” Lando continues.

And it’s an out. An easy way to avoid blame, to explain away the sudden target of Alex. Oscar only feels slightly bad when he nods along. After all, it makes perfect sense.

They talk for a little more, discuss further plans of action. But there is only one fact repeating in Oscars head by the time they get back to camp:

Carlos Sainz is bad for his game.

[redocity]

buck x cop reader with 7) finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc) and 2) hate fucking because of the whole rivalry thing between cops and firefighters

𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 — 𝐄.𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐘

7) finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc)

2) hate fucking

even buckley x fem!cop!reader | 1.5k | smut | masterlist.

WARNINGS | THIS POST IS 18+ MDNI. unprotected piv, buck dirty talks a whole lot, arguing during and after sex, creampie, porn no plot, uniformed sex, semi-public sex

𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 !!

“Just fuck me already—”

How did you get here?

“Yeah, you’re a cop alright,” Buck huffed with a smile, gripping your hips and angling your ass upwards. “Impatient.”

Dragged into an empty office during a first-responders after party, Cargo pants tugged half way down your thighs.

“And you’re a firefighter,” You muttered back, forearms planted on the desk. “Cocky.”

And by a firefighter no less.

“You like it,” he responded, voice low in your ear.

He pushed two fingers inside you without warning, a breath leaving his parted lips.

“You’re the one who let me drag you in here, remember?”You squeeze your eyes closed as he curls his fingers upwards, a sharp breath breaking through your nose.

“You could have run away at any time but you didn’t. You want this,” he whispered, using his other hand to undo his belt.

“I wonder what your superiors would think— knowing that you’re getting fucked in a back office of some random party,” The sound of denim hitting the floor behind you, and the withdrawal of his fingers forces your eyes open again, an involuntary noise of disgruntlement leaving your throat.

“I bet they’d be shocked knowing that you’re getting pounded by someone that you didn’t even give your name too.” He lined himself up against your entrance, pushing inside torturously slow.

“God, they’d be pissed if they knew you were getting bent over by a— oh Jesus- by a Firefighter,” Seemingly half way through, Buck loses his patience, bottoming out with a harsh thrust that doesn’t stop at just that.

“So tight— fuck—” He groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he set his pace, one you didn’t have any say in, not that you minded anyway.

Neither of you were completely inebriated, but a bit of alcohol made the whole situation a bit more fun—less worrying, if you will.

And honestly, at this point, what really could go wrong?

“Bet no one back at HQ knows you’ve got a pretty little cunt like this—” He breathes out a groan. “God-”

You bite back a groan of your own with your reply. “Do you always talk this much-?”

Buck didn’t seem to appreciate that question.

The sounds of skin clapping against skin were pretty loud in the confined space of the office, most definitely not helped by the occasional groans and whimpers shared between the two of you as Buck hardened the impact of his thrusts.

Anyone walking down the corridor outside would definitely know what you’d been up to.

He pushed your torso against the desk, his pace fast—furious—his grunts and curse words coming from behind you.

“Jesus you’re so tight—” he bit out, head lolling backwards and mouth left open in pleasure “Should’ve - oh- should’ve known you were a good fucking lay, just looking at you-”

God, how did you two end up like this?

You were bent over a desk in some random private office, getting railed by a firefighter you met less than an hour ago and loving every minute of it.

“You gonna come for me? You gonna come all over my cock?” He panted, one hand gripping your shoulder, the other coming down to your waist.

And obviously, the answer was a resounding yes.

The way you were feeling—his touch the sound of his voice, all of it was just so perfect. And as you came you were certain that this experience had ruined you for anyone else.

Buck would definitely never forget the sounds that were coming from you, the way you felt around him as you came, he knew that for sure.

He’d probably be thinking about this for weeks.

His pace became more frantic after that—desperate— chasing his own release and leaving you no time to recover from your own.

“You’re so fucking good—” he muttered, his hands gripping you, pulling you as close to him as possible. “Gonna fill you up-”

He was getting so close, and the temptation to spill his spend inside you was so present he couldn’t really refuse himself. “Gonna fill you up and let you go back to- oh Jesus- let you go back to the party with my come inside you-”

The image that it put in his head was just so perfect.

“Let you walk back out there- oh- let you talk to your colleagues while they all have no idea—”

They’d all wish they were him.

“No one- no one knowing that you’ve had your brains fucked out by a Firefighter—”

And the thought was so good—seeing you later, talking to all the people at that party, knowing that the reason you looked so flushed was because of him.

“And you’re gonna walk over and make small talk- pretend you’re not thinking about my come leaking out of you-”

Because honestly, he’d be shocked if you could think about anything else, if you weren’t still feeling him hours after this.

“Then you’re gonna find me and we’ll do it all over again-” Like hell was this ending tonight.

And that was it.

The last straw.

As his imagination ran away, his mind filled with thoughts of what you’d look like in the morning—after he’d gotten you alone again, that knot in his stomach finally snapped.

He came with a loud moan, his hips stuttered against yours, his hands on your waist gripping you so hard that you’d most definitely have little fingerprint shaped-bruises come morning.

He was completely fine with that.

The both of you just stayed like that for a few moments, your chests heaving. But slowly, he pulled out and took a few steps back, his eyes not once leaving you as he watches the drips of his spend drip down your thighs.

He was practically hard again by the time he tucked himself into his boxers and his pants, a sudden overwhelming urge to fuck you all over again encroaching on his conscience.

But he did have some self control.

He watched as you pushed yourself up—barely able to make yourself stand straight and he couldn’t help but mentally pat himself on the back. He watched you fix your clothes, your hands a little shaky, and a smile crept onto his face.

He’d done that to you.

He took another step back, his eyes on your face, watching a few different things pass through your features.

It seemed like you finally remembered where you were, what you’d both just done.

“Wow,” he said, his tone teasing, almost mocking. He ran a hand through his hair, still watching as you tried to regain some sort of composure.

“You alright there, officer?” He leaned against the edge of the desk, his eyes still roaming your body as you straightened yourself out.

“Yes- I’m fine,” you tried to sound annoyed but he’d be able to hear the breathless tone in your voice—god he was so full of himself.

“You sure?” He feigned innocence. “You look a little… disheveled,” he added, letting his eyes rake over you once more.

You tried to glare at him, but the effect was ruined by the fact that you were still out of breath.

Honestly, the bastard was far too arrogant for his own good.

“Don’t inflate your own ego, it’s unbecoming,”

He feigned offense, a hand going up to his heart. “Officer, I am a hero,” he said, his tone overly dramatic, “Firefighters are literally the most humble first responders.”

“Yeah, you really seem like the picture of humility,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

“Oh please,” he said, a smile pulling at his lips, “Just say you enjoyed yourself. You’ll feel better,”

You wanted to hate him, you really did.

He was cocky and conceited and so full of himself, but you also couldn’t deny the fact that - for some reason - it all just made him so damn attractive.

“I hate you” you muttered, your eyes on the ground.

“No, you don’t,” he said, his voice so confident, so cocky, that it almost made you wanna punch him in his beautiful face.

“You don’t hate me, you think I’m hot as all hell,” he took a few steps closer, a smirk on his face, “and you love how I made you feel tonight.”

Damn him and his piercing blue eyes and his cocky smile and his stupid gorgeous body.

The bastard was absolutely right, and you hated every last bit of it.

“Get outta here, asshole,”

He smiles.

“Meet me out back in an hour,”

[syndrossi]

I was thinking about how Jace and Luke (and Joffrey maybe? I can't remember if he's been born yet) are all alone in KL and I realized there's a pretty good chance that they'd end up going to Daemon for any problems they have. I know that they don't really know him since he's been in the Stepstones for most of their lives, but with both parents and Rhaenys gone Daemon is really the only adult left. I guess Viserys it's there, but I think Rhaenyra has probably told them all about how he's the king and had lots of important things to do, so they might be a bit scared of disturbing him. Since they definitely won't be going to Alicent or Otto, that really only leaves Daemon. Again, he is kind of a stranger, but since he's close with both of their parents, and Rhaenyra had probably told them plenty of stories about him, they might feel more comfortable with him than with any of the other adults. The implications of this are kind of hilarious, because if something happens (one of them has a nightmare/ gets hurt training, etc) Daemon could very well find himself faced with two very young, very upset children, who, for some reason, seem to think he knows how to solve all their problems. If it becomes a regular thing, Rhaenyra and Laenor's reasons would be the funniest thing ever. Like imagine Rhaenyra send a raven to Viserys asking how her boys are doing, and he responds with "oh they're fine. Daemons looking after them." She would be really confused at first, but I think she'd be pleased to see how fatherhood has affected him. She's really the only person who seems to realize how much he wanted his own children, so I think she'd like seeing him bond with hers. Laenor on the other hand would wonder if there's another Daemon he doesn't know about.

Yep, Joff (and Daeron) are both two right now, so they're around.

There is actually a moment in ch33 where he realizes that they're all alone. He then immediately shifts to fury/resentment that his sons spent their entire childhood like that, but hey, even thinking about that is progress!

Daemon had entirely forgotten about Rhaenyra’s sons, currently without either parent. My sons spent the last six years of their lives thus.

Daemon is still learning object permanence of people on the edge of his sphere of "important to me." 😂

What might end up happening is that Jon breaks the "hey, so, we promised Aegon and Aemond they could sup with us" to Daemon, and for balance, he invites the Velaryon boys, who are FAR more appropriate company, the following night.

But you're right that Daemon is an adult who has spent enough time in their short lives to register as trustworthy. Heck, he took Luke up on a ride on Caraxes! The mental image of all the children trying to adopt themselves into Daemon's family is pretty hilarious, honestly.

Rhaenyra would definitely be touched by Daemon looking after her boys. As you said, she's one of the only people who noticed how badly he wanted children of his own, but that pain seemed to keep a distance between him and her sons (since they represented something Viserys denied him via his marriage to Rhea). Him opening up his heart to include them is a sign of healing/growth.

[mitskicodedwukong]

💓 CRUSH 💓 || Triad!Wukong x Reader Oneshot

» crush (ethel cain) « 0:21 ─〇───── 3:20

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝🍑╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ AUTHOR'S NOTE ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗🍑╔⏤⏤⏤╝ ➤ This is reposted from my old account, @nothyenlowz :3 ➤ This is a oneshot. ➤ This is romantic. ➤ Reader is gender neutral (except for one use of "maiden" in reference to you). ➤ This oneshot includes Dragonhead/Triad!Wukong, who is apart of the Triad AU belonging to @/skittlescripts! ➤ This oneshot in based off @/dumplingsjinson's 4th unrequited-but-not-actually-unrequited-love prompt! ➤ TRIGGER WARNINGS include use of "name" (couldn't avoid it, sorry </3), profanity, denial of feelings, avoidance, lying, self-deprecation, angst, and crying. ➤ Word count: 4,340

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

❝ Camo jacket, robbing corner stores; hard odds to beat when you're on all fours .❞

You didn't want this.

