#but he also isn't gonna just walk by and see a man stumbling and not help

[skyloftian-nutcase]

I kinda like your chronicles of the domain story thing if you wanna do something with that for the prompt event. thx!

(@silvrash-797 this one’s for you ❤️)

Link was sick.

It wasn't anything too alarming, Abel told himself repeatedly. The chidl had a stuffed nose, a bit of a fever, and a wretched cough. Captain Tomall had assigned Abel to guard the Hylian quarters to help him care for his boy, which the young knight greatly appreciated. He spent the morning with Link in his arms, comforting the poor child, who was quite miserable with his situation. Abel's touch wasn't as gentle as Tilieth's, but his soft words of encouragement and love seemed to help either way.

He pointedly ignored the fear in his heart, like a tiny needle trying to undo him. He pointedly didn't think about how Tilieth had been sick before their departure, how Link maybe somehow had it now. But that couldn't be the case - it had been two weeks since they'd left Hateno, after all.

Still, Link coughed and moaned, and Abel worried.

Ekan, Abel's teammate in guard duty today, offered to take care of everything so Abel could just rest with his son. Abel was somewhat annoyed with the offer - Ekan was by far the weakest fighter in the group, and he did not take his duty as seriously, so leaving him in charge would be a disaster. Although the man had a good heart, Abel didn't trust the Zora enough to leave protecting Hylians up to Ekan alone.

It was strange, though. Having spent roughly a week here now, Abel was... not entirely sure what to make of the Zora. He'd heard of them, of course - a mysterious and elegant race of water loving people, with strange appearances, beautiful aesthetic, and strong magic.

When they'd been briefed for this mission, they had all been told briefly of the political landscape, at least enough for them to grasp the importance of protecting their ambassador, Cilda. The Domain and Hyrule had clashed in the past, though not too recently. Nevertheless, tensions remained high, and trust low. The late Zora Queen had not liked Hyrule much, but with her death the Queen of Hyrule saw a new opportunity to establish good relations with the heir apparent, Dorephan.

Dorephan. The man had been kind enough when Abel had met him. But he could also very clearly see distrust and disdain in the upcoming king's advisors, and it made him wary.

He hoped everything would go well, though. If nothing else, for Link's sake. The boy had really started taking a liking to some Zora children, and had even interacted with the little princess, Mipha. Abel wasn't entirely sure how appropriate that was, and tried to keep it to a minimum, but he couldn't control his son while he was on duty, much as he tried.

None of that really mattered now, though. Not with Link being sick.

Speaking of the Zora, however, one of the little Zora children did stop by to ask if Link could play. Rivan, if Abel recalled correctly. The little boy was greatly disappointed when he heard Link was ill, and he asked that Abel pass along message to get better soon because we were gonna go see Ploymous Mountain (to which Abel pointed out that children should not be wandering to random mountains by themselves since he hardly knew the terrain or how dangerous this area was).

As Abel checked on his little boy in the afternoon, having left him in bed to rest, he found the child clutching his cow plushie and sniffling. The knight's heart twisted a little at the sight of it, and he knelt down to be at eye level with the child.

"Feeling any better?" he asked quietly, gently brushing hair away from the boy's face.

"My head hurts," Link whined, voice breaking halfway through the sentence.

Sympathy tugged at the man's heart, and he leaned in to kiss the child before saying, "It'll get better, son. Drink some water and rest, okay? I'll be back with dinner."

He felt a little bad for leaving the child, but to be fair, he'd carried him around with him most of the morning. As much as he loved Link, he didn't need to coddle him too much. The boy would have to learn to become more independent someday. Abel found himself constantly debating how to go about doing that - Tilieth would treat him like a baby all the way up to his adolescence if she could, but Abel didn't agree with that. But he also didn't think it was fair to just throw the boy into the world as he himself had been, forced to parent his little sister, forced to run the house when their mother deteriorated and passed away.

He'd comforted Link plenty today, right? And he would tell him a bedtime story with dinner. He couldn't be with the boy all day. He hadn't been their entire stay here.

But Link was sick. And Abel was worried.

He sighed heavily, returning to his post, ignoring Ekan's gaze. When his teammate tried to start conversation, hand restlessly running over his dark cornrows on his head, Abel tried not to be too snippy in response. There was nothing wrong with Ekan trying to be friendly; Abel simply was too stressed to play along.

The next day, Link's fever finally seemed to break, giving Abel immense relief. Captain Tommell mentioned that there would be some sort of serious meeting between the heir apparent and their diplomat, Cilda, and many Zora officials would be there, meriting tighter security. Abel hadn't really seen the soon-to-be-king since his initial meeting with him - most of Cilda's interactions were with Zora officials beneath him, after all. This was important.

Which meant he would be assigned to guard her. And Link would be alone, sick.

Abel swallowed his remorse on the matter. Duty was duty. He spent breakfast in his room with Link.

"I'm going to be guarding the diplomats today, son," he explained gently. "I asked Sir Ekan to make sure you're okay."

"Braids soldier?"

Abel's mouth twisted a little in amusement. "You have to learn their names, Link. They're our... our friends here."

"But I don't want Braids Soldier," Link whined. "I want you, Papa."

Abel sighed. "Sometimes we can't get what we want, Link. Our duty always has to come first, remember? Others are relying on me, too. You're safe here. Our ambassador is not."

Link hugged Mrs. Moo more tightly, lip wobbling, but he nodded. Abel smiled proudly at it. His little boy would be a good soldier someday, and he told him as much before kissing his forehead and steeling himself for a long day. Link was on the mend, though, so no matter what, it would be fine.

And it was fine. Until the next day, when Abel woke up with a runny nose and a headache.

He groaned. Of course I got it too.

Whatever this obnoxious feverish nightmare was, it was clearly contagious. He prayed it didn't spread to the other soldiers. Goddess, what if he passed it on to the captain, or the ambassador?

Link wiggled in the bed a little, clearly far more energized, jumping up and down in excitement. "Papa! Papa I'm feeling better! Papa, look!"

Abel swallowed, feeling his throat scrape against itself, raw and swollen. He mustered a smile, nodding. "That's good, son. Maybe you can go play with your friends today?"

Link nodded eagerly.

The little one's smile fell, however, when Abel started coughing harshly as he stood.

"Papa?" he asked, beady eyes wide with worry.

"I'm okay," Abel assured him, pointedly ignoring the look from their roommate, Norri.

When he coughed again, though, world spinning slightly as his head pounded, Link immediately shifted uncomfortably. "Papa, you're not okay."

"Link--"

"Papa, you're sick!"

"It's okay, son."

Link's eyes were filled with tears, and Abel was almost baffled at the reaction. Surely he couldn't look that ill, right?

"I made you sick," Link whimpered.

Oh.

"No," Abel hastily tried to appease him. "No, sweet child. It--I got this from--from Norri."

His roommate's expression grew affronted, and the younger knight huffed, freshening up and stepping out of the room.

Link seemed a little less horrified, but no less worried.

"Son," Abel said gently, picking him up and kissing him. "I'm a grown up. When we get sick we're okay. We don't really get all that sick. My body's bigger and stronger, so I can handle it, okay? I'll be fine."

Settling him on the ground, he nudged him along. "Go eat some breakfast. I'll be out shortly."

When he stepped out into the hall, he nearly jumped to the ceiling when Norri materialized beside him, saying, "I am not pretending to be sick just to assuage your child's worries. Unlike you, I am dedicating all my energy into doing my duty."

Abel's patience wasn't what it should have been. Not with as ill as he was feeling. Instead of taking the words with a neutral expression, he snapped, "Don't take my care for my child as shirking my duty. You know nothing of responsibility until you have someone in your care. Some of us aren't self centered brats who wish to climb the ranks."

He really should have held his tongue. Especially since Norri had occasionally tried to look out for him. The man wasn't a bad person, just... immature. He had his opinions about Link's presence, and Abel bristled at it. It wasn't as if he himself weren't aware of the inconvenience having a four-year-old caused; he didn't need it rubbed in.

Before Abel could retract his words, their superior arrived to corral them into the den and hand out their assignments. Abel would be with the ambassador alongside the captain and, of course, Norri.

Great. This was going to be a great day. Abel held back another coughing fit as he said his goodbye to Link and told him they would spar in the evening. Ekan, kindhearted as he was, promised he would keep an eye on Link and told Abel to take care of himself.

Goddess, how obvious was this illness? Abel felt miserable but he thought he was hiding it fairly well.

Well. Until he wasn't.

It wasn't entirely his fault. But he supposed that didn't matter. Lack of food and water mixed with whatever was tearing his body apart, and it turned into the perfect storm.

At least Abel managed to excuse himself from the meeting hall and made it into some innocuous corner before the dark edges of his vision caught up to the rest of him.

He wasn't entirely sure how long he'd passed out, but the sunlight didn't seem to have moved too much when he awoke. His shoulder ached--he must have hit it when he fell--but thankfully his helmet protected his head from any major impact. Now he just needed to find some water and get back to his post.

Shakily, Abel pulled himself to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall, when he realized he was being watched.

He reached for his blade automatically, feeling far too vulnerable, but a strong voice said, "Steady, Hylian. I don't mean you any harm. You're hardly a threat in your state, anyway."

Abel bristled a little at the implication of his ineptitude, but he sheathed his sword nonetheless. He didn't need to cause a diplomatic incident. The Zora in question was a sergeant, Seggin, who was known for his pride and prowess in battle. He was head of all the Zora military as well, which made this particularly unnerving.

Abel was exposing himself as a weak link in the Hylian forces, and he hated it. He wasn't entirely sure how to get himself out of this situation, so he just tried to stand tall and proud and strong, despite having just passed out.

"Hylians are so delicate, aren't they?" Seggin continued, walking towards him with his arms crossed. "Your kind live such short lives. You hardly understand anything of how the world works, and I wouldn't exactly call your people capable. How Hylia favored your race is beyond me."

Abel steeled himself for a fight, face carefully neutral so as not to be the one to start it, but more than willing to end it.

Seggin sighed before reaching for something and holding it out. "Drink. Get back what little strength your feeble Hylian body can muster. I'll not have you dying in my prince's halls and causing a problem."

As much as he wanted to punch the sergeant, Abel opted to just take the offered water flask and drink. He also promised himself to spar somewhere public when he was feeling better so as to prove this sergeant wrong.

With a nod of thanks, he made his way back to the meeting hall, ignoring Seggin's watchful eye as the sergeant also walked there. The two had a silent face off the rest of the day, sizing each other up, though Seggin hardly seemed concerned by Abel.

When the young Hylian knight returned to the barracks, he felt absolutely wretched, but he tried to put it aside as Link eagerly asked about sparring and talked about his day. Abel indulged the boy, wanting to also stretch and fight as well, and the two went at it briefly with wooden training swords. Link's prowess still surprised Abel, and honestly, with as sick as he felt, the child genuinely did almost defeat him.

Honestly, the joy of seeing his boy's abilities really did make him feel better. As he undressed from his armor, he felt his trousers get tugged and looked down to see Link holding a tray of food and what looked like five glasses of water.

"I brought dinner," he said, holding the tray up as proof.

"I... already ate," Abel replied, confused. "Remember? I had dinner with you."

"But it wasn't enough, Papa!" Link argued. "And you need water when you're sick."

Abel sighed heavily. There was little point in arguing with the child, so he nibbled on the offered food, ignoring Norri as he entered the room.

Link watched him uncertainly, holding his plushie tightly. When Abel smiled at him, he held the toy out hesitantly. "Do... do you want Mrs. Moo?"

Abel tried not to choke on his water. "W-why?"

"She helps," Link explained seriously. "When you weren't there she made me feel better because she's from you and Mama."

Abel lost his appetite in a heartbeat, guilt gnawing at his insides. He swallowed, putting the tray down on his lap. "I... sure, Link. Thank you."

Link smiled eagerly, taking the tray and putting it on the nightstand before handing Mrs. Moo to his father. Then he started fussing over Abel, insisting he tuck him in (and pat his cheeks with his grubby little hands, and goddess if it didn't take all of Abel's willpower not to laugh at the silly child). When Abel's pillow was fluffed, blanket pulled up to his chin, and Mrs. Moo secured snugly in his arms, Link was finally satisfied.

Abel smiled as his sweet boy crawled under the blankets to snuggle with him. Mrs. Moo smelled like soggy cloth and spilled food, and he noted he should probably wash the thing in the morning. His headache didn't seem to pound quite as much with some water, and the general ache that had been creeping through his body wasn't enough to keep him from trying to get comfortable.

In the end, Link's care was far more healing than anything else, and Abel felt his heart warm as he fell asleep that night.

[thinkinonsense]

for more logan angst, would you consider doing a "one year later" or something like that follow-up to dbf!logan and the i love you fight?

i miss you, i'm sorry-dbf!logan howlett x fem!reader

part one

456 days after

everyday your words haunted logan. he could picture you with tears in your eyes so clearly. he still went down to your fathers bar; needing something to cope. you left shortly after the fight, using the money you had saved up from working at the bar to get an apartment a couple towns over. there needed to be distance between you and logan but it seemed that no where was far enough.

logan knew every tiny detail about your life since you left. your father shows him pictures of how you decorated your apartment and tells him about the new boyfriend you've got. he should be happy; you got out before logan could get you hurt. instead, he's been drinking himself to sleep most night. your favorite bra and sleeping shorts still sat in his bedroom dresser, untouched but they still smelled like you.

"she comes home next week." your father says, pouring logan another glass of whiskey. "her mom and i are throwing her a small welcome home party, you should come by."

as if logan wouldn't feel more like a dick, he had also drove you away from your parents. always coming up with an excuse for why you can't come visit.

"i'm not sure–"

logan was cut off by your father again.

"c'mon, bud. i don't wanna be the only guy there." he jokes, excited to see you but just maybe not your friends that your mom invited.

"uh, sure." logan sighs, taking another swig from the glass. he desperately hoped that your father would forget or that logan could come up with some excuse.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

your thumbs drum anxiously at the steering wheel as you drive down your old street. the nerves were finally hitting, too late to turn back like you had many times before. all of your friends cars sat in the driveway, you can't cancel on them again.

logan could smell you before you even got out of your car. he's down in the basement with your dad and a few of the guys from the bar. his mind was anywhere except present as he focused solely on you.

"that should be her, fellas." your dad smiles, getting up to greet you upstairs with the others. "i'll be back."

logan finished his beer and wondered if he should sneak out or fake some emergency. was he even ready to you again? how would you react?

"hey, logan? could you come help bring in some bags?" your father yells down the stairs.

"logan?" your voice was shaking at the mention of the man who shattered your heart.

this isn't the time to be crying. just get through dinner and then you can drive home; tell them you can't stay the night. fuck, what were you going to do?

"welcome home, sweetheart." logan mumbles with a slight nod, walking past you and out the door.

it was hard to mask your anger. one of your friends pours you a glass of wine and brings you to the living room, away from logan. your dad and him bring in your suitcases and sit them in your old bedroom. all of it felt like when you step off a roller coaster; dizzy, slightly confused, wanting to go again.

at the table, your mom asks about your new boyfriend. logan couldn't stand you going on and on about how great this guy was. so great that he's too busy to come home with you.

"so, do you think he's 'the one'?" one of your friends asks.

"um... i'm not sure." you shrug, catching logan's eye. "but i know he loves me and that's all that matters."

you might as well shot logan in the chest with that one.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

one too many glasses of wine and two beers later, almost everyone was starting to clear out. everyone except for logan. he's not sure why he didn't leave sooner. perhaps it was your presence that made him stay. even if you were pissed at him still, you were still here, still near him.

"i'm gonna go get more beer from the garage." you tell your friends, stumbling a little to your feet.

the truth was that you needed some air. too consumed by logan's heated gaze. you made it down the porch steps before you heard the screen door open and close.

"i don't need any help." you call out over your shoulder.

the foot steps sounded much closer by the time you flicked on the light switch.

"don't you think you've had enough to drink tonight?" logan asks, shutting the garage door behind him.

"i can drink however much i want." you slur slightly. "i am an adult after all ."

"i know, you're an adult."

"are you sure? because wasn't it just a little over a year ago that you were still treating me like a child?"

"if you don't want to be seen as a child, then don't act like one."

"fuck you, logan." you hiss, slamming the fridge door.

"oh sure, it's fuck me for sayin' the truth." logan rolls his eyes.

"it's fuck you for breaking my heart."

"do you think that you didn't break my heart by leaving?"

"i left because you told me to go!" you cried, finally letting the tears flow. "i said i loved you and you got scared like a little kid."

"i got scared because you shouldn't love someone as fucked up as me." he snaps, voice becoming strained.

"did you serious think i didn't know?"

logan looks at you stunned. how did you...?

"you talk in your sleep. it wasn't hard to piece together after that." you answer with sigh. "your mutation doesn't scare me."

there's a moment of silence between the two of you. logan steps forward, touching a lock of your hair; vanilla body wash flooding his senses. he's missed you so much.

"your stuff is still in my drawers." logan whispers. you know what he means; he's never been good with expressing his emotions but you always could tell what he meant. "want ya' to come home, sweetheart."

logan's rough palm moves up to cup the side of your face. your torn between shoving him away or pulling him closer. without a second thought, you nuzzle into his touch. old habits die hard.

"i can't." you tell him.

"yes, you can–"

"no. you don't love me, lo."

"i do, i want to be with you." logan begs, fighting off his tears.

"you love when i'm in bed with you or when we listen to records and do cross word puzzles together, but you are not in love with me." you tell him, lightly removing his hand from your face. "i can't be with someone who hides from me, someone who can't even say out loud that they love me. i'm sorry, logan."

you grab the case of beer and walk past him one last time. it was hell to leave him there but even logan knew he deserved it. he wasn't worthy of your love then and he defintely wasn't worthy of it now. you dodged the bullet that would leave him here to bleed out.

[two-white-butterflies]

she's got away

Description: You frame your husband for your murder. It looks like Homelander has finally found his match.

Pairing: homelander/supe!reader

Warning: infidelity, murder, downfall of homelander, implied domestic abuse, planned suicide.

A/N: inspired by amy dunne. also, because i know that homelander isn't just gonna marry some basic bitch, he wants that crazy 😭

Homelander has read all news articles about you, your ex-boyfriends couldn't stop talking about the beauty of being the recipient of your love, but that was the thing. It was beautiful when the full warmth of your love is focused on them, but once the spotlight shifts - it leaves them feeling empty, reeling because of the loss.

When he married you, he expected that spotlight to be on him 24/7. "I can't believe that you convinced them to cancel the deal," a giggle escapes your mouth and Homelander's jaw clenches. Seeing you draped all over Stan Edgar made him want to kill that man. "It isn't that difficult when you have the D.A's office on retainer," the man boasts in a low whisper, but Homelander can hear him.

He can hear every little conversation happening inside the building. He glances at you - what did you have that he didn't? Why does Stan Edgar trust you of all people?

"Well that ought to remind them," you mused, taking a sip of your fizzing champagne. "Of what?" Stan raises an eyebrow.

You look straight at Homelander's eyes. Aware that he was listening in to your conversation with the executive. "that Vought isn't a superhero company. It's a pharmaceutical company." The sweet smile does not leave your lips, his jaw clenches - eyes glaring.

How dare you!

Openly defying him in front of Stan Edgar. Besmirching everything that he built and fought tirelessly for, just to twist the knife. Homelander had half the mind to march in your direction, to grab you by the arm and fuck you in front of all the executives that you tried to kiss-ass to. He takes a deep breath.

He mumbles a few curses, none loud enough for anyone to hear.

His heart sinks to the bottom of his chest once he realizes the glaring truth, that your love was beginning to slip away. The spotlight that all your exes couldn't stop talking about was now moving to the next big thing, and no one leaves Homelander! No one leaves him!

"Cheers," he hears you offer a toast.

He sees a woman standing in the table in front of him, clad in a black Etro dress that she probably rented just to wear. She looks like you in some lights. Homelander smiles - a lazy yet charismatic smile.

He walks towards her.

"It must be boring for you, watching all these idiots drink wine." He opens his mouth to speak, and the woman's attention turns towards him. Oh, he was going to move his spotlight before you move yours.

You lazily walk towards your shared apartment with Homelander. It was never a great pleasure spending the night here, the decorations were too manly and corporate for you to ever feel at peace with the surroundings. Dark blue walls - endless fake pictures, and that constant smell of perfume makes your head hurt.

A sigh escapes your mouth as you sink deeper into the sheets. His bed was magnificent - almost like he slept all the time. You sent him a message an hour ago, but he hasn't responded yet. "Where the hell are you," you mumbled while opening your phone - quickly navigating towards the 'find my phone' app.

Uh, yes, you put a tracker on your husband without his consent.

The app loads rather quickly, and you zoom out of the map - to see John inside of a Hilton Hotel. "Son of a bitch," you cursed. You rise from the sheets, sitting down and leaning on the bed-frame. You dial Ashley's number, and she answers on the first ring. "Where is Homelander?" You ask before she could say hello.

"Um, uh, I-" she stumbles in her words.

"Don't lie to me, please." Your voice was surprisingly soft. If the phone call was recorded, you didn't want it to come biting your ass in the future. "I don't want to tell you," Ashley responds in a firm tone. "I won't tell him that I know. It's a promise." You vowed.

"He's going to kill me. I don't want to get in the middle of this." She begged, her voice sounded desperate. "Well, you are in the middle of this and if you don't tell me then I'll find a way to screw you over." You threatened, recorded call be damned, playing good cop was over.

"He's at the Mandarin. He met with someone, please don't tell him that I told you!" She cried, a scoff escapes your mouth.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

yourname: This cape stands for everything that I believe in! It is also a reminder of how thankful I am to call this beautiful land my home. #FosteringTheFuture #Homelander

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comments

homelandertruther: No supe has ever done as much damage to America than Starlight. Thank you homelander 🦅🇺🇸

MyEyesOpen: God bless this country

BootySheath99: Christians for Homelander >>>>

A fake smile ghosts your face as you feel his muscled arms wrap around your body. "Where were you?" You question. Not a nerve in his body showed signs of nervousness, which only made you think that he's been doing this for a long time. How it didn't eclipse your radar? You're not entirely sure. "I had a meeting with Madeline." He lies, pressing a kiss to your naked shoulder.

