#between 'pissing each other off all the time' and 'finally being honest about the fact that they're stupidly obsessed with each other'

[marshmallowloves]

thinking about this asshole again

[cl-0v3r]

Okay this is gonna be super rushed and probably have alot of mistakes but I need this out of my system so it will most likely be like half a shitpost !!!

When i think of Jinx and Mel at a flat level, i assume that they are very different from eachother, there is no personal connection between the two at all, they don't even know eachother and they both have very different roles in the show, not to mention the difference in demeanor and character as well.

But Arcane, a show full of parallels, always knows how to connect each of its characters to one another somehow, I find it amazing that you can find so many similarities despite their vast differences even if it was the most subtle thing ever, its like the tiniest bits of detail SCREAM at you.

One of my favorite (and most obvious) things about Mel and Jinx is the fact that they speak of their past THROUGH THEIR ART, I don't think I really need to go ahead and dissect this to the last atom since it's already very clear what their drawings mean to them and to the story, but they prefer to cope with their trauma by painting/making things that remind them of the past or has a relation to it, there is ALWAYS a piece (or pieces) of art about something that continues to HAUNT them to this day, for Jinx its "doodles" of the hallucinations of Mylo, Claggor & Vi who are almost everywhere she is, as for Mel its the bloody necklace thats hung above her head and over her bed alongside the painting of the immortal bastion to remind her about "home".

Whats even crazier is the fact that their art is also tied to the people who cast them out from their family, Powder before this was always called a Jinx ESPECIALLY by Mylo and she was considered weak and unable to handle things like the others, leading her to change and become somebody new after they left, sound a little familiar? Because Mel was also considered weak, sentimental, too soft to be a Medarda E S P E C I A L L Y by Ambessa at a young age, and what happened after? Gone. Afterwards, they find themselves in a new place where people "look up to them" or they're seen as someone with higher importance.

And I've spoken a bit about the visual similarities in an earlier post, but we gotta appreciate their attitudes towards their "parental" figures, I don't know why but its funny to see how much sass they throw at them, its what inspired this post actually. Maybe its just the satisfaction of seeing my two least favorite characters get the same honest reaction I have by my favorite characters 😭

They're both tired of their shit and its the best thing to ever exist.

Let's not forget how they both got genuinely angry at them as well? Jinx snatching Silcos injection from his hands and being pissed at him for lying to her about everyone being dead, while Mel slapped the goblet out of Ambessas hand, upset that she played with Jayce unrightfully so.

The color and design differences is a beautiful parallel too, Jinx is often surrounded by cold or dark colors like Blue, Green, black with a hint of purple and pink and dressed like her personality, while Mel is more light & Warm-toned with yellow/gold, red, white and a wee bit of black which is all matching to her Elegance. This is just a general parallel between characters of Zaun and Piltover overall, but its always very appealing when you compare them together.

And finally, its them completely letting go of their past selves and starting out new literally by the last episode after struggling with who they are the whole time, Powder was officially gone by the end of the season, and Mel was no longer Medarda. Jinx is just Jinx, Mel is just Mel, and they are both going to do things their own way and that was shown with how Mel took off her ring and painted over the Immortal Bastion with gold , and how Jinx launched her rocket towards the council with her own art on it too.

Its funny to think that thats the only physical connection they could possibly have and that its related to their character arcs, its related to them making a new big decision, it has a strong relation to their art, and a strong relation to them saying goodbye to their family.

Hope this made sense !!!!!!!! I honestly just want them to like idk hug or something and go to loo loo land and paint together or whatever in a different universe and cope with their shared trauma together no fuss no muss. Fanfic writers where did you go y'all are missing out on this super mega awesome cool older&younger sister / mother-daughter duo.

[samisannn]

!THOUGHTS/RELATIONSHIPS!

Long post...

♡THE BROTHERS♡

Thoughts on each other:

Lucifer to Asami :

Despite being very expressive, she can be very vague, too. You can never tell if she's lying or not, sometimes.. She's like a Beel and Mammon combination. My money is gone in an instant..

Asami to Lucifer :

He's scarily freaky??? And to be honest, if I was him. I would've done what he did with Belphie. Because Belphie disagreed with the future demon king, Diavolo's plan. Who knows what would've happen to him. He's understandable and just protective of his brothers. He loves them.

Mammon to Asami :

Annoying! Ya' hear me!? She's so blunt and oblivious at the same time. How can a human be both? She's frustrating! She won't even tell me how she won that jockpot in the lottery. I swear she got like some lucky charm in her or sum'.

Asami to Mammon :

Bro's acting like I'm not spoiling him. He's my lucky charm. I guess what Satan and Asmo said was true when they mentioned the fact that a person will get money in their way if mamon liked them. Which is funny. He's so easily flustered and jealous that he can compete with Levi for the avatar of envy.. I mean, maybe that's some kind of part of him being the avatar of greed. He piss me off sometimes when he tries to trick me.

Levi to Asami :

She's really like me, and she understands me. Can you believe that normie watches anime like me, too? She's so passionate when it comes to an anime or whatever that she really likes, and I like how she understands me. She's my best friend! Though I don't think she feels the same way, cause I'm just a useless shut in otaku! Why would she like a worthless nobody like me?? [He rambled for a few hours...]

Asami to Levi :

I'm happy that I finally have someone to talk anime to after being alone for like about five years or so.. though, I don't like how he can make any situation or words or something be negative.. and personally, I don't like negativity.. but he's an exception, I guess... he's really cute when he rambles.

Satan to Asami :

She sends me cat videos and reads books with me..I'm surprised she still has a brain after hanging out a lot with Mammon.. lt's strange and also... amazing that her pranks on Lucifer always works??? Like how? lt's not like it's grand or anything, just simple and subtle prank, but it works... I gotta ask her for advice...

Asami to Satan :

I adore him! I'm a cat person too, and l really love sending cat vids to him. His books are totally amazing, though I don't like how messy his room is, Surprisingly, he knows where to find a specific book in that room, it's cool in a way. He says he hates Lucifer, but we all know he doesn't.

Asmo to Asami :

She's such a cutie, but l'm more cute, of course. she literally rocks any outfit. She could be a model with those thighs!!l She lets me do her nails, but she doesn't want any other color than what she has on, odd. She gets my vibes and cheers me on! She makes me feel tingly and excited whenever she compliments me! [We have to cut off what he said for the next two hours..]

Asami to Asmo :

The gorguesest man l've even met... Is that even a word? Anyway, but if you had to make me choose on who's the most hottest between him and any other people/ demons/angels?? I'd choose him. He's the embodiment of lust, so he gets freaky sometimes.. I sometimes match his freak. but not so often. Though I'm confused about how he can tell whenever I'm ovulating, he's like a period tracker... like what...? Anyway, If I had the money, I would plaster his beautiful face all over devildom.

Beel to Asami :

Her cooking is really good, she could be a chef with her skills. I love her cooking. She instantly gets how to make my favorites. Her sleepwear choices makes me flustered... I don't mind, though. She looks good... I really like her... [He continues to talk about different dishes that Asami cooks that he likes.]

Asami to Beel :

Food partner!l He eats anything I make it makes me happy. He really gives good restaurants and diner suggestions, if l get paid in my jobs, I will bring him food. I get the others something, too... Our first interaction was embarrassing because it was nighttime, and I was hungry. Thinking everyone was asleep, I headed to the kitchen with only an oversized jacket, and he was there. The clothes overed my whole body, but still. never again. He's adorable, though...

Belphie to Asami :

I can tell that she still hasn't forgiven me for what I did, and I don't blame her. But despite that, she lets me cuddle with her and watch the stars with her... Many can say that she's very expressive, but sometimes, you can't really tell what she's thinking. She always has this familiar look on her face.. regret? Loneliness?? Her eyes say different emotions, and I want to ask her, I really do. But I have a feeling she doesn't want to talk about it.

Asami to Belphie :

It's true that I still haven't forgiven him for what he did... I mean, he unalived me, who would forgive that in an instant..or at all?? Though, he is a lovely person, he's just blinded by his rage towards human after their incident... maybe I hate him a little because he reminds me so much of G-.... I love how fluffy his hair is, makes me want to shave him bald and make his hair my pillow.

[arliedraws]

CHAOS TIME. Sirius lives, it's post-war.....how do Sirry get together? 👀

Ooohhhhh. OKAY.

Scenario 1:

Harry breaks up with Ginny (maybe it’s a big thing, maybe they break off their engagement—maybe they grew apart or something, idk). Harry is devastated and Sirius offers him a place to stay at his house. Maybe they’ve never actually lived together so Sirius is unsure if he ought to be nurturing Harry or treating him like an adult. Their relationship is also healing from the disaster that was OotP so they’re still a bit awkward around each other. Anyway, Harry wakes up one night and finds Sirius in rough shape after a bad night with Moony. While Harry insists on bringing him to St. Mungo’s, Sirius shrugs it off, says it’ll be fine, and if Harry’s so concerned, he should help him. So idk Harry helps him strip out of his bloody clothes and starts—uhhhh—treating his wounds, trying to ignore the fact that he’s touching Sirius in a way that they don’t usually. They hardly hug! Rubbing balms and stuff on a very fit man who is groaning in pain? Done for.

Scenario 2:

Sirius is not one to tell Harry what to do, but Harry’s recruitment into the Auror office rankles him. Kingsley tries to convince Sirius that they’re working on reform in the DMLE, yet Sirius isn’t convinced it’s the right move for Harry to join a fairly corrupt organization. One night when Harry is visiting him with Ron and Hermione, and maybe a few drinks in, Sirius can’t help himself from telling Harry that it’s a big mistake. Harry gets pissed off. Sirius tells him he’s risking his life for a job that’ll stab him in the back or force him to compromise on his values, and Harry throws back that at least he’s actually doing something (as opposed to Sirius who is slowly, quietly healing from his traumas). All of a sudden, they’re dredging up old hurts, and Harry hasn’t felt this angry at Sirius since he learned he was innocent. Finally, Harry snaps at Ron and Hermione that they’re leaving, but Sirius tells Harry that they’re not finished. Ron and Hermione go, but Sirius and Harry are still arguing—Harry accuses Sirius of being childish and Sirius claims that Harry is completely obtuse. Anyway, Harry tries to leave but Sirius refuses to let him go. Uhhhh Harry shoves him into the wall or something and is about to tell him off when he realizes Sirius is looking at him strangely…as if…

Scenario 3:

Sirius has retreated from the magical world and feels more comfortable amongst Muggles who don’t know him or question his innocence. He becomes a mechanic, and within a few years, he opens his own shop where he can fix stuff and chat with people who are impressed with this oddly posh, incredibly honest mechanic. Harry, meanwhile, has become disillusioned with his career as an Auror and is a bit depressed; he no longer lives with the same purpose he had before Voldemort was defeated. He doesn’t know how to just be…a person. So Sirius teaches him about fixing things. It turns out that Sirius is a very good teacher, and Harry finds himself going to the shop over and over and over again, letting Sirius guide his hand as he like, drills something, idk. Anyway, this is a very sexy environment, and Sirius is very nurturing, and Harry feels safe and satisfied as he’s gently told what to do. He doesn’t have to think, all he has to do is listen to Sirius…

Scenario 4:

Speaking of teaching… because you know…

Harry is just beginning to teach at Hogwarts. He’s twenty-four, he’s left the Auror department, and he’s looking for something that feels worthwhile. Sirius has been teaching Transfiguration since McGonagall became headmistress, so he’s thrilled when Harry comes to Hogwarts. Harry is enjoying teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts but he notices that he’s getting a bit of attention—that kind of attention—from students. When he confides in Sirius, he shows him a note that was passing between a few fifth year girls. Sirius finds it very funny and reads the note which includes a litany of Harry’s physical attributes. But somehow, the words coming out of Sirius’s mouth hit…different… When Sirius squeezes his chin, teasing him about his “sparkling, green-grass eyes”, Harry realizes that…oh no… And Sirius immediately understands and grins, and continues to tease Harry for things that are definitely not in the note…

[showtoonzfan]

HELLUVA BOSS: S2E4 REVIEW

Ganna be honest, this episode wasn’t AS bad as I thought it would be, like I’m lowkey shocked. It’s certainly not the worst out of what we’ve seen, and it didn’t piss be off to high heaven, especially since the runtime is short and Blitz and Stolas are away from one another here, but….it still wasn’t….good, so let’s get into it.

So everyone already knows this episode was….so fast paced. Andrealphus doesn’t even get a proper introduction, and like I said before, in the span of one fucking minute, we have Stolas and Stella petty banter, Andrealphus, and Striker coming back to kidnap him. For starters, Yayy….glad to see Stolas and Stella acting like petty middle schoolers towards eachother. I was right when I said that the writers can’t figure out what they want their dynamic to be. Like….this is supposed to be the same couple that’s in an abusive serious situation, and it kinda doesn’t make me take them seriously if they’re just swearing at each other and bickering Viv. Also, glad to know the writers are outright saying “cheating is okay”- simply because Stella never liked him, so again….way to take the flaws Stolas had in season 1 and completely erase them and excuse them, just because you want Stolas to be in the right. It’s so distracting how fucking retconned they are, they might as well just have said “Stolas did nothing wrong” in Loo Loo Land if these were the writer’s true colors all along, but since Viv wrote this episode, I’m not surprised.

They hyped Andrealphus up but he gets like….two scenes and doesn’t do much like…lmao. In The Circus, again…they try to make it clear that divorce in the Goetia family is uwu serious, and Stella mentions Andrealphus, implying that he would be upset, or is a threat. When we actually meet him tho, he isn’t even….upset about the divorce? Why did Stella mention him then? What was the point of foreshadowing him and having Stolas say he doesn’t care what he thinks if Andrealphus was just going to be all like “oh you’re getting divorced? Okay, give us money then”- like it’s so fucking underwhelming but we’ll get back to him and Stella later. Also we see that Stolas has a scheduled meeting with Ozzie, implying that he may be trying to get that crystal after all. But…can this show just fucking….stop teasing us with future shit and just do it already? I’m so tired of the show dangling plot threads to come later in our face but they either NEVER come or the execution is underwhelming.

Blitz continues to be the most annoying and unfunny character in the entire show. His jokes and dialogue are a fucking pain to sit through and the scene where he’s trying to announce his appointment and fights with the lady in the waiting room drags and is unneeded. In fact, this whole side plot was unneeded. Viv doesn’t know how to fucking balance this show, she wants episodes to be serious and story driven but have a slice of life filler side plot at the same time and guess what? It doesn’t work or blend well. The constant cut aways are distracting from the main plot and you could have used this premise for a different episode. Loona doesn’t even have any dialogue, you could have at least improved the relationship between her and Blitz or had a moment of her being thankful that he was here and comforting her, appreciating him more….ya know….character development……..something that would have made this side plot actually useful since this is supposed to be a fucking “character driven” show about the relationships between the characters, but no. This side plot existed to pat out the run time and give Blitz and Loona something to do so they’re not just sitting there. As usual Loona does nothing, is useless and only there for the furry porn. The shot of her butt with the needle was 100% on purpose, I can tell.

(Also we’re on season 2 and only now finally get to see an upfront interaction of Imps being treated as the lower class, but it doesn’t do anything. This show tells us instead of showing us, they constantly remind you that imps are at the bottom but Blitz still literally has a good job that pays well and aside from the wrath imps providing food too feed hell, there’s no exploration of how imps having it lower than any other demon species. If anything it seems like Imps and the rest of the Hellborn species are all on the same ranking because Viv can’t storytell.) Also what is with the bleeping? I really don’t get it, it’s not funny and it’s distracting, making scenes awkward.

Predicted it, but Moxxie and Millie were…unneeded in this episode and were only included to fight Striker. These two really are useless when they’re not the focus and you can tell Viv has no idea what to do with them when they’re not. Also…..Viv…..Viv……is Moxxie strong, or not? Make up your fucking mind. In this episode he’s able to get the upper hand against a bigger imp, make him bleed and tie him to the car without an issue, and yet he’s been characterized as weak and not the muscle of the group. Is he strong or not? YAYY MORE CHARACTER INCONSISTENCIES! And glad to know Millie did nothing….as usual. Besides fight.

So Stolas has officially become Angel Dust, and Moxxie is slowly turning into Blitz so that’s great. It’s amazing how there’s barley a difference between the Stolas and Angel tho, he’s just Angel Dust. And Chaz. And Blitz. And every other fucking gay male character Viv writes. The constant cursing, the quick sassy witty banter, the sex jokes of him being tied up, you can tell Viv wrote this with those “harder” jokes between Moxxie and Stolas like…wow, it’s amazing how her gay characters have recycled personalities, aka the Sassy gay twink. Anyway, to me, Stolas before was horny and rabid don’t get me wrong, but something about the way he is in this episode just irks me more. I get that he hates Stella and Striker, but now he just seems like a petty sassy royal bird who acts like a child 24/7…..and it’s unfunny…..and annoying. All these characters are written like fucking children I can’t.

Apparently Striker has a reputation, is wanted around Hell and is well known for being an assassin now??? I thought he was just some Imp who was hired to kill someone? Lmao yet another retcon because if this was the case before, you’d think IMP would have heard of him in Harvest Moon. What’s also retconned is Striker saying he was asked to give Stolas the “full royal treatment”, to torture him I guess but….no? He was hired to shoot Stolas with an angelic gun. Why didn’t he just fucking shoot him. Speaking of that, where is the fucking angelic gun? The IMP gang had it last, and now they don’t have it. Also I already pointed this out but…Stolas can’t recognize Striker despite meeting him in episode 5 upfront. Let’s actually talk about Striker tho. He wasn’t perfect but he certainly was the best part of the episode. I actually applaud Bosco for his voice acting, and the scene with him snapping at the band to leave him alone was the only joke that made me laugh. I didn’t care about Striker that much before but this episode honestly made me did now, ignoring the fact that he’s characterized as egotistical. Problem is tho, like the rest of the antagonists, Stikers kinda just a tool. So he….may or may not be dead, I legit have no idea. If he is dead however….boy oh boy, that would piss me off, because IF he IS dead……then way to go guys, you killed off the only interesting and cool character. 🫠

I expected it, but it’s amazing how everything beforehand regarding him was for nothing if he does turn out dead. The tension he had between him and Moxxie? Would be gone. The fact that he appeared in Blitz’s hallucination, being someone who was similar to Blitz but they used their skills differently yet were the same regarding being mistreated by the upper class? Would be gone. Striker wanting to rebel against the higher class? Gone. Blitz doesn’t even get to interact with him before he dies, for a character that clearly had an impact on him. I was going to applaud this episode for actually being consistent and keeping Striker the same person who despises the upper class for what they do to the lower class, they even imply that he had someone he cares about taken away, but it’s all fucking gone if they KILLED HIM OFF. It all would go nowhere in the end and it pisses me off now because you HAD an interesting character, a villain who contrasted the main character, who had a point and could be humanized, and who rightfully calls out Stolas and his people being the scum of the earth, and now he might be dead because once again, Vivzie is an impatient writer who pushes the story forward too fast before we can even get to know these important characters, and also doesn’t want Stolas to be in a position where he’s in the wrong. Bro was literally eating at a rich place where imps serve you, treats his butler like a stress toy, talks down to Blitz and other imps…he’s not innocent Viv.

(It’s also obvious but this episode suffers from pacing issues, the constant cut aways, and scenes moving by so fast we can’t digest any of it. The FIGHT scene tho? Good god that was a mess, it’s literally faster than Millie’s fight scene from last episode, and the annoying songs playing as we kept cutting to Blitz at the appointment REALLY doesn’t help. I really feel like this studio can’t handle fight scenes….at all, or knows how they work. The video literally gets fucking blurry at one point like what the FUCK LMAO…..either hire someone who knows how to animate action scenes or don’t do action scenes at all.)

I knew Stella was still going to be one note, so I wasn’t surprised, but honestly what did piss me off is how stupid they make her. She was inconsistent before but now she’s just an idiot, because apparently she needed to be TOLD that once Stolas dies, everything goes to Octavia. Like are you kidding me? She’s so dumb that she needed to be told that?? She doesn’t even respond when Andre mentions Via, lmao her whole character really is “me hate Stolas and me want him dead” and nothing else. I’ll give the episode this, even though we barley got to see Andre, he wasn’t insufferable like I thought he would be, in fact, he’s more tolerable than Stella and Stolas combined since he’s the one who’s annoyed at their bickering and calls Stella out for being dumb, but that’s not a writing flex. Andre clearly seems to be the smart mastermind leading Stella now, I have no idea wether if they’ll later make her sympathetic and paint Andre out to be the baddie leading her, or not, it would be bad writing either way tho. Speaking of that….the way Andre treats Stella is off, and I don’t mean in the way that he could be evil. Like other critic blogs have been saying, he calls her attractive, a minx, and a vixen, all words you….wouldn’t really call your sister. It’s really gross and I’m starting to think the information we’ve been given of these two secretly screwing might be true. Like…if we’re doing straight up incest, I’m ganna hurl.

Andre also is all like “if we keep him alive, we’ll have more opportunities, let’s wait till we can get the upper hand”- and I’m…..what? You HAD the upper hand, that’s number one, and number two, this dialogue is VERY vague and makes me feel like Viv had no idea what exactly Andre’s end goal is here, so she used this dialogue as an excuse to figure it out later since she doesn’t plan shit ahead. Because what is Andre’s end goal? It’s confusing. Stella wants him dead, but then they’re talking about money and possessions. Andre seems to want to help Stella have Stolas’s estate, but she just wanted him dead because she hates him. Now you’re telling me she wants his estate too? YAY MORE RETCONS AND CONFUSING PLOT HOLES. Guess we’ll have to wait for Viv to figure out their motivations later lol.

Yada yada another retcon, Blitz cares for Uwu Stolas and is a dumbass for acting like he never knew Stolas could get hurt despite having a fucking angelic weapon on him and learning royals could be in danger in the last season, moving on-

So we’re finally at the end, the most important scene, the text scene. For starters, just like the other critic blogs have been saying……Ozzie’s finally……FINALLY gets brought up again and acknowledged, and it’s over a fucking blink and you’ll miss it half- assed text message. Like….WOW Viv, way to scrape the bottom of the barrel and confront this in the most underwhelming way possible. Would have been actually impactful and better if we saw this go down on fucking screen and have Blitz and Stolas address this in person, but nah let’s just have it happen off screen because storytelling and Viv? They don’t know each other!