You didn't want this.

It started off innocently enough—a blush when you caught the Great Sage's eye, a bit of a tremble to your voice or your knees when his hand brushed yours, squealing into your pillows when he gave you gifts. Embarrassing reactions, yes, but not surprising. Afterall, whole gods have found themselves swooning for the Monkey King—what chance did your mortal self stand against the demon's wicked charm? But surely your little... celebrity crush didn't mean anything significant.

Except it did.

You barely ever had crushes growing up, much less attractions so passionate you could call them love. But with Wukong, it came far too easily. You loved the way he spoke, the way he held himself, the way he managed to create a community of loyal allies despite his many enemies. But then you also loved the simple things—his real laugh, the one that made him clutch his stomach and cackle until tears were dripping from his eyes; the way his tail swayed like a dog's and curled into a something preciously heart-esque when he was excited; the way he smelt of peaches and flower. You were always finding out new things about him through opportunities presented to you and you alone, as if he was a whole world just for you to—

No!

No, no, no!

This is how the greatest friendships crashed and burned. That initial spark of attraction and a hopeful heart paired with a traitorous brain poisoning you with sweet what-ifs and flowery dreams is all it takes for you to make one irreversible, permanent step; for you to pour your heart out only to hear we can still be friends! and watch him drift away.

Well, not you. You weren't going to risk breaking your heart nor your and Wukong's friendship over a crush, no matter how insistent. So after many sleepless nights of brainstorming, you finally devised a plan to squash your feelings for the Monkey King.

1.) Create distance physically.

You tap your fingers against your thigh anxiously, fighting the urge to scratch angry red blotches into the skin while you wait for Wukong to pick up your call. You thought this method would be easiest for enacting Step 1, assuming Wukong and Macaque wouldn't be able to pick out any lies over the phone. But with how long it's taking him to answer, maybe you were better off just ditching your phone altogether—

"Hey, peaches!" Wukong's cheery voice greets over the line, making you huff in relief. "What's up? You're not calling to ask if you can come up, right? Because you know I've told you you can just come, riiighttt?"

Your heart swoons pathetically, and you have to aggressively remind yourself that hanging out with Wukong is the exact opposite of what you want to achieve.

"Yessss, I remember," you force out in a nasally, cracking voice that you pray sounds convincing. "But no, that's not why I'm calling."

"Oh, peaches, are you sick?" Wukong asks worriedly, and you can feel his furrowed eyebrows through the phone.

"No," you snark, and then you force out some rough-sounding coughs, grimacing at the way your throat stings. "This happens every year. Sometime near spring I get super sick for like a month—might be the pollen or something, I dunno."

"I never noticed," Wukong replies softly. "I'm sorry, peaches. I woulda helped you before if I'd realized."

Your heart flips again and you lean away from the phone to muffle a quiet squeal into your palm before returning. "It's—" cough "—fine. I'm a big girl, a little springtime bug isn't going to kill me. But it is gonna keep me in my house for a few weeks."

"In that case, why don't I let Macaque handle things for a bit and come over—"

"No!" You snap out, your hand immediately smacking over your mouth at the outburst. Fuck! You think, mind racing to recover from your fumble. You let out a series of coughs as you think, then lick your lips. "S-Sorry... while it means a lot that you'd do that for me, when I get like this... it's just easier to handle it alone. I don't really have the energy to be around people or have them around me."

You cross your fingers, your opposite hand gripping your clothes in a white-knuckle grip as a few beats of silence pass. God, let him believe me so I can hang up—

"Alright, peaches," Wukong replies in that same gentle voice, the one that makes you melt like butter, and you have to lean back so he won't hear the relieved puff of air you let out. You're so busy rejoicing you nearly miss what he says next. "But I'm still going to drop food off to you, alright?"

Seeming to sense the coming argument from you, he adds, "I'll just drop it off at your door and send you a message."

You sigh, a small smile forcing it's way on to your face despite the situation still not being as perfect as you'd hoped for. "Guess I can't stop you, sunshine."

"Nope!" Wukong laughs, popping the p. "Get well soon! Who knows what mischief I'll be up to without my angel to keep me on the path of grace?" he coos with a subtle purr to his words. A wild blush blooms on your face, burning your ear tips as you soak in what he said.

"You're supposed to be able to do that on your own, Great Sage," you croak out, burying your flushed face in your unused hand even though the cheeky monkey isn't here to see it.

"What's the fun in that?" Wukong snickers. Then his voice lowers again, squeezing your heart. "But seriously, take care of yourself, peaches. If you need space, that's fine, but if you need help, ask. There's nothing you could do that would chase me away."

What he says is sweet, so sweet, and dream-like. His words make you think of a fairytale, with you a fair maiden and him a brave, persistent, dragon-slaying knight.

But life's not a fairytale, and things won't go your way just because you wish on a star.

"Will do, Wuks," you say quietly. "Bye."

"Bye, peaches."

Beep-beep.

Step 1... achieved.

2.) Create distance emotionally.

You couldn't just get rid of your crush (well, you probably could, but that'd entail some magical intervention you're not quite desperate enough for yet), but maybe you could weaken it by limiting how much exposure you had to Wukong. Hard, considering how popular he was, but surely not impossible!

So, to start off easy, you got rid of your merch. You were able to sell most of it online, but the more stuff you got rid of, the more... upset you felt. Which made sense, sure—they were things you loved, of course, and if you hadn't fallen in love with one of your best friends, you'd never part with it—, but your thoughts felt... insane. You found yourself wondering if people would take care of it, if they'd love it and find the same joy in it that you did.

The idea of someone doing anything less made your skin crawl, and for a few brief moments, you considered doing full deep dives on buyers to make sure the merch was going to a good home. Then you reasoned you sounded absolutely obnoxious, like some creepy fangirl and not a close friend of Sun Wukong, and gave the rest away without any further hesitance.

Goddamn, did it sting though.

True to his word, Wukong stopped by your house once every few days with food and medicine. At first, you were worried he'd try to talk to you or ask to come in, but the only way you even knew he'd been there was when he alerted you with a message. You were grateful for it, but words couldn't describe the relief you had that he left no gifts in the bags.

If he had, that might have set you right back to square one.

Your house felt... empty without Wukong's memorabilia, but you chopped it up to your distaste for change. Obviously the nearly crippling discomfort in your own home was because of the now-barren walls (no way it was because you'd just given away dozens of sentimental items), so you bought some pretty posters of bands, artists, and games you liked and hung them on the wall. It wasn't the same, but you supposed that within time, it'd become your new normal.

You decided to ignore the way that settled on your body like gloomy fog.

Now... for the harder part.

Aside from merch, Wukong had gotten you plenty of personal products. Clothes, jewelry, perfumes, cooking utensils you'd been eyeing, plushies—that sort of thing. You knew just by looking at it that it was expensive, probably things that would land you in debt for life if you'd bought it yourself, and rare, too. Likely some one-of-a-kind stuff, knowing Wukong.

You spent three nights despairing over what to do with them. Giving them away to the masses felt disrespectful to say the least, and you didn't have it in you to fight with your heart so much when it protested the idea. Throwing them out didn't feel much better, and neither did burying them, but you couldn't keep them. No, no, no, it'd just encourage your stupid crush if you caved and kept anything, especially the personal stuff!

So you did the only thing you could think of: gave it to your family.

It still didn't feel great either way, but at least you knew they were being cared for. And if Wukong happened to ask for any of it back, it'd be easy to retrieve.

Later in the day, you expect to feel relieved at having found a solution, but it only fills you with dread.

All that's left are the notes.

You keep them in a pretty box in your desk. It's a deep red covered in bright splashes of color meant to resemble fireworks, with bright iron hinges on the back so it could open and close. It's perfectly pristine, not so much as a speck of dust upon it, its well-cared-for appearance taunting you as you lift it out of its drawer and sit on your bed.

You know you shouldn't look at them, but it's not like it'll change anything—you already have them memorized by heart, anyway.

Dear (name), "Sunshine", huh? Can't say it reflects much of who I am as an infamous, invincible god, but I'll take it over "simian" anyday! I think I'll call you "peaches" in return. It has a nice ring, doesn't it? Sunshine and Peaches. Like two peas in a pod. Anyway. I hope you like the clothes!

You laugh softly as you read the note. This had been after you mistakenly let your unspoken nickname for him slip after one of his meetings, flustering both you and the unprepared Dragonhead. Despite your furious blush and profuse apologies, Wukong had made you explain your reasoning behind the nickname (which was mostly Macaque's fault—damn him and his "sun and moon" metaphors). You were mortified, thinking you'd set your and Wukong's relationship way back, but when he started calling you peaches...

Sunshine stuck, and you two really did become peas in a pod.

You've torn through the whole box of notes by the time you realize there are tears running down your cheeks. When the realization hits, you bend over and press your hands to your face, open-mouthed sobs wracking your body.

Why'd it have to be him? You could've fallen hopelessly in love with anyone, and your heart chose him?

Wukong isn't the problem. No, not at all. Next to you, the Monkey King seems wild, volatile, too much. But that's only because you're a mortal, incapable of shining even half as brightly as he does. Wukong's a god, an immortal king, a being who'd felled thousands in mere moments—your best friend deserves someone who could meet him at his level, not force him into some domestic role.

Someone better than you.

The thought sends a sharp wave rocking through your chest, but with it comes some rush of desperation—you don't know if it's to fight for or against something, but it leads you to pluck one of the notes from its place on the bed,

turn it over so you can't see the words,

and fucking shred it.

That night, you lie amongst the torn pieces of paper like they're ruins of a city—something you used to know, used to love, used to find strength in.

Now they're something to be forgotten.

Step 2 is done.

3.) Find somebody else.

You have to admit, Step 3 was definitely a desperate plan B if nothing else worked, and, well...

Nothing else was working.

Your "sick" month had passed, and you were now three months into simple ignoring Wukong. You were honestly surprised the Monkey King hadn't broken into your house yet, but based on some demon conflicts you'd seen on the news, you figured he was busy.

But that wasn't the problem. What was the problem was your crush hadn't waned in the slightest! In fact, your attempts to get rid of it had only made you want to run further into Wukong's arms, where you'd be drowned in the scent of peaches and flowers and the feeling of soft fur and a strong body against yours and—

Goddamnit!

Part of you felt... tired; sick of what you perceived as dramatic and begging for a break from the heartache. It whispered to you, questioning how good Wukong was to keep around if he would cut you loose just for a crush—even saying that it'd be good for you. Save you the trouble and put you on the path of healing before it got real bad... whatever that meant.