All men do is lie.

"At the Mandarin?" You raised an eyebrow, a sigh escapes his mouth. He presses another kiss to your naked shoulder, before pressing his face to the crook of your neck. "You don't have to be so damn possessive. It was just a meeting and Madeline is a prude." He talked down on the woman who was responsible for his success.

Your fingers danced across his clothed body, playing with the strands of his perfect blonde hair. This love story began because of a coffee shop, because he wanted to see the good in this world - and found it inside of you. He liked getting his ego stroked, you stoked his ego and then some. He liked watching old american films in his room projector, and you listened to him ramble about every little detail. He wanted a cool girl, and he got her.

Being a cool girl and being his wife is a mutually exclusive event. The occurrence of one supersedes the other and vice versa. You can't be 'cool girl' and also be his wife. It is humbling to become something that you once mocked. "I can't help it," you mumbled.

"No one is going to steal me from you," he promised. Oh, this was the first time that he addressed your feelings towards one another - and it looks like he's only doing it to not get caught. Who is his mistress? You wondered. Was she more beautiful than you? Did she have blonde hair or piercing blue eyes? Was she a southern belle, or perhaps a foreign woman who he has never seen before?

"What's happening to us? We're not happy anymore," you breathed out, watching as his features turned darker. His pupils dilated, his jaw clenched, and his grip on you tightened. This was another one of your mind games, one of the things that you'd do before pushing him off the edge. "We are happy." He insisted, because the truth is - there is no use being in a relationship with someone when you're not at your happiest. "We were happy." You corrected, pulling away.

"I know that you met with someone else," you whispered - almost in fear that someone else could hear. "I'm angry - disappointed, but I also love you. I want to be happy, again, with you." You confessed.

He kept staring at you, looking deep into your eyes, almost unable to decipher between the truth and your lies. "John," you refer to him by the name closest to his heart. His eyes soften, thrown back into the reality that you're nothing like him - there was not a bone inside of your body that schemed, or got jealous, or thought of bad things. You are good - the only good part of him.

"I'm sorry, baby." He apologized.

You press a kiss to his lips. Fuck you.

"Hello, you may all know me as Homelander's wife or Comet which is my superhero name. But my real name is Y/N Gillman. A few days ago the NYC District Attorney subpoena'ed me and I agreed to testify against my husband. He's done a lot of bad things. I'm not really sure if I'll be safe. If something happens to me, Homelander did it, my husband killed me."

The television screen fades to black, and his daunting reflection stares right back at him. A few hours ago you were reported missing, seemingly abducted in the middle of the day - and now this video is going viral. Homelander admits that it doesn't look good on him. "What the fuck is going on!" Madeline barged into the office, obviously as discombobulated as he was.

"I was hoping that you could tell me," a shrill air of madness hovers over his poignant figure. He wanted to kill the person in charge of posting this video, he wanted to know if you did this on your own accord - or if there was a gun pointed at your head. The thought of both sends him reeling into a cage of madness.

"I-I think that there's a reasonable explaination for this. She could be abducted by a terrorist group and forced to film this confession." Ashley came to your defense.

Homelander clenches his fist.

"If my wife was abducted under Vought's watch, then, I'm going to kill everyone, and I don't care how this plays out in social media." He threatened, glaring at Madeline - who he was sure had everything to do with this. Madeline takes a deep breath, regaining her composure - and an unnerving smile ghosts her lips. "We should all calm down, Vought is trying its best to track her down right now." She smiles.

"Make it fast!" Homelander raises his voice, throwing a vase in Madeline's direction.

Y/N GILLMAN'S DIARY ENTRY #30

Dear Diary,

My husband looks at me so sweetly, I can't help but think that he's the man of my dreams, the father of my future children, and the love of my life. Lately, I think that this man of mine is going to kill me.

He had sex with someone else. Mandarin Oriental. Find my Phone. It wasn't that hard to figure out. I confronted him last night, and the way that he promised me that he was going to change - almost had me believing that he would. My mother always said: men never change. My mother was right.

I opened his phone (don't ask me why I know his password) but I saw that woman's message. MISS U INSIDE ME. I fucking hate her.

Like any good wife, I confronted him about it (again) and he told me that it was nothing. I can't remember the other parts of our conversation, but it dragged on for so long that I almost thought that it would never end. He told me that he'd kill me. I think he's going to.

"Detective Harold Brink. I'm here to solve your wife's disappearance," the man shook Homelander's hand. The Detective had a certain rogue-ish charm to him, tanned skin with a light stubble. He had a head as big as his ego. Harold Brink seemed confident in his skills. Homelander is going to be the judge of that.

"Shouldn't you be out in the field doing exactly that? You wasted time coming here," Homelander gritted his teeth, staring at the man from his head down to his toes. "Nothing but protocol, Homelander. I don't want to point a finger but there was a video going viral, an accusation made by the person missing, if you may." Harold states.

He doesn't have to be a genius to understand that this incompetent detective was pointing a finger in his direction. "We also found her diary when we searched your apartment." The man lays the book on the table in front of him. He sees your beautiful handwriting, with loops and straight lines. Your handwriting always danced between the line of print and cursive. "I think this man of mine is going to kill me, a direct quote if you weren't able to read." Harold says smugly.

Homelander contemplates killing the man, but it would be obvious. His demographics were going down, he was already facing a media trial - Harold was his hail mary, whether he liked it or not.

"Hyperbole. You don't know my wife." Homelander insisted, seeing the glaring red lights in his periphery. The cameras were rolling, he needed to make a performance of the lifetime. "- and clearly you don't either. I have a video of her saying that if she were ever to go missing, then you'd be the one responsible for it. I also have a page from her diary alleging that you wanted to kill her." Harold says.

"I'm not at a deposition." Homelander glares.

"You will be, soon." Harold stands up, hearing footsteps from the outside. Most probably Homelander's lawyer. "I'll give the subpoena to your attorney," he informs.

Homelander stands up.

"Give me all the papers that you want, but my wife is out there. Instead of spending time trying to back me into a corner, maybe you should actually begin to do what the American taxpayers are paying you to do. Find my wife!" Homelander yells, and on cue the door opens. "How dare you talk to my client." His lawyer says.

Homelander sighs, this was going to be a long month.

homelander: My wife is missing. If you have seen her please report to the authorities. Keep us in your prayers ❤️🙏🏻

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homelander: There has been an avalanche of fake news coming my direction. I want to make it clear that I would never do anything to hurt my wife. The video that has been going viral is a deepfake. 📍 pinned comment

cometfanbase: There's literally evidence of u cheating on her 😭

kuchie92: #WeStandWithHomelander #HereForHomelander

"What is this?" Homelander shoves the phone in Ashley's direction. "Your legal counsel and the PR firm decided that it would be wise to post something in light of..." Ashley does not finish her words. She keeps her distance from Homelander. "I'm surrounded by fucking idiots. What if someone looks into that video and finds out that it isn't a deepfake?" He questions.

These people at Vought keep underestimating the power of social media. "We already took care of that. We own all the deepfake detection software, and they all flag that video down. Plus, our influencers have been posting a lot of videos to sway public opinion." The woman continues speaking, after three shots of vodka - fear doesn't make itself evident.

Homelander sits down at the head of the table. "Updates about the case?" He wanted all the insider information. He also wanted to know if you were really abducted - or just faking it to punish him. "They think that she was abducted, there was blood on the floor, signs of struggle. Vought thinks that we're dealing with a larger force, people who have the resources to pull this off inside of Vought Tower." Ashley avoids his stare, placing a stack of files on the table.

If Homelander was to find out that she was the one who told you about the affair, then she was going to be food for the worms. "Cameras?" He takes a sharp breath. "All records have been wiped from the database. They're trying to recover it but it's a slippery slope." Ashley continues, shifting as she stands.

Should she really be the person to tell him about all of these? One wrong word and he's going to shoot a laser through her head. "Get out of my sight," Homelander leaned on his chair - Ashley scattered faster than pigeons do at the sight of danger.

Madeline warned him about his temper, told him that he wasn't allowed to kill anyone until they were able to find you. She really thinks that he has something to do with your abduction. For the first time, Homelander is innocent in this crime.

His heart beats a little faster at the thought of you being held in danger. Hopeless against your abductors because he wasn't there to protect you. He looks like a goddamn pussy. It is his duty as your husband to protect you, and he couldn't even make sure that the cameras in Vought Tower were working.

When he finds you - when he finds the person responsible for this. He is going to kill them. He's going to torture them gently until they beg for death, and he's never going to give them death. He's just going to make their existence a meaningless chore. Born to be tortured. Born to be reduced to nothing but limbs and organs.

The perfect radical justice.

He was just about to shoot his lasers through the window but Harold Brink walks through the sliding doors of the Seven meeting room. "Homelander, you're coming with me. You have the right to remain silent..." Harold's voice drowns out once he feels himself stand up, his hands wrapped around by cold steel handcuffs.

You will remain in police custody until the investigation is over.

The following day, his lawyer came marching. His pays the man $10,000,000 annually and Homelander can say that he is worth the money. His cell (if he could call it that) was luxurious, a double mattress bed and five star dining - it was almost a vacation. But his mind couldn't rest - all he could think about was you.

If you were safe, fucking with him, or actually dead in a ditch.

"You need to make a public statement." His lawyer made his message very clear. "The Seven has been doing work without you. Vought has been talking about suspending you, most of all, half of the public thinks that you killed your wife." The man updated.

"If I speak then everyone is going to think that I did it for public opinion." Homelander gritted his teeth. He could easily get out of this facility in a blink, but due to propriety he must stay. "If you don't speak then everyone is going to think that your shameless," his lawyer enunciated. "- if we allow that fact to sit then it will become the truth." He added, handing him a file.

Presumably, the script for his 'public' message. Homelander brought to his knees by a goddamn missing person's report. "My wife is still missing. I'm not seeing anyone do anything about that. They're all pretty determined to point the finger at me." Homelander scoffs.

The man in front of him adjusts his glasses. "Did you do it?" He questioned, aware that Vought made contingency plans - so that no one would be able to record Homelander during his 'jail' time. "No," Homelander said with all the strength in his chest.

His people, the Americans, were turning against him.

"It doesn't matter anyways. As long as there is no body, they can't make us do shit. Now, about that public announcement, I'll be back here tomorrow - and ease up on the whiskey." His lawyer stands up.

HOMELANDER'S INTERVIEW

Cameron Coleman: Did you kill your wife, Homelander?

Homelander: I did not kill my wife, I am not a murderer.

Cameron Coleman: But you hurt her. You were unfaithful to her.

Homelander: I was. I am not proud.

Cameron Coleman: How do you expect us to believe you, when we all know that you're a liar?

Homelander: I didn't come forward about that fact because I knew that it would make me look bad. I knew that no one would trust me if that fact ever came forth. A real man doesn't hurt his wife. A good superhero protects everyone, but I'm just a man. I don't care about my reputation anymore. I need my wife, because I know that I need to make it better. I was a bad husband to a wonderful wife, that is the truth, Cam.

Cameron Coleman: And you expect us to [cuts off]

Homelander: I met Y/N L/N ten years ago and I was enchanted by everything that she did. She made me believe that there was good in this world, as I was always exposed to all the bad sorts, all the bad crimes. My job as a superhero has desensitized me to violence, I thought that violence was normal. When she came into my world I realized that it wasn't, life could be and can be gentle and kind. I wanted her to love me so I pretended to be something that I was not.

Cameron Coleman: You talk like a man who believes that his wife is still alive. Is she?

Homelander: She is alive. Please stop talking like she isn't.

Cameron Coleman: Okay, what would you like to say to your wife?

Homelander: Y/N, I love you. You are the most special person in this world, and I have hurt myself over the things that I've done to you. Come home, please baby. I'll spend my whole life trying to make it up to you, trying to be the man that I promised to be. The man who makes you happy, the man who thinks and remembers everything that you love. I'm sorry for doing the easy things instead of doing the right things. Come back, please.

Homelander: I'll do everything that you want me to do. We'll build a house by the beach, I'll stop being Homelander. I'll give you kids and dogs and make you that surfboard that I always promised to buy.

[tear trickles down Homelander's eyes]

[screen fades to black]

A gasp escapes your mouth as you finished watching his interview. A sudden realization comes to you. This man has killed for you - this man is killing himself for you. He has stripped himself bare of everything that he holds dear (he only holds his reputation dear). The American consensus on his morality has waned significantly.

They all think of his name and spit on the ground. Once he realizes that no one loves him, he's going to burn the world. And isn't it your duty to keep Homelander down to earth?

This husband of yours has hurt you so much, but he also knows what kind of words to say to keep you drawn back to him. You were twin flames, both with large fires, just waiting to burn each other out. No one understood you like him (vice versa) and he is the only person who's able to match your craziness.

The wanton desire that he feels over destruction. The wanton desire that you feel over destroying him. We are born for each other, you thought. You made that man - filled his boring and touch-starved self with attention until he began forming his own ambitions. He's nothing without you, and Vought is nothing without you.

A few weeks ago, you really wanted to kill yourself.

You planned on slitting your throat down the river. Your dead body would wash up on the shores, and everyone will point their fingers at Homelander. His life was going to be ruined, his reputation, his demographics - he was going to be a FAIL in all demographics. But now, maybe you should get back to him.

Because he really loves you. He wants to make it up to you. He knows the words to say to rile you up, and he knows what words to say to make you forgive him. He was the Adam to your Eve.

Your creator and your ruin.

If love doesn't rile you up, make you change yourself, make you evil, then it isn't love in the first place. It's dependence.

This thing that you feel for Homelander. It's love.

Love in its own twisted way.

[mcdynamite]

When everything settles down after Vecnapocalypse, Steve gets a call from the athletic director at Hawkins High School, and a day later, he accepts a part-time position as the assistant coach of the Hawkins High varsity basketball team.

Lucas is obviously stoked, and the other kids concede (after a few minutes of bemoaning Steve's return to the Dark Side) that it's a perfect job for him. Robin screeches with delight, and Nancy tells him she's proud of him, and Jonathan thumps him on the back with a quiet, "Congrats, man," and Eddie?

Well, Eddie just rolls his eyes and makes a joke about the Return of the King that goes right over Steve's head (but has the kids and, wouldn't ya know it, Nancy, grinning) and doesn't say much else.

It's probably stupid, but Eddie has actually (horrifyingly) grown to like hanging out with Steve. Sure, he knows next to nothing about D&D or Lord of the Rings or metal music, but that doesn't seem to matter all that much. He still listens to Eddie rant about all of those aforementioned interests and does his best to understand, even if he doesn't particularly care about the content of Eddie's latest campaign. He lets Eddie play Dio and Metallica and Black Sabbath for him, and even though Eddie can tell he's not really into most of their music, at the end of his "Musication" he gives Eddie a list of the songs he actually liked, so they have some stuff to listen to when they hang out that won't make one of them want to puncture their own eardrums.

He even looks genuinely apologetic (and, dare Eddie say, disappointed?) when he tells Eddie that it's not that he doesn't want to read Lord of the Rings. It's just that he can't, because reading is really fucking hard when the letters won't stop jumping all over the damn place.

The point is: Eddie likes Steve. He likes Steve's sarcastic quips and his attentiveness, and his hilarious but well-meaning and frighteningly successful mothering of the teenagers they apparently co-parent. Eddie likes Steve, and he likes being his friend, and he's afraid that this stupid Assistant Coach job will end up dragging Steve headfirst back into his King Steve days, and Steve will forget all about being friends with Eddie "The Freak" Munson.

It's so, so stupid, because while Eddie likes Steve, he also knows Steve, and he knows that Steve isn't the guy who used to hang around the Tommy Hagans of the world anymore. But the fear is there, and it's still there by the time the school year starts and Steve starts getting busy "prepping" for his new job, which... what? The basketball season doesn't start until January, so what the hell kind of prep would Steve be starting in August?

Eddie wonders, but he doesn't ask. He just anxiously waits to see if Steve will eventually decide to ditch him, and he continues to be quietly delighted when Steve always, always makes time for the two of them to hang out.

The thought of Steve going back into jock-mode still makes him kinda sick, but he'll never tell Steve that. Steve is way too excited for the start of the basketball season, and Eddie is gonna support him the same way Steve supports Eddie at his Corroded Coffin concerts: with begrudging interest and genuine pride, so help him God.

It goes on like this until one day, Eddie's begrudging interest suddenly becomes a little more genuine, when he accidentally stumbles upon what Steve meant for the last three months whenever he said he was "prepping for the season." 

He's got plans to hang out with Steve that afternoon, pulling up in his van fifteen minutes late because time management has never been one of his strong suits. Only, when he gets to Casa Harrington, he notices something strange. The garage is open.

The thing is, Steve always parks the Beemer in the driveway. He never uses the garage. Actually, Eddie didn't even realize Steve had a garage at all, until now, but he hears some clanging coming from inside and goes to investigate. He walks past the Beemer (parked in the driveway where it always is) and peers inside, expecting to maybe find Steve... repairing something? Reorganizing? Honestly, he has no clue what he thinks he'll find in there.

What he definitely doesn't expect to find is Steve Harrington in the middle of what appears to be a pretty fucking intense workout – hair and tank top damp with sweat, wearing frankly indecently short shorts, and breathing steadily as he does fucking pull-ups on the bar in his garage, which has apparently been converted into a whole goddamn home gym.

Eddie stops in his tracks and stares, affording himself a moment or two to have a teeny, tiny (enormous) crisis over it.

Steve hasn't noticed him yet, and Eddie can't tear his stupid eyes away from the way Steve's arms tremble from the exertion as he pulls himself up, face pinched into a concentrated frown. Eddie can see him gritting his teeth, can see the muscles in his arms and shoulders straining a little bit. Even worse, every time Steve lowers himself down, his stupid tank top rides up just enough to expose the (not at all soft, apparently) plains of his stomach, glistening with sweat, and God, Eddie wants to lick Steve fucking Harrington's abs like a-

Oh, no.

Oh, fuck no.

Oh, Jesus H. Christ, fucking shit, NO.

Listen... It's not like Eddie hasn't already known for years that he's gay. He's been fully aware of that since middle school. It's the reason his dad kicked him out and sent him to live with Wayne, for fuck's sake. It's just that Eddie has put a lot of effort into pretending his thoughts about Steve Harrington were totally, completely, 100% platonic up until this point, and now he can feel all of that hard work going down the metaphorical drain.

He stands there, stock still with his jaw hinged open, and stares while his brain melts out of his ears and his thoughts begin to race. God, those fucking arms. Eddie's not weak, but he's definitely weaker than Steve, which means Steve could definitely pin Eddie down if he wanted to. In a bed. Against the wall. On the hood of a car. Fuck, on the goddamn floor – Eddie's not picky! All he knows is that he wants Steve to leave the workout for later so Eddie can lick the sweat off of him, which... gross. But also hot. But also-

"Eddie?"

Oh, fuck. How does one talk to the sun?

Steve has noticed him standing there, obviously, which sort of makes Eddie wonder how long he's been staring. Time stopped in Eddie's world the moment a sweaty Steve Harrington entered his field of vision, so he truly has no idea how bad his staring got.

Christ, this is going to be so bad.

So, so bad.

"Eds?" Steve says, his face pinching into a frown. "You okay?"

Oh my god, you moron, say something! Eddie's brain screams at him.

"What?" Smooth. "Uh, yeah! Totally fine. Just, y'know, like, lost in thought, or whatever. Plotting my next demonic attempt at world domination. The usual."

Steve looks at him like he's grown a second head, which... is fair. But Eddie's fumbling attempt at speech is at least embarrassing enough to take precedence over the cacophonous sound of whatever Ode to Abs his mind was attempting to compose, and Eddie feels like he can think a little more clearly.

"Ah, fuck," Eddie mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighs and looks at Steve apologetically. "I'm sorry, dude. I swear I'm fine. It's just been a weird day."

Steve cocks his head to the side like a particularly inquisitive puppy, and oh God, it's adorable. Eddie loathes how adorable it is. "Good weird?" Steve asks. "Or bad weird?"

Eddie ponders his answer for a moment, then replies with, "Weird weird."

That's enough to startle a laugh out of Steve, who shakes his head and wraps a towel around his neck. "Fair enough, man. Sorry about all of this, by the way." He gestures vaguely towards the home gym in his garage and shrugs sheepishly. "I was gonna be done before you got here but I sorta... lost track of time, I guess." He's got an unreadable look on his stupidly beautiful face, and Eddie doesn't like that at all. He doesn't like that one bit.

But he decides not to overthink it and brushes Steve's apology off with a wave of his hand. "It's whatever, dude. Might wanna shower, though." The ‘otherwise I might take it upon my gay little self to lick you clean’ is left blessedly unsaid.

Steve laughs again, and just like that, things start to feel a bit less earth-shattering. They banter for a bit longer, then Steve really does go to take a quick shower, and they spend the rest of the night lying on the floor of Steve's living room, listening to the metal mix tape they made together and bitching about their brood of teenagers.

Weirdly, though, after that day, Steve seems to be working out a lot more frequently. As in almost every single time he and Eddie have plans. Day after day, Eddie is treated to the sight of Steve Harrington looking like a goddamn Greek god, and day after day, Steve catches his eye and smiles before abandoning his equipment and acting like Eddie's world hasn't been completely turned on its head.

It's starting to drive him kind of insane, honestly, and his pining has gotten so bad that even Gareth and Jeff know.

"He's just so pretty!" Eddie whines for what feels like the thousandth time.

His band mates simply exchange a long-suffering look and let him ramble.

It all comes to a head in November, just before Thanksgiving, when Eddie shows up and once again finds Steve finishing a workout. Just like always, Steve shoots him a good-natured grin and greets him before heading inside for a quick shower, and just like always, Eddie waits downstairs.

