#Will i continue to draw the same characters over and over again because they bring me joy (Mammon)? ya.

[strawberrycartt]

Thank you for the support 🐏

[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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[dunmeshistash]

Why did Milsiril help with Mithrun's recovery?

Since people seemed to be interested in the post I made about why she adopted Kabru I wanted to write my thoughts about her helping Mithrun too.

I think with Mithrun it gets a little trickier tho, both because Mithrun himself doesn't speak much about his past and because most of it we get from a third party account. I'll also try to discuss based on what I see people say about their relationship although is probably gonna be shorter than Kabru's (came back to say it's not shorter), tw for self-harm because of Mithrun recovery drawings.

1 - So Mithrun could become a canary again

This is the theory I see the most often, probably it's whats on the main story, as far as I'm remembering there's no other mentions of Milsiril related to Mithrun besides the role she plays in sparing his life.

That story isn't reliable tho, Mithrun constantly points out that Kabru is glossing over details and Kabru himself is depicted as cooking (as the kids say) a good story that resonates with an audience.

So we can't really trust that this framing is objectively true

But even so taking just what happened, without the context Kabru added, what she did was spare his life once she realized he still had a hint of desire to exist within him.

Kabru lies (or rather embelishes a lot) when he says "and from that point onward, Mithrun lived only to slay demons. He ate even he had no desire to eat. He lived on even though he had no desire to live." he was useless for 20 years after this so 'saving him cause he will be useful later' isn't really too accurate. Milsiril also wasn't involved with his rehab until Utaya 18~19 years later so it definitely wasn't for this that she helped.

2 - So Mithrun could avenge Utaya by defeating the demon (She winded him up and set him on a path, you know, like a doll)

I think this one is kinda mean, I've seen people speak as if she only helped him after Utaya because she wanted to use him to defeat the demon. But there's no evidence Milsiril even cares about the demon or that she wants vengeance. My girl literally ran away and decided to look away instead of continuing to fight (and I can't blame her)

This, as far as I understand, is based both on the above section and on this part from her adventurer's bible extra

She shows up to visit him and brings up the demon, and then sets him up to go after it, but once again I think it relies on an unkind interpretation of her character; you gotta assume she has unseen ulterior motives already before the comic even starts, since this whole comic is talking about how she completely misinterpreted who Mithrun was when they were in the same squad, and how she feels he's actually someone she would get along with. If you know Milsiril, you know she only gets along with other misfits, she's acknowledging Mithrun as someone who was broken like her even before his desires were eaten.

This is the complete comic

"I always hated you. You were beautiful and perfect, and everybody loved you. You didn't seem to have a single worry or flaw.

But when I saw the dungeon you'd built, I was startled. It was such a warped, convoluted place built from inferiority, jealousy, lies and anger.

I wish I'd tried really talking to you. We might have hit off pretty well. Too late now, I guess"

She acknowledges him as a human being, when before she only saw him as the embodiment of the people that bullied her. And right after that she talks about the demon. There's no indication for a wish of vengeance anywhere in this comic, I'd even say the demon and the dungeons are barely important to what Milsiril is thinking, there's only belated compassion.

3 - Cause he was a new "project"

Related to the reasons pointed out in my Kabru post, people assume Milsiril is the type of person that wants/needs to feel superior to someone, or to put on an altruistic front or what have you. And that interpretation also leaks into how they see her helping Mithrun. I said the main reasons why I don't think she's that type of person on the other post so I wont repeat. But I don't think Mithrun is a "project" at all.

This was right after she fought on Utaya, I imagine a little after or a little before she took in Kabru, so she "had a project" already if you're gonna go with that wording. She was also finally free from the canaries and she had no obligation towards Mithrun. She also only went back to him decades after she spared his life, my assumption is that she did it because she finally could. She couldn't have guessed when she spared his life that 19 years later she would be free from the canaries and that Mithrun still wouldn't have been recovered and would have been needing her.

4 - And finally, why did she spare his life? Why did she help him recover?

This one isn't as straight foward as Kabru's adoption to me. I imagine the fact he had the potential to still be useful could be one of the reasons she spared Mithrun at first, but I also think that he newfound empathy she developed for him when she saw his dungeon might have been part of it, that seeing he still had some sort of drive and desire made her have hope he could still live.

Milsiril really seems like the type of person that likes to nurture, while I wouldn't say this makes her a "softie" and not able to execute him (I'm sure she could do a mercy kill) I think that soft side made her want to give him a chance. There's no proof for any of that ofc, and Kui confirmed in a QnA Mithrun wasn't arrested or executed because they were desperate for people to be in the canaries. (The choice probably wasn't only on her)

Now why she helped him? I think it's because she saw he could be helped.

She says herself she's only visiting, probably to check on him

"They said you've fully recovered but you might as well be a corpse." so by this point I think his body has recovered and he has managed to stabilize? But as this extra from the daydream hour shows he needed 24/7 care to stay alive in those first 18 years

Like she said he might as well be a corpse, he'd be in bed all day and have servants keeping him from dying, he would have fits where he would harm himself, he had no way to go on. It even says that even things that could remind him of his time as dungeon lord weren't allowed so he was probably being kept away from demon mentions (after all I doubt servants even knew about a demon)

But then when she mentions the demon he immediately gets up

She's surprised so I don't think she expected that, and she goes and uses that reaction to help him "Then first eat this. If you finish it all I'll take you to a dungeon again"

Rather than using him to fight the demon I think she's using the demon to help him live. Here's what his bio says

"After Mithrun was recused from the dungeon, he spent a while on the verge of death. However, with time and rehabilitation he gradually became able to lead a normal life again. The Utaya incident was the event that roused him. He thought, 'If I'd been there, I know I could have dealt with the demon somehow' and he resolved to return to active duty. (...)"

So it worked, Milsiril might have been there to help with his rehab but it was the Utaya situation that finally was able to motivate him to find a way to live and rejoin the canaries, so I think rather than setting him up to kill she realized it could be used to help him.

Which isn't a perfect solution, as you might know by the ending, his fate was to die either way: either he would die trying to kill the demon or he would defeat it and die because he had nothing else to live for.

But it was what Milsiril could do for him at that moment and it was how she managed to help him go forwards.

And that's my thoughts about Milsiril and Mithrun, I don't think they as big in each other's lives in canon as some people assume, there's barely a mention of Milsiril on his profile and she's barely named in his backstory. But they were both people that left a mark on each other's existence if only for a short time.

But I don't think Milsiril was just doing charity when helping Mithrun either, I imagine she did it because she saw herself in past Mithrun, and wanted to help him because of it.

Also side note, this extra:

That's past Mithrun saying she has ulterior motives, he isn't reliable and thinks badly of everyone. So ofc he thinks gloomy Milsiril is suspicious for helping, him doesn't mean it's true

Disclaimer again I'm a Milsiril stan so I'm very charitable in my interpretations of her, but hopefully you can see there's no indication she is someone who would use a sick person for revenge with the sources I've attached.

[pyeonghongrie]

Anything You Could Do, I Could Do Better!

Summary: You and your academic rival do what academic rivals do, trying to one-up each other in grades. But the thing is, both of you are teachers.

Characters/Pairing(s): Hongjoong X Reader

Genre: humor

AUs/Trope info: Reverse Academic Rivals,

Word Count: 500+

Warnings: none??????

Rating: 16+

A/N: for @cultofdionysusnet's reverse trope event! Thank you to @kwanisms for helping with this!!!

It’s a new school year, which means, it's a new opportunity to crush your rival, Kim Hongjoong, in a battle of wits. 

You see, that would’ve been much more appropriate if both of you weren’t high school teachers. And if you both weren’t vicariously continuing this feud through which class could get a higher grade point average.

"My God, Hongjoong! You’re delusional if you think your class is going to get the higher GPA this quarter! It’s impossible,” you yell at him from across the faculty parking lot, your anger reaching a boiling point after he provoked you with yet another bet for this school year. “You suck at teaching and everyone knows it!”

“Oh, get over yourself,” he yells back, slamming the door of his car shut. “You’re just salty that my students love my class while they drone over your miserable little classroom that feels more like a prison cell,” he continues, power-walking in your direction. “You won’t even let them bring snacks, you Karen!”

“Oh, please!” you retort, rolling your eyes. “The only reason they like you is because you let them slack off! And Besides,” you continue, narrowing your eyes as he draws closer. “My classroom has these fuck ass linoleum floors that basically adheres food crumbs to it. I don’t want my room to have rats, especially if they look like you.”

He gasps, dramatically so, one hand over his gaped mouth and the other over his chest. “This has to constitute a hate crime, this is rodent discrimination. Everyone knows I’m a squirrel.”

You roll your eyes, “Save the ‘woe is me’ cries for someone who cares, Kim. I’ll see you after this quarter when my class destroys yours!”

Hongjoong’s class was, in fact, not destroyed by yours.

The final results came in and in fact, both your classes had the same GPA down to the decimal point.

Of course, from that confrontation, the both of you stormed over to the guidance counselor, demanding a recount, or at least a reason for this “impossible” tie.

“This is ridiculous!” You said, slapping the flimsy piece of paper over her desk, “There is no way that this guy’s class got the same GPA as mine!”

Hongjoong scoffs, “You act like we weren’t in the same education classes in college. You’re no better off than I am.”

“Well,” The counselor started, “Both of you were being really annoying about this feud, it was funny at first, but both of you need to get over this. You’re adults, not only that, you’re responsible for the education of the future professionals of this country. I’d expect both of you to prioritize the students’ education over this silly competition.”

The counselor clears her throat, “Enough,” she said as she stood up from her chair, “There is no mistake in the transcripts. Both of your classes scored the exact same, down to the decimal.”

Both of you look at each other. “But, how is that possible?” Hongjoong asked, just as confused as you were.

Both of you lower your head in shame.

“Now, this feud ends today. No more trying to live your rivalry through these kids.” She sits down again, waving both of you off.

You stand in front of the door to the driver’s side of your car, as did Hongjoong. With a silent agreement to end this rivalry, and call for peace.

Which only lasted until the next school year, much to the chagrin of everyone else.

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

Oh and @duskdog thank you for ur fantastic tags on my other post it got me thinking about Bruce’s uniquely fucked up relationship with Tim and Stephanie, and Tim and Steph’s twin roles they play with how they vie for approval, and how Steph’s firing sort of starts setting up the stakes for her later actions, and I feel like a lot of those ideas actually start to come up in Robin #120. So I’m going to just ramble abt that now I guess.

Like, for one, we’re directed in multiple ways to compare Robin #120 and Steph’s firing in Gotham Knights #37.

Both Tim and Steph tell batman to “go to hell” in an almost identical speech bubble, the last thing Tim says while comforting Steph is “I know”, the exact same line Steph says last when she comforts Tim, and of course the fact that Steph herself brings up the similarity in situation directly.

Tim backstabs Steph for Bruce’s approval all the while asserting independence in Robin 106, and I feel like Robin #120 is almost a showcase of how his failure to follow through on his claims of independence bites him in the ass. (Maybe a little irony there. Maybe a little karma perhaps)

Tim does the same assertion of independence —> immediately concession thing when he tells Bruce he’s done and basically quits being Robin, only to change his mind completely and awkwardly continue on as Robin as if nothing had happened.