But putting that aside, I want to talk about two important problems I had with this scene, because nobody is talking about how these messages make no goddamn sense. So if you actually read the messages between Blitz and Stolas, I hate how Stolas is characterized here, and I don’t mean how he’s suddenly acting like he always cared about Blitz because that’s been a problem since Ozzie’s, I’m talking about how oblivious and emotionally clingy he is. Like…seriously these text messages are a fucking mess. He suddenly acts clueless to how Blitz feels, wondering if he was upset or not, as if Blitz didn’t fucking tell him exactly why afterwards. Fuck you mean by “you just took off?”- I’m sorry Viv, did you forget the scene where Blitz drove Stolas home that night and called him out on his bullshit, saying all he did was treat him like a plaything? Because yeah, Ozzie’s may have finally been fucking mentioned in this show, but now it’s retconned AGAIN because apparently Stolas is a dumbass and can’t remember why Blitz was mad at him in the first place when he had spelled it out loud and clear. Stolas’s text messages make it out to be like they left the restaurant after Ozzie’s taunting and the scene with them at Stolas’s house never happened. Then Stolas is saying shit like “okay well phew glad you’re not upset then Ozzie is a kidder lol I didn’t mind the jabs he makes at me”- I…..WHAT??? What the fuck is going on? Why is Stolas written differently here? Why is the events of Ozzie’s written differently now? Stolas was literally embarrassed by Ozzie calling him out and hid in his menu, much to Blitz’s dismay. They then leave, Stolas can obviously tell Blitz is upset, and when he tries to reach to him gently, Blitz shuts him out, causing Stolas to cry alone. This episode is apparently now acting like their quarrel never happened because the dialogue is written as if they’re referring to Ozzie’s torment, not Blitz calling him out. This legit pisses me off because the show is once again telling us what we saw didn’t happen and rewriting it to fool us. Making Stolas out to be some vulnerable softie who cares about Blitz’s well being too—

And finally, Viv does what she does best by wanting to make you ship Blitz and Stolas together SO badly, but accidentally contradict herself by showing even MORE proof on why these two aren’t good for each other. Putting all the retconning aside, in this case it’s that…surprise surprise, Blitz is constantly miserable and unhappy around Stolas, or whenever they interact. And it’s not even that Blitz can’t communicate, or sucks at emotions, he just doesn’t fucking LIKE Stolas, and I don’t understand how many times the show is going pin that nail on the head until something actually happens, because this scene would have been more impactful if we weren’t already HERE before. Remember The Circus Viv? Stolas going through his Instagram and noticing Blitz was miserable all the time, and reflecting on how their relationship was a figment of his imagination? This scene is the same, it’s just done through text messages now. Why are we doing this again. And I don’t get what Viv’s end goal is here. Is she trying to make Stolas realize that Blitz never gave a shit about him (because we’re on season two and this bird brain can’t take a hint) or is she trying to make Stolas go “I thought he didn’t care but omg he texted me “get well soon” he DOES love me!” Yeah…probably the last option. This ship sucks. If anything…..why can’t Blitz and Stolas just be fucking friends? You wanna say they care about each other? Fine. But romantically, it just doesn’t work. They aren’t good for each other, and function better as friends, but GOD forbid, we can’t have that because they do the dirty in bed SO IT CAN’T BE PLATONIC, it must be romantic! I was literally right, this ship gets worse and worse every passing episode and Viv wants you to ship it so hard despite the fact that she STILL hasn’t given me ONE good reason why they should be a couple. End of story.

So that pretty much it. This episode was nowhere near has bad as the previous three, it’s the most tolerable, but still heavily flawed in the writing department. The dialogue still lacks nuance and sounds like an edgy 12 year old wrote it, the world is still empty, pacing was off, the animation was off too at times, the constant sex jokes during serious scenes are distracting and take away from what’s going on, the side plot didn’t need to happen, there’s also SCENES that didn’t need to happen, there are multiple retcons and empty plot holes/threads, and Viv once again can’t write a complex serious gay couple. She just doesn’t have the writing chops for it, especially since she keeps rewriting aspects and flip flopping between who is the worse lover and who isn’t. I’ll talk more about this episode later, you know how I rant a lot lol. Tomorrow I’ll be finally answering inbox questions too! If you managed to read my endless rant essay, I thank you! See you soon!

[secret-unburnt-guitars]

The 1983 Kilroy Was Here Tour Program (...and its glaring issue)

There is in existence a tour program that was made to promote KWH. Printed in 1983, (when else would it be?) the program most likely was distributed at the concert itself.

I first found it on eBay, and god, did it piss me off when I read it.

For the most part, it does a decent job at bringing the reader and/or audience member up to speed with the plot behind... whatever they're about to witness. Feasible design work too, good photos, just a little large in my opinion, but who am I to complain?

(Sorry if the quality's low, my scanner stopped working so this is from my phone camera.)

The program is supposed to be in-universe, explaining the "recent events" that have occurred, including things like Dr. Righteous' rise to power, Jonathan's hijacking, and Kilroy's escape. It touches on specifics such as Kilroy only serving five years of his life sentence among other things such as excerpts from faux articles about Hyde and Vanish being hired to be Righteous' official cronies.

The very large problem here (plain to see) is the members' biographies. "Oh but Rosie I don't see what's wrong with it, it's just some corny way of listing off the members while staying in character it's not that important" I'm going to be honest with you. I am looking you directly in the eye now. First of all, hang on for a moment. I'll explain. Second, no, it's not important. Not to you, maybe, but have you ever had a rock in your shoe while you walk and every time you take a step you feel that rock stab directly into your pinky toe, and when you finally get a chance to take off your shoe, you realize somehow it's in your fucking sock, so you have to go through all the trouble of sitting down, taking off your sock, shaking out that stupid rock that turned out to be probably the tiniest pebble you've ever seen in your entire life, putting on your sock again, and spending 2 minutes re-lacing your shoe because you decided to wear Converse that day like a bumbling moron, wondering how in the hell that rock even managed to make it in? That's what this feels like to me. This has been bugging me for almost a year. It's never going to stop bugging me.

Sorry, anyway, if you've watched Caught In the Act, you would know that the entire concert takes place within Kilroy's flashback. To recap a previous post: after the minifilm was displayed and Mr. Roboto was... performed, the show briefly transitions into a scripted banter between Kilroy and Jonathan. Jonathan asks if Kilroy was actually responsible for the death at the show, in which Kilroy reveals that he was framed by "that son of a bitch Righteous" and proceeds to explain how the fateful night at the Paradise truly went.

"The crowd was so psyched. There was so much tension and excitement," he says. "But when JY started the show in his guitar solo, the place went wild!"

This goes into a full-length concert. A full-length concert, in fact, with each existing member of Styx at the time. The actual Tommy Shaw, James Young, and Chuck and John Panozzo were all there and playing their guitars and drums and bass and whatnot under the name Kilroy. Narcissistic much? Not to fear. Dennis DeYoung unintentionally erased himself from this story, as the show was Kilroy's flashback. Obviously, this means they very much exist within KWH as themselves and at roughly the same time as their fictional counterparts. There is absolutely no way that any of them would be the same person, inevitably creating four sets of doppelgängers that scamper around Chicago.

Now the thing that makes me want to scream as loud as I can at 5 AM:

As shown above, each bio lists the members' names and their 'aliases' as the characters they play. Again, you would probably think "oh that's probably not to be interpreted the way you are right now," in which I would curtly remind you about the rock in your shoe. Look at JY's. Really look at it.

"Reformed guitarist." Who the fuck reformed him?????? Hyde and Vanish I can somewhat understand, but Righteous is the founder and leader of the Majority for Musical Morality. I'm speaking completely within the officially established canon here and I'm not referencing any of my own fanlore. You go "oh well maybe someone else reformed him and then he became Dr. Righteous" What's in your shoe right now? Huh? Do you want to tell me what's in your shoe right now? Righteous is at the very top, who would reform him??? He's been like this from the beginning. JY couldn't have been reformed, because he was at the concert playing the guitar when the band gets raided by the MMM. The existence of the organization AND Code 672 confirms the simultaneous existence of Righteous. They're two different people who coincidentally look the same.

I want to focus on Jonathan real quick too because I think this is the second-most blatant out of all of them, right behind JY.

At the tail-end of their concert after the raid, that one nerdy guy from the Heavy Metal Poisoning number gets killed off. This ends the flashback and brings us back to the present and especially back to Jonathan, who most definitely did not know about any of that and sings a little song. When he gets that weird glowing guitar in the finale it is made absolutely clear that Jonathan Chance does not know how to play, thus separating Jonathan from Tommy. (On a side note, this means that the person that raided the Dr. Righteous Show in the HMP music video was probably Tommy. Good on him.)

This physically hurts me to think about but I try and keep my peace by reminding myself that there's nothing I can do about this. I wouldn't have much of a problem with this if it wasn't actually (albeit unintentionally) canon.

This isn't a plot hole, this is a plot trench. I can't keep my peace. This is hell on Earth. Save me.

[therealcocoshady]

(I’m rambling in this, apologies)

So, here’s my two cents on the horrible, toxic relationship that cheated on both sides thing. And I know it’s absolutely no ‘who’s more right or who’s more wrong’ situation, the entire thing is just messed up and horribly tragic from the start:

From what I can gather, and I may be wrong which I apologize, but it started off on one side at first. There was a breaking point somewhere that ended up revealing an even deeper hole they were digging. Essentially, it was a lose-lose situation. No one was getting out of it with something positive.

Now, there’s no excuse at all and there’s no beating around the bush in saying that both did horrible things to others and especially each other. But if we consider the environment they lived and were raised in, not to mention that the cheating likely happened after YEARS of fighting and fighting and fighting as kids, then teenagers, then young adults; despite all of that, they likely had no one else to turn to but each other. It was a matter of survival under the facade of living.

But there’s a question that remains to be answered: Who started the toxicity, and continued to push the other to the point of fighting back?

And yet, they still knew each other more than any other stranger; You can’t just let go of someone so familiar so easily.

And then there’s the multiple reports of others that knew them, and they pretty much agreed on the same thing that (according to them), Kim was the generally more unpleasant one. You can be treated unfairly, be a victim, but also be incredibly difficult to get along with let alone help, and that didn’t help her case at all.

(In my opinion, I think everyone’s an ass, and I’m taking their words with a grain of salt.)

Still, Marshall going out with Kesia whilst being married? Yeah that’s fucked up. If Kim was also cheating during that same time then it’s doubly fucked up.

Final point: Marshall used his music as a way to express his rage and retaliation. And it definitely worked… a bit too well. Probably riding off of that satisfaction of feeling like you’re finally getting something good in a warzone of bad must’ve felt like a sick sort of heaven.

Don't you dare apologize for rambling. Nothing fills my heart with joy more than people leaving long ass messages in my Asks ❤️ (nice ones, at least 😅)

I absolutely agree with you ! The whole thing was tragic and unhealthy and it really pisses me off to see some people romanticize that situation. If Marshall Mathers hadn't turned into a successful rapper who, it seems, cleaned up his act, everyone would look at him for what the situation makes him look like : a lying, cheating asshole who eventually turned into a abusive husband.

Now, I know it takes two to tango. But from what I see online (algorithm might make me biased though ?) tons of people call out Kim's abuse towards him. Yet, only few people call him out. And I'll be honest : as much as I like him as an artist, as much as I love his music, it bothers me to see a woman treated this way when, in truth, the whole situation was messed up, on both sides.

From what I know, both of them had a rough upbringing and it certainly didn't help matters. It is a fact that the situation of the household, the family structure and the potential abuse in the family have an impact on people's development. For her as much as for him, guess it sort of made sense that they reproduced a fucked up pattern.

As to the question of who started it, we may never know. I don't think Marshall actually spoke about the situation in depth, and neither did Kim, I think ? I Most accounts we have come from third parties so who knows the credit we might give them... I don't doubt that there's some level of truth there, but I tend to be wary of people who step forward to give insider scoops about other people's relationships...

In truth, I don't think it matters who started it. If the matter is settled between these two, then it's their business. What counts, is my opinion, is that people are aware of the mechanisms that might lead them to vilify one while absolving the other.

As for both Kim and Marshall, I hope they're happy where they are in life now, that they got the help they needed and that they're able to maintain healthy relationships for the sake of their kids.

[prosopagn0sis-a]

@cheshire-shuntaro, my beloved. missed you dearly. in this life and in every other.

we’ve met years ago, without the scorching sun kissing our skin and the ocean breeze caressing our faces as we walk with our feet in the sand around the nearest beach.

i wasn’t rich then — well, i still am not, relying on white rabbit’s money — the nickname not suiting him at all — but his money is mine, even if i don’t feel like it.

we’re married. whatever we have is shared between us two, split in half, his small fortune included.

shuntarō has his report today, as each sunday, but… something’s off. weird. as i wake up, i know the day’s gonna be different — maybe it’s the gut feeling i follow combined with the logic, or maybe i finally got the full access to morphogenetic fields and the knowledge stored there is telling me something i cannot decode yet.

i make my best effort not to wake my husband — oh, how weird it sounds, husband; i never planned to get married, but when he proposed, i just agreed without a second thought. i was seated on his lap in a strip club as he requested a private dance. he recognized me from college, i did not until he spoke to me.

“marry me.”

i didn’t think twice.

“under one condition. you will never get me this awful tea again.”

it’s not like we knew each other well before that encounter — we didn’t. i approached him once at the university while he was studying before an exam, correcting one of his chemical formulas. demanded tea for that. got it the next morning, a cheap and disgusting piss-colored liquid in the smallest size possible from a local chain coffee shop.

for some, my decision could seem impulsive. it was. anything to escape the life i was living after i had to drop out on my second year. everything else was better than that, easier to figure the solution for any problem i could encounter later on.

i didn’t have to worry; waking by shuntarō's side each day, staying by his side at all times. he never cheated, never lied, never left. also, he was honest about his profession from day one.

“this is my boss. he’s a gang leader. we make cocaine.”

it wasn’t a mistake to share that; i never left him and appreciated forwardness. this, later on, made me acquire the lovely title of cheshire cat — always doing whatever i wanted, however i wanted, choosing my own ways and paths instead of the ones demanded, never siding with anyone. i wasn’t officially a part of the gang, so what would they do, anyway? enrage their lead chemist by hurting me? as if.

i make my best effort to not wake my husband as i slip from under his arm and leave our shared bed. something’s off, i can feel it. time for me to change the routine, even by a little bit. besides, shuntaro’s been working hard these past few weeks. he deserves a little treat.

i like it here, i really do. despite the city being run by drug lords and cartels, i have this privilege of being safe. i stroll around the place just a little bit, visiting the bakery for the still warm loaf of bread and some coffee i know white rabbit would love. then, i make breakfast.

i do not wait for him, no; he’ll get up soon enough, his alarm never failed to get him out of the bed. nothing to worry for me. there was, in fact, a thing that did.

whoever followed me on my little walk around the neighborhood was about to meet his fate. i wouldn’t kill them right away, obviously; first i will get to know why would they do it in the first place and for whom do they work.

it’s nothing to inform my dear sleeping love about. he doesn’t need extra stress today.

and so, armed with the knowledge of thousands interrogation and torture techniques, the cheshire cat is off to the city, about to catch these filthy rats.

[capricornlevi]

In Close Proximity, Part 2 - Jean Kirstein x F!Reader

summary: jean's silent treatment lasts a bit longer than you anticipated. thankfully, you're both able to address it together, thanks to some very unexpected circumstances

cw: explicit sexual content, consumption of alcohol, semi-public sex, fingering, vaginal sex, praise kink, mild tw for claustrophobia (two characters get stuck in an elevator)

NSFW, 18+ - MDNI - MINORS and AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!

taglist from part 1: @tacobellfreshavocado @moonandflowersfairy @reiners-milkbiddies @andivvs @nothisispatrick300

wc: 11.2k

This is the final part of the series. Part 1 is available here

“Beer pong in the kitchen in five!”

You don’t even need to turn around to know who’s shouting. Reiner’s voice is loud, audible even over the chaotic noises of the party, which is likely why he was sent out to deliver the message — that, plus the fact that he was probably the one who suggested it in the first place. As co-host, his request is pretty hard to refuse. 

You choose avoidance instead. Staying put in the quiet corner of the room you’ve been lingering in, you allow the rest of your friends to scramble to the kitchen and hopefully make so much noise that nobody notices your absence.

You’re not trying to be unsociable, you’re just exhausted. 

It’s just after two a.m. now, which wouldn’t be so bad were it not for the fact that finals begin in a few days. Questionable timing for a party, sure, but it serves as one last celebration before the chaos of exam season and because of that, you didn’t want to turn down the invite. 

Now, with hindsight, you realise you probably should have. 

You slip your phone out of your pocket and unlock it, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram in the hopes of distracting yourself (and staying awake). With your other hand, you give your half-finished can of beer a little squeeze, feeling the metal flex under your fingers as you suppress a yawn.

Maybe you should have lied about being sick or said you had other plans. It would have been more sensible to just make up an excuse. You’ve had to pull three all-nighters this past week alone just to get your assignments submitted in time, and your sleep cycle hasn’t fully recovered since. 

Though, in your defence, you didn’t think the party would lastthis long . Foolish and naive as it might have been, you thought this whole thing would just be a few casual beers with friends, not … this. 

This is a big party. Again, if you had stopped to actually think things through before accepting the invite, you might have been able to guess that Reiner’s position on the football team would mean that he’d be inviting the entire team, some supporters, significant others, drinking buddies …

How could you even be surprised that well over a hundred people showed up?

Eight hours have passed since people started drinking and it’s still busy now. Although quite a few people have gone their separate ways over the course of the evening, either heading out to other parties or to nightclubs in town, you’d guess there are still thirty people at the house, give or take. 

So far, you’ve spoken to approximately twenty-nine of them. 

Number 30 is sitting in the kitchen tapping a keg, last you heard, though you definitely don’t care — to be honest, Number 30 is pissing you off. You’re well and truly sick of having to avoid Jean Kirstein everywhere you go. 

He hasn’t spoken to you since that time you ran into him at the café after winter break, and to make things worse, you’ve been running into each other a lot since then. 

Remember back when you justified hooking up with him because you didn’t have the same friend group? It seems as though your university is a bit too small for that to have ever been the case. 

He is just … he’s always there, and whether it’s at parties, Reiner’s football games, even just bumping into him on campus, it’s always awkward. 

To make matters worse, your mutual friends are usually there too — the weighted silence between you and Jean is incredibly obvious to anyone in the vicinity. 

It’s annoying for many reasons, mostly because it’s unfair. It’s difficult to accept Jean’s sudden silent treatment since you’re really not sure what actually went wrong between the two of you. 

Things were fine, and then they weren’t. 

That night at the party was a reasonably successful hook-up by your standards and so you can’t imagine it has anything to do with that. You both got to finish, made sure to use protection, and the fact that he left immediately afterwards meant you didn’t have to reckon with the awkwardness of the following morning. All-in-all, a great experience. Ten out of ten. 

So when Historia pointed out his frosty attitude towards you at the cafe after winter break, you had assumed Jean was just having a bad day. You reasoned that he might have been in a rush to get to class, or maybe he hadn’t been sleeping well, or maybe it was one of another thousand possible excuses for his rushed exit. 

It was the following week that your optimism started to wane, when he pretended to not hear you greet him when you bumped into each other on campus. 

And again in the supermarket a week later.

In the queue at the local pizza place, as well. 

But it was only when you and your roommates met with him at the college bar on Valentine’s Day that you knew it definitely wasn’t a fluke. 

Jean was there with his friends and you arrived with yours, but when he spotted Annie and Porco and went to greet them, he did not look at you once. Not once, and even Annie noticed it. He never made eye contact with you, never replied to your questions, and slipped away to order a drink at the bar when he saw you approach to confront him about it. 

All the excuses in the world couldn’t explain his behaviour, except for one thing — Jean was mad at you. 

Well, it would be more accurate to say that he is mad at you. Currently. This is a present-tense situation, tragically. 

You knock back the last of your beer with a grimace.

“Hey, whatcha still doing here?”

Before you can turn to face Reiner, he’s practically on top of you. You don’t even have time to lift your head from your phone when a large, muscular arm gets thrown around your shoulder, nearly knocking the air from your chest. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, turning to him with a smile and feigning ignorance.

“Everyone’s in the kitchen! Beer pong!”

You’re painfully aware of that. You were hoping to lay low for another while so as to avoid the crowd - specifically one person in that very crowd  - but you can’t really think of another excuse on the spot.

“Yeah?” you ask half-heartedly. 

He seems to take your defeated exhale as a sign of surrender, his face breaking into a beaming smile as he grabs you by the arm (with considerably less force than earlier, thankfully), guiding you out to the kitchen. 

“Come on! And if Porco asks, you’re on my fuckin’ team. He’s trying to poach people when he thinks I’m not looking.”

The journey isn’t the smoothest. You nearly stumble over a pile of crushed beer cans and have to push past a lot of sweaty football players, finally making it to the kitchen a few moments later. Reiner only releases his grip on your arm once you’re safely inside and not at risk of catching a stray elbow to the head. 

Once you’ve taken a moment to adjust to the stuffy and beer-scented atmosphere in this part of the house, you glance around the packed kitchen. 

Reiner was right in that pretty much everyone’s here - as many as can fit in, anyway - and you see Porco and Annie across the room by the fridge. They wave, and you return it with a forced smile. 

There’s a big table in the centre of the room with a keg underneath it, as well as a few chairs pulled out against the walls to make space. Most of them are being used to hold stacks of empty cups, jackets, purses, and, weirdly, a singular bright-pink cowboy hat with flashing lights around the brim. 

Jean is sitting on one of the other chairs. You spot him far too quickly, seeing him chat to a group of girls you recognise from somewhere (Historia’s housemates, maybe?). He’s talking to them all with that lop-sided grin on his face, one that sends a weird feeling through you; a bizarre mix of fondness and resentment. 

Resentment wins out, and so you stare at him with absolutely no subtlety, willing him to look your way. He doesn’t budge, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead of him. One of the girls starts laughing loudly at some story he’s told. 

Reiner sees you staring and chuckles, clapping a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. Your friends are aware of Jean’s grudge - it’s hard not to be aware of it, considering neither of you tries to hide it - though they’re just as confused as to the cause. 

You haven’t told any of them about your night with Jean. Some carefully-placed questions over the past few months have shown, to your relief, that nobody has any suspicions that something happened between the two of you. 

Unfortunately, that means they’re of absolutely no help when it comes to figuring out this mystery. 