NOT like always, however, this time Steve comes jogging down the stairs with wet hair, wearing a pair of joggers and... absolutely nothing else.

It's been a long time since Eddie last saw Steve without a shirt on (since the day at Lover's Lake when they found watergate, to be precise), and suddenly Eddie is remembering why he'd immediately pulled out a cigarette to calm down that day. Only this time it's even worse, because Steve has really been putting effort into these workouts, and it shows.

His chest is toned and covered in coarse hair that Eddie kind of wants to tug on, just to see what sort of sounds Steve would make if he did. He's got the makings of an honest-to-God six pack just barely visible on his abdomen, partially obscured by scars Eddie recognizes from looking at his own in the mirror. Steve's are slightly smaller and not as deep, but they clearly came from the same sets of tiny jaws, and Eddie finds them weirdly comforting, these matching scars that they share. Steve's look pale in contrast against his skin, and God, Eddie just wants to kiss them. He wants to worship them and every other inch of the man who bears them.

The man who definitely just said something Eddie didn't hear because he was too busy trying not to pass out from mere proximity to something so beautiful.

"Sorry, what?" Eddie asks, shaking his head violently in an attempt to dispel his traitorous thoughts.

Steve smirks, but Eddie can see the soft fondness in his eyes when he cocks his head to the side and repeats the words Eddie missed the first time. "I asked if you see something you like, Munson," Steve teases, one hand carding wet hair out of his face, and Eddie just blinks at him.

Play it off, play it off, play it off, his brain supplies helpfully. He can totally play this off. Dudes stare at their friends’ chests all the time, right?

"What?" he practically squeaks. "I- well... no, wait, um... ah, fuck."

So much for plausible deniability.

He's just beginning to feel vaguely panicky when Steve seems to catch on, and he's right in front of Eddie in an instant, concerned, hazel eyes gazing down at Eddie's grimacing face.

"Hey," Steve says, reaching out like he wants to touch Eddie but thinks better of it. "It's okay, man. You're okay. I'm just messing with you."

The impact of his words is instant, and Eddie can feel his face heating up. Of course Steve was joking. God, Eddie is such an idiot.

"Right," Eddie says, voice strained. He rubs his face with both hands, shaking his head lightly. "Duh. Obviously you were teasing." His voice sounds strange even to his own ears, and he's got a weird feeling of anticipation in his stomach that tells him that he's already shown too many of his cards.

"I mean, yeah..." Steve says, seeming nervous for the first time since Eddie got here. His hands flit from the back of his neck to his hair to his waist, like he doesn't know what to do with them. "Teasing is, like, flirting 101, so..."

Eddie freezes.

"Oh my God, wait..." he says slowly, finally daring to meet Steve's confused eyes. "Flirting?"

Steve looks utterly perplexed now, and he does that thing where he cocks his head to the side in confusion. 

It's still adorable. Fuck, why is it so adorable? 

"Um... yes?" He studies Eddie, seems to register the shock on his face, and then matches it with shock of his own. "Wait, you didn't know? I thought you knew!"

"I most certainly did not!" Eddie counters, feeling a bit like he's having an out-of-body experience.

"Oh my God," Steve says. "Oh my God, Eddie, I've been flirting with you for, like, months!"

"Months?!" Eddie's voice has officially reached the stratosphere.

"Yes!" Steve yelps. He looks torn between laughing and crying, though Eddie thinks it'll be mildly hilarious no matter what choice he makes. "Jesus, dude, I winked at you while I was doing pull-ups last week! What did you think that was?"

"A hallucination!" Eddie says immediately. "You're straight, Harrington!"

At that, Steve snorts, then shakes his head.

Eddie's pretty sure his brain is melting by now.

"Yeah, um, no," Steve says firmly. "I'm definitely not straight."

"You... I... What? Since when?"

"Well..." Steve begins, briefly glancing away. "Since forever, technically. Probably. But officially, since that time I made out with Tommy H. after we got wasted at a party sophomore year. And if that wasn't enough proof, I think the amount of time I’ve spent staring at your ass lately definitely is."

Eddie stares at him. "Am I dead?" he asks dumbly. "Is this Heaven? Am I having a fucking stroke?"

Steve's laughter is bright when it rings through his living room, and Eddie is grateful when Steve carefully raises a hand to cup his cheek, because the soft touch is grounding in the best way. 

"Definitely not dead, Eds," Steve says. "And shit, I hope you're not having a stroke. How many fingers am I holding up?"

Eddie just blinks at him, because Steve has one hand on Eddie's cheek and the other on Eddie's arm, and he's definitely not holding up any fingers. "Zero, Harrington, what the fuck?" he says weakly.

Steve laughs – no, scratch that, he giggles. He fucking giggles. 

If Eddie isn't dead yet, he's about to be. 

"Good. See?" Steve says. "Not having a stroke."

"I don't think that's how strokes work, dude," Eddie says weakly.

"No?" Steve asks, though he's still smiling, and he looks wholly unbothered by Eddie's doubting of his medical prowess.

Eddie shakes his head, eyes wide as Steve huffs out a laugh and slips an arm around his waist to pull him closer. They're practically chest to chest now, and Eddie is suddenly reminded of how very shirtless Steve currently is. He's mildly horrified by the way his hands tremble slightly when he rests them flat against the center of Steve's chest, but it's not like anyone can blame him! He's only ever kissed a couple of people before, and now he's somehow found himself in the arms of a half naked Steve Harrington. So, yeah, he's feeling a little jittery. Sue him.

If Steve notices the jitters, though, he doesn't mention it. Instead, he gives Eddie a soft, disarming smile that makes Eddie feel pathetically weak at the knees. "So..." Steve says, cheeks turning a pretty pink color. "Hi."

A slightly manic bark of laughter bursts from Eddie's lungs, but it only seems to make Steve smile wider. "Yeah, hi, Stevie," Eddie breathes. 

And then he nearly stops breathing completely when Steve's thumb drags gently across his cheek. It's such a sweet gesture that Eddie thinks he might melt right into the floorboards.

"So..." Steve murmurs again, gaze not leaving Eddie's. "It has recently been brought to my attention that you didn't realize I was flirting with you this whole time."

Eddie doesn't need a mirror to know that his face flushes bright red at Steve's words.

"But I have been," Steve continues. He bites his lip, almost like he's nervous, which is ridiculous because what the fuck is there about Eddie that could be making Steve Harrington nervous right now? "Like, I've been doing it constantly, because you're funny, and sweet, and sort of adorable, but also kinda hot? Y'know, because you have the tattoos and stuff, and you're all dramatic all the time, and it's hot, but then sometimes you do that thing where you hide your face behind your hair, and it's so fucking cute, Eddie, I mean..."

Steve trails off, cheeks growing even pinker after seemingly realizing that he's been rambling, and Eddie feels like he's going insane.

"Anyway," Steve says, clearing his throat. "I like you, Eddie. Like, a lot. And I've sort of been dying to kiss you for, like, months, so-"

Eddie never lets Steve finish his sentence, because the moment the word kiss leaves his mouth, Eddie is leaning forward and pressing their lips together in a soft, fleeting kiss that's over far too fast.

So fast, in fact, that it takes a moment for reality to catch up to Eddie afterwards. He's already pulling away by the time it hits him: he just kissed Steve Harrington.

He, Eddie fucking Munson, just kissed Steve fucking Harrington.

"Holy shit," Eddie mutters, gaze flitting back and forth between Steve's wide eyes. "Holy shit."

There's a brief pause, and then Steve starts to laugh.

It starts as a soft chuckle and slowly transforms into bright, elated laughter that echoes off the walls and bathes the whole room in sunlight, never mind the rainy day outside. It's light and happy and beautiful, and Eddie unfreezes after a moment to add his own laughter to the mix. He drops his head onto Steve's shoulder, a shiver running down his spine when Steve's arms come around him automatically, like they were made to fit together like this.

Eddie wonders if maybe they were.

When their laughter finally dies down, Steve carefully pulls back just enough to meet Eddie's eyes again, and Eddie smiles shyly up at him.

"Sorry," Eddie says without a hint of guilt in his voice. "You said the word kiss and I panicked."

Steve just shakes his head and grins. "See? Like I said - adorable." One of his hands raises to cradle Eddie's cheek again, and Eddie doesn't hesitate before leaning into the touch. "But if it's okay with you," Steve says softly, “I'd really like to give you a proper kiss, now."

And yep, it's official. Steve Harrington is going to be the death of him.

Eddie can't fucking wait.

He nods and lets his gaze flit down to Steve's lips for a fraction of a second before Steve is closing the distance between them, and oh... this is so much better than the quick, vaguely frantic press of lips they exchanged only a few moments ago. Eddie takes back every judgemental comment he's ever made about the girls who were obsessed with Steve Harrington in high school, because he gets it now.

Oh, God, he gets it.

Because Steve kisses him, soft and sure, like Eddie is the only thing that matters in all the world. It's gentle and sweet and perfect – not an ounce of hesitation in the way Steve slots their lips together. And then Steve just... stays there, like he's giving Eddie a moment to catch up, to process what's happening.

He's so goddamn patient – so fucking kind – and Christ, Eddie adores him for it.

Steve pulls back just enough to break the kiss, and Eddie doesn't whine. He doesn't. But it's okay, because Steve doesn't leave him hanging for long, threading his fingers through Eddie's curls and using them as leverage to tug him even closer into a kiss that turns Eddie's legs to jelly. Steve's tongue slides against Eddie's so beautifully, and his hands are so strong, and he smells like lemony soap and minty toothpaste (did Steve brush his teeth after showering? God, he's ridiculous. He’s perfect.) and Eddie can feel the muscles in Steve's chest shift whenever they move, and, and, and...

And yeah, this time when Steve pulls away, breath coming quicker and eyes shining with happiness, Eddie does whine. Or maybe it's a whimper. Maybe it's both. Christ, Eddie doesn't care. He'll keep making that noise forever if Steve keeps looking at him like this.

"Fuck," Eddie breathes. He knows he probably looks embarrassingly awestruck, but he can't find it in himself to care. "How are you so fucking hot, Steve? What the fuck?" His face is on fire, but Steve just laughs – nope, there's that giggle again – and kisses Eddie's forehead.

Eddie's pretty sure he's melting, but honestly? Worth it.

"I don't know if you've noticed," Steve teases, "but I've actually been working out a lot lately..."

Not even Eddie's lovesickness could protect Steve from the playful smack he gets for that.

"Did I notice?" Eddie huffs. "You're the worst, Harrington."

Steve just smiles and kisses him again.

[trancylovecraft]

Yandere Douma x reader?

(KNY) YANDERE! DOUMA x READER: Headcannons

RECEIPT ✂- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

BARISTA'S NOTE: i entered the nowhere dimension the other day and returned with a forbidden scroll that told me how to homo my text. also WARNING! this thing is LONG. GENDER: Femme FANDOM: Demon Slayer

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Let's see.. Douma! Upper Moon Two? Leader of the Eternal Paradise Cult? Emotionless demon who likes to eat women specifically for their nutritious value?

Oooooo, This is gonna be a tough one for you!

I view Douma as an Obsessive, Clingy, Possessive and Sadistic yandere.

Obsessive in the way that Douma just can't help but get to know everything about you! His beloved! Every little thing you are- Your hobbies- Your personality- The way your eyes flicker when you're overjoyed. All of it is such a drug to him!

Clingy in the way that you must be close to him at all times, It's a need. Douma will always be touching you in some form, Whether it be an arm around your shoulder- You sitting on his lap or your lips on his. Wherever you are- You must be nearby.

Possessive in the way that you're his with no argument. To him, You are his belonging. And as such if he wants to toy around with you then he will, Your reactions to this only serve to amuse him which leads onto our next point.

Sadistic in the way that he just loves to poke and prod at you to get a reaction. He loves to see you squirm, To cry or laugh. It doesn't matter whether it's positive or negative- As long as you react, He'll be just fine.

Whether you view Douma as a product of his upbringing or an evil-to-the-bone bad guy- It doesn't particularly matter.

I'd think the only way he'd ever become truly obsessed is if you yourself somehow spark something in him. A strike of colour in a greyscale.

I see two ways of this occurring.

The first is where you're a member of his cult. Perhaps a rather beautiful or talented one that manages to ensnare his attention. Perhaps something about you stands out from the others, Or maybe you're average- Who knows? All that matters is that you caught his attention.

The second is where you're a demon slayer. Maybe you're a Hashira or a lower ranked slayer, One that just happens to stumble across a massacre caused by our one and only. Maybe you impress him with your skill, Or Douma may want to save you as a snack for later, Only to grow feelings towards you in the coming times.

I'm gonna go with the first.

Okay. So you're a member of The Eternal Paradise Cult! Let's say you were born into this convent, You grew up in this convent. The Buddhist statues and the prayer ceremonies- It's all you've ever known. You worship some immortal figure with red eyes, Preached to you by your convent's prophet, Douma.

Douma is a rather unfamiliar figure to you. For one, You barely see him- Not having spoken a word to him at all! You only see him during ceremonies and occasionally on night-time walks.

You're described by your fellow men and women of faith as a woman with a sweet and demure nature. You're known for the way you can bond with a Shamisen, How your fingers run across the strings and you can serenade crowds in an instant.

But you don't perform for the cult, Not like some of the other girls- No.

You much prefer to keep your talent's to yourself, Maybe play a private concert if another member asked you nicely enough. Despite the constant praise- You don't particularly think that you're good enough to perform, Let alone for his grace!

Maybe one day if you improve.. Perhaps someday..

Douma himself is a man of the arts. He enjoys dancing, He has women flock to him to play their music for him. Tapestries of fine colour hang from every wall in the convent.

So it's safe to say as he's taking a stroll through one of the more secluded area's of the convent, He pauses once he hears such a beautiful melody.

Now Douma, Despite his penchant for the Arts- Isn't particularly moved by it. Though he enjoys the tune of a biwa or a koto, Enjoys the colours upon a pallet- Nothing really touches his heart, Nothing really makes him feel much as usual.

However there was something about this tune, Something about the way that shamisen was being strum.. It was interesting for him, It was a tune he hadn't ever heard in his centuries of living..

So he slides open the shoji door, Stepping inside as his eyes search the room..

To land on you.

You sat there on your knees, The shamisen delicately cradled within your arms as you tug at the strings with a pick. It was such a strong yet gentle tune you hummed along to, Not quite noticing him yet, Too invested within your instrument to care about your surroundings.

Douma finds it rather.. Amusing. Yes. That was the word. He stood there, His golden fan splayed across his mouth to conceal the expression laid upon his face. The music was so much more.. Poignant now that he was closer.

You're jolted out of your trance by the clearing of a throat.

You turn around with a mild expression, Ready to greet and/or apologise for the noise to whatever person that walked in here- Only to come face to face with the founder himself.

"O-Oh my- Your grace! I didn't notice your presence, I apologise-"

You quickly set your shamisen to the side, Lowering down so that your forehead kissed the tatami mats, Bowing to him in deep respect. Your heart thunders in your chest, Still reeling from the shock of seeing him there.

Douma finds that funny, The fan fluttering over his face to conceal the amusement on his face. He steps forward, Telling you to raise your head in such a kind and friendly voice.

He tells you that he had been on a stroll when he heard such beautiful noise. He asks you if you were the one to play it, Even though he already knows the answer to it.

You blush in embarrassment, Nodding your head as you gesture down to your shamisen. You feel both flattered and awkward that he had heard you play, And even call it beautiful..!

Douma asks you to play again, So you do. By the end of it he's clapping, Smiling, Telling you how the gods have blessed you with a talent none other has. He invites you to play for him tonight, Telling you that you should join the girls that do it on the regular.

And you- Of course- Aren't one to deny his grace, Are you? Especially since he had taken the time out of his day to listen to your music and call it beautiful..

So tonight you play for him, You do the best you can.

And that's how it is.

You join his little group of women who play for him each night and admittedly you enjoy it. Douma himself takes a rather keen liking to your talents, So do the other girls in your group.

Suddenly in your solitary life you gain much more friends, More recognition for your talents. Douma makes sure to keep you as one of his best musicians, Something that makes you so excited- To be so favoured by His Grace..!

And at some point, He promotes your status even higher to become apart of his harem. You have such a pretty face after all, And hey, There's a new space ever since he accidentally ate another girl who was apart of the harem. So don't worry about crowding him!

Your quick rise through the ranks of Eternal Paradise surprises you and your friends. All of this happens so fast- But you don't question it to Douma, His judgement is absolute of course! He's a messenger of the gods, So of course this all must be natural..!

It's difficult to say where he grows an obsession.

Though I'd say that it comes all at once, Douma has not point where it begins to 'grow', No, One moment he could be acting just as he usually does and the next he could be on his knees, Pupils in heart shapes as he fawns over you like a lovesick puppy.

Though I doubt he would actually show it, Though that's certainly how he feels on the inside when it does happen. Douma keeps these new emotions in check, Only really letting the 'louder' parts of it out in private.

But lets say that this obsession happens months into you joining his harem. You haven't gotten intimate with him yet to your surprise.

Lets say that during a festival down in the nearby village of Hiyohara- A celebration that your convent celebrates with the upmost favour is occurring once more. It's a favoured holiday of yours- A time you love and cherish while spending it with your family.

But somehow this time you end up with Douma, Maybe because you became lost in the crowd and just lingered near the familiar figure of His Grace. Maybe he let you accompany him, Even though he had no care for you at this point in time.

Maybe he saw it as entertainment, Maybe you amuse him.

But either way you're with him now, Wandering around the festival in Hiyohara, Following him to try out whatever he chooses to do.

But somehow- Things develop.

As you're wandering around, Following him along- You trip.

Your foot gets caught on a rock, Your eyes barely being able to widen before you faceplant dead into a puddle caused by last nights rain.

Your clothing is ruined, Your face is covered in muck. You're not injured but you push yourself up on bruised elbows. Douma flicks his fan across his face, Concealing

He expects you to feel ashamed- To break down in embarrassment- You were with him after all, All his cultists would never-

But you don't.

You don't break down or seem ashamed to have embarrassed yourself in front of him, No- Instead you laugh. You begin to giggle, Smiling as you wipe the mud off your face and swipe it off your hair- Saying how clumsy you were for tripping.

Your laugh.

It was music to him.

To see that unaltered- Raw- Human emotion displayed on your face was enrapturing to him and he had no idea why. The way your eyes lit up, The way your grin stretched from ear to ear in a shameless mirth before him.

For some reason- Douma felt his heart begin to thump in his chest.

As soon as you get up you notice how he has gone rigid, Completely solid as if he was frozen in time. You can see how his expression just looks absolutely shocked, His usually pale- Stark white skin beginning to redden around the face.

You don't understand what was happening.

Douma on the other hand was going through what was almost a religious experience. Suddenly he notices the world around him, His heart pounding, His eyes widening. He can feel sensations flooding through his chest- His cheeks and his heart.

He feels alive.

And it all came from.. You?

Douma in the following days/weeks definetly changes his behaviour. For the first time in his centuries old life he feels love- He feels joy- Excitement even! He can barely believe it, Almost in denial at first.

At it all occurs when he's around you. You.

Douma doesn't question stuff like this, Stuff he see's as silly. But what he also sees is you, How wonderful you are- How much you bring out this addictive emotion inside of him. He doesn't care how you did it- Not in the slightest.

Douma definetly begins to get much more favourable towards you, Even more so than before. Every night you will play your music for him and he will listen, All the while his eyes trail across your face, Your body. All admiring with a gleam in his eyes.

Expect him to make much more appearances where you are. His smile on his face as he makes his way towards you, Ignoring the shocked looks of the other cultists who can't believe that His Grace has shown up amongst them.

Douma definetly gets more touchy, More friendly with you. A hand on your shoulder? An arm around your waist? If he's feeling ballsy then maybe a small kiss on the corner of your lips as he leans down towards your ear to tell you what music he wants you to play for him later.

You don't question the intimacy- No, You're apart of his harem, That's to be expected but..

Think of this all as an experimentation stage for Douma. What he's doing, His intimacy and his extra time with you is to make sure that what he's feeling comes from you and you alone- Not some other factor changing that.

And once he gets his results?

Yeah. No. He's hooked.

I'd say up until this point everything is relatively normal with him, Well- As normal as you can get with Douma but I digress. You go about your daily life, Play music for him each night while Douma continues to feast on his cultists as ceremonial practice all the while his mind lingers to you.

But that doesn't last for very long.

As Douma takes one of his daily walks through the halls of the convent- A habit he picked up out of boredom during the day- He pauses.

Douma was stopped beside a corner, Looking out through an open door to see two figures standing within the sun-soaked gardens. He can't really see who it is at first, Considering that both backs were turned but..

One of them- He could tell it was you.

You were giggling, Admiring the prospering plant life around you as you stood next to some unknown figure. You were almost brushing shoulders with him, A smile on your face as you looked at him, Your shamisen held delicately in your hands.

In any other scenario, Douma wouldn't care about what was going on- He wouldn't even bat an eye but-

You were too close to him, Yes, Douma thought. You smiled at him so brightly that it felt like the sun was sizzling at Douma's skin. You seemed happy to be there with.. With that man. You had your shamisen, Did you play it for him..?

Oh no.

Oh no no.

Douma felt his eye twitch. Felt his innards begin to turn and his blood run even colder than it ever did.

What was this?

This feeling in his stomach that made the rest of him feel as frozen as ice.

Why were you with him?

Who was he?

Shouldn't you be back inside out of the sun, Where he was? Away from whatever human man was talking to you so freely right now.

He could just rip his guts out right now, Would you like that? He could just tear and tear away at his flesh for you if you wanted, Would that get you away from that man and back to him?

Douma didn't like this new feeling in his veins. He grasped at his stomach, His eyes widening as he felt his body react to this disgusting sensation. He didn't like this feeling. He didn't like it one bit.

Douma's smile is near contorted on his face as he watches the two of you walk away amongst the gardens. He near keels over, Holding on the corner for support.

He didn't like this feeling.

He didn't like how you talked to that man so freely.

...

That man.

