#i do think he would at the very least get a side eye?

[bandgie]

Stuffing to Give

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, AGE GAP, reader has an asshole family, hickeys (brief mention), cumming inside, Yunho bites once, clothe tearing, no protection, size kink if you squint, Yunho says 'young pussy', stomach bulge mention

3.5k words

notes! sorry I've been gone, life or whatever. buuutttt happy holidays! this fic took me too long but for being in a drought, I'm proud of it. hope you enjoy :) (divider from @/anitalenia) tag! @desirehorizon

“You know, you should be looking for a husband. Not worrying about your classes or anything like that. No man likes a woman too smart for her own good.”

It was your mom who opened the can of worms during Thanksgiving. The air was already uncomfortable being that distant family who were more like strangers sat at the dinner table, but mentioning that you’ve been single for so long, at such an ‘old age’, made everything a thousand times worse. 

You’re not even old. Some would argue being in your mid-20s was still very young. 

But no matter how much you’ve tried to defend yourself. No matter how many times you said you just wanted to focus on furthering your education, your aunts and uncles pressed one and one thing only. 

Your uncle lifted his fork to his greasy lips, the white meat of the turkey forcing itself into his already stuffed mouth. “Y’know, your youth will only last you for so long. You’ll end up an old cat lady and regret not settling down.”

Regret. You hate that word, as if these people know anything about you, let alone have a right to say how you should live. The food you're trying to swallow feels too big for your throat. There’s a burning in your chest. A feeling you’ve tried desperately to suppress since the holidays started. 

Anger. Hate. Hurt. Disgust. Fear.

You don’t want to be here anymore. 

Dramatically, you throw your fork on the table. The silverware clatters harshly against your plate and bounces until it lands on the other side of the table. The chatter stops immediately, all eyes on you as you stand so quickly the chair topples to the ground.

A pin could drop and it would echo in the quiet room. 

“You know what? Fuck this. Fuck you. I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me getting knocked up. It’s fucking weird. Get off my dick.”

Aunts gasp. Some Uncles laugh. But your mom, her eyes are so wide and shocked as if she wasn’t the one who started this whole issue and didn’t do anything to defend you. 

Her own daughter. 

“And you.” You look at her, but it’s hard when your vision blurs. “When I do find a husband, and when I do have kids, don’t expect to hear from me.”

Voices call your name as you turn away. Someone tries to hold you back by the forearm, but you tear from their grasp. Your only goal is to get the fuck out of there, heading for the front door and slamming it on your way out.

It’s cold. A gentle breeze blows your hair as you turn to the side of the house. The crunch of leaves sounds on the ground therapeutically. You can’t help but look at the pretty orange and brown beneath your feet. It’s the only thing keeping your frustrating tears from falling. 

But you don’t see that there’s already someone at the side of the house with your gaze on the ground. You forget how close the houses are in this neighborhood.

“Bad day I take it?”

You lift your head, surprised to see someone already at your spot. The sun is setting despite the early hours. The only thing illuminating his face are the porch lights. His cheekbones are high. His brown hair is decorated with a few gray strands, framing his handsomeness perfectly. His lips curve into a smile, but more friendly than humorous. 

Shit, you’re staring. “Oh you know, just family butting in when they shouldn’t.”

He grins at that. “Ah, good ol’ holiday joy. I can’t stand them either. Pretending they know me when they don't.”

Relief settles on your shoulders. At least you aren’t alone. “I know right? They change my diaper once and suddenly think they know what’s good for me.”

The man laughs. His smile lines deepen at his lips and his eyes close for a brief moment. You smile at him.

“I know the feeling all too well.” He studies you when he opens his eyes again, gaze dropping to your nylon-covered legs and the cut of your dress. He travels up to your face smoothly. “What was your name?”

It takes a second for the effect of his gaze to fade, but you manage to tell him. “I’m studying Chemistry right now. On my way to getting a Masters.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh wow! That’s really impressive! You look too young to have all that under your belt already.”

His compliments make you burn. “Oh, thank you. I just study hard.” You tuck a strand of hair that blows annoyingly in your face. “And you are...?”

“Yunho.”

You furrow your eyebrows together. “You know? No, I don’t think I do.”

He looks just as confused, but then realization settles on his face and he laughs again. This time, he clutches his stomach and bends over, getting close to your bubble. Not that you mind, you like the smell of his light, earthy cologne.

“No- not ‘you know.’ Yunho. Y-U-N-H-O.”

That smile is still on his face when it clicks in your mind. You feel your face burn from embarrassment, covering your mouth with cold fingers. “Oh my god. I’m such an idiot. Yunho. Okay, I get it.”

You’re still burning when he chuckles again, deep and velvety. “No worries. I think that’s the first time that’s happened to me.”

The two of you laugh once more before you settle into silence. The quiet doesn’t last long when he asks, “So why are you out here? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Maybe it’s the warm, pleasant feeling in your stomach from talking to Yunho, but you don’t have an ounce of hesitation in telling him. “My family has always bugged me about starting a family. The moment I graduated high school, it’s like the only thing I’m good for now is popping out babies.”

Yunho scoffs. His jaw clenches attractively and you hate how your legs press together upon the sight. 

“I know completely where you’re coming from. Trust me, that nagging never goes away. I’m already well above my prime and my brothers still bother me about finding a wife. With all this gray hair? I don’t think the ladies would want an old man like me.”

A demon must possess you because you speak before you can even think. “What? Yunho, I know we just met, but you’re like…very attractive. Finding a wife won’t be hard for you, even if you think you’re old.”

The lift of his eyebrow says it all. He’s shocked, at the very least. He stands straighter, towering over you. You hadn’t realized he was leaning against the wall to appear smaller, but his height stuns you.

He cocks his head to the side. “You think so?”

It takes a moment to gather your thoughts. His defined chest shows through his black turtleneck, nipples pebbling in the cold. His lithe arms wrap over his chest, adding to the clothed cleavage. If his upper body looks this good underneath clothes, you can’t even imagine anything less.

“I…” Fuck it. “Yeah. I do. You’re tall, handsome, fit, and some chicks dig older guys.” 

He scoffs a little, but it’s more from embarrassment than pride. His full cheeks blush further and you know it’s not from the cold. If you manage to play your cards right, you can ditch your family dinner for a different type of feast.

Yunho’s smile turns darker, more sinister as he looks down at you through his bangs. “Oh yeah? What type of chicks?”

“If you want to get specific, maybe the one standing in front of you.”

His grin deepens. Bingo.

-

His car is nice. Like, really nice. The seats are leather and he's got interior lights that shine when he opens the passenger car door for you. 

What a gentleman. 

But it’s his flat that impresses you the most. The ones you see are usually in the movies, either too small for any average person to live in or big enough for a whole town. Yunho has the latter.

You want to compliment him. Or more so, ask what type of job he has to afford all this space, but the large hands on your back push you to the bedroom and remind you why you’re here in the first place.

He doesn’t bother closing the door when you two make it to his room. Yunho cranes his neck down, lips ghosting over your own before he finds your neck instead. You lean to one side, hands going up his back trailing to his hair that you intertwine with your fingers. His mouth is so warm on your cold skin. It has you shaking for a brief moment before you get used to his heat.

Yunho starts with pecks. His lips feel plush and delicate, causing your flesh to rise with goosebumps. He moves to the center of your neck and kisses there too, but just when your eyes are starting to flutter shut and your mouth opens to sigh, he bites. 

You gasp instead. “Ah! Yunho!”

He doesn’t pull away from your throat, but you can feel his body jolt with giggles. He presses his kisses harder where his teeth marked you, a tiny apology you grow wet from. The two of you are still standing mere inches from the bed, but you don’t want to part from him. Yunho’s leg fits perfectly snug between your thighs and though you aren’t grinding, your cunt likes the warmth it provides. 

But you can feel it throbbing. The aching for any tiny movement, but you force yourself still save for how you keep pressing yourself against him.

Yunho makes you feel so small. His hands feel as if they could hold you easily, and they seem to do that with your lower back. Long fingers dig into your skin, and it doesn’t take long for his hands to travel further down until he finds the fat of your ass.

He takes a moment to stop giving you hickeys and groans into your shoulder. “So fucking soft. Your ass looks so good in this dress.” He swipes his tongue from your collarbone to the place below your ears. Your nipples harden almost immediately, the wetness makes you cold for a moment.

“You should see how it looks without it on.”

Challenge sparks in his eyes when he raises his head to look at you. All it takes is a reassuring nod from you before he pulls away almost completely, save for the hands squeezing your ass.

“On the bed then. Let me see.”

You smile and pry his hands off you, lifting your dress above your hips, but not off your body completely. You turn around for Yunho to face your back, hands finding the bed so you crawl on the bed for him to see. Your knees are on the edge, but finding balance is easy when you arch, wiggling your ass in the air.

The nylons are still on, but the see-through fabric adds a layer of sexiness. Yunho’s fingers graze your ass, stuck on squeezing and spreading your cheeks. It makes your pussy lips move with it, opening and closing against your clit softly. 

It’s such a tiny movement to your pussy, but with how you’ve been ignoring its leaking, it feels like so much more. You moan in the sheets, gently rocking yourself back and forth to try and get Yunho to spread your ass more.

“Jesus Christ.” He puts his thumb on your pussy, guiding it against your slit until he finds the bundle of nerves underneath your nylons and underwear. “I can feel how wet you are. You need it real bad, huh?”

His fingers are muted from the layers of clothes, but that doesn’t stop you from whining. You press back until his thumb is hard against you, swiveling your hips for friction. 

“Yesyesyes. So bad. I want your cock.”

His one thumb turns into multiple fingers. You sing with pleasure, showing no shame as you ride his hand until you feel the subtle, but familiar feeling coil in your stomach. Your styled hair is now a mess as it covers your eyes from how hard you’re rocking. Though you can’t see, you can feel the arousal leaking down your thighs and gather at your nylons.

Your orgasm comes quickly. It gets easy to grind on his fingers when your body is desperately chasing the high. “Cumming! Fuckfuckfuck, I'm cumming.”

You lift yourself on your forearms, halting all your movements to let the blinding pleasure wash over you, hot and delicious. Moans tumble past your lips. The tiniest bit of drool seeps from your mouth as you shake. You rock again, this time, to milk out your orgasm to completion. 

But Yunho pulls away.

A desperate cry leaves you. “W-wait. M-more. I want m-”

Familiar hands push you back into the sheets. Yunho holds you by the back of the neck, forcing you to keep your trembling ass in the air. 

Your heart races. More gasps and heavy breaths filter through your chest, but it’s an excitement that bubbles in your stomach. So much adrenaline runs through your body that half of the shaking is from your nerves. 

You just know he’s going to fuck you good.

“You came on my hand and you’re already asking for more?” Yunho tuts. “So impatient, but don’t worry, you’ll get it. Girls like you love cumming their brains out, huh?”

There’s no denying that. You nod in the sheets and whimper a pathetic yes, but Yunho approves nonetheless.

“Yeah, that’s why you’ll take any cock you can get, right? Even if it’s a stranger…” His free hand smoothes over your ass, but once he finds a good grasp on your nylons, he yanks. Your entire body pulls back from the force. You have to grab onto the mattress to not slip off the bed. 

“Even if it’s a man who’s almost twice your age…”

Another harsh yank and you hear fabric tear. Yunho pulls and pulls until your ass and cunt are free from the material. It’s only your underwear in the way, but you doubt that’ll be a problem.

Yunho leans down until he’s at your ear. Your body breaks into chills. He feels everywhere. He is everywhere from how big he is. You know you’re safe, but the thought of being at his mercy heightens your pleasure.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll buy you a new one.” He sweetly pecks your head and pulls away.

You’d laugh from the drastic switch-up, but you moan instead when you feel his fingers at your cunt. He plays with your folds through your panties, poking where your entrance is and smearing the arousal staining the underwear. 

You’ve never been this wet before. It usually takes some lube or way more foreplay, but Yunho turns you on in ways you didn’t believe were possible. His deft fingers and how his brown eyes can be warm but threatening. Everything about him is captivating and you can only hope he thinks the same about you.

With a finger hooking to the side of your panties, he tugs until your bare cunt is finally freed. You clit peeks from your hood, throbbing between your lips desperately. 

For the first time since you’ve met him, you feel nervous. Yunho stares at your pussy longer than you’re used to, making you try and press your thighs together to hide it. 

“Nuh-uh.” He jiggles your ass. “Don’t do that. I wanna see your pussy.”

You whine but obey. You put yourself face-first into the bed, ignoring how your cheeks turn red. 

Soon, the bed shifts weight and you hear the sound of a zipper. You pick up your head to look back, but Yunho forces you to face the bed. 

You pout. “I wanna seeeee.”

“You just want everything, don’t you?” Yunho sounds condescending, but he rewards you with the head of his cock. Your lower lips wrap around his tip when he grinds against your pussy, making sure to keep your underwear out of the way. “You want to cum, you want my dick, you wanna see it…And the worst part is, you’ve got such a pretty pussy that you’ll get everything you want.”

Yunho pulls back just enough to line himself up. You still haven’t gotten over how his tip felt brushing against you. He’s slicked himself up nice and wet to press, intruding on your entrance. 

You squeal. His shape opens you so easily that his size doesn’t sting at all, but makes your brain fuzzy. Though Yunho won’t let you see, you know he’s big. You turn dumb too quickly, chest burning from the oxygen he fucks out of you when he buries himself to the hilt. 

‘Oh my-...fffuucckkkk.”

Yunho groans at your moaning. He opts to hook his thumb in your panties and splay the rest of his fingers on your ass. Messily, he gathers your hair to create a makeshift ponytail with his other hand, forcing your chest up. 

Out... In... Out... In…

The pace is slow, but that doesn't mean it’s dull. Yunho pulls out until his tip is barely inside before pressing back in. When his pelvis is flush against your ass, it has you kicking your feet up and down on the bed from the overwhelming sensation. 

He feels like he’s in your ass. In your throat. You can’t escape how deep Yunho drills into you when he keeps you still by the hair, forcing you to take every unbearable inch.

You love every second of it. 

“Nghhh. Yunnhooo. Fuck meee. Fuck me pleeasseee.”

The sound of your cunt squelching echoes in the room. Yunho grunts at your command, pulling you up a few inches. 

“Yeah, you want it? You want it? Then fucking take it.”

It’s like a switch. That cautious pace turns animalistic, rough, and quick until your breasts manage to slip from the top of your dress and bounce freely. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. There’s no sound until a harsh thrust forces the moan out. Once you start, you can stop. All you can manage are gasps and whines from Yunho’s drive. 

Every vein, every curve doesn’t go unnoticed between your walls. The repeated pistons force you to know his shape. You know he’s carving a place for him. So deep and good that you don’t think you could ever go back to hookups at your university again. 

But it’s Yunho’s tip that does it for you. There’s no you could ever unknow how it kisses your cervix or how the shape digs into you. You can't stop clenching down on it, sucking it back in over and over despite the pleasure overload you’re enduring. 

Your pussy’s in loooove.

The haziness of your mind clears a bit when Yunho pulls you up more. Your fingers barely graze the mattress, but the pain in your scalp feels dull when you look into his eyes.

They’re dark, hungry, and possessive. There’s nothing but carnal desire when you dreamily look up at them, eyes losing focus rather quickly. 

“You’re gonna cum. I fucking know you are. You cunt’s so fucking loud, it’s begging for it again.”

You swoon. Yunho knows he can make you feel good, he can feel it. Something like affection burns in your chest and you look at his pink lips. 