But the other half of you fought and it fought hard. You wanted Wukong, even if it meant you could only have him as a friend. He made you feel good and you'd die before giving that up—that was why you'd started this whole mess in the first place!

Besides. Even in the highly unlikely, fantastical world that Wukong didn't reject you—you were a mortal, temporary and simple. Unfortunately, the same would be applied to your relationship. When you ended, so would it. If you couldn't grow old together, if you'd inevitably leave Wukong heartbroken and alone, was it really worth even considering?

No. That's why you're here at a café (far away from Wukong's headquarters, you made sure), sitting across from... your date.

They're gorgeous. With fawn-colored skin, soft brown eyes, and wavy, blonde, orange-dipped hair, they make you think of summer, of beach days and ice cream in the park. And they're sweet, easily cracking jokes with you and complimenting you without overwhelming you. They're... perfect.

But they're not Wukong, and the way you remain acutely aware of that as you share sweet treats with them destroys any hope you had of destroying this crush.

You're trying to think of ways to let your date down gently when you hear the door chime go off. A new customer is nothing to draw any real attention, of course, but a chorus of sharp gasps and your date's frightened stare looking past you makes you turn.

And, god, you wish you hadn't.

Wukong walks into the café calmly, his face unreadable as he scans the booths. You're fairly certain you already know why he's here, but when his eyes meet yours you just know you're fucked.

The café owner bee-lines to Wukong. "G-Great Sage!" They greet, bowing low. "What brings you here?"

Wukong doesn't break eye contact with you. "Nothing to do with you," he answers smoothly before approaching you in long strides.

You can do nothing but watch as he approaches, pinning your tongue between your teeth as you hold the intensity of his stare. Your date, seemingly noticing the tension between you two, reaches out to grasp your hand, but you gently pull away with a shake of your head.

"I'm sorry," you whisper sincerely, sliding enough money for the meal towards them just before Wukong reaches your booth.

The monkey eyes your date, unblinking. If this was any other situation (one where you hadn't avoided him for three months), you'd give him a gentle kick to the leg or something so he'd knock it off. But the situation is too tense, his presence too damning, and you're grateful for the few seconds you get from out beneath the demon's fiery gaze.

"Peaches," he finally murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. "We need to talk."

Fuck.

You get up without a word, placing your purse over your shoulder and heading towards the front door with your eyes on your feet. You can feel everyone's eyes on you—or rather, the two of you, as Wukong walks beside you until you reach the door, which he opens for you. Then he follows you out, staying just far enough behind you that he doesn't step on your heels.

Neither of you speak until you get to a bridge, void of people and surrounded by cherry blossom trees. It's adequate shade from any noisy individuals, and you're not sure if it was purposeful or not, or how you feel if it was. Wukong stops beside you as you peer over the edge.

"Peaches," he says, his voice still soft. "What's going on?"

Fuck.

You immediately deflect. "How did you find me?"

You hear him suck in a breath.

"How?" You hiss out, glaring up at him.

He stares at you in silence for a moment, then turns on his phone. As he presses a button, your phone vibrates in your hand.

"You tracked my phone?" You ask, blinking owlishly.

"You weren't answering me," replies Wukong simply, pocketing his phone again.

Your face flushes in frustration. "I was out—"

"For three months?"

That makes you go silent. Your phone vibrates again, making the screen light up. You can see Wukong's name in your notifications, but you dare not look to see how many there are, lest it condemn you further.

"You know, I went to your house," Wukong carries on, his voice thickening. "All the stuff I got you is gone."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

"Yeah," you mumble, your gaze falling to the ground.

"Why? Did you not like it?"

You're torn between honesty and further denial. In the end, Wukong speaks before you can make a choice.

"You didn't throw out the notes."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"It took—" his voice chokes out for a second. Your body tenses, your hands turning to white-knuckled fists at your sides. You don't look up. "It took a lot to put them together, surprisingly. Were really dedicated when you tore 'em up, huh?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Did you lie about being sick? Did you... were you just trying to get away from me?"

"It's not like that," you say, rushed, and you know as soon as the words leave your lips that you shouldn't have spoken.

"Then what is it like?" Wukong chokes out in a thick voice, but you still refuse to look him in the eye.

"I... needed alone time," you mumble.

"Why couldn't you say that?" Wukong replies, a bit of sharpness to his tone, and you can't help but feel like you've opened up the floodgates. "Do I make you feel so unsafe that you'll lie to get away from me?"

"Don't assume things about me," you snap hotly, your eyes flickering to his. They glow with a subtle red color, fixated on you, a testament to how much this has really affected him. But that's not what gets you.

It's the tears collecting in his eyes.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

"What else am I supposed to do?" He grits out. "You ignored me for three months. You didn't even text back to say if you were still sick, or if you just wanted me to stop contacting you—"

"Wukong, I—" you try, taking a step backward when the monkey flings his arms.

"And you didn't answer MK or Macaque, either!"

"Wukong—"

"You scared the shit out of me, peaches!"

"And I'm sorry for that," you bite out, managing to shut him up for a minute. You gulp, your grip on your purse tightening. "But I had... I have a problem I have to fix—"

"What is it? If you would just tell me I could help!" Wukong exclaims, reaching towards you.

"No!" You shout, twisting away from him. "You can't help, Wukong!"

"You don't know that!"

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

"I do! I do know that!"

"How?! How could—"

"BECAUSE HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA FIX ME LOVING YOU?"

Wukong falls silent. Still. Your hands slap over your mouth.

The two of you stand in silence for what feels like forever. The river feels deathly silent, and not even the wind blows. Finally, you remove your hands.

"I-I mean, I can fix it, don't worry," you say quickly, the words spilling from your lips like water. "T-These... feelings—they're temporary, I promise. They're just, uh, a b-bit more stubborn than I was expecting, y-y'know? But they're nothing serious, I swear! I-I know I've been difficult these past few months, I know, I'm sorry, just... just—"

"They're what?" is all Wukong utters, his stare burning through you.

You startle for a second, hands dropping to your chest. "T-They're temporary," you repeat. "Not serious, I swear. Nothing has to change."

Wukong doesn't reply at first. Then:

"What if I want them to be serious?"

Your heart nearly stops in your chest at the force of your surprise. "What?" is all you can get out, staring owlishly at the demon.

"I said," he speaks slowly, stepping towards you. "What if I want them to be serious? To be permanent? What if I want you to be head over heels for me, hm?"

You shiver as he stands before you, hands ghosting over your hips.

"What if I want it all to change, peaches?"

Your heart thumps in your chest, your mind desperately trying to make sense of what he's saying.

Surely he's not... he doesn't mean...

"I don't understand," you whisper, your hands hesitantly pressing against his chest.

"Oh, peaches," he coos softly, leaning in until his forehead rests against yours and all you can see are his eyes.

"Wu—"

"I love you, (name)."

Your breath catches in your throat, your mouth falling open in shock. Your entire body freezes, your thoughts halted as you process his words...

and then your heart soars.

"Me?" You crack out, a blush warming your skin exponentially. It's a bit overwhelming, the mix of love, surprise, and unfiltered relief. So much so that you can't stop the tears from building up in your eyes and slipping out as you stare up at him. "You love me?"

"Of course," Wukong says softly, his fingers reaching up to brush your tears away. "How couldn't I?"

A sob leaves your mouth at the question. "'C-Cause you're... I'm—"

"Simple?" Wukong ventures, frowning at your nod. He huffs, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "Peaches, you are anything but simple. You're brilliant and talented and witty and a quick-learner. You keep me guessing even now, and I've been around for a while," he soothes you sweetly, a breath of laughter to his voice.

You can't help but laugh a little with him, your heart swelling at his compliments. Your hands slide up his chest and his neck, feeling the soft fur slide through your fingers, and settle on his cheeks. You mirror him then, your thumbs petting his cheek bones and brushing away the wetness in his eyes. Another wave of fresh tears overcomes you when he leans into your hands.

"You're the closest thing to perfection I've ever seen," Wukong murmurs emotionally, one of his hands retracting to engulf one of your's. "You're my girl. My peach. My qíng rén."

A sob breaks free of your lips again as you pull Wukong against you, hiding your face in his chest as you cry. The Dragonhead curls around you, as if shielding you from the outside world, which you're thankful for.

Damn. All of this to find out the great Monkey King loves you back? You're not complaining, god no! Despite your tears, your heart is doing tricks, somersaults and great leaps and cartwheels. It's just...

You definitely have some communication skills to work on, you think.

That can wait, though, you think then, your crying finally tapering out. You manage to tilt your head enough to see Wukong's face, the demon smiling down sweetly at you. Your fingers fiddle with his tie for a moment before drifting upwards and holding his face again.

"Peaches," Wukong calls softly, holding your gaze. "What're you thinking?"

You pause before answering. "I... I want to kiss you," you admit, watching the monkey's face turn a red hue similar to your's. "Can I?"

His ears wiggle, his nose twitches, and then he nods, and you can feel his tail wagging by your legs.

The time for picking on his adorable monkey mannerisms will come later, because right now all you're focused on is bringing Wukong's lips to yours and finally knowing how it feels to kiss the Great Sage.

It's done at an awkward angle since Wukong didn't let you go, the both of you straining a bit to meet each other in the middle, and you break away fast, but it's perfect to you. Maybe not how you imagined a requited crush kiss going, but it's your greatest wish come true in spite of that.

"I love you," he breathes.

Your breath catches again, your heart still flipping ecstatically. "Say it again."

Wukong grins, fangs peeking out of his smile. "I love you, qíng rén."

As you bring the Dragonhead into another kiss, you think of one thing.

Maybe fairytales do exist after all.

❝ Good men die too, so I'd rather be with you .❞

[alexa-fika]

Heya, I have an idea that has lived rent free in my head since I started watching one piece. I've always been a huge demon slayer fan, and my favorite character is mitsuri I love her style and personality, and her whip like sword is awesome. With the first two episodes of the new hashira training ark now out, could I request a mitsuri like reader? I'm unsure about the characters/crew so I'll leave it up to you. I'll be happy either way

And seriously remember to take breaks it's important and stuff- also just a question what got you into one piece and who is a character you love? If you've watched demon slayer, what if your favorite character from there too?

Sweet Warrior (Whitebeard pirates x Mitsuri!Reader)

A/N oh! I am exited for this one guys, lil but different from my usual one’s as we got both quite a bit of action/fight scene and we got a tiny but of romance in there! Also Holo sorry it ook me like literally 6 months to get to this but it finally is here! I had lots of fun writing this piece and getting to look into mitsuri’s character especially having it interact with the different members! I answered the questions here just so that I din’t overwhelm this section!

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for Reader in japanese for the enjoyment of both oc and reader character readers!

Dividers by @/firefly-graphics

"Are you ready, Jozu?" Dokucha called from across the field

"I am ready!" he boomed as he activated his devil fruit ability; he dug his hands into the ground and began lifting the earth below him.