It's a day like any other, At least that's how it starts out. You wake up in your room as usual, Get dressed, Do your hair and makeup before walking out into the hallways to head to breakfast.

As apart of Douma's harem, You're allowed to take partners other than him, Douma isn't usually jealous so the rest of his harem tend to have partners of their own.

You too, Have followed in their footsteps as you met another cult member that you hit it off with. He seemed to enjoy your music, Laugh at your jokes and vice versa. He was a nice guy, Someone you got along with well.

And it was obvious you both shared looks between each other.

So as you enter the breakfast hall it comes as a shock to hear that he had ran away during the night. It's heresy to the convent to forsake your religion by running away, You had just seen him yesterday and he was plenty faithful then so-

Why had he ran?

You ask Douma about this but he just waves you off with a saddened look across his face, Saying that some people just aren't able to be enlightened, That they stray from the path.

And you believe him. Of course you do.

He's your leader after all.

Soon after that things change.

Douma has requested that you now sleep with him in his quarters, A move that has shocked both you and the rest of the faithful. The rest of the harem has never gotten the privileges of sleeping in the same bed with him, Even after 'session's per se.

Douma requests your presence much more often, Always disguising it as wanting to hear you play your shamisen but it always ends up with a cup of sake and a conversation.

His physical touch becomes much more intimate now, Much more public. A kiss on the lips is common, His hands squeezing your cheeks like you're the cutest thing even more so.

He views other humans as cattle, But not you- No.

It's a shock to find out that one day during a sermon, Douma declares that the gods have sent him a wife. An eternal lover. It's even more shocking when his eyes lock on yours, Telling everyone that it is you who the gods have declared to be his partner.

You're absolutely shocked, But also terrified.

You can't be sent by the gods. You just.. Couldn't.

You're showered in gifts by the cult, Praised and honoured as the God's new gift to them but all you can think of is how.. Fake this all seems. The way Douma looked at you during his declaration, Something about it seemed so.. Wrong.

Something wasn't right.

Douma himself is thrilled to have this work out for him. Declaring that you were chosen by the God's worked well- Made sure that you wouldn't try to go for anyone else as well.. You're no longer apart of his harem, You're promised to him and him alone.

Having other romantic interests is out of the question now.

If you do show signs, Any at all, Of being interested in another man..

You'll be told they've ran away during the night- Or got chosen for the next Ascension.

That reasoning doesn't seem to make sense anymore.

Expect Douma to be with you at all times now, Your ability to go wherever you pleased in the convent revoked in favour of staying in his quarters with him. If you want to go out you must be with him.

He lives through your emotions. If you're sad, He's sad. If you're happy, He's happy. He feeds off of your feelings like a parasite, You're something he can invest what rotten soul he has into.

Which is why he tries to make you as happy as possible.

You want food? Delivered with the finest of cutlery. You want expensive clothes? Your closet is filled to the brim the next day. You want jewellery? Made with the largest of gems and polished until it hurts the eye.

Even if you're humble and don't want the richest of things- You'll get it anyways. Douma can't have his wife- A woman declared to be sent from their god walking around in 'rags' now can he?

When sleeping in his bed expect to be the small spoon. When you are, Douma holds you just a bit too close to him, His nose buried in your hair. Even when you're fast asleep he's wide awake.

He leaves after a while to do as he usually does, But he always spends an unordinary amount of time just laying with you.

You bathe with him now in his private bathhouse. Douma love to take baths in sake so you'll be doing the same with him, Often times on his lap. It's up to your imagination what happens afterwards.

He also enjoys dancing so he'd expect you to try learn some. Even though it's not your forte (That belonging to music-) You try your best to keep up with him, Nervously now.

He doesn't let you talk to nobody anymore, No one that's not the monks or a very trusted group of people that Douma approves of.

You're now to be worshipped along with him as a gift from the gods, Offerings given to both you and Douma now.

Douma I think may actually try to drink some of your blood- Perhaps collecting it while you slept or bringing it up as a sort of 'ritual' for lovers that you've "just not heard of."

Once he does get a hold of your blood, Expect him to savour it like ambrosia, The taste better than marechi as he eagerly sips away at it.

He'd turn you into a demon at some point, However not now as he still values your human qualities. Douma still wishes to keep you like this until the day comes where he decides to immortalise you as a demon.

If you try to bring up your doubts to Douma about being sent from the gods, Douma will try to convince you that you were- Your beauty- Your skills- All of this was made for him.

It's an honour to be with him.

You agree, Right?

Douma, Despite his lack of emotions can read you like a book. He can tell that you're growing suspicious, That you've got a gut feeling that something was wrong. He tries to tell you that it's just jitters..

If you ever find out about Douma's demonic nature..

Screaming, Crying, Throwing up. You're horrified, Absolutely petrified that you've been worshipping a demon your entire life without even knowing about it. You gave gifts to him, You praised him, You worshipped him-

The amount of people he must've eaten- The amount of lives he must've taken-!

Trying to run away would be insanely- And I mean insanely difficult. The convent is already guarded to keep people in and with you there is extra supervision not just from the monks but Douma himself too.

The only way I ever see you actually escaping would be playing the long game and doing it during the daytime, But I'm talking about years here- Douma can read you, If he suspects you of not being all that devoted to him then he'll know.

If you actually do succeed in escaping then Douma would go insane. And I mean it. He'd slaughter members of his cult in a rage, His talons tearing through their skin like paper as he rampages.

This emotion is new to him after all- Anger, Desperation. All of this is so incredibly potent because of it, No one to keep him in check since you escaped.

If you thought him discovering Jealousy was bad..

Douma would get a hold of himself after a while however, No- Douma is an intelligent demon. He's conniving and collected, He just lost it for a little bit.. Just a bit. Don't worry, He's back to normal.. He's collected himself.

Douma will never stop looking for you. Members of his cult may even be dispatched to look for you while he does so at night-time. Your scent is memorised in his head, He'll follow whatever trail he can get- He'll track you down one way or another.

He presents himself as less-than-good at tracking- However that all changes when it comes to you.

If he finds you, You'll be dragged back kicking and screaming all the while Douma has that same smile on his face. He's passive aggressive for sure, Making sure you hurt yourself in your struggle all the while demeaning you.

If you were hiding out in any town or village then Douma will massacre everyone and anyone in your vicinity. He'll drag their corpses back with him too, Food for later- Food for your transformation.

You'll become a demon, Douma is not loosing you again. He'll cut open his arm and hold you down, Forcing you to drink his blood- Knowing that Muzan will accept this new demon as the last two turned out to be promising.

He'll make you eat the bodies of the people you use to love- Your friends, Your family. All the while telling you that this is what happens when you try to disobey him in such a happy tune.

Despite how fake he seems, He really is genuine when he tells you how much he loves you- How overjoyed he is to have you back.

All the while wiping the blood off your lips with his thumb.

Leaning in to kiss you surrounded by the flesh of dozens.

[goquokka00]

The Little Things (Changbin Ver.)

The small things he does every day that make you feel oh, so special.

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin Jisung | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

| Piggy-Back Rides |

We all know that Changbin is strong. That's not really a secret to anyone who's a stay. And knowing this sweet man, he'd give you piggy-back rides whenever. In fact, I'm almost certain he'd just randomly come up to you and be like, "Hey, want me to carry you?" I just think it's a Binnie thing.

Now, if he knew that your feet were killing you, or you had a random pain in your leg? You bet your ass that he's not letting you walk. Nope. He's picking you up piggy-back style and carrying you wherever you want to go. You can whine and complain about how its not that bad, or how you can still walk, but he's not setting you down. Nope. If his baby girl's lower half isn't doing well, she's not walking. End of story.

I also kind of feel like if you both went out drinking with friends and you got tipsy, or if you were tired, he'd carry you then, too. Just in case you were to fall or stumble. He wants you safe at all times, no matter what condition you're in.

| Lays His Head on Your Lap |

Again, we all know that Changbin, who can seem intimidating, is really this big teddy bear who wants to just love and be loved. And that includes using your lap as his pillow. It's probably his favorite pillow if we're being honest. Your skin is so smooth, and your muscle just feels so nice under his head.

If you both are on the couch watching a movie or just relaxing, his head will more than likely be on your lap. He'll do it whenever he pleases, honestly. But if he's exhausted after being in the studio all day, writing music, he'll take you by your hand and will literally drag you to the couch just so he can lay down on your lap.

He's 100% fallen asleep on your legs, too. Most of the time, it's because you're gently scratching his scalp and running your hands through his hair. That, paired with your smell and the plushness of your legs just lets him relax to the point where he just clocks out. Not that you care. He's absolutely adorable like that.

| Hugs From Behind |

You guys, this man is so sweet and cute and adorable. That's why I'm a firm believer that Changbin will always approach you from behind just to wrap his arms around your waist, pull you back against him, hold you close, and rest his head on your shoulder or head (at least, if he's taller than you lol).

Changbin will do this literally whenever he can. If you're cooking something, he'll give you that back hug while watching you cook and ask what you're making (and he might steal some food, too). If you're at a gathering, he'll hug you from behind and just rest against you while you're conversing with someone. Whether it's because he just loves you or he's getting jealous, he's doing it regardless.

But he'll definitely back hug you when he's jealous. He'll hold you tighter than usual (the dead give-away that he's jealous to you), and while you're talking with whoever is making Changbin jealous, he'll shoot a death glare at them, almost telling that person you're his. And that way, you won't see him being all menacing (even though you're fully aware of it).

| Playful Arguments |

Alright. We know Changbin is loud. And I feel like the playful arguments would be an excuse for him to be loud with you. You guys do it all the time, no matter where you are and who might be with you. Half the time, it isn't even arguments. It's Changbin whining about something loudly, and then you yelling at him to stop, and Changbin just whining louder.

"I'm hungry!" "I told you to eat before we left, Binnie!" "YOU WERE RUSHING ME THOUGH!" "Was not!" "WERE TOO! CAN WE PLEASE JUST STOP?!" "No! You're just gonna have to wait until after we're done with our errands!" "BUT I'M HUNGRY!"

Half the time, it is because Changbin is hungry. Other times, it's literally about the dumbest shit ever. Most of the time, when you both are "arguing" around the other Kids, they just laugh and claim that you both are like an old married couple. And that usually makes Changbin get louder and complain that he's not old.

| Makes SURE You Eat |

It's no secret to anyone that Changbin loves food. It's the most important thing to him after you. And that usually results in Changbin constantly checking in on you to make sure you've eaten something. He'll ask in person, or he'll text you while you're at work. If you haven't, he's going to pick something up for you and drop it off so you can eat.

Now, let's say you are someone who tends to just...not eat. Maybe you've never been into eating breakfast in the mornings, or you don't eat lunch because you want to just get some work done during your lunch break. Changbin will snap you out of that habit REAL quick.

Guys, I'm not kidding you. He will spam your phone every 3 minutes saying, "EAT," or "Baby you gotta eat something. If you don't, I'm gonna pick up something for you and force it down your throat 😡." And if he does bring you something, he'll literally sit with you and make sure you eat everything. And if you can't finish, he'll eat whatever you can't. Why? Because it's Changbin.

Hey! Firstly, thank you so much for reading this post, and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please like, reblog, or comment so I can see how I'm doing with writing and getting feedback! I hope you have a lovely day! Sleep well, stay in good health, and eat something if you haven't! ❤️❤️❤️

[danveration]

Could you do a Cooper Howard x reader angst? Something with the reader getting injured or dying and/ or becoming a ghoul?

You and your stories are amazing btw❤️!!!

Thank you!

Parings: Cooper Howard x reader

Summary: You get shot and Cooper comes to your aid.

Word count: 1344

Warnings: Guns, blood, shooting, reader getting shot in the thigh, Cooper being a softy

A/N: sorry if you meant post-nuclear bomb. (if you wanted cooper howard like.. normal human & stuff) ALSO I JUST REALIZED THIS ISN'T VERY ANGSTY 😭😭 FFS. I hope you like it either way :))

It was a hectic situation. There were at least ten people pointing guns directly at you from all around. This was not how you expected your day to go. You didn’t even do anything remotely wrong. Just stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time. Which was pretty common around here.

You were by yourself right now, which was another downfall. You didn’t have the capabilities yet to kill a bunch of people on your own. Maybe if you sweet talked them..? You doubt that would work. If only Cooper were here. He would have them all dead in a blink of an eye. Especially because they were threatening you. He seemed to have a soft spot for you for whatever reason. You felt the same way towards him. Even though people would look at you like you’re insane, you don’t care. You can see something in him that nobody else can. He always had a bit of a protective nature towards you the moment you two met. You thought he would’ve killed you, but he just laughed at how scared you looked and ensured that he doesn’t kill without a motive. And in his words “won’t dare harm a pretty thing like you.”

He is currently god knows where. You were tagging along with him but he went to go get more vials. He said he knows a spot where he can snag a couple. That was about two hours ago. It would be great if he just miraculously appeared right now.

“L-listen. I don’t want any trouble, okay? I’m just passing through.” You say, trying to sound brave but the whimper in your voice made itself known.

“Yeah, passing through OUR territory.” One of the men said, with a raspy tone.

“I didn’t know! I’ll go. Right now.” You say quickly, starting to move forward.

“Uh-uh!” One of them yelled.

You hear all their guns go off safely and you stop dead in your tracks. The panic and fear you feel makes your skin develop goosebumps.

“We can’t let you go, can we? What kind of example would we be settin’ if we did?” One of them spoke.

“Oh, just walk right into our territory, It’s all good!! It wouldn't be our territory if we did that, would it?” One of them say in a mocking tone.

“P-please. I just-“ You begin to say.

“Now what on hells creation is goin’ on here?” You hear no other than Cooper’s voice in the other direction.

You subconsciously release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

All the people snap their heads to the ghouls voice. Some of them look scared, but some of them look angry that their fun got spoiled.

“Well? Gonna keep gawking or is somebody going to tell me what the fucks goin’ on here?” He says.

“W-well we caught this one roaming on our territory.” One of the people spoke up.

“And?” Cooper questions them, as if daring them to say what they were going to do to you.

They’re all silent. Except for one. He must be new here or something because he speaks up in an angry tone, “and were gonna kill them.” He says, pointing the gun at you. He looks around at all his other gang members, and how they’re not pointing the gun at you anymore.

He raised a brow, “what’s the big idea? Why’s nobody else-“

BANG

Cooper shoots the man in the arm, not letting him finish his sentence.

Everything went slow from there. You see Cooper giving the man cold eyes, and then from your vision, you see the man look down at his arm, then you see him, with his other hand, grab his gun and quickly shoot you in your thigh before Cooper sends another bullet straight through his head, leaving him instantly falling to the ground.

You hiss out in pain and look down, seeing red liquid gush out and stain your pants.

Cooper whips his head towards you.

“Fuckin’-“ He mumbles as he rushes over, getting on his knees in front of you.

Everyone around immediately makes a quick exit, not wanting to suffer the same fate as the other guy.

Cooper would’ve killed them all for that, if it wasn’t for him not wanting to take his eyes or attention off of you. He feels scared, worried, mad, and mostly desperate. Desperate to stop the bleeding, desperate to go back in time and never leave you alone in the first place. He would laugh at himself for feeling these feelings any other time, just not now. Now he has to focus all his attention on you.

“Is it bad?” You mumble out to him, not wanting to fully look at it.

Cooper thankfully notices how it isn’t in a vital place. The bullet went right through, so he doesn’t have to worry about digging it out or it causing complications.

“Well you got shot, sweetheart. It’s bad but it isn’t deadly. You’ll be alright.” He says, trying to ease the worry off of you.

He’s got to get you to a safe spot so he can properly treat the wound. Luckily he has lots of experience with these kinds of situations.

He stands up and leans down, putting his arm behind your knees, lifting you up and carrying you bridal style.

Your eyes go wide and you gasp in shock, but don’t complain. You don’t think you can walk anyhow.

Your cheeks flush and you feel a swell in your heart from his actions. He walks in silence, his brain wracking at how he shouldn’t have left you alone, and how he swears to make sure this won’t happen again. You’re in his arms, hurting, but for some reason you swear it hurts a little less because he’s close to you.

“This won’t never happen again, I swear it. You better be more cautious around these parts though, darlin’. Especially with me not around. People don’t give no mercy.” He says to you.

A little while later, you’re sitting on a mattress in an abandoned building. Your pants are pulled down a bit on one side, so he has access to the wounded leg. Cooper carefully cleaning and wrapping up your wound with a concentrated face. You stare at him and how his eyes look, how his forehead is frowned down in focus, and how his hands are handling you carefully, as if they aren’t used on a daily basis for killing and violence.

“You’re lucky it’s in this spot. A little to the left or right, and you might’ve not been able to use this leg again. Would’ve had to get you those robot leg attachments.” He says, laughing at the end of his sentence.

“You mean the ones that practically rip your leg to shreds? No thanks.” You say, laughing.

You look at him softly as he’s smiling gently, while finishing up wrapping your leg.

“Now would you look at that? All better.” He says, gesturing to your skillfully wrapped leg.

“Thank you, Coop.” You say. “I’m really lucky you came in time.”

“Well, I’d argue I was a tad bit late, but of course, darlin’. I’m glad I got there before things could’ve gotten worse.” He says back to you, adjusting his hat on his head.

He cares about you. It realized that right when he heard that gun shot go in your direction. His heart sank to his stomach immediately, thinking the worse. He’s going to make sure to keep a tight leash on you from now on out. Not in a bad way, just in a way that he’s able to be there if anything happens.

“Thank you, Cooper.” You say softly out of nowhere, looking at him with a bit of blush on your cheeks.

He nods his head in your direction. “You’re quite welcome, sweetheart. Now why don’t you be a doll and rest up. I might’ve wrapped it all neat n’ all, but you’ll still need to let it heal. We can take a couple hours break here."

[lesbianrobin]

lesbianrobin fic scraps #5: you construct intricate rituals to be lifted by other men

"You do know that you have curly hair, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Eddie says, yanking a brush through his hair and wincing at the ripping sound.

"So you're destroying it on purpose? It's, like, a metal thing?"

"Huh?"

"Do you even use conditioner?"

"I didn't invite you here so you could heckle me in my own home."

Steve leans against the front door, all casual like he hangs out in Eddie's living room all the time. "You didn't invite me here, I came to pick you up and you weren't ready. Also, I'm not heckling," Steve says, "Just observing. You don't, do you?"

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Eddie says, “It’s called two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, asshole.”

Steve lets out a noise that's halfway between a groan and a gasp. "You're joking."

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"Oh my God, you're not joking," Steve mumbles, eyes wide.

Eddie drops his hairbrush on the coffee table and grabs his keys. "Didn't realize I needed perfect hair to ride in Steve Harrington's fancy car."

"No, but you do need shoes."

Eddie looks down.

"Oh," he says. "Yeah, that would probably help."

-

"After this party, you and I are going to the store and getting you some real shampoo and conditioner."

Eddie's still tying his right shoe, seated in the passenger seat of Steve's BMW. "I shudder to think what overpriced garbage you consider the baseline for hair-care products."

“Whine any more and I'm buying you leave-in, too.”

“What's leave-in?”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve says mournfully, looking up at the sky as if asking the man himself to lend some strength before starting his car.

Eddie observes as they pull out of the trailer park. “So, O Great Master of the haircare arts, how did you acquire such knowledge on the demands of curly hair?”

“Did you miss when people called me 'The Hair' for four years?”

“Your hair isn’t curly.”

“What, I’m not allowed to know things?” Steve sounds agitated, and he looks straight ahead at the road, not even glancing at Eddie a little bit as he speaks.

"...Oh, there's a story here!"

"No, there's not."

"The lady doth protest too much," Eddie sings, leaning close to Steve's face. Steve glances at him, though he looks back to the road quickly, shoving Eddie back toward his own seat without looking at him.

"Don't laugh."

"I won't, swear on my life," Eddie lies.

"Alright… so, you know Lucas."

"Yes."

Steve sighs. "Well, you've seen me fuck with Dustin's hair, right? I do it to Max and even Mike sometimes if he doesn't look like he'll bite me, and Lucas, he used to have, like, shorter hair, so you could kinda give him a noogie and it was, like, whatever, but now he's got the flat top and I didn't know if I could, like, touch it without messing it up, yknow? So I went to the library—"

Eddie bursts into laughter.

Steve slams his hands on the steering wheel. "I knew you were gonna laugh!"

"No," Eddie struggles to say between laughs, "No, oh my God, that's the cutest thing I've ever—"

"I fucking hate you," Steve sulks.

He can just see it, is the thing, Steve walking into the library and ringing the little bell and stumbling over his words as he asks the librarian for help finding books about hair. Squinting at the spines of books, checking out a few, carrying them back to his car and dumping them in the passenger seat with a satisfied grin.

"I had to help Dustin with his hair for the Snow Ball, too, and his is curly, so you know, I started with him back then, and then Lucas, and then I just kept reading, and it was…" Steve shrugs. "I don't know, it was cool."

Steve says it nonchalantly. As if that isn't the most precious thing on planet Earth.

"You're so cute," Eddie says, and Steve rolls his eyes, but there's something there, Eddie thinks, something soft and fond in the slight curve of his lips. There's something.

-

This isn't how Eddie had imagined getting Steve's hands on him, but he really can't be mad about it.

“Alright, alright,” Dustin chants, as Robin hoots and whistles her support.

Someone begins pounding on the table repeatedly.

“Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve!” Lucas begins the chant and Max joins in, followed shortly by Robin and Dustin. Mike looms over Eddie with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“No pressure, Harrington,” Eddie says.

“Man, shut up,” Steve replies, and starts to push.

Astoundingly, Eddie rises.

“Oh, shit,” he says, tensing his body as much as he can. Steve would never drop him, but Eddie might not have the abdominal muscles required to keep himself from toppling off to the side.