He grins. “You want a kiss?”

You nod, but it must look silly since your entire body is jolting. 

Yunho looks borderline psychotic when he breaks out into a smile. “Fuck. I love how young and stupid your pussy is. I’m gonna cum all over it. You’d like that, huh?”

“Loooveee iiiit.”

Yunho quickens his pace. You swear if you look down, you could see his cock poking through your stomach from the angle. Instead, you’re held to look into his eyes, vision blurring as your second orgasm approaches. It’s so much more intense than your first. Now you have something to clench on. Something to cream on when you inevitably burst. 

And with your crossed eyes looking into his, you do. You feel a burst of warmth from your stomach speedily reach your pussy. It makes you feel hot, the even hotter arousal pooling down your thighs and onto Yunho’s cock.

He moans above you. His hips grow sloppy, hitting different parts of your cunt that have you squealing. Yunho doesn’t break eye contact when he stills in you, dick throbbing as his cum shoots inside. 

The two of you stay moaning into each other's mouths, lips a mere inch away until he finally gives you what you want. The kiss is sloppy, full of breaths and moans as you messily shove tongues inside.

He swipes the inside of your cheek. He twists his tongue with yours until salvia trickles down your chin. You suck on his muscle and he does the same, pulling away with a wet smack that leaves you buzzing.

Yunho stares at you for a beat, eyes blinking as he comes to a sudden realization. “I think I'll keep you.” 

You don’t have the energy to respond, but you're thinking the same thing.

[fairiesthrum]

ummmmmm excuse me, my dearest fae, you can’t just say this and then not expand???

bounty hunter satoru?? do you think he has a dirty little space ship that desperately needs maintenance and he constantly brings back aliens from trips just so he can play around with them, exploring their bodies till they’re trembling and whining…………………………………

🎀 — humblest apologies for not explaining myself further alba 😓 (incoming yap session)

imagine in a galaxy far, far away, there’s a place where aliens and humans co-exist. now, about most of the population of aliens appear pretty humanoid, just very colorful skin and hair (pink, purple, green, blue, etc.)

the setting is very much like that of guardians of the galaxy, and gojo satoru is the most notorious bounty hunter there is. i imagine him (i’ll try to post a drawing soon) with a lot of cyber tech. his whole outfit would be black and he uses two guns, one with blue led lights and the other red (trying to get y’all to envision.) he’d also have his signature blindfold but instead, it comes in the form of cyber tech mask glasses that can dematerialize by pressing a button on the side (kinda like peter quill’s.)

he rarely ever misses when he shoots and he always catches the perps (nah, i’d win space edition.) and satoru is very serious abt his job (ik shocking but he’s gotta make that bag somehow and being a bounty hunter pays really well.) he’s very confident to say that nothing is able to distract or deter him from getting it done. but unfortunately for him, he has only one weakness. and that was alien girl puthayy 😛

see, the problem was, aliens and humans can not reproduce with one another. it wasn’t impossible, it was just against the rules. and by that definition, it also meant that it was illegal to have sex with one another. but let’s be fr, it’s going to happen whether it’s outlawed or not.

the first time satoru’s fucked an alien woman, it was at a strip club. as a man, he was curious to what it’d feel like to fuck one. and unfortunately for him, it was the best he’s ever had. it was his guilty pleasure, the one thing no-one could know about or else, it’d risk his job. but it was just too good. and where he used to jerk his cock off to human girls on his ship, now he does it thinking about alien girls. it always has him coming fast, and sometimes, just the thought can have him busting a nut in his pants, completely untouched.

he’s never had mind-blowing sex like that before in his life. the man is already a sex fanatic and craves it all the time (it helps him blow off steam), but he can’t cum when fucking regular human women anymore ;( it’s cause aliens were far more sensitive than humans, their senses advanced with the ability to feel more. and there was no feeling on earth (pun intended) like rutting into a warm cunt that was eager to suck him in, strangling his cock cuz some alien chick was horny out of her mind, pussy practically drooling all over him.

it’d have to be a secret though. and luckily for satoru, no one suspects someone like him, who’s job was to hunt down rogue aliens, to love sloppy extraterrestrial pussy.

satoru’s ship is made from the same advanced tech as his suit. it gets dirty from his constant partying and hook-ups. so, when he needs to get it checked cuz some huge beefy alien dude breaks his console during one of his ragers, he doesn’t bring it to the usual repair shop everyone goes to for their space ships. oh no no, he goes to one run by the other species.

there were a lot of hot ladies working there (because sexism doesn’t exist amongst aliens like at least they doing sumn right unlike us 😒) so, a lot of the times, his ship doesn’t end up fixed at the end.

he… likes to stay and watch them with dark, hooded eyes as they prance around his ship, eager to do their job. every once in a while, he’ll put a hand on their hip, letting it linger just long enough before pulling away when he comes over to “check on the progress.” the touch isn’t uninvited, he knows from the sultry gazes and flirty touches that are given in turn that they’re very much into him too.

it’s not long before he has them bent over the console, thrusting into the warm gooeyness of their sticky hole as they mewl and whine for more of his fat cock while he pinches their sensitive nipples ‘till they squirm.

they’re loud, and he loves it. it feeds his ego to know how hungry they are for him, for his cock. aliens were known for multiplying by the dozen, he assumes it has something to do with that. satoru’s thought about it before, breeding an alien. it was just a fantasy though, a fantasy that has him spilling his cum inside them on the spot, their needy whimpers begging him to.

that was his routine, catching criminals and fucking alien girl pussy on the side. and when his next mission entails finding some lady who stole some priceless piece of tech that could’ve sold for a lot, he was on board to find you right away (and that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you were smoking hot.)

it was easy for him to track you, he was the best at this job after all. you try to flee but he manhandles you against the wall, trapping you with your wrists pinned behind you, his chest up against your back. his warm breath hits your neck, panting from chasing you down. satoru’s eyes are dilated, but you’re unable to see with your cheek pressed against the cool metal in front of you.

this wasn’t what you had expected, you were caught so easily! it was a bad idea from the start, but it was either take a leap of faith and end up rich or be broke forever.

the pleas instantly leave your lips, begging to be let go. you didn’t want to go to prison. you were young and had so much to live for! (the two cents in your back pocket 😓) satoru listened, his cerulean eyes twinkling with amusement and poorly concealed arousal as you went on, swearing how you’d never do it again, that he could take back what you stole and forget it ever happened. he contemplated for a moment, choosing his cards carefully, before he’s leaning in next to your ear to whisper, “no can do, sweetheart.”

you shiver, and the atmosphere seems to change around you suddenly at the shift in his tone. a feeling you were all too familiar with stirs in your stomach, your body simply a slave to pleasure (curse your biology!) and the way he had spoken to you just then had you wet in a matter of seconds.

you try to compromise, “i’ll do anything!” it flies out of your mouth before you can even think. and he smirks, like he had been waiting for that the entire time.

“anything?”

and that’s how you end up getting railed by the human man who was sent to capture you.

“‘s so fucking good— fuck!”, he’s slurring by your ear, like he was getting drunk off of pounding into you. the thrusts were desperate, as if he could never get enough of your insides. satoru could stay like this forever, watching his cock slide in and out, stretching you open with his girth. he clings onto you like he never wants to let go, your wrists free and resting on the metal in front of you, the warm puffs of your breath condensing on the cold alloy. strong pale arms covered in high-tech were wrapped tightly around your waist while his hips thrust into you with a hungered fervor.

the tip of his mushroom head hits that spot inside you that has you seeing stars and absolutely gushing around him. he gives you a low groan of approval when you clench, “jus’ like that pretty, jus’ like that—”

then he lets you go after blowing a load inside you, leaving you with shaky legs and a throbbing for more. and you totally don’t start thieving more often just so he can come find you and do it all over again.

anyways, that is all i have for space bounty hunter gojo lol ₓₓ

[elvensorceress]

very late wip wednesday that is not wednesday at all I'm sorry but have snickerdoodles of longing?

@daisyssousa @spotsandsocks @eddiebabygirldiaz @tizniz @hippolotamus @chaosandwolves @smilingbuckley @rainbow-nerdss @singitforthegirls @bekkachaos @sunflower-eddiediaz @hotshotsxyz @epicbuddieficrecs @daffi-990 @blutterlie @exhuastedpigeon @thelikesofus @livinginsunnyhell 💕 On your left you will see ridiculous pining idiots sharing a bed and being oblivious 👍 and Eddie being Completely Normal about Buck having Feelings(tm) for someone…

Buck lies down and turns onto his side toward Eddie. “Just in my head.”

Eddie reaches out and runs his fingertips along Buck’s forehead. “You still thinking about the breakup? Because he wasn’t good enough for you. No one is. You deserve someone who gets how special you are. You’re a catch.”

Buck huffs but the hint of a smile touches him. “I wasn’t thinking about that. Haven’t thought about him in a while actually.”

That’s something at least. “Good. He didn’t know how lucky he was.”

Eddie doesn’t know why other than his constant urge to be affectionate especially when someone needs cheering up, but as soon as he thinks about how he should withdraw and stop touching Buck, his hand has other ideas. And he has to dip his fingers into Buck’s curls and rub his head.

They’re so soft and so perfect at this length. They could even be longer and Eddie could bury his hand in more of them. 

The look Buck gives him is too piercing. For a second, it strikes through Eddie like lightning. But it’s gone in the next instant. 

Buck noticeably swallows hard. “I don’t know. Maybe he was unlucky.”

“If you’re going to insult my best friend,” Eddie warns and contemplates making a fist in Buck’s hair for emphasis on the warning. He doesn’t. But he does think about it. 

“No, I didn’t mean like that.” Buck leans into Eddie’s hand and smiles, just a little. “Not, ‘he’s so unlucky being with me’ but like, what if— what if he was right? When he said he knew he wasn’t my last. What if he saw something? Or noticed something?”

Eddie’s thumb wanders and brushes over Buck’s cheekbone, all absentminded instinct. “What kind of something?” 

Buck’s eyes flutter and close for a moment before he takes Eddie’s hand and holds it still against his own chest. “S-so-something like, something I didn’t know. Or didn’t realize. I didn’t know I liked him at first. I had no idea that’s what I was feeling. And— a-and what if that happened again? What if he knew I wanted someone else? Or that I have feelings for someone who isn’t him? And that’s how he knew he wasn’t my last.” 

Someone else? 

There’s someone else? 

Eddie doesn’t know why. But he can’t breathe. Or move. He looks at his own hand, happily, eagerly pressed to Buck’s chest over his heart. “You—” he says but loses the rest of the words. All he can do is echo. “Someone else? There’s someone? A new someone? Another someone?”

Buck shrugs, waves it off, doesn’t meet Eddie’s eyes. “N-no. No, but. I don’t know. Hypothetically. I guess. What if that were the case? What if that’s what he thought? And that’s why he ended it.”

What if his ex thought Buck wanted someone else and that’s why he got dumped? It’s plausible? The more concerning thing about this however is, “You’re not thinking about calling him again. Are you? You’re not going to try and get back with him? Please tell me that’s not what this is. You’ve been working so hard. We’ve baked so many things.”

Buck turns pink and shakes his head. “No, that’s not— it’s not what I mean. That’s not the point. He’s not the point. I was just wondering, you know? Since he realized I was crushing on him but totally unaware of it. Maybe it happened again. Maybe he knew before I did. What I feel. In theory, I mean. He knew I have feelings for someone else, so he had to break it off. So— s-so? That would make the whole situation unlucky. For him. Or both of us. If we were both having unrequited feelings for different people.”

That’s— sensible? Also so much to think about. How can Eddie think about any of it. How can there be another person already? That’s three in less than a year. Eddie’s had three relationships in his whole life. How does anyone manage feeling like that? Feeling and then not feeling or feeling something else while still stuck in the first feeling or trying so hard to feel something when there were no feelings whatsoever and you were already thinking that feelings were horrible— it’s too much. Way too complicated. “I guess. That would be unlucky.”

“Right? Unlucky.” Buck nods. Somehow with the energy of a nervous, twitchy squirrel. 

“Is there someone else? Another someone?” Eddie asks again. Because he can’t stop thinking he’s also missed something. Or everything. When did Buck meet someone new? Why wouldn’t he have mentioned? Why, again, are they back to crushes and this person I just met five seconds ago really sees me and unrequited— wait. “There is someone. How would you know it’s unrequited unless you have someone specific in mind?”

Buck lets go of Eddie’s hand. In fact, he moves Eddie’s hand back to his side of the bed and then deliberately lets go of it. “I was just wondering. It’s hypothetical. There isn’t anyone. I’m tired, aren’t you tired? We should sleep, yeah? Goodnight, Eds.” He turns away and switches off the lights and stays on his side with his back to Eddie.

Eddie pokes him in the back where he’s sensitive and ticklish. “You’re a fucking terrible liar.”

Buck bats his hand away and yawns. “Aaahhhmmmm not. So sleepy. Not lying. Sleeping.” 

Are they the fourteen year olds now? Eddie tugs the blankets around himself and wriggles on his back to get comfortable. “Whatever. You brought it up.”

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Naive - L.C

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

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

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

-2024 Masterlist-

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

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

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

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

“A-asshole is too kind.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are we best friends again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right, how is he?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least, you thought he was.

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

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

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

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

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

“You were?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because…he looked honest.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Urethra.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And what treatment is that?”

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

“I’m not a baby.”

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

“You’re seriously ridiculous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Auntie? What is it? What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

So, you wait.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry I didn’t finish it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You do it to me all the time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Photos?” You repeat disbelievingly.

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

“My bedroom?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The news comes only a few days later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“Then what? I’m confused, Chan.”

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Won’t that hurt you?”

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

“What if it doesn’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything comes back to you all at once.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It scares the shit out of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel sick to your stomach.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re stuck here.

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

You’re stuck here. For good.

Forever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @tusswrites

[illbegottenfaith]

lucky pt 3 - theo nott x reader

Theo doesn’t seem to care about you, and you can only lie to yourself that it doesn’t bother you for so long

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

a/n - the final part! so happy to finally write a happy ending :’) wasn’t planning on writing this until my finals were over but um here we are 🙈

tropes/warnings - tw smoking, a lil slapstick comedy ft the other slytherin boys, slight platonic hurt/comfort, angst, soft ‘smut’ (quite mild idt it warrants an 18+ tag)

word count - 3.4k

Two can play a game.

A week had passed since you submitted your Potions project, and after that one night of Theo staying up to help you, things went back to going from bad to worse. What were once paltry tiffs had now disappeared altogether. Theo attended and left lessons as if you didn’t exist. And you supposed you didn’t. At least, not to him.

Ivy worried over you, bless her. She’d noticed how listless and distracted you’d gotten, how much more prone you were to staying holed up in your room, how exhausted you seemed by the most mundane tasks. But this was something even she couldn’t help with. No one could help, you decided mournfully, resting your head against your dorm’s cool window pane. So here you were, staring out the window at 6.30 am on a Monday morning with irritated and aching eyes after a restless night of tossing and turning.

That was when you decided that the only thing there was to be done in a situation like this was to do what you did best - going head-to-head with Theodore Nott. He wasn’t the only one who could play at being emotionally avoidant, and it would be a cold day in hell before you let Theodore Nott best you in anything, including this.

And ignore him you did. You didn’t know or care if he noticed, but soon your already limited interactions became highly unabsorbing and apathetic. You barely acknowledged him in your shared classes. You matched every careless toss of his head with one of your own. As little as Theo cared, you could care even less. 

