#His best friend just attacked him and I just -

[ephie-om]

Mephistopheles strides through the halls of the castle with purpose, his cane clacking against the floor. He only stops momentarily to smooth his waistcoat and hair before rapping on the door of Diavolo's office, entering when he hears a muffled 'come in'. He clears his throat as the door swings open, "Lord Diavolo, I've come to discuss the budget for this year's-"

"Not business again," the Prince groans.

"I'm sorry, my Lord?"

Diavolo appears deep in thought before changing the subject at light speed. "You know, nothing much surprises you any more, my friend."

Mephistopheles puffs out his chest a bit at that. "No, my Lord. I do my best to take everything into account. I should not be surprised."

A devilish grin spreads across Diavolo's face. "Let's change that."

“What?”

A shing sounds from behind the massive wooden desk and Mephisto’s reflexes are the only thing that saves him. He switches the cane to his left hand as the Prince sends something flying towards his face. He manages to catch it and barely has time to process that his Prince has just thrown a fucking sword at him before Diavolo starts to attack.

His massive frame hurtles over top of the desk with ease and his own sword comes into view: a bastard sword, by the looks of it, the hilt encrusted with three small red gems and inlaid artfully with gold. The sword that Mephisto finds in his hand is a deft rapier, sharpened to a wicked point. A bronze-colored alloy wraps around the handguard and blends seamless into the blade. It's a simple weapon, beautiful in appearance, but deadly in precision.

Diavolo wastes no time in slicing towards his midsection and Mephisto is forced to pivot on one foot. Diavolo raises his sword after the miss, nearly nicking Mephisto's chin in the process, and readies himself to slam down on the demon’s head with the flat of the blade.

Whatever the Prince throws at him, Mephisto does pride himself on being adaptive, and he can already tell that Diavolo won't be satisfied unless he sees some real effort. He watches his opponent's body language closely, and sees that even with his sheer amount of muscle, Diavolo's sword is heavy. It takes time to move it around after a miss, so all he has to do is bide his time.

The chop from above nearly cracks him in the skull, but he uses the cane in his left hand to brace himself and push his body out of the way just in time. Diavolo's sword nearly buries itself in the floor from the force of the swing, and Mephisto has a millisecond of gut-wrenching fear as he realized that sword was aimed for him.

Diavolo starts to wrest the sword back up, but Mephisto quickly takes the opening to thrust at his midsection and pull his cane back under him. Diavolo is forced to dodge backwards, reversing his momentum and putting his sword in front of him. That miniscule step gives Mephisto the half second he needs.

He lunges, throwing all his weight into his good leg as the rapier speeds forward. Diavolo, distracted by readying his weapon, sees it just a moment too late and the point stabs into his sword arm. Diavolo curses, and his blade falters. Mephisto brings his back leg up, invading the Prince's range. Even if he could get his sword up now, it was nearly too long to do anything. Mephisto sights his opening, twists, and his blade swishes across the space between them. His hand raises into the air, blade pointed up and away from his opponent, and he delivers a single, devastatingly precise blow with the sword’s pommel to the junction between Diavolo's neck and shoulder.

He stumbles back, raising his hands in the air. “I concede, I concede.” Mephisto takes a half step back, the realization finally setting in. He has just hit, and drawn blood, from the future ruler of the Devildom. He can feel the blood drain from his face as he raises his eyes to meet Diavolo's shining golden ones.

The Prince laughs, that loud, hearty laugh he only does when something unexpected happens. “That was an incredible show, my friend! Well done!”

Mephisto tries to form a sentence that doesn't involve the words “was that treason” and fails. Diavolo claps him on the back with such force he nearly falls and graciously takes the sword back. “Oh, we're alright,” he says over Mephisto's head, and he turns to see Barbatos’ concerned face in the doorway. “Just had to blow off a little steam.”

He sits back down in his chair, pulling a small container of ointment from his desk drawer and works it into the wound on his arm. Mephisto remains frozen in place until he hears a noise from the door. The butler is gone by the time he turns his head, but he swears it was laughter.

The Prince sits innocently, not a hair out of place, the only evidence that anything from the past five minutes even occurred being the soreness in his right shoulder. “Now, I believe you had some sort of budget to discuss with me?”

[seasprincess]

Stiles Stilinski x female reader

a chemistry project with a lot of chemistry

a/n: (that was a funny one thanks)

warnings: none just fluff!!

Stiles Stilinski is the biggest worrier in the world. All his friends know it.

However Stiles, well he has no clue just how much he worries. He can’t see it. It’s normal to him.

But it’s evident now as he scouts his room, making sure it’s all clean. Plumping up the pillows on his bed. He wants this to be perfect. He wants you to think the best of him.

God you’re only coming for the chemistry project. He’s acting like it’s an army inspection. That he’s going to get flamed if there is a spot of dust on his desk.

What if you think bad of him? What if you’re not comfortable? What if. What if. What if.

The doorbell signals your arrival and gives him a heart attack. He’s having to mentally prepare himself for this for the past day. You sprung on the question of doing the project at his house. He got excited and said yes a little bit too fast. Now he’s rather regretting it.

He’s had many people over to his house. And by many people he means Scott thousands of times.

Never has he had a girl over, especially not in his room.

“I got some chocolate if you want some?” Stiles says as he looks at you. Making sure you’re okay.

For the past couple hours Stiles has been checking in on you. And as sweet as it is. It is a lot.

“Or I can get you s-“

“Stiles.” As you say his name he shuts up, for the first time ever Stiles is quiet. Not that it will last. “I’m okay. Thank you.”

You smile at him and all he can do is melt. He thinks you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. He’s never felt this way about someone, not even Lydia. And that was bad.

From the moment you joined the school he knew he liked you. The way you’d crack jokes, be sarcastic and get anxious at a lot of things.

You were so similar to him it made him connect with you instantly.

“Just let me know if you need anything.”

Gosh is he the sweetest. He’s been so kind to you since that day in chemistry where he invited you to sit with him. Joking between each other which eventually led you here. To his room.

On his bed.

“You’ve never watched Star Wars?!” Stiles’ eyebrows shoot up as he looks at you, sitting up a bit taller at your confession. God he is shocked out of his mind. “You’ve never watched Star Wars?!” He repeats again in utter disbelief. He feels he’s been stabbed in the heart. The girl he likes has bever seen his favourite franchise.

“I’m sorry!” You say as you hold your hands up in mock surrender. Smiling away as you look at him. You’ve noticed the posters of Star Wars in his room, the multiple shirts that are Star Wars themed that he owns.

You’ve just committed an act of treason in this house. “It’s just not my thing.”

“But it’s one of the greatest franchises in the history of cinema. I mean the whole concept of another-”

Stiles continues to ramble on about it. Not even pausing for a breath as he just keeps talking. That’s one thing you have noticed about him. He never shuts up.

Ever.

So you decide to take things into your own hands. Literally.

Your hands cup his cheeks as you look at him. His mouth closing and eyes looking onto you. Staring at you as he freezes up.

You smile at him before he leans in and kisses you. One way to shut him up.

For at least a couple of seconds.

“Shit I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” He says as he pulls away, panicking like he’s late for something. He’s just fucked everything up. He thought it was going well too. Good job Stiles.

“You’re okay. It’s fine.” You say softly to calm the anxious boy down.

Unknown to him he didn’t fuck it up. Not at all. You’ve been wanting him to kiss you ever since you first laid eyes on him. Embarrassingly you’ve imagined it. Not that he’ll ever know.

You grab his cheek again before pressing your lips to his, slowly kissing the boy that’s been in your mind for the past month.

After a couple moments you pull back smiling. Stiles smile beaming on his face before he opens his mouth.

“Still can’t believe you haven’t seen Star Wars.”

a/n: i love stiles

divider- @tsunami-of-tears

tags- @mayfieldss @inlovewithdob

[ganondoodle]

can you tell us more ab shargon’s kids?? :0

(sorry for the ... very rough sketch and probably unreadable text, struggeling alot with art atm ... still ..)

Thank you for asking!

Shargon has two young children, Jyothi and Tyura (forgive the weird names, made them when i was young and they are too ingrained now to change ..)

(Shargon is a single parent; demons do not have a gender/only one, all of them have the ability to bear children with an organ that sits right beneath the demonic heart, they also do not need a partner, they can just decide to have a child and trigger the process- while carrying they cannot shapeshift since an unborn demon cannot go along with that- genetics are usually not a problem since demons generally draw from a huge gene pool dating back eons; if they have a partner they will have to exchange some heartblood for the child to be a mix of both; growing a child is very energy draining and when carrying its not unusual for a demon to resort to consuming food, which they typically dont need to do; maintaining a certain energy level is very important since otherwise the risk of deformities in the child increases alot; a newborn demon (birth occurs through the mouth) has a few baby teeth with which to bite its parent/caretaker and feed on their demonic blood, it is not a requirement but many do since it accelerates their growth and can even out energy imbalances)

Jyothi, comparable to a 13 year old human, is a rather healthy young demon with alot of skill using elemental magic (wind in her case), which is why shes being taught by Lord Eadrya; Eadrya wants Shargon dead and regularly attacks him and although both of his children inherited his unnatural and hated/feared eye color, Jyothi stood up to Eadrya not knowing who they were at the time (and thus not their status and reputation) since Shargon lives extremely isolated- and even challenged them to a fight showing so much character and skill that Eadrya saw past her heritage and offered to teach her

The two get along well and she often sneaks away to find them bc she is so eager to learn and spend time with such a powerful and careless demon that everyone respects ... unlike her parent, who is weak, riddled with anxiety and hated by everyone, she still loves him of course, but the more time she spends away the more she adopts the way the other demons think and speak of Shargon

Shargon hates that she goes to them so much, mostly bc he is afraid they, and especially Eadrya, will hurt her or stop her from returning home, even with her special status bc of her talents, she still is his child after all; he does not and could not force her to not go though (a benefit is that she has been the only one besides Thor (Eadryas best friend) able to stop Eadrya from literally killing Shargon, as much as they are horrible to him, they do care alot for her)

(Jyothi has only started to grow her horns and her markings and colors will shift alot as she grows, as is typical for young demons)

Tyura, comparable to a 6 year old human, is much more like Shargon himself, very fearful and skitters away if theres anything they are unsure of, they are of the same elemental type as Shargon (lightning) but thus far has never used it beyond weak defensive shocks; they are also mute and have a deformed left hand likely bc Shargon was attacked and hunted for a long time while carrying them, thus not able to provide a stable energy level the other demons know of them but any attempt to get close to them has been prevented either by Shargon himself or .. Tyura fleeing and hiding (their body structure is also rather similar, the round shape is largely just fluffy feathers)

when Shargon is in the human world his children tend to stay with the only other demon he can trust (Ceryrion, an earth elemental and the chillest guy you can imagine), they dont like him much but love children and will happily go about their day while a little Tyura clings onto their back (though Tyura will absolutely dive back to Shargon whenever they notice his presence) both kids have been to the human world before but since it is very uncomfortable to be in as a demon he has only done so for them to meet Mori (Shargons human friend that lives .. illegally .. at the gates to the demon world) and avoided bringing them there otherwise

the time he is away has notably increased alot after accepting the deal with Zaphira (being her bodyguard .... 24 hours a day .. granted she did not know he had children, and also didnt know anything about demons but that she could use him to solve her problems)

here i go rambling again, i hope that gave you a bit of an idea of them ;O;

[leviathis-krade]

All Santas in a time paradox where he has the experiences of each before and after, but is a guiding figure that shows the ability for compassion and provides safety when a knight needs it most

but I think Lewis had the right idea of him arriving at time where the Penivsies were fleeing from a/the foe

so we'll have a Knight in the 1400's lets create one called Ser Hromin (huh rome in) who has been questing after a known murderous Wolf that has been devouring and just killing for the sake of it; Ser Hromin has tracked it to the Den, but while trying to surprise the beast in it's sleep... he is attacked from behind losing the grip on his sword, and must now flee from the eight black hounds.

Ser Hromin has sprinted for over an hour; he's weighed down by his armor, and has shambled towards a road. On the edge of unconsciousness, our knight hears faint jingling of bells right before passing out. While in his darkened state he fears that they were the sound of angels to retrieve his immortal soul.

Coming to; Ser Hromin finds the strong smell of peppermint & spices in the air, he hears a jovial: "Ho ho ho, good lad you managed to survive!" he sees a rather round but kind faced knight clad in bright red leather and shining white silver armour, "I were on my sleigh following news that a fellow Man of Camelot were in these parts."

"I-I.. I thank you milord for rescuing me in a meek state." Ser Hromin managed to stammer out right before the fat man hands him a fine treasure; a glass bottle filled with a sweet scented potion, "Milord I graciously accept this but, the Wolf-beast I came to slay was in fact that and seven more vicious black dogs."

"Well good Ser, I Ni'Claus wilt help thee in yer task; fear not for thine lost sword... they may be our lives, but here is one more" he states as he pulls a sword in a deep red leather scabbard & passes it to Ser Hromin. "We cannot have a knight be unarmed in the face evil." He smiles broadly, "drink up and rest thou art still exhausted, have some cookies and meat pudding. From yer looks I assume thee to be Ser Hromin son of Castur and lady Tuvas, the villagers in these parts hath said a righteous knight t'were here and there."

Ser Hromin had difficultly accepting the comforts during the night, though he rested well. This fellow knight spoke of things in his past he had not spake of to passerbys; he knew of his family line and was like a grandfather he never had. In the late morning Ni'Claus took Hromin upon his sleigh naming off his steeds each before they nearly flew as fast a bird through and around the thickets back to the den.

Having not drawn the sword in the night he did so finally before the mouth of this small cave and it was a blade of truest steel, brilliant like silver but perfectly balanced with a sharpness that made his old sword look like an flattened iron rod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The fight with the Eight black beasts was certainly easier alongside the jolly fat man, but he was also taken aback at how well he moved at such an age; truly he was the best knight of the round, he might even be able to best Arthur in a duel. Half and half were the hounds slew Hromin & had a sense that Ni'Claus could have done this without his weakened self and that he saw how his shining knight companion lead the hounds into a trap for Hromin to spring

after which Hromin tried, "I would return that which is yours Ni'Claus," he said handing the new sword back, "it is of truer steel than even mine own mettle."

"Ho ho ho! I have no need of it, and your old one could use a friend;" He bellows with a wink, "also it being near Christmas think of it as a gift that might raise your spirits on these cold winter nights."

Ser Hromin still feeling unworthy of this present reluctantly accepts it, "milord; Ser Ni'Claus, as a fellow knight of the round might there be a quest that ye need help with?"

He smiles like the sun handing him a hefty leather sack, "If yer willing an able take this to the township a few leagues east of here I wouldst be most grateful, seeing as I must head farther still in the east to deliver supplies." having seen his fellow knight agree, the jolly man boarded his sleigh and sped off shouting: "Merry Christmas!"

Ser Hromin peaked into the large sack seeing colorfully wrapped boxes with individual names upon them, and on one was that of his own son's who was in fact at their home in a village on the outskirts of Camelot's domain to the west; having been out questing for over a year and a fortnight he knew this is the perfect time to return home.

You can just make up Knights of the Round Table by the way. People used to do it all the time.

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Naive - L.C

💡Who: Lee Chan (Seventeen) x female reader 💡What: Best friends to ??? Angst. Thriller. Soft moments. Dark themes (please check warnings). 18+ 💡Word count: 11.5k 💡Warnings: Profanity. Stalking. Nonconsensual voyeurism. Nonconsensual photos. Cheating. Major injury (Not Chan or reader). Mentions of a car accident. Mentions of sexual harassment. Mentions of panic attacks and almost panic attacks. No smut, but suggestive content, some dirty talk and mentions of sexual acts. Very morally dark character. Drugging. Kidnapping. Restraints. Chan calls reader angel a lot (mostly because I don’t wanna use y/n), and baby in the second half.

Summary: Breakups are always painful, but at least you have your best friend by your side to make everything better. Right?

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- I know nothing about flower meanings, it all came straight from Wikipedia so don't blame me for inaccurate meanings, it's just a fic.

“It’s okay, he’s in the past, he’s not worth your tears,” your best friend soothes as you cry into his chest for the third night in a row.

“I-I should’ve li-listened to you,” you sob, gripping his t-shirt tighter and curling up smaller.

“It doesn’t matter now; what matters is you ended it and never have to deal with that asshole again.”

“A-asshole is too kind.”