The Steve chant gets louder and faster, more hands pounding on tables and feet stomping on the floor. Mike is clearly trying so hard to look unimpressed, but his eyes just keep getting wider as Eddie rises higher and finally reaches the peak, Steve's arms extended as much as they can without locking out, and he holds Eddie aloft for a few seconds, and Eddie wishes more than anything that he could see Steve's face right now. Steve begins to lower him down, and god, this was all over too fast, and Eddie's heart is pounding like crazy, so loud in his ears that it almost drowns out all of their friends' raucous screaming.

“What in the hell is all this racket?”

Eddie startles, almost falling, but Steve digs his fingers in, and holy shit Eddie's going up again, and then he's coming down, and how is Steve this strong?

“Two,” Dustin calls out, “Holy shit!”

As Eddie goes up again, Nancy explains, “Steve said he can bench, like, two hundred pounds or something, and Eddie said he bet Steve couldn't even lift him and he's about one-seventy—”

“One-sixty, Wheeler,” Eddie calls out, and then he's coming back down again and Steve says, “I don't know, feels more like one-eighty.”

“Oh, screw you.”

“Three!”

"...Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve..!"

“Huh.” Mike's dad almost sounds impressed. “Well, keep it down, your sister's trying to do her homework.”

Mike snorts. “Holly's homework is coloring.”

“Hey, don’t knock coloring,” Eddie says. It’s hard to sound normal, with Steve’s hands pressing into his back and thighs, but he’s pretty sure he’s managing it. “It’s a noble and honored tradition, Wheeler, one of humanity’s oldest pursuits. Art is—”

“Four!”

"...Steve, Steve..!"

“—what makes life worth living, after all.”

Steve grunts with effort, making Eddie’s chest seize up, but he rises for the fifth time. Someone says, “Jesus Christ,” but Eddie’s not sure who.

“Mike, maybe you could ask Steve here to take you to the gym sometime.”

“Dad,” Mike groans.

“And five!” Dustin begins to clap as soon as Eddie’s back down. The hooligans abandon pounding on the table to cheer, hooting and hollering with all of the enthusiasm of an adventuring party confronted with a chest full of riches.

“Alright, get off of me,” Steve grunts, and Eddie acquiesces, rolling to the side and leaping to his feet. God, he could scale a mountain right now. Eddie turns to look at Steve, and holy shit, actually, he could not scale a mountain right now, because his heart would explode. Lying on his back, face slightly flushed, arms splayed out and hair messy, Steve looks utterly obscene. To be fair, Steve always looks obscene, but Eddie can still feel the phantoms of Steve's hands pressing against him, and he holds a hand out without thinking. Steve takes it, leveraging himself up in a way that nearly has Eddie toppling down onto the floor next to him, but they manage to both stay standing.

"What do I owe you, again?"

"You guys forgot to actually bet anything," Dustin says helpfully.

"Shit," Steve sighs, letting go of Eddie's hand to put his hands on his hips.

"Maybe you could get me that hair crap you were talking about earlier."

"I win, and my reward is that I get to buy you things?"

"Yep," Eddie says. He can feel himself smiling, so wide that it's almost embarrassing, but he can't help it. Steve is smiling, too.

Steve eyes his hair, and apparently he's distressed enough by what he sees to sigh and say, "Shit, alright. But you have to use it exactly how I show you, asshole."

Eddie puts one hand on his heart and the other in the air. "Scout's honor."

[3vergr3en]

THAT BOY IS A MONSTER 👻

PAIRING (📞) . collegeau!maki x fem!college!reader

A/N (🔪) . heyy.. hii... please forgive my absence with this maki fic 😣🤲🏼 I feel like a bummy boyfriend begging for my girlfriend (you guys) to take me back 😭 I also wanted to bring some closure to my old ethan landry series with this fic (you shall be forever missed.) ANYWAY. HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS HALLOWEEN SPECIAL <3

ADDITIONAL INFO (🩸) . this fic contains suggestive content!! there will be NO p in v, literally all they do is have a (detailed) heated make-out. DON'T CRUCIFY ME 😭🙏🏼

The red-haired man leans his upper body over the granite counter, "What did he say?" he yells over the blaring music.

"He'll be here in a half an hour!" You yell back, receiving a confirming nod from the male across from you. As Nicholas turns his head away to presumably check out the girls in short mini skirts and corsets, you gently tug at the hem of his sleeve to avert his attention back onto you, "I'm gonna use the bathroom! Oh, and can you grab me a drink, pleaaasee?"

"Sure, but don't be surprised if it tastes weird." He sends you a warning smile before he walks off in his rainbow-stripped long-sleeve and blue overalls. He yells to a person, "Yo! Put that shit down before I throw you out myself!" You still don't know how the guys manage to convince Nicholas to dress up as Chucky, but either way, you loved it.

"Excuse me! Sorry- just let me pass through, thank you!" You squeezed past through the crowded kitchen and down the hallway. Miraculously, you managed to find an unoccupied bathroom which was usually filled with couples making out or in some cases,, a little more. You walk in, shutting the door behind you with a click! But you were just thankful enough to have one all to yourself.

knock knock knock

Oh, you gotta be shitting me.

"It's occupied, sorry!" You shout, fixing your blonde wig in the mirror.

knock knock knock

You curse out, "Oh my fucking god." Shuffling your way over to the door, you unlock it before swinging it open with an annoyed expression. "I said it was-" You stop mid-sentence when you see the famous white mask and black cloak. Okay.. creepy. "Sorry, Mr. Ghostface, but this bathroom is occupied." You sigh, taking a step back to close the door.

But a firm grip on the side of the door halts it. You stumble backward, "Dude, what the fuck?" The person pries it open before walking in, slamming the door behind them with a click. "This isn't funny, you need to get out. Now."

But the person just.. stands there. No words. No movement.

"Alright, this is bullshit." You sigh, "I'm just gonna go." You begin to walk past the person, but they forcefully grab you by your arms, and with that familiar raspy voice, they speak, "Dressed as Casey Becker? How convenient." They tilt their head with a chuckle as you manage to push them off of you.

"Nicholas!" You yell, but you know that it is no use against the loud music outside. You take several steps backward till your back is pressed up against the wall behind you, leaving you cornered. "Nicholas isn't coming to save you." They state.

The person takes a step closer till they're practically right up against you, feeling your heart beating rapidly against their chest. "So, you got a boyfriend?" They taunt, lifting their hand to your chin, forcing you to look up at them.

They reach up behind their head to swiftly yank the mask off. Once they did, they shook their head to reveal your boyfriend who smiled sickeningly.

It takes you a little bit to let the realization sink in, but when it does, your immediate response is to shove your boyfriend as hard as you can. "You fucking jerk!" You curse.

Maki couldn't help but laugh hysterically. "Hey, I'm sorry, okay? But don't lie, you were lowkey enjoying it." He chuckles, cradling you in his arms as he presses kisses on your forehead.

"No, I didn't." But you knew deep down that he was right.

He nods, not believing a word you just said. "Do you like the costume?" He asks with a slight raise of eyebrows, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. "..Yeah, I do." You quietly confess.

He has this cocky smirk plastered on his face, "Yeah?" His voice had gotten deeper as his eyes were glued to your lips. And you shamelessly did the same, eyes staring at your boyfriend's plump, pink lips.

"Well, I think we both know that you like it a little more than you think.." He whispers against your lips before moving to your ear, "Why else didn't you push me away when I was right up against you earlier?"

As if your hands had a mind of their own, they grabbed the collar of your boyfriend's cloak to pull him in so you could smash your lips against his.

You can feel your boyfriend's hands gripping your waist through your bulky sweater, pulling your hips to be flush against his. "Up." You hear him muffle in between kisses as he taps your thigh. You quickly obliged, hopping up to wrap your legs around his waist while his hands held you up by your thighs.

He brings you over to the bathroom sink, resting you on top of the marbled counter. His lips never seem to leave yours, not even for a split moment.

"Maki," You breathe out, hands finding their way into his black, soft locks.

Everything was so messy. The way he kissed you feverishly, almost like he had gone days without having your lips on his. His big hands holding the back of your head, causing your wig to slip off. Or maybe it's the fact that seeing your boyfriend in a Ghostface costume has done wonders for you.

His lips trailed down your lips to your chin, planting open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. He breathlessly chuckles, "I find it cute how we accidentally matched costumes."

"You need to wear that Ghostface mask more often."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

[celestialhole]

Dad!Price headcanons

Warnings: OOC maybe? Slight mentions of sex like one but other than it's just a grumpy man and his chaotic lil' baby ❤️.

Boydad!Price!! Hello?? We need more of this in the world! I also headcanoned his middle name as Andrew, it doesn't have to be his middle name in your world it is in mine. 🤷‍♂️

He was sitting in his home, in his office looking over reports when he got the call his child was being born. He picked his phone up without looking at it and heard his mother's voice, "Johnathan Andrew Price, If you don't bring your ass back home right now." His body stiffened and he froze. Price blinked before speaking, "Mum.. Did somethin' happen?" He looked back down at his papers and started writing again. "It's your child John! Im at the hospital with (your name) and it's happening today, and Im confused as to why you're not here?!" His mother spoke through the phone. Price almost jumped out of his skin, he dropped his pen and immediately started gathering his shit. Next thing he knew he had a little baby boy, wrapped with a white blanket and a little blue beanie on his head as he wailed in Price's arms while sweating from the long, fast-paced journey it took for him to get here on time.

His mother definitely took pictures of him crying and holding his newborn son.

I have a feeling Price handled fatherhood with ease. He had the baby car seat already in his car before his son was born, had the baby carrier already, and bought loads of diapers. If you weren't breastfeeding he's already bought baby formula and everything. Mans is prepared for the worst. His son tugs on his mutton chops while Price is feeding him, and he does it for his own comfort so when Price tries to detach those baby fingers from his beard his child starts making that little face and those soft cries that always melt his heart. He sighs, brings the hand back up to his beard and watches as his son stops crying, and goes back to tugging on his beard.

Of course, he has to take long measurements to make are you and your kid's safety is assured given his reputation and the many enemies he has made over his years in the SAS. You live in one of those towns where everyone basically knows each other, it's a small community buts it's safer than a big city. I can imagine Price's mother lecturing his parental skills each time he comes to visit her with her grandbaby in arms. You and her always bonded over teasing Price and now here she is cooing to your crying son like, "I know baby, I know.. Shhh.. John why are you feedin' him those weird crackers?! He needs food!" She shouted to her son, "I JUST FED HIM!" John shouted from downstairs.

When he's on deployment you send him videos and photos and you and your son while communications are still on. Price comes back from a successful mission but he's exhausted and once he stumbles to his office he picks up his phone and sees the many videos you had sent to him. A small smile begins to spread across his face as he taps the message and sees a video of you ushering your little boy to walks forward to you. He watches with awe at the sight of his son actually walking towards you with a big smile and loud squealing before he tumbles on the floor and giggles. You're gently cheering him on as he works to stand back up and it isn't long until Price begins to cry, he misses you and his little boy so much and it sucks he isn't there to see these moments with you and be apart of his son's big accomplishments. And that's when something clicked in his head. What's the point of being a father if he's not even gonna be able to be there with his child?

Price did a lot of thinking, looking over the years he had been in the SAS, and the years he had been with you. The times you had both talked about marriage, kids and his possible retirement.

So when Price comes back home he drops his bags and wraps his arms around your waist tightly. His hand caressed your hair before he spoke softly in your ear, "I'm here.. And guess what?" He pulled back and looked at you with that smile you adored oh so much. "I'm stayin' for good this time." His hand on your face and his thumb rubbing your cheek, you looked at him with furrowed brows before you quickly connected the dots. "You.. John— Did you retire?" "Yep, I couldn't handle being separated from you both and those videos and pictures you sent only made me more homesick, I didn't want to leave you here constantly

You jumped up and wrapped your legs around him and your arms around his neck in sheer glee. He laughed and kept his arms wrapped around your waist tightly as he held you with ease. After a few moments of shared kisses, he pulls away and looks around, "Speakin' of, where is the little monster?" "Upstairs in his room, he's probably awake." You replied and were set back on the ground before he quickly walked upstairs and into your son's room where his boy is standing up in his crib. When his son spots him he starts bouncing and lets out a high-pitched "Hi!" as he smiles. One of the words he had learned was 'hi' and always greeted people with a loud hi and a big smile. Price scooped the boy in his arms and began throwing him in the air, he chuckled at his sons' loud giggles and happy squeals each time he was thrown in the air.

When your son reaches the ages of 6-8 he starts to show an interest in soccer. Or as Price says "football". You'd catch them both outside in the backyard playing with the ball Price's mother had bought for him when he was a child. He had to dig through his mother's attic to find that raggedy thing just so they could play.

Always keeps a close eye on his son when in public, makes him hold his hand, or just picks him up when around other people.

You both decide to homeschool your son and buy textbooks, flashcards, and notebooks for him when he turns six. You mostly help with the teaching while Price cleans around the house or cooks. Occasionally will walk over to see how his son is doing in whatever subject he's currently working on or if he's just practicing his writing skills. I see him being an expert in helping him with history, English, and maybe math. Hates science though but he tries to help still.

Would be that parent that properly educates his son on the 'errors' the system fails to teach in history.

If and when your son gets in trouble for doing something he knows he shouldn't have done you're probably the one who does the disciplining and while you're cooling off in the other room Price stands up from the couch and goes to the corner your son is crying in to have a gentle but firm talk with him.

Doesn't do spankings or hit his child in any way, his voice and punishments are enough to teach a proper lesson.

Will sometimes wake up from his naps covered in marker and in multiple different colors and he doesn't notice it until he goes to the bathroom and sees his son's artwork on his face.

You both have another child as a result of Price being unable to keep his hands off of you. Best part? It's a little girl! And Price is over the moon that he gets to have another little baby to take care of (he loves his crazy little boy though). Price works hard to make sure his partner is relaxed and comfortable and that his children are healthy and happy.

[huntersrequiem-if]

I do not know if anyone has asked this but it's my favorite toxic scenario so don't judge me.

If the ROs and MC are out and someone tries hitting on MC while an RO is away from them... how do the ROs react?

Can we pretttttty please do crushing stage vs relationship stage. 😫

I'm already dying while imagining reading Astaroth's... i have a problem 😭🤣

Hiii! Sorry, it took so long, was a bit busy. Also don't worry I'm not gonna judge, after all, it's pretty fun to explore this side of the characters.

Warning: It's pretty long so it goes under the cut.

(Also I imagined it as some sort of party)

Crush:

Nope, nope. Astaroth is seething inside. How dare this worm bother the Hunter with useless drivel? And why, oh why isn't the Hunter leaving, could they like it? No, no, he shall hear no reason like duty and politeness or silly things like that.

While there is little he can do about it - unless he wants to get into an ugly fight - Astaroth does what he knows best, talk. He picks apart everything about that worm, from the way they speak and look, the clothes they wear, the way they carry themself.

Poor Hunter will have to leave to spare themself a headache.

And if Hunter don't? Well, fine, they forced his hand. He's willing to go into a fight over this.

Regardless of how it happens, Astaroth is right as rain the moment Hunter leaves the worm in the dust. Back to jokes – fine, he’ll even grovel a bit, or more until they stop cursing him out.

Just this once.

Relationship:

Here he is more assured, confident. Because Hunter is his and nothing can take that away. So, who cares if some poor thing makes a fool out of themself trying to flirt with someone as radiant as the Hunter? Ha!

He would watch this - with his head resting on the Hunter's shoulder arms wrapped around their waist. Draped lazily over their back, he enjoys the show. An amused smirk plays on his lips as his eyes follow the bumbling fool. It widens when they stumble over their words.

Astaroth wants to cheer the idiot – “Go on, make a bigger fool out of yourself, amuse us!” – but he doesn’t, just nitpicks the attempts to himself. Frankly, he heard better flirting.

 He'll be quiet, only speaking when the idiot finally scampers away.

"Hm, I almost feel sorry." Lips brush the Hunter’s neck, a brief kiss against their warmth. “Almost.”

Crush:

Moon would freeze, not knowing what do to. Well, she does know but she isn’t that idiotic. She wants to slide near the Hunter and intertwine their fingers together. And Hunter placing a kiss on her knuckles while she sends the beau a smug look.

No, that’s downright idiotic. Moon has a duty, an obligation. She should be by her husband's side, be his darling wife. She shots a glance at the man by her side, see his gaze snap back to her. She flashes him a quick, meaningless smile, her eyes already back on the Hunter.

Movement from the little beau and Hunter, the person raising a hand to touch them. She bites her lips, wrapping her wings around herself. Oh, but would you look at that? Another person bumped into the beau before their hand touched Hunter.

Those two seem stricken by each other, you can just see the hearts floating around each other. They walk off like two loverbirds.

How adorable! How fortunate the little beau had found their mate! Isn’t Moon such a caring goddess?

The self-satisfied smile on her face withers when her eyes meet Hunter’s, quirked eyebrow and unreadable expression on their face. Moon flushes, feathers ruffled. Turning to her husband she places her arm delicately on the crook of his elbow, trying to focus on him, his lips, his words.

Relationship:

Moon sweeps between them with fluttering feathers and a trailing dress. Her tinkling laugh steals the beau’s attention and her smile is like the sun.  Warm, radiant. She enchants the person until they’re so enamored with her they forget Hunter is even there.

But she doesn’t. Moon’s eyes are always on them, flashing them a smile meant for them. Soft, adoring. Brushes of her knuckles against the back of their hand, featherlight and gone in a flash. It burns her and she wants nothing more than just leave this party.

Somehow, she manages to make the beau leave. With a wink, she turns to the Hunter and discreetly tugs at their wrist. Once they are in a secluded and shadowed corner away from prying eyes, she presses herself against them, lips seeking theirs in a heated kiss. Her hands search purchase on their clothes, trailing.

“Hello, love. Missed me?” Her words are faint against their lips.

Crush:

They would watch – glare, if you were to ask anyone else, over the rim of their cup, sipping slowly. They’re being silly, Night knows that. Hunter is their own person – this is just a childish crush, it will pass. But why does their heart do a painful squeeze when Hunter reciprocates?

Why do they wish that smile was for them?

They glance away, lips pursed in a thin line. Sneaking a glance back, they run a hand through their hair. How… pathetic they are, pinning for someone who doesn’t even know they care.

Ridiculous. They’ll leave – not because of this little scene, no, no! – but because the Underworld is busy. Night can hardly leave it unattended for a silly party.

Yes, that’s exactly why. Downing the last of the wine, they’re gone before anyone else notices.

Relationship:

A hum leaves their throat, watching the spectacle unfold. Night is not amused, more like curious. How will this happen, will the person take rejection gracefully? Some do, some don’t. A shame, to embarrass oneself for this.

Their steps bring them closer to the Hunter. They have a questioning look in their eyes – is this alright? Do you need help?

The Hunter shakes their head and Night’s shoulders drop slightly. Still, they give their hand a quick squeeze, a touch of heavy wings on their back gone just as soon. A flash of a warm smile accompanied by a nod and they leave. The Hunter can take care of themselves – but Night would keep an eye from the corner of the room.

When the Hunter returns to their side, Night smiles softly at them, leaning their shoulder against them. They start talking in soft, hushed voices.

Crush:

The other partygoers give them a pitying glance.

They have been standing in the same spot for quite a time, hovering uselessly around a certain conversation.

Poor thing.

Some have tried to engage this lone figure.

Santana flashes their current conversation partner – a woman with auburn hair and pretty green eyes – a fleeting smile and they try. To be aware, present and listen. Yet their answers are short and quiet with a gaze more often than not on Hunter.

Peering at this person, Santana knows it’s silly – they don’t know all people after all. But maybe they know this one or heard of them. Tall and bearing a proud figure, Santana’s mind blanks. They can’t put a name on the face.

It was to be expected, but it did nothing to quell the disappointment in them. With a huff, they can’t help but be curious, who is this person to have the courage to flirt with a god so brazenly?

Another bigger part is annoyed by how easily they capture Hunter's attention with so much confidence in each gesture.

Santana frowns, trying to ignore the incessant tugging in their heart, like a thin thread wrapped around Hunter's fingers.

A small nudge against their shoulder brings them back to reality with a startle. Santana blinks wide eyes at the woman, cheeks flushed. Her eyes sparkle with mirth.

How rude of them!

Before they can release a torrent of apologies, she cuts in with a jerk of her head. "Your partner?"

They follow her gaze and their cheeks flush harder, mortified. "No!" Their voice is a little too loud, too high-pitched.

Curious eyes glance their way and Santana gulps, shoulders rising to their burning ears. Especially when they feel the Hunter's gaze, hot and scorching on their skin.

Why can't the earth open up and swallow them?

The woman snorts and takes another sip of her wine. "No offense, friend, but you're a terrible liar."

A small pause. "None taken." They rub a hand at the back of their throat, unsure. "But nothing is going between us."

“Sure, friend.” Santana frowns, not liking her sarcastic words.  She lifts a shoulder, swirling the wine in her glass. “There won’t be anything else if you keep watching.”

They watch her, the veil of melancholy that feel on her face. It saddens them. “I’m sorry.”

She blinks at them, for a moment looking taken back. A quick bark of amusement slips past her lips, shaking her head. “There is nothing to be sorry about friend. We just made our choices.” A fleeting pat on their shoulder and the woman leaves, blending in the crowd.

Santana blinks at the spot she was. Ah well, there goes their excuse to linger around. With one look at Hunter, Santana bites their lips, hard.

Taking a deep breath, their feet bring them closer. Hunter turns their head slightly and Santana smiles, eyes on them. Trying to stop their hand from trembling, they place it on the crook of Hunter’s arm.

“Hello. I’m Santana.”

Relationship:

Santana would pause, fingers wrapping tighter around the cups they are carrying. Of course, they left their side and someone already swooped in. A furtive glance at the person reveals a stranger.

Another glance to Hunter and they don’t seem interested. Good.

A frown worms it way on their face - how to approach this? What version of them did the Hunter like more?

With a shake of their head, Santana sighs and resumes their way. Smiling warmly at Hunter, they give them a cup. Now with their hand freed, they slide it across Hunter's back, resting on their hips.