“He hates me,” you groan despairingly, still looking in Jean’s direction as Reiner hands you another beer that he grabbed from the cooler. “He actually hates me.”

Reiner scoffs. “He doesn’t hate you.”

Well, that gives you some hope. Reiner plays on the same team as Jean’s roommate Eren, so maybe he’s finally heard something?

“And how do you know that?” you ask, trying to keep the curiosity from leeching into your tone.

“Because it’s Jean,” Reiner answers with a laugh. “Jean likes everyone!”

Your hopes are crushed into a fine powder. Apparently Reiner is the only one of your friends not to pick up on Jean’s grudge, and not only that, but his words also make you feel even more irritated by this whole situation. 

Because Jean, who likes everyone, does not like you at all.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow. It would be so much easier if you could hate him. But you don’t, because the most irritating thing is that he's being relatively civil. Petty, but civil. 

He hasn’t been spreading rumours or insulting you  —  Historia, Porco, and Annie intercept most of the gossip at your college, so the fact they haven’t heard anything untoward proves that Jean’s been keeping his mouth shut. 

… which is funny, because that’s kind of the whole problem. 

As strange as it seems, part of you wishes that he’d just act like the asshole you always assumed he was. It might make things a little easier if he was being outright rude or hostile. 

But he doesn’t. Part of you wonders if he’s waiting for you to be the aggressor, to lose it on him publicly and embarrass yourself. 

Because of that, you don’t break. He’s the one who started this, so he can be the one to finish it.

At least … you think he’s the one who started this.

“You’re right, Reiner,” you say, glancing over at Jean one more time. He averts his eyes when you try to meet them. “It’s probably nothing.” 

At Reiner’s prompting, you pick up the little plastic ping-pong ball resting on the countertop and head over to the table. You toss it without thinking, and it manages to land with a small splash in one of the red cups lined up on the other side. 

You’re so caught up in the excitement of victory - and the fact you’ve successfully found a good distraction - that you don’t even realise you haven’t formed teams yet. As the others rush into place, setting their cups aside and trying to push past to reach the ends of the table, you notice Jean stays seated. 

Probably for the best, you figure. It would be awkward no matter which side he picked. 

It’s fine. This is fine. If he’s happy to pretend you don’t exist, then maybe you should try the same thing with him.

You successfully land your next throw as well. 

The rest of the night passes in a blur of beer and obnoxious football chants, vodka and poorly-curated Spotify playlists, and the party ends only when Annie drags you and Porco out the door to get pizza. 

You never thought thatyou would be the one wanting to stay longer, but it was a fun night. You’re glad you went in the end. You got to see friends you hadn't met in a while, performed admirably in three separate rounds of beer pong, and it was nice to have a proper send-off before everyone goes their separate ways over the summer.

But when you arrive home, chewing on some suspiciously cold pizza and forcing yourself to drink a pint of water before bed, you realise that you’re left feeling unsettled. 

Like something, somewhere, went wrong, and you know it’s not the hangover talking.

… yet. 

Unsurprisingly, you wake with a pounding headache and a stale, bitter taste in your mouth that makes every breath feel more disgusting than the last. An empty pizza box sits on your desk and your clothes from last night are strewn across the floor, obscuring the tote bag that contains stacks of notecards you’ve prepared for this week’s finals. 

You sit up in bed and rub your eyes. When you glance down at your hands, you see streaks of mascara that you didn’t properly remove when drunkenly taking off your makeup last night.

Ugh. Your stomach is lurching. 

And it’s the Monday of exam week. 

And everything feels off. 

You’re not completely unprepared for finals, but this is still not an ideal start to the week. Your hungover brain throbs against your skull at the very thought of opening a textbook.

Thankfully, your first exam isn’t until tomorrow afternoon, meaning you can work from your bed for most of the day. The library is a no-go until the evening; you figure that the other students would appreciate you staying home until the scent of beer stops leaching from your pores.

It’s not the worst prospect. Over the years, you’ve discovered that you actually prefer going to the library much later than most. Campus is disgustingly busy during business hours, plus there’s never a queue for the library printers at night — it just makes sense to go when the distractions are most limited. 

These late-night library visits are probably not the best move for your ailing sleep cycle, but you don’t care. It’s a short-term sacrifice.

After a half-hour spent in bed trawling through TikTok, you finally feel like you’re able to stand upright without having your legs give out underneath you. You pad out to the kitchen to make some dry toast and black coffee with the hopes that it will cure your ailments.

It doesn’t. Taking ibuprofen washed down with a glass of ice-cold water doesn't provide much help, either. 

By the time you get back to your room and set up at your desk, it takes you nearly an hour to find the willpower to open up your laptop. 

When you do manage to open it, it takes you twice as long as usual to even remember your password. 

Fuck it — you need a nap.

It goes against every college student's survival instinct in your body, but you give up after forty-five minutes of half-assed studying.

-

The nap helps, but you wake in a cold sweat. After blinking slowly, trying to piece together why you’re so suddenly stressed, a peek over at the clock on your wall tells you exactly why. 

Most of the day is wasted , you haven’t studied a single notecard, and you have an exam in less than twenty-four hours. 

Yes, you had allowed yourself some time to recover — but not this much time. You overslept alot . 

You scramble to get changed and gather your things, managing to calm yourself down enough to leave at around seven p.m. 

After saying a quick goodbye to Annie and Porco, you set off for the library, armed with a couple of energy drinks, these weird vitamin gummies your roommates swear cure all hangovers, and your headphones. It’ll be another all-nighter, so you pick up a sandwich in the campus café just before it closes. 

Your stomach twists when you get to the library at around eight and see that it’s still as busy as ever. 

How annoying. It’s cold, too, which makes you wish you wore jeans and a sweatshirt instead of a skirt and blouse, but you’ve been too busy to do laundry and so had to settle for what you had available. 

You find a seat eventually and settle in for a long night. Setting up your laptop and notes, you stick in your headphone and turn the volume up to the highest setting - again, not the best for your health, but it should help to keep you awake. 

After an hour, you’ve covered one chapter. Slower progress than you’d have liked, but it’s still better than nothing. 

Another ninety minutes and the second chapter is finished, plus the others at your table have started to pack up and leave — finally. It’s just you in this row now. 

More time passes and even more students start to call it a night. As the pile of finished notecards on your desk grows, the more empty chairs start appearing on the floor. By midnight, only a handful of people are left. 

It’s a relief. You didn’t want to be rude, but the girl across from you had the loudest laptop keyboard ever created, and the guy two rows back had hayfever so strong that you were tempted to go pick up some antihistamines yourself if it would help him stop sniffling. You’re grateful for the peace and quiet now. 

Scanning the rows, you try to count the remaining students. 

You spot a girl you recognise from your Thursday morning seminar - that’s one - then there’ssomeone across from her who has a stack of books so high it looks like a Jenga tower - that’s two. 

You spot a guy who you think is on the basketball team - three - and …

Oh no. 

You squint to make sure you’re seeing things correctly, but once you catch sight of that distinctive hazel-brown hair, you know you’re not mistaken.

Jean.

He’s sitting about five rows across from you and over to the left, his brows furrowed in concentration as he works, seemingly unaware of your presence as he studies late into the night. 

Damn it.

You hadn’t seen him before now, probably because your line of sight was obscured by the many people sitting between you. 

In a complete shift, you now wish the library was a little busier again. If that were the case, you can pretend to have not noticed him and he would be none the wiser, but there’s only a handful of people left sitting here. Running into Jean now seems inevitable.

Could you get up and move to another row?

No, you shut down that thought immediately — if he’s so uncomfortable with you, then he can be the one to move. You shouldn’t have to go out of your way to avoid someone who won’t even tell you why he’s upset in the first place. 

You force your gaze back to the open book in front of you. To fully ensure that your attention is focused on your studies and not Jean, you take your headphones out of your bag and put them on, hitting ‘play’ on your tried-and-tested study playlist. You take a sip of your energy drink and get back to work.

Another few hours pass and, thankfully, the pile of unread books has begun to shrink as your stack of notecards grows taller. Suppressing a yawn, you glance at the time. Two a.m. again. 

You could stay longer. You have a protein bar in your bag that could keep you sustained for another while, plus the sugar and caffeine from your selection of beverages mean you’re not completely exhausted.

You rub your eyes, noticing that your vision has gone blurry. You blink heavily to try to clear it, and when you open your eyes, you know for certain that it’s time to head home … 

Because you’re the only person left on this floor.

It’s not that there’s a risk of you being kicked out - the library is open all night long in the run-up to exams - it’s just sort of eerie being here all by yourself. Your body is also starting to tap out despite your best efforts, and you’d rather not accidentally doze off here and wake up in a worse state than this morning. 

You shove your notes and laptop in your bag and stretch, your aching muscles grateful for the change in posture. Scanning your desk to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything, you stand up to leave.

This is progress. You remained focused, got some work done, and absolutely did not think about how Jean was there. You did such a good job that you didn’t even see him leave, come to think of it, and that’s fine — he wouldn’t have noticed if you left, after all. 

Heading over to the closest elevators, you see the doors start to shut. You quicken your pace to a jog; normally you wouldn’t bother rushing, but you’re on the fourth floor and don’t fancy walking all the way down those stairs. You call out a quick, “hold the elevator!”, hoping that whoever is inside hears you in time.

They do. 

A hand reaches out to stop the door from closing, and when the elevator opens fully, you see who stopped it for you.

Jean, again . 

He must have known it was you running to catch it — you were unable to see through the opening in the doors, but he had a better view from where he’s standing. 

He knew it was you, so you’re not sure why he decided to do this. It’s the closest he’s come to acknowledging your existence in months. 

You think for a moment about taking the stairs but decide against it. It’ll only make things more uncomfortable, and as you noted earlier, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting under your skin.

As you take your time to mull this over, he’s still holding the door. He clears his throat to get your attention, the ghost of a frown on his face as he waits for you to step in. 

“You coming?” he asks, the sound of his voice almost unfamiliar. 

You don’t say anything, you don’t nod or acknowledge it explicitly in any way. You just swallow your doubts and step inside. 

You press the button for the ground floor even though it’s already lit up, turning to face away from him as you do so. 

Neither of you looks at one another. Not even a side glance. 

“Thanks,” you say finally, a last attempt at an olive branch, and he doesn’t reply. He stays there staring at the elevator door, probably willing it to move faster. 

You huff out a breath, half-annoyed and half-amused. If he notices, he says nothing of the sort. 

The elevator starts moving. You cast your eyes to the ceiling, grateful that at least this ordeal will be over quickly. 

According to the little neon number displayed above the door, you’re on the third floor of the library when the walls of the elevator start to shake. Slight at first, it emits a soft rattling noise, one that could just be dismissed as the normal creaking of what appears to be a very old unit. 

But then it gets louder. 

You frown, looking around the space for the source of the noise. It sounds like a rough scraping sound, something on the other side of the walls. The sound is unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. You feel your stomach drop. 

The floor lurches a bit, shaking in jumpy motions as it tries to descend, and your hand shoots out against the wall to steady yourself.

Jean does the same, his lips pinched into a flat line and face paler than you’ve seen it. You hear him swear under his breath; he changes up his chosen curse word with every lurch of the elevator floor. 

For a few moments, you’re still moving but only very, very slowly, the noise getting progressively louder as the walls shake incessantly until the elevator finally grinds to a halt with a deafening screech somewhere between the second and first floors. 

Your heart rate is through the roof, a panicked shout threatening to erupt when you see the lights start to flicker. You brace yourself for the sensation of falling, fearing the elevator will drop suddenly without notice.

Thankfully, the lights stay on.

You figure that’s a good sign; as long as the lights are on, it surely means that some of the electrical supply is still connected. 

You don’t know much about elevators, but right now, all you care about is that it stays in one place until help arrives. 

Five, ten seconds pass, and no drop. No movement of any sort. 

Deep breath. 

You turn to Jean, letting out a shallow chuckle when you see the appalled look on his face. Sweat beads on his forehead, his eyes are wide in horror. He looks seconds away from passing out. 

He turns to you when he hears your bizarre reaction, his eyes widening further as he does so, both fear and annoyance flickering in them.

“Are you laughing?” he asks, incredulous. 

“I - yeah,” you reply, trying to look past the fact that this is the most he’s said to you in months. “I sometimes laugh when I’m nervous. Sorry.”

“I just … I can’t … how are we-”

“Deep breaths,” you say, both for him and yourself. You set your bag down on the floor and turn to face him. “Deep breaths, see? We’re gonna be fine.”

You’re not sure where this reassurance is coming from. Maybe you’re just trying to soothe your own worries, maybe you’re just trying to keep Jean from spiralling because you know that’ll only stress you out more — either way, you’re trying your best to keep calm, knowing that excessive panic will get you nowhere.

Jean, on the other hand, still looks like he could collapse right in front of you. 

“How do you - how can you be sure?” 

You place a hand on the side of the wall, pressing firmly, and he lets out a yelp of protest. 

“Don’t shake it, Jesus Christ!” 

“I’m not!” you reply, trying desperately to suppress another laugh in spite of everything. You weren’t lying — you really do struggle to keep a straight face in these situations. “I’m just showing you that we’re not moving, it’s not shaking anymore. The safety device must’ve kicked in.”

You let your hand fall back to your side and Jean’s shoulders release just a bit of their tension. 

“Don’t panic,” you follow up, smiling at him. 

A smile, he thinks to himself, how fucking … frustrating. Your grin taunts him even though you don’t mean it to. He really feels like he might be actively dying in this elevator and you’re there, smiling up at him, without a care in the world, not knowing how much he’s thought about that-

“I’m not panicking,” he replies far too quickly. 

“Are you sure?” you ask, intrigued by the boy in front of you, the one who is usually so calm and assured in every other interaction you’ve had with him, “ … it seems like you’re panicking.”

He frowns. “Stop it.”

“I’m not making fun of you!” you object. “Just … observing, I guess.”

“Can you observe a way out of this elevator, then?”

You press your lips into a thin line. 

“Well, hitting the emergency call button could be a good start,” you reply coolly, gesturing to the panel to your left-hand side.

 “Right. Yeah.” Jean huffs. 

Once pressed, the button starts emitting a dial tone that continues for an agonisingly long time. You avoid eye contact with Jean while it rings. 

Finally, a tinny voice emits from the panel, a tired-sounding phone operator droning out a rehearsed speech.

“Hello, Shiganshina Security Services, how may we help you this evening?”

You gesture across to the panel, inviting Jean to speak — he’s the one who pressed it, after all. He rolls his eyes at you but clears his throat without further objection, leaning closer to the speaker.

“Uh … hi. I’m, uh, calling from the … second floor of the Paradis University Library. Well, kinda the first floor, too. I’m trapped in the elevator.”

The operator doesn’t seem phased, continuing on in a monotone voice. “Okay, sir. Have you pressed the ‘open door’ button?”

Jean stills for a moment, closing his eyes to suppress a sigh. 

“No, we’re stuck between floors.”

“‘We’? How many people are in the elevator with you?”

Jean’s eyes flicker over to you, then back to the speaker. “Uh, just two of us. We’re both students here.”

You hear the sound of the operator typing slowly on the other end of the line. “Okay, sir. Are both of you physically safe and well?”

Jean looks at you again and you nod your head.

“Uh, yeah, all good here,” he continues politely. You almost laugh at the fake-calm voice he’s putting on for the operator considering the state he was in just moments ago. “Except for the whole ‘being trapped’ part.”

“I understand, and apologies for the inconvenience,” the operator follows up, clearly finishing off the script. “At this time of night it might take a while longer for responders to reach you, but they have been contacted and we will let you know once they have been dispatched. In the event that you require any further assistance from me, please press the call button again. Due to a system malfunction, the security cameras are currently offline, so all communication will have to be carried out through the intercom.”

“That’s fine,” Jean says flatly. “Do you have, like, a ballpark of when they’ll get here?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Okay,” he concedes, rubbing his eyes with his hands. “Thanks anyway.”

The intercom cuts off with a soft clunk, and the elevator is plunged into complete silence for the first time since you stepped in.

“Well, fuck,” Jean laments. 

His voice is muffled since his face is still in his hands, meaning he most likely isn’t expecting an answer from you. Still, you don’t want to pass up the opportunity to keep him talking — this could almost be classed as a conversation, and you don’t know how long you’ll be here. 

Might as well make some effort at passing the time.

“Do you think they’ll let us go to the resits if we’re stuck in here til tomorrow?” you pipe up, half-jokingly. 

He lifts his head and blinks at you. 

You feel a little defensive. “What?”

“I just … that’s the last thing I’m worrying about right now.” 

He rests his back against one of the walls and tilts his head back, crossing his arms across his chest. 

You open your mouth a few times to speak, unsure of what to say next, eventually settling on, “Jean, if you’re claustrophobic, that’s fine. Just tell me what I can do to help.”

You try to make it sound like it’s not a big deal, because it isn’t — it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You don’t want him to hide it for fear of judgment. Sure, the two of you mightn’t be on the friendliest of terms, but you don’t want him to be in distress over this when you’re more than happy to help. Like … you could do breathing exercises, something like that. You can surely Google something. 

“I’m not claustrophobic,” he mutters, flushing an alarming shade of pink as he does so. “I just … this seems like a death trap.”

“We’re fine,” you reply sincerely, casting him a brief glance to see if your words have any effect; unclear, since Jean’s eyes are now screwed shut, brows knit together as he tries to ground himself.

“This whole thing could just fall,” he points out. “We’re on the second floor, if it dropped now-”

“Remember, they have these in-built safety mechanisms that stop that from happening,” you shoot back quickly. “I feel like the operator would’ve been a bit more worried if they didn’t.”

“Safety protocols were different when these were built,” he says, eyes open now and looking over at you — some small victory. He raps against the wall with his knuckles to punctuate his statement, “which was sometime around the late nineteenth century, by the looks of things.”

You chuckle. “A little dramatic.” 

“Not dramatic,” he counters, “realistic. Plus, there are other ways we could die.”

“Oh, lovely. Do share."

He scoffs at your sarcasm but tells you anyway. “The ventilation isn’t great.”

“There’s only two of us here, Jean. I’m sure we’ll be ok for a couple hours.”

He tips his head as if to acknowledge your point, but carries on with his list nonetheless. 

“A fire. Electrical malfunction, since she said the cameras are down-”

“The cameras are only for security,” you interject, pointing at the sign on the wall which says as much. “And it says there that the wiring was inspected three months ago.”

“And what a stand-up fuckin’ job they did,” he deadpans.

“Ok, I’ll give you that. Still, don’t think electrocution is likely. I don’t think any of that stuff is likely.”

“How are you so calm?” he exclaims, shaking his head. There’s no malice in his words; he seems more incredulous than frustrated. “Even if nothing happens, we could be in here for a long time,”

“You’re right,” you admit. “Should we draw straws to see who gets eaten first?”

A few seconds pass, and then Jean lets out a huff that sounds like a poorly-suppressed laugh. He shakes his head at you again, though his half-smile shows you’ve succeeded at snapping him out of his spiral. 

A breakthrough. 

“Jean, I promise, I am not trying to make fun of you,” you continue with a newfound seriousness. “I swear . I’m not gonna tell anyone about this either, if that’s what you’re so worried about. I just want to help.”

Jean looks a little torn. He worries his lip between his teeth, clearly pondering his options.

“I guess talking helps.”

“Cool, okay,” you agree casually. “Yeah, we can talk.”

Instantly, you regret not thinking this through a little better. What can you even talk about?

Obviously, you have questions about the past few months, but now probably isn’t the best time to interrogate him about it — he was about to faint just a moment ago, after all.

You try racking your brain for a topic of conversation. Sports? School? Your friends? It all sounds too … forced, considering how things were left off between you. It’s hard to pretend that nothing happened. How can you talk about anything without bringing up the elephant in the room?

Oh god. The silence is enveloping you. 

Jean is no help at all. You see him from the corner of your eye; he’s just staring at you, waiting for you to come up with something. 

Desperate, you meet his gaze, and in spite of everything, he cracks a small grin.

“Well, now you look like the one who’s shitting it.”

You scoff defensively, face heating against your will. “I do not. ”

“Oh please, ” he retorts, derisive but still entertained. “You look more stressed now than when we almost died.”

“We didn’t almost die,” you let out a weary sigh, “and I’m not stressed.” 

“Am I that hard to talk to, huh?”

“What?” you frown. “No, why would you think that?”

He suddenly looks a bit embarrassed.

“I was joking,” he mumbles. “Wasn’t a good one though. Sorry.”

You nod, ready to leave it at that, but Jean isn’t on the same page.

“That was a stupid joke to make, I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“It’s okay,” you say, taken aback at the sudden change in demeanour. “I mean … we’re talking now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, a faint hint of solemnity in his voice. 

More silence. 

You fidget as you stand, dreading the next fact that the next few hours could be as awkward as this. 

Just as you’re about to slip your phone out of your pocket to start passing the time, Jean mercifully breaks the silence. 

“Want some food?” he blurts out, shrugging his backpack off his shoulder. “I’ve got some chocolate in my bag.”

“You’re hungry?”

“Starving. I usually have some pizza when I get home after the library, but it looks like that’s not happening for a while.”

“Oh my god, yes , me too,” you agree, grateful for the tension being lifted. “Although I only have half a protein bar to offer, if that hurts my bargaining power?”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t. Wanna … should we sit down? Could be here a while, y’know.”

You both shrug off your jackets and lay them on the elevator floor, sitting down and shifting until you’re positioned cross-legged. 

You rifle through your bag, fishing out the protein bar, a single can of energy drink, and some mints you’d forgotten about earlier in the week. You also lay out your little bottle of hand sanitizer to use before and after eating. 

Jean pulls out a big bar of chocolate, two cans of iced mocha (you side-eye him teasingly when those come out, since you know that brand isn't cheap), along with a bag of pretzels you recognise as coming from one of the library vending machines. 

You slide him the energy drink, eying up one of the coffees which he hands to you without question. You crack open the can and take a sip, letting out a sigh of satisfaction.

“Aren’t you worried it's a bit too soon to pool our rations like this?” you question light-heartedly. 

He waves off your concern. “You said we’re gonna be fine though, right?”

He holds his can out to you and you look at it, confused, until you realise what he’s doing. You hold out your own and cheer them together. 

Jean must be feeling pretty guilty about that joke, but you don’t overthink it. This temporary truce is fine by you either way. 

His change in disposition is welcome. He’s calmer now, and able to joke about the situation. The stress has left his face almost entirely. 

Maybe now is the time …

“So,” you begin cordially. “How’s the semester been?”