Chan chuckles and tilts his head against the top of your head yet says nothing more and simply continues to hold you until you run out of tears for your cheating, pervert of an ex-boyfriend. Proving once again that Lee Chan is the only man you can ever trust to be good and honest.

Over a year ago, you met Lee Chan while in the gardening section of the bookstore. It was a cliché romcom moment where you both reached for the same book and your hands met before your eyes did. He smiled at you with a soft little chuckle and said something like “guess we both want to know what Victorian people thought flowers meant”, which somehow led to you both buying a copy of the book on the Victorian language of flowers to take to the nearby coffee shop with the intention of reading side by side. Though very little reading happened, and you found yourself sitting there with Chan for hours; laughing and talking as if you’ve known one another for years. It was like he was made to be the other half of you, designed with only you in mind.

At first, you thought maybe it was true; that Chan was your romantic soulmate. But you were seeing someone else at the time and pushed the thought of Chan being anything but platonic entirely out of your mind.

It’s a year and multiple failed relationships later, while you’re out shopping on a rare day off, that something changes.

“What do you think of this one?” Chan asks, drawing your attention to where he’s a few racks away donned in the black, leather biker jacket he just found on the men’s sale rack.

“Oh,” you murmur, suddenly hit with the realisation that your best friend is ridiculously attractive.

It’s not that you’ve ever thought Chan is ugly; in fact, you first paid attention to him in the bookstore past a glance because of how handsome he is. But that was over a year ago and your thoughts have never moved on from considering him the same kind of beautiful as you would a piece of art that you see in a store, yet easily move on past without looking back.

Yet now, you’ve noticed and suddenly can’t draw your eyes away from him.

“Hello?” Chan laughs, waving his arms to bring you back to reality when you do nothing more than stare at him for almost a full minute. “You alright? Getting hungry?” He pouts at you teasingly. “Does the baby need num nums?”

“I hate it when you say that” you remind and stick your middle finger up at him, making him laugh while you turn back to the sale rack you had been looking through.

“I know, why do you think I say it?” He cackles and bounces over to prod you and gain your attention back. “You didn’t say what you think? Do I look sexy?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you while posing in the jacket. “Should I get it?”

“Yeah,” you answer with a nod after taking his body in once more and turning away.

“Was that yes to getting it, or that I look sexy?” He murmurs from suddenly behind you with his mouth right by your ear. You jolt in surprise having not heard him approach, then turn to whack his arm while he cracks up laughing. “You think I’m sexyyy!” He sings loudly, just to annoy you.

“Why are we best friends again?”

“I took pity on you and your bad taste in men.” He definitely deserves the hit this time, even if he’s right.

Ever since you’ve known Chan, you’ve had nothing but terrible luck with picking men to date. You always think they’re okay at first, but then the red flags start popping up and begin waving manically in the hot air spewing from their mouths.

You really thought you had run out of bad luck and finally picked a good one with your ex. He was kind and endlessly attractive; a hard worker, yet always made time for fun and relaxation; and his parents loved you.

It lasted a whole seven months before you found another woman’s underwear in his car, and you realised you should’ve listened to Chan’s gut feeling about Kyle from the start. Finding a stack of polaroids of various women getting changed when you were emptying his apartment of your belongings that same night only made the heartache worse. Not only did he cheat on you, but he also likes to take photos of unsuspecting women through windows and cracked doors.

Upon turning your back on him three weeks ago, you decided to give up on men and always listen to Chan’s gut instincts from now on.

You don’t need a boyfriend; you just need your best friend.

Just when you’re about to leave your apartment building to meet with Chan for lunch one day, you come face to face with your ex. He looks, frankly put, like shit. He used to be so well put together, never to an obsessive degree but he was always well rested and tidy, but now he looks like he hasn’t slept or eaten in at least two days with his hair sticking up a little as if he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly. He’s still wearing nice clothes, but they’re creased, and his shoes aren’t even properly tied.

“What are you doing here?” You hiss while glaring at the man and trying to step past him, but he gets in your path with his hands held up placatingly; he even doesn’t attempt to touch you or get in your personal space.

Vaguely, you think how weird it is of him to respect that boundary yet have polaroids of you half naked in the changing room at your gym. A completely separate gym to the one he frequents too, which somehow makes it even worse; that he went so far out of his way to take the photos you never consented to.

“I just want to talk to you, please? Just a few minutes and I’ll go, and you’ll never see me again,” he pleads. The genuine desperation in his eyes makes you relent and nod. “Can we go somewhere a little less public? I’m not asking to go somewhere isolated, just not the middle of the building lobby.”

Again, you relent and move to the side of the lobby out of the light foot traffic; still perfectly in sight of others yet far enough away to have a private conversation.

“Thank you,” he breathes out gratefully and relaxes a little as you lean one shoulder against the wall with your arms crossed over your chest.

“What is it? I’m going to be late to meet Chan.”

“Right, how is he?”

“Good, it’s Chan. He’s always good.” The words are a little pointed, designed to hurt, and the way his features flinch at the jab sends a little surge of satisfaction into you. Though there’s something in you aching at that same hurt in his eyes; it looks too real.

“Yeah, he’s a good guy,” he agrees softly, and you hum. “So uh, I just…I can’t stop thinking about what happened.”

“Cheating on me or taking photos of women without their consent?” You question, glaring again at the reminder of why you want nothing to do with this man before you. This pathetic, sad eyed, mess of a man.

It’s funny how far he’s fallen in so little time. Strange how a man who cheated on you in the backseat of the same car he often pulled you into with shared giggles, can break so much at being called out on his misdeeds.

You really thought he would just move on to the next conquest and forget all about you for good, just like he did while with the other woman. Or women. You never asked how many there were.

Yet the man before you doesn’t seem to have moved on at all.

“I didn’t do either of those things,” he repeats the words he had said to you a little over a month ago. You didn’t believe him then; you were so full of anger and betrayal as you tried to cradle the pieces of your shattered heart and hoped he hadn’t stolen any of the pieces leaving you unable to stitch it back together again.

Now that you’ve let go of most of your anger and Chan has helped you in putting the pieces back together to the point that your heart is almost whole and healing, you can see through the pain and tears and notice that this man in front of you looks genuine. He’s looking at you without any attempt to look aside or shrink away. He isn’t hiding.

“I found underwear in your car Kyle,” you point out, holding your ground even if you suddenly realise that something here doesn’t feel right. “And those photos in your apartment.”

“I know, I know, and I’ve been trying to figure out how the fuck they got there because it wasn’t me.”

“You live alone and don’t share your car.”

“I know!” He exclaims, hands flying up in frustration, though it doesn’t feel like it’s aimed at you, especially as he steps back to make certain that he doesn’t accidentally hit you. Kyle’s always been considerate like that; always made sure to give you a wide berth when he flung his arms around in play or frustration. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be a cheating pervert. A man can be against physically harming his partner and still betray their trust so deeply.

“Then only you could’ve put them there.”

“No, no, I didn’t though,” he steps closer while lifting his hands between you, though he brings them to his own chest instead of touching you. “Look me in the eye and tell me I have ever done a thing to make you think I would cheat on you or take photos without consent. I never even asked you for pictures; you were the one who offered and asked if you could send me pictures months into our relationship.”

The thing is, he’s right. Although you did have sex regularly and he would send you dirty texts when he was in the mood, Kyle never asked for nudes. You had to be the one to bring it up and ask if he was against that kind of thing.

Now that he brings it up, you can vividly recall him telling you that does enjoy nudes and would certainly enjoy seeing photos of you like that, but he also knows how dangerous they can be to send and receive because of hacking, losing phones or breaking up. He had been so genuine about it and triple checked that you were comfortable with it entirely before giving you consent to send him photos whenever you wanted.

“You had those polaroids, you didn’t need me to send you any,” you reason in a mumble. You don’t even know if you believe what you’re saying at this point, or if you’re just trying to explain the behaviour away. Something isn’t sitting right in you.

“Why would I want polaroids of random women I don’t even know when I have you?” He asks, eyes silently begging you to understand.

“There were photos of me too,” you answer.

“What?” He frowns confusedly. “I didn’t see those, just the top ones before you took them all away.”

“You know I was in there, at the gym changing rooms.”

“I’ve never been anywhere near your gym!” He puts his face in his hands. “I don’t understand what the fuck is going on. I swear I have never been to your gym.” He looks at you imploringly as his hands drop. “And you know I keep my car clean, there’s no way I would’ve failed to notice that underwear; so if I did cheat on you, do you really think I’d miss the evidence and leave them somewhere you’d see them?”

You open your mouth to retort automatically, only to realise there isn’t a single word ready to roll off your tongue. He’s making far too much sense and that doesn’t make sense.

He cheated on you. He’s a pervert who takes photos of unsuspecting women in vulnerable situations. He’s a terrible person.

At least, you thought he was.

Maybe Chan is right and you’re just naïve when faced with a handsome man giving you big puppy dog eyes.

“I need to go,” you decide after a few long moments of trying to form some kind of reaction other than staring at him with furrowed brows. “Chan’s waiting.”

“Right,” Kyle lets out a disappointed sigh, yet nods resignedly and steps back as if giving you space to leave. He hadn’t been in your way in the first place but it’s a silent sign that he won’t try to stop you. “I guess I can’t say anything else to convince you that I didn’t do those things, and I never would. I…I wanted to marry you, you know?”

“What?” You whisper in shock, eyebrows lifting as your eyes turn wide. “Marry me?”

“Yeah,” he lets out a soft, humourless laugh and runs one hand through his hair while looking aside, a shy flush creeping onto his neck and ears. “I was in love with you.”

“You were?”

“Yeah, well, no, actually, that’s a lie.” He looks at you and catches the way your face falls into a frown hearing him admitting to lying to your face like that. “I’m still so fucking in love with you that I can’t function properly knowing you hate me. I’m not asking you to come back to me; I know that won’t happen. I’m just…asking you to really think about it, about us, and me. I never lied to you, never showed you a false me. You know me better than anyone else. Do you really believe I did those things?”

“What took you so long?” Chan pouts at you when you sit down in your usual seat opposite him at your usual table in your usual café. “Angel?”

“Uh, so Kyle was at my apartment,” you inform, picking up your mug that’s been waiting for you for ten minutes already thanks to Chan always ordering for you both. Usually you arrive minutes before your food and drinks arrive, but today you’re late for the first time.

“What?” Chan’s face drops so drastically it throws you off for a second. You’ve never seen such a dark expression on him; you’ve never seen him so entirely void of any light. He doesn’t look like your best friend. “Your apartment? Did he force himself in? Did he hurt you?”

“No, no, I meant the lobby and no, he’s never hurt me. He wouldn’t do that.”

“He cheated on you, took fucking creeper shots of you in your gym and you think he’s above putting his hands on you?” He scoffs, shaking his head a little and pushes the salt across the table to you. You hadn’t asked for it, but you will before you start eating.

He’s always doing thoughtful little things like that for you, but you’ve never really noticed it until the last weeks. Silently noticing what you need and giving it to you with a smile.

But he’s not smiling now. He looks concerned now, rounded eyes locked on you and head tilted down a little as he frowns, almost looking at you through his eyelashes. “I don’t want to be mean or anything, but he fooled you before, angel, he’s clearly trying to do it again. I don’t know what he said to you, but you’ve got that lost look you get when you don’t know what to do.”

“He made good points, Channie,” you reply as you salt your fries before putting the shaker down. Chan doesn’t even look at it past a quick glance before sliding it back to its home out of the way.

“What good points could he have for cheating on you?”

“He said he didn’t do it-” Chan sighs heavily, cutting you off.

“Angel, he said that before, remember? Why do you suddenly believe that piece of shit?”

“Because…he looked honest.”

Chan stares at you for a moment before he sighs and reaches over to hold your hands. “I say this with all the love in me, but you’re not the best judge of character, angel. You’re naïve, innocent. I love that you see the good in the world and everyone, really, I fucking love it; it’s really sweet and cute. But it’s going to get you hurt all over again if you let him fool you like this.”

You look down at your hands in Chan’s, then back up at his face. His gaze is entirely open; big eyes and soft, naturally pouting lips. Your heart skips a beat.

You look away while nodding in understanding, silently telling him that you’re listening to him as you free your hands so that you can pick up your fork.

“Good, I really don’t want to see you hurt again like that. It broke my heart,” Chan says, relaxing as he picks up his own fork to stab too many fries onto the prongs, which he then points at you. “If you break my heart again like that, I’m stealing your TV.”

“My TV?” You sputter in surprise before laughing. Chan grins around the too many fries in his mouth and nods. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me though,” he sings around his mouthful while stabbing more fries.

Even with the view of his partially chewed food in his mouth, you can’t really deny it.

“No! Stop it!” You giggle while trying to block Chan from entering your kitchen behind you. “It’s not ready!”

“Just tell me what you’re doing!” He replies, laughing along with you as he tries to dart around you.

“Not yet! Just wait, you impatient shit!”

“No!” He wraps his arms around your waist to pull you away from the doorway and spin you both, so his back is to the kitchen now instead of yours. “Ha!”

“No!” You gasp and reach out, grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt and in a panic, you yank him closer harshly, unintentionally making him stumble into you.

“Shit, are you okay?” He worries once you’re both steady and he’s holding your upper arms to nudge you back just enough that he can look at your face. You’re frowning, though he can only see your furrowed eyebrows thanks to your hand being over most of the bottom half of your face to cup your nose as his shoulder had collided with it. “Oh, did I hurt you?”

“Asshole,” you murmur while nodding, even if it doesn’t hurt that much; you just honestly like being doted on by your best friend to the extent that you are willing to play up minor injuries to gain his gentle touch and attention.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he apologises, frowning at you as he carefully tugs your hand down. “Let Doctor Channie see.”

“You’d be a terrible doctor,” you reply, moving your hand down to let him cup your face so that he can tilt your head into the light coming in through the windows and see your features better.

“What? I’d be great!” He defends, pouting at you offendedly.

“You thought the uvula is what you pee from.”

“It’s not my fault!” He blushes a little at the reminder of his innocent mix up. “Nobody told me that dangly thing isn’t tonsils! And the pee pipe thingy starts with a U too!”

“Urethra.”

“Exactly, they’re so similar! They should name them differently. Anyway, that doesn’t mean anything, I’d still be a good doctor.”

“Yeah, until you try to catheter someone’s throat.” His expression turns unimpressed, and you can’t help but giggle. He rolls his eyes as his lips turn up into a smile.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he murmurs, turning his attention back to your slightly red nose.

“Mm, so what’s the verdict doc?” You tease, poking at his stomach and trying not to focus on the physical reminder that your best friend has abs under his baggy clothes.

“I think you’ll be okay with the right treatment.”

“And what treatment is that?”

“The best thing for a boo-boo,” he replies seriously, and then visibly nearly breaks into a laugh at the almost glare you land on him. “What?”

“I’m not a baby.”

“Yes you are. My baby,” he coos and taps his thumbs to your cheeks. You hope he doesn’t see or feel the way they warm at his words. “I specialise in baby angels, I know this.”

“You’re seriously ridiculous.”

“Mm, so, are you consenting to Doctor Channie’s effective boo-boo treatment?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You haven’t told me what it is yet.”

“You know what the treatment for a boo-boo is, angel,” he chuckles and tilts forward to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “Like that.”

“I didn’t consent to that treatment, I can sue you,” you mumble, trying to distract from the growing pink on your cheeks. Chan’s eyes glide over your features, lips turning up into a soft smile. “Stop smiling at me like that!” You whine, slapping his waist so gently that it can’t even be classed at a slap, more like you’re just putting your hands on his waist with a little force.

“But you’re so fucking cute,” he reasons, smiling wider. “My cute baby,” he murmurs lowly and brushes his nose against yours gently. Your breath hitches at the tender action while your fingers curl reflexively to loosely grip his t-shirt. “Do I have consent to administer treatment, angel?” He whispers, lips so close to yours that you can almost feel them moving as he talks.

“I…” Just as you start to nod, your phone starts to ring in the kitchen, making you jump in surprise and jolt away from Chan in a natural reaction to the unexpected noise. “I should get that.”

“Right,” Chan mutters, dropping his arms to his side with a disappointed frown as he watches you scoot around him to enter the kitchen.

When you pick up your phone from the counter, you’re more than just a little surprised to see your ex’s mother calling you.

You haven’t heard from her since the breakup when she messaged you to say that she doesn’t know what happened, but she hopes that you and her can still be friends as she values you so highly. You hadn’t responded then; you hadn’t wanted to interact with anyone who you knew through him, even if you had regret ghosting her afterwards because she genuinely is such a lovely woman who always treated you lovingly.