Tim basically proves again where his priorities lie: even its his turn to be the target of the most recent round of the Bruce Wayne’s Mind Games Wheel, he still comes back, he still fails to follow through.

Like, it sets a standard. Steph’s her own person, and I’m not trying to discredit her ability to think for herself here at all, but I think Tim’s choice to forsake his hurt over Batman’s mind game test and go back to Bruce sets a precedent. That this is just acceptable behavior if you want to be on Batman’s team. All I’m saying is this situation probably played some role in Steph’s willingness to pick up the Robin mantle despite her rocky history with Bruce. Steph herself is able to make this clear the connection between her own firing and Tim’s birthday gaslighting, and ergo, if Tim finds that behavior acceptable, if Tim can forgive and forget, if it doesn’t really matter, if Tim can move past it, then Steph should be able to do so too. It’s just part of working with Batman. I feel like that might set the stage for Stephanie’s ability to work under Batman again.

Probably a small factor, if one at all. And certainly not Tims fault really. But interesting to think about!

Additionally, I find the framing of roles so intriguing in Robin #120. Having Tim and Steph completely switch roles, (tricked by Batman becomes comforter, comforter becomes tricked by Batman) with all the corresponding dialogue switching with them (“I know”/“go to hell”) it kinda paints a grim picture.

Like on one hand, it’s nice that they have each other, and it’s horrible that they’re both so easily thrown from victim to comforter because the same man cannot and will not stop playing mind games with these teenagers.

And this moment is especially cool given how Tim and Stephanie are characters who are often shown in contrast to one another. They are contrasted in personality, contrasted in morality, contrasted in relationships with other characters, etc. something established both in Robin 1993 and also I feel picked up on in the fan sphere.

And for once, in Robin #120, they are not really being contrasted so much as directly compared to one another. They say the same words. They fit the same roles. They both are dealing with this same shitty Bat. They’re almost interexchangable, with how aligned their words and feelings seem to be.

But on the other hand, for me at least, Robin #120 also kinda really draws out the differences in the roles they are playing.

In GK37, Tims role as the comforter is perverted by the knowledge he has (and had) which Stephanie does not (and did not). He facilitated (unintentionally or not) the encounter Batman and Steph have. He chose to keep her in the dark, and he chose to lie to her. Of course, who knows what would have happened if Tim had warned Steph on his own, or even if he just hadn’t lied to Steph, their encounter could have very well gone the same way.

But regardless of that, Tim’s role is still not really pure. It’s a shitty situation for Tim to be in, sure, but his ability to comfort Steph is tainted by how he maintains the illusion that he had no clue this was going to happen to Steph, instead of the truth: he had clear advance warning.

And then in Robin #120, the tables are turned.

Now. I’m not really saying this was karma for him lying to Steph. But I’m also not not saying that.

But, I mean, Steph is comforting him, commiserating with his pain and mentioning her own shitty similar experiences and Tim Drake just sits there, seemingly trying to change the subject and ignoring entirely the (albeit unintentional) role he played in that particular mind game.

He should feel a little shitty about that, and I’m not sorry for saying it. He should feel guilty in that moment.

Almost certainly not Lewis’s intention, by the way, but I’ll read into whatever. I will say that no matter what, the parallels between GK37 and Robin #120 and definitely there, and I assume there for a reason.

[canonically47]

i cannot ever get over gi-hun actually. the fact that he chooses to believe in the good of humanity even after witnessing what he has, and that he joins the games AGAIN with (mathematically) even LESS chances of survival JUST because he wants to save people, people who DON'T CARE, people who are SELFISH and who continuously betray and hurt him just fucking KILLS ME. a very big critique from many people (and i've noticed, especially men) about the second season and gi-hun's character is that he is stupid. they find him to be stupid that he has this weak spot for an uncaring crowd, that he comes back to the games to save people who wouldn't think of him twice, instead of going to his daughter. they think that him caring and despising a system this deeply is a sign of weakness and stupidity.

but if anything, i find it admirable. maybe i can't bring myself to hate him because i think i'd do the same thing. i watch him on-screen and think, "yeah, i would do that too", every single mistake, every single thing, i get him. and he may look stupid to some but i think if anything, he's just too caught up in an ideal world in which people care, but i find it admirable that this is his personality even after witnessing the previous games. he still has hope, they haven't wiped it away from him. comparing him to in-ho is like night and day, because in-ho was broken by the games and came back to perpetuate that same hurtful system, while gi-hun was broken by the games and came back to break the people that created the system, and the system itself.

he speaks to me, as an individual who clings to hope until his very last breath, who can never seem to learn from his mistakes because he is so stubborn, he wants to prove that humanity could, and should, have hope and that it's worth to fight for it, not to just leave for a different continent and forget about it. that's what draws me to him, this endless fight in him, i can't find him stupid because he's so desperate to change things. and he never gives up even after his friends die before him.

idk i just am really unwell about gi-hun. i think people treat him too harshly. i'm unsure how well this is worded, but what i really want to say is that i don't think he should be perfect and immediately learn from every single mistake he has ever made. the fact that he is this broken given his past, even before the games he's set up as this really caring and traumatized individual, and that they double down on his same characteristics that make him so incredibly real... he's just really special to me. i really admire the way he is written and i think he's a really good representation of people who fight for a change even when it all seems lost. he's just that kind of guy that doesn't, couldn't, will never give up. and i really love that.

[silvergarnet12]

Splatoon was the first Nintendo game to push me out of my comfort zone of single player games, and with the closure of it's servers I wanted to draw a tribute to a game that really means a lot to me.

Some long rambles about the game under the cut.

When I first played the Global Testfire I was 15, and the only mutliplayer games I played were with friends in the same room.

Splatoon was also the first shooter I ever picked up, as I always liked bright colours over more realistic graphics in my games, and back then the only shooters I knew about were Halo(and that was only really a name to me!) and the CoD games.

Any worries I had about being bad quickly vanished as the sheer vibe of chaotic fun the game had, particularly when no one had played it before, got rid of any worries, and all I remember is having fun. And choosing to play as the guy instead of the girl for the first time, solely becuase I wanted a ponytail like in real life(I would continue to use the guy through the series as a tradition, a contrast to what I saw most people online doing).

When the game came out I binged the single player, and vividly remember the first time I fought DJ Octavio, and the first time I heard Calamari Inkantation. If ever a game was to convince me that a song could irreversibly change your life, it was Splatoon. Because to teenage me, in that moment, with Calamari Inkantation playing in the background while I fought an octupus DJ, it did.

It gave me terminal brainworms for this series. And here I am, 8 yrs later. Older and more tired, been through some shit, had some good times, tried, succeeded and failed in things throughout the years.

I've always been grateful that they made the decision for the player character from 1 to return, everytime they've shown up it's felt a bit like seeing an old friend, especially since as the games time skips have always had them close to my age(which probably helped my attachement back in the first game). So hi Three, can't believe we both probably pay taxes now.

I have the original two Inkling Amiibos, in a collection that is slowly building, I'm still attached to Marie, and yes I was on her team for the Final Splatfest.

I cried when it was over, just like I did in 2's Final Fest(I was team chaos, two for two baby!) and will probably do so for 3's as well. Something about this series just makes me super attached to it's world and characters.

So booyah Splatoon, my final online game of yours was well and truly years ago, but I replayed story mode to share you with a friend recently, and I think I'll refight Octavio tonight in honour of the good times.

You encouraged me to try out games I wouldn't have otherwise(hello Overwatch and Deep Rock Galactic), and outlasted one of the other major games of my teenage years(...Overwatch 1 I miss you). So thank you for that.

I'll miss Squid Jump, Inkstrike, the og kit for the NZap 89(why does it's new one not vibe with me ;-;), the Squid Sister's broadcasts and the more saturated colours. At least I can always return to the Plaza in 3, and that Spyke isn't dead like I was concerned he was when 3 released, and see the Squid Sisters perform during Splatfests again.

I have so much more to say in my heart about you but no more ways to word it.

You've been a fantastic game, and will always be a treasured experience that I am grateful to have been a apart of from the very beginning.

Now bring back Moray Towers in 3 damn it! It's in 2 but I DON'T WANT TO LOSE MY FAVOURITE STAGE IF IT"S NOT IN 4.

[echonidae]

✦ COMMISSIONS REOPENING on monday, December 2nd!! ✦

hello there!! i'm a good deal late again (i miscalculated how much time it'd take to get everything ready for this new batch orz), but, i bring news of a new commission batch, scheduled for monday, December 2nd!!

i have a bunch of things to report, which you can read under the read-more (or over on [deviantArt!]) but yes, the important bits:

all commission types available!! regular orders: 12 slots total (3 active, 9 in queue) doodle orders: no limit so long as it's open!! (6 active slots!) pagedoll orders: also no limit!! (2 active slots!) the queue(s) will remain open indefinitely the waitlist for the next batch is unavailable until further notice ✦ digital medium only! the commissioned pieces are all .png files; no physical items will be shipped. ✦ for regular orders, max of 2 SLOTS per person; i'll be working on multiple orders one at a time (the second order will be moved into the queue) ✦ waiting period is 2 months at most! i tend to work fairly fast, and i'll keep you updated throughout the whole process!

here's a link to the commission info website!!

more info on the upcoming commissions + new stuff under the read-more!!

so!! >:3c

a new commission option!! we'ge got pagedolls now!! :"D

they're lil' stylized full-body portraits with transparent backgrounds, clean lineart and flatcolors :'3c i just posted the examples separately, you can check them out [here]!! they have their own queue, like doodles, but function the same as regular orders in terms of feedback and client updates– the different queue is just because pagedolls are faster to complete, and therefore it'd be nice if they didn't take regular-order-slots instead :')c no limit of orders per person, but i will be working on those 2 at a time c':

speaking of full-body, from here on all commission options offer full-body portraits, replacing knee-up!! i feel more confident with my art now to tackle full-body stuff :') with this, i went and changed the nomenclature of shoulder/waist/knee-up to just bust/half-body/full-body, which i reckon better suits how i tend to go about where to cut off portraits (uh... ribcage/mid-thigh/mid-calf-up x"Dc)

portraits can now have up to two characters!! slooowly climbing towards just having multiple extra characters x'Dc but for now, just the two!! prices vary depending on how much of the second character is visible (plus an extra fee if the 2nd character is Very Very Intricate design-wise). more on this below, and on the [website] too :')c

that said, familiars / pets / companions don't count as extra characters!! they have their own stipulations, also described below!!

this time i'll be (once again) working on a reduced amount of slots for regular orders (doodles and pagedolls exempt!), in an effort to finish things up in a more timely manner by focusing on a smaller amount of orders, and to then open new batches more often (since the last one was over a year ago). this time around, there will be a total of 12 slots for regular orders: 3 active slots that i'll be getting started on right away on monday, and then another 9 waiting in queue c: again, no deadline for those!!