“Busy,” he replies, tearing open the wrapper of the chocolate bar. “Heavy courseload, plus I submitted the application for grad school. That, along with swim practice, my job, plus social stuff, y’know, a few parties-”

You both dutifully pretend that you weren’t also attending the exact same parties.

“It’s been a lot,” he finishes, taking a bite of the chocolate. He holds it out to you and you break off a piece, popping it into your mouth to distract from the sudden, inexplicably heavy feeling creeping up your chest. 

“How about you?” he asks, hands resting on his knees. “How have things been with you?”

It feels weird to be chatting like this, but in the spirit of civility, you start to regale him of the past few months’ events. You tell him about your internship over the summer that’s keeping you in Paradis — he congratulates you, and the part of you that’s still trying to be mad at him gets less and less vocal. 

You tell him how you’ve been balancing work and study, what it’s like living with Annie and Porco. You tell him about how tough it is knowing that life after graduation is so uncertain. 

“And, y’know, I’ve been to a few parties too,” you state nonchalantly, but the flush on Jean’s cheekbones shows that he’s picked up on your meaning. 

He opens his mouth as if to come up with some reasoning for it all. 

“I- uh-”

Seeing him try to concoct an excuse … months of pent-up frustration hits you all at once. 

“Jean, why haven’t you been talking to me?” you interrupt. It bursts out like a dam breaking, and with it comes a hint of hurt in your voice; hurt at being kept in the dark, at being ignored, at being left so confused for so long. “For months . Did I do something wrong?”

Jean closes his mouth as you close yours, abandoning whatever excuse he had been coming up with. He looks down at his hands - either thinking things over or just buying time, you’re not sure - and he takes a moment, eyes trailing over the linoleum flooring beneath you.

He straightens up then, his shoulders and his expression guarded. He’s defensive, and you know it’s because he’s about to tell you the truth. 

“You really want to know?” he asks, though the question doesn’t sound hostile. It’s delivered plainly. You know he won’t be brutal in his answer, just honest. 

You nod shortly. Even if the answer isn’t easy to hear, you need to know.

He takes a few breaths, chest rising and falling slowly, and then speaks the words you weren’t expecting to hear.

“I guess it was a mixture of things.”

“Of what?”

“Of my pride being hurt. And … self-preservation.”

He says the words softly, beseechingly, with far less hostility than you were expecting. He doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated, almost as if this is a decision he accepted long ago. 

Hurt … what? Self-preservation? What is he talking about?

The shocked look on your face must read as you being appalled because he follows up hastily.

“I never spoke badly about you,” he says, but this does little to help your confusion.

“I know.”

“I just felt a bit … it kinda … it stung , I guess.”

The words settle over you slowly. You lean forward, elbows resting against your knees as you try to piece things together.

“What stung?” you query when nothing comes to mind. “Jean … what did I do ?”

He breathes out the softest laugh, tilting his head to the side as he asks, “you really want me to explain?”

“I need you to explain,” you plead. 

And with that, he finally puts you out of your misery. 

“You remember that night when we slept together? At your place, after exams?” 

You nod, feeling warm for reasons you don’t quite understand. 

He continues, “and you know after we … finished? When I was about to leave”

“Yeah?”

“It kinda … I don’t know …”

“Did I say something? Do something?”

His cheeks flush red. 

“It bummed me out that you were so embarrassed about it, I guess,” he says, voice steady but you can hear the hurt buried in it. “You couldn’t wait to get me out of there. Like you were so ashamed about it, we weren’t even finished five minutes and you wanted megone. Like the worst possible thing for you would be if our friends found out.”

Oh.

That - oh. 

You try to think of an explanation but none comes to you.

“I-“

“And it doesn’t make you a bad person. It was just a hook-up, I know that,” he carries on, mercifully picking up on the fact you had no idea what you were going to say when you opened your mouth. “It just didn’t feel great, is all.”

You feel the guilt hit you, coupled with the shame of having not realised it sooner.

Sure, Jean giving you the silent treatment mightn’t have been the most mature way of handling things, but … you had kicked him out in the middle of the night, reasoning that a guy as popular and confident and effortlessly fucking good at everything wouldn’t even blink twice at it. But that was a snap judgment based on your own biases, and you hadn’t even considered how your words could be interpreted. 

“But that’s not the only reason I kept my distance,” he says, fidgeting with his hands. 

His candour is admirable, really, considering you still haven’t said anything to him. 

You’re too overwhelmed to even theorise about what he means by self-preservation. 

“What other reason?” you ask, your voice sounding not like your own. 

Any moment now, you expect Jean to tap out, to laugh things off, to go back to joking around and pretending this never happened.

He doesn’t.

“I thought it would, uh, I thought it would make … certain things … a bit easier to handle.”

You push gently. “Certain things?”

“Need me to be specific?

“Yeah.”

And he doesn’t even have to think before answering.

“Oh, well, specifically speaking — the giant fucking crush I’ve had on you for months now.”

This silence is far greater than any you’d experienced before. This is the type of silence that isn’t measured by time - if anything, it lasts only a few seconds - but by weight, in that it wraps around you both completely, both of you stunned at his admission.

The air feels thick, congested. Maybe Jean’s right, maybe you are running out of oxygen -

“ … please say something,” he pipes up then, self-consciousness leaching into his voice. “Please . I know it’s not tough or suave to beg, but please, say something. Anything.”

You open your mouth to speak.

“Months ?”

“Months,” he confirms, still on edge. 

You blink, the cogs in your mind turning furiously. “Since … when?”

“Since we met at that football game,” he replies matter-of-fact, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Since day one. And then that night at the party … god, it took me hours to work up the courage to talk to you.”

It feels unrealistic to imagine Jean Kirstein being anxious about anything , and so the idea of him being nervous to talk to you at a party is incomprehensible. 

His jaw tightens as he swallows thickly. If your head wasn’t spinning at a thousand miles an hour, you’d lean over and reassure him, maybe rest your hand on his, but your mind isn’t letting you get that far. 

It’s just … a crush? You knew there was some attraction between you - the hook-up would’ve been a bit awkward if there wasn’t - but a crush implies a desire for something deeper than just sex or friendship. Something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

… you think.  

Looking back to the first time you met him, you see the image of yourself again, staring up at Jean with bemusement as you realised just how likeable he was. And then again at the party, when you felt yourself being drawn in, caught up in a conversation and laughing with him and then you were kissing him and having him so close …

And then you shut it down before you could get hurt. 

Jean mightn’t have handled things the best way, but at least he knew what he felt. Would you have let yourself feel it if you hadn’t dismissed it so early on?

“I’m not telling you this to make you feel shitty,  I promise. I’m not trying to guilt you into doing anything,” Jean says, and you believe him. “I just wanted to explain my reasoning, weird as it may be. I saw you weren’t the commitment type, and figured it would be best if we kept things at a distance.”

Your lips part without you realising. 

“Wow, you really are a romantic, aren’t you?”

It just slips out — you kick yourself for it immediately, but your remark makes him burst out into laughter, providing some welcome levity to cut through the tension. 

“Could you wait a few minutes before giving me shit about this?” he jokes, “y’know, until after we’re finished with the emotional vulnerability?”

“I guess,” you shrug. “Could be difficult, though.”

“I appreciate the self-control.”

Trying to think about what you want to say next, only one thing comes to mind. 

“... I’m really sorry, Jean.”

You don’t even consider how your words might be interpreted until you see his expression turn crestfallen, his smile fading despite his best efforts. 

Oh no -

“Wait!” you say before he jumps to any conclusions. “No, I didn’t mean it like that! I didn’t mean it as ‘I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same way’ … it wasn’t that kind of apology.”

His disappointment is replaced with cautious confusion. “Then what are you apologising for?”

You start to clarify, thankfully sounding more articulate this time around. 

“I meant … I’m sorry for kicking you out that night.” 

A shallow breath follows. 

Jean stays listening intently, not moving much. It’s almost as if he’s scared of startling you, like someone regarding a frightened rabbit — which, you suppose, is accurate. This is unchartered territory for you. 

“And I’m sorry for acting like I was embarrassed. It was shitty of me, even if it was just a one-night stand. I could have gone about it a bit more tactfully. I wasn’t embarrassed then. I’m not embarrassed now.” 

The faintest smile appears on Jean’s face, so small you might have missed it were your eyes not trained on his so intently. 

“It’s okay,” he says, quiet but clear. “And I’m sorry, too, for pouting about things for far too long.”

“Pouting is a little harsh.”

“Nah, I deserve it. I was a baby.”

“… a little. But still harsh.” 

You both chuckle for a moment, and when the laughter stops, you shuffle a few inches closer. 

“We’re okay?” you ask carefully. 

“We’re okay,” he replies, fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. His throat bobs. 

Knowing he’s still so obviously nervous, so vulnerable with you … a feeling of fondness surges through you like it did those times before; only this time, no part of you wants to stop it.

You’re hit with a realisation, something you’ve suppressed for a while — similar to Jean, your self-preservation seems to have gotten in the way. It’s new and it’s a little scary, but you want to tell him. 

So you do. 

“I like you too, Jean.”

The smile that forms on his face is so hopeful and warm that it makes your already-quivering heart skip a beat or two. 

You clear your throat. “And I think I have for a while now. Just … this is all pretty new to me.”

“And me. It’s new to me too.”

Huh. You hadn’t thought about that. You’ve never heard of Jean having a relationship that lasted more than a couple dates — maybe you’ve even more in common than you once thought. 

In a very weird way, it’s reassuring. You’ll both be in this together. 

“We can just take it slow, see how things go,” he says, clearly wary of the fact you might need to talk this through a little more. 

“Like how?”

Another grin. “Well, going on a date would be a great start.”

“Is this not a date?” you ask teasingly, gesturing to the remnants of the picnic before you. 

“Ugh, no,” he says with a wince. “How would it sound if I told people our first date was a half-assed picnic in a metal box?” 

You hesitate, and he knows why. 

“We’re telling people?” you ask, casually as you can. 

“Only if you want,” he replies quickly, almost as though he’s considered this before. “Not right away, obviously. But if things go well … and I think they will,” - you feel heat creep up your neck again - “it’ll be kind of hard to keep it a secret.”

Strangely, the thought doesn’t terrify you as much as you expected it would. It actually seems almost … nice. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he asks, eyes widening. 

“Okay. Yes to all of it.”

Relief seems to flood through him at once — floods through you both. The softness with which he looks at you makes your heart melt. 

“This was a hell of a good way to forget about being trapped in an elevator, huh?” you say, ignoring how your voice trembles still (not with fear, but with relief). 

He smiles. “Trapped here for eternity, I think.”

“Any ideas on how to pass the time?” 

You don’t mean it suggestively - you don’t think , anyway - but you feel a shiver run through you when his eyes flicker up to the ceiling of the elevator. Your gaze follows his, seeing how it lingers on the inactive security cameras. 

“Maybe we can think of something to do,” you point out almost innocently. You sit up on your haunches, and definitely don’t miss the way his eyes skim your form before glancing back up to your face. “No security cameras, remember?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, breathless but certain as he mimics your movements, inching closer to you as he does so. 

It’s a little clumsy the way you push the bags, jackets and snacks out of the way, shuffling over to reach him, but soon you’ve closed the space between you, within touching distance of him for the first time in so long.

Without waiting a moment further, you fist your hands into the soft fabric of his sweatshirt, using it as leverage as you move to straddle him. He’s so close that you can feel his shaky breathing against your lips, his eyes fixed on your mouth. 

“You’re not gonna kick me out this time?” he says softly, teasingly.

“I don’t plan on it.”

And with that, you kiss him. 

The feeling of his lips moving against yours knocks the air from your chest, a sensation you hadn’t realised you’d been missing. It feels different this time; it’s slower, more languid, but still passionate. Now, you can take your time to figure things out together.

You start to pick up on the things he likes; the way a groan catches in his throat when you nip at his lower lip, the way he leans in closer whenever you run a hand up his arm and the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair.

His hands come to grab you by the waist, handling you gently but assuredly, every movement carried out to bring you closer to him. 

You start to regret the fact you could have been doing this all along - all those months spent giving each other the silent treatment, where you could have been doing this instead - but those thoughts are interrupted when Jean’s lips meet your neck, nipping and suckling on the skin by your pulse point. 

His hands move from your waist to cup your ass; while he’s still gentle with you, you’re amazed by the strength in those hands. You imagine them running all over you, stroking through your hair and down your neck, pinching the sensitive areas where you desperately want to feel his touch. 

The knot of anticipation in your stomach is so intense it’s almost burning, the pulsing in your clit driving you to the point of distraction. 

The two of you are unable to take more than a few breaths before eagerly bringing your lips together again, the crackling of anticipation and arousal coursing through your veins.

This build-up can only continue for so long before you’re both nearly whining with desperation, and you signify your wish to move things forward by tugging on the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head.

“Can I touch you?” he asks and you nod, allowing him to help pull your shirt off before taking off his own, then tugging your skirt up so it’s bunched against your hips as you straddle him closer. 

Long gone is any concern surrounding the fact that the two of you are technically in public. The slower pace from earlier has been forfeited, too. You're so full of want and need and a sense of overwhelming arousal that all you can focus on is hearing more of those desperate little noises that catch in his throat. 

You unbutton his pants, tugging them down just enough for you to slip a hand past the waistband of his underwear to pull out his cock. 

He hisses through his teeth when he feels you palm his erection; you give a few cursory touches at first but soon grow captivated by his reaction, stroking him in earnest as he whispers sweet words of praise. 

Not content for the pleasure to be solely his own, he pulls your underwear to the side and, feeling how soaked you are, sinks two fingers inside at once. 

First it’s careful, consistent movement with his fingers, designed to open you up and get you ready for what’s next — his thumb starts to rub against your clit and your thighs shake, quivering against him as you try to keep your own hand moving steadily on his cock. 

You lean in to kiss his neck, whispering into his ear; “can’t wait to feel this in-”

“Wait, wait,” he says gently, and you halt your movements at once, pulling your head back. He looks up at you then, slowing down what he’s doing with his own hand. “I want to - I want to be inside you so bad, but I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on birth control,” you whisper. “And I’m clean — got a checkup recently.” 

“Clean, too,” Jean says breathlessly. “There hasn’t - my last test was a few weeks before we slept together, and there hasn’t been anyone else since then. Nobody else.” 

“Okay, then,” you say, your mind having been made up without you even realising. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“Fuck, yes, please.”

You start to grind against his length, feeling his tip nudge against your clit in a way that makes you see stars, the wetness and friction so utterly delicious. You take a second to line him up to your entrance - Jean’s hips stuttering with the need to push inside you as the tip sinks in just a few milimetres - and you rest your hands on his broad shoulders to support yourself.

He looks so pretty, his kiss-slick lips the loveliest shade of pink, and you can’t help but bring his mouth to yours as the sensation of his cock dragging against your wet folds draws groans from both of you. 

He’s so aroused it hurts; you can tell as much from the way he’s biting down on his lip between kisses and tensing the muscles in his arms … 

“Please ride me,” he begs, cheeks flushed, “I need - I need to fuck you. Please.”

You don’t feel like denying him any longer, not when he’s been so good to you. He looks so lovely like this. It deserves a reward.

You’re in control, easing Jean’s cock into you slowly as you brace yourself against his shoulders. Adjusting your hips to accommodate him, you feel him slip inside, inch by inch, his moans responding in kind. You’re so wet that it helps the stretch but you feel it nonetheless; it’s a pleasant sensation, though, making you grind down instinctively to get as much of him as possible. 

You shift your thighs until you’re fully seated on his cock, hips flush against his, Jean’s expression a mix of pleasure and pain as he struggles to keep from grabbing your waist and thrusting up into you. 

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters, eyes scanning over you like he can’t decide where he wants to look — ultimately, he chooses your face, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as you give him a lazy grin, already feeling more fucked-out than you arguably should. 

You start to rock back and forth, rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Jean’s hips start to jerk upwards, trying to match your movements as he feels you spasm and tighten around him.

You trail your fingernails along the nape of his neck, feeling the soft tresses of his hair, pressing your forehead against his, now with a thin sheen of sweat. 

“Oh, that’s so good ,” he slurs, “so good, want you so bad. Always wanted you - f-fucking hell- you’re so tight and warm.”

You kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth as he eagerly reciprocates. A sudden burst of pleasure hits you as he strokes your clit with his fingers; it’s so strong you pull back with a gasp. 

“Been thinking about this for so long,” he says, pressing a kiss against your collarbone. 

“Since the last time you fucked me like this?” you tease. 

That lopsided grin you love so much appears once again. “You know I’ve wanted to do this way longer than that.”

“How long?”

“You know-”

“But I wanna hear you say it,” you complain, almost petulantly. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Since the moment I saw you,” he replies, obliging your request (though not entirely selflessly - he knows that by talking like this he’ll make you feel good , and when you feel good you tighten around him, trembling, squeezing just right …)

“I - fuck - I’ve always thought you were so fucking pretty,” he continues. “When Annie introduced us … I wished it was just you and me there, because then maybe we could’ve been doing this a lot sooner. For months, I’ve wanted to make you come over and over again …” 

It’s messy, the confined space meaning you can’t ignore the sounds of your wet cunt grinding against him. You’re so wet that it’s coating your thighs, cool air hitting damp skin and making you shiver. 

“Jean, don’t stop, please .”

He lets out a breathless chuckle, a hand slipping up from your waist to rest against the back of your neck, pulling your head closer so he can whisper something. 

“If you think I want to stop,”he murmurs into the shell of your ear, his breath hot as it hits your skin, “when I’ve spent months rubbing myself fucking raw at the thought of doing this again, at the thought of that pretty little mouth hanging open for me, at the thought of getting to just touch you…”

His cock throbs and you can feel it, his thighs tensing as you ride him. 

“Not gonna stop,” he assures you, his low vocalisations of pleasure washing over you blissfully. 

You lift a hand and rest it against the wall of the elevator to steady yourself; your hand slips a little against the cold metal but offers some leverage for you to bounce quicker, harder, chasing your finish as you watch him approach his. 

This angle, this pace, this intensity; it’s enough for your vision to blur, hitting parts of you that you hadn’t touched before, making your thighs feel weak as you rise and fall more shakily now. You start moving your hips in the shape of an eight, groaning in surprise at the new sensations. 

A ball of heat gathers in your core, growing and growing. This feels so surreal and yet you can feel everything so intensely, every time his skin grazes yours, every kiss, every time his tongue ghosts over your lips and neck. 

He looks completely wrecked. When your hips speed up, he can just about mumble, “fucking hell, if you keep doing that you’re gonna make me come. ”

You take his words as a challenge, keeping the figure-eight motion as he groans beautifully underneath you. 

His eyes widen, biting down on his lip before he throws his head back. 

“Coming, coming, fuck ,” he repeats over and over, pulling you down so he can sink in as deep as possible. You inhale sharply, feeling everything as he comes deep inside you — it’s enough to make you join him. 

It hits you at once, the heat radiating out from your core and hitting every nerve in your body. It’s so warm; ripples of unending pleasure wash over you again and again, bathing you completely in its glow as you mumble incoherencies against Jean’s kiss-swollen lips. 

It pulses through you, throbbing against his cock and it takes some time to come down from it — even then, you still feel the aftershocks as he pulls out. Pliant and boneless, you can only just about find the strength to adjust your clothes back in place before nestling back on his lap, resting your head against his chest. 

Once you’ve taken a few moments to process everything, laughing in disbelief as you make yourselves presentable again, you feel this incredible sense of relief. A weight has been lifted from your shoulders, one that you hadn’t even realised you’d been holding. 

The rest of the wait passes quickly - you talk, laugh, kiss away the minutes - and it’s only when you hear a loud knocking from above that you remember where you are. 

“Hello?” someone calls out from the other side of the wall, a few feet above your head. “Maintenance here. Everything okay with you both?”

“All good!” you reply, a little self-conscious even though you and Jean are fully clothed. You look at him and his grin threatens your poker face, so you glance upwards. “Is it nearly fixed?”

“We should have you out in about twenty minutes,” the voice shouts down. 

Jean exhales in relief; while his nerves had certainly abated over the last few hours, there was clearly some part of him that felt lingering concern about plunging to an early death. 

He takes your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. You move to sit down alongside him, leaning your head against his shoulder to savour the last few minutes of peace before you head back into the real world — the world where there is so much stress from study and exams and jobs, and gossipy people who’ll almost certainly talk about this unexpected pairing. 

But feeling the warmth of his hand cupping your own with so much tenderness you could cry, you can’t bring yourself to care much about all of that. 

Twenty minutes pass and the repairman’s words prove true; the elevator shakes to a start and slowly but surely rises to the second floor. You stand up, legs having gone a little stiff (from sitting down in a confined space, and from …other things). 

Collecting your belongings, you glance over at Jean - one last check to see if he’s sure about all this - and he shoots a look so reassuring and genuine that you think you’ll never have to ask a question like that again. 

You leave the elevator and thank the repairman, who looks a little apologetic about the delay it took to get there (little does he know how grateful you are for it). 

You smooth down your clothes with your hands, make sure you have all of your things, and softly sigh when you see the golden streaks of the sunrise through the window. 

“What’s the plan now?” 

“Well, I have an exam in …” he looks at his watch, “less than 6 hours, shit, so I should probably head home.” He pauses, looking thoughtful. “But I’ll call you later. And when we finish up on Friday, do you want to go out for something to eat? To celebrate?”

“A second date?”

He scoffs fondly. “Fine, our second date.”

“Sounds amazing,” you reply, and the two of you set off down the stairs hand-in-hand. 

You’re delighted to find that you have a very, very good feeling about this.

[sluttyten]

#25, #37 and #181 for Jungwoo or Jaehyun ❤️‍🔥

Jungwoo or Jaehyun + “shit, i forgot just how tight you are.” + meeting them at a house party and sneaking off to fuck them in the bathroom. + you being their best friend’s younger sibling.

When your brother Mark met his best friend, when he moved in with him, you thought for sure you’d cracked it and that your brother was gay and his best friend was his secret boyfriend. They were constantly together--going on trips, going out to dinner, going shopping together--so it wasn’t like it was a crazy leap in logic. But then one night, Mark was out of town, you needed a place to stay, so he told you to go stay at his place. 

Neither you or Jungwoo ever admitted to Mark the truth of that night. How you’d been sitting on the sofa with Jungwoo, venting to him, and when you’d mentioned in an offhand way how he was your brother’s boyfriend (like, obviously), Jungwoo paused and looked at you with the most adorably confused look on his face.