Finals came and went. The morning after your last paper Ivy came barging into your room, demanding you come for an end-of-semester gathering by the Great Lake the next day. No amount of begging or burying your head in your pillow seemed to deter her. She was determined to see you there even if she had to drag you out herself, the recluse that you had become. She finally left after you very unsportingly relented and unsuccessfully tossed a book at her head.

You were already regretting being worn down by the next morning when you were deciding what to wear. Was Theo going to be there? Not that it mattered. You weren't about to pick an outfit around a guy who may or may not be present.

You met Ivy and Katie near the castle entrance and once you started walking down to the lake, you started feeling better about your decision. The weather was surprisingly cooperative and it was perfect picnic weather, if a little windy. It was a little early, only shortly after breakfast, and the refreshments were still being set up. From the few that had already arrived, it seemed to be a rather intimate gathering of mostly familiar faces. If you were especially lucky, Theodore Nott might not make an appearance at all.

You watched a group of Slytherin boys flail and struggle to set up a folding picnic table and put a sheet over it. Enzo Berkshire had flopped onto the table to stop the sheet from flying off while the table groaned underneath his weight. Draco Malfoy was crossly telling him off and trying to get him to stand while Mattheo Riddle stood a little to the side, still frowning over the table's instructions. Draco had now moved onto threats when there was a terrible creaking sound and the table collapsed under Enzo.

"I was just about to say," Matheo started offhandedly, while Enzo moaned pitifully, "I don't think we put the table together right."

"I told you we should have waited for Theo."

Speak of the devil.

“Ladies,” Theo drawled from behind, in his appealingly lazy accent. You turned to see Theodore in a relaxed button-down folded at the elbow, wearing a simple but likely designer pair of black sunglasses, holding a red solo cup. You instinctively glanced at his tanned forearms before snapping your gaze back to his face. Did he notice? It was hard to tell with the sunglasses.

“Hi, Theo,” Ivy said awkwardly when you stubbornly refused to respond. “What's that you got there?”

"Punch. Enzo had me taste test it."

"Oh. Is it good?"

He gave a wry smile. You wanted to roll your eyes. You had no patience to tolerate his irritating posh affectations.

"A little strong for my taste, but it'll do."

"Have you seen Ivan?"

He waved his hand carelessly. “He’s…around.” He turned, peering in the distance. “Right. There he is, by the steps. He’s bringing the drinks.”

“I’ll go help him!” Before you could reel Ivy back in and threaten her to stay with you, she was already halfway down the path, heading straight for her boyfriend. You scowled, your impassive mask shattering. You turned back to see Theo grinning at you with his stupidly mysterious sunglasses and you shot him a dirty look. 

“Nice weather we’re having, hm?”

You schooled your features and shrugged noncommittally. The silence stretched unbearably between the two of you. Theo vaguely gestured to the boys with his cup.

“I should help them with the table."

You stayed tight-lipped, refusing to give in to the sense of camaraderie he seemed to be trying to foster with you. After all, you weren't friends. He made sure of that.

As he set his cup down and started looking over the instructions with Mattheo, Ivy returned, drinks and Ivan in tow.

“Punch?”

You raised your eyebrows. Even from a distance, the bowl reeked of booze. Still, you accepted a cup, downing it even as your eyes watered. You pulled a face.

“Merlin, that’s awful. Pour me another.”

You ended up sitting in a cluster of lawn chairs around a picnic blanket with Ivy, Katie and some other girls in your year. You were all giddily tipsy and in very silly moods, gossiping and swapping terrible first date stories.

The drunker and drunker you got, the harder it was to pull your eyes away from Theo. After all, as your inhibitions dissolved, what was there to stop you from glaring a hole into his skull?

Not that he noticed. He was sitting some distance away with his own friends, examining the bottom of his red Solo cup disinterestedly. The other Slytherin boys were absorbed in a spirited game of Exploding Snap. In the unassuming midday sun creeping up on them, he was a refreshing sight, sleek and cool in ways mere mortals could only dream of wishing for.

You scoffed under your breath. What, were his childhood friends too boring for him? Was that it? Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? You had half a mind to strip naked and run into the lake. Maybe that would finally be captivating enough for the oh-so-hard-to-impress Theodore Nott. 

How many other girls did he help write essays for late into the night, letting them doze, holding their hand? You shook yourself. He never held your hand. He helped you with your project, brought you breakfast, and that was it. Still, your gaze stayed fixed on the back of your hand. Whatever possessed you to think he held your hand?

The sky had gotten a little cloudy. Theo pulled off his sunglasses, blinking, and cast his eyes around, looking for a place to put them. Finally, he settled on hooking them on the open collar of his shirt and looked rather pleased with himself. It was almost endearing.

Your gut told you to avert your gaze, but you didn't, and the next second his gaze was on you. For the first time in weeks, his eyes met yours, intense and unforgiving. You told yourself it was just his gaunt complexion and bruise-like eyebags, but that didn’t stop your throat from seizing with some inexplicable want. Even when he moved away to rejoin his friends, your skin tingled; your body positively thrummed with it. Any hope of playing at sanity was out the window at this point. No, you just had to accept that the two of you would always be unfinished business.

But that was it - he wasn’t playing at this like you were. This was all a pretence for you; the unaffected stares, the nonchalant nods, the afterthought smiles. This was all just you pretending you weren’t watching his every move. Pretending your attention wouldn’t stay fixed on him in a room full of burning bodies.

But he wasn’t pretending. Not for one second.

All of a sudden, you felt queasy. You were going to be sick.

"Y/N?" Ivy was saying, looking concerned as you unsteadily got to your feet. You could feel the back of your neck prickling with Theo still watching you.

"I'm - I'm fine," you slurred, fanning yourself weakly. "Stay - I'm okay. Just...s'hot. Need to -" 

You put your cup down somewhere, stumbling back to the castle as fast as you could, your head spinning as the ground wobbled dangerously under you. You weren't sure how but you somehow made it to your dorm, flung open the bathroom door and reached the toilet just as your stomach started emptying its contents. 

You vaguely registered that you had never been this drunk - it felt like you were slipping in and out of consciousness. You were only distantly aware of a familiar pair of hands holding your hair back, rubbing soothing circles on your back as you heaved. It was a cathartic kind of release, a purging of all the toxic anxiety that had been festering inside of you. And just like that, a dam broke. You started crying, sobbing like the world was ending, slumped against your best friend.

“Oh, Y/N…”

“I don’t understand,” you choked out, leaning your forehead against the tiled bathroom wall. “Why doesn’t he like me anymore? Why does he h-hate me?”

Ivy delicately smoothed some of your unruly hair down. “He doesn’t hate you, honey.”

“I’m not a k-kid, Ivy," you hiccuped. "You don’t have to lie to protect my feelings.”

Ivy hugged you close as you sniffled. “I’m going to kill that asshole if Ivan doesn’t beat me to it.”

“No,” you said in a shaky voice, gingerly sitting up. “Promise me you won’t tell Ivan.”

“Y/N - “

“They’re friends! I don’t want to spoil that for him.”

“Trust me, if he knew what Theo was doing, he wouldn’t be feeling all that friendly.”

“Don’t, Ivy,” you pleaded. “This is just…it’s just between us. I’m fine, I swear.”

Ivy looked highly unconvinced. You let out a frustrated sigh.

“Look, at least give me a week to work through this on my own, alright? Then you can sic your boyfriend on Nott.”

“You’ve already had your week. Weeks, in fact.”

“Ivy.”

She pursed her lips. “Fine.”

You felt a lot more sober after throwing up. But you still weren't feeling up to returning to the party, so once you finally managed to shake Ivy off, you wandered the deserted halls of Hogwarts. Just like that one evening lifetimes ago, when Mattheo had insinuated Theo might have a thing for you in the library, you ended up at the Astronomy Tower.

It was peaceful. You could see why Theo liked to come up here to think. You looked up as you heard a scuffling sound from behind one of the pillars, near one of the stone arch windowsills. You walked over to find Theo sitting there, smoking, his long legs barely fitting across the length of the window. He didn't expect to see you either, if the way the cigarette was dangling from his lips was any indication.

“Put that out.”

It was the first thing you had said to him in weeks. You felt almost as surprised as he looked. He started, as if he had forgotten about the cigarette, and took another puff.

“I said,” you started again, half-heartedly raising your voice, “put that out.”

It was weak and unsurprisingly ineffective. If Theo picked up on what it truly was, a plea for normalcy, he didn’t let on.

Your already thin patience snapped. You stalked over, stealing the cigarette from his lax fingers. What you weren't expecting was Theo's fingers closing around your other wrist and firmly pulling you down to press his mouth hard against yours. It was a clumsy mess of teeth and tongues as you ungracefully reached for his arms to steady yourself. His grip lessened when he got the inkling you weren't about to pull away and sock him in the jaw. His hands drifted to your waist as the two of you fumbled for a more proper kiss. You could taste the lingering salt of the cigarette and your senses felt overwhelmed by the distinct feel of Theodore Nott.

“Tesoro -“ he wheezed, twisting away from where your hand had dropped to his bicep, the smouldering cigarette having singed through his shirt.

“Shit, sorry. How do you -?”

Theo plucked the cigarette from your hand and dropped it on the floor, grinding it with the heel of his shoe. He looked up to where you were still hovering above him before pulling you down into his lap by your hips. He grabbed your wrists, placing your hands on his shoulders, and you had to bite back a smile over how adorably particular he was.

“Telling me where to place my hands? And I thought I was the bossy one.”

Theo quirked an eyebrow. "Maybe I'm just sick of waiting." He tipped his head back against the rough stone wall. "And...wanting."

You smoothed a thumb across his collarbone, not missing the way he shivered under your touch. “So what do you want, Nott?”

He tipped you forward, kissing you much more properly this time. You didn't bother pulling much away as you broke apart, whispering with your faces inches away.

“We're actually doing this.”

“Seems so.”

He cupped your face, swiping a thumb under your eyes as his expression flickered.

“Were you…crying?”

You sniffed, dragging his hand off your face, and looking away. "Just - allergies."

Theo blinked, watching your face with a stunned (and slightly dumb) expression as if you hadn't said anything.

“But you never cry.”

You gave a bitter smile. “Congratulations, Nott. You’re officially the first person to ever reduce me to tears.” You desperately hoped he would drop the subject. Just talking about it was enough to make you want to start sobbing again.

"Did someone say something to you? I swear I - it's not because of me, is it?"

Your face crumpling was the only confirmation he needed. “It was like you - I don’t know. Like you hated me, or something.”

Theo captured your hands in his own where they had slid down to his chest. “I….hate you?”

“Or something. Probably the something.”

“But - why? How? If anything, I’d say you hated me.”

Your lips parted as your brow furrowed. “What gave you that idea?”

“What gave me the - I don’t know, all the scowling? The glaring? The snide remarks? The bodily harm?”

You flushed at the memory of the Potions storeroom incident. You could kind of see his point. “That was one time.”

“You owe me new pants, by the way. New pants and a new di-“

You muffled his rant with a kiss and instantly felt him relax beneath you, the tension and annoyance draining from his limbs as he moulded your body to fit more perfectly against his. So eager, so insistent, so different from the past couple of weeks. 

“I don’t know," you started once you pulled away. "This felt worse than hate. It felt like…like you couldn’t even be bothered to hate me." You swallowed hard, eyes fixed on where you were fidgeting with the edge of his shirt's collar. "As if that was how little you thought of me.”

"Mia cara," he sighed, almost dejectedly. "Small is the last thing I think of you." He ran a hand through his hair frustratedly, searching for the right words.

“I’m not good at expressing…fondness.”

“No. You don’t say.”

He wet his lips. You could see the smile he was holding back.

“I’m not good at being honest or direct. Everything - my mind, it’s a mess, it’s always about what I want, and how to get what I want, I never - I never meant to make you feel that way."

Maybe it was still all part of some elaborate scam. But sitting there with the rough stone arch digging into your sensitive skin, the distant scent of holding Theo's face in your hands like he was moonlight, you believed him. You didn't even have to try. You just did.

“I’m not used to playing the part of the fool, bella. But when I see you smile, or read, or fiddle with your hair…" He reached out to free the lock of hair you were nervously tugging on, "...I never feel more foolish.”

"I don't think I've ever hated you either, for the record," you said, smoothing out his shirt where you had crumpled it in your fists. "I might have thought I did, but..." you trailed off, looking into his mesmerisingly blue eyes. No, you decided softly, you never could hate the boy.

"I never thought anything could come of us. You were - you are - so brilliant. You're on the road to brilliant things. I was only going to get in the way. And...I don't think I could live with myself if I did." He glanced up and, seeing the crestfallen look on your face, hastily amended his statement.

"That, and you had no patience for pretty boys.”

You scoffed half-heartedly. “I have no patience for you, either.”

Theo grinned, shifting you up his lap, as if you could never be close enough to him. He looked so carefree you couldn’t hold back a small smile of your own. “You keep me so humble.”

“I try.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, tracing burning expanses of skin, staring at each other like you could never get your fill. You’d occasionally press soft kisses down his neck and jaw while his hands would drift up your ribcage or down your thighs. Both of you moved at an unhurried pace, because now you had all the time in the world to have and hold each other.

“It’s getting late,” you murmured, hours later, now tucked into Theo’s side as you lightly traced shapes on his chest. It was pleasantly warm and given the late hour, you could feel your eyelids growing heavier. When he didn't respond, you lifted your head.

Beneath you, Theo breathed deeply and evenly, looking half-asleep. You rolled your eyes and gave him a hard jab in the ribs.

“Hey. Nott.”

Theo grunted, stirring, swatting your hand away. You grinned to yourself - annoying Theo would never lose its appeal. Eyes still closed, his hand haphazardly searched for you to once again pull you against him. You ignored his efforts, deliberately unhelpful.

“You need to pick another name, y’know. This whole last-name business isn’t going to fly as my girlfriend.”

You felt yourself unreasonably perk up over his words. “Your girlfriend? Me?”

He cracked an eye open. “I thought the exclusivity thing was obvious. You're a serial monogamist.”

“Yeah, but you’re not.”

Theo groaned, too tired to keep up with you. He rolled you onto your back and propped himself up with a forearm. You giggled softly, flustered by the heat in his gaze.

“Then I guess you’re lucky I like kissing you the best, amore.”

He dropped his head, and you got the distinct impression you could never tire of the feel of his hands and lips on you. 

“What were you saying before?” Theo inquired, while his hands continued their distracting exploration under your clothes.

“It’s late.”

“Right.”

“You have Charms right after breakfast. We should,” your breath hitched, “um, go to bed.”

Theo grumbled something in the crook of your neck, sending the most delicious vibrations down your spine.

"Fine," you sighed, encircling your arms around his neck. "Five more minutes."

He barely made it in time for Charms the next morning.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Twisted Weddings: Photoshoot #1 - Quite the Image

Summary: Your first photoshoot was going to be with Trey. The question was whether the presence of the bicycle or exactly how good he looked in a suit was more startling, and the bicycle really seemed to be winning. Either way, you could only hope your first attempt at modeling went pseudo-well.

Type: Female reader/ 800 Followers Event/ Series/ sfw/ fluff/ light-flirtation

Twisted Weddings Series Masterlist

Word count: 1346

“So… A bike,” Trey eyed the bicycle that was leaned against a pole as I shifted. Doing my best to not continue eyeing him. But, to be fair, I’d never actually seen Trey in a suit before. Much less one that was tailored specifically to make him look his absolute best.