since it's a small number of slots, regular orders slots are limited to two per person!! so that folks have a good chance of getting a slot :')c and given how it's just 3 active slots, i'll be working on multiple orders one at a time c':

doodles and pagedolls do not have those limits, and i'll just go about finishing them up as i can c: six doodles at a time, and two pagedolls at a time as well, but their respective queues have no slot limit, and folks can order as many as they want at once :3c

in a different note, over the course of the year, i've gone from using Paint Tool SAI to drawing and painting on Rebelle 7 instead, and have since acclimated well enough to continue commission work with no issue– i can now send the finalized files at better resolution too :"Dc yey nanopixel :3c

which reminds me, icons are now sized 1000px square insted of 800px!! minor change but still noteworthy x')c

lastly, cases in which no sketch presented is suitable, and no amount of editing said sketch can help its approval and the client would rather a new sketch be made, i can do so for a flat fee of 35% of the original order's price– this does not impact choosing between sketches and such, or my tendency towards working on more than one sketch for orders, or if the client has presented multiple sketch ideas for the same order :')c the modifications, big and small, of the sketch phase remain entirely part of the process and free of charge!! this is just in case an entirely new sketch is necessary, since the sketch portion of the process is usually the more complicated and time-consuming bit of the commission c': so, edge case, but it's a new thing added in and i want to make mention of it!!

other than that, prices have been updated, and there's been minor edits in wording for the sake of clarity in the terms on the [website], on the forms, and the descriptions of the options and extras c': i've also, as you may have noticed, updated all the examples on the info sheet and on the website to be past commissions!! some of which i have yet to post (orz on my way!!! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ), but that you can see as well over on the commission-info-place :')c

and that's it for all the new stuff!! :'D

thank you so much again to everyone who ordered last batch (i'm so happy folks like the doodles so much, for one!! they've been a heckin' blast to work on, thank you all again!!), and everyone who reached out and sent messages and stopped by the commission-info-website for orders or to just say hi, i appreciate it tons :')c i'm looking forward to this new batch!! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

thank you again, and i wish everyone a dang nice day!! :"D i'll be posting until then, but cya monday!!

[moonflvver]

Gojo Satoru! Btw can you make another gojo fluff? I enjoy your work a lot tho!! Have a great day!! <3

characters: Gojo x reader

warnings: very fluffy stuff, gojo doubts himself for like two seconds but it gets resolved.

synopsis: Gojo likes waking up beside you in the morning.

a/n: I'm so glad that you like my work! Sorry for the late response but in honor of the new season of jjk here's some gojo fluff <3

w/c: 711

Early mornings with Gojo are truly a gift. Sunlight is pouring in through the white curtains in his room as you nuzzle your face into his chest. There’s a light breeze coming in through the windows and it feels as though the two of you are suspended in time for just a moment. Gojo always wakes up before you do and for those few minutes before you start to stir he gazes at your face, hoping to memorize every feature. His eyes run over every curve and dip across the plane of your body, drinking it all in. Right now he’s silently thanking whatever force of fate or mystical being it was that brought the two of you together. He knows that he can be a lot and maybe in the back of his mind he also knows that you deserve better than him. You deserve someone who isn’t constantly away from home, going on yet another mission. Leaving in the middle of the night in order to fulfill the requests of the higher ups.

An inadvertent sigh leaves his lips as his mind continues to rotate the idea that maybe you would be better off without him. And then your eyes start to blink open, and now you’re looking up at him with a smile, and just the sight of you makes his anxiety disappear. He grins at you and says “What are you smiling about?” You sit up next to him and rest your head on his shoulder before you say, “I just like seeing you first thing in the morning, it's nice.” You pause for a moment and then continue quietly, “I think that if I got to wake up with you like this for the rest of my life, I- I’d be okay with that.” You’re not quite sure what it was that made you say that and he’s silent beside you after you speak, and now you’re regretting saying anything at all. Your hands start to nervously play with the sheets, scrunching them up beside you as you look down.

And you know that he’s not one for commitment but you’d hoped that things were different because it was you. And while you’re trying to think of a way to take back what you’ve just said Gojo feels like his heart is going to explode at the thought of being able to wake up next to you for the rest of his life. He laces his fingers in yours, pulling your hand away from the sheets and then he starts drawing circles on your palm with his thumb and he gazes over at you with the most lovesick expression that you’ve ever seen on his face. His eyes are full of desperation, you’re not sure what it’s for exactly but you have a feeling that it has something to do with you.

Any regret you might’ve had dissipates instantly. He just looks at you for a brief moment and then he brings his other hand up to your cheek and of course you lean into his touch. “I want to stay like this…by your side.” He says, and he feels fear blooming in his chest because Gojo doesn’t rely on others, he doesn’t need them. At least that’s what he tells himself. But with you it’s different. He wants to rely on you, and despite the fact that this is new to him he knows that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep things like this for as long as possible.

He takes a second before speaking again and then he continues, “I’ll stay by your side, I’ll wake up next to you for as long as you’ll have me.” You smile up at him again, giving him that same expression that kills him every time. And honestly, he thinks that not even an eternity of waking up next to you would allow him to memorize every single one of your features but he thinks that he’d like to try. So he grips your hand a little tighter and the two of you bask in the moment of time that you’ve somehow managed to capture, free of the outside world. Just you and him waking up next to each other for what you hope is forever. 

[kwillow]

I alluded to this fact in a previous question about Theo's preferences for companions: it really depends.

Read more because this got long... tl;dr: IT WOULD REQUIRE A LOT OF SQUEEZIN' AND THE JUICE WOULDN'T BE WORTH IT TO ANYONE IN-UNIVERSE WHO WOULD HAVE TO DEAL WITH HIM EVERY DAY.

Someone could exist who could, in theory, get along with him perfectly and be his ideal man/woman (which again, he doesn't even really know what that would be, so he wouldn't know it when he saw it), and they could start off on the wrong foot with him, set off a tantrum spiral and never recover his esteem for the rest of his life.

Even if someone who could be compatible with him was able to pick their way through the bear traps of his mind and get close to him, that doesn't necessarily mean anything would come of it. He can get infatuated easily, experience flickers of attraction - but he would much rather ignore those feelings than act on them in any way beyond just trying to be a good and loyal friend and benefactor.

And then, even if someone got close to him, and he was infatuated with them AND recognized those emotions for what they are (a big ask in and of itself), he STILL would not want to enter a romance because that would change the nature of the relationship, he doesn't know what to do in a relationship, and he wouldn't want to entrap someone in a relationship with him (Gods, the horror) or suffer the travails and indignities of romance because all his experiences tell him that eros is a corrupting force and always ends really, really badly.

So one could ask him to start a relationship, and the absolute best result would probably be a polite and firm decline with some blathering about the nobility of "unrequited courtly devotion," with the more typical result being a meltdown.

Effectively, one would have to stay close to him for actual years in close proximity without leaving for greener pastures than him (which one should) and maybe, maaaaaybe if the right mental dominos fall he could conceivably think of entering a relationship. Except in Amaranthine, he'd only want to do that with a childbearing woman because he feels he needs to have children to continue his withered, hollow excuse of a family tree. AND THAT WOULD START A WHOLE OTHER SAGA. ALL THAT ABOVE WAS JUST GETTING TO FIRST BASE, LET'S NOT EVEN GET INTO WHAT IT'D TAKE TO GET ALL THE WAY TO FOURTH. Anyone not able to produce more Norths would have a whole 'nother endurance test to slog through to work through his issues about debt to his family and legacy and all that nonsense. And would either path be worth it to someone? Performing years worth of informal therapy (not real therapy, he hates doctors!) on a messed-up guy just to get him to maybe agree to go out with you? Probably not!

To bring it back to the beginning, despite all I've written here, it all depends. I don't think I can write a rulebook or point-by-point guide for "how to get Theo to agree to date another imaginary person" because in the end, he is a fictional character and he is more beholden to what would be interesting for my partner and I to write and draw versus anything else. And it would depend on the setting, the characters involved, the circumstances that befall them, myriad little factors that could influence what feels natural for him to do. Maybe there could be an interesting story we come up with where he falls irrationally head-over-heels for someone and proposes the same day. He could also spurn all companionship and focus his attention on other pursuits.

So... if anyone is expecting any sweet blossoming love stories to come to fruition within Theo’s story in Amaranthine… the odds aren't good. I don’t have much interest in writing “romance” as a genre, only incredibly dysfunctional relationships as a vehicle to cause strife and comedy in fucked-up weirdos' lives.

[vanfleeter]

Conjure: Chapter 4

Characters: Jake Kiszka, Josh Kiszka, Sam Kiszka, Maggie Warnings: 18+ || Paranormal. Ghosts. Spells. Conjuring. Angst. Anger. Grief. Yelling. Swearing. Drunkenness. Fluff. Friendly banter. A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

“Jake, I really don’t want to be here,” Sam says as he stands outside the gate of the cemetery.

“Sam, you haven’t been here since the funeral,” Jake says as he pushes open the gate.

“For good reason..” Sam grumbles.

Jake sighs and rolls his eyes. “Stop it..” He grabs Sam by the elbow and pulls him past the gate. “Now come on, I bet he’s waiting for you.”

Sam rolls his eyes and continues to follow Jake through the cemetery. “You and your voodoo shit is really getting annoying.”

Jake scoffs and turns backwards to face Sam as he continues to walk. “It’s not voodoo..”

“Oh?” Sam digs into the bag he was assigned to carry and produces the same pumpkin and sage candle. “Then why do you have this?”

“It’s just a candle.”

“That’s not what Maggie said,” Sam says as he twists the candle in his hand. “She said you had been using it to conjure up Josh’s spirit.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jake snatches the candle out of Sam’s hand and sets it on top of Josh’s tombstone. “It smells good.”

‘You need to get your nose worked on again, brother,’ Josh says as he walks up beside Sam. ‘Candle smells like shit.’

Sam shakes his head and sits down on the ground. “So how exactly is this supposed to “help” me?” He says as Jake lights the candle and goes to sit on the ground as well.

“It allows you to begin the healing process.”

“You’re one to talk.” Sam grumbles.

Jake cocks his head to the side and gives Sam a disapproving look. “Feeling completely healed doesn’t happen overnight, Samuel. It takes time.”

“It’s been four years, Jake,” Sam sighs. “If it hasn’t already happened, I fear it will never happen.”

“That’s because you haven’t tried.”

Josh lowers himself to the ground and sits cross legged in front of Sam. ‘Come on Sam.. Please talk to me.. Tell me how you feel, please. I know you feel guilty and you shouldn’t.. I just wish you could hear me tell you that.’

Sam shakes his head and he lowers his chin. “I don’t know, Jake.. I haven’t been back here in four years for a reason.. I can’t face it.”

“You already are,” Jake says. “Just because you can’t see him or hear him, doesn’t mean he can’t.”

Sam leans his elbows on his crossed legs and rests his chin in his hand. He stayed quiet for a while, drawing circles into the grass in front of him. Jake let him take his time, so he turned to face the sunset. It wasn’t long before Sam was standing to his feet and taking the bottle of tequila out of the bag. But instead of twisting the cap off and pouring a shot, he slings the bottle at the tombstone. Jake jumps at the sound of the glass bottle shattering against the stone.

“Fuck you!” Sam shouts. “How could you have been so stupid?! Why did you have to be such a show off?! For once in your life you could have just not entertained people! Just once! You would still be here if you weren’t clowning around!”

‘There you go, Sammy.’ Josh says as he watches Sam take out his anger. ‘Let me hear it.’