“I’m not his boyfriend. We’re honest to God just friends.” He holds his hand over his heart. “I’m into you, not Mark.”

In the space after those words, your entire worldview rearranged. You looked at Jungwoo, at the way he was looking at you, leaned towards you in comfortable casualness, and you realized that yeah, you could be into him too.

He fucked you right there on that sofa that night, and again in the shower the next morning, and before you left for the day, you made it clear to Jungwoo that sleeping with him meant nothing more than that you found him attractive too. You didn’t want your brother to know, and you didn’t plan to let it happen again. It had been perhaps a lapse in judgement to have sex with your brother’s best friend.

Weeks go by, and then months. You and Jungwoo are perfectly normal around each other, not letting that night interfere in any way. And then Mark throws a housewarming party when he and Jungwoo move out of their cramped apartment and start renting a house together with a few other friends. 

It’s the kind of housewarming that your other family members aren’t invited to. It feels more like a frat party than a housewarming.

There’s people everywhere. All over the lawn, filling every inch of the house you’d just helped your brother move his furniture into. You recognize a few of them as close friends of your brother that you’ve met before, but for the most part, you don’t know these people. You assume many of them are friends of the friends he’s moved in with, but you don’t even know any of those people other than Jungwoo.

So, you do your best to make new friends.

You meet a few lovely people before you finally meet Jaehyun. 

He seems nice, very friendly and handsome. You meet him over a tray of snacks you just know your brother sat out, and you start talking to him, small talk that quickly takes a turn when you both realize a mutual interest. That conversation carries you away from the snacks to standing outside, and once you’ve made it outside, you realize that someone’s set up a game of beer pong.

“Jae!” The guy at one end of the table calls as soon as he spots Jaehyun. “We need someone to play against!”

Jaehyun looks at you. “Want to be my partner?”

You hate the idea of leaving his side, knowing that if you do, some other girl that’s been eyeing him all night would quickly sweep in to try to fill your spot. 

So, it’s possibly one of the best decisions you’ve made yet that night to be his partner for beer pong because you win, and in the joy of victory, Jaehyun sweeps you into a hug and promises you that he owes you a prize. He quickly makes it clear that that prize is a fresh drink that’s not beer with a ball floating in it.

You could care less about getting another drink, but you go along with him as Jaehyun attempts to swim through the crowd of people that have gathered for this party now. You cling to his arm (his bare, well-chiseled biceps), and you never let your eyes leave the sight of his head (a backwards hat resting on his long black hair). 

When Jaehyun finds the way to the kitchen almost impossible to pass through due to it being a small room filled with alcohol and too many people trying to drink that alcohol, he sighs and stops, leaning against the wall and tugging you close to avoid you getting knocked into by the people passing behind you.

“Well, there goes my planned prize for you,” Jaehyun sighs, looking at you with this look that swells a hope inside you. “Guess I should treat you with something else.”

“I have an idea,” you venture, pressing forward a little more, letting your hand slide up his arm. “If you’re interested, you could be my prize, and I’ll be yours.”

“I’ll take that. Gladly.” Jaehyun’s gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips.

Before either of you can back down, decide that maybe you’re too buzzed to make a solid decision right now, you grab his hand and pull him away from the mass of people waiting to get inside the kitchen. You lead him upstairs, heading right for the bathroom you know is at the end of the hallway beside one of Mark’s housemate’s rooms.

You think you hear someone call your name downstairs, but over the music, it’s difficult to tell, and you refuse to let yourself be distracted away from Jaehyun.

You pull him inside the bathroom. Jaehyun closes the door behind him, and as soon as he’s turned to face you again, you all but launch yourself at him. 

Jaehyun’s teeth clack against yours. His warm fingers dig into your ass and thighs, and you clutch desperately at Jaehyun’s face, holding his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss as he stumbles deeper inside the bathroom with you. You feel the plasticky brush of the shower curtain, and then your back hits cool tile. 

Jaehyun has you against the shower wall, the scent of body wash filling your nose, and your moan echoes off the tile when Jaehyun slips his hand inside your panties. His fingers are expert, skilled at getting you off, toying with your clit and then he’s two fingers deep, rubbing your clit now as well as stimulating you from the inside. 

“Told you I’d give you a prize. You gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Gonna cum on my fingers?” Jaehyun kisses his words against your throat, and then he closes his lips around a sensitive spot and sucks.

Not that you want Jaehyun to know, but it’s been months since the last time you had sex, since the last time you orgasmed, so as the climax hits right now, your vision goes white, and your senses are overwhelmed on every side.

The volume in the room increases to a dull roar in your ears, and your fingers dig into Jaehyun’s shoulders, your body arching as he keeps going, pushing your orgasm to last longer and longer on his fingers. You moan his name softly between gasps, like an ecstatic prayer.

Your eyes flutter open, and you realize that the volume in the room isn’t just the buzz of pleasure and the pounding of your heartbeat anymore.

The dull roar of the party cuts out significantly when Jungwoo shuts the door behind him. Jaehyun’s head snaps up from where he’s been trying to leave his mark on your throat. Jungwoo clears his throat, “Don’t mind me, Jae, I just came up for a piss. But you should probably know that’s our housemate’s sister you’re fingering.”

Housemate? Jaehyun’s one of Mark’s new housemates? Shit, you drop your head back, in disbelief that you’ve done this again, fucking with your brother’s friend.

“Shit,” Jaehyun whispers quietly against your skin. “I thought you looked kinda familiar.”

“She has a thing for fucking her brother’s best friends.” Jungwoo turns his back on the pair of you, and you realize that he genuinely is using the toilet right now. Unbelievable. He couldn’t have just walked out to use one of the other two bathrooms in this house when he saw that this one was occupied?

“Jealous, Jungwoo?” You push lightly at Jaehyun’s shoulders until he steps back, freeing up enough space for you to straighten your clothes. “It’s not a good look on you.”

Jungwoo laughs. “Why would I be jealous? We had sex one night, and never spoke about it again.”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t want it to happen again.” You walk up right behind him. “Do you think I haven’t caught you looking at me?”

Jungwoo turns to face you. “What about you looking at me? Have you not spent any lonely nights since then thinking of me? Remembering the way I touched you, how it felt when you fell apart for me?”

Jaehyun clears his throat. “I’m still standing right here, you know. If you’re gonna have this weird moment, at least let me leave.” He starts to step around you, to squeeze by both you and Jungwoo, but you reach out to touch his arm.

“Don’t go. I want you to stay. You’re the one I brought in here. Not Jungwoo.” You squeeze Jaehyun’s wrist. 

“Maybe you two just need to fuck it out of each other again,” Jaehyun recommends. “Don’t let me get in the way of that.”

You don’t let go of his wrist even when he tugs, instead you hold tighter. Something he said gave you an idea. “Don’t go. I don’t want you to be in the way, Jaehyun. What if, and either of you can say no, but what if we all got what we wanted?”

You know for a fact it would be the end of you if Mark ever learned that you’d had sex with not just one of his bestfriends, and not even just that you had sex with two of his best friends, but the fact that you had sex with two of them at the same time in the bathroom of the house he’s renting with said best friends, yeah, you would be over if he knew.

So you definitely don’t let risk letting him find out.

This time you lock the door. You don’t want anyone walking in when you’re leaning your elbows on the low countertop of the sink in that bathroom, blowing Jungwoo with your panties around your ankles while Jaehyun fucks you. You don’t want anyone to walk in when Jaehyun pulls you back up against his chest, when Jungwoo steps closer and edges his fingers in alongside Jaehyun’s cock.

Something about the coordinated way that they move with each other, the way neither voices a complaint as Jungwoo stretches your pussy around him and Jaehyun’s cocks, something about that strikes you as odd. Not premeditated necessarily, just practiced, like maybe they’ve fucked a girl together before.

If you thought your orgasm on just Jaehyun’s fingers after so long without sex was amazing, then the orgasm you experience on both of their cocks is world-ending. You feel yourself breaking apart at the edges, the pleasure going and going as they neither one stop when they feel you cumming around them. 

Jungwoo kisses you even when your head falls back against Jaehyun’s shoulder, tasting the pathetic whimpers and pleas of more that spill from your lips. Jaehyun snaps his hips forwards harder, driving himself closer and closer to his own orgasm. The feel of his cock pulsing inside you, shooting his load inside you, is enough to have you cumming again.

Jaehyun pulls out, but he stays right there beside you, his chest against your back, his arms around you, holding you up as Jungwoo keeps fucking you. You’re sensitive now, so sensitive and it hurts but it feels so good, and you keep clenching around Jungwoo. 

“Shit, baby,” Jungwoo hisses and groans. “I forgot just how tight you are. I’ve missed you. Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

You feel like a white hot star on the verge of collapse by the time that Jungwoo cums, his fingers twitching over your clit just to draw a final orgasm from you. This is all much more than you’ve felt in a long time, or possibly more than you’ve ever felt. 

Jaehyun supports you against his chest as Jungwoo steps back. Your legs feel useless when your feet touch the floor, and you have Jaehyun to thank for you not completely collapsing. He holds you, slowly leaning back against the wall and sinking even more slowly to the floor with you. You feel like you could never move again and be perfectly happy. 

“I’ve got her, she’s fine,” you hear Jaehyun say. “Go back out to the party. I can help her clean up, can get her to bed. Should I put her in Mark’s room?”

“No,” you murmur, “Put me in Jungwoo’s bed. Mark wouldn’t think that’s weird for me to be there.”

Jaehyun goes a little stiff at the idea of leaving you in another guy’s bed, but you hear the silent agreement between the two. They won’t talk about this outside of here. They won’t let this fuck up a friendship--either the one between them, or the one with Mark. Jaehyun will help you into Jungwoo’s bed tonight, but that doesn’t mean he won’t hope to have you in his on some other night.

And after Jungwoo leaves the bathroom, after you’ve regained some desire to get up off this bathroom floor,  you makeout with Jaehyun in the shower while you both clean up. You sneak out of the bathroom and down the hall to Jungwoo’s room beside your brother’s, and when you climb in between the covers and bury your face in the pillow that smells just like Jungwoo, Jaehyun slides in beside you.

“I really like you,” he tells you. “I know we’ve only known each other for a couple hours now, but I really like you.” 

“I like you a lot too,” you admit. You place a hand lightly on his cheek, drawing Jaehyun into a kiss. 

Jungwoo finds you like that a bit later when he comes to bed; you and Jaehyun asleep in each other’s arms in his bed, and his heart breaks a little knowing that this is something he could have had if he would’ve just fought a little harder a few months ago to make his feelings known to you. He should’ve made a move before tonight, sometime after that night you’d spent with him months ago. But he was scared of what your brother might think.

That’s why he’d come upstairs tonight. He’d seen you walking upstairs, and by the time Jungwoo navigated his way through the crowd and extricated himself from clinging hands trying to drag him in for a drink, he’d followed you upstairs only to find you getting fingered by Jaehyun.

He’s still standing there beside his own bed, looking at you two, when you stir. 

“Jungwoo?” You ask, stretching out a hand to him. “Come to bed.”

The feel of your palm sliding against his, lightly pulling him to join you, that is almost more exhilarating that what happened earlier in the evening. Because you might be cuddling with Jaehyun, but you clearly want him there too, and Jungwoo doesn’t entirely understand what any of this means, but if he can have this moment with you and a million more like it, he doesn’t think he really minds what it means to share you with Jaehyun. 

requests are now closed! Thank you to everyone that sent your requests/prompts in, I really enjoyed writing these drabbles!

[chanluster]

10/10 | {m} ; {c} ; {f}

oneshot | friends with benefits! au | 18.7k words

“Because what you feel for your best friend cannot be described in words, but in numbers.”

s u m m a r y > > you and bang chan had no secrets between one other. each detail of your life would be discussed with your best friend of forever, no matter how insignificant it may be, through a little system you both had concocted — through a small rating. a number out of ten. a simple concept, used from being a child and rating your cookie a solid eight out of ten to your later years in high school, giving your first kiss a measly five. however, when you confess an average rating of your sex life in one hazy evening, chan decides this dilemma cannot be solved with buying you consolation cookies. he must simply raise that rating, all by himself.

w a r n i n g s > > friends to lovers! au, college! au, music! major chan, music! major reader, you both are literally soulmates, came out the womb holding hands, so much teasing, sexual! tension! chan has a massive fucking cock (i mean isn’t it obvious already), shit loads of making out, aggression, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!!), kinda hate sex, orgasming left and right, ex! hyunjin, who’s also really bad at sex lmfaoaoao sorry king, chan is hella soft dom at the start but goes !!! hella hard later!!!! (i mean idk but) shit ton of fluff, friend! jisung which chan gets soooo jealous of, reader is so fucking annoyin, teensy weensy bit of angst, and yeh basically me venting out my love for chan once again

p l a y l i s t > > here!

a u t h o r ’ s n o t e > > this is dedicated to my dear friend chloe, boo i love u so much and thank you for that insane prompt :( also help this feels so rushed to me at the end but i hope y’all do enjoy <3

t a g l i s t > > @hanflix @thatonepieceofpineapple @kimkailover @decembermoonskz @smilesohwas @missskzbiased @illicit-roses @embroideredstarz @freckledquokka @moonluvbunny @aliceu @coupscarat @maedesculpaeusoubi @baby-wolf @multi-fandom-kpop-stan​ @minaamhh @leescrt

back to masterlist

“I’M SORRY, BUT I DON’T THINK I CAN DO THIS ANYMORE.”

Hyunjin’s face faltered completely at your words. It was expected, really. The poor boy was not anticipating this news.

“Wh-what?” he asked, a little too loudly, catching the stares of a few others in the coffee shop. You immediately glared at him, and he retracted back into his seat, but still had a befuddled expression on his face. 

You sighed a little. “Look,” you started, swirling your latte with a thin, wooden stirrer. “I’m going to be completely honest with you. I just think we’re much better off as friends.”

“Friends?” the boy flinched at the term, and even you had to hide your self-distaste. God, ____, at least try to be a little nicer! “Damn it, we’ve been dating for nearly three months, and you think we’d automatically become friends?!” he leaned in, knitting his eyebrows in growing desperation. “What the hell happened?”

You fought hard to not scratch the back of your neck. And possibly run away from the shop. Taking a long sip, you tried to feign the most sympathetic expression you could muster. “Hyunjin, please…”

“B-but, babe—” he started, and his eyes widened, trying to grab onto your hands which cupped the latte. “I don’t understand, we were so happy!” He huffed a smile, trying to convince you of your oh-so heavenly times spent with him. “Why are you thinking like this?”

You tried not to retract your hand from his — not only because it was hard to console him, but because they were embarrassingly sweaty. “Don’t think I have just done this on a whim. I have thought long about this decision.”

Finally, something out of your mouth which wasn’t a blatant lie. You had been thinking of breaking up with this goon — had the notion in your mind for half the time you dated him.

“____,” he said, and the melancholy you heard in his voice had you silencing your tongue. “What’s happened?” He began to caress your hand with his fingers. “Have I...have I done something wrong?”

Oh no. There it was. The reaction you dreaded.

Well, kind of. But still. Not the reaction you imagined in the perfect situation. 

Reluctantly, you put a hand over his fingers, hoping that your face was a painting of sympathy. 

“Hyunjin.”

Don’t say it, girl! Don’t you dare!

“It’s...it’s not you.”

You put your hand on your heart. 

“It’s me.”

Oh, Jesus.

Your eyes raised to his own, wide and glistening. 

Now, you knew Hwang Hyunjin was not the brightest kid on campus. The boy, who once asked you what the purpose of a spork was, may not have possessed the most intelligence, but you were scared that he may be smart enough to figure out that what you just said was complete, utter bullshit. 

Face it, ____. You’re done for.

A few tears spilled from his eyes, and a pang of guilt shot through you. “I-I see.” 

He did not let go of your hands. “We can still be...friends, right?” he sniffled, blinking at you rather irritatingly. “Like, we can still hang out together?”

You raised a brow, but reigned in a sarcastic reply. The boy would probably not even understand. “Of course,” you replied, a saccharine smile on your face. “But I think it’s best if we had some space from each other, okay?”

That was not the answer he seemed to be looking for, but he nodded, a little sadly. “Okay.” He still refused to take his hand away. “Does that mean I can’t rock up at yours midnight anymore if the junior needs a little taking care of?” 

Your brows could not help furrow in absolute exasperation. “Yes, Hyunjin,” you monotoned, unable to believe that you put up with this man for three months. “Now can you let go of my hand?” 

Realising his clammy hold on you, he flushed, looking away from your directory gaze. “I...should go, then.”

“No, no,” you insisted, getting up from your seat as you grabbed onto your drink. “I shall leave. I’m the one who dumped this news on you.” 

You debated leaving without paying for the latte — you knew the boy was still infatuated enough to cover your expenses. Sadly, shame coursed through your veins, and you cursed yourself for feeling a little sympathy for your now ex. “Here,” you offered, fishing out a little cash from your jacket. “For the drink.”

When you nearly stepped past him, you stopped, looking down at him as he tilted his head upwards. Your hand itched to put upon his shoulder, but you knew better. Hyunjin would only take that as a hopeful sign.

“I’m sorry,” was the last thing you said before you left the coffee shop.

Upon falling into a leisurely step onto the street, you let out a harsh breath, an endless amount of relief washing over you.

You were almost delighted to let Hwang Hyunjin go.

Now, it was not like he was a monster who had caged you into his two-feet-squared, dingy flat. In fact, the boy was, in almost every way, a decent boyfriend, whose stupid personality earned him a few laughs. 

Although extremely corny, the problem was not truly all him.

It was partly you as well.

Hearing your phone vibrate, you brought it out from your jeans pocket, already having an inkling on who the sender was, spamming you with messages.

CHRIS THE PISS :

bitch have you done it?

CHRIS THE PISS :

helloooooo??

CHRIS THE PISS :

hoe answer the phone i’m dying!! 

CHRIS THE PISS :

or prolly hyunjin at this moment lmaooo

You could not help the eyeroll which escaped from his words, and you decided to ignore him until you arrived at your destination. 

Which, evident from the persistent vibrations still, you figured you could not do.

CHRIS THE PISS :

i KNOW ur reading my messages DAMN just tell me!!

CHRIS THE PISS :

unless this is hyunjin and u killed her FUCK

CHRIS THE PISS :

haha dude whats poppin!! best man for ____ by far don't know why she was breaking up w u 

YOU :

chan i will kill u :)

CHRIS THE PISS :

hyunjin i promise i didn't mean it when i said u looked like a cheese string w ur new hair

CHRIS THE PISS :

that was ur girl putting words in my mouth 

YOU:

omfg chan STFUUU i’m coming

CHRIS THE PISS :

PLS HYUNJIN I SWEAR UR SEXC

Letting the man panic, you turned a left into student residence, buildings lined down the street, providing accommodation for hundreds of people like you in need of a place to sleep, eat, party, and contemplate the inevitability of death under.

Smiling at a few acquaintances, you entered the designated building, finding yourself with dozens of doors of the same, dead colour. Walking along the hallway, you stopped right at the very last one, bringing out your keys.

With a single twist you unlocked the door, but before you wrapped your hand around the knob the door swung open, catching you completely off guard.

“Funny, Hyunjin, how did you manage to transform into a little bitch so quickly?”

You cursed at the man who welcomed you.

“Damn it, Chan,” you said, hand on your chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sad it didn’t kill you off, then.”

You heard him splutter into laughter at your sad attempts to pinch his shoulder, glaring daggers into his crescent eyes. The bumbling idiot was Bang Chan, the one man you managed to keep for your entire life. That too is purely because none of you could manage a stable, healthy relationship — which was a shame, of course, when your best friend, with his fluffy, raven curls, black-oversized hoodie and sweatpants, was admired by so many. You often wondered how you had not fallen at his feet when he smiled at you, but then he’d open his mouth and all would be understood, as your anger would flare up, and rush to hit him as hard as possible. 

He gave you such a smile then, fingers gripping the doorframe. “How is Rapunzel, then? Sent him back to the tower?”

Wrenching his hand off the frame, which nearly had him falling onto the floor, you side-stepped past his stumbling figure, peeling off your jacket. “Rapunzel is never stepping in our lands again.”

After regaining his step, he muttered a cursed endearment your way and sat himself down on the couch, instantly settling his laptop upon his legs. “Oh, God. How badly did you break his heart, ____?”

Smiling, you dumped the jacket on the side table as you entered the living room, settling on the other end of his sofa. Propping your legs upon his, you pondered over the answer, and said, “At least a good seven.”

Chan let out a little whistle. “Oh, he’s definitely causing a shitshow on the groupchat tonight.” A huffed laugh was his answer. “Want Chinese or Indian tonight?”

“Surprise me,” you said as he brought out his phone. He dialled a number, and then you added, “Actually, can we please get Chinese?”

“No, we’re getting Indian.”

You raised a brow. “Didn’t you cry the last time you had their special curry?” 

The man stared at you for a minute before sighing, putting the phone to his ear. “I’d like your least spiciest dish please.”

He groaned as you pushed his legs off the couch, laughing at his pathetic tolerance towards spice. As he carried on with his order, you grabbed the TV remote, surfing through the channels. 

Even after all these years, you still found it endearing how Chan understood the depth of the numbers you tell him. The system between you two had been created during kindergarten, when, on the last day, you both had received such delicious cookies that words could not express the joy you felt when having the first bite. It was a mere joke at first, rating random classmates despicably low in middle school to even more serious situations, when you moaned to your best friend of your mundane kiss, expecting fireworks and butterflies yet were only met with an over-enthusiastic tongue. 

Chan himself used this system  — it was the reason you knew of his distaste towards spicy food, and certain girls he had dated in the past. Even now, when the two of you had started college together, working on the same projects and going to the same parties, this concoction had not been shelved in your memories. Although this may be something which others might deem insignificant, the concept had become a pillar of your friendship with this absolute loser.

The food arrived within the hour, and you both continued your box set as the plastic containers were cracked open, the pungent smell of curries and biryanis filling the room. Chan provided the plates and cutlery while you poured him the sufficient amount, and you rebuked his whining as you added the spicier dishes onto his plate.

“I refuse to let you eat only korma, Crispy,” you scolded. “Prick, careful! Don’t spill it on your laptop!”

“Bitch!” he yelped as a bit of the residue nearly stained his sweats, but was saved by his hands. “Just ruin everything I wear, why don’t you? Now I got curry on my fingers!”

You propped your legs over his again, eyes upon the screen once more, and the action occurring. “Just lick it off?”