"Aha! So we're starting up big, Brother Jozu!?!" She exclaimed in glee as she propelled herself forward, whipping out her urumi. She cartwheeled her way up the raised bed, skillfully avoiding the flow of her sword as it spun around her. Its sharp edges made quick work of the ground below her, splitting it into smaller pieces that fell victim to gravity.

She grinned, doing a swift salto to make her way to even ground and away from the crumbling earth that she had left behind.

Not one to be outdone, Jozu was quick to step up his game, and he once again dug his hands into the ground and began pulling out huge parts of the soil and rocks and hauling them toward the swordswoman.

She let out a smile as she sprinted towards both the diamond man and the incoming barrage, throwing herself on a walkover as she maneuvered her sword in a small spiral in front of her. She watched with satisfaction as it wrapped around a particularly big-sized chunk of earth. Allowing the projectile to propel her off the ground and over the chunk itself, she put both hands on the sword and pulled down; aided by gravity, she watched with satisfaction as it was sent crashing into the ground as she continued sprinting closer to the man.

"That won't work for me, Brother Jozu! You are going to have to come after me yourself if you want to win!" She laughed as she cut the remainder chunks with a simple whip of her sword

"That's the spirit!" He laughed as he covered himself in a diamond armor as he threw himself forward

"What is mah beautiful Wife up to now?" Thatch called as he entered the Kitchen, placing a chaste kiss on the woman as he passed by, smiling as the action was rewarded by a small giggle

"I'm preparing something sweet; the boys are going to be here soon," she announced with a grin on her face.

He hummed, wrapping his hands around her from behind and placing his head on her shoulder.

"Is there any special occasion? It seems to be keeping ya busy as a cat on a hot tin roof," he mumbled.

"Not really; I just thought it would be nice to have a small gathering. The crew parties are great, but it's hard to mingle when there are hundreds."

"That's fair, but I hope ya know Ace is gonna devour those," he teased, looking down at the baked goods that she was preparing.

"I prepared various batches already; there's enough to feed me him and then some," she proudly stated

"Aren't you precious? Ya have everything figured out, don'tcha" placing a kiss on her cheek with a dopey smile on his face.

"I am your wife, after all; did you expect anything less?"

"Alright, lovebirds, knock it off. We're here-yoi," Marco Called, strutting into the Kitchen with Ace and Izou following shortly after him, taking their seats in front of the couple.

"Ah! You're here!" Dokucha squealed excitedly

"Here! Please help yourselves. I made enough for it to fill your bellies, including you, Ace!" she grinned, passing the commanders the various plated goods.

“Thank you, Dokucha!” Ace grinned, digging in.

"Here, Marco, you won't like these," She called, noticing the Jian Dui in front of the man and exchanging it for a plate of sunset cake.

"That one had red bean filling; this one, I believe, is more up your alley; it has pineapple filling!"

"Appreciate it-yoi," he called with a smile.

"Dokucha, Do my eyes deceive me, or is this daifuku?" Izou excitedly called, bringing the dessert closer to him as he examined the colored balls.

"Ah, yes!" You mentioned you were missing Wano's pastries, yes? I tried my hand at some of them! I hope they are to your liking!" she beamed.

"Darling, you are a blessing," Izou called, breaking the dessert in half with a fork and putting the sweet in his mouth, letting out a satisfied sound as the filling melted in his mouth.

"Thatch remind me how she married a barbarian like you?" he questioned with a smile.

"Izou, you looking for a fight, ya bastard?!" Thatch growled

"There, There, dear, he didn't mean it that way."

"Actually, I was wondering too since I joined you guys," Ace cut in

"If I weren't at the wedding, I would have found it hard to believe as well-yoi."

"Oh? Did I really never tell you the story? I would have thought this goofball would have talked your ears off about it already," she questioned

"Never came up," He grumbled, hugging her close.

"We met when Thatch beat up my ex]" she piped up, choking up the men in front of her at the brazen statement

"W-What?" Ace questioned

"Don't say it like that! The bastard had said only a boar or a cow would marry er and I lost it!"

"He said what?!" Izou exclaimed, slamming his utensils down on the table

"Ah, come on guys, calm down. I will tell you the story, but please remember this was in the past, and I am now a very happy woman!" She cried, waving her hands in front of her, trying to calm down the angered men

"Who the hell could say something like that to you, Dokucha!" Ace growled

Marco stayed quiet, but everyone could see the fury behind those half-lidded eyes.

"Ah, well...I come from a small village, you see. I had quite a big family; however, I was the only girl among them, and as such, I had many of my brother's mannerisms...I developed more strength than the other girls in my village due to the constant scuffles I had with them. I had also gotten their appetite; I was and still am quite a voracious eater. That last one is why it comes so easy to me to cater to you, Ace, since, believe it or not, we share the same magic stomach!" she giggled.

"And as you can see, I was also born with pink hair, and in my village, such vibrant colors were unheard of. My ex, who was a potential suitor back then, turned me down because of these traits, so I tried to fix myself," she narrated, ignoring the frowns on the men at her last statement.

"I pretended to be weaker than I was to be seen as more lady-like. I began to eat less to match the other girls' eating behaviors, and I began to dye my hair black," she mumbled.

"It's why my hair was so disastrous when I joined you guys; it had been surviving on box after box of dye. Which is why I appreciate your heavenly help in nursing it back to health," she joked, looking up at Izou.

"After I did, I tried again. I met with him, but he had said that he just couldn't turn a blind eye to these things and left saying those things. Thatch happened to be around the area at the time, and he jumped on the guy." She sighed as if remembering the day, though surprisingly, a smile grew on her face as she did, placing a hand on her cheek and leaning on it.

"This goofball said that he had to be a boar because he believed me to be the most beautiful gal he had set eyes on and that he would be elated to even be allowed the opportunity to court me, and so I did..."

"..."

"Damn, Thatch, didn't know you were capable of being that smooth," Ace drawled, grinning at the man.

"Hmph, I had to step up my game if I wanted to be considered by this darlin'," he called as he kissed her cheek softly and embraced her once more.

"He did; it was only when he came into the picture that I finally started to go back to normal. I gained my muscles again, and I was able to recuperate my fighting abilities as I was no longer in danger of dropping of hunger!" She cheered

"Not only him, though. I'm also glad I met you guys, too. I got myself so many big brothers along with a husband. You know, the old village also looked down on me practicing swordsmanship, so I was really happy when Vista and other crewmates first approached me inquiring about it.

I was amazed that someone would actually be interested in my skills, not only interested but willing to help me strengthen them as well!"

"Well, your skills are quite formidable. I had never and still have not seen anyone who comes close to wielding a sword like yours and with such grace. It is like watching a dancing performance; I highly enjoy watching you spar." Izou grinned as he resumed eating his dessert as he praised her

"Ya should have seen her spar with Jozu this mornin'! She was stunnin' out there." Thatch grinned.

"Alright, Casanova, I have to get more ingredients from the storage room. Be sure to behave; she called warningly as she untied her apron.

"Love you," She mumbled, giving one last kiss to the man as she made her way out.

"Remind me what Village She came from?" Izou asked once he had made sure she was out of earshot

"I already skinned em."

"Atta boy"

How about them apples ya’ll haven’t written a non-child one in a while! Much one with romance undertones! But I am actually quite happy how it turned out! My biggest pride is that action scene, I sjould stop talking about it but i’m just so proud of myself so let me have this!

I really went heavy on the research for this one guys, the first part I had to go frame for frame on that one scene with mitsuri while also looking gymnastics and acrobatic terms to better write out the scene. For the second part I had to research the likes of the characters by looking at their trivias online and based on that research pastries. Things like Marco least favorite food being Beans, and so I searched for a bean pastry and a pineapple pastry. Since Wano is based on japan I also research some japanese desserts to fit the bill. And I of course had to research some southern slang for out lovely Thatcher 🤭

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

@hannahbarberra162

[sorinethemastermind]

Fluffcember 2024: Family Gathering| Rayllum & Sorvus & Clauderry Callum is determined to ask Rayla to be his girlfriend this Winter Break. But if he can't even start a fire, how is he supposed to create the perfect moment? Soren has decided to stay on campus this Christmas, but with Rayla and Callum as his only company, he's starting to feel like a third wheel. Except maybe it's not just the three of them left on campus after all. Meanwhile Claudia is trying to have a nice Christmas with her family, but maybe her family isn't at home...

 Rayla watched Soren go with all the rest of them, and winced a little bit as she heard the door shut behind him with a loud click. Harrow cast an apologetic glance around the room.

 “Anybody got any dishes for me to do? I’m about to run a load.”

 “I can help.” Rayla blurted before she could think better of it, rising to her feet. 

 He smiled at her. “Thank you, Rayla.”

 She trailed after him, collecting a few empty plates, and they went into the kitchen. 

 “You have a lovely home.” she said after a moment, voice sounding flat even to her own ears. She cringed.

 Harrow turned on her, eyes narrowing. “So, you think you’re good enough for my Callum, do you?”

 Rayla’s eyes widened and she froze before squaring her shoulders and taking a defiant step forward. “Yes. I do.”

 His expression melted into a boisterous laugh. “Good. I think so, too.”

 Rayla felt her face grow warm. “You were messing with me.”

 “And smart, too.” Harrow winked at her. “Yes, I was messing with you. Sorry if I gave you a start.” He turned on the sink, starting to wash the dishes they’d brought in from the living room. “Callum talks about you a lot.”

 “He does?” Rayla felt the flush in her cheeks intensify.

 “Yes. All the time, in fact. You’re just about the only thing that seems to be on his mind.”

 “And what does he say?” Rayla asked, leaning on the counter, a little curious.

 Harrow chuckled. “All good things. He says that you’re very smart, and funny, and kind. And that you don’t give yourself enough credit.” he glanced over at her. “You don’t have to try and prove anything to me. If Callum likes you, then that’s good enough for me.”

 Rayla let out a breath, smiling. “Thank you.”

 “Oh, don’t thank me yet. I’m not the one you need to impress.” Harrow asked, returning his attention to the dishes. “That’s his Aunt Amaya.”

 Rayla gave him a nervous look. “And… how likely am I to impress her?”

 “Depends.” Harrow threw her a sidelong glance, smiling. “Do you have any plans to break my son’s heart?”

 “Of course not-” Rayla spluttered.

 “Then you should do just fine.” Harrow grinned at her. “So, how did you two meet?”

 “I’d have thought he already told you, seeing as he talks about me all the time.”

 “He did. But I want to hear it from you.”

 “Well,” Rayla began, “it was in fencing club. I mean, technically we’d met before then, but I didn’t know his name or anything. But then he showed up at fencing club and he was just so awful at it-” she laughed fondly, remembering the way he’d tripped over his own feet “-but he kept coming every week, and I couldn’t figure out why and then one day we got paired together and…”

 “The rest was history?” Harrow offered.