Jake had fully turned his body around on the ground so he was facing Sam and all of his anger on display. “So fucking stupid, Josh, and I still so fucking angry with you! You ruined everything! My life, the band! The only good thing that I had managed to create is a baby! A baby that won’t grow up with you around! It feels so wrong bringing another life into this world after losing one–a vital one..” Tears fell down Sam’s cheeks and he fell to his knees in front of the stone. “I should hate you.. I really should.. But I can’t..”

Jake moves closer to Sam and wraps his arms around him. Sam turns his body into Jake’s, his cries taking over his body.

“I miss him, Jake..” Sam cries over his shoulder.

“I know you do,” Jake says as holds him tighter. “Believe me, I do.”

Hearing a knock at her door, Maggie gets up from the couch and goes over to answer it. Pulling open the door she’s surprised when she sees Jake standing out in the hallway. His head is lowered, his hair covering his face. He sniffles and looks up at her, his eyes red and puffy. She doesn’t say a word, instead she pulls him inside her apartment.

Waking up the next morning, his head pounding, and his body shivering, Jake peels his eyes open and finds himself alone in the bed with the covers strewn all over exposing his half naked self to the chilled air. Grabbing the covers, he drags them back over his body but pauses when he hears humming coming from Maggie’s kitchen. It was sweet and soothing and he wanted to hear more of it.

So he climbs out of bed and throws his shirt back on before quietly making his way down the hallway and to the kitchen. He can smell the scent of lavender making him feel more at ease. Peering around the wall of the kitchen, he finds Maggie seated at the island counter with a book open in front of her. She smiles and looks up at him.

“Good morning,” She says. “How’re you feeling?”

“A little better,” He says as he walks over to stand behind her. “Thank you for letting me cry in your bed.”

Maggie giggles and turns her head to look over her shoulder. “My bed is your bed.”

He chuckles and kisses her cheek. “Then why don’t you come back to it?” He says as he begins to sway their bodies back and forth.

“I would love to, but I have been doing some research.” She says. “I think I may have found something that could help us, but it’s going to take a lot of practice.”

“A lot?” Jake questions. “How much is a lot?”

“It involves a lot of breathing exercises and getting our bodies in tune with the spirit world.”

“So in other words… Yoga.”

“Yeah pretty much,” She says as she closes the book.

“Looks like a kid’s spellbook.”

Maggie giggles and takes a drink of her coffee. “I know nothing about what the book contains or how it may or may not work.”

“Where’d you even find it?”

“Some lady in Oregon who claims to be a witch.”

“Doesn’t sound sketchy in the slightest.” Jake chuckles.

“It’s worth a shot,” Maggie says. “Probably will do something more than that dinky pumpkin and sage candle.”

“Excuse you.. My candle is–” Maggie raises her eyebrows. “My candle is horrible..” Jake sighs. “I guess we can try this.”

“Well we have at least twelve months to perfect this,” Maggie says before sliding off the bar stool. “Sam’s welcome to join too.”

Jake shakes his head. “I don’t think so..”

“Sam is just as distraught as you are, if not more.. Maybe this could be his chance to have the closure he needs to make peace with the past.”

“He’ll think we’re insane.”

Maggie wraps her arms around his body. “Just casually mention it to gauge his opinion.”

“And how exactly do I tell him casually? ‘Hey Maggie and I have a plan to bring Josh back from the dead for a day, want to join?’.”

“Well not like that,” She laughs.

“Then how does one bring that up?”

–A Few Weeks Later–

Sam twirls his fork in the spaghetti on his plate as he stares at Jake. “So let me get this straight.. You want to conjure up Josh’s spirit for twenty four hours?”

“I know it sounds crazy–”

“Crazy?” Sam scoffs.

“--But it would give us closure..”

“This is absolutely deranged..” Sam tosses his fork down on the plate and stands up from his chair. “You want me to participate in some seance to bring our dead brother back from the dead just to have some closure? Jake, you have absolutely lost your mind.”

“Sam, listen–”

“No! You’re delusional thinking something like this can happen! He’s dead, Jake!”

“I know he is..” Jake mumbles as he slouches in his chair.

“Then leave it be,” Sam says. “Let him fucking be at peace wherever his goddamn spirit is..”

“What if he isn’t at peace, Sam? What if he’s struggling like we are? What if he needs that closure too?”

“Jake.. Josh is dead.” He grabs his coat off the back of his chair and slips it on. “But if you and Maggie want to go through with this freaky voodoo shit, then go for it.. I want no part in it.”

Jake huffs and drops his head as Sam storms out of the house, the door slamming shut behind him. Jake leans forward onto the table and rests his chin in his hands. Josh appears beside him and sighs. ‘That went well..’ He mutters. ‘Give him time, he’ll come around.’

“Maybe I am deranged..” Jake says to himself as he stands up from his chair and gathers the plates and carries them to the sink. He scoffs and turns on the faucet before running the garbage disposal. After letting it run for a few seconds, he shuts off the disposal and rinses off the plates before putting them in the dishwasher. “But if I’m deranged then I guess I could ask you to pour me a shot?”

Josh chuckles and gets up from the table. ‘Just because I figured out how to make coffee doesn’t mean you can abuse my abilities for your own drunken gain.’

Jake smiles before he starts laughing. “Come on Joshy, help your little brother out.”

‘So not happening, Jakey.’

Jake sighs and rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’ll get it myself..”

‘I think you’ve had enough to drink already.’

He follows Jake into the living room where he starts to pour himself a shot of whiskey. “Maybe I have lost my mind.. Grief can make you do funny things..”

‘Like getting blackout drunk like you’ve been doing since I died?’

“Alcohol eases the pain, Joshy..” Jake throws back the shot before pouring more. “And silly me for wanting to involve Sam, huh?”

‘Jake, stop..’

Jake downs the next shot before setting the empty glass down and grabbing the bottle instead. He goes over to the couch and flops down on it. “Sorry, Sam, I just wanted to give you some closure too.” He scoffs and lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a long drag of it. “You probably think I’m crazy too.”

‘You’re still grieving, Jake.’

“Fuck it.. Maybe I’ll get lucky tonight..”

Josh watches as Jake begins to light a few candles and lays them out in a circle on the hardwood floor. Closing his eyes, he begins to clear his mind of everything and focuses on his breathing. He needs to find peace and tranquility and Josh.

‘This could be interesting.’ Josh says as he relaxes back on the couch and crosses his legs over one another on the coffee table.

“Cinis in cinerem pulvis ad pulvis,” Jake begins to chant. “Eadem pellis participes sumus. Nos eiusdem sanguinis participes.”

‘O-o-o, fancy. Speaking all in Latin.’ Josh chuckles. ‘No idea what you’re saying.’

“Cinis in cinerem pulvis ad pulvis.. Eadem pellis participes sumus. Nos eiusdem sanguinis participes.”

Jake goes on for another hour, repeating the incantation over and over again as he focuses on his breathing.

‘Well, I’m getting bored, I’m going to lay out on your bed.’ Josh stands up from the couch and leaves the living room and Jake to his own devices.

Hours have passed and Jake is finally growing exhausted. The candles were near spent, wax drying on the floor. Blowing out the candles, Jake picks them up and sets them back on the mantelpiece before going to grab a butter knife to gently scrape the melted wax off of the hardwood floors. Once everything is cleaned up, he makes sure the house is locked up before going upstairs.

‘You finally finished.’ Josh sighs as he sits up on the bed. ‘And you look so drained.. The fuck kind of incantation were you doing?’

Jake huffs and falls down onto the bed. “Maggie is right. This is definitely going to take a lot of practice.” He rolls over onto his side, facing Josh. His eyes start to droop closed, sleep fighting to take over his body. “Goodnight, Josh..”

Josh scoffs and smiles. "Boy do you need sleep," he says. ‘Goodnight, Jake.’

The sun is shining brightly into the bedroom and covering Jake’s face. Groaning and rolling over onto his side, he grabs his phone and taps the screen to check the time. 2pm. He really slept most of the day away. The screen is littered with texts from Sam and Maggie, accompanied by a few missed calls from Maggie.

“You really slept in late today..”

Dropping his phone on the nightstand, Jake slowly turns over and looks beside him. Laying in the bed beside him is Josh.

Josh?

Josh?!

“Oh my god, you heard me..” Josh says.

“AAAHHH!!” Jake screams at the top of his lungs as he scrambles off the bed and staggers backwards away from Josh. “You.. You..” Reaching for the nearest object, he swipes a bottle of cologne off his dresser and throws it at Josh.

“Hey! Woah!” Josh shouts as he dodges the flying object. “Jake, calm down.” Without another word, Jake takes off out of the bedroom. “Wait! Jake! Stop!”

“No! Stay the fuck away from me!”

“Jake!” Josh chases after him into the kitchen. Jake is scrambling around the kitchen, searching for something. “Jake, please calm down.” Jake grabs a frying pan off the hook and swings it at Josh. “Jacob! Put the pan down..”

“No..” Jake says as he holds it out in front of him. “Not until I figure out if I’m dreaming any of this.”

“Hate to break it to you, brother, but you are wide awake.” Josh says.

They slowly circle the island, Josh with his hands held in the air, and Jake still holding onto the frying pan.

“I have to be hungover..”

“Definitely not that either,” Josh says. “You barely drank enough to get yourself blacked out again.”

“You’ve been watching me?!”

“Someone’s gotta keep their eye on you.” Josh says. “Although I always leave when you and Maggie…you know.”

“Oh my god!” Jake grimaces. “How long have you been watching me?!”

“Every time you come to the cemetery.. But then I figured out how to leave the cemetery so I’ve been here ever since. You’re welcome for the coffee by the way.”

“That was you…” Jake says as he lowers the pan.

“Morning after coffee is great.” Josh smirks.

Jake drops the frying pan down on the island counter. Josh sheepishly smiles and snatches the pan away. “Just so I don’t get threatened with it again..” He awkwardly laughs.

Jake digs his hands into his hair. “How.. How did this even happen?”

“It could be that spell you were chanting over and over last night.” Josh says. “Where did you even find that anyways?”

“I don’t know…” Jake sighs. “Maggie said she found it in some spellbook that she got from some old lady in Oregon.”

“And you thought to try it?”

“I didn’t think it was gonna work!” Jake exclaims, dropping his hands to his sides. He begins to pace back and forth and tries to make sense of the fact that his twin is currently standing in front of him. The doorbell rings making Jake freeze and his stomach plummets. Suddenly he’s shoving Josh out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. “Go, go.”

“You’re hiding me?”

“Just go!”

Once Josh is upstairs, Jake goes to answer the door. Swinging the door open he smiles brightly only to come face to face with Sam.

“Oh no..”

“Gee, good to see you too.” Sam chuckles as he steps into the house. “I’m sorry to just show up like this but I did a lot of thinking.. You may sound insane, yes.. But if I’m being honest, having another chance to see Josh again, even just for a limited time, I don’t want to miss out on that.”

“Oh uh, well..” Jake scratches the back of the head. “About that..”

“Don’t tell me you changed your mind..” Sam says. “I will gladly take the damn spellbook from you and do it myself.”

“Y-You.. Um.. You don’t have to do that..”

Sam’s eyebrows crease and he folds his arms over his chest. “And why not?”