“How about you do it for me?” the boy then simpered out, and you nearly tossed your entire dish on his head. 

“Let’s just focus on Tommy and his cocaine problem,” you dismissed him, but returned his impish smile as you elbowed him, nearly causing his food to stain his hoodie.

The two of you seemed to settle down after a bit and watched the show, commenting on the terrible choices the characters were making, and then boasted of how you and him could easily be the better leader from the protagonist. Soon, you had finished your takeout, and after Chan followed, he got up, hurrying into the kitchen situated behind the doorway in the lounge. He then came back, you delighted to find his hands occupied with two tubs of Ben & Jerrys’.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme!” you sang, snatching one of the tubs from him and pulling open the cover, digging straight in. “I didn’t know you brought ice cream!”

“Thought it’d help with the breakup,” he confessed, settling back into the sofa, shuffling closer to you. “But it doesn’t look like you need it.”

“Oh, I can’t believe Hyunjin broke my heart like this!”

Chan shook his head at your melodrama. “You may fool the looney princess, but you’re not fooling me.”

“You know me too well,” you said, which he agreed to with an absent-minded hum, eating his dessert.

There was a short pause, a comfortable silence reigning upon you both for a little before your best friend broke it, gulping down his ice cream.

“____?” 

“No, you’re not having any of mine.”

Chan prodded you lightly with his foot. “No, I don’t mean that. I was just wondering something.”

“Shoot.”

“You’re not...upset, right?” He took a bite of his ice cream. “Like, I know you always complained about him, but breakups can be difficult.”

You looked at him, and saw genuine concern painted on his face — along with a little vanilla stain on the corner of his lips. “You don’t have to pretend to be happy if you’re not, okay?” he continued. “Especially with me.”

Your heart melted slightly. “Of course, Chan, don’t worry. I wouldn’t ever lie to you.” 

Turning to the TV screen, you sighed as you thought of your recent relationship. “There were good moments for sure. He was still a sweet guy, you know?” You then stabbed the creamy plains inside the tub. “It was just so...dull.”

The man beside you took in another bite, if a bit slow. “What do you mean?”

Following him, you relished the chocolate goodness, swallowing. “Dates were kind of boring. I carried most of the conversations because he’s too thick to talk about anything.”

Chan let out a soft snort. “I remember you telling me about it. I can certainly believe it.”

“Well, you won’t believe what I’m about to tell you next.” You focused on your ice cream, a sarcastic smile plastered upon your face. “Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin was terrible at sex.”

You did not need to see your best friend to sense his shock. “What?”

A small chuckle escaped you. “First time he fucked me, I think I cried. Not because it was so good, no, but because it was so bad.”

“No way,” Chan said, brows furrowed. “Didn’t you say he had a big dick or something?”

“That’s the downside, bud,” you countered, halfway through your tub. “Because he had a massive cock he thought that was enough for me to enjoy. But it’s not. He just did not know what to do with it!” 

The man had been silenced. He took another bite of his ice cream, in disbelief. “So you were...deprived of pleasure?”

“Deprived?” You scoffed. “Chan, I thirsted for a crumb of pleasure. God, can you believe I’ve faked nearly all my orgasms with him?”

This time, your friend glanced at you in horror. Carrying on, you said, “The only real orgasm I had was not even because of him. God, I was thinking about Lee Donghyuck singing between my legs.”

A soft growl entered your ears. “Oh Christ.”

“Bastard was so proud when I came all over him,” you crowed, trying to sweeten your bitterness with the dessert. “If only I told him I undid myself for an idol I’m never going to meet.”

Your friend did not say anything. The episode finished, and when you noticed his further silence, you used it to your advantage, starting a romantic comedy before he could even complain.

Even with the movie on for about twenty minutes, and the romance you thoroughly enjoyed, the man stayed quiet, idly stirring his melted ice cream in the tub. You ignored his rather odd behaviour, assuming he was either thinking of his assignment or had gotten a brain freeze. Either way, it let you watch your movie in peace, swooning outwardly at the man’s teasing to the girl.

One hour in, and you asked if Chan was okay. “Yeah...yeah, I’m good,” was his answer, sending you a second-long smile before going back to his brain freeze. You raised a confused brow, but went back to the chick flick, gasping when the boy went back for his love.

This was it. The fireworks, the passion which exuded from the mere actions of lips enveloping lips, hands holding onto waists or necks or locks and refusing to let go. You craved for your heart to drop down in lust as you let yourself fall, be wrapped up in another as you undid yourself. Where was this? Where was this for you?

Did you not deserve your desires to be fulfilled? Did you not deserve to have your entire world turned upside down in pure exhilaration?

Before you knew it, the credits rolled, and you let out a long, laboured sigh, leaning into the cushions. “Maybe it’s time I find myself a millionaire who’d pay me to have sex with me.”

The man was still looking at the now black screen. “Do you mean a prostitute?”

“Well, yes, but—” you groaned. “You know what? Maybe I’m meant to stay forever displeased.”

It was after a long time your best friend spoke. “Or…” he cleared his throat. “You find yourself someone who would pleasure you.”

You turned to him. “Wowie, thank you for a perfect solution! I really wouldn’t know what I’d do without you.”

Then, you saw his eyes darken. “____.” He propped the tub upon the coffee table. “Why search for other alternatives when you have options right here?”

Confusion marred your mind, not just from his words, but his entire change of character. “Chan, what are you on about?”

“____,” he said, and his hand inched closer to yours. “ I’m saying you should have a friends with benefits.”

The silence was suddenly heard. You did not realise the sheer weight of this man’s gaze till his very stare gravitated you to him. The lights were dimmed, and all you could see from the laptop’s light was his face — his beautiful face. 

What was all this? Why was your best friend looking at you like that? Why were you being affected by his gaze?

“I…” You could barely get the words out. “I never thought about that before.”

Chan had no such problem. “Well, maybe you should. There are many who would gladly be that person for you.”

You gave him a look. “And who would they be?”

A slight cock of his head. “____, who is your best friend, in the same class as you, share the same interests and would help you out in any way whatsoever?”

The question rather befuddled you. Why couldn’t the man just say the answer already? You thought of the few viable options, tossing, turning the names. 

Then it occurred to you. Your friend’s face sparked a little in what could only have been hope.

“I know!” you exclaimed, holding onto his arm. “I should ask Jisung!”

The little sliver of hope in his eyes morphed into annoyance. “What the fuck?”

Raising your brow, you asked, “Is that not the right answer?” You listed out the evidence. “He’s basically my best friend, is in music with us, we like similar things and would be willing to help me in any situation. I think.”

When you were done, you found yourself more confused when Chan closed his eyes, shaking his head. “What?” you demanded.

“Oh my God.”

His fingers caressed yours, and you gasped to find your skin prickling at the touch. You raised your eyes to his, and found yourself lost for words.

“You dumb bitch, I should be your friends-with-benefits.”

Your mouth dropped.

Perhaps you would have said something, but then his thumb began stroking your skin, and you figured it was better to relish that instead. Thus, you looked at him, gobsmacked, not entirely sure what to say to his declaration. 

It seemed Chan was a little nervous too. “Look, I can tell you’re surprised…” he paused, a little lost for words as well. “Fuck, I guess I shouldn’t have suggested so early into the breakup, but you just…”

He pinned you with his gaze. “I couldn’t have my best friend miss out on the pleasure she deserves. And if that means giving you the pleasure myself, then I will do it.”

Bang Chan. Not just the best friend you’ve ever had, but the man who proposed benefits to this certain friendship.

“Well,” you got out, after what seemed like eternity. “Well damn.”

“We don’t have to do anything right now. Or even anytime soon.” He let go off your hands, and you did not know why the touch was missed so greatly. “Just...think about it for me, will you?”

You didn’t really have it in you to refuse. “Of course,” you said, feeling the need to touch something. Your eyes fell upon the remote, and figured you should distract yourself by watching the next episode of the series you previously watched. 

You needed a clear distraction, or else Chan would not need to wait long for his answer.

The episode began, and you watched, clamping your lips together as you felt the man shuffle closer to you, one hand sprawled on the top of the couch with his other hand idly surfing on his laptop. You rooted your eyes to the screen, finding yourself engulfed in 1920s England, trying to forget that your best friend left no space between you two.

Managing to somehow distract yourself from the lack of distance, you even began to relax, swooning softly of the gangster’s mannerisms towards his love interests, their intimate dancing in her bedroom. It was touching, and you even let yourself lean into your friend, who, too, glanced every now and then, a little smile upon his face.

Everything was fine and dandy until the characters started to kiss.

Now, there was nothing wrong with kissing. You were a hopeless romantic, and adored to see the actions of love on screen, the final breaking of barriers between two characters.

The problem was, the kissing did not seem to end there. The bigger problem was that this lust on screen made you all the more aware of your best friend beside you.

You froze, watching with no small amount of confused shock as the characters increased their desires, unbuttoning their clothes, discarding them as their lips moved against each other’s. Your eyes widened at the nudity, once never a bother but suddenly extremely embarrassing, as they collided, bare chest to bare chest.

The matters did not help at all when you sensed the increased beating of Chan’s heart, almost as loud as the instruments harmonising in the background. His searching on his laptop had ceased, as frozen as you were as his eyes refused to look away to the man and woman making love.  

It was too much. You had seen much worse scenes in your life before, but never had one made you so hot and bothered. Of course you knew why, though. Of course you knew, when the man you laid your head upon was breathing harder than you do when you walk up a flight of stairs. 

You did not waste a minute longer as you pointed the remote to the TV, and switched the screen off. Completely black, void of further lust radiating through the glass. 

A shuddered breath escaped Chan. “Well...double damn.”

You did not answer back. Only distanced yourself on the sofa, his fingers on the couch brushing against the back of your head. His touch may have been the last thing you needed then.

But that was not true. Seeing that sex scene, all glorified and affectionate, had you craving his touch. Your eyes could not bear to meet him, but his presence was suffocating enough. God, if you did not leave that couch now, you would dare to do something quite unimaginable.

Chan did not seem to move either. Your presence, too, had him nearly choking out a pained sob. Anymore time spent, and he would have another problem erecting soon.

At last, when a few minutes seemed like hours, you felt your friend stir. You were surprised to be devastated at the prospect of him leaving.

You were further shocked when, as Chan mustered all the strength in himself to get off the couch, he was stopped by your hand encircling his wrist. 

Whirling his head at your direction, his eyes widened. He was met with your own aghast ones, as your hand tugged him back to the couch.

You did not let go of his wrist as you whispered the words you never thought would have left your mouth that night.

“Let’s do it, Chan.”

His hand went limp in your hold.

For a second you thought he died under your grasp, but the way he parted his mouth went against your judgement. Perhaps you had sent his living soul flying out of his body, but you could not blame him — you did not feel at all like yourself just then.

“I wanna do it,” you murmured, refusing to let go. 

Chan’s eyes darted to the tight hold upon his wrist, and then to you once more. He opened his mouth, closing it straight after as he glanced away.

With a heavy sigh, he looked to you once more, an abundance of emotions swirling in his usually mischievous, soft eyes.

“Are you sure, ____?” He leaned a little closer, causing your heart to malfunction for a second. “You don’t have to think about it now—”

“Well, it’s all I can think about,” you cut him off, eyes never leaving him, despite the reddening of your cheeks. “And I want to do it.

“Like I said, Chan.” You shuffled a little closer, and your knees brushed against his. “I am deprived of pleasure.”

The man blinked once, twice, taking your declaration all in. He had to tell himself that this was not a dream, but a very much a fortunate reality, and that you were asking him of something he had been wanting to give you for a very long time.

There it was. Something he wasn’t quite ready to admit. You wanting your desires met by him was so much more than enough.

Dreaming still, he slithered one hand around your waist, almost like second nature as the other found refuge upon your face. His fingers were tender, softly caressing your cheeks as his eyes beheld you in a way he had never before..

This change of sight had you unable to look away from him.

“If you feel uncomfortable with all this…” he swept away a stray curl. “I will stop. That’ll be the end of it.”

You nodded, finding solace within his eyes. “I know.”

But there was no discomfort. Rather an impatient welcome, a growing urge for your needs met. Promises fulfilled. 

When you sensed him lean closer, so shy and yet so determined, hands still holding you, those vows were sure to be carried out.

You found out in the best way possible — the second when Chan brushed his lips against yours. 

His touch had you flying out your skin; well, not really, but it sure felt as such, when his mouth moulded with yours, a confirmation that he was strangely perfect for your own two lips, that he was meant to embed himself upon your mouth. 

You closed your eyes, heart climbing up your chest as your hands skimmed around his neck. Chan began his movements, and you were so unaccustomed to the actions that you could not help but be led by his kiss. The man had a way of making you listen to his every order, vocalised or not. 

The kiss was so...unreal. It was all that rang in your mind, over and over as the man took his time; he carried out a sensual rhythm upon your lips, not only to avoid overwhelming you, but to fully take in his situation — that he was kissing you, and no other girl who he had never dreamed of. 

He had all the time in the world for this.

The hand upon your waist gripped onto you a little harder, nails skirting around the hem of your shirt. His tongue teased you now, running along for entrance, to delve inside and drink in your every essence. Your mouth practically begged the man to prowl inside, opening up to him completely, a signal of full trust. 

You wanted this as much as he did. 

His elated rush was expressed through his tongue, when it slithered inside your mouth. Butterflies erupted in your body at the way he swirled it along with yours, almost playing with your tongue as if you both did. Of course, this is slightly different, because your gimmicks with Chan never had you salivating at the mouth. Nor feeling like you’re about to leak into your clothes from his touches.

Which really was the situation you ended up in; Chan, his hand now skimming under your shirt, revelling the skin of your abdomen, warming beneath his touch. The hand, once upon your face, had latched upon your locks, while you ran your fingers through his own velvety hair, nearly undoing yourself over the soft feel. 

Just when you thought he was going in for more, he broke away, hands still upon you — your breathing was ragged, the man in front of you panting slightly as well. His eyes, with no small amount of surprise, seemed a little feverish, whether that be from a random cold he contracted during the minutes he kissed you, or…

Or, as you found yourself biting your lip, he took an intoxicated toll over you, and how exquisite it was to drive his tongue in your mouth.

“Better than Rapunzel?” He whispered, so close his breath fanned your lips, spit-slick thanks to him. 

You made sure he was aware of your fingers threading in his locks, eliciting a low murmur. “Rapunzel better not leave the tower again.”

Chuckling, he wasted no time before he was upon you again, an invisible leash on him threatening to snap. He drove the shirt higher, skirting up your sides until he broke away from you for a mere second before peeling the shirt off of you and tossing it beside him.

Heaving, the sight of you in a bra was making the leash all the more tight, hands never leaving your sides as he latched onto your neck. Leaving open-mouthed kisses, down and down until his lips trailed past your collarbone, you let the moans leave your mouth, heightened and quick and unexpected. Suddenly he descended on you, kneeeling on the floor with hands following suit. 

Pleasure. You were oozing with pleasure as you hurried for the hems of his black hoodie, needing to have it off and run your hands on the expanse of his chest. Chan, a little preoccupied, did not realise your demands until you whined out your request.

“Chan—!” you gasped out as his lips left your belly, fingers upon the buttons of your trousers. “Hoodie, I need it off!”

The man only continued with his task, taking the zip down. “Up,” he rushed out, gesturing with his hand.

Dazed, you replied with a confused murmur, only understanding the need to take his stupid hoodie off.

He looked up from his endeavours, and the sight of him hovering between your legs nearly undid you. “I mean your hips, baby, put them up.” He grabbed onto the sides of your jeans. “I wanna take this off.”

Gulping, you raised your hips, giving Chan ease to pull your jeans, all the way down until your legs were bare, save for the soiled underwear which he instantly landed his eyes on. 

His mouth slipped out an uneasy fuck, which was just the right way to have you leaking even further. “Chan, come on,” you hurried, seething at the throbbing. 

His hands pushed you back on the couch, travelling down until they caressed the back of your knees. Pulling you closer from there, he leaned in until he was a few inches away from your moistened cunt, hurting more the longer he made you wait.

It wasn’t his fault, really. He still felt as if he’s living a dream he did not deserve. 

Fingers drumming against the back of your knees, the man blew a little upon your folds, and you let out a strained hiss at the soft breeze. This hypersensitivity was going to be your undoing, but even the smallest of actions brought you such thrill.

“I’m about to spoil you good, ____,” he whispered, and before you could reply, he descended.

The first kitty lick along the surface had you in shock.

Tendrils of pleasure gushed inside you, lurking all over your body as Chan swiped his tongue along the outside of your cunt, teasing, shying away, awaiting your reaction. You answered him with an indecipherable noise, a sound which had never escaped you before.

Maybe because no one had ever played with your cunt like this.

You truly had wasted your time with Hyunjin — this man, tasting your arousal, let out a satisfied hum, and when he dug deeper with his tongue, spreading your legs further, the moans you let escape were, for the first time, absolutely real. No acting, no bullshit.

Just like your best friend promised.

“Chan—!” You stuttered out, when he began circling your clit. “God, just like that!” You encouraged further, hips shaking at the way he made a mess of you. 

In response his hands left your legs, pressing them upon your hips. To your horror he paused his actions, peering up from your legs. 

The slick shining upon his lips could well have made you cum on his face right then and there. “I need you to stay still, baby,” he said, his hands on your hips keeping you in place, as his eyes did the same. “So I can do this properly.

“I don’t want you getting half-assed pleasure, okay?”

His soft demands, his calm explanations brought you in a further state of frenzy. You could not nod faster, chuckling emitting from him as his hands travelled down once more. 

“Good girl.”

And his mouth was upon your cunt again, this time the leash finally snapping as his tongue hardened against the seams. Your moans could have been heard in the hallways, but you didn’t particularly care when Chan, in the midst of his ravenous lapping, introduced the prospect of his fingers, caressing your dripping folds, swiping them over around the edges.

You didn’t know what to do — your hands scrambled to fist the fabric of the couch, laying back against the pillows. The hold grew tighter when your best friend slid his middle finger inside of you.

The journey may have been slow, but that was what made it all the more delightful. Feeling it go deeper and deeper had a particularly loud groan flying out of you, but the rhythm he adopted, pulling it out, but then diving it back again without leaving your cunt, had you delirious. 

A once foreign, unimaginable feeling you never thought you’d experience, was back inside — the heavy sensation deep within your gut, like a dull ache which grew more known the harder Chan worked between your legs. The feeling you had only ever experienced when you imagined Donghyuck instead of your ex-boyfriend in this similar situation. 

Fuck, there it is, you thought. The feeling of your incoming orgasm.

And it was not going to go if this man worked harder than the devil tonight.

“Chan—fuck—” you got cut off when he increased the speed of his finger inside of you. “I-I’m close.”

Never ceasing his finger, he looked up at you, hooded eyes welcoming you despite the tenderness on his face. “You’re doing so good, ____. So fucking good for me,” he cooed, melting your heart despite the situation. 

This time, he accompanied his fingering with a second digit, stretching out your walls and working harmoniously together in making you submit to him. Already you felt as if he’d filled you up, and the actions of his digits practically scissoring inside of you had every muscle in your body readying for release.

He dove back in, merciless to your clit, and all this work, everything at once, was so much that when you cried out, your release had to follow through. You couldn’t control yourself as you let your cum escape, staining the couch and the floor — most importantly, how most of it landed in Chan’s mouth. 

Breathing unevenly, and louder than you ever thought possible, you closed your eyes, slumping further into the couch. You sensed an emptiness inside you, and figured Chan had taken out his fingers. Opening your eyes, you saw him close your legs together, propping his head upon your lap, hands supporting his chin. He looked up at you, licking his lips free of your residue.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

The man smiled at you. “Satisfied?” he asked, fingers caressing your skin. 

Oh, of course you were. Damn it, you were more than satisfied — you were positively elated. If he had managed to make you cum with his fingers and tongue alone, imagine what he could have done with his dick.

You blinked. 

Imagine what he could have done with his dick.

“____?”

Perking up, you looked to the man kneeling before you still, anticipation brimming in his stature. “Please tell me you didn’t fake it.”

Embarrassment engulfed your body at the idea. “Chan, if you really think I faked all of that then I deserve an Oscar.”

Pride washed over his features. “Good.”

You then watched him slowly get up, climbing over you, hands skirting up your figure till he captured your face in his hands and pressed his lips against yours. You had enough strength to kiss him back, but failed to exceed him when he began nibbling upon the swell of your lip, making you revert to stage one of your growing need all over again.

Breaking away, you glanced up at him, holding onto his hoodie. “I want...more.”

The man stilled his actions, hands going limp upon your skin. You had about three seconds of panicking as you tugged on his clothes, whispering, “Wait, Chan, it’s okay if—”

But suddenly, his hands left your face, and the panic increased with you being lifted into the air, his hold under your knees and back as he brought you close to his chest. 

His eyes upon you were a hazard to your well-being. “God, ____, you could really ruin me.”

Your flustered nature was interrupted by Chan rushing to his bedroom, kicking the door open with his feet and pressing quick kisses upon your mouth, your cheeks, all over your face as you giggled out in reaction, arms locked around him.

His room was the same as his attire, black on black on even more black, save for a few gold corners and grey instruments settled in the far end of the space. His bed, however, was vast and comfortable, a place you have slept in many a time when late night recording sessions turned into sleepovers.

Gently, he laid you down on his bed, feeling the cool sting of the night air on your cunt, making you shiver. Your bra was useless in keeping you warm, but when Chan began to take off his hoodie, shirt dragging out along with it, you suddenly began to feel a lot hotter.

Discarding the clothes, you were rewarded with the image of shirtless Chan, slightly disheveled due to his endeavours between your legs. His smile revealed a hint of arrogance as he acknowledged your blatant staring, slowly taking off his sweatpants. 

“Careful, baby, or you’ll cum right there,” he mused, noticing the way your legs shivered in ecstasy. He dumped his clothes along with the others, catching sight of his Calvins barely containing his erection.

You felt the mattress press down as he prowled to you upon the bed, the more chaos erupting in your gut the further he came closer. You could barely contain yourself when he hovered over you, lips mere inches from yours. A powerful force within you halted your very breath — you knew, though, that at this particular moment, your entire soul rested in the hands of this man, looking at you through long lashes. 

He enveloped your lips, grinding his clothed erection against your cunt, drinking in your whines, your silent pleas of replacing it with the real deal. He smirked against your mouth, opening the seams as his one hand grabbed onto yours, leading it to the waistband of your boxers. 