 “Nah, I kicked his butt.” Rayla smirked. “Then the rest was history.”

 “He didn’t mention that bit, oddly enough.” he said, drying off the last dish and putting it away. “He just said that you asked him out.”

 “I did that after.”

 “And what made you want to ask him out, if you had just wiped the floor with him.” Harrow asked, leaning back against the counter to look at her.

 “That he kept showing up.” Rayla admitted. “Even after everyone on the team had walloped him. Plus, he was cute.”

 Harrow laughed. “He is determined. He gets that from his mother.”

 “She sounds lovely.” Rayla offered, seeing the shadow flicker across his face. 

 “She was.” Harrow said. “The strongest, kindest person I’ve ever met. Callum says you remind him of her. I think he’s right.” “Oh.” Rayla tucked a strand of hair out of her face. “Thank you.”

 Harrow smiled. “You’re very welcome.”

 The door creaked open nearby and Rayla turned around, glancing into the hall. She watched as Corvus melted out of the shadows and held his arms open for Soren, letting his partner hide in them. She took a step towards them, but Harrow placed a hand on her shoulder.

 “Go back out to the others, and bring that plate of food.” he inclined his head towards a nearby tray of snacks on the counter. “I’ll handle this.”

 She nodded, taking it and starting back towards the living room, where she could hear the others debating which movie to put on next. Something made her linger, though, just outside the doorway. She heard Harrow’s voice, quiet and calm.

 “Are you alright?”

 Then Corvus’, quieter still. “Just give us a minute.”

 “Wait-” Soren sounded a little strained, like he was fighting to keep his voice level. “That friend of yours you mention, would they still-”

 “I’ll text you their information.” Harrow replied. “There’s an empty guest room up the stairs and to the left, if you need a minute before rejoining the others..”

 “Thank you.” Corvus' voice came again, and then she heard their footsteps recede.

 Rayla smiled. Harrow reminded her of someone, too.

 It hadn’t been easy, leaving her home and going someplace entirely new. Especially after everything. It had felt like leaving the last little remnants of her parents behind. Like they’d stayed and she’d gone, somehow. Even though it had been the opposite. She’d thought she would be all alone; no family and no home.

 But Ethari had opened his arms and welcomed her in immediately. Not because she was flesh and blood, not because it had been easy (she had certainly not made it that), but because some people are just fathers whether you’re their flesh and blood or not. Some people are just family. 

 Rayla carried the little platter of food out to yet another family that had found her and welcome her in.

[helluvapurf]

Welp, after a long... loooooong road of S2 to sift through in HB, here's my official review of the "Sinsmas" finale to wrap things up (*no Christmas pun-intended lol*):

NOTE: My thoughts below will contain some obv spoilers so you miiiight wanna skip this post if you haven't watched "Sinsmas" yet; also like with all my past reviews these are just my personal opinions alone (+fair warning that I'll be getting a bit rant-y later too), so... do remember to keep things civil if you disagree with anything here (and if not, welp... yall are free to block & move on, I guess lol 🤷‍♀️), thank you 🙏🙏

Loona continuing to show more appreciation & excitement around her dad/I.M.P. is great to see, and about time we finally got her joining in on an assassination gig again (which I don't think we've had since S1's "Spring Broken"?). I like her new Hellhound friends shown towards the end too, they look chill~

As much as I've lowkey grown a bit... disinterested in M&M these past few episodes (not to a hate-level or anything but they just don't really... "spark" for me, OTP-wise?), it is nice to see a return to their bloodthirsty-based couple fluff (aka: their lil Sinsmas-based playfight at the beginning), bringing me back a bit to the og pilot days (ex. "Oh Millie" ❤️). -Buuuut dang, who would've thought things would escalate to Millie turning out pregnant?? .o. I know there's been some controversy for Millie's less-than-happy reaction about it towards the end; but honestly I absolutely don't blame the poor gal if you consider: 1) She's a proud fighter & trained assassin who's always been passionate about her current line of work, and (depending on how imp pregnancies work) having this potentially putting her out of a job for a long while would make anyone stressed out imho 2) Imps are considered the lowest-of-the-low ranked species within Hell as it is; with not a whole lot of access to good paying jobs + medical coverage (given Blitz's struggle to get Loona her vaccinations). Imagine you were someone who found yourself expecting a child with a good chunk of Hell not considering you "high-up" enough in the food chain to care... wouldn't you get freaked out too? 3) Lastly, and this being among the biggest points to me personally... did her & Moxxie ever talk about having kids before? Given the implication that they rushed to get married so soon after dating (+Millie not even knowing about Moxx's mafia background til WAY after), I... can't say I'd be surprised if Millie's fear is partially based on how Moxxie would react (for better or worse). Kids are by-far among the biggest dealbreakers for any relationship, so while I don't necessarily think this'll cause something like a split between M&M... yeaaaah I wouldn't be surprised if this still caused some lingering-tension either way, regardless of if they go through with this pregnancy or not 🤷‍♀️ (On a side note; loved seeing Sallie May popping up to give that well-needed support to her sis on the phone, aww 🥺)

The side-story with the "karen" sinner and her ex-drama was... weird, all things considered? .x.;; Like, yeah I can see the importance of how this plays into Blitz's relationship woes & such... but, am I the only one who found it weird the writing going all "moralistic" with Blitz NOT going through with the job, solely cause he imagined his idealized family in Stolas (whom I'll cover in a sec btw-) upon spying on the target + his partner & kids? 🤨 Like... I know I've seen some argue that this is "character development" for Blitz, which I normally wouldn't mind seeing... but mind you, this is the SAME dude who was all-too-fine killing a bratty kid, a wife & her happy (albeit cannibalistic) family, a whole bunch of random college kids on spring break (all for the sake of some parking spot drama with Verosika btw), and not even two shorts ago some horny fangirl got met with the same fate by his hands (mostly due to getting caught up in her own fantasy world... and thats it lol). So I just... have a hard time buying into this being some grand "change of heart" moment for Blitz tbh, cause with this whole episode taking place during the winter holiday season (an already money-draining time irl as-is), I... can't help but find it a lowkey dick move of Blitz to rob his fellow employees of a chance to have some more cash on-hand (esp. after the events of "Ghostf**kers" and him draining the company's finances over his Stolas mope-fest, like come on dude-🤦‍♀️). Heck, if he really-really didn't wanna do it (and this target family seems innocent enough to potentially escape Hell if-killed)... couldn't they have just lied to the lady that they did the deed & take her money anyway (-instead of Blitz immediately punting her out the window 'cause she was bitching about Stolas' writing😑)? Again, this IS Hell we're talking about, so a bit of dirty-dealing doesn't seem far out of the realm of normal there lmao. Buuuut idk, that may just be me... 🤷‍♀️

We're back again with Andre leading the story as the "main" bad guy, and I'll admit his final confrontation with Stolas & the I.M.P. gang was pretty kickass~ From Stolas throwing the first punches at his smug-ass face, the action-increasing with the ice dragons & Loona going "feral"-mode, and even Octavia coming in to defend everyone from her uncle (with her own personal magic) was pretty rad! 🤩👏👏 One thing that's bothering me about it all though... where tf is Stella during all this going on?? 🤨I know the show's pretty much committed atm to making her as one-dimensionally dumb & evil as possible (not even giving her much substantial dialogue after her repeated "hiLARRRIOUS MUAHAAA~" lines 😒 ), but surely someone like her wouldn't miss the chance to see her ex (+affair partner) smacked down by her brother?? Especially once Via arrived, just imagine the juicy drama potential of seeing Stella having to force herself (+Andre) to call off their attack to appease Via (further adding in salt to the wound for her later decision to walk away from Stolas). Hhhhh Viv, why must u be so allergic to developing Stella (antagonism-wise)... 😔😔

Now, as far as Stolas himself is concerned... *-sighs-* I know I'm gonna get some flack for saying this, but I caaaaaan't with his dude anymore🤦‍♀️ Yes, I get he's going through a tough time losing everything + adjusting to a simple life now (along with implied-withdrawal symptoms from the lack of "happy pills"). But just... the way Stolas kept getting MORE & more whiny/unappreciative of Blitz (after all he's done to accommodate Stolas, defend him against other imps, giving him a job at I.M.P. on top of everything-), then never uttering a single "thank you" for Blitz's efforts frustrated tf out of me 😑😑. You expect to buy that these two are these "deep destined soulmates" at the end of the day, to the point of Blitz practically becoming a giddy cheerleader to boost Stolas at every turn... ...and yet, at the same time you're telling me Blitz has never asked about Stolas' eating habits before, nor Stolas ever asking about Blitz's love of horses?? That outside of their failed date at Ozzy's, they never once tried to actually talk, share a meal or hangout aside from their once-a-month hookups (pre-"Full Moon")? Sure, the show implies that Stolas has asked about Blitz's day before (via-some throwaway lines + blink-and-you'll-miss-it texts)... but if the audience never actually sees those friendly gestures on-screen, how am I supposed to buy them being in-love now?? -_- Like, to take a note from "Swan Princess":

Taking away their childhood memory of playing together for a day, the sexual chemistry, the grand gestures, them both having goth angsty daughters... what else IS there for Stolas & Blitz to love about each other, truly? Its one thing if you wanna show them starting over as friends first (awkward roommate-vibes aside), then hell yeah I'd be down to see their rebuilding bond as a more balanced, genuine pairing down the line (making moments like their big kiss + balcony dance 10x more impactful imo)!👍

...But, with how things are now with Viv & crew rushing to go full-romance mode already (regardless of either character's emotional well-being in the story), I... don't think I can see myself joining the Stolas/Blitz ship hype tbh, regardless of what's to come in the next couple seasons...🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Now, to cap things off regarding Octavia in all this... She. IS. A. STAAAAARRR😭🌟👏👏By far the best thing to come out of this finale IMHO; just seeing Via standing her ground as strongly as she did, both in-defense of her dad AND against him... goddd, that was powerful q-q💜 And before anyone mentions it, no I don't think Via was in anyway "wrong" for her reaction to Stolas (regardless of his efforts to reach her by the end). Imagine you're in her position; the product of an loveless, toxic marriage forced upon by a rigid society, living your childhood blissfully unaware & happy until everything comes crashing down in your teen years (through your father's public affair + your mother's rampant rage). All you thought was true is now a confirmed lie, you're stuck in an emotional mess dealing with your parents, and your beloved dad is constantly putting his booty call (+marital drama) a bigger priority over you (albeit unintentionally, but still-)...

Time & time again, Via's been let down by Stolas, the one parent she's always been closest to since the beginning... and to top it all off? Several episodes later, she's watching her father live on TV willingly ready to be executed in Blitz's place (without so much as a single goodbye message to Via, mind you-), effectively breaking his promise that he'd never leave her...