Jake takes in a deep breath and goes over to the stairs. “You can come down now!” He calls up to Josh.

Sam looks up the staircase to see Josh stepping into view. “Josh?”

“Hey baby brother,” Josh smiles.

Sam turns his attention back to Jake. “Did you..”

“Yeah..” Jake breathes.

“Last night?”

Jake nods his head. “I was a little upset after you left.. So I thought I would try to prove to you that I wasn’t crazy and well…” He throws his hand up in Josh’s direction.

“Does Maggie know?”

Jake shakes his head. “I just woke up a little bit ago.”

“It’s 2:30..”

“Apparently doing that spell wipes you out.”

Josh walks down the stairs, cautiously as to not send Sam running away and screaming, much like his frightened brother. “You don’t by chance have any weapons on you?”

“No?” Sam says confused. “Why?”

“No reason,” Josh shrugs his shoulders.

“Okay?” Sam slowly steps up to Josh and presses his index finger into Josh's cheek. “You are real…” Suddenly he throws his arms around him and hugs him tightly. “I’m so sorry.. I was angry and–”

“Sam,” Josh chuckles as he hugs him. “Never apologize. I wanted you to say all of that. I needed you too.”

They hold onto each other a little while longer before pulling apart.

“Congratulations on the baby,” Josh says. “I’m very happy for you.”

“I wish you’d be able to see them when they come.”

Josh smiles and rests his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Did you know children can supposedly see ghosts? I’m going to test that theory.”

“Oh boy..” Sam sighs. “Just don't freak them out.”

“I would never.” Josh says. “So!” He claps his hands. “What do we do now?”

“I need a drink..” Jake sighs before turning around and heading for the living room.

“Are you serious?” Josh says as he follows after him. “You conjure me from the great beyond and you want to drink?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around this.” He pours out a shot of whiskey and throws it back before pouring himself another one.

“Hello! You brought me back from the dead! I think I need to be wrapping my head around this.” Josh says as he takes the bottle from Jake’s hand. “Feels so good to finally be able to take something out of your hands. Seriously though, what do we do now?”

The front door opens and soon Maggie is joining the trio in the living room. “Oh hey Sam!” She greets him with a smile. “Lovely seeing you here.” She drops her bag on the couch. “Hey Josh,” She says as she waves at him and sits on the couch.

Sam and Josh both look at each other before Maggie’s jumping off the couch and turning to face Josh.

“Josh?!”

“Hi-i-i,” He awkwardly laughs. “Nice to finally meet you, Maggie.”

“You’re here? You’re real? How the hell are you…here…” Her voice trails and she turns her attention to Jake. “Care to explain how your brother is standing in the living room right now?”

“Depends,” Jake says. “How mad are you?”

“I’m not even sure what emotion I have right now.. Am I dreaming?” She says as she turns to look at Sam. He simply shakes his head in response.

“I got drunk last night after Sam left and I wanted to prove to him that this wasn’t just some silly voodoo shit.” Jake says.

“How did you do it?” Maggie asks.

Jake shrugs his shoulders. “I lit some candles and repeated the incantation until I grew tired.”

“And then proceeded to sleep all day.” Josh adds. “Such a boring day. Though it’s nothing new, I spent the last four years bored out of my mind in a cemetery.”

“Sleeping all day would explain why you haven’t been answering my calls.” Maggie says as she raises her brows at Jake.

“So now what? He asks for the third time..” Josh says.

“Well you can’t leave the house,” Sam says. “Last thing we need is freaking people out.”

“Let’s make some music!” Josh exclaims. “One last song together and you can say it was in the lost files.”

“But we’d need Danny.” Jake says. “And he knows nothing about this.”

“Plus he’s golfing in Florida,” Sam says. Josh turns to Sam and flashes a wide grin. Sam sighs and fishes his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll go call him.”

tag list is in my master list if you would like to add yourself! 🤍

@losfacedevil @writingcold @ignite-my-fire @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @hollyco @earthgrlsreasy @dancingcarbon @josh-iamyour-mama @oliverfuckingreed @cheersdannyx2 @highway-tuna @musicislove3389 @gretavangroupie @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @thetroublegetssoloud71 @squirreledelman

[nightyslibrary]

(A Short Fic About) A Normal Day With Your Double Mutated Brother

☆ Fandom: rottmnt (au by @heckitall )

☆ Warnings: Nothing!! Just fluff and the boys being silly :]

☆ Word Count: 1432

☆ AO3 Link: N/A

☆ Characters: Leo, Donnie, Mikey

Uhh so I might have written something inspired by Heckl's comics and drawings :] go check his comics/artwork out!! Hope you like it (and happy birthday!!) (Also if there is any mistake... well, lets say its because it is 1 am)

 When it came to playing video games the twins would always end up getting too invested in it, which either would turn up to them fixating on the game for hours or fighting over who could beat it in “the right way”. Even when the games were two player ones, they’d still do the same thing.

 Not so surprisingly, this didn’t change even when Donnie became twice his size. Instead now the boys were sitting in Leo’s room, Leo laying his back on Donnie and playing the new the Legend of Zelda game on their switch. Donnie was watching the screen with joy, his tail wagging, and at times chirping to Leo.

 “See? I can do the puzzles quite well.” Leo said without looking away from the screen. “I had told you.”

 Donnie chirped as a response, as if making fun of Leo.

 Leo turned to him, “Just because I got stuck it doesn’t mean I am not good with them. Now let’s go back to the depths, since somebody thinks I can’t handle it.”

 The double mutated turtle smirked, making turtle sounds, before noticing something on the screen and pointing.

 “Wha- oh shi--!” He yelped as he moved with Donnie’s arms holding him, making various sounds in the meantime. As Leo turned back his attention to the game, bleeping as he continued playing it with Donnie commenting at times once again. Just like before Donnie’s situation, as if nothing had changed. Everybody in the lair would agree this was nice.

 Neither of them was sure how long had passed when Mikey entered with a smile on his face. “Are you two still playing Tears of the Kingdom?” He asked as he approached them.

 “Yep.” Leo replied.

 “It’s been five hours.” Mikey said.

 “Uh-huh.”

 “Which means nobody would say anything if I interrupted you for very important reasons.” He grinned.

 “Wrong.” Leo responded.

 “Don’t think Raphie or dad would agree.” Mikey said, knowing very well that he was right and the two would hear about how they shouldn’t sit down and play video games, forgetting to take care of themselves such as eating. Not to mention how Raph would take this to his advantage and get the switch for himself, not letting Leo play for the rest of the day.

 The slider sighed and starred at his younger brother, knowing very well that Mikey had won. He saved his game and put the switch aside. Meanwhile, Donnie huffed from behind. “Soooo tell us about whatever that is very important?” Leo asked as he got up.

 “I was thinking about how long the lair has been the same, and about how nice it would be to redecorate it.” Mikey explained.

 “You’re the artist Mike, not us.” Leo pointed out.

 “Weeeellll, I wasn’t only thinking about art. Remember the Christmas lights?”

 Leo squinted at Mikey. “You want to decorate the lair with Christmas lights.”

 “Yes!”

 “In August.”

 “Yeah!”

 “…”

 “…”

 “You’ll ignore Halloween?!” Leo gasped, a bit dramatically.

 “We can have Halloween later on!” Mikey retorted. “I just want to have some bright lights around, and maybe a few other new stuffs. A colorful lair wouldn’t hurt anyone, instead it would bring joy! Also, it is for art and creativity!”

 “So, you mean you want to,” Leo snickered, and his brothers knew what was coming. “Lighten up the mood.”

 Mikey groaned, while Donnie growled, both hating the pun. Leo giggled at his own joke, proud of it.

 “Ignoring Leo’s terrible pun for my sanity, all I am saying is it would be nice if you could help.” The youngest said.

 “Eh, sure.” Leo shrugged, not that he could say no. Donnie got on his feet too, careful to not accidentally knock anything down. He was still getting used to his new size.

 With Mikey’s lead they walked out, heading to where Mikey already had the boxes filled with Christmas lights. “We can start from here, and then move to the living room. Leo, can you get the lower parts done?”

 “Call it done already.” The slider winked as he walked towards a box.

 Mikey joined him, grabbing lights from a different box, “Donnie can you help me? I need to reach the higher parts.”

 Donnie chirped as he leaned for Mikey to climb on his shoulders, just like how he did with Raph. He carefully climbed and then patted Donnie’s shoulder to confirm he was ready. Donnie churred happily, he stood up again.

 So, they began redecorating the lair with the lights, leaving some walls empty so Mikey could draw on them. In the meantime, they chatted, talking about various things and unimportant stuff. Filling the silence with happy chatter. Mikey would talk about his next art projects, then mention something that inspirited him, Leo would ask about it, and the conversation would go on.

 It was just like every single time they spent time together, yet it was everything Donnie could ask for. The chatter of his brothers, Mikey’s unexpected ideas, Leo’s dumdum jokes… It was comforting for him.

 So, comforting that---

 CHURRR

 Leo and Mikey stopped talking, looking at Donnie with surprise and glee. Donnie confusedly looked Leo and then at Mikey. As silence was the only answer, Donnie realized what he just had done. His brothers’ exclamation confirmed his fear:

 “OH MY GOSH!!!” Mikey grinned as he jumped down to see Donnie better. “DID YOU DO THAT?!”

 “DID YOU JUST CHURR?!” Leo wheezed.

 Donnie chirped a lot, trying his best in his situation. It didn’t help that Leo kept laughing, and Mikey kept saying he sounded like a happy cat. Maybe if Donnie was his not double mutated self, he would’ve acted cooler and kept calm. But he was not and all he could do chirping. Which frustrated him even more, resulting him running out of the room.

 Leo and Mikey were quick to follow him.

 Donnie had lay under a pile of clothes, most of them being his hoodies and some of Raph’s sweaters that Raph had helped him wear (and later Donnie hadn’t let Raph get them back) in his room. His tail was visible, wagging angrily.  

 The two brothers approached carefully, not to startle him. Mikey looked at Leo, unsure what to do or say. He was feeling a bit bad for Donnie, but he still couldn’t help thinking that he behaved like a cat. Leo wasn’t feeling much different. He knew that he shouldn’t have laughed that much, while Donnie was still upset with his double this whole situation.

 Leo was first to speak, “Uh hey Dee, mind if we join you?”

 A growl.

 “Aww come on, we got something to show you.” He said cheerfully, Mikey looked at him confusedly. The slider winked at him, meaning he had a plan.

 Donnie didn’t leave the pile, but got his head out of it, enough to be able to see them. Leo grinned, and then chirped. Donnie’s eyes widened, surprised, and confused.

 “I thought you had stopped doing it and were unable to anymore.” Mikey squinted at Leo.

 “Well, maybe Donnie’s chirping has helped me figure it out, couldn’t it be?” He spoke.

 Before Mikey could say anything and tell his disbelief, Donnie chirped.

 Leo turned his attention back to him, “I have absolutely no idea what I am saying though, but- chirp!”

 “Are you sure about not knowing what you’re saying?” Mikey questioned.

 “Chiirp.” Leo smirked.

 This seemed to lift Donnie’s mood a bit though. His tail was wagging in the happy way, and he began chirping again. Mikey joined too, since he never had hidden the fact that he still could chirp. Soon the room was filled with chirping of every sort, and the snickering of Mikey and Leo among them at times when one of them made a funny sounding one.