I’d been impressed enough when I’d seen the gown I was wearing. A slim-fitting dress with fluttery, sheer sleeves that could get caught in even the smallest of breezes and made for a rather dreamy-looking dress.

And the embarrassing thing was that I knew that both it and I looked nice. Trey’s reaction could have only been so faked.

I could only hope that I hadn’t been as obvious in my surprise at how nice he looked. At the very least, I knew I hadn’t openly gaped at him.

“Maybe we’re both going to be riding it for the photo?” I stepped over next to Trey. Eyeing the lone visible prop for our photoshoot.

An old-looking bicycle.

Trey shook his head though, a slight frown on his face, “I doubt it. Your skirt might get caught in the wheel or something….”

He trailed off, glancing my way with a half smile as he tilted his head, “It probably would be a cute photo though.”

I nodded, quietly agreeing with him as I did my best to ignore the way the slight breeze ruffled my sleeves as he hummed thoughtfully.

“I guess it could be a picture of us walking together while pushing a bike?” He hardly sounded confident in his theory, but I felt myself nod, crossing my arms slightly as I continued to eye the bicycle.

But unfortunately, there was no telling exactly what Crewel had planned.

“Alright, Pups!” Me and Trey both jerked upright as Crewel strolled out of the building and over to where we were standing. Almost as if he’d been signaled by my thoughts that right now was the perfect time to make his appearance.

Trey and I turned together, both looking towards our instructor, and the man who skittered after him with all sorts of photography-related paraphernalia at the same time. And all at once I realized this was actually happening. As if the wedding clothes hadn’t been enough.

I was going to be featured heavily as a model in a photoshoot for Crewel’s latest designs for bridal clothes.

Trey and I briefly exchanged glances before we looked back towards our instructor who stopped in front of us. Almost as if we were thinking the same thing. But neither of us spoke as Crewel began to explain.

“I’m sure the two of you have already realized that you have this bicycle as your prop,” Crewel gestured idly to the bicycle, and we both nodded. With me glancing back at it and idly wondering exactly how this was going to work.

Me and Trey both looked towards Crewel for explanation, though. But both of us knew that Crewel was going to tell us how we were going to be posed and what we were going to be doing.

And he wasted no time in doing just that, “Good. Y/n. You get on the bike first. Trey, you’ll be behind them and actually pedaling.”

Trey hesitated slightly, glancing over at me worriedly before he looked towards Crewel, “But… Professor, won’t Y/n’s skirt get caught in the wheels?”

Crewel’s eyebrows arched at the young man next to me, and I shifted, idly scooting backwards as Crewel crossed his arms and eyed Trey, “Y/n is going to be riding side-saddle, Mr. Clover. Her skirt is slim-fitting and will take care of itself.”

Trey nodded, his eyes widening slightly before he turned, his gaze barely meeting mine as he made a slight face before reaching over and rolling the bike over so that I could perch on it carefully. All while Crewel continued.

“Both of you will need to ignore the photographer. He’s going to be snapping pictures the very moment the two of you are on the bike, but you need to pretend like he isn’t here. Do NOT look at the camera.”

I nodded lightly, balancing myself carefully. And the very moment I was balanced, Trey was on the bike behind me, bumping me slightly as he muttered apologies, and I shook my head. Scooting forward to try and give him more only to almost slide off the seat.

I could hear the camera snapping in the background as Trey caught me with an arm around my waist, laughing slightly as I gripped the handlebars in front of me and he pushed off.

The bicycle wobbled as he pedaled, and I tried to steer us in a reasonably straight path before he reached forward and grabbed the handle-bars as I slowly got tickled at exactly how bad we were doing.

But it was like something as simple as riding a bicycle had suddenly become impossibly difficult now that we were being looked at. 

My arms rested lightly on the front of the bicycle as I giggled, my laughter causing Trey to start chuckling behind me even as I heard Crewel release a sigh of long suffering as we came to a stop. Both of us laughing as the bicycle rocked to the side for what had to be the thousandth time.

I leaned back, sighing slightly as I twisted to see Crewel walking towards us before I glanced at Trey, “Think we’re in trouble?”

He shook his head, a smile still on his face as he offered a only slightly guilty-looking half shrug. But before either he or Crewel could speak, the photographer was piping up.

“Mr. Crewel, I actually got some good shots there!” Crewel stopped, his eyebrows arching as he looked at the photographer with almost the same degree of surprise as I felt.

Nonetheless, the man trotted over, showing Crewel the screen of his camera as he spoke, “All of these pictures show a certain degree of happiness wedding photos don’t often have due to how staged they are. These two actually look like a happy young couple having some fun on their big day.”

Crewel nodded as he looked through the pictures before pointing at one in particular, “This one.”

Apparently understanding, the photographer nodded, “Yes, I liked that one too. The way he’s smiling down at the young lady is particularly nice here, and they are just starting to laugh.”

“The wind also caught both the sleeves and the edge of the skirt nicely too,” Crewel paused, looking up at us with slightly arched eyebrows. “It looks like you’ve both lucked up. There are some good pictures here.”

“So we’re free to go?”  Trey looked about as hesitant as I felt, but Crewel nodded. 

“Since the photos are good, you’re done.” He paused, his gaze shifting to me as he tilted his head, “And how do you feel about going ahead and getting another photo-shoot done today, Pup?”

I hesitated before I nodded, “Yeah, that should be fine.”

“Alright then, and good work Mr. Clover,” I felt myself grin over at Trey who looked at me with a sigh. Like he knew perfectly well to expect teasing.

“Looking forward to becoming a poster boy for grooms everywhere?” I nudged with my shoulder as we both walked back towards the campus proper to get changed. Him back into his normal clothes and me into a different wedding gown.

He chuckled, only slightly flustered before he grinned over at me, a glint of meanness entering his honey-colored eyes, “Not as much as I’m looking forward to getting to see everyone else’s faces at the dorm.”

I blinked, tilting my head curiously at him, “You're heading back to the dorm to show the guys your suit?”

He chuckled again, shaking his head, “No. I meant when they see our pictures. Apparently we cut quite the image as a young couple.”

It was a fight not to shove him for his teasing, but I took it with only a slight bit of embarrassment.

After all, he was just quoting the photographer.

If you would like to read more

Previous

Next: Coming Soon!

[fishysaltine]

Honestly I’ve always seen Bloodbath (or the kill Zara quest) as Illario’s final desperate attempt to be swayed form his plan. It kind of reminds me of Solas and Varric’s note of him in the beginning of the game “he just needs someone to give him a different option”

Like Illario is genuinely upset about this whole thing. He thought Lucanis was dead, and we see that he was such a chronically depressed alcoholic yapper after Lucanis’ death that even though he did give the hit, he at least regretted it or it didn’t sit well with him. (I have no doubt Zara manipulated him to some extent into it, since she has her eyes on Lucanis after the Wigmaker job anyway, but neither Zara or Illario are actually explored in game). But when Illario is taking us to the boat, he makes note of saying Catarina didn’t tell him because “I would have tried to save him.” The way he says that line is in a COMPLETELY different tone than anything else he says. It’s stern and to the point, not condescending like after Illario takes out Zara and talks down on Lucanis, telling him he’s a danger and liability.

If Illario knew Lucanis was actually alive, he probably would have killed Zara earlier. And Zara obviously KNEW THIS because she didn’t tell Illario Lucanis was ALIVE for that very reason. Illario never knew about Spite. He never planned for the Ossuary. He never meant for that to happen! Zara knew that whatever Illario and she had going on would never even be close to the bond Lucanis and Illario have, and Illario would put that over power every single time.

Almost every single time.

Because he knows what he did, and he still goes out for coffee with Lucanis and the weirdo rando that saved him. And then he tries to convince Lucanis to stay away from Zara, because he knows that Zara is capable of and how not only she can, but has hurt Lucanis. (She turned his big brother into an abomination!)

WAIT A MINUTE WHO ELSE DOES THAT? Lucanis does! Except Lucanis is more direct about it. Says that Zara might come after him. Illario tries to convince Lucanis she’s in fuckass land, get him out of the situation ENTIRELY involving Antiva, the Anntam, First Talon. Yeah, there’s probably a selfish motivation, but in Wigmaker Illario is so fucking scared Lucanis is going to essentially fling himself off a cliff, there’s a genuine “heyy can you take a holiday? Can you stop being passively suicidal for me, your little cousin? Can we stop with the ‘death is my calling’ shit?”

Of course Illario can’t just go “uhh I’ll take care of it dw bro” because to Lucanis the beef with Illario and Zara isn’t merely as personal as he (and Spites) beef with her. They really just want to protect one another and get their dues.

Illario killing Zara wasn’t so much for him. I mean she kind of played him, but whatever, it didn’t necessarily affect Illario in anyway, it was for Lucanis. A way to try and appease the guilt of something that he never intended to happen to his older brother. That’s why Illario wants to be there during Bloodbath. “It’s Crow business” aka ‘WHY ARE YOU TAKING WEIRDO RANDO 1 & 2 OVER ME? I deserve to be at your side, I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth and back, why won’t you let me anymore?’

So Illario meets Lucanis and his rando friends on the rooftop. Lucanis asks him what he’s doing there- and Illario says he wants to go. He’s so desperate to go, to prove his alliance to his big brother cousin. But that’s not all. Lucanis has been gone for a year, and then left immediately. Killing and missions, being Crow’s is one of the main ways Lucanis and Illario bond.

Illario has never felt good enough. For his grandmother, for Lucanis, for anyone. That’s why he started this mess. Zara tells him Lucanis doesn’t think he’s good enough, he never will be, until he does the most Crow thing ever and cuts him out of the family line. Then finally, maybe, when his cousin’s eyes are glassy and corpse empty, will they be filled with approval.

But Lucanis is right here (with two randos)! And Illario asks him to involve him, just looking for that smidge of approval. And Lucanis says no. Ok. Cool! Maybe he just wants you safe. Fine, whatever. But you’re capable- at least you think you are.

So you ask the damning question. “You think I’m not good enough?”

And your cousin, your big brother, simply says: “Are you?”

While surely a good natured jab from Lucanis as siblings do, had Lucanis’ answer been anything even close to praise or more concern, I think Illario would’ve been fine to step out of the way. ALL he needed was Lucanis’ mild assurance/approval. Just a ‘oh no, you’re good enough. I just don’t want you getting hurt is all’

But he doesn’t say that. He simply feeds into the very insecurity that sent Illario to selling him out, the very one that Zara told him but he never quite believed until the words came from Lucanis’ mouth. ‘You’re not good enough to stand by my side anymore.’ And potentially ‘I’ve replaced you with rando 1 & 2, I don’t need you anymore’

So then he doubles down. No more playing nice cousin or big brother little brother. If Lucanis doesn’t want Illario by his side anymore- fuck it, Illario doesn’t need him. Lucanis saying Illario isn’t good enough isn’t just a blow to his ego, or self confidence/self esteem, it’s a flat out rejection. So he takes the kill from Lucanis, and essentially tells him to get the fuck out of dodge or else, and then tries to strong arm first Talon.

Lucanis never quite gives Illario “the different option.” Illario throws their bond away not because he necessarily wants to, but because he thinks Lucanis’ threw it away first, and that he’s just folding onto a frayed rope (not even mentioning how Illario crosses out Lucanis’ name in the family line, showing how he just… almost doesn’t exist. He’s gone to Illario. Illario’s so hurt by everything he just wants Lucanis gone at this point, come hell or high water.)

Lucanis quite literally says that the only way Catarina would be proud of Illario is if he kills her, and if that extends to Lucanis, so be it.

[darksigns-exe]

35. you know where to find me - jolly karlsson x readder

warnings: handjobs (m receiving), oral sex (m receiving), swearing, a little bit of angst

word count: 1.3k

note: for @baddestomens 🩷

masterlist | (not so) secret prompt fics masterlist | taglist sign-up

You’ve known Jolly for ages. 

Seeing him this defeated actually broke your heart a little. You know how much hope he had placed into this fledgling relationship. Sure, you can’t imagine that dating someone with a schedule as packed as his is easy, but that doesn’t mean that he deserves to be shot down like that. 

He’d shown you the messages when he’d shown up at your door late at night. She hadn’t even managed to tell him in person that this couldn’t work no matter how hard we try – her words. 

Being the ever faithful friend you are, you had offered him the pull-out sofa in your living room for as long as he wanted it. You’d prepared everything for him, after you had ushered him into the bathroom, insisting that a shower would make him feel at least a little bit better. 

By the time he re-emerged from the bathroom, you had put one of your pillows and your comfiest duvet out for him. The crease is still present in his brow, but he looks a little less broken. 

You wrap him into a tight hug, not allowing any discussions. 

“Get some sleep. You know where to find me if you need me.” you tell him, trying not to sound as if you pity him too much. 

He mumbles a quiet thank you, before you leave him alone for the night. He knows your place well enough to not feel like a stranger, he’ll be okay. 

You can’t tell how late it is when the door to your bedroom opens with a creak. Jolly pushes into your room, quietly closing the door behind him. 

“Do you mind if I sleep here?” 

You scoot over, without giving him a reply. Jolly doesn’t make a move forward until you pat the now empty side of the bed.

He finds a comfortable spot quite quickly, only shifting around for a few moments. You can barely make out the features of his face in the dim light, but the frown on his face is still so very obvious.

“I don’t want to feel alone tonight.” he says quietly. 

In all the years you have known him, you’ve never seen him like this. 

You reach out, placing your hand against his cheek. Jolly practically sinks into your touch. Deep down, you know that you shouldn’t do this, you shouldn’t even be thinking about this when he’s still hurting this much. 

You feel a hand curling around your waist. 

“Can I do something to help?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady. 

You can’t deny that Jolly is attractive, he’s charming and caring and really everything you’re looking for. And maybe that had been part of the reason why you had never tried to move this into a different direction. He gets fawned over by so many people that little old you can’t be that impressive.

You’re his friend. 

Friends don’t touch each other like this, though. 

Jolly’s hand dips under your shirt. 

Your thoughts are a constant loop of we shouldn't we shouldn’t we shouldn’t.  

His hand flexes on your waist, “We shouldn’t” he says quietly. 

“I know.”  

His hand slowly moves upwards, as if he’s waiting for you to tell him to stop. But you can’t, and you know that you won’t ask him to stop. 

You force yourself to sit up eventually. For a moment, you think that he looks a little disappointed that you’re breaking away from him so quickly. 

“Will you let me do something for you?” you ask, trying to hide the shakiness of your voice, behind a brave face. 

“I – yes. Sure.” he sounds just as nervous as you feel. 

“On your back.” you say then, already moving yourself into position, “This is – it’s not crossing any lines. It’s just —”

“Just something between friends.” 

You swallow down the stinging. Without you needing to say anything about it, Jolly seems to know what you want from him. He quickly slips out of his sweats and underwear. You feel your insides heat when you let your eyes wander across his body. You’ve seen him without a shirt plenty of times. Seeing him entirely bare now makes your head spin. 

His eyes stay fixed on you when you trail your fingers up his thighs. You feel his skin prickle beneath your fingers, hairs standing upright in the wake of your touch. 

You finally build up the courage to wrap your hand around his cock. 

Jolly draws in a sharp breath, and you can’t help but smile a little. 

His skin is warm under your palm. With a little spit, you soon find a comfortable rhythm. You keep your movements slow, trying to draw things out just a little bit. It’s selfish, really, but watching his breath quicken with every pass of your hand over the head of his cock is just too delicious. His staggered breathing quickly turns into moans. Jolly rubs a hand across his face, while the other grips into the duvet next to him. 