...So, really, how can anyone blame Via for simply being done with her dad, by that point? Stolas may be "trying", I know... but at the end of the day, it doesn't matter that he didn't "mean" to hurt her. What matters most is that... well, he did. More than he can imagine... 💔

------------------------------

...weeeeew okay that was a bit lengthy my bad- lmao. As a whole, I'd say "Sinsmas" was an... ehhhhh-kinda finale? Like yeah I enjoyed the Via focus we got (+her song💜), the ice battle & the improved M&M + Loona writing... buuuuut oof, am I just exhausted by the Stolas/Blitz-melodrama at this point, oml >>;; No shade to those who did enjoy the finale regardless though, yall are more than valid! 👍👍 Maybe later on I'll give my overall thoughts on S2 (+the overarching story of HB) further down the line if I'm up for it... buuuuut yeah, hope yall enjoyed reading & thanks for sticking around my page~ (for any newer/older Hellaverse fans alike)!👋✨🌙

[astroyongie]

Heyyyy

https://www.tumblr.com/astroyongie/771243053972357120/can-you-do-a-rexting-after-break-up-for-tbz-too?source=share

Seventeen?

Seventeen: Texting You After a Break up

Scoups

"I know there's no way back to this" "but still I have one last favor to ask you y/n" "Would you remember me? remember us?" "Just us and the moment that warm our hearts. Just remember our story on the beautiful side"

Mingyu

"Y/n please understand that I'm still full of the love you want" "Still waking up beneath it all, still waiting for you home" "I know you are mad but please lets talk it out yeah?" "I reach for you on faith alone, so please believe me when I say I love you"

Wonwoo

"I am so sorry for what I did to you, fuck" "I don't know what's got its teeth in me, I just felt like I had to bite back in anger" "I know I have sought a lot of fury and unlashed it all on you and I am so sorry.." "I know it will never bring back the innocence I took away from you. I am so sorry y/n"

Vernon

"So you have blocked me uh?" "Seems like your heart is locked up and I still get the combination wrong" "Or are you simply waiting to save your love for someone I am not?" "At least, you could have been honest with me"

Hoshi

"You don't understand do you y/n?" "You dont get to end his relationship without my accord" "Let the impulse of our love and the instinct of our lust, entangle to one yeah?" "In this light you are mine, ‘til the sweat turns to blood.”

The8

"I saw your new post.. seems like you are running forward with your life uh?" "And then there's me, who see our past on an empty ceiling." "I play along with the life signs anyway. Guess you never truly loved me" "But hope to God you don't know this feeling. I truly hope y/n"

Jun

"You are such a liar" "This whole thing about me hurting you, about this relationship not being enough and yet you fucking with someone else already?" "Is this what has become of us y/n?" "Maybe not that you conceal your feelings, they just don't exist after all"

Dino

"Please y/n, stop reaching for me" "You gave me nothing whatsoever but a reason to leave." "You say you want me, but you know I'm not what you need" "So please, just move on. I am your past now"

Woozi

"It's cute that you think that I would have really let you go" "oh and my love, do you really thin I would have mistaken you? I got all the signs. I know you are still in love with me" "Why are you trying to cast me off?" "Are you just trying to turn me on? cmon y/n, come home stop the games"

Joshua

"Please let's talk y/n" "You know I didn't meant what I said. you know that I'm caught up in your design" "How your life connects to mine. Please, don't leave" "I know we can fix things, I just want to be forgiven"

Jeonghan

"hey baby.. it's been a few days, and I need to tell you that I can't do this" "Let's meet up yeah?" "search the skies for a while, you and I.. talk this out of our chests" "Collide like two stars for a while, you and I. Fix this and love each other again"

DK

"I need you to understand that I hate who I have become" "Every time I wake up without you there, fuck it feels like I suffocate" "every damn days its new scars that I didn't ask for, and all I want is you back with me, y/n" "Can you call? ask for answers? please this can't be the end"

Seungkwan

"I understood the other day that you and I, we were never meant" "I spent time realizing that you were never the one I thought you were. you showed a side of yourself that I can't ever erase. Why are you never real? " "Please stop following me through" "Just let me go"

[fairyniceyeah]

💎🐈‍⬛When did we normalize danger?

Title from SOS (SEVENTEEN)

Summary: “Hey, Wonwoo-yah”, Seungcheol greeted happily, “how is your photoshoot going?” “Hyung? Can you come and get me?”, Wonwoo whispered, feeling a bit choked up all of a sudden. 

CW: emeto, medical issues with the eyes

Whumpee/Sickie: Wonwoo Caretaker(s): S.Coups/Seungcheol + Jeonghan

(It’s okay)

“Okay, nearly done”, the stylist noona announced, fixing a few strands of Wonwoo’s hair before stepping back to inspect her work. “I think I outdid myself.”

“You did, noona”, Wonwoo agreed, laughing at her proud smile. He was at a solo photoshoot to model for The Face Shop again, an activity he enjoyed more than he ever thought he would. The staff was always the same and they were very kind and forthcoming. He had grown quite close to them, as much as work allowed. “Can I keep my glasses on or do I need to switch to contact lenses?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to go with the lenses this time, sweetie”, she said, looking very apologetic though it certainly wasn’t her fault. “Apparently in this studio due to the new lamps the glasses might reflect the light so that the pictures will be useless.”

“It’s not your fault”, Wonwoo protested, already rifling through his backpack to find his contact lens case. Where had he put it? When he couldn’t just find it with touch alone, he completely opened his bag and searched through it.

Yet the contact lens case didn’t turn up.

For a moment, horror washed over him. A hot flush of shame encased his body and he felt his hands start to tremble badly. This was the worst case scenario - normally he was so diligent and reliable. For a reason. He hated inconveniencing others and currently, if he had no contacts, he would either end up accidentally squinting on camera and have to rely on somebody to get around or they might even have to break the contract - an expensive collaboration between their company and The Face Shop - if the pictures didn’t work out. 

“Everything okay, Wonwoo-ssi?”, the stylist asked worriedly.

“I … I can’t find my contact lenses. I think I forgot them at home”, he whispered, bowing his head in shame. “I am so sorry.”

“Oh”, she said, “well, maybe your manager has a back-up pair?”

“I … I don’t know. I’ll ask”, Wonwoo said, cursing his own stupidity. Of all the days of this to happen was when there was a scheduling conflict, leaving him completely on his own at the other company. The manager had just dropped him off and then driven away to run an errand or something. It was moments like this that made Wonwoo hate solo schedules with a passion. He would have given a lot for his Seungcheol-hyung to take over dealing with the situation and his Jeonghannie-hyung’s comforting hugs. 

Instead, he called the manager, hoping he had a solution.

💎

Fifteen minutes later the manager hurried in, handing over a contact case he had luckily found in the glove compartment of the car.

“My lifesaver, thank you”, Wonwoo thanked him with a deep bow, “I’m sorry for the … well, for everything.”

“No worries, Wonwoo-yah. I really need to go now, though. Remember to take your eyedrops before”, the manager said and vanished again.

Wonwoo took out his eyedrops, putting them in. He hated them with a passion but there was nothing he could do. His eyes were always so dry - one of the reasons he never really wore contacts in the first place, the other his hand tremor making it too hard to put them in - and today wasn’t a good day to begin with. As he unpacked the lenses, he accidentally had a glance at the expiration date printed on the case. 

At once his heart dropped to his stomach. With the expiry rate this close to that day’s date it was clear that this was a very, very old pair. If he had to guess likely from over three years ago - meaning that it wasn’t his current prescription. He knew that it wasn’t the best idea to wear lenses that were so outdated and would probably hurt his eyes but he also couldn’t just not wear them. Not after his manager had run all the way down to the car to get them. Not if he would otherwise be a stumbling, blind idiot who should have remembered to pack the right prescription that morning. He’d rather have slightly less blurry sight than go completely without help, thank you very much. 

Putting them in was as awful as it always was. It was hard to place them with his hand shaking so much. And, beside the fact that it was just wrong to have something directly on his eyes, he just couldn’t tell if they were placed correctly. After fumbling around for a few minutes, he gave up. It would have to do.

Already he could feel the headache starting.

When he arrived at the studio where they would take the pictures he was regretting his decision. It was even more awful to see less blurry than he normally did. At least that level he was used to. But taking the lenses out again was out of the question.

At least the atmosphere at the set was nice. He had worked with that particular photographer before and liked him well enough. It would be doable. Then he recognized belatedly who the woman waiting for him was.

“Good morning, Wonwoo-ssi”, the director greeted him with a small bow.

Wonwoo smiled at her, greeting her as well. He liked the woman, though she was a high executive for The Face Shop she always took the time to come greet him when he was asked to model for them - like today. It was nice to chat with her and often she would speak about the concept and even watch some of the photoshoot later on. He considered himself very lucky that she approached him with grace and kindness, never once making anything awkward despite his own awkwardness and shyness around strangers.

“I’m sorry for the delay”, he apologized, bowing his head.

“Don’t worry about it. Stuff happens. Sadly, I won’t be able to watch the whole shoot today but I will pop in sometimes to see how it’s going, alright?”

“Thank you, director-nim.”

💎

(No, no more)

Two hours later, Wonwoo was done with the day.

Constantly trying to compensate for blurry vision and simultaneously trying not to look like he was doing it was hard. A headache was pounding in his skull at the same time as his heartbeat. His eyes were extremely dry and stung so badly he could barely tolerate the harsh overhead lights. A dull sense of nausea swirled in his stomach - topping off a terrible day.

Yet, he continued. There was no sense in breaking off the photo shoot now and going back another day. Even worse, the director had come back in a few minutes ago - he liked her a lot, that was true, but he really wasn’t up for any idle chit-chat or for her to watch him as he fumbled his way through the shoot. He knew it wasn’t up to his standard, he knew he would hate whatever pictures the photographer would take.

“Wonwoo-ssi? Is everything alright?”, the director asked out of the blue. Wonwoo looked up, blinking harshly and trying to focus on her. His head swirled for a moment as he tried to adjust himself to look over where the photographer and the director were talking quietly with each other.

He couldn’t bring out much more than a pathetic: “Huh?”

“Your eyes look really red and watery”, the photographer commented, “let’s pull the pictures up on the screen but I’m afraid it will show.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Wonwoo took a deep breath and stepped down the platform he had been standing on for the shoot. Well, he tried to. With his vision blurry as it was he misstepped, expecting a bigger height than it actually was and slammed his foot against the ground. Immediately a hot pain shot up his ankle up to his calf, causing Wonwoo to stumble and drawing a sharp hiss from between his teeth.