 As the boys' conversation changed with the passing time, Leo turned to Mikey. "About the Christmas lights... you're definitely up to something." He said. "Could it be a prank against Raph?"

 "Please, I would never." Mikey responded, obviously guilty. He didn't need to say it to confirm Leo's guess when he happily stimmed the way he'd do when he was excited for something.

 "Get ready for a surprised Raph yelp, Dee." Leo looked at the clock on his phone. Then looked at Donnie. "He'd wake up any moment now."

 Donnie chirped in response, letting Leo pet his back. Something that kept Donnie relaxed, they'd discovered.

 Then they heard the surprised yelp, as Leo had guessed:

 "ITS CHRISTMAS?!"

 Leo and Donnie turned to Mikey, who was giggling. "Brumation prank," He grinned. "Never gets old."

[rose-of-pollux]

🕰️, ✒️, 👀, ❓, and ⏲️!

Thank you!!

🕰️If you were to insert yourself into the trilogy, what year would you come from? My own time, honestly; it'd be an interesting juxtaposition to Doc's vision of the 21st Century and different situations for Doc and Marty to navigate

✒️You are hired to write/draw a new bttf comic, and it can be about whatever you want. what in the bttf universe would you want to expand on? In an answer that will surprise no one, the continuation of the musical timeline; as the Tropes page for the musical pointed out, the exact events of part II (and by extension, pt III) can't happen since Doc's voice activation lock means that Biff won't be able to steal the DeLorean and create the 1985A timeline like he did in the movie. That being said, there are plenty of other shenanigans for Doc and Marty to get into, and I'm sure they'd end up in 1885 some other way, resulting in Clara coming back with them to 1985.

👀Share a random headcanon you have about your favorite character! Doc, especially musical!Doc is very asexual. Movie!Doc can be considered demisexual with how he fell head over heels for Clara and no one else, but musical!Doc, I feel, is so asexual that he wouldn't have fallen for Clara that quickly, but does bring her back with him and Marty to 1985, and their relationship progresses at a much, much slower rate, with Doc having no clue how to go about having a relationship and Marty gleefully getting to throw Doc's previous "interact in a socially significant situation" bit right back at him (probably with a reprise of "Put Your Mind to It").

❓What is one question you would love to ask Bob Gale? Was musical!Doc's ace-coding intentional or just a happy accident? (According to the Making Of book, Roger also got a lot of say in Doc's portrayal so I'm wondering was that possibly his doing, too. *happy ace flailing*)

⏲️What time period would you want Marty to travel to and what would you want him to do? For fun or for something serious? I really, really would love to see Marty go back in time to the 30s again and go on a McGuffin retrieval quest with Indiana Jones. Both 80s Doc and 30s Emmett are involved in some capacity (with 80s Doc desperately trying to stay out of his past self's way because paradoxes). Could also lead to something full-circle with 1969 Lone Pine Doc assisting Indy with the Dial of Destiny and all that time-travel stuff, and Indy trying to wrap his brain around the fact that the one-year-old that Doc is babysitting for the McFlys is, in fact, the same young man who was running around in the 30s helping him out.

[yuseirra]

Mhm, I try hard to sync up with the characters I draw to portray them better, I have to not just think of it in a logical standpoint but actually feel something similar to what they would to do it.

When it comes to a series that has songs, those tend to really help!

I've been staring at Hikaru for three months now (but to be honest, he's just particles. There aren't any whole pieces of the puzzle. I believe I really made do with everything I could piece together and it's been pretty fun, he's.. a character left to the author in the end though I guess.) what I consider to be a piece a bit.. solid and whole enough would be.. the songs, really. He's so confusing.

So in order to make sense of him again and reinterpret him so that i can work with him again, I went back and listened to Fatal again yesterday, right? (I take these very seriously!! I'm a good student!)

I jotted those feelings Fatal left me this time. Feelings are fleeting~ it can become different every time! Let's see if what I make of it might be explored later!! I see people are certain that he's dead, but I actually don't think he is because???? It's just super lazy writing and it's not just unfair to him but to Ai. WHAT ABOUT AI OMG. SHE WANTED TO SAVE HIM. That's why I drew them in the first place??? Because that was brought up as another end goal as a plot point. That's how I see it. He looks very much he'd rot away and die but it's so dumb if he does right now. Then I can officially call this a dumb story because why make Ai say that?? No, so it has to be touched better than Aqua just downright dunking him into the sea when the guy keeps saying "I didn't do anything."<he really DID not acknowledge having done anything yet and Aqua did not bring any clear proof!!! There should have been some if we want to see the man fall to his demise. But we don't SEE ANY even while he's being dragged off by those black thingies, it's puzzling. Just him imagining him smiling together with Ai till the very end while also making one very crazy statement. What should I make of this.

I digressed, Here's my raw feelings I felt upon Fatal this time~~wonder if you could relate with me? :)

***

Wow… but it's really amazing…

If what I'm feeling right now is correct, what Fatal is expressing is such an overwhelming emotion…

It's incredibly sad.

How can someone endure such feelings? Honestly, it's better to just die than live with this. Kamiki should have really died, but for some reason, they couldn't, and they just kept on living, saying, "I can't die yet," while doing something. And that's how they went insane.

This is truly an emotion that one cannot live with. It's so tormenting. But I feel like they've been deliberately carrying this emotion for over ten years because if they let it dull, they believed it'd be the same as letting Ai dull out in his heart.

It's like a part of my body falling off… no, it feels like my very center has completely fallen away, and I can feel that.

How can someone have such a strong heart towards another person? But I think I would feel the same way if a precious person of mine passes…

The song expresses that.

Even if what they've done could be unforgivable, this is such a sorrowful emotion, and if it really is what that character felt... I think it actually is.

Suddenly, it comes rushing up, and it's so painful.

Really… losing someone is such a hard thing. It hurts. And what this song is talking about isn't even real. What will I do later? As I live, this is an emotion I inevitably have to experience, and it's suffocating…

This person really couldn't live at all. They love and miss someone so much. What I think how they'd be and feeling they feel are really worlds apart. And I can't even say I'm totally syncing up to the type of feeling someone in that situation may feel and yet, this is so hurtful. Wow, this is such a massively strong feeling.

Haha, when I listen to the song continuously, it does dull out and I just dance along to the beat, but when I tilt my head and reconsider, I see that it's a song filled with those emotions.

I'm so upset. If they had just been a crazy person from the beginning, I wouldn't feel this way. It's really too much. Why did they have to make it this painful and ruin everything of him…? The emotions are so specific and realistic that from the moment I understand the contours of this, my heart hurts. I realized it as soon as I heard it.

That said, while I write my own story, I often create and roll around with the theme of loss, but I still it's too cruel of the writers here to to drive a character to the point where almost nothing is left of their original form. Can it really be like this in reality? Can someone really break this much on their own? In my understanding, if they were that good a person, they wouldn't have naturally turned into this. So it's so strange… I hope there's a point to this and I see it, I hope my hunches are right regarding this aspect.

The emotions are so strong… haha, My condition wasn't that great today...While listening, I thought, "Oh; this is intense." and had to just lie down. It's really cruel!! The types of things this says about a character.

The song is so powerful and fast and exciting, great to do workout with, but this song is so painful. I guess this isn't the only song that's like this though. there are so many songs like this out there, haha...

But really, I get it. When someone dies, you really do feel like something is severed and falls away. It feels like this song is displaying one aspect of it.

The P3R DLC opening also deals with loss, but that one is much more subdued… calm and empty.

Fatal has very intense emotions, while P3R DLC's opening has a self of helplessness and is suffering differently. It's like watching empty streets with fallen leaves and feeling some grief. If it's disappearing, it gives the impression of wanting to melt away and scatter.

This one feels actively heart-wrenching, like digging into your own insides with your hands and feeling that it's falling away. More actively, "I can't live anymore, it's too much. It's hard. I want to die. I want to see you." That's how it feels.

That alone makes my heart feel bad and hurt. If they've made the character like this, then I hope they shed more light on it. It's so pitiful as it is… he's hurting so much, and no one pays attention to it. Even if he's a villain(is he???) how can someone be this lonely and empty. He needs Ai, just a hug would have helped him. That really could have been all he needed. It's what the song is talking about, just a voice, just her seeing him, just her soothing him with her hand,

losing a person forever can be this hard...oh, this is really heartbreaking. He did not deserve it when that happened. He wasn't like this before she passed... he should not have turned out to be this way but the feelings, are very...hurtful and I can see the loss was enormous. I wonder if it's a good thing to have found someone one could love this much, it USUALLY is, but I feel it's been warped so bad; why did this happen. They do have to show it to us because I'm curious, and I think...he does need to be shown his perspective on things before he goes? I think it's something worth being pointed out since I feel like he isn't your usual senseless madman.

[alexologyart]

[WIP] A young Entrapta killing the Last King of the Scorpioni

Is okay to cry for what had been lost, my dear. Tomorrow is a new day, as for today the child you once were had died.

Maybe no the most happy of drawings, but I think is a good one to finish 2023.

Firts of all, I hope you all had a very happy Christmas this year, and I wish an equally Happy New Year!!

This year has been rough for me, I passed my internship with the highest grades in July, and now I am days to finish my thesis finally.

In the past months there has been very little updates from me, no art whatsoever, and I'm ashamed of say, not even commission updates for those who had been due theirs. I apologize profoundly.

At the beginning of 2023 I experienced a back injury that took months to heal, the pain was too much, and still today I feel the reminicent of it. At the same time I've been too exhausted by all the requiriments to finish this big step in my life to become a professional and academic in my field, that I negleted the one thing that brings me the most joy in my life.

I am not good balancing work and life, and this took a toll on me. For the first time in long time, that part of my life that brings joy became a burden, I indentified it as a distraction, and I turned it off completely.

This happened because I'm experiencing a big sense of dread to the prospect of what the future awaits for me, trying to search for summer jobs without avail and feeling disappointed all over, feeling depressed because I feel stuck and not growing as an adult reaching 30, there are a lot of expectations to what I could do after getting my degree, defending my thesis on March will be one of them. And this has taken all my energy and time from creating things I love, to the point I even asked myself what was the point of continuing with it.

Art is one of these things that has been with me for the longest, starting drawing when I learned to hold a pen, even before knowing how to write, but in the past six months, after spending a great time without even sketching, I was afraid I had lost this ability, as my head was on Uni, and my body felt heavy by all the stress I didn't want to even check if I could still draw.

I do, I can still draw, although slowly and always resting. My brain needs to adapt again to what it was after months of not doing so.

Creating this version of Entrapta has been a roller coaster of emotions for me, she helps me to express myself and I love thinking in new ways to draw her, I don't care she is not really an original character, but mostly the deep emotional connection I have with her while writing and drawing her story.

She is strong, she is cunning, she is fierce and intelligent. But even a woman like her has to have moment of vulnerability. And this scene, is a pinpoint moment; killing while losing something of herself, quite literally, not feeling fierce but fragile, in pain, and overwhelmed.