Still, even with the period of no contact between you, you pick your phone up to answer the call. “Hello?”

“O-oh thank goodness,” the still familiar voice sobs in relief.

“Auntie? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Kyle, there-there’s been an accident.”

Just over an hour after receiving the call, you’re tucked up in between Kyle’s parents on the couch of the private room with their arms around you, both of them crying for their son as you do your best to comfort them while feeling numb yourself. You’re too in shock at the sight of the heavily injured man laid unconscious on the bed to process it.

When you had arrived with Chan right behind you, the pair had just about managed to tell you through their tears that Kyle had been driving to work that morning when another vehicle had violently run him off of the road.

It had been on such a quiet road so early that nobody else was around; no witnesses to give details of the other car, nor to run to his aide or call for help. By the time someone found the wreck in the ditch, it had been long enough that too much damage had been done.

And now, even after hours of surgery, there’s no knowing if Kyle will make it through the night, let alone wake up again. There’s only waiting.

So, you wait.

“They’ll call if there’s any sign,” Chan reminds as he helps you out of your jacket. “You spent two days by his side, angel, there’s nothing more you can do for him. He’s not your responsibility or person to care for anymore. His parents and sister are there, and they promised to call you.”

“I know,” you reply, moving woodenly as Chan leads you through your apartment to the kitchen with his hand in yours to keep you moving.

He flicks on the light and falls still at the sight of the mess you left on the counter from leaving so quickly three evenings ago to get to the hospital. He never learned what you had been refusing to let him see until now. “Cake,” he murmurs, noticing the half decorated cake on the counter, surrounded by all the items you had been using to decorate it.

“For your new job,” you reply with a shrug. “It’s no good now. Sorry, I’ll buy you a replacement tomorrow.”

“No, no, you don’t have to. Just knowing is enough for me,” Chan assures, turning to bring you in to hold against his chest where you melt against him with an exhale. “I appreciate the thought and effort you went to, angel; that means more than a store bought cake ever could.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t finish it.”

“It’s not your fault. Let’s order something for dinner and while it’s on its way, I’ll clean this up while you go shower.”

“Do I smell?” You mumble against his shoulder.

“Like sadness,” he retorts with a joking edge to his sombre tone that makes you jab your fingers into his waist in scold. He yelps and contorts away from your fingers without releasing his arms from around you. “And meanness.”

“Meanness,” you repeat, scoffing a short laugh and leaning back from his shoulder to look at him.

“Yes. It’s mean to take advantage of my weak spots.”

“You do it to me all the time.”

“Yes, but you’re the nice one, my angel,” he coos, pinching your cheek before he lets you go to nudge you out of the kitchen while you try to recall just when it got so normal for Chan to call you his.

Since becoming best friends with Chan, it’s not unusual at all to return home and find him in your apartment as if he owns the place. Honestly, you genuinely think he spends more time in your apartment than his own, especially the past couple months. The couch is practically his bed at this point.

What is very unusual however, is to arrive home to find the door slightly open and hear another voice talking with Chan from inside your apartment.

“Chan?” You call in a cautious, soft voice as you nudge the door open and peer around it.

“Hi, angel, welcome home,” Chan greets, smiling at you and motioning you to join him opposite the two uniformed police officers standing and talking to him in the entrance hall.

“What’s going on, Channie?” You ask as you stand at his side and cling to his hand while remaining just a little behind him and away from the officers. They’re both taller than you and Chan, with one of them being thick with muscle and rather intimidating. Though when he smiles at you in polite greeting, most of the fear melts away.

“This is Officer Choi Seungcheol and Officer Chwe Hansol, they’re here to talk to you about Kyle,” Chan explains, motioning to each man in turn.

“Is there news on who ran him off the road?” You ask, looking at the two men with hope in your eyes and chest. It’s been over a week since the incident and there hasn’t been any more information about who put Kyle into such a devastating condition.

The last you heard, they had managed to get sight of a damaged SUV in the general vicinity from CCTV a handful of roads away, but the plates turned out to be stolen from another car across the country over a year ago and the windows were blacked out so there’s no way to tell who was driving the car. Whoever it was clearly knows the streets well enough that they escaped the CCTV quickly and the vehicle hasn’t shown up since. Nor has one matching the description been scrapped or sent to be fixed.

“That’s not our department,” the intimidating officer, Seungcheol, replies while giving you another gentle little smile. “I’m afraid we’re from the sexual crimes division, ma’am.”

“Sexual crimes?” You whisper in shock. “Wh-what?”

“We’ve received reports that Kyle has sexually harassed and stalked multiple women over the past year.”

“No, he-he wouldn’t-” you argue, shaking your head as your hands start to tremble ever so slightly, so you hold onto Chan’s hand tighter with both of yours to try and cease the shuddering movements. “You’re wrong.”

“I understand that it’s hard to hear these things about someone you thought you knew, but we have to follow up every lead we have to get all the information we need to press charges.”

“He’s in a hospital bed!” You baulk and let out an incredulous laugh. “You want to charge a man who might not even wake up? What kind of a person are you?!”

“It’s not our choice, ma’am. We’re just doing our jobs and trying to get justice for the victims.”

“I’m not having any part in this. I have nothing to say to you. He never did a thing wrong to me. Get out,” you insist, pointing to the door. “I’m not going to let you bring these accusations into my home without proof.”

“We have proof,” the other officer speaks up, earning a slightly disapproving look from his partner, but he isn’t stopped. “We saw proof ourselves; photos of women taken from outside of windows and other positions that clearly show a lack of consent. And a hidden, digital diary alluding to the acts that match up with statements we received from victims.”

“Photos?” You repeat disbelievingly.

“Yes ma’am, and I’m afraid you were in some. Based on the angle and quality, we believe the photos were taken from a roof into what we can only assume is your own bedroom.”

“My bedroom?”

“Yes ma’am. May we see your room and take photos for comparative purposes?”

“My bedroom…” You can only repeat, too in shock to do anything else as you stare dumbly at the two uniformed men in front of you.

“I think she needs a moment,” Chan says while putting his arm around you to support your gradually weakening body.

“Of course, we’ll wait right here,” Seungcheol agrees in a gentle tone and nods understandingly.

Chan carefully takes you to the living room to sit you on the couch and kneels in front of you. “Baby, breathe, come on,” he encourages softly as he holds your face. “You’re going to have a panic attack if you don’t copy me, come on.” He starts to take exaggerated breaths; big inhale, hold, slow exhale.

You blink at him unseeingly for a few of his breaths before your eyes drop to his mouth and you naturally copy the man who has helped you level your breathing more times than you can count the past year.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praises. “A few more for me, you can do a few more for your Channie, right?” You nod so he smiles and takes a handful more deep, steadying breaths, each of which you obediently copy. “Good, well done.” He leans forward and kisses your head. “I’ll deal with the cops, okay? You just sit here and let your Channie handle it all. You just relax, angel.”

There isn’t a single part of you that wants to face the officers and their accusations again, so you simply nod and let Chan tuck a blanket around you as you curl up against the back of the sofa, before he turns on the TV just loud enough that when he goes back into the hall to talk to the two men, you can’t make out their low murmuring voices.

Throughout the remainder of the visit from the two officers, you don’t move, just sit staring blankly at the cushions in front of you as your mind whirls.

You don’t know what to believe. When Kyle had visited you that day, you really did believe him. Even now, there’s a part of you that struggles to believe the sincerity in his eyes and voice to be nothing more than a clever act to fool you. He has never laid a hand on you, never forced you to do anything or kicked up a fuss if you rejected his advances. Kyle was good.

Or maybe not.

If the police aren’t lying to you, then they have proof; more photos, even though you took the ones you found that time and burned them all, and witness accounts, or well, victim’s statements would be the correct term.

You know it’s possible to spend your entire life with a person and never truly know them, but you truly had thought that you knew Kyle. You had been so close to falling in love with him; that’s why it had hurt so much. You truly had believed that one day, you’d fall mutually in love with him, with a good man, and have a happy life together.

But all this; the accusations, the proof you had found yourself even if you still struggle to accept it at face value, it just goes to show that you never really know a person.

“They’re gone,” Chan’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. You turn your head to watch him cross the living room to sit at your side and invite himself under the blanket. He puts his left arm on the back of the couch in a silent offer that you readily accept, shuffling closer to tuck up under his arm and settle when it’s around you securely.

“Was it my room?” You ask, not really sure if you want to know the answer. But you need to.

Chan lets out a breath that sounds like a reluctant sigh. It’s almost answer enough, yet you need to hear it. “Yeah, angel, it looks like it was your room. They took photos and are going to go to the roof of the motel opposite to take a photo from there to see if it matches. I’ve given them my number to keep me updated and so they contact me if they need to, not you. I told them about the photos you found too and that you burned them so no-one else can have them.”

“Should-should I have reported him then?” You wonder, suddenly worried that you had potentially endangered women by not stepping up.

“Maybe,” he replies in a way that you just know means he thinks you should’ve, but he doesn’t want to upset you.

You curl up smaller and turn your face into his shoulder to let the familiar, soothing scent of his cologne and laundry detergent ease you.

Chan tilts his head on top of yours and holds you that bit tighter. “At least he can’t hurt anyone else anymore.”

The words are supposed to be comforting, but they don’t comfort you at all.

The news comes only a few days later.

It didn’t take long to gather evidence to support the accusations against Kyle. The warrant for his home turned up the photos and a hidden memory stick containing a written diary with documents matching dates of some of the statements, though many more entries without a woman to match to the words. The police just had to confirm the evidence and talk to some people before moving forward with it, like they did with you and Chan.

If it wasn’t for Kyle’s condition, the case would’ve been closed only two days after the police visited you, and he would’ve been sent off to prison. As it is, the man still hasn’t woken and the doctors aren’t confident that he ever will, so he can’t really be held accountable for his actions.

When Chan tells you the news, you feel bad that for the first time, you’re glad that Kyle is unconscious and likely to never wake up; at least this way, he won’t have to face the accusations which a part of you still can’t believe are true.

What you are finally letting yourself believe though, are all the times Chan called you naïve.

“Delivery for the cutest baby angel to have ever existed,” comes the greeting from behind the massive bouquet of flowers almost shoved in your face the very moment you open the front door of your apartment to see who has been insistently ringing the bell.

“That is an obscene amount of flowers,” you murmur while eyeing the bouquet.

It lowers and your best friend’s head appears as he pouts at you cutely. “Don’t you want it?”

“Gimmie,” you encourage, making grabby hands. Chan grins and hands you the bouquet, which is literally three times bigger than your head, before stepping into the apartment while you wander off, happily admiring and sniffing the multitude of flowers.

It’s not unusual for Chan to bring you flowers at all; rather, it’s unusual for your home to not have flowers gifted to you from your best friend. Even if he can’t visit you he sends you flowers at least weekly, and the ones he sends tend to always be more extravagant as if he’s making up for not giving them to you in person.

Every single bouquet is always handpicked by Chan; he always chooses which flowers to give you, not based on their colour or scent but for the meaning.

One of the things that helped you and Chan bond when you first met was your shared love of flowers and their meanings. You both know the meanings of a vast array of flowers, and he always includes yellow roses in his bouquet to symbolise your friendship.

Today is no different; there is an abundance of yellow roses in the bouquet, but there are a mixture of other flowers often in yellow themes, as it seems rather common for yellow flowers to symbolise friendship and happiness.

But sometimes there’s other colours; a little pop of pink tulips to show he cares, white carnations with a cheeky wink as he calls you baby angel, fragrant lavender to remind you of his loyalty to your friendship. Every bouquet is carefully crafted as a message; to tell you that Chan is your best friend and will always be there to love and support you.

And today, right there amongst the usual flowers, a handful of light pink roses.

You run through your mental list of flower meanings. Pink roses tend to mean grace, dark pink for gratitude and light pink has a few meanings just like many flowers. Many of the flowers Chan gives you have multiple meanings, but when put together the bouquets he gives you all mean the same thing. However, light pink roses aren’t used to symbolise friendship, innocence, or care. They mean youth, energy, passion, desire. None of those really blend with the rest of the bouquet’s meaning and it throws you for a loop.

“Did they put in the wrong flower?” You ask, pointing to the light pink roses as you look over at Chan puzzled. He walks over to peer at the bouquet and where you’re motioning, before shaking his head. “But they don’t mean friendship,” you mumble confusedly and look at the flowers again as you try to decipher their reasoning.

Chan doesn’t say a word, just leans his left hip against the counter, left palm on the surface and right hand fiddling with the unused belt loop on your jeans as he waits.

“Wait!” You turn to face him while pointing an accusing finger at him. “Is this you calling me a baby again? Light pink roses for youth?”

Chan chuckles and shakes his head, sliding two of his fingers into the loop now you’re facing one another and letting his palm settle against your hip. “No, it’s not that, though that’s a good one, I should’ve thought of that.”

“Then what?” You tilt your head a little, pouting naturally with your innocent confusion.

“You know. I know you know this one, angel,” he encourages and tugs you closer.

“Joy of life?” You offer, too used to him leading you around and being physically affectionate to really register how close he has you, or how his thumb is gradually tugging at your t-shirt where it’s tucked into your jeans.

“No.”

“Well it’s certainly not energy, you always say I lack energy. Or are you trying to like, manifest energy for me?”

“No, but once again, that’s good, I’ll make you a manifestation bouquet one day soon.”

“Then what? I’m confused, Chan.”

“Want me to tell you?” You nod in confirmation. “What if I show you?”

“What?”

He smirks a little, then pushes off of the counter and cups your jaw with his left hand. “Should I tell you, or show you, baby?” He murmurs, voice pitching low in a way that sends shivers up and down your spine. He leans in closer, brushing his nose against your cheek and nose in a teasing manner, but he doesn’t do anything more. “Well?”

It takes a few seconds for you to react; your heart is racing with anticipation, and you need to swallow a few times. He pulls back and notices your gaze slide down to his lips. “Show me,” you say in a voice so soft and shy it’s practically a whisper.

Chan doesn’t need to be told twice; he darts forward to slot his lips against yours for the first time. There’s no hesitance in his movements, no gentle teasing and dancing as he eases you into it; he kisses you passionately from the first moment, guiding your head to tilt in the perfect angle to deepen the kiss to a filthy degree when he coaxes your mouth open only seconds after his lips touch yours.

You never expected this from Chan; never imagined he’d kiss in such a manner that you feel like he’s consuming your heart and soul in the best of ways. He’s only been kissing you for a few seconds, yet your knees are weak, and you have to cling to him to keep yourself upright.

The moment your hand grips the back of his neck, Chan groans in pleased approval against your mouth and pins you roughly against the counter; his hips pressed against yours and his right hand giving up being subtle about his wants as he yanks your t-shirt out of the waistband of your jeans so that he can slide his hand underneath and run his palm against your bare skin.

Of course, a kiss that passionate can’t go on for too long, you especially need to catch your breath as you hadn’t been prepared at all for the intensity and keep forgetting to breathe as your lips and tongue move with his.

Though when you press against his chest and turn your head aside slightly to try and catch your breath, Chan doesn’t stop kissing you, he just relocates his focus, leaving a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses over your jaw and down your neck.

“Wanted you for so fucking long, angel,” he admits, voice thick with arousal and sounding unfairly in breath even if his chest is heaving too. He drags his teeth over the crook of your neck making you gasp and grip him tighter. “Driving me crazy, ‘m so hard. Can I have you? Can I take you to bed and drown in your pussy? Fuck you so hard I owe you a new bed?”

“Fuck,” you breathe out and grab a handful of his hair to drag him back up. His eyes are so hooded that you’re not certain he’s even looking at you. He looks so far gone and it does dangerous things to you. “Y-you do so much for me, Chan.”

“What?” He blinks away some of the lust dazing him to peer at you confusedly, and a little offended and the out of place comment. “What are you talking about all of a sudden? I’m trying to take you to bed, and you say that? You can just say no, not do some weird speech.”

“I’m not doing that,” you assure and move your left hand off of his shoulder, down his torso and under his oversized t-shirt to find the button of his jeans. He looks down in surprise, then back up at you with desire flooding back into his expression and eyes as you skilfully get his jeans open. Neither of you care that they immediately drop to the floor around his ankles with the jangle of his keys in his pocket, as you get your hand in his boxers. “Let me do this for you.”

“Fuck, yeah, yeah, whatever you want angel,” he approves before leaning in to seal your lips back together.