“Are you alright?”, the director asked worriedly, hurrying over to Wonwoo who stood rooted to the ground as he tried to figure out if it was just a momentary pain or something worse. 

“I …”, Wonwoo tried to speak up but broke off. He wasn’t alright, so much was clear. But he also couldn’t just ask to stop the photoshoot now, could he?

“It’s your foot, isn’t it? The impact looked painful? Did you misjudge the distance or were you dizzy or something?”, the director fretted. Wonwoo didn’t expect her to reach out to him, flinching as she touched his arm. 

He could tell he was getting overwhelmed, everything becoming just a bit too much and too big for him. His ankle was throbbing, his eyes and head were aching and he was slowly becoming really dizzy and nauseous from his swimming vision. 

The director seemed to take his silence and flinch as a sign that something was wrong, apologizing for scaring him and then adding: “Come on, let’s sit down, okay?”

Wonwoo let himself be pushed down onto the step, sitting down and stretching out his leg. Now that the immediate moment of impact was over he could tell it was indeed just the shock that had hurt, the pain in his foot slowly ebbing away.

At least something, even if he nearly wished that it was instead the headache that had faded. 

“I’m fine, director-nim”, he said then, glad he finally found his words. “I think I just slipped. The pain is much better. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Are you sure? That looked painful”, she replied, sounding unconvinced. 

“Yeah, I’m good to continue. My foot is fine, really.”

“What’s wrong with your eyes then?”, she asked bluntly. “Wonwoo-ssi, I’m really sorry, even if we wanted to continue - your eyes look really red and swollen. What is going on today? This isn’t like you.”

Wonwoo sighed, not really wanting to reveal his struggle to her. He was still a bit embarrassed about forgetting the contacts in the first place and he knew that he was costing both companies a lot of money at the moment.

“I … I forgot my contact lenses at home”, he started hesitantly, despite his weariness. She had been nothing but kind to him and he really had nothing to win with lying anyways, if they couldn’t continue. He didn’t want to imagine how bad his eyes looked considering how awful they felt. “My manager had some old ones in the car but it’s a really old prescription and normally my eyes don’t do well with contacts anyways. Guess it’s all catching up to me now.”

The director hummed sympathetically. “You’re having a really crappy day, hm? Why don’t you call your manager and go home? I think we should have enough pictures for it to work out. If not we’ll just reschedule the shoot. It’s no big issue. There is no sense in continuing. And don’t you dare apologize again.”

“Sorry”, Wonwoo offered, then sheepishly ducked his head. “I, yeah, I guess I should go home.”

What else was there to be done? 

The director even went so far as to grab him something to drink and get his phone so he could call somebody to take him home. As he held his phone in his hand, ready to dial the manager, he was hit with a sudden sense of longing.

The manager was a kind man and he had been with the team for a long time. But …

… if Wonwoo was really honest to himself, he just wanted his hyungs after everything that had happened.

Without further thought, scared he would talk himself out of it if he hesitated any longer, Wonwoo dialed the number and lifted his phone to his ear, closing his eyes in exhaustion.

“Hey, Wonwoo-yah”, Seungcheol greeted happily, “how is your photoshoot going?”

“Hyung? Can you come and get me?”, Wonwoo whispered, feeling a bit choked up all of a sudden. 

“Yes, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can”, Seungcheol promised immediately, with no hint of hesitation, his voice dripping with concern, “but Wonwoo-yah, what happened?”

“It’s a long story.”

💎

By the time Seungcheol arrived, Wonwoo was desperate for a hug. He had already switched back to the jeans and comfy hoodie he had arrived in, most of the make-up wiped away. However, no matter how much he had tried and no matter how careful the stylist had been during her tries, they couldn’t get the contacts out.

Wonwoo knew it was a risk - using them with dry eyes always was a bad idea - but now with his eyes burning and watering it seemed to be impossible.

“Wonwoo-yah”, Seungcheol called, rushing inside the room not caring for anything but getting to his dongsaeng. 

“Hyung”, Wonwoo replied, his voice coming out shakier and more desperate than expected. He turned around on the swivel make-up chair just in time. Within seconds he was wrapped in a strong embrace, Seungcheol holding him tightly and even gently cupping Wonwoo’s head to his chest with his hand. 

“I’m here, baby”, Seungcheol said and Wonwoo could just imagine the worried pout he probably had on his face, the same one he always had when one of his “kids” was sick or injured. Just breathing in his leader’s perfume gave Wonwoo a sense of home, making him grab onto the back of Seungcheol’s hoodie. He was aware that he was embarrassing himself in front of the director and the stylist but for once he couldn't care less.

After a few moments of just rocking them both from side to side, Seungcheol carefully pulled away. Wonwoo reluctantly let him, dropping his hands to his lap and staring down. 

Suddenly he was embarrassed. He never should have asked Seungcheol to come - the leader had a lot on his plate and Wonwoo could have easily called the manager. Well, the manager might not have been available but that was a different story. Seungcheol hadn’t needed to drive across the whole city just to collect one of his hyung-line members who was too stupid to remember to pack his contact lenses. 

“Ah, ah, I know that face”, Seungcheol said, his hand coming up to cradle Wonwoo’s cheek, “don’t apologize. From what you said I know you had a terrible day and, I’m sorry for being this blunt, but you look awful. I’m glad to be here for you.”

“Thanks”, Wonwoo mumbled quietly, face heating up under the caring attention. It always blew his mind just how much Seungcheol loved them all, loved him.

“Thank you for coming to take him home, S.Coups-ssi”, the director said, stepping over to them in the silence that followed, “I’m the director. Nice to meet you in person.” 

“Nice to meet you too”, Seungccheol replied politely, bowing slightly. “Is it alright if I take Wonwoo home now or is there anything you need to talk about with the contract?”

“No, no. Take him. If there is anything we need to go, I’ll call his manager in the next few days. Maybe we got enough good pictures before we needed to stop. I think the most important thing right now is to get his contacts out.”

“They are not out?”, the leader asked worriedly, turning to Wonwoo again, automatically placing his hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder.

Wonwoo shook his head. “I couldn’t. It hurts. I can’t keep my eyes open to get them and with my hand tremor I’m not steady enough anyway.”

Seungcheol hummed unhappily. “I doubt you want to go to the ER. Why don’t I drive us home and then we can try to figure out how to do this? I think Hannie can help. What do you think?”

“Yeah, let’s go home”, Wonwoo croaked. 

💎

Getting to the car was a mess. By the time they made it, Wonwoo was shaking all over, vision swimming so badly he could barely see anything but vague lights and he was clutching Seungcheol’s arm for dear life. The headache had not relented and he wasn’t sure if the rolling feeling in his stomach was nerves or nausea.

He collapsed into the seat, too exhausted to even buckle himself up. So Seungcheol did, gently talking to Wonwoo about his day to keep his mind off everything. How he had gotten brunch with the maknae-line members, how Seungkwan and Dino had play-fought over the last egg and gotten so distracted with it that they hadn’t noticed Vernon peeling and eating the whole thing until it was gone. How long and boring the meeting with the company executives was. How he had worked in the studio with Woozi, who had accidentally deleted a sample when he had sneezed and consequently pouted through the whole writing session. How he had been dancing with Jeonghan when Wonwoo had called. It was a nice distraction, enough to loosen some of the tension in Wonwoo’s shoulders. 

“Close your eyes”, Seungcheol suggested as he started the ignition, “sleep if you can. We’ll figure everything out, okay?”

Wonwoo hummed in response, taking the advice. 

He didn’t manage to fall asleep, however. The stop and go of the Seoul traffic was causing his stomach to slowly turn even more sour than before. It was no surprise, Wonwoo was normally already prone to motion sickness and apparently closing his eyes was the wrong move. Normally he would be fine in the front seat so maybe the issue was that his eyes couldn’t tell his body which motion to expect. 

So he opened his eyes only to realize … that this wasn’t a solution at all. With his vision so blurry he couldn’t tell what was about to happen anyway. If anything the bright light was making his eyes burn and his head pound more.

It took about three intersections and the constant rocking of the car when stopping and starting again, that Wonwoo had to admit defeat. Holding out was not an option.

“Hyungie”, he spoke up quietly, hesitantly.

“Yeah?” Seungcheol seemed completely focused on the street in front of him, for which Wonwoo was thankful but he also just wanted him to realize what was wrong without having to speak up. 

Today was really not his day.

“I’m … I’m really nauseous.” Wonwoo breathed out. “I think I’m carsick...”

“Oh. Okay. Uhm, try to look out the front … oh…” Seungcheol realized the problem quickly. Wonwoo could imagine the concerned frown of his face perfectly.

“Yeah”, he whispered. 

“It’s still about fifteen minutes of driving. I can’t really pull over anywhere…”, Seungcheol said worriedly - probably both for his dongsaeng and his car interior. “Do you think you can hold out that long?”

Wonwoo bit his lip. His stomach was really upset now and his whole body was clouded in the shroud of nausea that made everything feel lethargic and unwell. His throat was tight in a very uncomfortable way and he had to compulsory swallow every few seconds.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” He felt close to crying but it was bad enough that he was mostly blind and carsick in his hyung’s car. If Wonwoo started to cry now he didn’t think he could ever stop again.

“Okay, it’s okay”, Seungcheol said, probably sensing Wonwoo’s impending breakdown and resting one of his hands on Wonwoo’s knee. “I don’t think I have a bag. Let’s just put your backpack on the backseat just in case. The floor matts can be cleaned easily enough.”

There was nothing Wonwoo wanted to do less than throw up in his hyung’s car - literally. 

He grabbed his bag nevertheless and haphazardly threw it into the back, then leaned straight up against the seat, hoping it would help somehow. Seungcheol’s hand never left his knee.

💎

After a few minutes of deep breaths, he couldn’t help it anymore. He was so nauseous it was painful, his stomach cramping under his hand, the other hand pressed to his mouth. All he could do was swallow and pray.

“Wonwoo, baby, don’t hurt yourself”, Seungcheol interfered gently, “if you need to be sick, let it happen. Maybe you’ll feel better after. It’s really okay.” The leader's attention seemed to be more on Wonwoo than on the traffic now, as loud honks signaled.

“Eyes on the ro…”, Wonwoo pressed out, a sudden gag surprising him. It all happened so quickly that he couldn’t stop it. His body bent forward without any of his conscious doing, a prelude of what was to happen. Spreading his legs was all he could do before he was throwing up onto the expensive interior. He pressed his burning eyes shut against the sight.

“Shh, breathe”, Seungcheol soothed, patting Wonwoo’s back even while driving. Vaguely Wonwoo hoped he was paying more attention to the street now but he was too preoccupied with turning himself inside out to worry too much about it. 

His stomach contracted again and again and everything that Wonwoo had eaten spilled down his lips and dripped down his chin. He was so nauseated and dizzy he could barely tell where up and down was, his hands pressing against his head, elbows on his knees, the only thing giving him a bit of orientation. 