Your fingers fumbled to take peel down the fabric, Chan parting from your lips to take it off entirely. His cock sprang free, and you let out a god-awful, shrill-like noise at the way it stood, red and angry and so very fucking big. 

“Fuck me,” you slipped out in a breath, earning a chuckle from him. 

“I very much plan to,” he had the nerve to reply, you wanting very much to slap his shit-eating grin off of him. Or perhaps kiss it till your breath was lost. 

Embarrassed, you tried to look away, but his fingers gripped your chin, leading your eyes to his. Other hand holding onto your hip, he gently positioned himself between your legs, precum already staining your folds. Breathing stunted, your stare reflected subservience, a request to bury his dick inside you already.

He read your every plea. 

Pressing his forehead against yours, he let out a shuddered breath before beginning the final descent.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Chan slid his cock inside — your mouth parted from the transition, at the tightening sensation as he kept going, burying those inches until your eyes were as wide as saucers, unable to look away from him. You dared not move, fear of snapping more a reality in your head than some far-fetched delusion.

Dragging his stare from your slit to your face, he caressed your cheek, offering you a small smile.

“Don’t be quiet, okay?” he asked, hand on your hip like iron. 

Nodding, it was all the signal he needed.

Just as gradually, he began to slide out, and, with his words in mind, you let yourself be shameless. The rhythm of his hips, the pain-stakingly tempered movement, made you whine profusely, and when the man slithered inside once more, moaning lewdly was your only reaction. It was all your brain could think of, when his cock was the sole deity which mattered in this moment.

His pace began to fasten, though, grunting erratically as his grip on you tightened. Your cunt was taking a toll, your second orgasm of the night a great possibility as you felt it inside you, as tangible as the dick being pushed and pulled out into you. 

“F-faster!” you wailed out, and God bless Chan, for he obliged you completely, increasing his rhythm, practically abusing your slit with the way he fucked into you. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and you let them fall, for there was no hiding your emotions with this man.

Your best friend could see right through you anyway. 

Chan’s strength seemed unhuman as he thrusted his cock into you faster and faster, and you knew if he did not stop then you would cum all over for the second time. The very image had you on the edge of your sanity.

When his cock hit your g-spot you really believed yourself hitting seventh heaven of delight. White spots blurred your vision, tears now your beloved companion as they trailed down your cheeks. “I’m c-close, fuck—” you tried to voice, but were cut off when slid out once more, tip never leaving your folds. 

His hair stuck to his forehead, beads of sweat peppered on his face as he crushed you with his lips, relishing your whines. His tongue befriended yours, and the swirling of your muscles with each other had brought a new form of high bubbling within you. 

You moaned his name onto his lips, hands sliding around his neck, pulling you as close as physically possible. This was it. You could not wait any longer. You wanted your undoing, and you wanted it now, in these sheets, within his arms, within his hypnotic presence. 

It was incredibly fortunate that Bang Chan could read you like the back of his hand.  

Parting from your mouth, he kissed a sloppy trail all the way to your ear, lips grazing against the lobe. 

“Go on, then,” he purred, leaving a small kiss to your skin. “Cum for me.”

His words were all you needed before you let yourself go, crying out as release poured from the tight spaces your cunt offered, and onto the sheets below. You wheezed in a few breaths, tired gasps gripping your body.

Chan, within the second, pulled out, just in time for him to let out a pained growl as he came onto his bedsheets. Some of the fluids sullied your legs, but seemed the perfect time as he collapsed right beside you, breathing as heavily as you were. 

You and Chan were the only noise in the room — however, if one could translate emotions into sound, that would be an entirely different matter. 

At least for you. You could barely contain your elation.

An emptiness may be present inside of you, but it was now replaced with a full heart. Fuck, you could not believe you had finally been given pleasure, such unadulterated satisfaction that you wondered whether it truly occurred, or was just another fantasy — this time with Chan’s face plastered rather than your infatuation of the month.

Sensing the said-man move, you turned to your side, smiling to see his stare fixated on you. Shifting closer, he curled a stray lock from your face behind your ear. “How’re you feeling?” he asked gently, hand on your face still.

You laid your head against your arm. “I am so pissed I didn’t break up with Hyunjin sooner.”

Laughing, his fingers trailed downward, sketching onto your collarbone. “You…” he paused, biting his lip with what you saw, surprisingly, as apprehension. “You really liked it?” 

Your eyes darted to the surroundings, smirk spreading across your lips. “I mean, I am an insanely good actress...”

His shock horror had you spluttering into laughter. When he tried to turn his back to you and sulk, you held onto his arm, keeping him in place. “Oh, stop! You know I’m joking, you big oaf.”

Pouting, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “You better be,” he muttered, earning further giggles from his truly. The laughter was replaced with your yawning, which Chan instantly picked up on. “Hey, ____, you should sleep.” He began stroking your hair. “You’re really tired.”

You tried to object, but your intended groans become more deep yawns, proving his point. He passed his fingers over your eyelids, fluttering them close. “I’m not hearing anything else!”

Stinging out your tongue in what you hoped was at his direction, you grudgingly obliged. “Fine.”

You felt him sigh upon your face. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, Hyuck.” 

“Nevermind, I hope you have a terrible sleep.”

With your last round of exhausted laughter, you let yourself fall into oblivion, safe in your best friend’s arms. 

YOU WOKE UP WITH CHAN ALREADY GONE.

It was not such a huge disappointment. The man had warned you before that he had to leave early to meet up with his supervisor. In all honesty, maybe it was good he was not there, next to you in his sheets. 

Your hands gripped those very sheets, raising them right under your chin as you looked up to the ceiling, watching the dried swirls of black paint overlapping each other.

“Oh my God.”

Indeed. Here you were, in your best friend’s bed, basking in his scent, in his world. Of course, you always seemed to smell of him, considering you both never seemed to let go of each other, but last night was different.

Obviously, because Bang Chan had never rocked your shit before. 

Your legs began to tingle at the thought. Even the mere memory had you feeling a mysterious sensation all over your body, reminders of the places Chan had looked, touched, tasted. God, you did not think, did not let yourself think further or you’d be calling that man this second.

You knew you had to get up at some point — you had some recording to do today, and more assignments to hand in. You had tasks, obligations to take care of. Unfortunately, the warmth of your best friend’s bed was much too enticing for you to submit to the requests of reality, and so you let yourself lay there for moments longer, in hope you can recreate the scene in your head once more.

There was no lie about this. Bang Chan knew how to fuck you into another dimension. 

Just when you were about to dream into last night, your phone vibrated harshly against the bedside table. Curious, you stretched out your hand, grabbing the object and checking who so rudely disturbed your shameless manifesting.

CHRIS THE PISS: 

just stopped by the medical room,,, want me to get a wheelchair?

CHRIS THE PISS:

cause im sure asf u can’t walk rn 

You rolled your eyes until it hurt. Stupid prick.

YOU:

i haven’t gotten out of bed actually 

CHRIS THE PISS:

oh damn

CHRIS THE PISS:

i PARALYSED u??

CHRIS THE PISS:

why am i so powerful 

“This asshole,” you muttered. 

YOU:

STFUU COCKY MF

CHRIS THE PISS: 

It’s ok you’ll cute in a wheelchair

YOU:

?!?!?!?!!?!

CHRIS THE PISS:

but tell me 

CHRIS THE PISS:

how good was it

This had you pausing. 

CHRIS THE PISS:

outta ten

Now here was a rating you couldn’t bring yourself to confess.

All you wanted to do was give him a solid ten — the man finally offered you a better view of sex and how it can be appreciated, and the way he guided you through it was more than just adequate.

But the thing was, you and Chan hadn’t ever given each other 10/10s.

A perfect score was a rarity in your dynamic; possibly a rating never revealed before because you and Chan had promised each other never to exaggerate on this system. The only time you had ever used the solid ten was when he made you his first ever song at the tender age of nine. At the time, it was a terrible tune, with beats all over the damn place with no form of rhythm, but because he made it especially for you, you voiced your true opinion and rated him the perfect score.

Again, the situation here was different.

So, instead of the truth, you resorted to irritation. 

YOU:

2/10 :)

You waited for his text.

However, you did not receive it.

Only the shrill ringtone of your phone, snapping you further into consciousness. 

Groaning, you swiped right onto the screen, pressing the speaker button.

“Now I know you’re lying!”

Laughing, you propped the phone beside you on the bed, upon the place where Chan would have been. “You got a big ego there, hun.”

“That may be true, but my cock is bigger, so I still win.”

You were glad he was not here — the man would have sensed your embarrassment in an instant. 

It was worse because he was not lying. “Now tell me, Pinocchio,” he continued, voice interrupting as the noise of the students around him came through the receiver. “Out of ten.”

“I already messaged it to you, buddy,” you said impassively, or at least you tried. “A solid two would suffice.”

God, you could almost feel your nose growing.

Perhaps he felt it too, for he answered, with no small amount of pride, “I’m gonna pretend I fucked you so good you forgot how to think properly.”

You could not help gulping, raising the sheets over you. It wasn’t exactly hard on boning, but even so...you really thought for a second you’d lose all feeling in your legs last night.

“Shut up, Chan.”

“Shut up, Chan,” he parroted, which had you threatening to hang up. “Don’t think I’ve let you go on this subject.”

“Try me, buddy,” you jeered.

“And for Christ’s sake, stop calling me ‘buddy’,” he demanded. “Or else I’m pulling a Hyunjin.”

“A Hyunjin?”

“Yeah, a Hyunjin.” You heard the sound of horns blaring at the end of his call. “Ruining your sex life.”

That nearly made you freak. “Damn, I won’t say it again, Christopher Bang, musical name Bang Chan, nicknamed Chris the Piss—”

You heard his chuckling through the phone. “All that for my dick. I must have changed your life, ____.”

Heating up from his stupid comments, you grabbed the phone from the table. “I’ll see you in the studios, asshole.”

His smugness ran rich in his voice. “Buh-bye, baby.”

The minute the call ended, you sighed heavily, clutching the phone to your chest.

He did change your life.

Not necessarily your entire life, but certainly a huge aspect of it. A small part of you was horrified at how easily he shifted your daily balance, making you ponder over him more often, with much more intensity than before. Were you a sex maniac? Were you so deprived of being touched that one night of fun had you begging like a woman starved?

“Whatever,” you groaned, swinging your legs to the side of the bed, and upon the carpet. “Fuck Chan.”

Hopefully tonight.

FUCKING AROUND WITH CHAN MIGHT HONESTLY BE THE BEST DECISION YOU HAVE EVER MADE IN A LONG, LONG TIME.

And you weren’t the one to make good decisions. You get up an hour before the afternoons, drink Pepsi Max to compensate for your lack of water drinkage, and worst of all, you would gladly sell your body for Colin Firth, especially if he dressed himself up as Mr. Darcy at his age. Whatever setbacks you possessed, you knew that this, at least, was a step in the right direction.

Bang Chan may have been as big a loser as you were, but the man made you feel like a powerful entity. Hell, in all the state, with the way he made you act.

Never before had you become so daring — libraries, which were once your place of study, became a rendezvous for his slender fingers inside your cunt. The living room had become a breeding ground, and even your shower was stained of your promiscuity. There was no place left where you and Chan hadn’t done something scandalous, and you wondered, with no small amount of excitement, on how this new side of your friendship with him would progress. 

These thoughts accompanied you as you walked to your destination. It was not far off as you entered campus, and smiled at the few students who passed by.

Soon, you found yourself in the music department, and walked through the familiar halls, littered with posters of different artists and singers in their peak careers. A few trophies were boasted of behind a glass screen, but the surroundings all became irrelevant when you approached your designated music rooms.

Expecting Chan to be inside, headphones adorned, you did not bother knocking, strolling straight into the room. However, you stopped completely when a giant, hoodie-clothed back did not greet you.

Instead, it was a tinier hoodie-clothed back, faded yellow over the trademark black. Although not your best friend, you instantly recognised the alternative, and smiled.

“Jisung!”

The boy did not seem to hear, for he kept bobbing his head, no doubt trying out beats. 

You tiptoed slpwly until you stood right behind him. Then, in a flash, you snapped your hands upon his shoulders.

“Boo!”

A shrill, terrified yell erupted, chair being swivelled suddenly as the back hit against the controls. You took a step back out of shock too, a choked giggle escaping when you beheld the face of Han Probably-shit-his-pants-Jisung. 

“Oh my fucking God,” he rasped out, hand on his chest. He then locked eyes with you, and suddenly his quivering mouth melted into a smile of relief. “Ah, ____!”

“The one and only.” You sat down on the neighbouring chair. “Sorry if I made you shit your pants. It was fully attended.”

“Stop,” he insisted, taking off his headphones and scooting a little closer to you. “These are new jeans as well.”

“Not my fault if you’re a pussy,” you chanted, picking up the headphones, settling them upon your ears. “Can I listen?”

“Of course!” Jisung pressed a few keys on his laptop, and the music began. 

Your eyes widened in surprise to hear pleasant, almost lo-fi background before his voice flooded in, comforting you with his soft lilt and meaningful lyrics. On instinct your head bobbed along to the rhythm of the beat, smiling at the wordplay and the rising vocals.

“Jisung, this is really good!” you exclaimed. The boy waved off the compliment, but you instantly saw his face reddening. “Oh, stop it, you know that you’re one of the best out here.”

If you thought he couldn’t get more flustered, he proved you incredibly wrong. “Don’t say that,” he shrilled, propping his feet up on the chair and hugging his legs tightly. When he saw the look on your face, though, he smiled, teeth and all. “Thank you, ____. It means a lot coming from you.”

“Oh, I’m no musical genius,” you said, pressing the play button to hear his music. “Just a motherfucker who can appreciate a song of the year when she hears one.”

Jisung nearly passed out from your compliment, but you did not take it much into account as you focused all your attention on the piece. It was an undoubted fact that Han Jisung was an extremely talented dude. You already knew you could never compete with him, but he was certainly up to Chan’s level of musical expertise. With all this talent brimming around you, you made a mental note never to make more gifted friends in the future. 

Once the song ended, you took off the headphones, propping them gently upon the table. “I think you’ve inspired me to do some actual work.” 

The boy was still smiling as he reached his hand out, planting it upon your own on the table. “Well, I’m honoured to be your inspiration.” His eyes reached yours, and you were engulfed with his warmth. “The feeling is more than mutual.”

You offered him a grin, and were about to say something when the door opened.

Turning, you were welcomed by Chan’s dark figure at the studio entrance, holding two cups of coffee. Despite his black attire, you found yourself admiring a little too brazenly the bare face he never exposed in public, the beanie hiding his curls, and the tick in his jaw, which heightened further when he took in the scene.

The actions were quick — the darting of his eyes as they started on you, then travelled to your hand, engulfed with another’s. He raised them to the man guilty of the touch, and found himself staring at Jisung, beaming not only from you anymore, but at the arrival of his friend.

The joy was not returned. 

“Chan!” Jisung greeted, letting go of your hand innocently as he ushered your best friend over. 

He nodded in return, gaze back to you as he walked, a little too slowly, to the two of you. He put the two beverages upon the table next to the keyboards. “I didn’t know you were in as well,” he said. After a pause, he added, “I would have gotten another coffee.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” he assured him, even though it did not look like he needed any reassurances. 

Catching onto Chan’s attitude, you slid your coffee to the boy beside you. “I don’t want any right now. You take it.”

You took note of the pursed lips, and ignored it as Jisung widened his eyes. “No, no, it’s okay—”

“Ji, I insist,” you pestered him, driving the cup within his grasp. “You look so tired.”

He offered you a lovely smile before taking the beverage. “Thank you.”

Chan, watching this little conversation, had him clamping his lips together, possibly to not say something stupid. It was a little habit of his, thankfully in action. He slid the other cup to you. “You can have mine.”

You looked up at him. “I’m good, buddy.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Share.”

You rolled your own, taking a sip of the coffee, and thanked yourself for not being petty enough to refuse him. “Fine.” 

Jisung swivelled his chair so he faced Chan, fingers upon his laptop. “Do you wanna listen to the demo?” He grabbed the headphones, holding it out to him. “I’m nearly done with it.”

“You can send it to me later,” was his curt answer, as he took the cup from you and drank. 

You looked at him in exasperation, but the boy nodded in satisfaction, picking his bag off the floor. “That’s chill!” he said, heaving off the chair. “I got all the time, so don’t worry too much about it.”

He then turned to the two of you as he strolled to the door. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you both something.”

“Spit it out, then,” Chan jeered, which had you glaring at him. What the fuck was his problem?

Jisung did not catch on, continuing. “So, later this week, Changbin and I are throwing a party, and I was hoping you both would like to come.”

You perked up at that piece of information. “That’s something I like to hear!” Snatching the coffee cup from your friend, you purposefully took a huge gulp. “Any specific date?”

“I was hoping Friday night.” A small sip of his drink. “We just wanted to have some fun after a difficult week, dissertations and all.” His gaze never faltered from yours. “You in?”

Chan, noticing, settled in the space previously taken, and raised a hand in objection. “Sorry, Ji. ____ and I always do something Friday night. Gotta uphold the tradition.” 

You turned to face him, a brow raised. He wasn’t wrong, in all honesty. But why did he mention it now?

Jisung, too, was a little curious. “Oh?” He fixed the strap of his bag. “I won’t get in the way, then.”

He turned, and you made to open your mouth only to have Chan press a finger to your lips. His brows were furrowed, which you matched until he left the finger as the boy looked back once more. 

“I’ll see you around, guys!” he exclaimed, eyes sliding to you before opening the door, and leaving the studio.

After a few seconds of silence, you faced your friend, who had the audacity to sigh in relief. “What the fuck was that?”

The man shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do!” you finished the last of the coffee, throwing the empty cup in the bin nearby. “Why were you being such a dick to Jisung?”

“No I wasn’t,” he only said. “I was being the perfect gentleman.”

“Stop it, man!” You couldn’t believe his stupidity in the situation. “He was being so lovely, asking for your opinion on his music, inviting us to his party and shit. Why were you being so mean?” 

Chan only shook his head, turning away from you as he made to put his headphones on. You, on the other hand, were not going to be satisfied with silence, and grabbed his arm, wrenching him toward you. “Chan?!”

He turned to look at you, and you hitched in a breath — you had never really pondered over your friend’s angered face, nor really drank in his heightened features before. However, in this moment in time, with his eyes darkened, bare face twisted, frizzy morning curls all over the place, you had to stop yourself from the butterflies fluttering downwards. You’re supposed to be mad, not horny.

Your hand upon his arm — his tensed bicep, specifically — seemed almost feeble now. Still, you were glad it was on there, if only to feel his muscle bulge.

Chan studied you and your dazing, and made you jump when he guttered. “What?”

Instantly getting back to the situation, you cursed yourself silently for letting your desires try to take the reins. “I said,” you continued, trying your hardest not to be fazed by his eyes, “Why are you being such a massive prick to Ji?”

He cocked his head slightly, and if he leaned any further his lips would brush against yours. “I’m being a massive prick, ____, because he really fucking likes you.”

You felt hands upon your waist, tugging you off your seat. With a yelp you found yourself upon the man’s lap, hands encircling you fully.

Even though you looked down at him, his stare had you shaking. “And that really fucking pisses me off.”

You couldn’t suppress a shudder, an action which had not gone unnoticed. A smile ghosting his face, he craned his neck upwards, catching your lips and rendering you completely at his mercy. Your fingers went straight in his morning curls, carding through the locks as he captured your bottom lip in his, sucking on it to the point a whine escaped you, helpless and shameful. 

He left a trail of heated kisses down your throat, fingers skirting underneath your cardigan, your shirt, and savouring the skin. His mouth landed on a particular part, grazing his teeth against it as he softly nipped at the skin. Your breath quivered at each flushed kiss he branded upon you, but when his free hand began undoing the top buttons of your shirt, you finally called out his name.

“Chan!” you gasped out, shivering at the lovebites stinging your throat. It did not seem like the man would stop, unbuttoning your shirt just so he could glimpse the sliver of your lacy bra, humming with satisfaction. “Chan, w-wait!”

He paused his actions, tilting his head upwards in irritation. “Do you mind?” he asked, pouting too cutely for his words.

“Yes, I do,” you answered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Why are you so mad, buddy?”

A harsh scoff was your reply. “Well, first of all, because you never stop calling me that.” 

You pinched the back of his neck, but when he pursed his lips, you leaned in, pressing your forehead against his. “Chan, you’re overreacting. He’s just a motherfucker trying to gain your approval.”

“I think it’s more your approval,” he countered, nuzzling his head against your shoulder. “With the way the asshole can’t keep his name out of your mouth. God! And the way he held your hand? Like you were his one and only?!”

“Jealousy isn’t a cute look on you, hun,” you mused, but in reality, you were lying through your teeth. His jealousy was like fuel to your turned on fire.

“Permission to punch him in the face?” 

“You might have to put a hold to that.” 

“Fuck.”

Raising his head, his agitation grew in his eyes as you beheld him. “He just...goddammit, he just makes me so angry at times.”

You played with his curls. “How angry?”

He held onto you tighter. “9/10.”

That certainly made you do a double take. 

9/10. A rare rating, you noticed with quite some surprise. It did reflect the fury which Jisung unintentionally ignited, but you did not realise how much it truly affected him. The two had always been friends, as far as you were concerned, but you had to admit that Chan never really felt as easy with him as he did with you.

Of course, because you were his closest friend.

“I know,” he said then, snapping you out of your thoughts. “It’s...unreasonable...but I don’t care. I really don’t give a shit.”

Clamping your lips together, you watched him look away, swaying you back and forth upon his lap. Well, you couldn’t have a dear friend sulking away when you knew Jisung meant nothing and less to you.

Suddenly, a very pleasing idea came to mind. 

“Chan,” you murmured, fingernails grazing against his neck.

 Sensing goosebumps form there, you were met with his undecipherable gaze. “Yeah?”

You brushed a chaste kiss to his forehead. “How about,” you began, trailing down to his nose, “I help…” you carried on, another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Soothe your irritation?”

Although completely compliant to your touches, he grumbled, “The only way you can do that if you consent to me giving Jisung a broken nose.”

“Hmmm…well...” you peppered another kiss, and felt his hands wander lazily once again. “This is a very close second.”

Catching the implications dwelling in your gaze, you could have sworn the man’s breathing halted. His tongue swept along his teeth, and you had a dire wish to replicate that action with your own tongue.

“Come here, then,” he guttered.