After your tryst in the kitchen, which lead to half of the bouquet getting destroyed when Chan bent you over the counter chest first into the flowers, sex is suddenly on the table for the two of you. Often literally. It seems as if that encounter opened the floodgates of a year of repressed desire from Chan and alerted you to the fact that his passion is more than just a little reciprocated.

Of course, you’ve known for a while now that you’re attracted to Chan; ever since the realisation that day in the store thanks to the leather jacket, which he is often prancing around in, especially since he’s realised how much you like him in it. Sometimes he’ll even turn up at your apartment, open the zip of his jacket and reveal that he’s wearing nothing but your marks underneath, leading to you pinning him to the closest surface to expand on the collection.

What you hadn’t known is just how deep your attraction runs. That at some point within you, the lust starts to morph and before it reaches your chest, it turns to a love which squeezes your heart a little every time he slows down to press a soft kiss to your lips, or you find him looking at you with eyes sparkling with adoration.  

You never imagined that you would fall for your best friend, yet here you are, weeks into your relationship turning sexual, and falling asleep naked in his arms more often than not while not wanting the morning to come because you know he’ll leave before you’re awake so that he can go home and get ready for work.

There’s a part of you that has, on more than one occasion, almost blurted out that he should just bring his work clothes over; you’ve already made space in the wardrobe to hang his shirts and space in the drawer for his trousers. But you don’t.

As much as you’ve come to understand and accept that the love you feel for Chan is no longer purely platonic, you aren’t ready to move on from your ex. There’s still a piece of your heart in Kyle’s hands, even if they are limp in his hospital bed and your heart should’ve been released back to you months ago.

You’ve tried to move on; you thought it would’ve happened naturally thanks to your recently developed feelings for your best friend and the regular sessions of getting fucked dumb into various surfaces by the man.

Still, Kyle remains, and you don’t understand why your heart won’t let you love Chan entirely.

You hope that Chan is happy with this; that he’s content to spend spare moments between your usual hangouts and your thighs. You don’t want to have to tell him that you’re not over Kyle; you know that Chan doesn’t like the man. Although he never voices his displeasure in you still visiting the Kyle in the hospital, you can always see it in his eyes when you leave and how he fucks you that bit harder when you return.

Hope, it seems, is still stubbornly stuck in the bottom of the box, and has no place in the real world, especially not yours.

“You have a key,” you point out flatly when you open the door having expected the takeout you’ve ordered for dinner for yourself and Chan, yet find the man himself on the other side of the door with his hands behind his back and still wearing his work clothes. “What’re you hiding? Please tell me it’s dinner; I thought you’re the delivery man you know?”

“It’s not dinner,” he chuckles, then brings his hands around to reveal this week’s bouquet. Tulips; red, yellow, and orange. Love.

“Chan…” you trail off, not sure what to say and expression downturned when you look up at him. You can practically see the moment you break his heart.

“Oh, I guess I misread this,” he smiles embarrassed and awkward, even with the pain evident in his eyes. “I thought that you might return my feelings finally, but I guess not.”

“You’re not wrong,” you confess softly. “I just…I’m not over Kyle.”

“What?” His features scrunch in bewilderment. “You’re not over the man who would be arrested for sexual harassment and stalking right now if not in a coma? Am I hearing that right?”

“I still can’t connect that to the man I knew.”

“He really fucked with your head, didn’t he?” His arms lower defeatedly.

“No, he didn’t. He was just…good to me.”

“He cheated on you, angel, he wrote about it in his diary and other women have said as much too. What’s it going to take for you to accept that and move on?”

“I-I don’t know, Chan. I’m sorry but I just can’t do that. I’ve tried to get over him, but it hasn’t happened.”

“Well…I’m not going anywhere,” he declares and steps forward to offer the bouquet. “You may not be able to love me and be with me the way I want, but I still love you, with everything in me and I’ll be here for you all the same.”

“Won’t that hurt you?”

“Baby,” he chuckles and tenderly cups your cheek in one hand, the other still holding the tulips you’ve yet to accept. “I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid my eyes on you; I’ve been by your side through all of the assholes you gave your time to, even if they didn’t deserve it. This one will pass too.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“It will,” a flash of determination appears in his eyes as he smiles at you. “You’ll be mine soon enough, I promise you that, angel.”

At first, you had been cautious with Chan after his confession. You don’t want to hurt him and make him suffer at your side, so you pulled back on the affection and stopped the sexual aspect of your relationship entirely. Chan hadn’t been very happy and pouted at you when you turned him down the first time, but he didn’t push it and accepted it. Though he still reaches out to pull you close to hold and well, you don’t really want to quit him truthfully, so you let that happen.

After a few weeks, it’s as if the month of mind-blowing sex never happened and you and Chan are back to being nothing more than best friends. He keeps to his word and remains by your side as he always has, with no pushing or attempts to get you to reconsider and accept his love wholeheartedly.

Maybe that’s why one day when you’re laid side by side on a picnic blanket looking up at the stars with the snacks and drinks, which Chan supplied for the stargazing session, contently settling in your belly, you look at him and for the first time, you don’t feel as if your heart is missing a single piece.

“What?” Chan asks, side eyeing you amusedly when you’ve been staring at him instead of the sky for a few seconds too long. “Are you about to tell me that the stars in the sky don’t sparkle as bright as the stars in my eyes?”

“Where do you even come up with this stuff?” You laugh and nudge him playfully before sitting up. “Whoa,” you murmur when your head spins, eyes slamming closed and hands flying out to try and balance yourself.

“Angel, what’s wrong?” Chan’s hands are on you in seconds as he sits up to support you.

“M wobbly,” you slur, trying to look at him as your hands grip him tight. “Channie,” you start to panic as the dizziness doesn’t subside at all, if anything it feels like it’s getting worse as he starts to multiply before your eyes. “S-something’s wrong.”

“Shh, it’s okay, Channie’s got you, lay down angel, Channie’s got you,” he soothes, gently laying you back down on the blanket and propping himself up on his right elbow as his left hand cups your cheek. “You’ll feel better soon; just close your eyes and let your Channie look after you.”

“Chan…” You’re finding it harder and harder to move your body with every second. It feels as if your muscles are turning to sludge and bones rubber. You try to lift your arm from where it flopped to your stomach when he laid you down, yet you can’t lift it.

Chan watches the panic fill your eyes and strokes his hand over your head, then back to your cheek again. “You’re okay, my love, I’ll never let anything happen to you. Your Channie will always look after you.”

You can’t even open your mouth to respond. A choked sound leaves your parted lips as your vision starts blurring darkly around the edges.

“I will do whatever I need to, to make sure that nobody can ever hurt you again, my angel,” his voice is taking on a strange otherworldly quality, fading in and out every other syllable.

It feels as if you’re becoming one with the ground under you. It’s still hard against your back, yet it feels as if you’re melting into it, like every point of contact is rapidly ceasing to exist as you fight to keep your eyes open.

“Close your eyes, baby,” Chan’s warped voice meets you. He says something else, but a buzzing appears, overlapping his muffled words until the high pitched sound is all you can hear.

You feel something touch your forehead and brush down gently, forcing your eyes closed. You don’t have the strength to open them again.

It’s pitch black, only the ringing for company until suddenly, it leaves.

There’s barely time to register the pure silence before your consciousness melts into the ground to join the rest of you.

Everything comes back to you all at once.

Your body jerks awake as your eyes fly open. The soft, natural light around you is too bright on your sore eyes and the gentle sound of the birds outside singing their morning song pierces your sensitive ears. Instinctively, you close your eyes and lift your hands with the intention of pressing your palms to your ears to block out the noise, but something stops you from raising your hands more than a few inches.

Panicked, your eyes open and look down to find thick, padded straps around your wrists and buckled in place with a chain connecting each to the wooden frame of the bed under you. You tug, but they don’t give. You try to move your legs, but your ankles are bound in the same way; even if you don’t look at them to check, you just know you’d see the same binds there.

“Breathe,” the voice is familiar, is the one that you’re so used to listening to that you find yourself listening and taking some deep, stabilising breaths without even thinking about it. “Good girl.”

After a few seconds, you realise that Chan is in the room; the strange room where you’re cuffed to a strange bed. You have no idea where you are; the walls look wooden and it smells kind of musty, like it hasn’t been used in a while, but the familiar scent of Chan’s laundry detergent meets your nose from the soft, clean pillow under your head when you turn your head to try and find the man.

He’s sitting in a rickety old rocking chair near the closed door of the small room.

There’s nothing else in the room; no curtains on the window on the wall, which the right side of the bed is pushed against; the window is cracked open, letting in fresh air but even from where you’re laid, you can see bars on the outside. There’s a bulb hanging from the centre of the ceiling emitting a redundant, soft orange glow. And nothing else.

Just you, the bed, the chair, and the man you thought was your best friend looking at you as he gently rocks back and forth, back and forth, the chair creaking with every movement.

For tense moments, minutes maybe, you just stare at Chan in horror. This is not the man you’ve spent the past almost two years side by side with. This is not the man you had been seconds away from telling that you finally loved him with everything in you.

Your Chan is beautiful inside and out; with bright eyes always shining with mirth and adoration when they find you, and a smile that could weaken the toughest of hearts. He was love and happiness. Your love. Your happiness. You don’t know where that’s gone.

This Chan terrifies you. His face is flat, no smile, no sparkle in his eyes. He’s looking at you with an expression so dark and haunting; something similar to the way he looked when you told him that Kyle turned up at your apartment building all those months ago in the café, yet somehow so much worse.

For the first time since meeting Lee Chan, you look at him and you want to be as far away as possible, and then further. This isn’t a man you want to be near. Yet, you’re left without a choice.

“Wha-what’s going on, Chan?” You stammer.

“This is your fault, you know,” he informs matter-of-factly. “If you had just said yes to me that day, if you hadn’t held onto that fucking asshole, then this would’ve never happened. We could be at home, in bed; I could be buried deep in your pussy and filling you with cum again and again until you’re round with my baby. We could’ve been happy; had our family, gotten married,” he huffs a dry laugh and abruptly stops rocking. “We could’ve had the perfect fucking family, baby! We could’ve been perfect. But no! You had to cling to that asshole!” He gets to his feet, flinging his arms up in the air as his lips start to split into a disbelieving smile.

He doesn’t even seem to notice that you flinch and try to move further away from him as he steps closer. He seems entirely caught up in his own monologue as he starts to pace the short length of the room to your left.

“I’ve done everything I can to win you over! I studied you for fucking months before showing myself to you. Changed my hair, changed my style, even changed my fucking interests to suit your tastes!” He wheels around and stalks closer to put his right hand on the headboard above you while he stares down at you with eyes wide. “I fucking hate flowers, you know? Hate those stupid fucking things, yet I read every fucking book I could find to learn about them. Learned how to grow them from tiny little seeds all for you,” he points at you. “And what thanks do I get?” He laughs and pushes away from the bed to turn and take a few steps away. “Nothing! Okay, no, no, that’s not fair to you,” he concedes.

Chan turns to face you with his hands and features settled so suddenly into something so placating that you wonder if you had imagined the unhinged mess he was seconds ago.

“I got to taste that pretty little pussy and feel it around my cock, your mouth too. Fuck, baby, I could’ve held out longer if you hadn’t ended that but you, you little cock tease, had to give me a taste of heaven and rip it away from me.” He tuts disapprovingly and gives you an exaggerated pout. “You’ve really broken my heart, you know?”

“Th-then let me go and you never ha-have to see me again,” you try to reason, but he laughs; a full, loud, rolling laugh while leaning over with his hands on his knees as if you’ve told the best joke he’s ever heard.

“Oh, angel!” He exclaims as he straightens up, clapping his hands amusedly. “That’s good, really good. You’re so funny, baby, it’s one of the things I love most about you. You’ve always made me laugh.”

For a few seconds, he looks at you so tenderly that he looks like your Chan again; the Chan you fell in love with, the Chan you wish you had realised was a trick from the start. It makes sense that he always called you naïve when he knows from experience how easy it is to fool you.

“You’re mine now, ‘till death do us part and all that. Sorry I don’t have a ring for you, I’ve never been one for accessories.” He lifts his bare hands to wiggle them at you.

It’s only now that you realise he isn’t wearing a single piece of jewellery, something you thought wasn’t possible for your Chan. His clothes aren’t baggy and hiding his form, and hair no longer shaggy and in his eyes. He’s wearing blue jeans like usual, but these ones are straight legged and show off his thick thighs and ass; his plain white fitted t-shirt is tucked into his jeans neatly, showcasing his slim waist and strong upper body; with his hair neatly styled back in a casual, yet neat, manner. You’ve never seen him like this; he looks older this way, less playful.

It's another reminder that he’s not your Chan. He never truly was.

“I wish it didn’t come to this; you know?” He comments while walking over to sit on the edge of the bed by your waist and brush the back of his fingers over your cheek, entirely ignoring the way you flinch away from this touch, even if it is painfully tender. “You’re so beautiful; I’ve wanted you from the moment I first laid eyes on you, even if you never saw me.” He sighs dramatically and gets up to stand beside the bed. “Even back then you looked anywhere but me. It’s funny though,” he muses, pacing a little as his lips start to lift and bring back that manic smile he earlier wore.

It scares the shit out of you.

“You never once questioned your bad luck,” he quotes your own words with a mocking tone, trying not to laugh as he does so. “Or how it only appeared once I came into your life. You really are fucking naïve, baby.”

“What did you do?” You whisper, horrified at the realisation that Chan had been the reason that all of your relationships have failed.

Now that you think about it, he had always warned you away from them all for some reason; some kind of claim of a bad feeling, a rumour, seeing them kissing another woman. You never questioned how he always had something to say about every single man you showed interest in, or seemed to know things he shouldn’t really know. You put too much trust in the man from day one and now it’s come back to bite you in the ass.

“Whatever I needed to. It was all so easy too, like you wanted a reason to leave them all. I really thought it was because you wanted me,” he laughs darkly and pins an equally as dark look on you as his smile drops. “And then Kyle came along. Fucking Kyle. Perfect Kyle with his clean record and respect and giant, squishy heart. Well, it’s extra squishy now I pushed him off the road,” he laughs, eyes lighting with twisted delight.

“No,” you choke out. “You- no- you didn’t- tell me you didn’t do that to him, Chan,” you plead desperately.

Chan laughs and walks over to lean over you again, his left hand braced against the headboard and the other playing with the strands of your hair on the pillow beside your head. “If only you had believed me. If you hadn’t let him talk to you that day; if you had just kicked him out and come right to me like you were supposed to, it would’ve never happened, angel. You had me right there waiting for you and you picked that asshole and now guess what?” He looks at you with a bright, manic smile, eyes wide and shining with mirth you wish doesn’t exist. “He’s never fucking waking up, baby!” He beams, looking so proud of himself. “I made sure of that!”

You feel sick to your stomach.

It must show on your face because Chan’s own falls and he frowns at you. “Don’t look at me like that. This isn’t my fault.” He scoffs and backs up from the bed as that terrifyingly haunting look returns to his features. “I didn’t think I’d have to go this far; I thought you’d accept all those rumours and evidence I spent so much time, money, and effort planting. I bribed and blackmailed so many people the past months. Got the asshole fucking convicted and you still refuse to pick me.”

Chan sighs heavily, as if it really does pain him, before he pivots and walks to the door to open it, though he turns just enough to look back at you.

“I can’t tell if you’re too smart to believe all that or fucking stupid to still want to be by his side after all the accusations. Maybe he did brainwash your naïve little self.”

He stares at you for an unnervingly long moment as if he’s trying to figure you out and wondering what exactly Kyle did to earn your loyalty, and how exactly he can mimic it to make you his.

“Oh well,” he decides with a shrug, making you jolt at his sudden voice. “Not that it matters anymore because I’m not letting you leave here. If you’re not going to be mine on your own terms, we’re doing it my way.”

He closes the door after him, and you break with the sound of the lock clicking into place.

Tears roll down your cheeks and temples, soaking the soft pillow under your head as sobs tear from your chest. You keep tugging at the binds holding you down, yet they don’t budge.

You’re stuck here.

Even if you somehow escape your binds, there are bars on the window and a lock securing the thick wooden door.

You’re stuck here. For good.

Forever.

Stuck with the man you had trusted to look after you, to be by your side for a long time. You just never expected it to be like this. You as his prisoner; his little plaything to do with as he pleases until he gets bored of you and then… you don’t even want to think about it.

The sun slowly rises higher and higher into the sky and finally, you stop pulling at your binds, stop crying; out of energy and tears with your whole body hurting, yet nothing in comparison to the pain in your heart where it’s stomped into the wooden floorboards and covered in Chan’s footprints.