Is something that I have reflected a lot the past months, to realize I am entering a moment in my life I should allow me to feel and not to restrict myself from the things I love, so I will try to take my time facing the situations that scares me and as well trying not to feel overwhelmed and anxious for what is to come.

If you would like to support my artistic journey, you can do so on Patreon and Kofi! I would greatly appreciate it! wish you a Happy New Year!

[magicalbats]

Kinktober Day 19: Feet

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 4965

Warnings: one instance of gendered language, the rest is gender neutral, foot fetish, foot job, toe licking, some angst for spice, reader is implied to have had a bad/abusive past but nothing is specifically mentioned in that regard

A/N: sorry I got so sidetracked for a minute there efvkefkeke but I'm back to finish these Kinktober prompts at last lol

⭐

You’re halfway through the door, tray of tea and afternoon snacks in hand, when you come to an abrupt, china rattling halt just over the threshold. That you very nearly send scalding hot liquid splashing across the floor doesn’t even seem to register in that moment as you incredulously widen your eyes at the back of Baizhu’s head. You’d expected to find the chair in front of his desk empty and the bed soundly occupied but — a quick, surreptitious glance at the neatly straightened sheets assures you you’re not imagining things, and you had in fact walked in on the exact opposite. 

What was he thinking?

“Doctor?” You call over, soft and politely tentative. 

He doesn’t even have the grace to act surprised at being caught, nor does he turn to look at you, and just keeps writing in the heavy ledger spread open before him without pause. 

“Ah, is it that time already?” He says over his shoulder in that always pleasant tone. “I thought I still had a chance to get a bit more work done before you came back and shackled me to my bed again.” 

“That’s not funny.” You sigh in defeat and shuffle further inside to come up alongside him at the desk. 

Standing there for a moment, you just watch him scribble away, dip his brush in the ink and carefully touch it to paper again before continuing on with nary a sign of interruption in the flowing script. You couldn’t quite make out what it said though — not because his penmanship was bad or anything. It was all clean and precise, and nearly perfectly balanced across the sheet but you didn’t know how to read half of the complicated characters, having never been taught more than a few of them. Baizhu was actively trying to rectify that but, well. You hadn’t quite made it that far yet. 

At last, you draw a pointed breath when he still won’t stop long enough to look up and actually acknowledge you. “What are you doing, doctor? You should be resting. You know that.” 

“Yes, yes, I’m well aware you’re concerned about me overexerting myself and I do appreciate the care.” He chuckles softly, pausing to dip the long handled brush into the inkwell again. “But a tiny bit of inventory isn’t going to kill me, dear. I promise.” 

“Inventory?” You echo him in confusion. “How are you able to do that without looking in the storeroom or what’s stocked in the pharmacy?” 

Finally bringing his head up to offer you a small, gentle smile, Baizhu gestures somewhat vaguely at the room at large. “This is both my home and my livelihood, isn’t it? One would find me quite lacking if I wasn’t even aware of what inventory moves quickly and what lingers for a while. It’s not too difficult to estimate the daily needs of the pharmacy based on my years of previous experience keeping everything running as it should.” 

You were undoubtedly impressed by that, your brows lifting in surprise and something not unlike awe, and yet you still find yourself saying, “But what if something has suddenly changed and your estimates aren’t correct?”

Noising a brief sound of consideration, Baizhu lifts his unoccupied hand to thoughtfully touch the backs of his knuckles to his chin. “Hm, changed in what way? If there was a sudden influx of sick people all suffering from the same symptoms and, therefore, requiring the same kind of medicine, I certainly would have heard about it and could easily make the proper adjustments.” 

“But … I don’t know, what if someone was stealing from you?”

He blinks at that as he slowly glances up at you again. The tiny little smile that pulls at his mouth promptly makes you flush under his ever watchful eye. “Oh? And have you been helping yourself to my herbs, dear girl?” 

“N - no, of course not! I wouldn’t even think to do something like that!”

Chuckling, he serenely turns back to the ledger again. “I know you wouldn’t. I was only teasing you a little bit.” 

Trying not to pout and failing rather miserably at it, you turn your head away from him only to spot Changsheng curled up in a tight coil on the far windowsill, sunning herself in the mid morning sun. Well, at least that explained her suspicious lack of commentary thus far. Stamping down the urge to heave yet another sigh, you shuffle forward to place the tray on the corner of the desk. There wasn’t any use in trying to argue the matter further. Baizhu always had a ready answer on hand no matter what you questioned him about, and his need for bedrest was no different from the inventory in that regard.

“Would you care to sit with me for a while?” 

Your head comes up halfway through the motion of turning to leave, but his attention remains focused on what he’s writing. Perhaps you would have found it a bit off putting if only you were not quite so familiar with the doctor's usual habits and peculiarities. If he was asking you a question like that then it probably meant he was keen on having the company … or perhaps he just missed having Changsheng hanging off his neck. Not that you could exactly crawl on top of him and take her spot or anything but the sentiment was still a nice one, wasn’t it? 

“You wouldn’t find it too distracting to have me hovering around you, doctor?”

“Of course not, dear. Having you around is always such a pleasure.” 

Even the teasing tone in his voice is not enough to keep the smile off your face. Your initial misgivings are long forgotten now as you step behind his chair over to the other side of the desk where you eagerly hop up to perch on the ledge. Laughing under his breath, Baizhu reaches over to briefly dip the brush in ink yet again and then continues on with his work. Content just to be sharing his space with him like this, you watch on for what feels like a lifetime. It was always like that, though. You could have sat with him in complete silence all day and never gotten bored of looking at him. 

But it doesn’t last forever, and your skin tingles warmly when he eventually slides his free hand over to lightly touch yours where it’s braced atop the desk. It’s an idle gesture, one that he doesn’t seem to give much thought considering the way his brush just keeps flicking over the blocky characters without even a moment's pause. If you didn’t know any better you would have almost thought it a subconscious action. Something his fingers felt compelled to do for no other reason than the close proximity of another person. 

You were just as familiar with this part of him as his stubborn refusal to heed the warnings of others, however, so you allow your fingertips to brush over his palm. It was nice being able to share such quiet amity with him, and you suspected he felt much the same way as you did. A simple comfort. 

“There,” He finally sets the brush aside some minutes later with a satisfied exhale. “That should just about do it, I believe. I’ll just have to double check everything is as it should be once I’m allowed back into the pharmacy again.” 

“Doctor Baizhu,” You can’t quite keep the soft inflection out of your voice now. “I already told you those jokes aren’t funny. We’re not holding you hostage or anything like that …” 

His elegant shoulders softly shake as he turns that fond look on you again. “I know you’re not, dear. But the way you and Gui act it’s like you think I’m going to shatter at the first upset though. You know I’m more resilient than that, don’t you?” 

Frowning, you shift your attention down to your lap. Sometimes you weren’t so sure about that … but before you can figure out how to articulate that in a way that wouldn’t make you sound like an anxious mother hen (an ironic role reversal if there ever was one) Baizhu brings his hand up to rest across your knee. He gives it a brief squeeze that makes your pulse quicken, and you find yourself slowly glancing up from under the fall of your lashes. 

“Your heart is very much in the right place and I do appreciate it.” He tells you with perfect sincerity now. “I have no intention of admitting defeat so easily though. There are still many things I need to see to in this world before I can even think about crossing over to the next … teaching you how to read and write is right at the top of that list, for starters.” 

Your cheeks burn in shame and deep felt mortification alike. Baizhu had taken you in off the streets even when every shred of common sense should have dictated that it wasn’t a good idea to do so. Even Changsheng’s initial sass and uncertainty hadn’t been enough to dissuade him from it though, so you knew he wasn’t saying such things from a place of malice or discontent. He seemed to genuinely want the best for you — and that’s why you don’t protest when he runs his hand lower to comfortingly caress over your calf. 

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He assures you with a gentle pat. “You’ve already made commendable progress in just the short amount of time we’ve been working on it. I’m very proud of you, you know.” 

You squirm, growing increasingly more flustered the more he not only talks but also touches you with that gentle familiarity. “Thank you, doctor. But … I'm just not sure how I can repay you for everything.” 

That wasn’t entirely true. You did have one idea. 

But you were always hesitant to instigate these sorts of encounters with him, mainly because regardless of how many times you went through the motions together Baizhu never sought you out himself. It was always you doing the pursuing, coming on to him and offering up thanks the only way you really knew how. He seemed perfectly willing once things got started so you didn’t necessarily think it was a matter of him not wanting to share the intimacy of a lover with you, but it did make you doubt yourself just a little bit. 

Even now the brush of his fingers on your leg remains innocent and unassuming as if the thought of where else this might otherwise lead had never even crossed his mind and he was perfectly content with simply appreciating the warmth of your skin against his. You weren’t sure if it was a result of him being so used to Changsheng’s near constant presence around his neck that made him this comfortable with casual touching or if he was just like this naturally, but he seemed not to want for anything more than that. Were you possibly overstepping some unspoken boundary when you laid yourself bare at his feet? Was he perhaps too polite and kind to tell you ‘no’ even if he really didn’t want it? 

You truly had no idea. Baizhu was so unlike anyone else you’d ever met that you really couldn’t make sense of him sometimes. The inventory, the way he refused to take care of himself amidst taking care of everyone else, the touching, his insistence that you should know how to read and write … he truly was an enigma. 

“You needn’t worry yourself about unnecessary things like that.” He tells you, and the affectionately gentle tone in his lilting voice just further throws you into turmoil. “I didn’t invite you into my home with the expectation of receiving anything in return so no thanks are necessary. Just keep doing your best every day and I’ll be perfectly content with that.” 

And isn’t that precisely why he deserved to be on the receiving end of such favors? 

Stealing another quick look at the far windowsill, you confirm that Changsheng is still softly snoozing away before shifting on top of the desk to fully face him. Baizhu tips his head in question, looking totally unawares, and it almost gives you pause. It’s a little hard to shake the feeling that perhaps you were the bad guy here, like maybe you were the one taking advantage of him, but … surely that wasn’t the case, right? If he didn’t want it he would have said so, wouldn’t he? 

You feel uncharacteristically shy, almost sheepish as you curl your leg up and brush the ankle against his thigh in clear suggestion. His expression promptly settles into a neutral look of understanding. He doesn’t show any signs of being pleased or excited by it, but he also doesn’t look repulsed by your advances either. Just accepting. Of you, of this — archons, even when he wasn’t teasing you he was still the most difficult and confusing man you’d ever known. 

“This isn’t something you need to do for me. You must know by now that I’ll be perfectly fine without it.” 

Face warming with what you think is probably shame, you nod in understanding. “I do, but … I’d like to make you feel good, if that’s okay.” 

Drawing a stitled breath that makes his narrow shoulders rise and then fall when he lets it out on a slow exhale, Baizhu loosely curls his fingers around your calf. Drags them lower to give your ankle a reassuring squeeze and then further down to nudge off your slipper. It hits the floor with a near silent flop against the hardwood, and then he’s cupping the heel of your foot in his palm. Gently lifting it to chest level, he bends to press a chaste kiss to your toes. 

“You’re very kind to me, dear, but I hope you don’t think I expect such favors from you just for providing you with a roof over your head.” He murmurs, and you give your head a shake this time. 