Taking a sip of their drink, Santana watches the stranger over the rim of their cup. "Hello. I'm Santana." A small nod, eyes inquisitive. "And who might you be?"

Crush:

??? would hover so close, just behind Hunter's shoulder, staring at the other speaker. The other person would shift before finally leaving.

With them gone, ??? would turn to Hunter and ask in a small, quiet voice. "Is this something you to often? Bedding mortals?" There is no reproach in their voice, mere curiosity.

"Are... are you offering?" The answer is befuddled, lacking any kind of heat.

They would tilt their head, mapping the Hunter's features with their eyes.

"No."

Still, they don't leave, sticking to Hunter like a quiet shadow.

Relationship:

A simple look is enough to tell them everything they need to know. ??? would wrap their fingers around Hunter's wrist and drag them away from the stranger.

They would search a quiet spot, potentially the garden before slidding down and resting their head on Hunter's shoulder.

[cherrysoulth]

Pissin' Our Pants Yet?- Chapter 4: New order

💕Pairing: Negan x Female Reader 

✏️Genre/au: Canon, Action, Smut, Sci-fi, The Walking Dead Fic

✏️Rating: PG 18+, explicit

📝Wordcount: 9173

⚠️chapter warnings: Shitloads of cursing, Gore details (zombies), Mentions of cults, mentions of cult practices, dictatorship status

<<< 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 3 | 𝕸𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 5 >>>

Hii! Did you stumble across this work? Glad you're here 😊 Please, let me know your thoughts once you are finished. Feedback keeps me motivated to write 😁

Note that English is not my first language, so please if you find grammar mistakes, let me know. :)

My gratitude goes to @alldevilsarehere90 for her hard work on beta reading this huge chapters🧡

"Pissing our pants yet?" says Negan, the wicked big bad wolf on full display, the dance of shadows and lights in the clearing only making him look more imposing. The alpha in him is exuding from every pore through the depths of his hatred. 

'That's how he uses his anger. He channels it to dominance and subjugation,’ you think as you watch Lucile with her dangerous wires resting at his shoulder, his head held high. If you would have met him in this situation instead, you would have felt far more terrified of him than you were back in the mall. His characteristic smile back to his lips as he starts to walk, knowing they are not yet aware of the things Gregory the pencil dick has told Simon about them. "Boy, do I have a feeling we’re getting close.'' He keeps on his advances, calmly, inspecting the prey, checking each one of them in a semicircle. "Yep, it’s gonna be Pee-Pee Pants City here, real soon," his smile doesn't fade an inch at any moment, then casually points at each one of them while asking: "Which one of you pricks is the leader?" 

"It's this one," Simon replies, pointing to a slim man seemingly in his mid-forties, judging by his peppery beard. Looking at Negan as if he isn't surrounded by at least fifty men or as if Negan is as much of a threat as a walker without legs. To a certain point, you can understand his attitude. 'The dude has taken down a bunch of Saviours like they were pigs waiting to be slaughtered, instead of soldiers to a tyrant's regime,' you remind yourself. "It's this guy," adds Simon with his typical second-in-command tone. Negan looks at the guy up and down, first curious, then gets closer, smiling widely. He already knew. 

"Hi, you’re Rick, right?" he licks his molars, knowing he’s about to break some tough questions for these people, surely: the 'What's he going to do to us?' one. But starts talking seriously and the darkness shown in his features just seconds ago, makes its way into his words. Simon, in front of you, seems to be somewhere darker, his body so tense while seeming to be standing casually, you are sure you heard his joints snap. Like a contained animal on a tight leash. "I’m Negan. And I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people," his eyes strain and his voice grows lower with those words. 

"Not cool. Not fucking cool. You have no idea how not fucking cool that shit is," the guy looks at him and you notice that sparkle in Negans eyes. Something crosses his mind. "But I think you’re gonna be up to speed shortly. Yeah, you are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes," that smile slowly comes back to his face, the lights making his pearls stand against the dark expression in the rest of his demeanour. "Yes, you are," his tongue travels to the side of his mouth again and for some sick reason you find that sexy. "You see, Rick, whatever you do, no matter fuckin' what, you don’t mess with the new world order. And the new world order is this, and it’s really very simple, so, even if you’re stupid, which you very well may be, you can understand it." There's a short pause in his speech. "You ready? Here goes, pay attention:" he adds, dropping Lucille from his shoulder to point to the guy who's sweating and shaking like jelly, probably starting to notice there's no way out or trying to figure one out, making him move uncomfortably away from her. 

"Give me your shit, or I will kill you," a confident smile appears on Negan's lips. You are the only lucky bastard at Sanctuary on that matter, there's nothing that Negan can threaten you with besides your own life and you are sure he already knows that wouldn't even be a threat. That is until Daryl has reappeared in your life and something has twisted in your soul. Bringing back the threat of trouble and something old, something you thought you left on the road. "Today was career day." Negan starts to pace in front of them with Lucille at his side, talking louder for everyone to hear. Not that you couldn't in this forest of silence. "We invested a lot so you would know who I am, and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me," he points to a short-haired woman. "That’s your job. Now, I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly mother-fuckin' will." there's some rage in his voice but he knows tonight the rules will be engraved in every single one of their minds with blood. That smile coming and going in the meantime, makes you hope it's just his way of making people think he doesn't care about hurting people to make them fall in line. "You ruled the roost. You built something. You thought you were safe. I get it. But, the word is out: You are not safe. Not even close." emphasising those last words to make a point. 'We are the only ones safe, the Saviours. Only if we follow his rules.' It makes you shiver. 

"In fact, you are fucked. More fucked if you don’t do what I want. And what I want is half your shit. And if that’s too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it’ll even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now," he explains, extending his arms referring to the situation they are in. "The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So if someone knocks on your door, " he chuckles, "you let us in. We own that door. You try to stop us, and we will knock it down. Do you understand?'' Then he cups his ear not really expecting a response, as he arches his brows towards Rick. All probably because there's still some glare-fight coming from his little crowd. The courtesy isn't replied. "What, no answer?" He steps back again to direct himself to the kneeling group. 

"You don’t really think that you were gonna get through this without being punished, now, did you?" you look at the group stopping your eyes from staying too much on the one body you know. You knew him but you can't stop the thought: 'Anyone but him, please.'  "I don’t want to kill you, people. Just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can’t do that if you’re fuckin' dead, now, can you? I’m not growing a garden.'' Then you notice a change in the air, so thick it could be cut with a knife as if the words before were just a warm-up and he is starting the main event. Starting to get serious. "But you killed my people, a whole damn lot of them, more than I’m comfortable with. And for that, for that, you’re gonna fucking pay. So now, I’m gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you." he makes a slight pause to put his weapon of choice on display. 

"This, this is Lucille, and she is awesome. All this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor.'' He keeps walking and stops in front of a redhead that gives him a 'Let it be me, I'm not scared of you,' kind of look, to which Negan smiles, inhaling sharply while rubbing his beard. "Huh. Ugh, I gotta shave this shit," he mutters to himself, then keeps walking till he sees the young man with the patch on his eye. "You got one of our guns." Negan squats in front of the kid. "Yeah. You got a lot of our guns," his gaze grilling on the kid but the boy keeps eye contact. You shiver, thinking that giving him a stink eye in this situation is probably a dead sentence but the boy is so young, he's probably not yet had the time to make big mistakes to pay for. 

"Shit, kid, lighten up. At least cry a little," Negan tells him with a chuckle before clearing his throat. He moves around still not deciding, just creating tension before choosing who's gonna die tonight. But stops in front of the short-haired woman again, who already looked like she was going to pass out when she was put down from the makeshift bed and she looks even worse now, judging from Negan’s ‘not giving a fuck tone’, says: "Je-sus. You look shitty. I should just put you out of your misery right now-"

"No! No!" shrieks an east asian guy, near to tears as he launches forward towards the woman. You bet, to protect her. 'They are a couple, definitely.' Dwight and another Savior reduce him quite violently, the first one pointing the crossbow to his head while the guy grunts on the ground.

"Nope," Negan, who has been watching the whole thing, starts to move again. "get him back in line," commands before sighing.

"N-noo…" grunts the guy while Dwight drags him to his place again. Then growls and yells with impotence and desperation. 'They don't look like bad people, in fact, they look like pretty normal people you would find at the grounds of Sanctuary. Maybe they just wanted to defend themselves' but it's not your call. "Don't... Don't…" the guy continues to plead, Negan chuckles again but you can't see the fun in all this even if he pointed it out to you.

"Hey, listen. Don't any of you, do that again. I will shut that shit down. No exceptions. First one's free. It's an emotional moment," Negans' smile comes back again, "I get it." He pauses. At this point, it seems obvious how many times he's done this to know how to increase the tension and not let the situation become a bloodbath. You realise that this might, indeed, be a tough choice. He has to choose between them the one that will seal the deal. They all are very close to each other somehow, from what you've heard along the waves, seems like the community is tightly bonded together. "Sucks, doesn’t it? The moment you realize you don’t know shit?" He looks at them and stops his eyes at the kid again, then points him with Lucille and his gaze shifts towards Rick. "This is your kid, right?" he laughs cruelly, sucking in a croaky breath. As if it's been a funny realisation, although you know he already knew somehow before making that comment. "This is definitely your kid!" he adds with a chuckle.

"So stop that!-" growls Rick, finally saying something.

"Hey! Do not make me kill the little future serial killer. Don’t make it easy on me," he suggests, showing off that he already knows who is who and what's been done. "I gotta pick somebody. See, everybody's at the table waiting for me to order." He starts to walk again, with his characteristic whistle, letting the air break through his teeth before saying: "I simply cannot decide..." Then turns, giving them his back, before another dark chuckle escapes, adding to his mystique. Turning, again, to look at them, he adds:  "I got an idea…" wetting his lips, giving it a little thought and his teeth gleaming brightly again. A terrible one, you guess. 

"Eenie. Meenie." he starts, pointing at each one of them, starting at Rick. "Miney. Mo. Catch. The tiger. By. His toe. If. He hollers. Let him go..." he moves to the other end of the lined-up people. "My mother. Told me. To pick. The very. Best. One. And you. Are. It." The time stops for a second, so does your heart in anticipation. Something familiar, yet unknown, stirring up some old emotion close to terror in you. Pure terror. "Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy’s other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we’ll start. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you’re all gonna be doing that!" The mighty strength put on Lucille for the first hit affects his last words. Then something stops in you, a numbing sensation, swallowing anything you'd been feeling until this moment. Your blood cold in your veins as you see real blood dripping. Some old memory triggering but it doesn't clarify, it doesn't show in your mind. "Oh! Look at that! Taking it like a champ!"

"Suck. My. Nuts," replies the redhead as the blood starts flowing through his head and drips down. The people who know him cry and grunt in desperation. You can do nothing, you just stand there trying to seem like you are looking, but your mind is not focused on that anymore. 

It is hard to see someone you know, do those kinds of things to someone else but you remind yourself that this is survival to the fittest, you have chosen a side, you don’t know these people. You have to stick to the plan. They killed a bunch of your people. You are not a heartless bitch for this. Just one kill, just one and everything will be over. Your head spins on the times you've killed, it was always personal somehow: someone who was a threat, someone who'd hurt you or your family, someone hurting someone else who couldn't defend themself… What was really that different from this? Nothing. Your hands are dirty too. Who hasn't killed these days?

"Did you hear that?" You focus back to a mass of brain and blood instead of where a head should be, on the floor. Negans' voice is tired from the effort. "He said: Suck my nuts!" He exclaims, before laughing. He continues to smash the mass. This only adds to the distress of the people on their knees. Negan moans by the strength put on his act and you forget for a second the situation you are in. "Look at this!" he swings Lucille, spraying blood everywhere and makes that deep husky laugh, when he’s enjoying something way too much. "You guys, look at my dirty girl!" he continues between tired breaths. "Sweetheart. Lay your eyes on this." He adds, pointing to a woman within the kneeling group and sighs heavily. "Oh, damn. Were you- Were you together?" points out moving Lucile between the corpse and the woman. "That sucks. But if you were, you should know there was a reason for all this. Red- and hell, he was, is, and will ever be red. He just took one or six or seven for the team!" he concludes, with dark humor added to his last line. You can hear all of them breathing shakily, affected by the circumstances and it spins your head, unable to get joy from it. Unable to convince yourself that joking around in a situation like this is acceptable. "So, take a damn look!'' Then,  before you notice that you have been walking at all and even less moved, you are grabbing Daryl who has tried to jump on top of Negan, surely to punch him. You whisper in his ear "Be smart, don't get anyone else killed..." he moves his head to look at you, eyes wide open, then tries to shake off from your grip. 

"Daryl!" shouts Rick.

"No! Oh, no." You see Negan pointing at Rick. After a little silence, he chuckles looking at you. Your mind processes then that he might assume you protected him, which you did too, somehow. But the darkness in his sight gives you the thought he might have caught on to  you and Daryl knowing each other. If that is it, you two are fucked, in one way or another. "Get him on his knees."

You obey and retire back to your place on the right side in the background, you begin shaking worried he might kill Daryl as he warned just minutes before. Simon approaches, "Calm down, sweetheart," he whispers, but you barely notice. The way you shake being the telltale sign of how troubled you are, makes you shoot him a murderous look and even with all his height and strength he backs up, hand leaving your shoulder. A thought occurs to you, that if Negan kills Daryl... 'Why do you still care, you idiot!? He broke up with you ages ago! Literally, ages, what? Ten-eleven-twelve years ago? Shit, who can remember that...? Maybe he is not the person you remember him to be.' You keep strong but know you will hate Negan if he kills him. You would kill him. 

In a normal situation, you would be working in a conversation with Daryl. Settle things for you to move on from the past for good. Not that you would bother with anyone else. After all, you were raised not to take bullshit from anyone. But now, 'Shit... This totally sucks...'. 

Negan looks at you once more but your head is already spinning to the past. 

You tie your middle-length, dyed black hair in a ponytail before you hand him a cup of hot chocolate from the thermos. Then you rest your head on his thighs once again. Staring up at the sky full of bright tiny dots in the darkness whilst you caress the picnic blanket next to his legs with your index, making circles while watching your breaths making foggy clouds in the air.

It was your idea to go see the stars in the middle of November but it's the best time to go stargazing, when there's less heat and humidity haze, not that you couldn't see them in summer but the view was definitely better. 

The road to Brasstown Bald has also been enjoyable by itself. Anything that has to do with going on Daryl's bike is pleasurable to you. Sometimes you wish you could just have your own and at this point, you know Daryl wouldn't be the kind to shame you about it. You can't say the same about your mum, she definitely would oppose the idea. She has had enough of her son being a biker, she doesn't want her daughter to be a biker herself. Little does she know you are actually an ol' lady. Even Merle calls you that.

You pull your furry blanket higher due to the cold and Daryl's gaze drifts towards you. In a quick movement, he places his drink over the grass, peeling off his own blanket and lies down next to you. Then takes the spare blanket and pulls it over the one you already have.

Although your heights are not so different, his much bigger frame makes you feel tiny in his arms as you cuddle, with your head against his chest. His breaths and his heartbeat are like lullabies. The tenderness filling your heart makes you wish moments like this could last forever. 

It's surprising how many things your body can do automatically. You've moved into the background from one edge of the crowd to another, being now on the left. Even with that, you've seen it all, as if you were watching. Even if you've tried to eradicate it.

"Sure. Yeah," Negan keeps his squat in front of Rick. "Give me his axe," ’Jesus. What's he gonna do with it now…?’ you wonder. Simon walks forward from his corner and hands it to Negan, who puts the axe in front of Rick and starts to get into an ironic stare-off, smiling and analyzing the man he has in front of him once again. After seeing there is no back down from Rick, his demeanour turns stern. Standing, he puts the axe in his belt with a deep sigh, then grabs Rick by the collar of his jacket and starts to drag him through to the RV. "I'll be right back. Maybe Rick will be with me. And if not, well, we can just turn these people inside out, won’t we?" He pushes Rick through the open door and adds: "I mean the ones that are left." He points at you and then points to the vehicle in a silent order. You jog following after him, closing the door behind, you can locate the axe pinned on the table before you sit in the copilot. Negan is already in the driving seat. He’s looking  straight ahead with determination. 

"Let's go for a ride." He tries to start the engine with no success. "Wow. What a piece of shit!" Then he sucks in with his tongue between his teeth and adds: "I'm gonna kill you..." with mockery, imitating Ricks' previous statement and chuckling at it. "Are you kidding me? Did you see what just happened? What I just did? You just..." he comments, sighing ironically. "Your best chance, is to stand up, grab that axe, and drive it to the back of my head," he states, without even turning around. You are not sure if it is due to cockiness or because he is sure Rick will not do it but you're still sitting with your legs halfway in Negan's direction in case you have to stand abruptly. "See how you do?" Now you see Negan looking through the rearview mirror. "Keep acting tough. Go ahead. Grab, the damn, axe.'' When Rick does exactly that, Negan stands up at the second, pointing an M4A1 SOPMOD previously left next to the driver seat while you point him with your Magnum Desert Eagle. You have not even bothered to get up and just turned in your seat. Negan makes a denial gesture with his head and chuckles.

"Drop it," He says in a tone that almost mimics the sigh, which causes a shiver of excitement in your body. ‘At what point have you started to like his dominant tone…? Damn girl, you're fucked up.’ Rick obeys,  the clink of the axe on the ground sounds around you. Then Negan uses the base of his weapon to hit Rick's belly, cutting off his breath. Sighing again, he sticks the axe back on the table in such way that it makes Rick reel back, even though you remain impassive. "Do not make me get up again." Concludes Negan dryly. When he turns back, you exchange glances. "Well, look at that. Dawn is breakin'." his eyes meet yours again, with a face you can not decipher, then turns back, his pearly smile doing the honors on his face once again. "It's a brand-new day, Rick," he announces with a chuckle and sits in front of the wheel, ready to go. "I want you to think about what could have happened, think about what happened, and think about what can still happen." Negan sighs as if tired of repeating himself, which is probably not a good thing for the dude on his knees. Then Negan starts the engine and the big machine finally moves. Silence falls upon you all for a few seconds and you take the chance to observe the person who has become Negan’s plaything, only to realise he is lost inside his mind. ‘Good, he's thinking, maybe this will end soon for all of us. This shit is taking too long if he just accepts that he has nothing left and that he lost… I hate this shit I wanna go home.' The day is brightening but the road is covered in a dense fog that won't let you see in an inch of distance without the lights. You hear a walker approaching just before the RV splashes its head in the front window. 

Negan laughs with malice "Oh! Boom!" jokes Negan before he keeps laughing. "That reminds you of anybody you know?" ’Oh boy...’ Another giggle comes along while bashing another walker’s head against the front of the vehicle. "Oh, yeah." The growling continues, you suppose it must be a herd attracted by all the noise that has been going on the past few hours. The brakes squeal and the engine shuts off, then Negan makes the keys jingle in his hand. Grunting, he walks to the back but you just stay and observe. Squatting on Rick’s side, he states: "You are mine. The people back there," Rick does not meet Negans' eyes as he speaks "they are mine. This," He shows Rick the axe "This is mine."

All the grunting noises coming from outside indicate a large amount of walkers approaching the RV. Negan stands up and walks to the door opening it and does something you would not expect. After killing one of the undead, looks at Rick whose eyes are on the carpet that covers the floor and with a naughty face, he throws the axe over the roof of the motorhome. "Hey, Rick, go get my axe. Let's be friends." Rick looks at him for a second, pissed off, not wanting to bow his will to Negan’s ways of humiliating people. Another walker tries to get inside, fighting for the taste of flesh. "Oh," Negan says with a chuckle, then bashes its head with Lucille. Negan sighs and angrily approaches Rick, threatening him with Lucille. "Get my axe." Moving away to leave some space for the guy to reach the door, you can see in the obvious expressions of his face that Rick is struggling to give up. But then Negan throws him out of the truck without giving him a thought and closes the door behind. You stay put, staring at Negan who's now looking back at you.

"I can't wait to get home," you whisper, looking away while you stand, more for yourself than anything else.

"Yeah. Well. I have a better idea after what I saw earlier," says Negan with a lusty whisper. You suppose he is referring to the fact that you saved his gorgeous face from a punch.

"You're welcome," you say, looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. "It was nothing, really. But I was referring to going to take a nap. I'm so done..." you talk back in a playful tone while closing the distance between you. His features show he's not in the mood for pull-and-push.

"I was expecting to end what we started before. Maybe get that sweet a-" You give him a killshot glare to which he responds with a dark smile from his side.

"Language," you grill.

"Hey, didn’t mean to-" he responds quietly in contrast with his previous attitude but gets interrupted by Rick's footsteps on the roof of the RV. He looks up, forgetting about you and loud enough for Rick to hear, says: "Bet you thought you were all gonna grow old together, sittin' around the table at Sunday dinner and the happily ever after," pausing for dramatic effect. "No. Doesn't work like that, Rick. Not anymore. Think about what happened," then his eyes meet yours. "People died, Rick. It's what happened. Doesn't mean the rest of them have to. Get me my axe." There’s the lesson you mustn’t forget: he doesn’t feel like what he is doing is wrong. "Get me my axe!" repeats looking at the ceiling and then whispers to you: "So, sweetheart you are on my top list now. The way you stopped that guy, your fury..." he gets closer, expecting you to react but instead, you press your hand on his chest. He wastes no time grabbing it and kissing your wrist.

"Let's leave this for the privacy of Sanctuary, shall we?" you whisper in his ear. He puts his hand gently in your throat, catching your jaw and kisses you. You can hear in the background how the amount of walkers around the RV is increasing.