“Fuck, your hand feels so good.” he groans. 

You drag your thumb across the tip, smearing the precum that has leaked from his across his skin. His hips buck up against your hand so desperately. You almost want to give in and ask him if he needs more, but having this man at your mercy is just too good of a sight. 

You decide to keep one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, while the other works across his length in slow, steady movements. From the sounds he makes, it must be just enough to keep him on the edge, but not enough for him to finish. And that’s exactly where you intend to keep him for the moment. 

His sighs and groans fill your head with fuzz. You briefly consider slipping a hand between your thighs, but ultimately decide that this moment is just about him. 

“Getting close?” you ask after a while. 

You’re happy to keep touching him like this, but you also don’t want to turn a good thing bad. 

“Just a little more. I’m so close.” 

He sounds as if he’s barely keeping himself together at this point. If he wants more, you’ll give him more. You lean down, dragging the flat of your tongue across his tip. 

In response, Jolly draws in a shaky gasp. 

You had hoped that he’d react like that. You repeat the motion, until you’ve built up the courage to take him between your lips. It doesn’t take a lot of this for him to fall over the edge. 

Jolly spills across your tongue. The groans that fall from his lips are interrupted by curses in his native tongue. You can feel his thighs flex around you as he struggles against the instinct to push his hips upwards. 

You’re just as breathless when you pull away from him. 

His head is tipped back, his neck exposed so beautifully. 

You untangle yourself from him, returning to your original position next to him. Jolly stares at the ceiling for a moment longer, before he finally looks at you. 

“Thank you, dear. Fuck that was – that was so good.” 

His chest heaves, as he comes down from his high. You don’t think that he’s ever been more beautiful. 

“Always happy to help out.” you offer. 

The wording feels so clumsy, but you suddenly don’t know how to move on from this situation. In the corner of your vision, you can just see Jolly struggling back into his underwear. Once he’s done, he flips onto his side, patting the spot in front of him. 

“Come here, will you?” he asks softly. 

You can’t possibly say no to him. 

As soon as you’re within reach, he wraps an arm around your middle, pulling you even closer against him. 

“We’ll talk about this in the morning. You might have to give me a little while to get over this, but – I don’t think that this has to be a one time thing. If you want that.” 

His hand is so warm and comfortable on your belly, it eases the rabbit quick beat of your heart at least a little. 

“Try to get some sleep. We have all the time in the world.”

taglist: @deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens

@malice-ov-mercy @chels3a-smile @ferduttini @somebodyels3 @itsafullmoon

@shilohrosechicken @poisongirl616 @mysticdoodlez @agravemisstake @th4t-em0-k1d

@thisbicc @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @mrsnoahsebastian @blackveilomens @sorrowsofsilence

@fadingangelwisp @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @thisisntablogspost @tintadecirco

@rumoured-whispers @cheyyyyr @mathfairchild1 @thewrstinme @Follow-me-down-to-wonderland

[syndrossi]

if it’s official for Remorse AU (aka in which Rhea doesn’t die and is with the boys right before Crayne takes them and then Daemon and her get the boys back and the happy family go to KL together)

so, certain things that i wanted to discuss or add or question or whatnot:

Daemon being so afraid and paranoid that Rhea will one day end up taking the boys and running again, like it should be impossible, especially when they get to the Red Keep. but anything could happen and that terrifies him and does not do well to develop his relationship with his sons mother.

likewise, Rhea being afraid that now that Daemon is apart of the twins’ lives they’re going to go down a dark hole, except she sees what a committed father Daemon becomes. this fear mutates into a fear of losing them to the Targaryen side, especially when their eggs hatch. she’s not even really their mom (👀 or is she?) (depends the AU ig) so she feels them slipping, or at least Jon

once the twins are calmed about how she’s alive and happy to have her back, the dynamic of Jon alienating himself from her, the twins not-so- subconsciously preferring a specific parent because of different issues

Rhea’s treatment of Raymar reminding Jon of Catlyn

Daemon’s resemblance to Aerys for Rhaegar

Laenor shows up mid-way with Seasmoke on their route to KL and is suddenly brought before the most tense family he’s ever laid eyes on— and he lives in the Red Keep

Alicent thinking she could find common ground or even an ally or a friend in Rhea, both coming from bad forced marriages with children they just want to protect, only to be thoroughly disappointed when Rhea (surprising even herself) defends Daemon after Alicent insults him.

Rhea is with Daemon when he meets that cat and she takes the cat with her.

I think what would be very fascinating to me about this AU setup is the Jon+Rhea vs Rhaegar+Rhea dynamic. Rhaegar was able to idealize his relationship with Rhea to a degree because her last visit(s) were the ones where she finally let herself warm to Raymar. And then she died, which put her on a somewhat untouchable level for Rhaegar, especially since his feelings about Rhaella sort of got jumbled up in that too.

Here, though, she's alive and he's had more time to integrate those memories of Raymar's. How does he reconcile that? Does he distance himself over time? And you have sort of the reverse arc with Jon, where yes, there are strong Cat vibes to those memories of her treatment of Raymar, but she was quite loving toward / fond of him when they were growing up. So it gets similarly complicated for Jon because Jon Redfort has those position interactions with Rhea while Jon's wrestling with the unfairness of her treatment of Raymar originally.

And now that she's more open with both of them, does that change anything? Does that absolve the hurt before?

(Daemon, btw, FUMES whenever a hint of that damage shows. He can't even feel vindicated about their conflicted feelings toward Rhea because he doesn't want them to be sad/upset.)

LMAO at your Laenor bullet point because it's so painfully accurate. 😂

I think they can eventually get to a healthier place/dynamic, with time and love and remorse from Rhea, but it'll be a while. Things like Rhea defending Daemon will help, of course!

[theclosetcreature]

Chapter 2 - A Strange Day

You wake up to a drop of water landing on your face. Opening your eyes, you see it came from a stalactite. "Wah... Why am I..." The memories of last night flood into your mind and you quickly sit up. You scan your surroundings to confirm if you dreamed the whole thing or not. You are in the same place you fell asleep in, the only thing missing is Mr. Puzzles. Did he leave or did you make him up? As you ponder this your thoughts are interrupted by a delicious smell. Your stomach growls, you did not eat anything yesterday and you are starting to feel the side effects of that.

Following the smell, you make your way to the room with the campfire and see some pork chops being cooked on it. But more importantly you see Mr. Puzzles who is cooking said pork chops. He happily waves at you and motions to you to come sit down. You do just that, now closer to the food your mouth begins to water.

Once the pork chops are done cooking Puzzles hands them all to you. "Aren't you also hungry?" You ask him forgetting for a moment that there is likely no possible way for him to eat, considering he has a TV for a head.

He shakes his head and says something on the lines of "I'm fine." You still do not fully understand what he is saying but it reminds you of an idea you had yesterday. "So I was wondering... Would you like to come over to my house? I have a book and quill you could use so that you don't have to struggle talking to me."

He nods while trying (but failing) to hide his excitement. "Alrighty then, the rain should hopefully be gone so we should start making are way there-" Wait where is Brian.

"Hey Puzzles, do you know where Brian went?" Mr. Puzzles eyes widen as he realizes he completely forget about your sheep. Oh no oh no oh no, you can not loose him again. What if you can not find him this time or what if you do find him but he is-

Puzzles says your name which causes you to look up at him. He has his claw stretched out to you. Looks like he wants you to take it. You don't know why but you trust him so you take his hand. His claw is cold to the touch. Once you take his hand you realized you are no longer in the cave.

You are now on top of a very tall tree. "WHAT THE-" You were so surprised by this that you stumbled backwards and almost fell off the tree, thankfully Puzzles was there.

Catching you quickly before you fall, he puts one claw on your back and the other one grabs your wrist. You both stayed like that for a few seconds before he quickly places you back on the tree and turns away from you. You could have sworn you saw a purple line appear across his screen before he turned away. Your face feels hot for some reason but let's not think about that right now.

"So uh, why did you bring me here?" You ask him. He turns back to you and points down to the ground. You take a look and see little hoof prints. Your so happy you can not even talk, you just make a happy squeak and hug Mr. Puzzles. He is incredibly cold but you do not mind since your body has always ran pretty warm. It takes a few seconds but Puzzles does return the hug, a bit awkwardly though.

Realizing what you did you quickly let go and stop the hug. "Sorry I suddenly hugged you, I was just uh- Thank you for your help." You smile at him and he smiles back. He says "your welcome." You think.

"Well we should probably get off of this tree and follow those prints." You tell him. Puzzles holds out his hand, which you take again and- POOF! Your both back on the ground. This time you don't fall but your stomach feels a bit queasy. You wave it off and the both of you take off after Brian.

It started as you both running together but it quickly turned into a race. Puzzles was a whole lot faster do to him having longer legs than you. You tried to at least keep up with him but he soon disappeared behind all the trees. You kept following the prints until you saw Mr. Puzzles again, he looked confused.

As you got closer you saw why, the prints just... Ended. No Brian in sight. Did something kill? No you do not think so. The ground is still wet from the rain last night so there would have been tracks from another animal. So why did they stop here. Your suddenly hit with a wave of dread. You want to leave, you do not feel safe anymore. Something is wrong.

"Hey, Puzzles can we leave. I don't want to be here anymore..." You did not notice this but you were gripping the sides of your shirt. But Puzzles noticed.

Mr. Puzzles led the way through the forest, he knew it a lot better than you did. He was pretty close to you while you walked together, as if silently telling you he was going to be protecting you from any dangers that may appear. It made you feel a bit better. But you were still feeling uneasy so you asked him a question. "Would it be ok if I could hold your claw until we get out of here?"

He looks down at you and nods his head. You take his claw, your hand feels small compared to his. Now feeling slightly safer, you both continue walking until you see the edge of the woods. Finally, you thought you would be in there forever. Walking out of the woods and taking a look around you see your house in the distance. You have never felt this happy to see your house before. Still holding Mr. Puzzles claw you start sprinting towards your house.

Puzzles is not ready for that and almost falls when you start sprinting but he recovers quickly. Now the both of you are sprinting towards your house but the closer you get to it the stronger your feeling of unease gets. Something happened while you were gone. You can feel it.

You are now standing in front of the door to your house. You don't want to open it. You know if you open it you will see something you won't like. Your hand is now on the door knob. Your shaking. Something cold touches your shoulder causing you to jump.

Puzzles quickly pulls his hand away and apologizes. You tell him. "Oh, it's ok. I was just lost in thought. I'll open the door now." Mustering up enough courage to open the door. You turn the door knob and brace for the worst. You feel a chill run down your spine as you look through that doorway.

(HAHAHA you want to know what happens next? Well too bad cuz I'm on my villain arc 😈 but actually I just want to say that reading the replies I got on my first chapter made me so happy :] I'm so glad people are enjoying this.)

[viaviavie]

Alright. I feel bad for dropping that angst in you inbox. Hope this makes up for it somewhat.

The Prefect and Ace have been acting weird lately. They‘ve been lost in thought and constantly fighting their own attention span. During lunch for example, Yuu didn’t notice Grim chomping down a majority of their food, and Ace didn’t even try to pick a fight with a classmates that bumped into their table.

It comes to the point where the other freshman pick up on their weird behavior and formulate a plan to get the two out of their slump.

Only once the Prefect and Ace split off from the group, to do who knows what, (Grim is of the convinced that they are Dating. The others have their doubts. („Truly? I can understand from where you come from but the probability of Ace confessing his feelings is nigh impossible“ „He‘d rather be collared than to admit he cares.“ „But why else would they constantly sneak off just the two of them?“)), does the rest start their master plan.

Grim and Deuce are tasked with keeping watch of the lovebirds Duo. They‘re supposed to alert the others if it looks like they are returning to Ramshackle and if possible get them others more time to prepare.

Jack was responsible for getting snacks and drinks organized. (Epel contributed some of his familys apple juice)

Ortho was tasked with organizing entertainment. With his vast knowledge of movies, games and stories this assignment was a no brainer.

Epel and Sebek took it upon themselves to rearrange the entire lobby of Ramshackle so that all of them could comfortably hang out.

By the time Ace, Deuce, Grim and Yuu returned to Ramshackle they were met with a Lobby that looked nothing like it did that same morning.

All of the furniture was moved to the walls to create space in the center of the room where a bunch of mattresses were laid out on the floor. A bit to the side you could see Ortho setting up a projector to watch movie with or Sebek throwing a whole armload of pillows and Duvets from the different dorms onto the mattress floor.

„What’s all of this for?“ asked the prefect seemingly only now regaining conscious thought. „What does it look like? It’s a surprise party. I couldn’t possibly let my Henchman and their friend be mopey all the time. That wouldn’t reflect well on my ability as a great mage.“

„That’s all well and good but curfew is soon and I at least don’t have permission from mister ‘be in bed on time or paint the roses‘ so all of this was kind of useless.“ Ace adds, very useful as per usual.

„You may not have gotten permission yourself, but we got that covered have some faith. Some more easily than others. Leopna just waved Jack off and told him to not get himself killed, Idia simply wished Ortho luck and Lillia basically threw Sebek at us once he got wind of what we were planning.“ Epel explained.

Before Ace or Yuu were able to fully process what was going on, Deuce threw his arms over their shoulders and dragged them onto the mattress fort.

As the rest settled around them and started bickering about what kind of movie they were going to watch, did the Duo start to loosen up a little. Suddenly many of their worries about how they were going to deal with the problems the future would bring were melting away, surrounded by the warmth of their friends.

in reference to this fic

WE LOVE FIRST YEAR BONDING IN THIS HOUSEHOLD !!!

I swear, Grim knows that you held some form of affection for Ace. Ever since Grim noticed that you tend to stare at Ace a little bit longer than anyone else, take care of him more, got that little longing look in your eyes— It's so damn obvious you see Ace as something more than a friend, but Grim doesn't think you will ever confess.

Ace, on the other hand, Grim gets super super annoyed with how protective Ace gets. Wherever Prefect goes, Ace seems to follow ever since the end of Book 4. And since when does Ace share a bed with Prefect?! Grim has complained about this to Deuce so many times, but the poor boy is just as oblivious and thinks its all platonic.

Imagine that this little surprise happens before Book 7, maybe? Ace and Prefect are dreading what's to come, and maybe Prefect is lacking some confidence in surviving this loop. Prefect must've died in the same spot during the overblot, and can't figure out the answer to a dream. Ace's probably losing his mind because he knows he can't do a thing to help Prefect during the overblot.

Maybe when Book 7 is resolved, I may consider the idea of the duo telling the truth for the final loop. Perhaps this get-together happens, but this time, Ace and the Prefect got their heads together and decided that maybe this time, nothing is going to go wrong. They need everyone's help, and perhaps that was the answer this entire time (the power of friendship!)

Sebek is initially taken aback and distraught by the idea of Malleus overblotting, but when he takes the time to reflect on how genuinely tired the Prefect looks, he steels himself to prepare for the worst. When it slips that the Prefect has been dying constantly in the dream realm, however, Sebek does feel a lot of responsibility to keep Prefect safe this time.

Epel considers telling Vil, but he doesn't for your sake. You do not know how much the timeline will change if anyone else finds out about this, and Epel doesn't want to betray that trust. He worries a lot for you though, especially after everything you did to help him in Book 5.