You dread the moment he returns. Dread having to live your life like this.

But you know you don’t have a choice. You’re his now, to do with as he pleases. You no longer have a choice in how your life goes.

The click of the lock disengaging sends fear racing through your tired body, adrenaline pumping, yet there’s still nothing you can do as Chan steps into the room with a tray in his hands and a smile on his face.

“Hi baby, it’s time for food! I made your favourite.”

As you watch him approach wearing that same cute smile that first drew you to him, all you can do is curse yourself for being so fucking naïve.

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[formylovetodaryldixon]

“Russian roulette.” Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif)

The game of killing or dying was too much for you after Richard was about to use you as bait, so you left to not be part of that life. However, it happens that you have a husband who is an excellent hunter, and who swears to you that he would burn everything in his path until he finds you.

A/N: This is an imagine I wrote a long time ago, but that was the first time I wrote smut (I suck at it, really) that's why I never did it, but I tried my best hehe. I realized that I love, LOVE writing Daryl as a husband, is kind of hot♥ (Sorry if there are any grammatical errors)

From afar, Daryl sees you teaching the children of the kingdom how to use the bow in the archery area. Some little ones had good bases to become great archers, to protect themselves and others from the dead, but he sees too how they insist that you show them again how it was done. So you search inside the quiver that hangs against your back, taking an arrow with a red feather in it that shines in the morning sun when you connect it with the bow. With a fluid movement, you raise the bow to the height of your face, pointing towards the target in front but far from you, and your arrow pierces right in the middle of the yellow point of the objective.

Daryl smiles proudly, but decides not to get close when King Ezekiel approaches you. Instead, Daryl walks away from there and crosses the garden and some houses, while, near him, Richard keeps practicing in his own archery area, and watches Daryl as he approaches.

“I’m practicing. I have to start using these more.” He raises the bow close to his face, aiming towards the target, but the arrow hit the black point far from the center. “I know your wife can do much better.”

“She can.” Daryl says, and Richard turns to him.

“Morgan said you’re a bowman.” Richard takes the crossbow from the big box between them, holding a calm expression that Daryl doesn’t trust in, but he takes it, glancing at Richard with suspicion.

“Why?”

“Because we want the same things. And I need your help.”

He is talking about the saviors, Daryl knows it well, so he checks the weight of the crossbow in his hands before he lifts it close to his face, ready to shoot.

Daryl and Richard walk down the empty highway with green trees at the sides and a desolate view. The plan is to attack first, a surprise ambush that would cause a war between the Kingdom and the saviors, to then finally kill them to live safe. So they hide behind a big cargo truck by the side of the road, putting down their weapons and backpacks.

“They ride this road. If we see cars: it’s the saviors. They are coming in bands of 2 or 3. That’s why I need you. I can’t take them down alone.” Richard says. He kneels in front of his backpack, pulling the liquor bottles out of it. “We hit them with the guns first, then with the molotovs, and back to the guns until they are dead.”

“Why the fire?”

“It needs to look bad.” But Daryl doesn’t seem convinced, and walks around Richard with his crossbow in hand, forcing him with just a look to continue explaining himself. “The saviors who discovers what’s left…” Richard gets up and turns around to look at Daryl. “We want them to be angry. I left a trail from here to the weapons cache near to an open field that will take them… to a person who practices near here and that Ezekiel cares about.”

Daryl narrows his eyes, because he was too protective to let a person be exposed like that.

“Who’s that?”

“Just a person that will help.”

“Lives in the kingdom?”

“She practices out of there.”

Daryl stops himself.

“It’s a woman?”

Richard frowns, suddenly becoming impatient.

“What’s that matter? She got more balls than you and me together. She’s not gonna die, but when the saviors come and find their friends dead, they will follow the trail and go to the gun’s cache, then to the open field and they’ll try to attack this woman…”

Daryl frowns, growing impatient as well.

“What’s 'er name?”

“They won’t kill her, but that’s gonna show Ezekiel what he needs to do. He will see she was about to get hurt because of the saviors and just then he will fight.”

Richard’s betrayal begins to unfold in front of Daryl’s eyes, but he doesn’t like what he hears, and as a reflection, his hand tightens on the crossbow.

“'er name. What is it?”

“She is tough. She will live.”

The pieces of the puzzle begin to fit in and Daryl starts to have a complete view of Richard’s plan, but he doesn't want to act recklessly until he hears it with his own ears.

“Say 'er damn name!”

He needs to hear it to be sure. However, although his threatening look makes Richard almost surrender, he shows no fear, showing all his disinterest towards your life.

“(Y/N)”

Containing himself so as not to kill Richard at that very moment with a single arrow in his skull is the hardest thing Daryl ever did. But his body is shaking with anger; the blood on his veins freezes as he listens to that man and how he put his wife’s life in danger without remorse. As if your life is worth nothing, as if you didn’t have someone to defend you.

“Are ya fuckin’ crazy?” Daryl talks with a low, yet angry voice. “Ya jus’ dared to put in risk ma wife’s life jus’ ‘cause ya think she can handle a group of saviors?”

“You two told Ezekiel that anything had to be done to stop the saviors.”

Again, even when he has the chance, Daryl uses all his strength to not shoot an arrow in Richard’s face, and he walks around Richard to take his things before leaving that place.

“No.”

“She’ll live. Listen… this is how this has to happen. This is how we will get rid of the saviors. You two stayed in the kingdom for a reason: to prove to Ezekiel we can kill the savior. Together. So we can all have a future.”

“No!” Daryl passes him by, walking away from him.

“If we don’t do something people are gonna die!” Richard walks towards him and Daryl faces him. “People who wants to live!”

“Get the hell away from ma wife, ya hear me?”

Daryl gets close to him, looking straight into his eyes. Richard backs away, but hearing the roar of the cars that approaches in the distance attracts his attention. Daryl drops his backpack off his shoulder and holds his crossbow, watching the saviors’ path toward them coming down the hill.

There, Richard looks at Daryl.

“It’s them. We can wait for things to go bad, lose people, or we can do the hard thing…” He glances back at the saviors for a few seconds before looking at Daryl again. “Or choose our fates for ourselves.”

“No.”

Richard shrugs.

“Sorry.”

He turns around to carry out his plan with or without Daryl’s help, but Daryl drops his crossbow and takes Richard by the collar of his t-shirt to push him to the ground. He tries to fight back, but Daryl holds him with his own arm close to Richard’s neck, to then punch him, over and over until a river of blood descends from his nose to cover part of his face. Richard whines taking a canteen next to his face and hit Daryl, falling onto a side as both crawl on the ground to take their weapons to aim at their faces when they get up.

Richard breathes through his parted and broken lips and nods towards the saviors.

“There will be more. Or they will come back later, and we will have another chance. But we are running out of time. Your people need the kingdom to beat the saviors… We have to make sacrifices in one way or another. Guys like us… we’ve already lost so much.”

Daryl sees in his eyes the sadness for his loss, but that would never justify taking the life of another person to win that fight, not that way.

“Ya don’t know me.”

“I know that (Y/N) is stronger than us.”

To Richard’s surprise, Daryl lowers his crossbow, but the fierce look in his eyes is enough to make Richard take a step back.

“I’ll tell ya this jus’ once: If ma wife gets hurt, she dies, she catches a fever, she gets taken out by a walker, she gets hit by lighting, anythin’ happens to her, I’ll kill ya. Even if she jus’ gets a small cut in ‘er body, I’ll kill ya. So from now on: don’t talk to 'er, don’t look at 'er, don’t breathe near 'er. Fuck, don't even think about 'er.”

Richard holds his breath, looking at Daryl straight in his eyes.

“I would die for the kingdom.”

Daryl looks back at him, without any fear but with boiling anger.

“Why don’t ya?”

And then, he takes his backpack, his crossbow, and Daryl leaves.

When you turn off the lamp on the night table of your room, the light of the night comes in softly through the closed window, and you lay down sideways on your side of the bed as Daryl covers you with the blanket.

“Ya won’t take your clothes off?” He asks as he hugs you from behind.

“No…” You lie. “I’m cold.”

“I can help ya with that.” He says softly and moves to get closer to you. His arm hold you against him, giving you part of his warm. “Don’t worry ‘bout anythin’. No one ain’t gonna hurt ya. We’ll leave this place in a few days.”

You hold his hand on yours, waiting for him to fall sleep.

The anxiety and the fear inside you become one within you as the minutes pass in a dead silence. But suddenly, the world around you seems like a lie because everything is as quiet as if there were no walkers on the other side of the big gates, as if Richard hadn’t tried to hurt you without any remorse. Daryl told you because you already knew that something was happening and because he wanted you to stop going to that open field to practice. He couldn’t protect you without telling the truth. However, what hurt you the most is thinking how a life could mean nothing in the hands of other people: as if they had any rights over it. But the truth hits you hard too; because you did the same thing the first time you defended yourself from someone who tried to kill you for your weapon.

That didn’t make you a killer, too? Then, the guilt falls on you, the harsh reality of a murderer who tries to justifies a murder, just as Richard tried to do, just as you did. Everyone there, good or bad people were doing the same thing. Killing. Taking lives away. And you realized you couldn’t be part of all that. Not because you were weak but because you didn’t want to be the survivor that sees its friends die. And what if you die in the middle of the battle? Dying and causing pain to others, was that worth it? Or to stay alive but live in a constant pain? That life was like playing Russian roulette: none of you knew who could die or live, but all had to play. No exception. But you couldn’t stay and do it, so that night, you left before the game started.

That same night, you leave your backpack on the small bed and look around the place in that cold lonely night. It is a two-bedroom cabin. It is old, small but cozy, much better than a bed in the kingdom. This was a place you found days ago without telling anybody, not even Daryl. And as you lay down there, you hope that is the last time you start a new beginning far from killing, far from the fear of losing people, even if you had just lost your husband.

In the very early morning, near the garden of the Kingdom, a commotion catches Morgan and King Ezekiel’s attention. They run to the group of people who gathers around a fight, but no one is able to stop a wild Daryl, who is over Richard, punching him over and over until Morgan takes him by the arms and pulls him out of Richard before he could kill him. Daryl gets up and breathes hardly through his parted lips, watching Richard still on the ground and unable to move, or breathe.

“What is happening?!” Ezekiel asks, holding Richard and looking around. “Walk away, people. There is a lot to do today.”

The people listen, and Ezekiel glances at Daryl.

“Tell me right now why you did this.”

“That piece of shit did somethin’ to ma wife. She left!” Daryl is about to fall over Richard again, but Morgan holds him back. “I told him to stay away from ‘er!”

Ezekiel gets up leaving Richard on the ground, too weak to get himself up.

“What did Richard do to (Y/N)?”

Daryl looks at Ezekiel, not wanting to say what happened.

“Let him tell ya, I’ll go find ma wife.”

Daryl takes his crossbow from the ground and walks away with big steps towards the gates. Behind him, Morgan is following him.

“Daryl… Did (Y/N) leave a note?”

But he doesn’t stop.

“She wanted to get away from this fight. She doesn’t wanna see 'er friends being killed.”

“Because she knows that some of us could die.”

Daryl hates the way Morgan talks, like if Daryl didn’t understand that could happen. So, he turns around, giving Morgan a threatening look.

“Don’t talk to me like I was a damn child. Killin’ the saviors is the only way for me to make sure ma wife and friends will have a safe life.”

“Even if someone dies in the process?”

But Daryl doesn’t answer, and he yells at the man in charge of the gates to open it up. He walks out, completely sure he would find you sooner or later.

During a silent and almost deafening sunset, you walk through the forest near your house, with the quiver on your back and the bow in your hand, looking for some animal to eat. Everything is as it should be in the forest, everything there belongs to its place. Except you. But still listening to the birds sing in the long distance, you make your way until you find a squirrel that moves from here to there on the branch of a tree. You pull an arrow from the quiver; you connect it to the bow and lift it to the correct height close to your face, holding the air in your lungs. However, as a sudden sadness covers you because you couldn’t stop killing, another arrow flies close to you and sinks into the animal’s body.

You gasp in acknowledgment, so you turn around to see Daryl walking close to you, with your heart beating fast against your chest. He stops in front of you, looking at you through his head slightly down, just like he did when he was sad. He did that just with you, because just with you he was able to show how he truly felt, without feeling ashamed of feeling weak.

“This is the moment when you ask me why the hell I left you.” You say through the knot in your throat, but he just shakes his head softly.

“This is the moment when I say I missed ya.” He approaches you, almost afraid as if you are not real, and he puts his arms around you to embrace your waist, hiding his face in your neck, at the same time that you let go of the bow to feel him close to you. “I missed ya.”

As you sit down in your little bed, kicking your black boots off, Daryl leaves his backpack on the table in the middle of the room and looks inside for something. But before you know what it is, he throws it at you and you catch it perfectly. It is a peach, because he knows how much you like them. As you clean it against your clothes, Daryl sits in the chair that gives him a perfect view of you, resting his elbow against the wood, holding his chin in his hand.

“Explain it to me ‘cause I don’t get it.” He makes a gesture with his hand to point around the place. “I said I would protect ya. We were ‘bout to leave that place. But ya just walked away in the middle of the night… Why?”

His voice fill with disappointment pierces your ears, but you try to gather your ideas so that he understands your reasons.

“I’m tired. I’m afraid. And I don’t wanna see any of our friends being killed…and I realized I can’t neither. It’s too much to handle. I can kill, like, a person, and that’s what really scares me. I know they killed our friends, but this revenge, or justice, or whatever you want to call it: it will only endanger our people, and we will see more blood. And then we will have nightmares about their deaths, and we will not know what is worse: if sleep only to have nightmares about their deaths, or live awake in this real-life nightmare. I know I’m being selfish because they are willing to fight, but I can’t lose you or them.” You feel the tears in your eyes, but you rub your face with your hands to not let them fall right now. “I don’t want to be around if that happens.”

Daryl looks at you, rubbing his finger against his lip, trying to contain his own anger. He didn’t want to act like he used to, he didn’t want to yell at you for leaving him just the way you did. But that was hard for him too, it was too painful, almost impossible to bear the days he was without you, thinking that something bad could have happened to you because he couldn’t protect you. But right there, in front of you, he wants to tell you how scared he was when he didn’t find you by his side that morning, and that he couldn’t sleep the days after that.

“So what?” He says with a raspy voice. “What ‘bout me? I’m yer husband. Did ya think I’d jus’ sit there and do nothin’? That I would jus’ let ya get away from me? That was yer plan? Make me love ya and then leave me?”

Daryl was the strongest man, but the weakest too when it was about you. And you knew, that in that world or in the previous one, love was still a dangerous feeling, sometimes even more dangerous than a walker.

“That’s not true, Daryl: you know it.”

He laughs harshly.

“I realized I don’t know anythin’ about the woman I’m married to.”

“Ouch… That hurts.” You chuckle tiredly, then sighing until you found the right words. “I think it would be better if you get angry with me, if you kick the chair and tell me what I did wrong.”

Daryl takes a deep breath, trying to calm his wild heart.

“Nah. Ya are here with me now.” But, suddenly, he stands up, taking off his vest in his way to you, his gaze locked on yours as he begins to unbutton his shirt next. “But I think I need ya to learn your lesson in a different way.”

Your mouth is dry, and your own heart begins to beat at an alarming pace.

“Daryl… what are you doing?”

As he reaches the edge of the bed, he tosses his shirt aside, while, with the gentleness that didn’t usually characterize him on the outside, his thumb caresses your soft cheek, a warm contrast to his finger.

“Have ya ever been scared of me?”

Though he’s referring to that situation happening now in particular, you know he’s asking in general as well, if, perhaps, at some point in your marriage, you’ve seen him through different eyes. Perhaps with a fear reflected in them, a silent fear that would be overwhelming for him. But you shake your head, your gentle gaze on his ocean-colored eyes.

Daryl was a tender lover behind his tough appearance, and you were never scared, not by him.

“No. You know damn well I have not.”

“Not even once?”

His own doubt makes you smile a little bit.

“Not even once, Dixon, I know well you have a soft spot for me.”

“Hell yeah, woman, n’ only for ya.” He says, so serious like never before. “So if that’s true, lay down n’ lemme show ya how damn much I missed ya.”

You do as he tells you, your gaze on the wooden roof, feeling the knot in your stomach traveling to your lower part as he unbuttons and unzips your black jeans. It's torturously slow, but you know he's doing it as part of the lesson, because he's never denied you pleasure before. Since your marriage began, he was always a giver, taking your own pleasure as his own. It was like a rule for him to give you all the pleasure, and then give you a little more.