“That’s not it. I know you don’t. I just want to be able to do something for you in return …” And this was the only thing you knew how to do with any amount of skill. You were neither a scholar nor talented in any trade. You couldn’t read or write. Some days it felt like you struggled just to serve the tea properly. 

But this was something you had plenty of experience in and you liked to think you did it well. That doesn’t exactly disperse the niggling thought in the back of your mind that tells you you’re somehow forcing yourself on the doctor, that you were coercing or forcing him to give in. There’s a certain amount of guilt that comes with this, on your part at least, but you can’t quite seem to find the resolve to stop doing it. 

And Baizhu does give in, though not without an almost sad, barely noticeable softening of his strange burnished gold eyes. Still cradling your foot in his hand, he presses his mouth to the sensitive pad this time to make your toes flex at the ticklish feeling before lowering your leg. You watch him carefully direct it to his lap and a dull thrill races through you when the weight of him through his pants meets the arch. Using both hands now, he takes a moment to just fondle over the extremity and massage his fingers into your skin. An unexpected shudder dances up your spine when he locates a particularly tender spot that seems to bleed some of the tension from your body when he presses on it. 

Of all the things you’d expected to have to do for him this one had been relatively low on your list. Liking feet did not appear to be so strange or unheard of in the grander scheme, but you can’t quite decide how you actually felt about him using only this part of you to get off. Certainly other areas would make him feel even better — your mouth, at least, but he always kept his attention on your feet instead. That embarrasses you a bit too, if you were being honest, but the way he softly sighs in budding arousal stops you from pressing the matter. 

If this was what made him feel good then you would happily give that to him. 

“Your skin has gotten even softer since the last time,” He murmurs, clearly pleased by that. “Those herb scrubs are doing wonders to reverse the damage done before you came here. It really is a shame you had to struggle so much just to survive.” 

“It’s okay, since I don’t have to do those things anymore.” And you intended to keep it that way, no matter the cost or what it took. Baizhu had given you a new life, a new purpose for existing, so of course you would want to repay him. It was only natural, right? 

When he smiles it picks up the edge of sadness you can just make out in his eyes, but his voice remains soft and even toned. “Are you certain about this? I know you always seem eager to please but …” 

“I’m sure. You enjoy it, don’t you?” Pointedly curling your toes to nudge them against the faint bulge under your foot, you keenly observe the way his dark lashes give a slight flutter in response. He stirs underneath you, becoming more pronounced. A little thicker. But still, he doesn’t immediately jump at the chance. 

“I do. More than I’d like to admit, if I’m being honest.” His fingers tracing over the jut of your ankle bone, Baizhu regards you in quiet contemplation for a long moment before drawing a careful breath. “Thank you for having me in this way, dear. I don’t exactly have the time to cultivate many relationships, and taking on a lover seems … ill advised, given my condition. As long as you understand that there is a limit to what I can give you in return, I have no qualms about it.” 

Your stomach sinks. So that was it then, wasn’t it? His hesitancy didn’t stem from a lack of wanting but wary caution when his own mortality always at the forefront of his mind, dictating all of his decisions. What he could do, what he would allow himself to do, how much he would comfortably let another person in. That was the crux. 

Perhaps you should have felt bad about chipping away at his self erected defenses to end up at this point where he was openly admitting it to you, but somehow you just really don’t. 

You feel emboldened, in fact, and you gently rub the pad of your foot over him with a fresh spike of courage searing your veins. Baizhu hums a low sound in response and lets his eyes slip shut for a moment, just basking in the sensation. It was vindicating, in a way. Knowing it wasn’t a problem with you or the burden you’d been carrying when you came to him. The fact he’d held out this long — no doubt wanting to avoid any further exploitation — was a testament to his strength of will, but he was still human. He was still a man with all the hardwired urges and impulses of any other. 

Just as you’d thought, then. You really were the only one who could take care of him in this way. 

Directing your foot a little lower down, you take a moment to gently nudge at and tease the weight of his ballsack between his legs. You can see the growing tent in his pants now, straining up just above your toes. He looses a shuddering breath and slowly rolls his hips forward to grind himself on you. A sense of reluctance still remains, you can see it in the tense set of his shoulders, but that doesn’t quite stop him from acting on it. 

“You’ve already done so much for me, doctor Baizhu.” You whisper into the suddenly static air. “Let me do something for you now.” 

Hissing a low sound of wanting, he tips his face down to watch your foot slide up the now rigid length of his cock. A glossy strand of hair slips forward to hang over his shoulder, matching the crystal bauble that dangles off his glasses. It swings softly at the motion, drawing your attention to it for a brief stretch, but his attention remains locked on what you’re doing in his lap. You can tell he wants to, so you reach up a little higher to toe at the sash around his waist. 

“Untie this for me?” 

Baizhu hesitates only for as long as it takes you to blink, and then he’s stiffly bringing his hands up to tug at the knot. It comes loose with a near silent slither, not unlike one that Changsheng would make, and you dart your eyes up to make sure she was still where you’d last seen her. It didn’t look like she’d so much as moved since you’d entered the room some time ago though. Hopefully she really was fast asleep over there in the warm sun or she at least had the sense to keep pretending to be. The doctor wasn’t afforded many opportunities like this, and you knew he’d put an end to it immediately if she alerted him. 

But for now at least, he makes quick work of getting his soft pants pushed down enough to allow his cock to spring up between the two of you. A hot pulse of wanting spears through you at the sight, your desire to do more with it than simply rub your feet on it almost overpowering your higher functioning mind. But you pointedly stay on track, and lift your leg to press that stiff length against his flat stomach. Using this to brace against, you start to rub the pad of your foot up and down, up and down the silky underside of him. 

Moaning very softly, Baizhu leans back in his chair to watch as if in transfixed silence. The light blanket he had resting over his shoulders fans out slightly with the shift, and you dare to scoot a little further over on the desk so that you’re sitting almost directly in front of him now. The soft rustle of movement settles back into silence again, interspersed only by the occasional chirp of a bird outside the window or the distant sounds of city life beyond. Lifting your eyes, you look Baizhu in the face. 

To your surprise, he’s looking back at you. 

“Thank you.” Is all he says, and the hushed tone of arousal in those two simple words makes your blood boil. Oh, how you wanted him to be yours so badly. 

“You needn’t thank me, doctor.” You murmur as you fan your toes out over the head of his cock and knead them down into the glans. It makes his chest hitch, his golden gaze taking on a far away, almost dreamy quality. 

Quickly, you bring your other foot up and snatch the slipper off that one too. You don’t even register the sound of it hitting the floor as you press in on the base to massage both ends of him at the same time. A faltering groan slips out of delicately parted lips, and he tips his head back to sigh up at the ceiling in appreciation. 

It’s a bit awkward like this, but you soon find a steady rhythm that has your feet moving over him in tandem while he sedately rolls his hips forward to fuck himself on the pads, arches and toes. Just as every other time it’s escalated to this, Baizhu shows no visible signs of uncertainty now and, in fact, he’s actually quite open about how much he’s enjoying it. You can see the deep rise and fall of his chest gradually become more pronounced, the muscles in his stomach flexing tight with each slow motion grind against your feet. He’s beautiful like this. Even more so than he usually is, and you idly wonder if he would allow himself to express his pleasure more vocally if it was just the two of you. No employees or snakes, or zombie children to potentially alert and interrupt the moment. 

Maybe if you did well enough he would let you find out some day. 

“Are you sure this is enough?” You finally venture to ask when his straining cock pulses eagerly under your toes. It was no exaggeration to say that you would have given him anything he wanted, no matter how strange or demeaning it may have been, but he only gives his head a distracted shake. 

“Yes, dear, just like this is fine. More than fine, actually.” Drawing a shuddering breath, Baizhu brings his attention back down as he lifts a hand up to grasp your topmost foot. He takes a moment to covetously squeeze it, feeling along the skin before carefully guiding it towards his chest once again. “I don’t think I’m in any position to ask for more anyway, but this is plenty. I’m afraid I can’t seem to get enough of these cute toes of yours as it is.” 

Your heart stutters a beat when he bends his head over your captured limb and instead of leaving it at just the kiss he reverently presses into the toes, he opens his mouth to lick over the thin layer of skin as well. The sensation makes you jolt, especially when he drags his tongue between the first two digits to attack the sensitive webbing inside. You seethe and try very hard not to yank your foot away when it tickles almost enough to make you squeal. Baizhu doesn’t appear all that concerned about it though, and he merely peers up at you from over the rim of his glasses. Watching your reaction, or perhaps gauging how much you could take before you couldn’t reasonably keep your voice in check any longer. Either way, he’d never taken it quite this far before and you had no idea what to make of it. 

Not the fact he was doing it at all or the startling revelation that comes with it. You hadn’t expected the space between your toes to be this sensitive, and you shudder despite yourself. 

“D - doctor …!” 

He lets out a low sound of pleasure, warm breath puffing against damp skin as he reaches over with the opposite hand to grasp the foot still keeping his cock pinned. Fondling over it, he maintains his eye contact with you when he swipes his tongue between your toes a second time, and you really do almost recoil. You’d never felt anything quite like it before. Soft and warm, and squishy, and you really weren’t sure how you felt about it wriggling over your toes like that. 

Pulling in a quiet gasp, you clutch the edge of the desk in a death grip while he grinds his throbbing cock against one foot and licks at the other. His breathing was quickly turning ragged, his cheeks a little flushed. It makes your head spin to see him like that, but somehow the borderline ticklish sensation of his tongue almost manages to distract you from it. 

If he ever put his mouth on the spot between your legs like that … 

“Ohh, goodness,” Panting, Baizhu hunches forward over your legs with a full bodied shudder. The motion of his hips falters for a split second and then morphs into something a bit more urgent. More needy. His cock stiffly works back and forth, back and forth across the soft arch of your foot, along the pad and up to nudge your toes before dragging back down again. 

It’s not hard to imagine him rutting inside your body this way, and it pulls a low moan from the back of your throat. The sound seems to tip him over the edge and, brows knitting in deeply felt pleasure, he presses his mouth firm against the bottom of the foot he’s still clasping, hissing against the skin. His sputtering length gives a muted twitch. You can feel the dull, subsequent contractions that follow as it pumps out a thin jet of creamy fluid to coat your extremity, and then another. He goes still with one final spurt, issuing a frazzled, sensitive moan that quietly trails off into nothing. 

The resounding silence is almost too much for you to bear. 

“I’m sorry,” He wheezes at length, once he’s calmed his breathing down some. “I seem to have made quite a mess.”

“It’s alright.” Trying to keep your voice pleasantly even, you curl your toes down into the softening cock to lightly massage it. “As long as you feel good that’s all that matters. I’m just glad I can do something for you …” 

Releasing a stilted exhale, he gingerly straightens up in his chair. You don’t miss the vague grimace that crosses his lovely face when he sees the sticky evidence of your illicit activities, and Baizhu softly tuts as he reaches into a pocket to withdraw a dainty handkerchief. He uses it to wipe up the clumpy mess with another soft word of apology, his hands gentle where they touch. Looking at him like that, bent over your feet and sincerely apologizing for something you’d talked him into doing, you once again find yourself being hit with a strange sense of guilt. It was only natural to want to thank him with such favors … wasn’t it? 

So then why did you feel like you’d done something wrong?

⭐

Crossposted: here