Ortho— I lowkey want to integrate him into the time loop theory. I wanna say that Ortho has felt some time-distortion every reset. He senses that something's wrong every time, but can never pinpoint why. Once the truth comes out, everything finally makes sense. He would tell the duo to place some trust in him to ensure that this loop will lead to a good ending.

Goodness, Deuce is the most relieved. He finally gets some answers and it does make him tear up, thinking about how much pain they both went through, but also that he is trusted enough to cooperate with the plan. He doesn't hold anything against them for keeping it to themselves, and is just there to remind them that they can depend on him.

But ugh, imagine Ace and the Prefect so afraid yet so hopeful for what was to come this time. Perhaps this is the first timeline they have all actively worked together for a good ending. Even if it doesn't turn out correct, at least one of them can carry on with the memory knowing that the first years will always have their back.

[spiderb00]

Teach me - Megan Skiendiel

Megan Skiendiel X Reader  Synopsis - You've always liked football, so your girlfriend surprises you with the Rams game.  Genre – Fluff  a/n - I don't know MUCH about football, but I think my basic knowledge saved me here. Enjoy. <3  (request)

Sitting and watching the Rams game was relaxing, after days of work you just wanted to sit back and relax. Usually, this was one of the times when Megan wasn't with you, most of the time she would be out with the Kats, or doing something else while you were watching the game.

Today, however, the girl had sat next to you, and asked you to explain in detail how a game worked. You were confused, Megan had never had any interest in games or anything involving sports. But of course you explained everything she wanted to know, after all, all this just gave you more time with your girlfriend.

"So they basically kill each other?" Megan said, looking at the guy lying on the ground.

"They don't kill each other, they just have to stop the other team from scoring points." You said, eyes glued to the television.

"I never asked why you like these games so much..." Megan said, leaning on the couch and laying snuggled against your chest.

"I used to watch a lot when I was little. My family always liked sports, so we always got together to watch the games" You said, putting your left arm around your girlfriend, stroking her back, making the whole environment feel cozy and warm.

"Oh, what is he doing now?" Megan said, pointing to the screen, where the player was positioning himself.

"Ah, he's Kicker, he is responsible for field goals, extra points and kickoffs. He's very important to the team." You said, calmly explaining to the girl who was clearly confused by all the terms.

"Look, not that I'm complaining, but why did you take any interest in all this? You've never seemed this interested before." You said, giggling.

"Well, me and the girls were kind of invited to watch the Rams game, so I kind of wanted to understand at least a little bit..." The red-haired girl said with an embarrassed smile.

"Oh my god, Meg, this is amazing, baby. You're going to love it, it's really cool to be in a stadium, the energy kind of gets to you." You say, happy for your girlfriend.

"Well then I think you'll also like to know that I can bring a date, and I want to bring you." Megan says with a smile on her face. Your face lit up, Megan knew how much this meant to you, and she was happy she could make you feel special.

"No way, babe! Oh my god I love you so, so, so much." You said, as you spread kisses all over the girl's face.

Megan just laughed, the tickling that the kisses made on her face made her heart warm. After exchanging kisses, Megan looked at you smiling.

"Do you know who else will be there?" Megan asked, a teasing smile on her face.

"Sophia's girlfriend?" You asked, your excitement growing even more as you waited for the answer.

"Sophia's girlfriend." Megan stated with a smile on her face, it was really cool to her that you all were friends.

Even though Sophia's girlfriend is a little older than you (you're 19 and she's 21), you've always gotten along really well.

Oh my god, I love that girl, I HAVE TO CALL HER!!!" You said, forgetting about the game temporarily and going to grab your phone to call your friend.

In the end it seems that Manon was right.

The energy in the stadium was uplifting, having Megan by your side made everything better, and being in the presence of the girls definitely made you feel like the little girl watching the game with her family.

Everything seemed perfect, and when the game started, you made sure to watch everything alongside your girlfriend, commenting on everything and answering every question that crossed her mind.

"Thank you for bringing me here." You say into the shorter girl's ear.

Megan, who was clinging to your bicep, lifted her head from your shoulder to look into your eyes.

"You deserve, baby. I love you." The red-haired girl said, standing on her tiptoes and reaching his lips.

bending over a little to get more comfortable, you gave the younger girl another kiss on the lips, that moment was perfect, and every day you knew you fell even more in love with the girl.

I think you've noticed that I love making references to "Fam out", but you can't blame me, I'm kind of obsessed with them

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Plot twists that could be funny.

Charlie wants everyone to bond, but Angel gets to pick the activity so he tries taking them all to a little old fashioned place he knows that's sorta from around when he died.

And it's a strip joint, with gin and jazz. Charlie thinks it's... interesting, but definitely not great. Watching Alastor like he might explode at the sudden influx of naked people on stage.

Only to be completely thrown off guard as Mimzy comes hurtling out from the manager's office to greet them, and Alastor speaks to a number of the dancers by name. Unbothered by the sudden number of bodies pressing close, implying this is definitely Not the first time he's been here.

Husk doesn't seem surprised, at least, and ends up chatting to someone currently on the pole to their immediate left. Nothing sensual, he seems to be asking about how their latest attempt at gardening with hellplants was turning out. And the utterly inverted sequined sinner there is answering excitedly, moving through the routine while chatting about fire proof gloves and fertiliser types.

Niffty is briefly lost but then located rapidly spinning around a pole and giggling madly. She looks like a one person tornado, more blur than person, as several of the dancers look on in a fondly exasperated way.

Mimzy is initially mad at them all, primarily Alastor, but brushes it off with a general "Oh I just can't stay mad at you, doll... come get a drink!" and in a blink everyone is seated across several squished together plush couches in one of the quieter corners.

Dancers are everywhere, all varieties, costumes well made and maintained from a very 1920s to 1950s style. Angel can't help but ask about them, he knows Val would never let him in something so old fashioned but... maybe just for him, at the hotel, you know?

Mimzy nudges Alastor, and the Radio Demon rolls his eyes in a friendly yet put upon manner, before twirling a finger. Instantly switching Angel's attire out for something akin to that of the other ladies, gentlemen and assorted sinners present with no particular inclination in either direction.

"I don't believe this falls under the purview of the facilities manager but... as needs must. Do let me know if it pinches, Rosie is far superior at clothing magicks, she can work out sizing merely by eyeballing you across a crowded room. Remarkable."

Mimzy crosses her arms, scowling. "Hey, we don't mention her here... you know that."

"Apologies, I thought you were over that little spat."

"She started it, she can apologise for it."

"I do believe you were the one that set her Emporium on fire first, Mim, which would warrant a smidge of grovelling on your part, no?"

"Hey, whose side are you on anyway? She's so fuckin' uptight and..."

Radio dials flash in a gentle warning. "Magnolia, I daresay you may have had enough to drink, if you are falling into such melancholy thoughts... perhaps you should take dear Charlotte to the dancefloor and show her how to move, hmmm?"

"Yeah, yeah... you'd think alla that work together when we was alive would count for something, but I know you like her better..." she mumbles, clearly trying to sway the man as she storms off. "Princess, you know anything about the Lindey Hop? Cause you're about to!"

The princess shoots a mildly terrified smile at Vaggie before she was dragged away to a side area near the bar where patrons were trying to move to the fast-paced music. Dancers spun intermittently on small stages and well-anchored table tops about the bar area, moving in well choreographed actions to the same music that had sinners shaking the floorboards.

It was a very strange place to be, but the alcohol kept flowing, so who was to naysay it?

Angel, running fingers over the intricate beading of his attire, drops boldly into Alastor's lap and puts a pair of hands around the Overlord's neck. He feels the frission of static zip up his fur, and briefly rethinks if this was wise... but the other relaxes.

"Angel, I hadn't assumed you so foolish as to land in the literal lap of a second overlord..." Alastor teases, and Husk lets out a soft breath of relief nearby. There's at least two of Mimzy's crew brushing his wings out right now as they chatted, drinks passed around as conversation rose and fell between songs.

"Hey, I just wanna say thanks for the outfit, it's fuckin' amazing! Always wanted something like this, back when I was alive but... my dad woulda probably killed me if I'd nabbed one. Did NOT like the whole queer thing, I tell ya." Angel beamed, a second pair of hands stroking the bodice. "You said Rosie does this sorta thing to? The Canibal Overlord? I thought her crew were all ankle-length dresses and like..." He gestures to all of Alastor.

"Ah, a common misconception... dear Rosie is an amazing seamstress, as are the cannibals and bettes under her tutelage. Why, I believe that before Miss Velvette was around, a number of items for your... employer... were created by Cannibal Town. I understand, from what you have shown in your movies, that the quality has taken quite the turn for the worse in recent times."

Angel snorts, covering his face with one set of hands and wrapping the others around his torso as he laughed. "Only... only you would watch one'a my films and notice the shitty quality of the fabric an' props, Al... fuck, you better nevah change, cause you're a riot when you wanna be."

"Indeed. Husker, my good man, would you please do a little twirl for your beau?"

"Do a what for my what now?" the bemused and now wary cat replied. "Aw, come on..."

With a snap, the cat was now in an equally ornate outfit to rival Angel's, and Husker's shoulder sagged. He did look marvellous, and the yellow suited him, but the reluctance at the sudden costume change was evident in his half-shuffle-turn, ending the move with a sarcastic Ta-Da with angry spirit fingers.

Angel nearly fell off Alastor's lap in surprise. Oh, he was going to have to get the kitty to wear that again, later, in their room... sucks that he didn't have anything to offer the deer back for this little gift. Well, nothing that he knew Al would want... unless the guy wanted something smuggled up from Lust Ring through some back alley connections. No judgement. Angel had the hook up for primo toys...

Theatrically, he leaned over toward the nearest ear and said, "Best gift. Ever. Can I offer to suck ya-..." and bursts into laughter as he is immediately moved to a nearby chair by a hastily conjured tentacle. "I mean, I can work with tentacles too, y'know..."

"Husker, do deal with your man, he seems to have lost his sense of self preservation. " Alastor grins, a genuine thing that seemed to reach around the edges of the ever-present smile. He flicks his gaze to an overwhelmed looking Vaggie, who was awkwardly trying to converse with several fast talking dancers around her. Eye also trailing after a flustered looking Charlie who was being absolutely hurled about the dance floor by Mimzy.

Somehow, Niffty seemed to be in the mix, and it wasn't clear how that even worked but her added weight helped counterbalance the enthusiasm of Mimzy's tosses and twirls.

Vaggie caught him looking and her gaze hardened. "What are you looking at? Don't do anything creepy, because I will stab you if you try."

"Oh relax, Vagathina-May Junebug the fourth. I was merely taking... measurements."

"Taking-...? Wait, what did you call me?"

"Well Vaggellina von Taxpayer, I noted you seemed a little tense. There is no one here who is an actual threat to you or your darling Charlotte, many here who would indeed 'throw hands' as they say to protect her. You can... how did angel put it the other day? 'Unclench before you strain something'." Alastor adds, twilring his finger.

Vaggie chokes off a noise of worried anger as she suddenly finds herself wearing something rivalling that of the others in the establishment, of a pale pink that matched her eye. It was lovely, but she felt so... exposed.

"Why did you-...?"

"Ah, ah, ah!" He waggled a finger at her, and the grin turned mischevious. "Just wait for it..."

A soft gasp from behind made Vaggie whirl to find a flustered Charlie standing there, drinking in the sight with obvious wonderment in those lovely eyes. Vaggie couldn't help the way her heart pounded at the adoration there, but let her hair fall over her shoulders to cover up.

"Oh no, are you cold? Here, take my jacket!" Charlie rushes forwards, and wouldn't you know it, the jacket fits perfectly with the outfit, as if someone made it as part of a set. She briefly wants to thank and throttle the smug bastard in their perispheral.

Niffty was flung overhead and caught lazily in a tendril, dropped back to the floor to scurry back to Mimzy, who delighted in hurtling the tiny maid in all directions as they danced raucously.

Angel had succeeded in getting Husk to laugh and at least partially dance along with him. Charlie was looking at Vaggie, and then turning pleading eyes on the Radio Demon... who roleld his own, and provided a red outfit for her. Not quite the business suits she favoured, but definitely lovely on her.

Charlie would have taken the world by storm if she'd been a model during the flapper era, she was made for the look. Lucifer probably was too, more's the pity... angels had a way of making anything look majestic on them. Speaking of, it was a surprise his majesty hadn't popped in to bother them all with a new duck, today.

Charlie had tried to have him come along to bond with the group, but he had 'paperwork' to deal with apparently. Alastor had snarked that patenting a new design for a toy no one would be able to safely give to a child, hardly qualified... but the King had thrown hellfire at his head in retaliation as he dissolved into shadow. So the pair were 0:0 in terms of their ongoing dad-off.

"Vaggie you look so cute! I wanna dance with you, you'll never believe the moves I just learned!"

"Okay, okay, I guess we can try. Just don't fling me about too much, I just got my wings back and it's taking time to rebalance when I do weird athletic things."

Angel's incoming innuendo is forestalled by Husk putting a paw over the man's mouth. "No."

The eyebrows waggle all the same, suggesting what the mouth could not. Several of the dancers laughed, groups moving in and out of the area as their routines cued up or ended.

They were delighted to show off moves, talk about gossip, or generally just interact with people who weren't interested in getting handsy. Angel was delighted to chat with other people in the bizz, and subtly ask about how it paid... what Mimzy was like as a boss, and share gossip about the whole loan shark fiasco.

Husker still looked like someone had pissed in his drink anytime the vivacious little flirt Mimzy was within line of sight. Too many run ins with her nonsense had given him a natural inclination to dislike her.

Still, the way she treated her people was good... even if she did see Al and previously even Rosie before their falling out, as a Get out of Jail card more than a person. He always wondered what she'd been like alive... but from the few things he'd gotten out of Al about it, she was pretty much the same reckless floozy then too.

Across the room, in one of the dim areas, someone was getting a tad aggressive. There was always one fucker who just couldn't understand the whole 'look with your eyes, not with your hands' thing everyone else had mastered as itty little kids.

Mimzy pulled an obscenely long-barrelled revolver from her cleavage, leaving more than a few wondering how that had fit. "Alright, I've gotta go eject someone before he hurts... is that Sapphire? Looks like 'em." She pauses, blinking coquettishly, "Unless you wouldn't mind putting the fear'a You into a rude customer?"

"Only for the sake of dear Sapphire's continued wellbeing, I suppose..." Alastor sighs dramatically, snapping his fingers as he dissolved into shadow.

Whatever Angel had been expecting, and let's be real he was hoping for big spooky Al to eat the guy the way Angel sometimes dreamed of the resident overlord disposing of Valentino for him... it didn't pan out. The porn star's jaw nearly hits the floor when Alastor rematerialises sitting the in the problem customer's lap, startling the weird dinosaur looking Sinner enough to make him let go of the dancer he'd been harrassing.

"What the-...?"

"Well now, my good man, I do believe this is the part where we keep our hands to ourselves or someone might eat them, yes indeedy!"

"The fuck are you to come between me and that whore? I paid for 'em, they're gonna do what I want-..." the bravado died down as static filled the air, that grin went wider and more menacing as the shadows darkened. "...wait fuck, please... I didn't mean-... didn't know this was under your protection... please?!"

"Oh, far too late for that, you foolish little lizard. You may need to learn some manners the hard way, and-..." he pauses, "can you at least try not to find this threat to your life arousing? Someone might get the wrong idea and have to tear it off. Ah, there we good, go show."

Shadows darkened in that area, blocking off the view but not the screams... and then it was gone. Only the newer patrons appeared affected in any way, shaken and looking to be on their best behaviour all of a sudden.