But when he removes all your clothes and his breath and his beard tickle your most sensitive area, your hands look blindly something to hold yourself onto, his long hair maybe, but he just pushes your hands away.

“No touchin’.” He says, dangerously low.

However, when his strong hands cling to your hips, his mouth sinking into you, you let out a tight gasp, your knees bending up. But the way he is moving against you as you move against him, too, makes him feel so needy for you, like he is in a beautiful hell. Your hands still in the air closed almost painfully, eyes closing too, arching your back, and mouth falling finally open.

“Daryl, wait–”

“Shut it.” He warns you, keeping his warm mouth close to your entrance. “Fuck, why ya always taste so damn good? Makes me wanna live in between your legs all the fuckin’ time.”

He wasn’t normally a very talkative person, but when Daryl was on the right mood he loved saying things that he knew would turn you on, leading you to the edge of being out of breath. He loved playing with you like he does again, his mouth kissing and licking and sucking, fingers holding onto the bones on your waist. The angry animal inside him woke up when you moan with open lips, sending a painful throbbing to the hardness in his pants.

He sucks hard on you, making you shake against him, holding yourself onto the blanket even when you want to hold his hair. But feeling you so needy for him, and only for him makes him feel about to explode, but he stops himself from lower one of his hand to his pants to stroke his manhood.

Daryl starts to feeling you moving against his face, and he takes pride that he could make you cum without being inside you, yet, because he’s not going to let you do that, hell no. No matter how much he enjoyed torturing you that way, he is ready to give you so much pleasure you wouldn’t think ever again about leaving him, no when he couldn’t live without you anymore.

So Daryl stands up, removing his hands from your body, giving you the time to catch some air as he unbuckles his belt, like the most erotic image in the world. His strong and naked chest rises and falls as he locks eyes with you, his mouth in a tight line as he removes his belt, not ready to smile even a little to you as you bite your own lips, hiding a smile.

“I will never be scared of you, but it scares me a little bit what is coming.”

He is kind of angry, but not with you, but with the idea of being a little bit animalistic, like to roll over onto your knees so he could hold himself on your hips, maybe even on your hair, pulling it just a little like he has done a few times when you two were getting playful.  

“Ya should be.” He says, so low and dangerous as he unbuttons his pants. “Now take the rest of yer clothes off.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, sitting back down to pull off your black t-shirt, with nothing underneath. The complete view of your now naked body is such a temptation for him, so much that he thinks he would give up soon. But no, he’s stronger than that.

“Now lay back down, n’ spread your legs open for me.”

Fuck. You think that couldn’t get any hotter, but you know it could with that look in his deep gaze, so you lick your dry lip and look back at him as he kicks his boots off, taking off his pants and his boxer next, while, still sitting, you try to look up only, even when there is a whole spectacle at the level of your own gaze.  

“Should I call you sir while I do that?” You smile sweetly at him, playing innocent.

And for the first time in the night, Daryl smiles back.

“I’m yer fuckin’ husband, peach, the same person that’s gonna make love to ya, maybe that way ya won’t leave me ever again. Now do as I tell ya.”

Though you can hear the sadness in his words, his voice doesn’t waver, not when he’s so ready to do what he promised, so with nothing else on your mind, you lay back down on the bed, spreading your legs as an invitation that Daryl immediately takes. He lays on top of you, and you can almost feel his own heartbeat as he sinks into you with one hand, while the other arm holds him up too close to your face. You feel him throbbing inside of you, and he holds himself on his legs, his free hand looking for the softness of your face to hold you there, kissing you deeply.

Your own hands hold his lower back, and this time, he lets you touch him freely. The warm of your fingers is melting him, but when he starts to move, he drowns your moans and his tense grunts in a kiss. His calloused hand grasps your face with a firmness but a sweet touch, as if you are a piece of glass, the most precious in the world, in his world.

Daryl never felt so primitive and he is too drunk with lust, but there is something intense and so erotic in the idea that he could push himself deeper into you, and that you would take everything and even beg for more. So he does, he presses into you deeper, harder than ever but not in a painful way because hurting you wasn’t in his nature, but he is taking you to the very edge in no time. You called out his name against his mouth as he starts moving faster against you, making you feel the tension building up on your stomach and in between your legs, so hot like hell itself, as intense as the beginning of the orgasm that is about to hit you soon if he keeps moving that way.

But it feels different from other times, short but in a new kind of intense. His thumb caresses your check, his forehead resting on your just a moment before he buries his face in your neck, the same finger sliding over your bottom lip, and that little action is so hot. The sounds he starts making against your neck are an arousing melody, sounds he muffles against your hair on his own path to much-needed release.

Your hands hold his lower back even harder, pulling him against you, your mouth against his shoulder, drowning out the forbidden sounds that come from between your lips, the view of the world fading as you close your eyes while letting out a hot cry as he makes you cum.

Finally, Daryl spills himself inside you, breathing through parted lips as he catches his breath.

After a long minute, or maybe two and when you can breathe again, you speak softly.

“I’m sorry, I never wanted to leave you alone, or make you think that I don't love you.”

Daryl raises his head, getting lost in the way you ask for his forgiveness with your eyes, too. But in that moment, he knows everything will be alright.

“So ya won’t leave me again?” He asks softly, but, too deep in your own sadness to speak properly, you just shake your head. “Good. ‘Cause ya got to know I’ll chase ya to the end of the fuckin’ world, burnin’ everythin' on ma way ‘till I find ya.”

[bohnerrific69]

WASTING TIME? ﾉ EKKO

pairing: alternative!ekko x fem!reader

blurb — theme/content: fluff. "angst" if you squint? idk. reader has fomo (fear of missing out) implied. it's ekko from s2 ep7. ꒰ word count: 960 ꒱

"babe?..." you said as appeared on ekko's room door, seeing him sat in front of his desk with a million papers above, his inventor plan of attack as he liked to call. he was resting his face in one of his hands while his elbows were resting on the table and its papers.

"hm? yes miss? whatcha need?" he rubbed his eyes and mumbled without looking at you, from far away you could notice a little smile appearing on his face, making yourself smile too knowing that his one it was because of your presence. it was like this since your relationship started, being on the same tune, contagious.

"you done? i mean... doesn't look very done to me, but..." you replied while getting steps closer to his desk, contouring his body just to being up behind him, leaning down to put support your hands on his shoulders. "just checkin' you up.”

"ah, i think i am really on the final steps to conclude this... am only securing it all goes fine," ekko muttered concentrated doing some more scribbles, at the same time using his left hand to catch one of yours from his shoulders, bringing it closer to his face so he could kiss the inner palm of your hand, making you smile. "besides... why the shawty is awakened this hour?”

"aah i- i missed you on the bed, the usual..." you yawned lazily and leaned all your body on his, being with your chin above his head and arms wrapped around his neck. his body heat was radiating and smelling so good as he took a bath some minutes before, making you sniff his hair just to feel the loveable coconut shampoo smell that you buyed for him.

“i am managing my time very well lately and the project is in the dead end, this time it's the only last time i'll be overworking, ‘kay?” he giggled at your sniffing on his hair, at this point it turned out to become common you doing this, it was cute; lifting his head to look at you, endened giving you free access to kiss his forehead, as you should and did.

“i know… i just can't sleep because of that thing,” you pointed out with your chin the blackboard on the wall with various drawings about this new invention. “i don't want to not be here when you finish this…,” you sighed, catching a chair nearby and sitting really close at ekko's side.

your sudden change from a tired expression to a worried and sadden one was not missed by him, who quickly dropped his pencil at the desk and turned his torso to look at you directly with those frowned big eyes so sweet of him. “babe? what is wrong? you- you don't need to worry about that.”

“nah… just some bullshits passing through my mind… i'm tired, only that.” you looked away from his gaze and scratched your forehead, squirming on the chair a little to see if it could make you comfortable to talk about the subject. it wasn't helping, you're not the kind of person who likes to talk about serious things like this. always praying and hoping for better days, trying to ignore the rocks life throws at you, till you reach the limit and suddenly explodes as a tiny thing goes wrong. like this you wouldn’t worry anyone but only yourself.

“hey, i know when something is wrong with you…” but of course he knew, ekko being your best friend who turn out to be your boyfriend, always being a great observant to notice every detail of you, and care about each one of them. that's why it was so easy for you to fall for him. 

“it's that thing we talked about before?” he asked while softly catched your chin with one of his hands to make you lock eyes with him, he looked so worried and still so caringly about you, it made your butterflies on the stomach do flips. “y-yeah… it's making me anxious…”

“hey, you’re not- you don't lose anything not being here when i finish this…,” he fixed his posture on the chair, quickly catching your hand and intertwining your fingers. “i promised you that everything that i create, you will be the first eyes besides mine that will appreciate it when finished. just because it's not your thang to understand inventions, or not being here when i end those things… doesn't mean you're less of a girlfriend or bad person.”

ekko was so damn comprehensible with everyone, and mainly you, that it made you heart aches everytime you had every time you had a moment of low self-esteem and your anxiety spoke louder. but he was always so careful and always knew what to say to calm and reassure you, how can you not love him?

“and not to forget too, you're never gonna not be enough for me, never. you heard me?” you felt that warm and asphyxiating feeling gathering on your throat wanting to cry but holded enough and only sighed tired, giving him an agreeing smile. “i know… i'm sorry for-” 

“don't need to apologize babe, i understand you…” he pulled you to make you sit on his lap, hugging your waist, making you feel safe. “life is stressing me out these days ekko, but… you make it better,” you mumbled on his neck, hugging him back and closing your eyes.

“i love you” he replied, by the proximity you could know and feel that he was smiling. “i love you more” and now you too.

(...)

after spending some minutes staying like this you happened to start sleeping, there, on ekko’s arms and lap while he continued finishing his invention, feeling safe, loved and enough.

a/n: this was writed only for satisfy myself! i love him so much, i'm so enchanted. ngl, write the universe from s2 ep7 it's easy for me😭 he's still the same but i love how there's no conflicts around. this is the actually the third writing piece i post here, i hope you enjoyed and it's not ooc, writed this while almost sleeping. (i edited this ekko image here.

tagging some mutuals to boost the post! sorry for the bothering. 🤍 @strawb3rrystar @marchsfreakshow @wcnderlnds @decaf-mother @jazzy-reads @mistysconcilium | join my taglist here.

[zhoudadudugongjin]

You know what actually no I'm not going to just tag this with Liu Bei and Cao Cao I am gonna explain WHY it is literally them with a full-ass timeline (pulled from their wikipedia pages)

c189 - Liu Bei (aged 28) and Cao Cao (aged 34) first meet on the same side when they join the campaign of the 18 lords against Imperial Chancellor Dong Zhuo, with the shared goal of freeing Liu Bei's distant kid cousin the Emperor of the Han from the tyranny of his regent. Such a noble cause! Could this be the start of a long, solid friendship for life...?

192-194 - A couple of other warlords turn on each other and decide to fight it out, but Liu Bei and Cao Cao back different sides. Liu Bei is completely destroyed in battle by Cao Cao. Their first fallout.

195-196 - Cao Cao beats up a guy called Lü Bu, who then scurries off to take shelter with Liu Bei. But then! Lü Bu stabs Liu Bei in the back, so what does he do? He flees to the capital, which is now under the control of... you guessed it, Cao Cao!

198 Now that Liu Bei and Cao Cao are friends again, they team up together to take Lü Bu down. Cao Cao promotes his old friend to General of the Left and they become best buddies! "Cao Cao treated him with great sympathy. When they went out, they would ride in the same chariot and when they sat, it was on the same mat.[Sanguozhi zhu 13]"

199-201 But! Oh no! There's trouble in paradise! Because now Cao Cao he has the emperor in his pocket and the entire government under his control, just like Dong Zhuo once did. And Liu Bei does not like that!! Because it is a betrayal of all his noble ideals!! So while still living in the capital and wiling away his time gardening, he joins a secret coup to attempt to assassinate Cao Cao and free the Emperor (which fails). It is also around this time that Cao Cao makes his famous quote: "Currently among the heroes of the empire, there is only you and I." So romantic.

Tired of being kept as Cao Cao's pet, Liu Bei takes the excuse of leading a campaign to run away from the capital. Cao Cao sends spies after him, but begrudgingly has to let him and his hot valiant generals go.

201-208 These are the years where, hurt by betrayal, Cao Cao chases Liu Bei across the country and whoops his ass several times, stealing his provinces and commanderies and forcing him to take shelter under various lords. During this period he also steals one of Liu Bei's sworn brothers (Guan Yu) and tries to turn him into his sugar baby, but that's a whole different story... Their final big fight in this period was the famous Battle of the Red Cliffs, where Liu Bei allied with Sun Quan in the south and together they burnt Cao Cao's army to ash.

208-217 We enter the prime years of the Three Kingdoms era. The eternal squabble between Cao Cao, Liu Bei and Sun Quan, and we learn why you should never have three children. Because they will endlessly gang up on each other 2v1. It is also during this period that Cao Cao declares himself King of Wei, still with the rightful emperor of the Han under his thumb.

218-219 - Liu Bei and Cao Cao get involved in another big fight over Hanzhong Commadery and Liu Bei wins and also declares himself King (of Hanzhong).

220 - Cao Cao finally dies, aged 65. But it's not over, it never will be. Liu Bei continues fighting against Cao Cao's son, who deposes the Emperor and claims himself as the son of Heaven. When he learns that his poor distant cousin Emperor Xian is dead, Liu Bei then ALSO declares himself Emperor because at least HE is a scion of the imperial house, dammit!

223 - Liu Bei finally also dies, aged 62. But his campaigns against the northern kingdom of Wei do not. His Prime Minister Zhuge Liang continues the fight until his death in 234, at which point his protege Jiang Wei picks up the mantle and makes no less than ELEVEN failed attacks against the Cao family before also dying.

In the end, they are all defeated by this guy:

i love it when two adult men have a homoerotic teenage girl friendship and falling out

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

If it’s not too much, may I request how Coffee views everyone. He one of my fav skeletons u write

Undertale Sans - They're friends. Coffee likes Sans really much actually as Sans is always calm and knows how to deal with him when he's too anxious. He feels safe around him and regrets he can't hang out more because Wine doesn't like him.

Undertale Papyrus - They're close friends. Coffee is struggling to follow Papyrus' energy sometimes, but Papyrus is extremely patient and works hard to include him in everything he wants to do. Papyrus is also a bit mischievous and likes to drag Coffee into trouble. Coffee usually completely forgets his anxiety when he's hanging out with him.

Underswap Sans - He's often hanging out with Blue when he's hanging with Papyrus. Blue is less patient than Papyrus, but he tries to hold back when Coffee is around. Coffee can tell that's because his brother is a little like him and so he knows how to deal with the constant anxiety. Honey is also one of his best friends so he sees him a lot and they grow closer.

Underswap Papyrus - Coffee and Honey are best friends. When Coffee is not home, most of the time, he's hanging out with Honey, Rus or Ben. Everything seems natural with Honey. They're both artists, and they both like movies, comics, and animals. They can just hang out in bed for hours in complete silence and still have fun. Additionally, he doesn't need to talk all the time and can be understood even when he can't speak. Honey also likes to cuddle and don't think it's weird Coffee is lacking affection so much. They're just comforting each other.

Underfell Sans - Coffee likes Red, even though Red is not always nice to him lol. But sometimes he gets scared outside and Red is sometimes the only one that looks a bit like his brother so Coffee feels safer hanging out with him. Added to that, he knows even if he acts like he's annoyed, Red actually likes him and often asks his brother how he's going when he doesn't show up for a while. Red is a big softie, he's just hiding well.

Underfell Papyrus - He sees Edge as a sort of role model. He's big and strong and confident, and Coffee would love to be like him one day. Well, that's not ready to happen, but at least Edge doesn't push him away, far from that. Edge is actually nice to Coffee and patience. He doesn't know why, but Coffee awakens his protective instincts. Edge is not huggable though, which frustrates Coffee a little.

Horrortale Sans - His second dad, quite literally. When Coffee has troubles, he runs to Oak for help because Oak has adult energy. He's older, so he knows what to do when he messes up big and doesn't know what to do anymore. Oak doesn't mind, he likes having him around. Oak also likes to talk shit about Wine and learns things to Coffee that he knows Wine is going to hate.

Horrortale Papyrus - They're good friends. Coffee likes hanging out with Willow because he is way less energetic than Blue or Papyrus. Willow also taught him how to cook and Coffee is always excited to help when he comes to the farm.