He felt disgusting, nauseous, sweaty and most of all very humiliated and tired. His stomach was churning relentlessly and he didn’t dare lift his head up for the rest of the drive even when he hadn’t thrown up in a good five minutes. He probably was just empty though, nausea still present nevertheless. 

The headache seemed to reach new highs as he sat there trembling all over, sure he would lose any grip he had on himself should Seungcheol take his hand off his back. And indeed, as they pulled into the parking garage of their building and Seungcheol had to let go of him to park, Wonwoo couldn’t help the whimper escaping his lips. Tears and snot streamed down his face.

“Oh, Wonwoo-yah”, Seungcheol said, sounding a bit helpless. “We’re here. It’s gonna be alright. I texted Hannie, he is gonna help us get upstairs. We’ll get the contacts out and then you can go to sleep for as long as you want.”

They stayed like that with Wonwoo queasily bent over his mess and Seungcheol rubbing his back and muttering comforting nonsense until the passenger door was opened and Jeonghan said: “Oh, Wonwoo, baby. Come on, let’s get out of the car.”

With the help of his second oldest hyung, Wonwoo was able to stand on wobbly legs while holding onto Jeonghan for stability. All his strength had left him between entering the car and now getting out and as he could barely open his eyes anymore he was terribly disoriented. It was easier to just close his aching eyes and depend on his hyungs.

“Can you get him upstairs, Hannie?”, Seungcheol asked, voice coming closer as he exited the car himself and placed a warm hand on Wonwoo’s hip. “I’ll try to clean out the car.”

Wonwoo buried his face in Jeonghan’s shoulder, clutching at his hyung in humiliation. “I’m so sorry”, he whispered, voice muffled by the comfortable sweatshirt Jeongan wore. 

“Don’t be sorry”, Seungcheol comforted, “it’s alright. You’re not well.”

“Let’s go, hm?”, Jeonghan said, wrapping his arm around Wonwoo’s waist to guide him. “You trust hyung, don’t you?”

All Wonwoo could do was nod and let himself be led.

💎

Jeonghan brought him to the apartment Wonwoo shared with their general leader, Joshua, Mingyu and Minghao. They were all familiar with the layouts of each other's apartments, spending a lot of time just cycling through the dorms but Wonwoo was still glad for the familiarity. 

At least it seemed like none of the other members were home at the moment.

Wonwoo was sat down on the closed toilet seat, slumping into himself in exhaustion while Jeonghan bustled around. 

“Are you still nauseous?”, Jeonghan asked before a clattering sound signaled to Wonwoo that he had placed down a bucket just in case no matter what Wonwoo would answer. 

“A bit”, he admitted, “but it’s now more from my headache than motion sickness.”

“Is it from the contact lenses or something else?”, Jeonghan asked, his voice sounding close like he was crouched down in front of Wonwoo. Indeed, a few seconds later, Jeonghan took his hand and pressed a cup into his hand. “Rinse.”

How did Jeonghan know? Then again, Seungcheol probably had texted him the whole story or at least enough information that Jeonghan knew what was going on. 

Playing for time, Wonwoo swished out his mouth with the offered mouthwash, happy to wash the taste of puke away. It was then that he realized he needed to get to the sink to spit it out and he really didn’t want to get up and stumbled his way there. 

As if he had read his mind Jeonghan advised: “Just spit it back into the cup, I can dump it out in the sink. You rest.”

Too dizzy and exhausted to fight the renewed embarrassment creeping up on him, Wonwoo did as asked. He felt terribly self-conscious when he pressed the cup over his mouth and let the mouthwash fall back into it but Jeonghan didn’t seem to care. He just took the cup from him and set it aside, then patted Wonwoo’s knee.

“Tell me how you feel”, Jeonghan encouraged, pushing a strand of Wonwoo’s hair behind his ear. 

“My head hurts”, Wonwoo hesitantly started. “Maybe because of how blurry my vision is. Or due to dehydration” - a mix of throwing up and crying would do that - “I dunno. My eyes are burning really badly and I can barely see when I open my eyes. I just want to sleep.”

“You can soon, hm?”, Jeonghan said in his soothing voice, reserved for hysterical and sad dongsaengs. If he wasn’t so exhausted Wonwoo would have been offended that he used it on him. “Let’s try to get those contacts out. Pain meds and sleep after.”

💎

It wasn’t as easy as Jeonghan had seemed to imagine. The dryness of his eyes caused the lenses to stick to Wonwoo’s eyes, and the burning pain from the wrong prescription and the blurriness of his vision caused Wonwoo to not being able to keep his eyes open, especially as he closed them reflexively when the darkness of Jeonghan’s finger came close.

After numerous fruitless tries, Wonwoo gave a frustrated cry, curling into himself as much as he could. It was a scary experience - something in his eyes that was damaging them and refused to come out terrifying. Especially with his already fragile state of mind he was slowly becoming numb and restless at the same time.

That was when Seungcheol came in, apparently having cleaned … no, Wonwoo didn’t want to think about it. 

“No success?”, he asked worriedly, seeing Jeonghan hovering over Wonwoo, with the latter hugging himself in defeat.

“No.” Jeonghan sighed. “ER?”

“No, please”, Wonwoo whispered. He couldn’t take going to a bustling hospital on top of everything. 

“Let’s try a different approach and if that doesn’t work, we will go to the doctor”, Seungcheol decided.

💎

Five minutes later, Wonwoo found himself basically sitting on Seungcheol’s lap, leaning back against his leader and wrapped safely in his arms. The hyungs had decided they should relocate to the couch to create a more relaxed atmosphere which apparently meant that Wonwoo was going to be cuddled. If he was honest, he didn’t mind. 

Seungcheol was leaning back against the backrest and had Wonwoo rest against his shoulder so that Jeonghan had easy access to his eyes.

“Are you comfy?”, the leader asked gently.

“Yeah”, Wonwoo mumbled, feeling the tips of his ears turn red. Deep down he loved the doting and coddling but it was weird nevertheless. It seemed so exposed in the living room where suddenly a member coming home from schedules could see. 

“Okay, I’m going to put in more eyedrops now”, Jeonghan said and carefully squeezed some of the liquid into Wonwoo’s eyes. “Blink a bit to get it moving around.”

Wonwoo did as bid. 

“Ready?”, Jeonghan asked. Wonwoo nodded, for the first time feeling like he could do this. Seungcheol had taken his hands in his own, their intertwined hands a nice weight on Wonwoo’s stomach. With Seungcheol holding him and Jeonghan’s gentleness, maybe this could work.

Jeonghan pushed his eyelid up, which made Wonwoo’s eyes burn. But then he realized it was very dark in the room and he couldn’t even see Jeonghan’s face or his hands. 

“Why is it so dark?”, he asked, fear making his chest ache. Rationally he knew he was overreacting but having issues with his eyes and then opening to find himself unable to see anything was unsettling. “What…?”

“Shhh, it’s okay”, Seungcheol soothed, playing with Wonwoo’s fingers in comfort. “We thought it might be easier for you if you couldn’t see your hyungs’ hand coming closer. I promise there is enough light for Hannie to see what he is doing. I thought you heard us talking but you were really spaced out, huh?”

“I guess”, Wonwoo mumbled, feeling a bit ridiculous how he had overreacted. But well, with the day he had, no wonder his nerves were fried. The rational explanation of his emotional state barely comforted him.

“Okay, love, take a deep breath while I wash my hands again. I’m going to be very careful, okay?”, Jeonghan said, his thumb rubbing Wonwoo’s cheek. 

Wonwoo nodded and breathed.

💎

All too soon Jeonghan was back. Gently he pushed the eyelid up again. Then without any warning, Wonwoo could feel his hand connect and then: “I got it.”

Tears streamed down Wonwoo’s cheek in relief. 

“Let’s do the other side as well, okay?”, Jeonghan said.

This time it wasn’t so easy. The lense didn’t seem to want to stick to Jeonghan’s finger, no matter how he tried. 

“Baby, I can’t keep doing this. One more try and then I feel like we need to consult a specialist”, Jeonhan mumbled, sounding devastated. By that time, Wonwoo was so exhausted that he couldn’t care less. Did he want to go to the hospital? Obviously not. But if it put him out of misery he could do it.

“I’m sorry.”

Suddenly faced with the very real possibility of going to the ER and getting prodded by doctors and nurses and especially with having to drive there, Wonwoo did not want that. “Can you try one more time, hyung?”

“One last time, baby”, Jeonghan agreed, “breathe.”

Wonwoo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Do it.”

Jeonghan’s finger made contact with his eye. A cheer. Congratulations. Words spoken in kindness and comfort. Wonwoo just closed his eyes and let the tears fall again. Seungcheol turned Wonwoo so that he was laying on his stomach, on top of his leader who was rubbing his back and whispering sweet nothingness.

💎

Wonwoo woke up hours later to a blanket spread over him and Seungcheol and a hand holding his. His eyes burned and hurt but not nearly as badly as before. Blinking against the low light coming from the kitchen, he found Jeonghan asleep sitting on the ground by their side, leaning back against the couch and his fingers entangled with Wonwoo’s. Somebody had placed a pillow against his neck and he looked mostly comfortable, also cuddled up under a blanket.

Minghao, holding a cup of tea, was smiling at him from the second couch. Soft clatter from the kitchen indicated Joshua and Mingyu cooking together.

Wonwoo sighed and nuzzled his face into Seungcheol’s shoulder. He was cozy like this.

(It’s okay, again)

Notes: Written for this Dialogue prompt idea for @dudadragneel! It’s not June anymore but I finally finished it! Also, based on this prompt!

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - SEVENTEEN

[brie-annwyl]

Hey my little gangsters,

Sooooo update

We cuddled for over 4 hours after the car yap sesh, in his bed, he was softly rubbing my back whilst I was showing him brain rot memes.

We kissed as well.

Then disaster strikes.

I remember he accidentally let slip earlier that night that he was going through a recent break up.

I asked him when he broke up with his ex.

10 minutes before I came over the first night.

Oh.

I asked him what this was

He didn’t really have an answer for me

He tries to keep me cuddled up with him and he succeeds.

We over slept and a had to quickly leave so I wouldn’t be late to work.

Now I’m at said job.

I sent him a message telling him I wasn’t interested in being a rebound because that could get messy and I think he should take some time to think about what he wants and needs rn.

He agrees

And I cannot stop thinking about it.

Gang I’m cookeddddddd 😭😭😭

I’m having a y/n moment and cuddling with my bestie’s brother.

My legs? Across his lap. His arms? On my legs as his hands are ON MY LEGS AND THIGHS.

My bestie is also sitting right next to us.

We’re watching snapcube.

What do I do ??? How do I live in this situation????????