The dancers and Mimzy kept moving as normal, a few comforting the shaken Sapphire, as Niffty swooped in to deal with the few blood splatters on the wall as Alastor materialised back by the booths.

"Thanks Al, let me get you a drink as thanks. That guy came in three times last week just to pester poor Sapph, and the week before that he'd lucked out with Neptune over there. Thought we'd run him off good last time, but he's either dumber or more resilient than we thought." Mimzy adds, flicking a hand at a nearby dancer to retrieve the drink.

"Of course, Magnolia... he could have used a bit of seasoning, but, perhaps his time reforming will give the fool a chance to work on his manners."

"Psst, remember ya gotta call me Mimzy down here... ain't gotta lotta sway when you sound too flowery."

"Oh, and I suppose the fact you and Rosie were a floral pair has nothing to do with it... Maggie?" he teases, and she baps him on the face in playful fury. Alastor laughs in response and she rolls her black eyes.

"Thanks for stopping him." Sapphire exhales, appearing boneless with relief. They clenched their fists as if wanting to shake hands or hug or soemthing, but couldn't quite get their limbs to work right.

"Think nothing of it, you know I do like to directly discourage bad behaviour at Mimzy's holdings. You deserve respect and dignity as well, never forget that."

Angel felt, somewhat, that last statement was aimed his way too as the dancers fawned over the Radio Demon. He did appear surprised by the response, but smoothed over the momentary microexpression with nonchalance.

Hah, I saw that, mister. Angel felt he'd never get a better chance to rattle the Overlord. "Hey Al, you uh... seem a little overdressed considering what you whipped up for the rest of the hotel crew. You gonna make it fair, or keep being all old timey on us?"

The radio dials he got back made the spider laugh rather than shake in fear. They snapped back to normal.

"True, in the spirit of equality... but only for a moment. Should certain people find out, we'd have a whole other problem on our hands." Alastor capitulates, his attire shifting to an entirely too-red yet somehow fitting outfit. The fact that most of the dancers seemed nonplussed by it suggested that perhaps this was not the first time he'd been seen in something outrageous around them.

Angel had always wondered about that 'turns into a kitten' statement Mimzy made first time they met her. What that could even look like with a guy so uptight as Alastor, and if that was code for 'got roaring / shitfaced / zozzled drunk beyond belief and did weird insane crap no one would believe if you told 'em'.

Starting to think that may be true.

Alastor gestured again and his normal attire returned. "Satisfied?"

"Oooh, deer daddy, not as satisfied as I could make yo-..." Angel lost the sultry edge as a wet napkin plopped him in the face.

"Enough of that, thank you."

Vaggie seemed like she was considering gouging out her own eye, a thousand yard stare there. Charlie was patting her shoulder and marvelling at the lovely wall tiles. Probably felt like her weird uncle just turned up in something way too revealing to the family potluck. But Angel could store that image away for future use.

"Well, Mimzy my dear we have had a splendid evening but I do believe we need to get certain sinners back to bed because I believe at least one person has an early meeting to attend and another has to be up before lunch for their shift." Alastor said, smoothly, subtly gathering up Hazbin staff and guests alike.

Vaggie was frowning, looking right at Alastor's chest.

Angel understood, he was pretty fucking impressed that the Radio Demon could hide such a ridiculous amount of fluff under those weird bondage suspender things a'his without giving the game away. Gave him a pinch of envy to think about comparing them.

Still, looked soft... wonder what he'd have to barter to test it out, for comparison reasons. He knew Husk's fur was almost as soft as Angel's own, especially the chest fluff, but what about Al?

"Alastor, I need to talk to you about-..." Vaggie started, voice cutting off as the lights sparked violently and the live band petered out.

Only then did he hear Husk swear, as the blinking red dot on a security camera started to go insane, the tech seizing as the Television Demon hurtled through it to rematerialise across from them.

"ALASTOR!" he thundered, seam venting from the sides of his head as the fans whirred.

"Ah... fuck." Looking rather betrayed, Alastor glared at Mimzy. "You didn't mention the cameras, dear... would have been ideal to know when we arrived."

She shrugged sheepishly. "I forgot... a gal's sometimes four sheets to the wind."

"The saying is Three Sheets to the Wind, but I did not you took a whole bottle of gin for yourself, so I understand the mathematics involved."

"Aw fuck off, Al... you want me to send him packing? I've had enough'a him pestering you."

"It's fine, I can-..."

"I will always find you, Alastor... you can't hide from me!" Vox laughs, striding forwards like a shark through a school of fish as patrons fled. "Liked the little number from before, maybe we can negotiate that making a comeback, hmm? Time to stop this bullshit and join m-... the Vees."

He pauses in shock as a glass smashes across his face, alcohol dripping down his fancy suit. Someone's sharp stripper heel draws blood from his shoulder as they swing it violently in his direction.

"Gettouta here!" shouts a dancer, picking up a drink coaster and throwing it next, as the echidna-like dancer next to her smashes a bottle against the bar for an impromptu weapon. A third and fourth are picking up chairs from nearby, fur up in a threat display.

Others seem to have attended the Mimzy school of well-concealed weaponry, as they are pulling them from locations in skintight attire where it passed beyond improbable and landed squarely in physically impossible territory. One should not be able to manifest a bazooka like that...

Several of the others were simply blocking the way, and jeering the television.

"You're just a creep who don't understand the meaning of No, and we don't like your kind here."

"We told ya not to come here, before, Vox. Take your little eye trick home."

"Looks like there's a lotta us, and one of you, you sentient toaster. Wanna dance?"

"Fuck off you flat faced motherfucker!"

"Well, I do love the enthusiasm, but I can certainly deal with him on my own." Alastor added, ears twitching in unmitigated delight as Sapphire and someone he knew to be called Petrichor (of all things) managed to get a feather boa about the television's throat and tried strangling him.

There were a lot of weapons aimed at Vox right now, he didn't dare try discharging volts at the employees. But his gaze landed on Alastor, eye spinning as he seethed with unbridled rage, the impotence in that moment conflicting with his obsessive desires.

"Call off your little sluts, Al, this is beneath you. hiding behind filth like this rather than fighting me of your own accord... and even then, why fight? You know full well we could be great together."

"For someone able to access apparently everything on your little electronic web, you certainly struggle with the concept of-..."

"He said no, ya ugly motherfucker, now back off or I blow your circuits across the city!" Mimzy cries, cutting off what was certainly building up to be a cutting remark from Alastor.

"Oho, but it's not a choice anymore is it, Al?" Vox grinned, and the Overlord has the distinct recollection of that drone at the battlesite. "We can protect you, Vel can erase all traces of that video from the internet... no one has to know about what happened to your staff. You just have to stop this whole... not interested nonsense and meet me halfway."

"Still no, but thanks for calling in. That's all the time we have for today, so do try your luck next century..."

"Fucking-... fight me properly you coward!" Vox yells, and lights pop. With a wave of his hand, Alastor replaces them, and Niffty has the shards swept away before any hit the floor.

Sapphire yanks back on the boa. "Hey, stop talkin' to him."

"Yeah, we said you need to leave and this time we're not taking no for an answer. How's that feel, you teletubby-looking bastard?!"

"This really is unnecessary, all..." Alastor tries to diffuse the situation before anyone got hurt. Also deeply puzzling what in the Seven Rings a teletubby was...

"Nah, we got this." Chirps an angelic looking thing barely taller than Niffty at his side, he recalls their name is Oregano... and never got around to asking why they went with that. They open their pretty pink lips to reveal rows upon rows of vicious teeth as they smile. "You protect us all'a the time, it's our turn now. We don't like what he tries, Mr Alastor... not then, not now."

Oregano launches at Vox and gets quite the death grip on one shoulder as the Overlord shrieks in disjointed static. It's like watching a chihauha latch onto a great white, and win.

"Fuck fuck fFFFFfuuu<<<cccKKK! Fi111ne33, but yo0000u'll bee3 sorry wh333-...n the video h111ts Hell... that H0te333l won't b3333 s4aaaf333 anymo00000re333..." Vox snarls, finally realising he was in a no win situation. He couldn't hypnotise this many sinners in all directions in person, and discharging at this distance would only incur Alastor's wrath. "N333xttt T1111mmmmmeee333..."

So saying, Vox hurled himself back into the nearest light fixture as the bulb popped. Niffty had it managed immediately.

Alastor rolled his eyes, waved at the disarray until it snapped back to order, and grinned at Mimzy. "Well, that was certainly dramatic... ah, he hasn't truly learned anything in all these decades. I shall relish finding a way to turn him into a fine dining experience... after I work out which parts are even still organic." He laughed.

Mimzy elbows him in the hip. "Hey, you be careful a'that one, he's like one of them poisonous blowfish things. You eat the wrong bit and it' kills you."

"Nevermind all that, is anyone actively injured? Dear Miss Vaggaline here is quite the field medic when needed. Congratulations on collectively repelling the repulsive overlord with nothing more than his least favourite thing... social disapproval."

Charlie is suddenly hugging him while trying not to make physical contact. A baffling situation. "Ohmygosh Al, are you okay? That was awful... why did he...? How did he even know...?"

Angel rubbed at his nape. "Yeah, sorry I talked you inta the outfit thing, Smiles... didn't know ya had a technostalker who might take it as an invitation."

"Oh do lighten up, team! I assure you that this is nothing in the grand scale of things between Vox and I, merely a delightful occurrence wherein I was not the one forced to tear him limb from limb. The lovely hosts of this fine establishment showed him what-for in grand fashion!"

"Yeah, but what he said was... kinda worrying. He acted like he wanted to own you, like... the way Val does ta me." Angel pressed.

Alastor paused, smile thinning. "Because he does. When Vox cannot have what he wants, he tries to take, to force and to persuade. Thankfully, his abilities and mine are too similar for his little hypnotic trick to work, so he is easily kept at bay. He will be back, but not for a while, so let us not ruin a good evening out with such a sour note. I understand that the band members are setting up again... who cares to dance?"

"I will. Show me that weird swing thing that Mimzy did with Charlie." Vaggie says, stepping up and surprising even herself. Alastor still takes her hand, leading her to the dancefloor as the instruments begin to play once more.

Several of the dancers had broken off into groups to laugh about their victory, and yet more gravitated to the dancefloor. Almost dancing too close, as if nervous to be far from him. It was clearly bothering the overlord, but he persisted... showing Vaggie a slowed version of the dance until her confidence began to rise.

"How do you get that kick move in there? I... I can't see it well with my eye and I don't want to fall over." Vaggie asks, and he demonstrates for her once more, as she copies. Elation flooding through her as she manages it properly. Her hand grips onto his, and Alastor looks to the ex-orcist in surprise, eyes darting over her as if assessing for ailment.

"I know you're hurt. I saw... something... when you switched outfits, and it looked angry. I also know you and Adam fought, but he came after Charlie afterwards. Is that what Vox has on you?"

He actually has to pause his movement or risk stumbling, wide-eyed at her audacity. She hoped Heaven could hear the clang of her big metallic bollocks as she buckled in to this course of action, deciding to push further.

"It doesn't matter if that's it... I know we don't really get along, not well at least. You're hiding something, and I don't trust that you can get around it to tell the truth of why you're at the hotel... but you fought for us, so I trust in your actions if not your words. However, you are part of the hotel Alastor, and that means we can protect you too. Whether you like it or not."

"There's no need, it's simply a passing issue that will resolve..."

"Not if what I think happened, happened." She retorts. "That stupid axe of his was formed from the Grace Heaven gave him, the stuff that makes Angels. It's like acid to sinner bodies, like concentrated angelic steel that is semi-alive. If you did get hit with it... there are ways to fix it. But they take time... time you might be unable to fully use your powers, and time where you would need to trust that others could protect you."

"As I said there's-..."

"No, I'm talking. It's me being calm and rationale, or Charlie sobbing all over you until you're a soggy mess. I think you'd prefer me, somehow." Vaggie preens, knowing she has him verbally cornered. "If, for example, Vox had a video of Adam winning against you and wounding you, and if he let it out to the masses... you would be safe at the hotel. Anyone coming to challenge you would meet with me, with Angel, with Husk and Charlie and possibly Niffty but I'm still not sure her motivations. Because, you fucking dumbass, you're a part of the hotel... and you fought for us, so we'll return the favour. Same as how these guys all decided to throw hands with an Overlord to protect your honour. Or whatever."

"...your support is... appreciated."

"So you'll let us help?" she queries, suspicious at the lack of fight.

"I dont believe there is much choice, based on the expressions of those around us enslaved to their little telecommunications devices."

Phones bleeped with incoming news as Vox went about his cruel revenge, joyfully broadcasting the footage of an Overlord taken down by the First Man. Leaving the handy little tidbit that Alastor was injured and unguarded right now.

"Well, fuck." Vaggie mutters. She drags the taller overlord across the floor to the other Hotel inhabitants. "Alright everyone, time to go home and lock the doors for a bit. Charlie, hun, can you call your dad?"

She feels Alastor stiffen and jerks her hand off his arm. "Hey, the King can be enough of a deterrant for most to reconsider blowing out the walls on us... and if soeone gets in, we handle them."

Alastor narrows his eyes but then snaps back to a patently fake smile. He whirls on Mimzy and kisses her hand, theatrically. "My dear, what an intriguing night you have provided us, and our sincerest apologies for the whole Vox intrustion. I trust that you and our dear dancer friends will not begrudge us attending in future... despite the chaos?"

"You can come anytime, Mr Alastor!" enthused one of the nearby dancers. "We feel safe when you're here to keep the patrons quiet!"

"But, my dear fellow... Iceberg, was it? I saw that all of you have things well in hand even without my presence, based on how easily you overpowered Vox."

"Yeah, but we like t'see ya around, sir!" agrees an amazonian looking sinner, Warratah he believes is her new moniker.

"Ain't nothing that self-important blowhard can say or do that would change our minds. Miss Mimzy and us, we like you... and your friends at the hotel. Come back whenever. I'm getting real good at using throwing knives, so I gotcha covered, huh?" winks Sapphire, waving at the Radio Demon.

"This is all kindsa touching, but we need to get out of here before Vox lets slip where we are in his tantrum and sinners destroy the joint to challenge Al." Husk interjects, Niffty under one arm and Angel snagged in his other paw.

"True. Well, adieu until next time, all. A pleasure, as always." Alastor smiles widely, wining at Mimzy who giggles in response. "Anyone who wants all of their bits and pieces to remain attached in transit should stand close, and remain still."

Charlie went preemptively green and clung to Vaggie. "Okay..." she shuts her eyes and tucked in small. Alastor couldn't help but grin at the reaction before his shades swept up and over them all.

The familiar void a form of safety, of self, and of transportation as needed pulled them towards the destination of the Hotel. Disgorging them all in a mess of shaky limbs as several members forgot how to stand.

Alasto himself felt a tad light headed, and surreptitiously leaned against a wall. Taking so many was a challenge at the best of times, and such a distance... but his chest burned with the strain of his overuse of abilities.

"Are you okay?" Charlie asked, and he cursed her perceptive nature.

"Ah, well, it takes more cognition when... I believe the term is drunk driving?" he jokes, deflecting.

"Nah, I've seen you down half the bar and still be sober enough to go on a hunt... this is something else." Husker, the traitor, added. "That video showed you copping a hell of a hit with that guitar axe overcompensation thing of Adam's... cant have healed fully, not yet."

"Husker... do stop talking before I command you to."