Horrorswap Sans - It took him four months to notice Blue and Nugget are not the same person, despite, you know, the missing arm. He always wondered why Blue was colder sometimes, but now it makes a lot more sense. He still likes Nugget, even though something doesn't seem quite right with him.

Horrorswap Papyrus - He loves hanging out with Pumpkin, but it's best if there's someone to supervise them. Usually, when they're all alone, one of them will have a panic attack somehow which he's going to make the other freak out and have a panic attack as well. They love painting together though, and the fact Pumpkin can't talk is kinda making Coffee more comfortable.

Horrorfell Sans - They grew closer since he's always hanging out in the farm. Coffee likes that he's calmer than Red and a little more gentle. He's like a calmer version of his brother which doesn't want to take control of the whole world, which helps him to take a break from Wine from time to time.

Horrorfell Papyrus - Like Pumpkin, Coffee is weirdly obsessed with Chief. He doesn't know why, he's comforting. Maybe that's because he looks scary even though he's in a wheelchair and Coffee knows he can count on him to defend in case something bad happens. Or maybe Chef has butterfly pheromones that attract Swap Papyruses, we'll never know.

Swapfell Sans - Nox makes him uncomfortable, mainly because he's always fighting with his brother and tries to manipulate him to go against Wine. Coffee doesn't like he thinks he can't think by himself and even though he hangs with him a lot because of Rus, he doesn't like him.

Swapfell Papyrus - Rus is one of his best friends. He never gets bored when Rus is around. They took a long time to warm up to the other, but watching their brothers' shenanigans got them closer. Rus awakened Coffee's chaotic energy he didn't know he had. He's also a terrible influence and drags Coffee in his machiavellian schemes to ruin people's day. They got in trouble together a million times and they'll do it again. You know what they say? Opposites attracted. They both have literally opposite personalities and they can't get bored of the other.

Fellswap Gold Sans - That's his brother. Coffee loves him and still sees him as his role model, even though life on the Surface taught him Wine hid a hell lot of things from him. He desperately wants Wine to understand he needs more independence and to start a new life now, but Wine is not ready to let go yet.

Outertale Sans - They don't know each other that well. They met once or twice when he hung up with Sun, but that's all. He seems nice though!

Outertale Papyrus - They're friends, but they don't see each other often because Sun is working a lot. But they enjoy the small moments they can be together, even more since they both love painting.

Dancetale Sans & Papyrus - All Coffee knows is that apparently they're famous and pass on TV sometimes. He never met them though, or maybe saw them once or twice from far away.

Dancefell Sans - They're friends, even though they don't see each other a lot. He likes that this version of Red has anxiety like him. They have actually a lot of things in common. Except for the dance. Coffee hates dancing. But he likes watching his friends do it for the both of them.

Dancefell Papyrus - They're friends... He thinks? He's not sure. Tango is weird. Sometimes he acts like their the best friends ever, and sometimes he completely ignores him to talk with his TikTok fans... Coffee is not sure what's their relationship or even if what he thinks of him is really sincere or motivated by views. He has mixed feelings about this.

Farmtale Sans - He's family. Coffee is pretty much always hanging in his house or with his brother, and Sam is just happy his brother has someone to talk to. Sam is always there when Coffee needs it and doesn't hesitate to scream at Wine when he does something that makes his brother anxious. Coffee confesses easily to Sam when he doesn't feel well and he's glad to have his support whatever he does.

Farmtale Papyrus - Ben and Coffee are pretty much brothers at this point. They're always together, it's rare when they don't see each other for more than two days in a row. They have similar personalities and they warmed up pretty much immediately because they like the same things. Ben is also a lot more anxious than Coffee, which he didn't think could be possible, so he sometimes has to make choices for both of them, which is very new for Coffee. They're helping each other to heal from past traumas and they're so happy they have each other to gossip at 3 in the morning.

Mafiatale Sans & Papyrus - His brother asked him to stay far away from them, and just staying two minutes in the same room than Creeper told him Wine was right and to not interact. They're scary.

Mafiafell Sans & Papyrus - They kidnapped him once to piss off Wine and Coffee and decided he doesn't like them. Fang is nice to him, but Torpedo is a jerk, he's mean and he scared him on purpose. He hates them, he doesn't want anything to do with them and he's still mad at his brother for letting them do that to him.

Ink - They're friends, he thinks. He's not sure honestly. His brain struggles to understand what's the matter with Ink. Blue is already hyperactive, but Ink is at a whole another level of hyperactivity and he struggles to follow him. It doesn't help that Ink forgot him several times in different AUs, like this time he had to run for his life, chased by a T-Rex Papyrus who wanted to eat him alive. He's not a big fan of traveling with Ink.

Error - Accidentally got caught by Error once and that was the worst time of his life. Error threatened to erase him if he didn't tell where was Ink, but he really didn't know where Ink was and just cried in fear for two hours. Eventually, Error got bored of him and released him, and Coffee promised to never stay in his way again lol.

Disbelief Papyrus - They're close friends, it's no surprise to anyone. He's a calmer version of Papyrus, and so Coffee feels safe around him. Delta is also a good hugger, and that's good because Coffee doesn't like that he looks so sad sometimes.

Killer Sans - They're friends, but Killer acts a little weird sometimes and creeps him out just a tiny bit. Coffee doesn't trust him entirely because he has a very high LV and he knows that makes monsters unstable. But at the same time, Killer is funny and knows how to make him comfortable. Coffee knows he lost his Papyrus too and so he's nice to him because Killer calls him Papyrus sometimes and looks really regretful. It never for long, but Coffee can tell he's not feeling well.

Dustale Sans - They have a relationship for sure. What type though? No idea. Dune is just standing there, holding his hand, making him very uncomfortable. Sometimes he sniffs him too. Coffee is not sure if it's positive or if he wants to eat him. Probably a little bit of both. That's both scary and fascinating.

[mixelation]

been rotating a minakushi/mikoto concept, help

concept is basically: kushina and minato have an open relationship because he takes Long Missions; kushina starts hooking up with mikoto. kushina and minato would have been 19-20 when itachi is born, so i think mikoto is definitely already married. on the fence about how much fugaku knows about this and his opinion. leaning towards "fugaku is cool with mikoto hooking up with other women, because their marriage is largely political and he doesn't consider kushina a threat to their marriage*"

*for multiple reasons-- kushina can't get mikoto pregnant (important because this is why he married mikoto), kushina's not going to displace him as head of house or head of clan or gain sway within the clan from it (because she's not an uchiha), my understanding is that in japanese culture f/f romance is often seen as a phase/immature and not necessarily "real"

anyway then minato gets nominated for hokage and is back in konoha mostly full time again. instead of breaking up with mikoto, kushina pitches a threesome, and mikoto goes for it without consulting or telling fugaku. itachi is a toddler and she'd thought she'd be going back to active missions but the clan wants her to be a perfect housewife with more babies and she loves her kid but she's BORED and minakushi make her feel good. kushina is kind of envisioning this as a continuation of the "vaguely open marriage" arrangement mikoto has because kushina is not a homewrecker, but minato doesn't give a shit (and is maybe even MORE into it?) so she changes her mind quickly. she and mikoto are "best friends" so no one blinks an eye at mikoto occasionally being over late

threesome doesn't last very long because minato becoming hokage means a lot of power for him but also a lot of loss of privacy. they mutually agree to break it off and mikoto and kushina remain close friends. the timeline is such that sasuke is definitely fugaku's, but also people will question this later (i went back and forth on it, because i don't think minato is the type to abandon a baby thta's biologically his, and mikoto isn't the type to slip up with her contraceptive & i like the idea that ninja contraceptives are really really good)

anyway. flash forward a year and a half-ish and naruto is born. the affair creates a butterfly effect where, idk, there's an uchiha guard or maybe even mikoto herself on kushina's protection squad, and this is enough to tip the obito vs minato battle hard enough in minato's favor that his intervention is better. leaning towards the kyuubi being partially extracted such that there's still an attack on the village itself, but kushina reseals it into her and comes out physically spent but in no danger of dying.

so the namikaze-uzumaki family is all alive, but kushina isn't doing well physically or mentally and minato is both exhausted and stupid busy trying to clean up the mess and they have a one day old baby and no family help. (kakashi is fourteen and jiraiya is off trying to track down the mask man, and yep that's about all they have to lean on.) so mikoto shows up with baby sauske strapped to her back and is like "okay, we're a village and we help each other"

kushina: no, no, i want to be a good mom, i can do this--

mikoto: we're helping each other. you're helping me by sitting with the babies while they nap and i'm helping you by making a list of chores that need to be done by the help your husband, our benign dictator, is going to assign

kushina: but i want to be the one who--

mikoto: i know, i wanted to too. but you need to rest and hiring someone to clean your house because your husband won't your husband can't feels SO good

and mikoto tells fugaku she's basically living at her friend's just while she gets back on her feet (and isn't this SO good for the clan, her helping the hokage's wife with their baby), but then she just. never really leaves

for this AU i'm also toying with the idea of fugaku/the uchiha in general still wanting a coup and mikoto NOT wanting it because she wants to fuck the hokage in this universe, so there's some drama about what happens if the hokage cucks the uchiha clan head??? but also mikoto lets itachi be pushed through the ranks because she wants him to take over as clan head ASAP

[inquisimer]

wip wednesday

been a HOT minute since I did one of these, but my brain is spinning with [redacted] number of Veilguard fics, so I'm back with a vengeance, and a snippet from my beefed up Ossuary reunion for Arlow & Lucanis >:] I just think he should have been a little more fucked up about it all, tbh

tagging forward to @crabs-with-sticks | @shivunin | @dreadfutures | @queenaeducan | and @rosella-writes!

He was thinner and gaunter, cheeks sunken around the unkempt beard. Grime and sweat clung to his skin and she did not need to see beneath his ragged robes to know that he had as many new scars as he did split ends. A flash of anger briefly interrupted her relief, but underneath the toll this last year had taken were the familiar dips and planes of her best friend. “It’s really you,” she said, slipping into Antivan as she ran her hands up and down his arms. The moment was tenuous and she feared that if she stopped touching him, he would disappear back into grief-stricken memory. “You’re here, you’re here, and you’re alive.” For all the joy rushing through her, that edge of wariness hadn’t left his face. It clung to his furrowed brow and the longer it did, the faster Arlow’s smile faded into trepidation. “Arlow,” he murmured again, then closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. “I want to believe you are real, and if you are, I’m sorry, but I cannot be sure unless—“ A splitting pain burst through Arlow’s head as Lucanis smashed his brow into hers. She released him and stumbled back, hand catching at her temple. Stars danced across her vision and she swallowed bile that rose in her throat—it had not been that long since Solas’ ritual, and her head did not take so well to another impact so soon. The blow reverberated through her skull; dimly, she registered the crackle of the Fade at her back as the blurred shadow of Lucanis stalked forward. “Hey!” A wall of ice sprayed between the two Crows, stopping Lucanis in his tracks. He stared at Neve over Arlow’s shoulder. “I don’t know you,” he said. “You’re about to, if you don’t back off.” A featherlight touch brushed the back of Arlow’s neck and a surge of healing rolled through her. “You good, Rook?” “Fine,” she ground out, pushing back to her feet with a glare. “What the fuck, Lucanis?” He was still staring at Neve, mouth slightly parted. The wariness had vanished, replaced by confusion. If she didn’t know the exact move he’d used, Arlow might have thought he dazed himself in his attack. “I don’t know you,” he repeated, “which means that she could not have plucked out out of my memories, which means that you—“ His eyes flicked to Arlow, and she recognized them immediately. They looked exactly the way hers had since they left the Diamond. Hopeful, and utterly afraid of that hope. “You’re real,” he whispered. “You’re really here. Arlow—“ He staggered forward and Neve raised her staff, but Arlow held up a hand. “Let him through, Neve.” “Rook—“ “Dispel it, or I’ll do it for you.” “Fine, but if you die I’m taking you to Nevarra, because I will not be the one explaining it to Lace.”

[peachhcs]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachhcs/768315021606469633/httpswwwtumblrcompeachhcs768260981215330304

oh my god. i love them so much and im so glad they are doing better!

mack is so fucking funny… wait till he sees all the scratch and hickeys all over will…

part 12/slight bonus! writing macklin's dialogue and banter is my favorite thing to do bc he obviously loves will and samy and loves to poke fun at will about every single thing

au masterlist

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11

"sooo, tell us about your weekend," thomas asked as soon as he got the chance once practice was over for the day on monday. the others circled in aroun him and the blonde just as curious to know too.

will flushed from where he sat at his stall cleaning himself up and preparing for a shower, "it was really good. we had a lot of fun."

"you gotta bring her to one of our parties. we're dying to meet her after hearing so much," eklund cut in with a little smirk.

the sharks players had been itching to meet samy since they found out she was their rookie's longtime best friend and girlfriend. they'd only heard stories and seen the photos.

"yeah, maybe next time or when she comes to a game," will hummed, glad his teammates were eager to meet her. it reminded him of boston and his linemates who were also was excited to meet samy when they moved to plymouth.

"how much fun did you guys really have?" thomas poked some more obviously just in good fun, but also to tease the blonde.

"let's just say will's passenger seat was not in the right position when i got into it," macklin cut in before will could answer.

the bonde's face quickly burned in embarrassment as he eyed his friend to shut up.

"woah..did you guys go at it?" thomas continued along with a few snickers from the others around them.

"maybe," will tried playing it off. he didn't mind the teasing, but he did kind of mind telling them about his sex life because obviously, that was a pretty intimate and private topic that he wasn't going to willingly share with everyone.

"aw, come on. don't be shy. you totally did," ecklund roughed up will's arm in a teasing manner. all the hockey player did was shake his head slightly and play it off with a smile.

they seemed to lay off for now which will was grateful for. he escaped back into the showers to clean himself off and get out of the rink before anyone else wanted to poke at him about his weekend.

by the time him and macklin got back into his car, most of the guys were gone already so the blonde evaded anymore questions they had. the two threw their stuff into the back and then got themselves situated in the front seats.

as will messed around with some things before starting the car, he didn't realize his shirt had ridden up and exposed a bit of his back. macklin was adjusting himself and snapping his seatbelt into place when his eyes caught sight of will's exposed skin and then the slight red.

"woah, you take too hot of a shower or something?" the brunette wondered to which will grew confused.

"huh?"

"your back is like red. you good?"

still, will was confused so he reached around to touch his back where the skin was exposed. he felt around, not feeling anything tender, but his fingers did brush over a line of raised skin.

"just let me see for a second," macklin offered, wanting to make sure his friend was okay. he helped will lift his shirt up more and that's when he saw more red marks running up and down will's back like someone attacked him.

"holy fuck, why is your back all scratched up?"

as soon as the question left his lips, macklin immediately knew and will remembered at the same time. the brunette scrunched his nose up, "dude, what the fuck. this too? jesus, how hard did you go this weekend?"

the blonde's face flushed in more embarrassment as he quickly pulled his shirt all the way down. "what? we didn't go that hard," will defended himself.

"how many times did you even fuck? i knoew the car was 1," macklin raised his eyebrow and will seriously couldn't believe he was having this conversation again.

"i guess 3. the other 2 were in my room," he admitted a bit sheepishly.

"oh my god. you're disgusting. remind me to never be in the same house as you two.," macklin shook his head like he was some disappointed dad hearing all of this.

"hey. if you had a girlfriend right now, i know you'd be the exact same, so i don't wanna hear it," will rolled his eyes.

"please tell me that's it. please tell me i'm not gonna discover anything else remaining from this weekend that has to do with that," macklin made a circular motion with his hand towards will, a look of disgust still on his features.

"there's hickeys on my chest, but that's it. swear it," will watched macklin roll his eyes hearing that.

"jesus christ, smitty. you guys are hornyyy, wow. i gotta go home and drink bleach so i never think of this again," the brunette shook his head which earned him the middle finger as will finally pulled out of the parking lot.

"you're so over dramatic. what happens when you get a girlfriend?"

"we won't be as horny as you two," macklin shot right back without mssing a beat.

"and what happens if you guys end up having to do long distance and don't see one another for weeks on end?" will raised his eyebrow.

"that will be none of your business," the younger boy crossed his arms.

"right. can't wait to see the hickeys on you then. i'll tease you all about it," the blonde grinned and macklin shoved him.

it was safe to say neither of them talked about the occurrences in will's car ever again. or at least until samy came back to visit. the younger brunette made sure to stay far, far away while she was in town again.