"I thought you were the guy, Rick. Maybe you're not!" speaks Negan but this time doesn't look away, his hand moves to the back of your hip. His voice louder and intense. "We'll give it one more go. Now, I really want you to try this time. Last chance," his face gets darker when he hears no movement from up, his hand leaves your hip to unlock the automatic weapon and his eyes look up before shouting: "Bring me, my axe!" then he moves quickly away from you and starts to fire it towards the ceiling, slightly away from where you could hear Ricks' footsteps. You note the thud of his run and the sound of a chain rattling. The two of you head to the back window to see him hanging, grasping like a koala onto an undead guy hanging off the bridge. Then the walkers start to pull him down by his feet when he slides a little from the moving body. You look at Negan, who only smiles at you. You gesture at him with a: 'Please, do something,' look, his only response is a chuckle and an eye roll as if he thinks you have no sense of humor. When your eyes make their way outside again, you both see how the head of the hanging corpse is separating from the body 'Jesus! That's awful!' you think, totally disgusted. Negan quickly opens the back window and starts to shoot at the walkers surrounding Rick. You move back to your seat, expecting this to be over soon.

"Clock is ticking, Rick!" Says Negan, closing the window with a knock of his hand against it, then adds, "Think about what can still happen!" You can hear Rick outside grunting, assuming he's fighting the walkers. Negan winks at you and you have to hold back the disgust you feel for his enjoyment. Negan presses the horn, to alarm Rick outside, you guess, or maybe the walkers. You can hear Rick bashing walkers on the other side of the door. One splashes against the RV, like a popped water balloon. He tries to enter but the door is locked and you can hear one more crashing against the bodywork. 

Negan calmly opens the door and shoots with his M4 clearing a little area for Rick to enter, then gets out of the way before Rick jumps in closing the door behind him, panting hard. Negan paces in the same spot, while Rick attempts to get the air back into his lungs. When he finally stands, the big boss looks him over, demanding the object with his hand. Rick reluctantly gives it to him with hate in his eyes and sits at the table with his head down. Negans' stare stays on the other man and even with his back to you, you know he is smiling. "Attaboy!" with that he sinks the axe into the table once more and walks to the wheel. You see from the corner of your eye how Rick follows him with his eyes, staring daggers at him. 'Man, you are not understanding shit, are you…?' you think. He is so focused that he seems to have forgotten your presence. Negan starts the engine and drives back to the meeting point.

"We're here, prick," states Negan, standing up and walking over to Rick, who at the same time keeps that killshot glare fixed on him. Negan notices and judging by the way he smiles, you know he's not having any of it. 'This guy has way too much testosterone or he’s just a fucking idiot. Oh lord… Just bow your head and accept you lost'. Negan starts to talk while checking on the cabinets. "This must be hard for you, right? I mean, you have been King Shit for so long. Losin' three of your own like," He snaps his fingers in front of Rick. “And yes, I'm taking the punching hellcat too.”

“Oh. Goody!" he exclaims when he finds a bottle of ethyl alcohol before opening it. Following the motion with a sigh, he leaves the cap on the table and leans on top of Rick before adding. "You were in charge." He unhooks the axe from the table, "Hell," he rubs it against Rick's jacket to remove the traces of clotted blood that cover it, making Rick wince. "you were probably addicted to it. And now," Negan starts throwing the liquid over the metal of the weapon to clean it. "well, clip, clip- that's over. But," he points out, as he takes a seat in front of Rick, "you can still lead a nice, productive life producing for me." Rick's eyes meet Negan's, not submitting and this time he passes Rick the axe by the handle. You can sense his smile again. "I think you're gonna need it. I just got a feelin'," Negan tells him before he sighs. You know that Rick is pushing his patience with the useless resistance he is showing. "So take it," he concludes, demanding. By his tone, you'd say Negan is borderline angry but you can't really tell if it's part of the game or if it's real. 'His mood swings… damn…' He stands and you follow his lead, only to see him throwing Rick out of the RV.

Negan grabs Rick by the nape again, to put him in front of his group as if he was a dog. You follow out of the RV and close the door behind you before reuniting with the rest of the crew.

"Here we are. Let me ask you something, Rick. Do you even know what that little trip was about?" inquires Negan without moving. You can now see the faces of Rick's group in detail and notice, that Daryl now has blood running down his shoulder, which pisses you off, awakening old feelings of protectiveness. "Speak when you're spoken to."

"Okay. Okay," replies Rick breathing heavily.

"That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand..." explains Negan, adding a smile when Rick gives him the look, again. "But you're still looking at me the same damn way. Like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that's not gonna work! I wanted you to understand. So," then he squats next to the man in question, playing with Lucille in his grip. "Do I give you another chance?"

"Yeah," replies Rick rapidly, still panting. "Yes. Yes."

"Okay." Negan taps on Rick's shoulder before adding: "All right!" standing again and rubbing his nose thoughtfully. "Here it is," bouncing he paces for a moment, "the grand prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone's last crap day or just another crap day." He then gestures to the Saviours at the back. "Get some guns to the back of their heads." obedience takes only seconds. "Good. Good. Now level with their noses, so if you have to fire-" gesturing an explosion paired with sound effects in a very graphic way, adds: "it'll be a real mess." then chuckles. "Kid," he says, calling the youngest subjects attention, inviting him with a hooked finger, then pointing to the floor where he wants him to go. "Right here." Disobedient, the boy does not move and stays put looking back at him. "Kid. Now." Finally he moves.

"You a southpaw?" Negan asks him once he is where he ordered.

"Am I a what?" asks the kiddo, giving Negan a strange look.

"You a lefty?" Negan inquires, rephrasing his question as he would to a child.

"No." replies the boy, derogatorily. ‘This kid has a fucking nerve! Like father, like son...’

"Good," adds Negan, while tying his own belt on the left arm of the kid with Lucille held under his own. "That hurt?" he wonders then, with no genuine care in his tone.

"No." 

‘God, Negan will fool himself into thinking this kid would make a good Saviour. His face says it all...’.

"Should. It's supposed to," he replies with his characteristic grin. "All right. Get down on the ground, kid. Next to daddy. Spread them wings!" orders the man, throwing the boy’s hat away at his back. The kid obeys when Negan makes him go down to the floor and gives him a final push to make his belly touch the ground, with a grunt. "Simon, you got a pen?" 

"Yeah," Simon responds, unimpressed.

"Sorry, kid," apologizes the big boss as he takes off the lid from the marker pen, then groans when he squats next to the boy as if his knees hurt after so much bouncing. With the cap held between his teeth, he starts drawing something on the kid's arm and adds: "This is gonna be as cold as a warlock's ballsack, just like he was hanging his ballsack above you and dragging it right across the forearm." then takes the cap from his mouth and returns it to the pen before passing it back to Simon. "There you go. Give you a little average."

"Please don't. Please don't," begs Rick, eyes pleading with Negan.

"Me?" Negan chuckles dismissively. "I ain't doing shit." then stands, with Lucille back in his grip again. "Ahh...Rick, I want you to take your axe and cut your son's left arm off, right on that line."

‘What the fuck…’ 

"Now, I know- I know. You're gonna have to process that for a second. That makes sense. Still though, I'm gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die," Rick begins hyperventilating. "then Carl dies, then the people back home die, and then you, eventually. I'm gonna keep you breathing for a few years, just so you can stew on it."

"You-You don't have to do this. We understand. We understand." pleads a dreadlock-haired woman.

"You understand," emphasizes Negan. "Now. I'm not sure that Rick does," he remarks, before returning his attention to the man in question. "I'm gonna need a clean cut right there on that line. Now, I know this is a screwed-up thing to ask, but it's gonna have to be like a salami slice." 

‘He’s got to be fucking joking… why am I even surprised at this point...’ you think. 

"Nothing messy, clean, 45 degrees- Give us something to fold over. We got a great doctor. The kid'll be fine..." Then fakes to ponder on it for a second. "Probably." Squatting again directly in front of him he continues, "Rick this needs to happen now,  chop-chop, or I will crush the little fella's skull myself." he adds, aiming the baseball bat at the kids' head.

"It can-It can-It can be me. It can be me. W-W-" Rick stutters sniffing, completely discomposed. "Y-You can do it to me. I c-I can go with-with you."

"No. This is the only way..." Negan replies calmly. "Rick, pick up the axe." He orders as he stands again. A short silence is the response. "Not, making a decision, is a biiiig decision." Negan’s tone is starting to rise, meaning his patience is cracking. "You really want to see all these people die? You will. You will see every ugly thing," Rick hyperventilates again. "Oh, my God. Are you gonna make me count? Okay, Rick. You win. I am counting. Three!"

"Please…" Rick starts crying, "Please…" he gasps, "It can be me. Pleeease!" the crying intensifies, desperation evident in his words. "Please don’t…"

"Two!" Shouts Negan without compassion.

"Please, don't do-" "Rick continues pleading while sobbing. 

"This is it," replies Negan, after he squats to grab the crying man's face to make his point clear. "One!"

"Aaah!" Growls Rick desperately.

"Dad just do it." you can hear the kid whisper. “Just do it." 

‘What a pair of balls.’ 

Rick stays there struggling, breathing heavily and you start to think he might pass out. You have seen someone do so before, being under pressure, sometimes the body just collapses but instead, he keeps screaming, grabs the axe and points it to the sky, getting ready to do what he knows will change his kids' life. Negan squats next to Rick again, but his face is an image of winning and pride. Rick looks at him with the most pleading eyes you’ve ever seen. Broken.

"You answer to me. You provide for me." Rick nods obediently. All you can think is, 'This is what Sherry meant when she said he always gets what he wants, no matter what…' "You belong to me. Right?" growls Negan, while the man continues nodding, eagerly trying to get air back into his lungs. "Speak when you're spoken to!" shouts Negan grabbing Rick’s face violently "You answer to me! You provide for me!"

"Provide for you" replies Rick in a broken voice.

"You belong to me, right?!" remarks Negan, still shouting.

"Right," Rick answers.

"Right." Negan wins. ‘Negan always wins.' you think. 

"That. Is the look I wanted to see!" He exclaims, standing again. But things aren't over yet as he grabs the axe. "We did it, all of us, together. Even the dead on the ground. Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure." sighing, he adds: "Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope, for all your sakes, that you get it now. That you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you, that," he interrupts himself, chuckling. "is over now. Ah..." he adds before doing something that puts you on high alert, pointing at Daryl with Lucille: "Dwight! Load him up.'' The man in question has to put some effort to pull him back to the back of the van before he points at Daryl with the crossbow. Then you look at Daryl for a last time, his eyes meet yours before they close the doors. 

Negan squats again, next to Rick. "He's got guts- Yeah, he does. Not a little bitch like someone I know," he remarks, mocking Rick. "I like him. He's mine now. But you still want to try something?-Not today, not tomorrow- Not today, not tomorrow-? I will cut pieces off of-" he looks confused for a second and directs his eyes to Simon. "Hell's his name?"

"Daryl," Simon answers solemnly.

"Wow." Negan chuckles. "That actually sounds right!" his eyes dart back to Rick. "I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep." smiling he decides to rephrase: "Or, better yet, I will bring him to you and have you do it for me." then he chuckles and pats Rick's shoulder before standing up. "Welcome to a brand-new beginning, you sorry shits!" he shouts, theatrically. "I'm gonna leave you a truck. Keep it. Use it to cart all the crap you're gonna find me." Then everybody starts to move, including Negan. You too in his direction. "We'll be back for our first offering in one week. Until then ta-ta!"

With that, he leaves behind his trail of destruction. In this case, it is more psychological than physical. 

You leave along with Negan, right behind him as you both get into the car. There and then the tiredness hits you. ‘Shit, I’m getting too comfortable… I was never this tired when alone.' But you put your seat back and close your eyes in what could be read as a trustful gesture towards Negan. You can feel his glare for a second but you just relaxe and let the darkness consume you. Then you are in a different place. 

It’s a cold night, too cold to be outside but your group has not found a shelter yet. After two days of walking around, trying to find food and medicines for Eric, the member who has been ill for a few days. Without that luck, it’s just getting worse. You have no other option than to light a fire for all of you to warm up. Laura and Alan, the blonde couple will keep the watch during the night so the rest of you can sleep. 

You wake up, startled by a scream, to find Eric has inexplicably become a walker. He had just a bad cold, no bite, no scratch. Now he's attacking your mum, who was sleeping right next to him to offer some aid during the night. 

He is ripping right into her throat by the time you all react to the horrible scene unfolding before you. Your first reaction is to put a bullet through his head. Running towards your mum, you can only watch as she chokes on her own blood. Tears start running down your cheeks and a hard lump forms in your throat, as you contain a scream of pain. Out of love and compassion, you show mercy by shooting her right in the middle of the forehead. 

You stand there, staring at her lifeless body with no light in her eyes, it's as if time has stopped, as if you were frozen, unable to move a muscle. She’s gone. Your mother is dead. 

The warm tears keep falling but you are numb, your thoughts collapsing, until you feel a hand pulling you before snapping back to reality. The screams and the gunshot have attracted more walkers to your camp. Some members of your group are already dead, their bodies scattered around you with chunks of them missing. Finally reacting, you run in the direction you are being pulled in. Your brother has your hand and you are both already breathless in your escape. 

After killing a few walkers on your way, you two get to a tree to rest for a few and that is when you notice it. Your hand is wet with red, blood, your brother's blood. You follow the trail up to his shoulder to see a bite. He is already losing too much blood, it probably nicked an artery. 

"John…" he hushes you. "John." You whisper this time. "You are bleeding..." you say. As if he hasn’t noticed yet, his eyes follow your gaze to his arm, under the light of the moon it seems to illuminate it.

"Shit!" he whispers. "Fuck!" you see a walker go the way you just came from. "You have to shoot me, Allie."

"What!? No!" He hushes you again. "No way…" you insist, adamant.

"I’m going to die, Alice." That shoots you like a bullet through the heart and you start to sob. "I don’t want to become one of those things… and I will only slow you down if we go together, for me to end up like them anyway. I don’t want to put you in danger.'

"Please don’t…" You can't stop crying. You feel weak and lonely all of a sudden. Unable to believe you are going to lose the only people you ever loved in your life on the same night. Your mum and your brother wiped out like dust in the wind. As if they were nothing. "I can’t do this alone… Please…"

"Allie, I love you and I want you to try to live. There has to be somewhere you can live a life, there has to be somewhere. I want you to find it. I want you to fight for it. I want you to live. Promise me you will live." You don’t say anything. "Promise me, Alice."

"I promise." You say and hug him, only to feel the accelerated beating of his heart, working very hard to keep the blood pumping through his body.

"You have to do it now," he mutters. You don’t know how much time has passed but you can see your brother looks paler. He tries to pick up the gun that is still in your hand but you pull your hand away. He looks at you, eyes pleading, but you can’t do it. Something stops you. Something selfish that wants to keep clinging onto your bond.

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…" you whisper as you cry. He nods, understanding, and with a movement faster than you expect, he yanks the gun out of your hand and shoots himself in the temple.

You whimper and automatically cling to his body stopping it from falling. You cradle him, burying your head against his chest, letting the knot in your throat break in a pained cry.

You wake up with a whimper as someone's hand moves you. You panic for a second but then notice you're still in Negan's car and he’s been the one to shake you awake.

"Sorry, love. You seem to be going through hell there." You notice the warm sensation of tears falling through your cheeks. "Oh shit…" You rush to swipe at your skin unwilling to show your weakness.

"I’m fine" he looks at you, clearly not believing it but he doesn't press it as he returns his eyes to the road. Noticing you’re shaking, you put your seat straight and rub your hands feeling strangely numb. ‘If the nightmare is back, it has to mean something’. 

You are still restless when you get out of the car. Negan starts ordering you, the Saviours, to occupy your next hours resting since he's satisfied with the job you all did. You see Dwight taking Daryl out of the van, Negan gives him a nod, and then he walks to the door and disappears through it. You feel the urge to go behind them and make sure Daryl is fine but that would be a serious mistake, for the both of you. So masking your nervousness, you lead the way through the corridors. Feeling a big, warm hand take hold of your wrist, takes you by surprise and your first response is to snatch your hand away that is before you realize it’s Negan.

"What’s going on?" He wonders seriously.

"Sorry, I'm just really tired," you reply showing a toothy smile but Negan does not buy it.

"I wouldn’t like to have a misunderstanding here, so, for your own sake, tell me what’s going on." He asks politely, yet there's a threatening undertone to it.

"I just vividly dreamed about how my mum and brother died… I think I’m feeling a little bit out of my body right now. My apologies," you answer, deleting the smile from your face. You can’t believe the fact that Negan gets closer and kisses your forehead.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll see you in a few hours," he whispers. You nod appreciating the gesture, and with that you leave, walking slowly through the empty corridors. Once again in your room, you let your body fall on top of the bed and everything becomes pitch dark again. 

You wake up confused and alarmed for a second before realising where you are. It's night time and silence reigns at Sanctuary, as always. That's one good thing that came along with the disease. The silence. 'Some day nature will win it's place back.' you wish.

You get up from the bed thinking it could be a good chance to sneak out and get into the cells and see Daryl again, to know what kind of treatment he has been given. 

'Am I stupid to worry about him?' you wonder.  Looking through the room in the darkness, only the moonlight allows you to find the clothes you were wearing earlier. Still not showered, there is no point in changing the garments. 

Your steps lead you to the cells. The door isn't closed but you take a careful look at what's around you, in case there's someone on watch. There's an annoying song playing on repeat but you don't dare touch the music player. Surprisingly, there is no one looking after the prisoners. Taking the chance to look at which doors are locked before you find out only one of them is. Then you find yourself entering the guardian's room, looking for the set of keys. 

Opening the door you see a plastic plate on the floor with some sort of sandwich and Daryl covering his eyes from the light in the corridor, in one corner of the room. Your eyes fall over his dirty clothes and hair, thinking how the man has definitely seen better days. Then you realise he's looking at you. 

"Are you okay?" you ask, feeling stupid. He's obviously not but it's more like an opener of conversation. You begin to squat in front of him and reach out to touch his shoulder, only for him to avoid it. 

"I mean no harm…"

"Why are you with them?" he inquires, fierce eyes meeting yours.

"Seems things have taken a twist, uh?" you reply bitterly, unable to hold your tongue without that judgement.  "Now I'm the one with the bad guys and you're with the good ones. Who would have said that ten years ago, when your brother screwed everything up and you… still chose him," you grill him sarcastically, he lowers his head just slightly while still analyzing your face. 'Are you sorry or you are still your brother's puppy dog?'

"It was-" he tries to speak but you interrupt him.

"I was alone. I had no option. Also… I thought it could be a better chance of survival," his eyes still hard on you soften a little, just slightly enough for you to notice. "Don't lecture me, from what I've heard you killed dozens of Saviours for no apparent reason…"

"If you think they are good people you're delusional," he comments. You chuckle. It seems that some of Negan’s traits might be running off on you.

"Call me whatever you like Daryl… I've always done right by my conscience, I'm not going against it now." You whisper the last word. "I'll also remind you what I said that day; 'I forgive you'. No matter how bitter I am about it." you whisper that close to his ear, waiting for him to lash out at you but only surprise alters his features. He says nothing. When you move to stand, you find something calling your attention in the corner of your eye. Dwight's shocked look from the other side of the door with a sandwich in his right hand.

You calmly close the door and walk his way handing him the set of keys, with a dangerous smile, warning him to keep it a secret. If he were to drag you down, he would fall too and you both know it. Instead, he just nods and you keep walking while deciding it might be a good idea to have a shower and some food. 

In a hurry, you walk to pick up your stuff and rush to the showers, in case you are needed for anything. Afterwards with your hair still damp you sit on the couch of your room, opening a can of sardines, and cutting some bread to fill your stomach, even though it's still quite nauseous from the previous events. 'He's there, eating shit and I'm here eating like a monarchy these days. If I was lucky I wouldn't even know he's still alive…'

You are almost done when you hear a recognisable knock. 

"Come in," you call.

"Hello, darling," says Negan, swinging the door open slowly and entering with his hand still on it. His eyes meet yours with darkness.

Taglist @stxrg4zer @indigosparkle444 @paintlavillered

I hope you enjoyed this. Let me know your thoughts and reblog to let it spread 😊 See you soon! ~

[slocumjoe]

Hi! I love the quality of You’re work, it’s so good!

Can you do companions react to overhearing sole and someone else talking, and all sole is talking about is how freaking amazing said companion is and how much they love them and about five minutes into the rant sole just pauses and is like “oh God I actually love them”

could you do gage too if you write for him

I studied for this one, y'know, just to do Gage right for once

Anyway, this got so long, i had to use multiple paragraphs per some companions. Whoops.

Companions react to Sole talking themselves into realizing their feelings for them

We're going to assume the feelings are mutual. Featuring non-romancable companions too, because i love yall and want you to eat good 💕

Cait; the C in Cait stands for Crisis. Panics and runs away, doesn't want to hear anymore. Sole being all sweet about her platonically about ripped her in half as is, but...holy shit. She has a chance with them. Cait didn't think this far.

The A in Cait stands for Assessment. She starts doing mental gymnastics. Okay, Sole's previous partner was like this. Cait is/isn't like that. Are they viable? Does she even know how to have a relationship? She and Sole get along very well, already. They're in- ew, no. They want to smang. Yes, that is it. No one wants her for long.

The I in Cait stands for Insecure. Cait has so many goddamn issues, man. After enough thinking, she talks herself out of it. What if she's wrong, what if she hurts them, what if they hurt her? She shouldn't try it. She'll fuck it up, right?

The T in Cait stands for Take the shot, bitch. Mentally, she decides to not pursue anything. This will fly out of the window the moment Sole flirts with her or gives her any opportunity. Cait is impulsive, man. Insecurity doesn't last long around Sole.

Curie; Curie lacks tact. Might be the most likely to just...walk in and confess her feelings too. Regardless. But she might also give them more time to ponder it, seeing as they just figured it out. The weird stuff happening in her chest (joy, confusion, bashfulness, she's learned) might also nerf her for the moment.

In the time it takes for Sole to confess properly to Curie, she'll give them lots of space, so that they can think of it without her influence. Will be painfully obvious to anyone else that she's over the moon, though. Listens to love songs and stares dreamily at the sky. Draws hearts in her notebook. Gets terrifyingly excited whenever Sole talks to her, thinking it'll be the moment. If they take too long though, WILL approach them on her own.