"Or what? You gonna teleport me to the other side of the City right now? Nah. I'll take my chances... now sit down on the couch before you fall down, and I'll get the doors locked."

"Oho, what's everyone doing back here so early? Was it to do with that funny video Clorox sent through the phones earlier about Bambi here losing to Adam?" Comes the unfortunate voice of the King, far too gleeful for anyone.

"Hey, ya Majesty, could you leave it fer now? We had a... well, it was great, except Vox turned up and freaked us all out... and it's been a weird night." Angel interjects, trying to avoid anything specific. "We need to lock the place up before people start trying to get Al's power for themselves."

"Why? Just let them have him, I'll take over as facilities manager, it's a win-win." Lucifer shrugs, and then shrinks at the furious gaze Charlie turns on him.

"Unlike you Dad, I don't turn my back on family when things get hard. Now either help me, help US including Alastor, or go back to your room and make... I don't know... a duck that knows karate that can patrol the grounds or something." She snarls, immediately pulling back at his hurt expression.

Alastor's headache was getting worse, and he startled to find Angel hovering nearby with a cloth of some kind in his vision.

"For ya nose, it's bleeding..." the spider prompts, and Alastor takes it. "You pushed too hard with that teleport thing, didn'tcha? We shoulda called a taxi or something... maybe even Cherri coulda gotten us in her van. Drives like no one else is on the same continent, but we woulda gotten home alive... in a manner of speaking."

"Hah, she is quite bloody-minded, that woman. Admirable." Alastor agreed, vaguely. One ear cocked against the sound of Charlie's words wearing down Lucifer's last resolve, as the King begs for her forgiveness and promises to help.

Golden light fills the area as wards go up around the hotel above and beyond those flagging under Alastor's diminished state.

"Hey, uh... I want you ta know that... what Vox said was fucked up. Not wanting any of the muss and fuss of my line of work... that's valid. Lotta people finding out they're like that these days, and they're allowed to be that way, on earth and even sometimes in hell, cause society lightened up a fraction. Not a lot, but... enough. It's normal enough... Vox's just one'a those powerful white guys from a time when the word No was foreign to 'em."

"Exceptionally true, my friend. And that confusion turns to anger, to a theatrical betrayal in his mind, and then to obsession. One day I will find the time to kill him... but he is not a priority for now." Alastor pauses, trying to think back past the pounding in his head. "And I do not endorse his statements around your profession, you and the lovely employees of Mimzy's bar are professionals in your own right, actors and artisans who provide entertainment in many forms. The only thing vile about it is the people pulling the strings... and I will kill that moth one day, he is more bothersome than I can ever recall him being."

Angel tried to hide the tears in his eyes at the idea of freedom. "Well, then I hope I get to see it, becuase I want to watch him choke on his last breath for all he did to me and the others. But we gotta get you well first, so you can eat the bastards... or, well, maybe not Val... he's got weird spit and blood and stuff make you mad horny and vague. I don't think you want that, or that Pentagram City is ready for a 40 foot tall Radio Demon tripping on an aphrodisiac..."

Alastor frowned at the mental image, feeling dizzy again as he shut his eyes for a moment. "No, that would do something for my reputation... but hardly something I would enjoy having spread about."

"You know what you COULD spread?" Angel waggled his eyebrows, and laughed as a pillow landed on his head from a few feet up. His expression falls serious again. "And uh, you know, if my... statements make you undomfortable... you let me know. I can stop, but ya might need like a squirt bottle or one of them shock collars for naughty dogs."

"Appreciated but not necessary, I enjoy a good deal of... word play... when it..." the sentence felt far away as Alastor's headache seemed to pulse with his heartbeat. His head bumped against Angel's shoulder as things started to feel quite distant.... and then blissfully quiet, like the comfort of his void.

"Smiles? Ah fuck... can I get some help here? He's bleeding and I think he passed out. We shoulda gotten the Short King to portal us back. Lotta excitement tonight. Too much for someone who was apparently hacked in half..." Angel rambled, running his hands through his hair as he balanced Alastor half on his lap with the others.Not daring to look at the crimson mess spreading over the crimson shirt.

"Oh he's being dramatic, the big bab-... oh, well, fuck. Okay, ducling and friends, let's sort this out first and then go deal with whoever is ramming the doors at this time of night." Lucifer says, storming over with golden light swirling over his hands ashe took charge. "See if you can get the idiot awake, I need to know what he did to try and heal it, so I don't cause further harm."

Angel taps the still eerily smiling face. "Hey, Smiles? Strawberry Pimp?" he ignores how that one makes Lucifer wheeze until there are tears in his eyes. "Can you snap out of it for a minute to answer something for me?"

"...mmmm? Angel...? What-..."

"Yeah, can you tell me if you tried anything with your voodoo powers to fix this or whatever?"

"Just... thread..."

Lucifer nods, "Okay, that's fine then. I can do something to dislodge some of the angelic grace in there, but to full y heal it, it will take time."

Distantly, Vaggie can be heard cursing at the hoarde of sinners at their doorstep, threatening eighteen generations and the current ones of each and every would-be overlord's family until they back off in fear.

Husk was holding a sobbing Niffty who was exhausted and worried. He was cajoling in a way that spoke of caring for younger persons before... it made Angel's heart hmm happily.

Lucifer was doing who the fuck knows what, but it involved blinding light in sharp bursts that made Alastor twtich under Angel's hands. The spider mindlessly babbled soothing shit that used to work on Molly and Arakniss when they were younger, when they were ill or hurt.

He was so lost in the moment, that the starlet almost missed it.

"...angel?"

"Huh? Oh, er, yeah Al? What's up?"

"...what..."

"King's fixing up your wound. That's the light show."

"No... what's-..."

Angel let the other blink slowly, and assumed the other had fallen back to sleep. He startled when Al spoke again.

"...what's... a... teletubby?"

Angel burst into hysterical laughter until tears ran from his eyes, and Lucifer leaned over to press a soothing touch of healing through the spider as well to help him settle.

"...never change, Al. Ya fuckin' hilarious."

"Hmmm..." Alastor agreed, and fell still again.

Outside someone was screaming as Razzle roared in full demonic form. Vaggie had stopped 'negotiating' and started impaling.

"We gotta good crew here, Smiles... you just rest, we got your back. Even the Short King... whether he likes it or not."

If it felt like Alastor relaxed just fraction more, well... Angel wasn't no snitch. And he had always been loyal to family.

[hppymnday]

I couldn’t sleep so I was scrolling around and found this…

and wrote this… (very rushed, once again not proofread, very messy blurb)

In the dead of night, when Gotham was the quietest it could be, and if he was lucky enough to slip into a nightmare-less sleep, his fantasies would take hold. Silly little moments his mind conjured, most if not all of them about you. Perusing a corner store for snacks with you, on the bus whispering to each other about something. He could never quite remember the entirety of the illusion when he awoke. Only a brief clip of it and the fading feeling of safety would stay with him.

Safety, the thought always made him scoff. There was no such thing as safe in Gotham, he knew that. The familiar sound of punches being thrown in a dark alley and gory news stories taught him better. An almost constant sense of discomfort had a funny way of crawling into his life.

Was it so wrong for these dreams to give him a brief moment of peace? A break from the endless sounds of the city and his own smothering thoughts. A gift he would’ve prayed for at an earlier point in his life. Why was it that after every time he opened his eyes in the morning and savored the remnants of you, he would feel guilty? Perverted almost, as if he’d been dreaming more.. vulgar senecios with you.

Yet these moments were perhaps even more unobtainable than those. They were sweet, sickly sweet, and offered a kinder version of his life he knew he didn’t deserve. Warm skin, gentle smiles, he wouldn’t flinch when you touched him in these dreams. He could hold your hand, you’d let him, slightly swinging them as you walk along. Or at least that’s what he thinks he’d do, his own imagination filling in the blanks of what he doesn’t remember.

He has a favorite. One where he stayed in bed for hours after waking up, desperately clawing at the sheets and his hair, trying to go back to that perfect mirage.

You two were in his apartment only cleaner, lighter in every sense of the words. There were no ledgers left on the floor or scratch of rats in the walls. And he felt as if he could finally breathe, there was no yelling, no one telling him what to do.

He was reading something, you were too. Sitting side by side, backs against the wall, legs touching under the covers. Something happens and the books disappear and the rest of the room dissolves into nothing as you settle your head in his lap. And he brushes the hair out of your face, you smile.

Then he wakes up.

Whenever he thinks about these fantasies during the day he gets nauseous. Heavy breathing accompanied by the repeated phrase of “I shouldn’t” makes him spiral.

“You should be ashamed,”

“Why? For wanting to feel safe?”

And because he knows that yes, he should be, he swallows and forgets about the weight of you resting on him.

[lemurianmaster]

Woke up at 4 this morning in a cold sweat thinking about the financial and social terrors of Christmas, so I decided to cheer myself up by thinking about the LaDS penises instead (as you do) and it kinda spiralled. Typed up on my phone, so I can't add any banners or fancy text (not that I know how to because I'm an old noob).

SUGGESTIVE LANGUAGE (so run away children) AND MENTIONS OF FEMALE MC

Zayne I think would be longer than the others, maybe an eye watering 7.5 inches, but his girth wouldn't be as impressive—you could get your hand and mouth around it no problem. He'd taste so sweet, though, from all the macarons and sugar he ingests and you'll have him check your blood sugar levels after you swallow him down. His length may cause you to wonder if a cervix could actually break, but he spends so much time working you up, taking at least an hour on foreplay and pulling numerous orgasms from you before intercourse, that you're already too far gone to care. And those pelvic floor exercises he encouraged you to do every day pay off as you choke the cum out of him. His favourite position would be with you straddling him as he sits on a chair or propped up in bed. 1, so it would be more comfortable for you and to take as much of his long cock as you're comfortable with, and 2, so he can feel all of your body, his mouth and tongue on the pulse point of your neck. With Zayne, his long, dexterous fingers are where the true magic lies.

Xavier would be on the smaller side, at an acceptable and comfortable 5.5 inches, but his girth would be what makes you see stars. Your thumb won't be able to meet your fingers when you wrap a hand around him. He wouldn't taste particularly sweet, more of a literal man gravy taste from all the hotpots he consumes. Think of the protein! Not that you get much of an opportunity to go down on him, because this man lives between your legs. Always has his hands on your thighs no matter what it is you're doing, be it watching a movie, snuggling in bed to go to sleep or hoisting your legs over his shoulders while he laps you up for hours. This man is like a scuba diver and will stay down there until he's taken you to the stratosphere at least 3 times. His favourite position is either lazily spooning you from behind, panting in your ear while he slowly grinds into you, or folding you into a mating press when he feels particularly feral so he can drive as deep into you as he can get and he NEEDS your thighs within touching or biting distance of his seductive face.

Rafayel would be the most "normal" out of the bunch. A manageable 6 inches and reasonable girth, though he's more tapered, making the base of his cock thicker than the tip. He has a very prominent ridge on the underside that adds friction to where you want it the most. Being a fish and a cannibal lol, he would taste a bit funky, so probably best to keep a mint tucked into the inside of your cheek when you go down on him. He's an experimenter; finding any and all ways to see what feels best for you, but will take his time with anything you both try. Loves to watch you come undone so expect his eyes on you at all times, but his favourite position is prone bone because that magical ridge of his hits your clit just right when he's taking you from behind and he swells with pride when he knows you're about to cum, so he doesn't mind not being able to see your face when you do.

Sylus the impaler. It would be like sliding down a tube of pringles. This man is a horse at a scary 9 inches and his girth makes you look like a little hamster with stuffed cheeks when you attempt to take him in your mouth. He loves the way your back teeth scrape against his cock when you do go down on him, but will always keep a presence of mind so he doesn't accidentally thrust into your throat and cause you discomfort. He would taste quite pleasant due to all the fine dining and healthy eating and if you swipe off all his precum on your fingers then suck them like a lollypop, he's fucking gone. He likes to lay back, his hands interlocked behind his head as he watches you slowly and steadily sink down into his monster of a cock. Your expressions morphing from "holy fuck," to "oh my gods, right there" are what slays him. He's used to people trying to take from him, but for you, he gives everything willingly without question as much as you want.

Okay, so I know nothing about Sylus, sorry!

[abarbaricyalp]

Chapter six is posted!!!

Thank y'all so much for your patience 🙏🙏🙏 I know I'm so slow 🐌 😫

“We need to talk,” Bucky said gruffly. He hadn’t meant to slam Sam’s locker shut. His dad had rewrapped his bandages the night before and they were still tight enough that he didn’t have all of his fine motor skills on deck. He hadn’t been able to grab the narrow ledge of the door either.

Sam looked too tired to glare at him. His mouth opened to answer, but closed again when he looked over Bucky’s shoulder and his face went even more drawn. “Don’t start,” he warned.

“I didn’t–” Bucky began to object before Sam was stepping past him and squaring up to someone else. Bucky whirled around after him and came face to face with a thundercloud wearing Riley’s face.

“Don’t,” Sam said again, holding one hand up to Riley’s chest while keeping Bucky back with an elbow to his. “You were on his side seven hours ago.”

“I don’t care,” Riley growled. “I wasn’t looking at him seven hours ago.”

Sam pushed Riley back a step, but that didn’t make the heat rolling off of him any less potent. Bucky almost wanted to take a step back himself, but he’d never live it down. “Sam, we need to talk,” he repeated, reaching for Sam’s shoulder. As soon as he made contact, Riley was on him like Sam wasn’t even there.

Yeah, Bucky knew Riley was built like a goddamn barn, but he hadn’t expected him to be able to move so damn fast too. All of a sudden, the air in his lungs had been knocked out and his head was ricocheting off the top of the lockers. He tried to knock away Riley’s hands from the front of his shirt, but that was as futile as trying to get away from him.

“Riley, knock it off,” Sam snapped. He shoved himself between them both, managing to loosen one of Riley’s fists to do so. “Everyone’s staring at you.”

Bucky glanced around but Riley did not. All of his fury was directed right at Bucky. Which lie did he believe? That Bucky had tarnished his best friend’s image? That he’d been using Sam this whole time? Either one would be enough to deserve this if it was true. But it wasn’t true and Bucky didn’t deserve it, thank you very much.

“What the hell is your problem?” Riley snarled. If Sam wasn’t between them, Bucky was sure he would have flinched away. He’d been in plenty of fights in his life, courtesy of his best friend, but he’d never been on the other end of so much anger all focused on him. “You were supposed to protect him.”

“I did!” Bucky snapped back. “Of course I did!” I can’t believe you’d think I’d lie about him. Or ever try to hurt him. I love–”

Sam drew in a sharp breath next to him and pinned him back with wide eyes. Riley took Sam’s distraction as a chance to get his hands in Bucky’s shirt again.

“You’re a fucking liar! You always have been! I never understood what he saw in you.”

“Oh my God,” Sam snapped, smacking a hand down on both of their chests and bodily shoving them apart. “I can’t look at either of you right now. You’re both so stupid. I’m going home. Don’t bother me.”

“You still have math!” Bucky called after him.

Sam didn’t turn around. Riley had backed off a step at least. He was staring after Sam, looking just as confused as Bucky felt.

And, oh. Oh shit. Riley was in love with him too. That explained a lot actually. What the fuck.

“Hey,” Bucky said, like a fool offering an olive branch. “I don’t–”

Riley smacked a hand down against Sam’s locker and stalked away without even glancing at Bucky again.

Read the rest on AO3

Read from the beginning here