[skeedelvee]

Carry On Countdown Day 4 - Daydreaming

For this year's COC I've decided to put together daily fic rec lists! Let me know if you find any new favorite reads from these <3

For todays prompt I've gone with fics that involve dreaming

A Dream is a Wish by @dragoneggos

Rated T, 17,239 words

This one is really sweet! Dream friends to dream lovers to real life lovers ❤️

"I began to cherish the time we had, the few hours in a day where I could pretend I didn’t hate him, where it wasn’t Agatha’s hand I was holding, but his. Where I could watch him unabashedly, and whisper nonsense to him until the sky opened to the sun. I dreaded the coming of day. In the darkness, we could pretend." Simon Snow doesn't know who the boy who's been haunting his dreams is. But Baz Pitch knows. Baz knows that it's been Simon the whole time. Simon he's been sharing dreams with, sharing everything with since they were eight years old. But how do you tell your arch nemesis that it was you who held them while they cried? It's even harder to tell them, when you've been kidnapped by numpties.

I'd Gladly Eat You for Breakfast by @whogaveyoupermission

Rated M, 6,981 words

Always love a good sex dream fic and this one’s great

When Simon has a sex dream, Baz asks for a demonstration.

Gates of Ivory and Horn by @aristocratic-otter

Rated E, 16,094 words

This one’s dream-ish, but I think it counts! Simon is shown two visions of the future and has to pick which ones real. SO GOOD!

Simon Snow falls to a Humdrum attack and is locked in a deadly dream. To survive, he has to choose the dream that is true. But Simon's not historically been good at recognising lies...

Cumdrop Buttons by @martsonmars

Rated E, 4,427 words

Simon has always been food motivated, so this fic is so him. And great for the holiday season! 🎄

“So good,” he whispers, lips wet and shining with saliva and precome. “You taste so good. I want to swallow you whole.” I shouldn’t find this as erotic as I do, but this is Simon, and of course eating people turns out to be a huge turn on for him. (I should add cannibalism to the list of his love languages, right next to homicide.) When Simon wakes up from a biscuit-themed wet dream, Baz has no other choice but to indulge him and roleplay his own "demise by mastication".

A Restless Mind by Theweatherbee

Rated E, 21,360 words

Dreaming and daydreaming in this one! Truly excellent! Pining Simon is the best

He was staring at Baz's legs, at his footwork, at his legs again, at his arms, and his legs just a little bit more, and then his face—he was staring at Baz like he’d never seen him before, which was ridiculous, because he’d spent most of his academic career staring at him. And then Coach Mac blew the whistle and Baz jogged to a stop, breathing heavily, and he pulled up his jersey to wipe the sweat off his face, and Simon's insides were performing some complicated acrobatics as he stared helplessly at Baz's stomach. A thought came to Simon, unasked for, something that hit both like a realization and like something he had always known. Baz was proper fucking fit. Baz was unreasonably fit. Baz was...Baz was looking right at him. In which Simon has a dream that has him looking differently at Baz. Baz notices.

✨Gratuitous self rec✨

Buttered Up by me! @skeedelvee

Rated E, 799 words

Baz and butter? It’s Simon’s perfect dream! 😂

Simon has a dream, it involves a gratuitous amount of butter and a tiny Baz Pitch.

If you have any recs that fit the prompt that I've missed, feel free to leave them in the comments! There's plenty of gaps in my reading so there's a good chance I may not have read it.

Also I've had a hard time finding if some people are here on Tumblr, so if you know someone who hasn't been tagged, feel free to leave that in the comments as well <3

@carryon-countdown

[adioringhamzah]

daddy pt 2 (pt 1 here)

tw : vomiting, pregnancy, fluff

what if having a family with the best friend you hooked up with, what you needed all along

it was already like 3 pm, and you were still at hamzah's house, you basically spent half of the day after he threw the test, just kissing, talking, and kissing some more. you were starting to get hungry, and hamzah had the great idea to order out, "mm, what about sushi??" you told him, he knew it was your favourite food, always trying to go to japanese restaurants any chance you'd get.

but you looked around and started to realize that you totally forgot about your potential baby. the gorgeous man sat next to you seemed to have the exact same realisation, and you looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity. you both forgot about your hunger, and you walked all the way to the bathroom, taking the handful of tests that you threw on the floor. you sat right next to hamzah, and red and blue jumped between you too.

hamzah told you to show it to the cats first, trying to lighten the mood. red purred and blue started attacking the pillow. you both laughed, their reaction not helping you at all. you handed a test to hamzah, and you counted to 3 so you could look at them at the same time. on 3 you looked at it and you weren't even that shocked, there it was, "you are pregnant" written, it couldn't be more clear. you kinda hoped it was a failed test, but judging on the look of hamzah, it wasn't.

his eyes were wide open, even darker than usual. "OMG y/n, i can't believe it" he basically screamed and took you in his arms, you started crying just like that morning. nothing felt real anymore. how could a simple one night stand with one of your best friends turn into something that would change your whole life? you were still in hamzah's arms, loving the warmth his body gave you and his masculine smell, you recognized the myslf perfume you had gifted him for his birthday.

after all, things weren't that bad, you had both confessed your love to each other and were ecstatic with how close you got to him in just a few hours. you stayed in the same position for a while, until hamzah lowered his arms to your hips and then to your stomach that he gently touched.

you basically shivered when he took off your ooc shirt to touch you without any barrier. he looked at your lacey bra with so much lust, and you took the chance to remove his own shirt, slipping it through his head. he looked annoyed that you blocked his view for even a second, but you were quick to remove your bra, and he was even quicker to touch your tits.

you lightly moaned, and he looked overly satisfied to see how much power he had on you. you both looked at each other with lust until you were reminded that in 9 months, you would have a mini you.

you started talking about how he or she would look, you hoped for a little girl with your hair colour but hamzah's curls, and a mix of all your features, it was fun to guess, but a little less fun to imagine how much your lives would change. but you weren't that stressed because you knew hamzah would make a great dad. you reassured him when you saw his eyes starting to water, knowing that he didn't have the easiest childhood.

once again, you just kinda starred at each other until he anxiously broke the silence, "erm.. i have something to ask you", his voice was shaky, and you started to imagine the worst, "what if he's asking you to abort, or he just doesn't want to do anything with you?" you thought to yourself.

your overthinking was quickly interrupted by the man sitting next to you "so do you want to be.. my girlfriend? only if you want to, of course", he was blushing, and you stood there absolutely speechless.

it was honestly all you've ever wanted, and considering the circumstances, it made sense. moreover, all the times you hung out together could probably be considered as more dates than you could count.

it felt like a dream, and you agreed as quickly as you could, trying not to make him more anxious than he already was. he leaned in to kiss you, and he took you by your hand, leading you to his bedroom. once you were there, he gently layed you onto his queen size bed as if you were a fragile porcelain doll.

as if what he wanted to do to you wouldn't break a porcelain doll in millions of tiny pieces.

meanwhile, he stood next to the bed, removing his pants as fast as he could, visibly struggling with his belt.

at the same time, you felt a sour taste come up your throat, and before even realising what was happening, you threw up all over hamzah's sheets, feeling extremely embarrassed. when you looked up, he wasn't anywhere to be found, and you started thinking you might have fucked it all up already. you were anxiously overthinking but were soon reassured by the sight of a curly haired boy come through the door.

he was carrying a cup of tea, honey candies, and a box of pills. he approached you, unbothered by the puke, and gave you a forehead kiss. "soo i found these pills, but i actually don't think you can take them" pointing at the pregnant character drawn on the box. he looked so embarrassed as if he forgot you had just puked all over his bed. he didn't even mention it, making you feel at ease, and gently took the dirty sheets from you. he left to go put it in the washing machine, and while you were sipping your lemon tea, you thought how caring hamzah was and how a good parent he will be to your mini you. you couldn't wait.

5 months later :

you came home with hamzah from a shopping trip. you didn't find anything worth buying, but was relieved to finally be able to get in bed. you had moved in with your boyfriend as soon as the lease on your apartment ended, so basically just a few days after the start of your relationship. considering the circumstances, it felt like the best thing to do, moreover you loved his loft, it even had a spare room for your baby girl that you both couldn't wait to meet. as soon as hamzah unlocked the door, you threw yourself on the couch, he rushed to your side, rubbing your pregnant belly. you had finally popped, and he loved it. he was obsessed with touching your stomach when the baby would move, and you could see how he was getting obsessed with your boobs, now bigger than ever.

only a few days after you officiated your relationship and found out you were pregnant, hamzah soft launched you on his insta by posting a picture of red and blue on your tights. your face couldn't be seen but the "❤️" placed on the story sparked many rumors from the slushy noobz community.

you had told mandy and martin the day after you were supposed to meet up with her, and they were both absolutely speechless. i mean, they learned that hamzah and i hooked up, got pregnant, and then became girlfriend and boyfriend all at once. it was a huge shock for them, but they were insanely happy and were preparing to be the best aunt and uncle ever. the even revealed they secretly wanted you two to date.

furthermore, your boyfriend hard launched you just a few months later by posting your gender reveal party, where you could clearly see "y/n + hamzah = babygirl" written on a huge sign in colorful letters. and followed by the cutest candid of hamzah hugging you. all the slushies went completely crazy. they recognised you from some of mandy's videos and an ooc episode where you had been invited as a guest, but they would've never guessed their bias was not only in a relationship but also having a baby. you totally understood them, though, and posted him frequently, mesmerised by his beauty, just like his fans.

you kinda loved your new found "fame," and hamzah loved how he was able to post videos with you. he loved walking the streets and taking pictures with his fans, making sure to always include you. it felt surreal to live this life that you had dreamed of for years.

your thoughts got interrupted when hamzah gave you a little bag without saying anything, you opened up the package and found two rillakuma plushies. they were adorable, one had the same colour as your hair and the other one as hamzah's. you thanked him, feeling insanely grateful to have such a thoughtful boyfriend. not only did he love gifting you random things, cheap or expensive, he refused to take anything from you, considering that having his baby was already the biggest present you could offer him.

the only disagreement you had was the baby's name, when you found out it was a girl you were both ecstatic but when hamzah started showing you names from his notes you were left a little confused.

him having baby names was adorable but also they were a little ugly. you couldn't let someone with such a stunning name, name his daughter dior dior or october.

but except for that, things couldn't have gone better, hamzah even started reading parenting books, and his tiktok fyp, instead of being filled with brainrot, was full of parenting hacks or diys. even on his podcast, he was obsessed with talking about you and your future daughter. his fans were almost getting bored of it, but he did not care and continued to yap about mini clothes and child games.

you even recorded an ooc podcast with hamzah, so you could clear up how your relationship came to be, obviously not mentioning the fact that this all came from a one night stand but rather telling the slushies that you had both been in love for a while (wich was true, the hook up just sped up the process). the listeners loved you guys, claiming you were "couple goals".

he even started posting on his instagram again, that was now filled with pics of you, always tagging you in every single one.

he was simply obsessed.

[slasherparty]

Hi! Could you Please do Beej with An S/O with PTSD? (Possibly he accidentally scares them with something that Triggers a PTSD Attack?)

i can try my best, for sure! (disclaimer, i don’t have ptsd and have no experience with it outside of discussions with friends who have it, so if anything i write here is an incorrect or harmful portrayal please let me know!)

beetlejuice 🪲 x reader with PTSD 💭

as usual when it comes to beetlejuice, it begins with a joke gone horribly wrong — a flickering illusion of something monstrous. a moment frozen in your eyes, wide with dread, as beetlejuice realizes he’s stumbled upon a memory far more terrifying than his gags could ever conjure.

ever the showman, he tries to apologize in his own bizarre way. maybe it’s with a bouquet of dead flowers plucked from some poor soul's gravestone, or a song sung by a ghostly quartet he's conjured, their harmonies more unsettling than soothing.

determined to avoid making the same mistake, bj starts paying attention — truly paying attention. he listens (a rare feat for him) to your stories, your fears, weaving his manic energy into a solid presence instead of a disruptive force.

to help you feel secure, he transforms your living space into something magical yet oddly comforting. the shadows on the walls stop feeling like threats and start feeling like guardians. they whisper reassuring nonsense, a soft hum of distraction from the noise in your head.

in his own twisted way, he tries to help you reclaim power over your fears. he turns nightmares into comedies, mocking the monsters that haunt you until they’re laughable, grotesque parodies.

for someone who thrives on disorder, beetlejuice attempts the impossible — reining in his instincts. when he wants to pop out of the floorboards or summon swarms of skeletal insects, he pauses, remembers your needs, and opts for a (relatively) gentle knock instead.

beetlejuice becomes fiercely protective. your very own "guard dog of the underworld." when someone or something from your past tries to resurface, he steps in — not subtly, but effectively. a howling wind of curses, spectral barriers, and his disjointed grin scare the intrusions away.

when you’re caught in the spiral of an episode, he’s there, pulling ridiculous faces or juggling severed ghostly heads to coax out a reluctant smile. sometimes it works. sometimes he just sits quietly with you, a presence more comforting than one might expect.

when words fail, bj doesn’t. he wraps his striped arms around you awkwardly, his voice softening as he promises, “I’ll make sure no one — or nothing — hurts you again. Scout’s honor... okay, not a scout, but still.”

therapy, in his mind, is far too dull. (do not listen to him on this.) instead, he tries to pull you on otherworldly journeys to the neitherworld to confront your fears head-on, safely, with him as your guide. each step is riddled with his snarky commentary and oddly heartfelt encouragement.

for someone so used to quick fixes and chaotic solutions, he learns the slow dance of healing. he doesn’t rush you — well, not too much — and sticks around when it matters most, even if it means suppressing his inner urge to turn everything into a spectacle.

thank you for reading!! 💌

you can find more of my writing here on ao3!

[blooddrinkingbartender]

"That's fascinating," Antonio said, "I did do some research on the typical cat Sidhe. Of course, I don't seem to be one. They seem to be drawn to warmth, perhaps because the cold slows them down."

Or in his case, makes him feel tired. He had lost count of how many times he had almost passed on public transport in the Winter just because it got so cold.

"Causing a little mischief is a good sign," Antonio said, "I think it means you're starting to at least feel a little better. I'm just glad we were able to stop fighting among ourselves in the end. We even got to laugh together for a moment."

A moment to relax while nothing was happening to them, so to speak. There was that sympathy in his green eyes.

"Maybe after all of this is over, perhaps we could all just sit down for a meal. I am aware Bill can't seem to eat normal food, but I feel he would still enjoy it for the company," Antonio added, "I will admit, I have missed the idea of it myself. Well, I mainly just enjoyed family dinners when my Nonno was there."

And he couldn't really remember the last time he had a meal with company. It had been that long.

"Then I think that can be arranged. We gather for some meal of sorts. A breakfast, lunch, or a dinner, sometime when this is all over," Antonio said. It would be nice to cook for people again, and actually have company, "What do you reckon?"

He frowned a bit at that. Antonio still had his regrets over letting that thing in his body and acting the way he did.

"To be honest, I have no hard feelings for him. I was angry when he first tried to control me, but he has changed," Antonio said, "And I was not acting in my own best interests when I attacked him in his shop. It does not change the fact that I allowed myself to become corrupted by that force in the first place. I am also glad we can still get along despite what I did."

But then he looked curious.

"Your father? You believe he might have something to do with this? Do you need me to go with you? I know it can be daunting to confront a parent alone, especially if he might be sending people to attack your friends."

"Oh, it's actually the opposite for me. It's like that for all of us, actually. Our powers basically renew every Winter Solstice." Rook explained, "I should start feeling a bit a few days before my birthday."

She was looking forward to that more than usual with everything that was going on. Hopefully, they would figure this mess out before the stress of organizing the celebrations added itself to the rest.

"Well, I couldn't resist." Rook replied with a grin, "And it was the only nice moment of that shitty evening. I think that and this breakfast are the only nice notes in this whole mess...the company too."

Rook's wings twitched at that, betraying her apprehension towards the situation. It was difficult to keep up the brave act while those she cared about were getting hurt or fighting each other.

"I know I miss sitting at the table with others. Mum hangs around sometimes, but she can't eat." She set the phone down once both messages were sent and eagerly dug in. "Well, Lucien wouldn't say no to that. He loves getting spoiled."

She clearly didn't mind either. Rook wasn't lying about having more of an appetite.

"I'm glad you two are getting along, though. There's enough going on with those weirdos who are after us as is... Which brings me to the next suspect on my list."

There was another twitch as Rook looked up.

"It might be a good time to check on my dad."