Danse; I'm gonna be honest, second most likely to hit the legs the moment Sole starts talking about him. Danse is not built for praise. Danse isn't even built for people being neutral towards him. And he isn't the type to eavesdrop. So, we have to assume that he gets there, like, right before Sole says it. At which point, most likely to stumble and fall on his ass. Sole hears the commotion and comes to check, only to see Danse hopping a fence, or sprinting down a hallway. So, jig is already up, Sole knows he heard.

But, Danse is 1 letter away from being a different word. What is that word, class? Yes, it's "dense." Will do mental gymnastics to come to conclusion he misheard, or misunderstood, or that Sole was talking about an entirely different person.

However long it takes Sole to approach him about it, will dig himself a hole full of self-loathing, loneliness, and yearning. The longer it goes, the deeper the hole. Sole really needs to just run after him screaming "COME BACK I LOVE YOU" or this is gonna be exhausting for Person C, who had to watch this play out as an outside observer.

Deacon; Flips a coin to decide his next move; run away screaming, or walk in strutting? If he walks in, will loudly start chatting up whoever Sole is talking to about how cool Sole is, and does it in a way that gives off the vibes of "I totally feel the same way but I'm pretending I don't know you feel that way at all". Person C wants to die seeing this.

Will also talk himself out of it like Cait. Deacon doesn't even know who he is, how could Sole? And things with Barbara didn't end too well, because he was an asshole who dragged her into his shit. He's still an asshole, dragging Sole into his shit. But because of who Sole has to be to get this close with Deacon, they're likely to nip this in the bud and approach him ASAP.

Deacon has maybe ten minutes of freaking out before Sole finds him alone and confesses. And he knows this. If Sole wants to confess, they better recognize him through a disguise. He wants to be swept off his feet, and nothing turns him on like Sole seeing through his shitty wigs.

Gage; HITS THE BRICKS. He sticks around for praise because shit, who doesn't like hearing how badass they are? And from the Overboss, no less! The intelligent, tough, sexy Overboss, who makes him melt with just a look. He could listen to them brag about him all day. Hell yeah, tell them how smart he is, how strong he is, how...big his muscles are...? Uh, thanks...but talk about how good his aim is, despite the one—wait, what's this about him being...charming...? ...Handsome? Boss, what are you—WHAT? WHAT? WHAT THE FUCK?! THIS WASNT THE PLAN! RETREAT, RETREAT, RETREAT.

Gage put all of those nasty little feelings into a jar and threw them into the ocean like a civilized person the moment they reared their ugly little heads. And now, Sole just...fucking said that. Not a care in the world, no hesitatation. They—they can't. They just can't do anything there. Inappropriate workplace relationship, it wouldn't be right. And with him? Dirty, old, banged up Gage, fucked up in more ways then he has teeth? When Sole is...Sole? Nah, nah, that...nah. Best not go there. Gets a bad case of the Yearning that makes him cringe.

Talks a big game to himself about how he's not going to do anything about it, fuck that, fuck love, who needs it, but to be honest? All Sole would have to do is invite him in a shower or something and he's dropping the literal and metaphorical pants. A smart raider doesn't turn his nose up at a good thing dropping right in his lap. That...might also be literal, in this case.

Hancock; Unlike Deacon or Curie, who consider barging in, Hancock does it. He's so shocked, touched, scared, etc, that he puts on the persona and follows its lead. He walks in, chats like normal, teases, makes no indication that he knows. Everything is normal. It didn't happen. If it did, they didn't mean it.

Whenever he remembers it later, immediately distracts himself. Cuts back on chems because he keeps thinking about it on them. Lets his mind wander. Sole is too good for him, Sole deserves better, and Sole can do better. In this state, Hancock's walls are so high up and reinforced, Sole is gonna need a real bulldozer of a confession to knock them down. I recommend a moonlit dinner with music. Something to let him know that they mean business.

MacCready; It takes a good, long time for him to realize what he heard. In the moment, his brain (likely in a bid for self-preservation) locks up. He shrugs and wanders off, forgets about it. It'll be, like, a week later, and he and Sole will be talking, and it'll come rushing back to him. The shutdown happens again, and this repeats until MacCready thinks about it for a moment.

When he realizes what they said, screams into the nearest pillow, mostly because he's been an idiot for...way too long. Has a crisis. What about Lucy? What about Duncan? What about Shaun? What about Sole? Much like Danse, Sole needs to come get their man quickly, before he spooks himself out of getting some. He wants to, but is it time for that? He'll come around once Sole figures themselves out and goes to him.

Nick; The only one who will go out of his way to approach Sole later and confess himself. He's an adult with functional interpersonal skills. He's not going to kick the door down and drop his pants, and he's not going to run away and fake his death just to avoid talking about it.

Nick gets his thoughts in order, waits for Sole to not be busy, and goes for it. If Sole would be embarrassed, doesn't mention that he heard. Nick probably starts real traditional, gets flowers and candy or something. A little courting gift, as is gentlemanly. Nick knows the importance of skipping the tomfoolery and getting down to business, but he's a sentimental man. And besides, Sole deserves to be pampered, and treated right, if they're going to do this.

Also, Nick is Person C with the other companions. And he fucking knows they sit there and eavesdrop, wants to die when Sole confesses their feelings when the object of them is right there. But also, kinda lives for it. His name is Valentine, of course he's a romantic.

Piper; Piper has a taste for the theatrical, and right now, she's thinking of what she would want as Person C. And She, in C's position, would lose her mind if the Person B walked in and loudly proclaimed their feelings for Sole. Also, it's the first thing she thinks to do, too shocked to stop and think. So Piper does it, God bless.

Well, kind of. She charges in, only to cough and awkwardly tell Sole they should talk, red as her coat. Person C (Nick) appreciates this greatly, even if she stumbled on the landing.

Anyway, there's no wistful wondering. They get this shit figured out ASAP. Piper is also impulsive, and thank God for that. Sole is also red as her coat and they go back and forth teasing each other relentlessly. Lots of squealing and incoherent noises.

Preston; Much like Nick, goes for it...but not for a while. He takes time to think it over. After all, Sole is his general, they have a lot going on, he himself has a lot going on...he has logistics to work through. Likely to make a corkboard planning it out. Will he be able to provide the needed emotional labor? Goes to Nick/Person C and ask their opinion. Nick takes one look at the corkboard and tells him Sole is his friend, not a damn supply route.

Heeding Nick's advice, also approaches it traditionally. He invites Sole to a personal, off-the-record meeting late at night. Sole finds their favorite dish, music, and Preston in a tux that Nick would have advised against if he knew about it. But Preston talks about his feelings, confesses, wants to try if Sole is willing. Obviously they are.

X6-88; Decides No. Simply No. He vanishes and refuses to think about it. Sole is his Director. He is a synth, a courser, a machine. He shouldn't have these feelings anyway, but to act on them? To have them reciprocated? Oh no. No, no, no, that won't do. It goes against everything he believes.

He doesn't think about it at all. If Sole brings it up, he will initially reject them out of shock, because he genuinely is not ready to even consider it, let alone agree. Forget matters of compatibility, there is so much red tape around this, and if he trips over it, he risks his life, his position, even Sole, if the other Board Members take enough umbrage.

Sole has to do so much heavy lifting to get him to feel safe enough to think about the possibility. Not even if he wants to, if its possible. After that...X6-88 is not meant for such things. He's never done it before. Sole will expect and need things he can't provide. What if they want sex? He most certainly doesn't. What if they want comfort? His brain isn't built for that. What if they want him to change, better himself? He's not supposed to change, he wouldn't be a courser if he could.

This relationship would take so many baby steps. But he won't forget that Sole, for some reason he can't parse, feels the same way. For something they shouldn't see as a person, but do. And...they like the person they see. It...Sole is going to be dealing with a crisis, down the line.

[youraveragebtsstan]

💫✨ Supernatural, but it's an early 2000's teen drama. (Think 'The O.C' meets 'One Tree Hill' vibes) ✨💫

Imagine, it's a gorgeous Saturday afternoon in 2003. You're in the kitchen pouring a bowl of Resse's Puffs when you hear Ain't It Fun by Paramore from the living room TV. (Pretend this song was out then.) Knowing the hit TV show Supernatural's theme song by anywhere, you rush to the couch.

Since the hit TV show aired in the early 2000's, its all anyone can talk about. Staring heartthrobs Jensen Ackles and Jarred Padalecki, this show tells the story of brothers Sam and Dean as they navigate life raised by their father John since their mother Mary's pasisng.

🤫 Allow me to set the scene...

Tension between Sam and John has been brewing since Season 1, always butting heads on the littlest of things. Dean says it's because they're an awful alot alike but neither party seems to see it. After moving from school to school, town to town, by Season 3 it's at its peak.

Season 3 opens on an 18 year old Sammy filling out an application for Stanford. He does so in secret, knowing Dean would bitch about it and John- well John probably won't be around to care anyway. Thoughout the season we see him rebell, staying out late and going to parties he probably shouldn't be. Dean tries his best to reason with him, but Sam needs to come around on his own time.

By the season finale, tension is at an all time high. Dean reveals to Sam he knows he's leaving them for Stanford after stumbling across his acceptance letter. This prompts Sam and Dean to get into an argument which John overhears.

After some awkward back and forth, Dean eventually blabs to which John says, "Like the college?"

Sam says, "Yeah, Dad- the college."

Dean says, "Isn't that something? He didn't even tell us he applied."

More silence sits netween them before Sam asks John what he thinks. After some thought John says, "Well, if you want to go, go."

Sam looks shocked, "Really?" he asks.

"Yeah," John nods. "But if you're gonna go, you might as well stay gone."

Sam's heart drops, Dean grumbling at his father's carelessness.

This ensues a BIG argument between John and Sam, to which Sam eventually Sam says, "You know what, I will."

Sam heads upstairs to pack, Dean once again trying to be the peacemaker. Eventually the season ends with Sam walking out of the door with a classic one-liner that absolutely shocks the hearts of millions across the world.

Sam isn't actually seen in the following season (S4), giving the audience well needed view of Dean's devotion to John (but also because Jared begins his stint on Gilmore Girls.) His welcome back to the show occurs at the end of the next season where the Original Supernatural starts, but done with a little more class.

On the last episode of Season 5, we see the infamous Impala pulling up outside a college dorm. Someone steps out of the Impala but we can't tell who it is, not just yet anyway. The person walks up to the door and maybe contemplates ringing the doorbell. Eventually he sneaks in and we see him knock something over on the way in.

Upstairs a girl sound asleep hears a noise. Waking up, she shakes her boyfriend saying, "Babe. Babe, I think someone's downstairs." We got back to downstairs where the man is now looking around in the dark- but wait, there's someone behind him. Someone with a bat takes a swing at him, tackling him to the ground. They tussle back and forth, until the burglar is revealed. We zoom in to see Dean, laying on his back with a smile.

"Dean?" says familiar voice.

"Hiya Sammy," Dean replies.

Boom! Hard cut to Sam's face and the crown goes wild!!! Sam says Dean what he's doing there to which Dean says, "Dad went on a hunting trip and now he's missing. I need your help."

Cut to black, end of Season 5.

~~~~~~

Lol, dramatic I know, but I just get this awesome feeling of nostalgia whenever I imagine Supernatural as one of those teen drama, sentimental shows. (I've been binging those lately and they're all I can think about..lol)

[kleefkruid]

Hello, I hope this isn't an awkward or rude ask, feel free to ignore tho, but I've been tentatively interested in polyam, but more specifically being in a relationship with two partners I love and cherish. I've seen a lot of posts say that this isnt how polyam stuff works tho and I have no touch stone other than my own lovey dovey fantasies, but I know you're polyam and I figured I'd ask what I should think of and or expect out of a polyam relationship? How does it all work? I hope I explained what I mean well enough. Thank you for your time!

Hi! I'm assuming by the way you worded this you're talking about a triad, a relationship where you are dating two people and they're also dating each other.

I'm gonna go into a few points here 1. triads and their prevalence 2. unicorn hunting, what is it and why is everyone yelling 3. how to 'look for a 3rd' in a not-terrible way 4. a little something else about polyam relationship dynamics

Triads exist! But it's true that outsiders assume it's the standard, as you'll notice in pop culture most poly people are triads, and also here on tumblr as a fanfic trope it's also very prevalent.

But in reality triads are not too common simply for the sheer statistic probability. You have to find someone you like, they have to like you. You also have to find someone else you like who also likes you. Then that first person must also like your second person, and your second person must also like your first person! And then after all this, you have 3 relationships (you+b, you+c, b+c) and you still have to find a way to make the 4th relationship dynamic work (you+b+c). Personally, none of my partners or other people I was connected with, have dated other people I'd wanna date. It's usually people I think are cool, good looking and I want them in my life, but they're not people I wish to date. All triads I have spoken or read their stories have kind off stumbled into it. Usually someone was already dating person b, starts dating person c, and by happenstance person b and c do find this connection. So, it happens, it's great when it happens, but it's just not likely purely bc of chance.

2. When talking about this, I have to quickly get into unicorn hunters, because you will run into this term, and you have some overzealous polyam people who will throw this at any person walking into the scene (looking at you, certain message boards) You might think allright, I'll start with finding my person B, and together we'll look around until we find someone we both like! And this is a fine idea, truly (*I am pushing a yelling crowd away at this point*) but there is a certain type of couple that have made this method veeeeery unpopular (and are responsible for like, 90% of the shit polyam people get online), and you have to make sure you're not those people, and then you'll be fine. This specific kind of couple is what people mean when they use the term unicorn hunters. Scenario: You have a mono couple. Usually a straight man and a bisexual/curious woman. They decide they want to dip their toes into polyamory. No problems at this point, although going from mono to poly is a whole post on it's own. But the man doesn't want another man in the relationship, he like the idea of having two girlfriends though, and his girlfriend is interested in girls anyway, so let's look for a girlfriend for us both! This girl they are looking for is what is jokingly refered to as a unicorn. Because they're looking for a bisexual woman (already a specific subgroup) who is poly (again, upping the rarity) who likes them both, equially, and who likes to be barraged by two complete strangers who are like "hey do you want to date us both or maybe have a threesome and see where is goes" A lot of these couples can be to forward (hence the 'hunting' part), because they don't know the dynamics of the poly scene they walked in, but they're usually also not knowlegable about the basics of the queer scene. They're the couples that message lesbians, not seeing how that's fucked up. Often the girl will match with someone on lesbian tinder, who's often not even poly, mind you, and then go "by the way, this is my boyfriend, wanna have a threesome?" If someone enters a relationship with those two, they're often treated as an assesory, lower on the ladder, and they're not allowed to date other people. It's pretty much universally a bad experience for the so called unicorn. It's a stereotype sure, but it's a really fucking prevalent one and any poly person has run into them, every wlw, whether they're poly or not, will have to slap they away when they enter any online dating or even when just existing. So that's why just being a couple looking for a 3rd, even if you're being perfectly respectful (which again, possible) will get an aggressive response in poly cirlces, because we all get the flak that's meant for those people. Lot's of people, especially again mono lesbians, don't even want to associate with me when they hear I'm poly bc of these people, while we get ecually harassed, but in their eyes, that's what poly people are, even though they're misbehaving tourists at best.

3. Now, I have talked about probability, what you shouldn't do, but this leaves the question, what should you do?

Firstly, take it easy, what needs to happen will happen. If you're interested in being polyam, just start with that. Dip your toes into the water without having a route or destination mapped out. If you get a better feel about how it is to be polyam and what the dynamics are like, it will be easier to figure out if being poly is something you want to really get into, and what you want from it. It's a learning process like anything is. Mono peoples first dating will differ wildly to the long term relationship they're in years later. It's just like that, again.

Practical, finding people. I recommend looking on poly specific dating websites. I met my current partner on feeld. The fun thing about feeld is that you can connect your current partners profile to yours. So you're matching people on your own, but you can be like: this is my other partner btw. Feeld is open for both people looking on their own, or couples. And people communicate in their bio what kind of thing they're after. You can also connect your partner for funsies without looking for a 3rd, the connected profiles I see are about 50/50. There are other poly or poly-friendly apps but I have not tried them so you'll have to ask around about those!

tinder: If you make a profile for yourselves just start with saying you're poly in your bio. If people give you shit after you were clear from the start, that's they're problem and they're just being an ass. If you're dating on your own, I would also mention this so people don't think some 2nd person will jump in after you match. I have succesfully dated on tinder as a poly person. I mentioned that I was poly, that I was dating one other person and that we were not looking for people together. I didn't have any mishaps with that. If you're dating and looking together: making a couple profile on tinder, I don't recommend, because again, people will take you for unicorn hunters even if you are not. If you're different genders you'll also get into the space of people who don't want to see you, like an m/f couple getting into a women only space. If you're a w/w couple or a m/m couple you can get into those spaces genreally, especially the mlm community is pretty open to open relationships (hehe) but be clear about what you're doing (start your bio with this) and leave people alone who aren't looking for poly/threesomes/whatever. People who are open to this will usually communicate this clearly. (I'm just talking about men and women here and not going into any kind of gender fluidity bc let's be real there's no dating website that has an ideal system in place when you're non-binary, so that's a bit of a case by case situation) If you're dating and looking together nr. 2: Don't walk up to strangers in bars. Just don't do it. Plain. Simple. You can meet irl people, but don't do it with this intent.

4. about polyam dynamics.

When you get into poly dating, you'll discover more relation dynamics (I get into solo-poly and relationship anarchy here, look into that). You'll figure out that a hinge relationship, like this:

is also a relationship between 3 people. You're not all romantically involved, but all relationships (family/friends/romance) are equially worthwile, and sometimes the lines will blur. I have friends I love a bit, I have friends I have sex with, I have friends I'll never have sex with. I'll love a metamour (partner of my partner) for the love they give my partner, but I don't want to date them. Maybe someday I'll have a metamour I do want to date. You can also have 3 people who all are dating each other, but do it sperately and don't want to turn it into a relationship between all 3 of them together. You have people who form a family and live together, but not all of them date each other. You have people who'll always live alone regardless of the people they're dating; Everything is possible, if you just communicate clearly and have the maximum respect for everyone involved.

I hope this little 1.0.1 thing was a bit helpful to you, if you have any more questions feel free to ask. It's a wide subject that can (and has) filled entire books but I'll try to give an intro as good as I can

[simp-is-here]

Unrequited: Solomon x Reader

Summary: Solomon can’t hold back his feelings any longer, he needs to tell you

(This is basically like when your teacher used to tell you to do something in your own words, yeah that’s this with Lauries first failed proposal. Some things are also skipped over with the movie scene to fit this better)

Jesus I didn’t realize how short this was, it seemed a lot longer when writing it, anyways enjoy

Warning: sad, unrequited love, rejection, slight nightbringer spoilers

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You and Solomon had gotten back from shopping, whilst unloading the groceries into the kitchen you could feel Solomons eyes on you.

“Take a picture it lasts longer.” You joked, not looking at him while you get ingredients for supper out

Solomon let out a chuckle, reaching up to put something onto one of the cupboards.

“Sorry.” He says in amusement, scratching the back of his neck

“Anyways, what’re you’re plans for the rest of your day?” You asked, turning to face him whilst leaning on the counter

Solomon was ready to just shut himself away in his study, ready to dive into spell books to take his mind off of how happy you looked with the brothers today.

You had began taking out some things to cook with, turning back away from him while chopping some vegetables.

“What is it? You look like you’re about to burst.” You laughed, always loving the chances to poke fun at him

“I have something I need to admit.” He said firmly, turning around to face your back

“What? Finally get that pact with Lucifer?” you joked, laughing at your own joke as you looked back at him

His serious expression caused your face to fall, in your heart you knew what he was gonna say, the thought made you shake your head while stumbling back a bit

“No.” You simply say, walking out of the kitchen in a rush

“It’s no use, please just hear me out.” He quickly caught up to you stepping in front of you while a hand clenched the fabric of his shirt over his heart

“I have loved you ever since I’ve known you, I couldn’t help it.” He pleaded, following you as you continue walking

“I’ve always wanted to tell you but you were constantly surrounded by all of them, which is fine. But now we’re alone and I must get an answer cause I can not go on like this any longer!” For once in his life he sounded desperate, his hand gentle grabbing your arm to stop you from running anymore

“Sol, please just stop.” You begged, knowing the inevitable that lies ahead

“I gave up my scheming, I gave up everything you didn’t like. It’s good, I’m happy I did. And I watched and waited and never complained because I- well I figured you love me.” Solomons voice cracked, a hand coming up to wipe his nose while his eyes became red and puffy

You just kept shaking your head, quietly begging him to stop talking before he ends up hurt.

“And I realize I’m not this great man-“

“You are a great man, you’re too great. And I just- we’re just too different. I mean look at us! And we’d fight, we can’t help it even now.” Your words had cut him deep, your friendly grip on his shoulder to reassure him just hurt more

“You’d hate my pestering and I couldn’t handle your secrets, and we’d wish we’d never been together.” You tried to explain to him, trying your best to make him see the problems that would lie ahead

“I love you.” He repeated over and over again, trying to get the point across

Tears formed in your eyes as you looked down, swallowing the lump in your throat uou finally say it

“I can’t love you like you want me too, I’m sorry.”

Solomon let some tears escape, backing up a bit from you while shaking his head. A realization hitting him.

"It's because of them isn't it?"

"......no, no no. I just, I just think I’m ready for anything right now." You lie under your breath, your heart clenched in your chest like the tight grip of sorrow was slowly bleeding into it

"Yes you are, cause the moment we get back you'll jump into their arms and fight the world to never be apart again...” his voice had gotten so quiet it almost gave you whiplash.

Solomon was longer looking at you, instead his gaze was on the ground while his eyes glossed over like freshly cleaned glass.

“…and I'll watch."

You tried to reach out to him at his broken tone but he instead just walked away, the closing of the door was all that was heard as you stood there in silence. Tears beginning to fall down your face the farther and farther he got from you….why did he have to fall in love with you? Why couldn’t he have spared himself of this heartache? Cause now…..

….Now you’ve lost him