The lower octave had you nearly squealing as you pressed your lips fully onto his, giggling when he responded with twice more ardency, the desperation lurking beneath his physique. He pried your mouth open with his tongue, swirling it along with yours as he pressed your body completely against his, refusing to let you go. 

On instinct you grinded against him, sensing the outline of his boner beneath you with no small amount of excitement. He groaned into your mouth at the friction, digging his fingers into your skin.

It was a dire shame you had to break away from the kiss, catching his disappointment. “Tease,” you heard him mumble, which had you pecking his lips quickly before sliding your own down his neck, leaving his skin altogether.

Slumping downward, you kneeled before Chan as he spread his legs before you, struggling down his black trousers till he revealed the angry outline of his erection underneath his dark boxers. You noticed, with pride, how the top of the fabric was stained with arousal. 

“I think your dick is angrier than you around Jisung right now,” you said, failing to contain your amusement. 

Chan’s eyes promised murder. “I’m so glad my cock will shut your stupid mouth up,” he jeered. 

Thank God you were kneeling, cause that comment alone would have made you fall.

Shuffling closer, you raised your hand to his boxers, feeling his clothed length between your fingers. The touch had your friend growling much too loud, a reaction you enjoyed thoroughly. 

“How about a little less teasing,” he seethed, gripping onto the arms of his chair, “And a little more sucking, baby?” 

Baby. You didn’t know why now, of all times, it struck a deep chord within you. His command had you reaching for the waistband, pulling his boxers down until his cock sprang free. 

The image had you remembering your Lord and Saviour. 

You don’t know why you kept forgetting how insanely big Chan’s cock really was. Its length was inside of you on almost a daily basis, so maybe all this foolery had finally gotten to your head. Observing it now, hard and veiny as it curved against his stomach, the only reaction you could offer was your mouth breaking its seams. 

“Staring at it won’t be enough, ____.”

Gulping, you planted one hand upon his leg, the other wrapping around the shaft. Even the slightest contact had the man hissing, making you smirk at his helplessness. Slightly gurgling, you spat on the head, lubing his member with your fingers, and then you began.

A string of groans escaped him as you commenced, a slow rhythm of pumping his cock as your hand moved up and down. The repetition was constant, neverending as Chan’s grip on his chair threatened to snap the plastic, but you dared not slow down. You knew this was not how he gained his satisfaction — he needed a perfect graduality, a refined art-like stroke or else he’d lose his high. Fortunate for him, though, you never let him down.

You increased your pumping, sensing him containing his moans. You could feel him holding back, but that didn’t stop you at all. In fact, that only had you progressing to the next step, an action that would have him screaming your name.

Shifting even closer, you spread his legs further, Chan’s eyes rooted to you as you directed the tip to your mouth. Letting your tongue free, you swept it along the shaft, and sure enough, an obscenely loud moan emitted from his truly. Chuckling, you carried on, trailing all the way up to the head and ending your journey with an ironically chaste kiss. Staring up at him, you smugly observed his lust-struck face, mouth releasing irregular breaths already. You couldn’t wait to have him curse at you.

Eyes back on the task at hand, you grabbed the base of his cock, opening your mouth. Slowly, aggravatingly slow, you sunk down, taking in inch by inch — Chan pushed his hips forward, and you nearly gagged at the impact of his head hitting the back of your throat. 

“Shi-shit baby,” he sputtered, watching you in awe at your work. “You better tell me if you don’t want your throat fucked.”

You answered him with your progression, slowly releasing his cock from your lips, tongue licking his slit before descending back on him again. You tried to be slow — you didn’t want to go straight to deepthroating, but the way Chan choked out his curses was sweet encouragement. Holding his dick still, you began bobbing your head and down, shallow at first, testing the waters.

When the man instinctively began bucking his hips, pushing his cock into your mouth further, you opened your jaw wider, taking in the remaining inches. The gag reflex kicked in like a bitch, but you refused to cease your labour as you increased your pace. Chan leaned in a little, caressing your cheeks as he rutted against your mouth.

“God, you’re fucking perfect, baby,” he cooed breathlessly. “So good for taking my cock like that.”

Unable to smile, you answered him with your hands, now playing with his balls, slapping them slightly to make him groan out in pleasure, head laid back against the chair. “I’m close, ____,” he warned, never stopping his own thrusts. You hoped he never would, when his end was so near.

Taking all of him in, you pressed your hands on his legs, urging you to look at him. With one final home run, you hollowed in your cheeks, surrounding his entire cock in your mouth as you imprisoned him with your hooded gaze.

The image of you, a beautiful ruination, was his undoing. 

Chan let out a vicious string of curses as he released, ropes of cum spilling inside your mouth. He slumped into the chair, breathing in the entire county’s worth of oxygen as all energy left him. This time, to add to his lust-driven shock, you swallowed his release, thanking your lucky stars that your friend finally listened and ate some fruit. His cum, at last, tasted more than bearable. 

After a few silent moments, the man finally raised himself from the dead, sighing as he beheld you kneeling still. “I think I can’t live without you.”

Chuckling, you heaved yourself up, legs unsteady. “That’s just your inner horny speaking,” you said, nearly falling over on your own feet. Quickly, Chan brought you back onto his lap again, creating an iron grip around you.

“Think what you like,” he began, peppering small kisses on your neck. “But your head game is stronger than my will to punch Jisung, that’s for sure.”

You hummed as he plunged his teeth upon a certain spot, pressing your legs together. “It better be.”

Finding your lips, he lazily kissed you, hands skirting higher as you move your mouth against his, never tired from his touches. 

“Have we christened the studio yet?” The man asked in between kisses, pushing his chair forward till your back hit the table. 

You shook your head no, already sensing his unbearable grin. You could not help returning his enthusiasm.

And as you both continued in your shameless arrangements, there was one thought that lingered in your head. 

There was absolutely no way you were going to that party. 

OF COURSE YOU WERE GOING TO THAT PARTY.

You looked to the building, the whole ground floor alight with different, ever-changing lights, and a dim pandemonium welcoming your ears. Your phone pinged with messages, but you dutifully ignored them, taking a deep breath as you took a step inside.

Greeted with a half-full hallway, it was not hard to find the party house, greeting awkwardly to a few drunk acquaintances before entering Jisung’s dorm. You were instantly hit by the smell of sweat and alcohol as the noise of popular music made your ears ring in discomfort. An abundance of students were cramped as they danced along to the tunes, screaming and laughing and simply enjoying themselves. 

While observing the scene, a small part of you wished your best friend was with you, an arm slung around you as he makes a comment on the specific people dancing rather terribly in the centre. You could already imagine him in his Friday attire, midnight-kissed with gold chains dangling off his belt, rings adorning his fingers and a little makeup to elevate his already exquisite features. Maybe, if you had insisted, he would have let you paint his nails, something which you adored on him. 

Fuck, you thought, searching through the crowd for a place to get a drink. Maybe you shouldn’t have come. 

You shook your head, though, beginning to squeeze through the partygoers. No. You can’t let Chan win in this.

And so you found your way to the kitchen, cans of beer, vodka and tequila stacked in broken pyramids to drink away. Just as you made to grab the Smirnoff your hand brushed against another’s. You turned to the direction, and beamed to see Jisung holding out the can for you.

“____!” he exclaimed, barely heard from the commotion yet could feel his joy radiating from him. “Don’t you have a thing with Chan on Fridays?”

“Well, that can happen every Friday, Ji, but your party was only today,” you answered him, and he was more than satisfied. 

He grabbed the same drink as yours, cracking it open as he looked at you, stare lingering upon your black dress. “I’m really glad you came, love.”

You blinked at the sudden endearment, but before you could say anything Changbin had interrupted the both of you, threatening to bring the roof down with his whining.

“Pleeease Ji, get me away from her!” he begged, holding onto Jisung’s arm and rocking it back and forth. “She keeps tryna drag me into the bedrooms and I can’t do it with her, bro!”

The boy adorned hints of irritancy, but he let himself be led by his friend, glazing at you. “Wait for me,” he requested.

His answer was a little wave, which he returned dutifully as he began to berate his friend for tearing him away from you. Raising your eyebrow, you turned back to the alcohol, finding some soda water and pouring it into the empty cups along with the Smirnoff. You would have drank the vodka straight from the bottle but you decided against drinking your tits off tonight. You didn’t really have a great desire for intoxication. 

You cursed at a few passersby as they bumped against you, nearly knocking the drink off your hands. Fixing your dress, you took the first sip, relishing the strong taste. The songs kept changing, the dancing getting wilder, and at this rate you knew someone was going to get handsy soon. 

Drinking away, you snapped the cup on the table beside you, waiting for Jisung to come back. 

Why did you even come here? 

You instantly soured at the thought.

Still, you could not help pondering further.

You should have stayed home. With him.

You groaned out loud.

It was ridiculous how you were unable to have any idea which didn’t centre around that prick. If he did not want to join you that was on him. 

Then were you feeling miserable?

Great. You poured yourself some more diluted vodka. Now you’re a full-time simp.

That helped you down the drink some more. At least this time, in fortunate circumstances, you were not a lightweight, and so were still completely aware of your surroundings. 

Aware enough to see a more tousled Jisung stagger toward you, giggling like a little child. 

You watched him lunge towards the tequila cans and crack one open, downing half the thing in one go. “Careful, Ji, or you’ll fall to your death!” you warned him, laughing as he exhaled with great exaggeration. 

He staggered to where you were standing, slumping against the wall and taking another can. “I’m so sorry!” he simpered, much too loudly for your sober ears. 

You raised a brow, about to ask him for what but he was already answering your question. “I made you wait so looong!” he dragged, drinking some more. “Look at you! Leaving you all alone.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly, crossing your arms, drink still in hand. “Just say I have zero friends.” 

“Hey, don’t say that!” You were taken aback by Jisung grabbing onto your arm, pulling him to you. He looked you dead in the eyes, wide and alive. “You do not have zero friends!” he declared, louder than before. “I’m your friend.”

Your poor ears hurt like a bitch, but you smiled at his words. “Yes, indeed you are,” you said in earnest. “Thank you, Jisung.”

It was then he blinked slowly, parting his lips as his fingers upon your arm began to wander. “But I wish you didn’t think like that.”

His touch did not go unnoticed at all. You looked at him, raising a brow, but that action went unnoticed. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, you’re a smart girl,” he slurred, voice still soft and innocent as his hand travelled to your shoulder. “You know exactly what I mean.” 

Freezing up, you felt the pads of his fingers caress your face. When he tilted his head, you finally saw what he had been trying to show you since the start of the year, the emotions he was too drunk to hide any longer. 

Lust. Pure lust swirling in his eyes. 

It was like a lightbulb had finally switched on in your grape-sized brain.

“Oh my God!”

Instantly, you pressed your hands to Jisung’s chest, pushing him completely off. He nearly fell flat on his ass, but grabbed the table just in time to stagger back to balance. He glanced upwards, and you saw his eyes widen.

“____?” he got out, but you raised a finger, which he was still intelligent enough to figure out to shut up.

“Ji, what the fuck?” You slapped your drink down on the table, making him jump. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, taking another can. “But it’s the truth, damn it, and I’m tired of having to pretend all the time about it!”

Fuck, you suddenly thought, realising that you needed to get out of this crammed residence. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Jisung, look—” you started, but he groaned out loud, waving off your answer.

“No, no, I know what you’re gonna say.” He then did a terrible impression of you, simpering, “Oh, Ji, I can’t go out with you because I’m soooo in love with my best friend in the whole wide world!”

You snapped your head to his direction. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me clearly!” He finished off his nth can. “Okay, maybe it isn’t a Romeo and Juliet shit going on, but I know something is going on between you two!”

A laugh huffed out of you, but the boy was not convinced. “We’re just friends. Good friends, that’s all.”

Your answer was a hysterical bout of laughter, confusing you even further. “Come on, ____. I’m stupid, but not completely braindead.”

He took a step closer to you, careful of your hands still. “I know Chan practically adores you.”

This little statement made your shit freeze. “Stop it,” you murmured.

“Why?” he demanded. “Because I’m saying something the both of you refuse to listen to?” 

“It’s none of your business,” you snapped. “Don’t get mad because I don’t wanna go out with you.”

“I’m not mad because of that.” With one last tequila can, he grabbed it, turning on his heel. “I’m mad because the both of you keep lying to yourselves.” 

Before you could counter back, the boy stumbled away from you, hollering to the crowd to leave some space on the dance floor for him. You wondered for a second how he’d handle dancing when he could barely walk properly, but then your thoughts drifted back to the more dire subject at hand.

“Fuck,” you cursed out loud this time. 

There it was. The question you should have addressed ever since you started this arrangement with Chan.

Were you really just friends? 

You knew the question to that yourself. Both you and him had transcended past that point now, and in a horrifying realisation, you didn’t mind it that much. After experiencing his touch, his whispers, you doubt that you could ever see him as a friend again. 

But...to be more?

Fuck indeed. You had a lot to think about tonight.

“But first,” you muttered, “To be out of this stupid party.” 

Quickly, after taking two Smirnoff cans, you squeezed past the million drunkards, making your way to the exit. When you were out of the residence, you breathed in the cool night air, a rarity in these sweaty dorm rooms. 

You had a small hope, as you walked down the lanes, that Chan would be there, right at the entrance as you left, but he was not there. He had a little habit of going wherever you were supposed to be if you were not home at the expected time, worried sick if you had drank or done something more stupid than usual. 

But he was not here today. Maybe going to Jisung’s party made him extremely pissed.

There was a reason he rated it 9/10.

Soon, you were at your building, entering inside and finding your door at the very end of the hallway. Fishing out the keys, you slid them into the lock, careful of the cans, hearing the click! of the unlocking.

Your hand rested upon the doorknob. Eyes staring at the lifeless colour of the door, you closed your eyes, letting out a deep breath.

Stop worrying. Chan is your best friend.

You turned the knob.

Your best friend.

Pushed the door open. Stepped inside.

Right?

“Back so soon?” 

Your body shivered at the words. Quickly walking inside the living room, you found the back of the sofa greeting you as per usual, with Chan’s head peering on top as he watched the TV. Walking further, you noticed yours and his favourite show playing on the screen.

“Yeah, it was quite boring, but the real question is,” you began, irritation marring your features, “Why are you watching this without me?” 

He didn’t even glance back at you, nor pause the TV. “Oh, I don’t know, ____, maybe because it’s Friday night, and it’s our thing to do this every time? Do tell me if I’m wrong!”

“Shut up, Chan,” you seethed, dumping the Smirnoff on the coffee tables in front of him. “This is the one time I missed this, so stop being such a baby.”

“Oh, so you tell me to shut up,” he jeered, snapping the remote on the table, making you jump slightly. “Fine, I’ll shut up. You won’t hear a word from me again.”

You took a glimpse of his face, and caught this cold fury simmering beneath his skin. Oh no. Had you going to Jisung’s party made him this angry? It was beyond nonsensical now. Bang Chan was the most reasonable man you ever befriended.

Taking in the emotions inhabiting on his face, however, proved otherwise.

I know Chan practically adores you.

The memory brought chills all over you again. 

Making your way into the kitchen, you figured to make yourself a midnight snack, hearing the crack! of a can opening behind you. Asshole, you refused to voice out loud, but opened the fridge, taking out leftovers and heating it up in the microwave.

“Anything interesting happened, then?” you heard the dry question travel to you. 

Scoffing, you turned, taking out your food. “Oh, I thought I wasn’t hearing a word from you again.”

Your best friend’s smile was anything but sweet. “Well, I figured if you weren’t going to tell me things, I had to ask you myself.”

That snatched any faux amusement you might have harboured. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“You know what the fuck that means!” he snapped, getting up from the couch, pausing the screen. “I can’t believe you’re not telling me.”

“How about a little less attitude and a little more truth, you prick,” you rebuked, putting the cartons on the kitchen counter. 

“Fine, I’ll tell you the truth that you’re too much of a pussy to say yourself!” He thundered into the kitchen, Smirnoff still in hand. 

You backed up against the counter when he caged you with his glare. “Since when did you start going out with Jisung?”

Instantly your brows furrowed. “Who the fuck told you that?” 

“Shit, I knew that bastard wanted to get in your pants,” he roared. “And you let him use you!”

“Woah, woah, buddy, slow down there!” You raised your hands in objection. “I’m not dating Jisung!”

“What?” He took a gulp of the vodka, confusion mixing with his fury. “You’re not?”

“Of course not, the fuck?! Who told you this?”

“He—” but then the cogs turned in Chan’s head, and suddenly it made sense to him. “Oh, for Christ’s sake!”

“What happened?” you asked, but he was drinking some more, cursing himself for even believing such nonsense. “Chan?”

“That son of a bitch called me before you came,” he started, swirling his drink in the can. “And I don’t know why he did, but he kept telling me to back off from you.”

You let out a low curse, but your friend was not finished. “I told him to get some sleep, cause clearly he wasn’t right in the head, but then...he said some words which literally shut me up.”

Then, you saw him hitch in an uncertain breath. “____, he bragged that he asked you out and...and you said yes.” 

His reaction had you widening your eyes, mouth parting just a little. “And, damn it, I thought that this is why she’s so nice to this little fucker, giving him my coffee, or missing Friday night for his stupid party. Hell, even suggesting him first to be her friends-with-benefits.

“Because maybe she liked Jisung all along.”

You watched in horror as he finished his drink, crumbling the can and throwing it in the bin beside you. A shuddered breath escaped you at the explanation, but you sucked it in once more when you blinked back the sheer intensity of this man’s stare. 

“So...yeah.” He ruffled his hair, breaking the stare as he looked away, face flushing with colour. “That’s why I just...yeah.”

A small part of you melted at his words, and his now embarrassment after expressing his desperate worry for you and your potential relationship.

Still, you had some problems that needed solving. “Chan, then why were you so angry at me?!”

You crossed your arms. “You didn’t even wait to hear what I had to say on the matter.”

“I don’t know, okay?!” he exclaimed, propping his hands to his sides. “I heard Jisung saying all that bullshit, and at the time I was so pissed that…”

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d go out with him, you dumbass!”

“Well, I don’t know, he’s just such a nice guy like you keep saying, and all that flowery poetry for him just went straight into my head!” 

The situation almost seemed comical now. “Oh my God, did you really think I liked him?!

“Of course” he cried out, slapping his hands on the counter top next to you, unable to let you escape. As if you even wanted to. “Of course I thought that or else I wouldn’t be shitting my pants all night!”

“Then you’re the dumbest fucking prick I’ve ever met!” you screamed, as you grabbed hold of his hoodie, pulling him closer to you. “Because I don’t like him!

“I like you!”

“Well, I like you too, you stupid bitch!” 

The confession had you both stopping, preventing the two of you going deaf from your shouting. The whole fight was completely ridiculous, but when you looked at each other, drinking in the words that just left your lips, the realisation finally dawned on you. 

I like you too.

Well, shit. There it was.

The one thing you’d been hiding ever since you decided to fool around with him. 

Maybe this was the last way you wanted to tell him, shouting out your declaration to prove his suspicions wrong. It was almost like something out of an unfunny American sitcom — this weird, comic deflation, but at least it was out in the open now.

You had finally told him of your feelings. 

A pinch of that anger brewing within his features settled a little, hands still fisted on your sides. His eyes darted on every point of your face, as if he’s trying to memorise every inch, every detail etched upon your skin. 

Although his blatant awe made you flustered, the aching inside spoke for you. “Are you going to keep staring all night or just kiss me already?” 

God, you were such a bitch.

Chan seemed to think so too. “Nevermind, I fucking hate you,” he snarled, capturing your lips with his in an instant. You smiled against his mouth as you kissed him back with the same intensity, the same need which spread like wildfire in your body.

Kissing him should have become a routine with the amount of times you did it, but every locking of your lips with his sent you in a frenzy, lust-driven emotions spiralling out of control. You welcomed his tongue inside your mouth, the strong taste of tequila and desperation enlivening your inner workings, heightening your need for him, him, and only him.

His hands had no restrictions — the pads of his fingers had their very own needs, their own desire to feel every crevice of your body, your every curve and corner till you have no secret stored in your figure which they did not know of. You welcomed their ravaging, embraced their interrogation as they tried to uncover everything you held dear. 

Once these hands found a weakness in the form of your dress altogether, they cleverly found an opening, reaching for the end of your dress lined at your thighs. His fingers hitched the hem upwards, skirting it higher until it bunched at your waist, revealing a red, silken thong, embroidered with black thread. You relished in Chan practically salivating all over the image, but his lust slapped him out of his dazing, and hurried to get it off, hands slipping it down your legs until it was discarded on the kitchen floor. 

In an instant the man thrust two fingers inside of you, stretching your walls and creating a hypnotic rhythm of removing and inserting them back again. Your moans could bring down the whole residence, but none of you cared when Chan was scissoring you with his digits on the kitchen counter, desire radiating off his stature, and a determination to completely ruin you stark on his face. 

“M-more!” You begged, knowing you could take it, and you were rewarded with a third finger, filling you up as you cried out in pleasure. His mouth quietened you, sucking on your lower lip and then taking all of you, had you delirious, but this insanity only progressed as the thrust of his fingers hit lighting speed. 

The three digits had quickened your potential release, right on the tip of your cunt if he did not stop. “I’m g-gonna—fuck—!” 

You were interrupted as Chan’s lips left yours, trailing down to your neck, collarbone, brushing his teeth between your chest as he fell to his knees. Pulling you forward, on the edge of the countertop, he spread your legs apart, cock twitching at the drenched cunt which awaited him, like a feast displayed for a starved, wild animal. 

Looking up at you, he growled, “Cum when I say so, understand?”

Your hurried nods was all he needed as he dove right in, tongue sliding up your slit, lapping up your arousal as if it was an eternal cure. He fastened his stroke as he welcomed in his sight your clit, swiping his tongue along the bud. 

You moaned out his name like a cry for help, and he answered at first ring when his fingers still laboured, faster and faster, along with his heavenly tongue licking your clit like ice cream on a summer's day. 

“Chan, please—!” You choked out, one hand carding through the man’s hair, driving his face deeper into your cunt. “Please, I need to cum!”

Completely ignoring you, he carried on his ravishing, making you shake your legs to a point your body was beyond your control — you were at his mercy when his head was between your legs, when he prodded at your core as if it was no one else’s but his. 

When Chan brushed against your g-spot, it took every muscle in your body not to cum on his face then and there. He was being cruel; this was punishment for going to that party, justice for choosing Jisung’s company over his.

You did not know punishment felt so pain-stakingly amazing. 

Calling out his name for the last time, you knew that if the man carried on, you would go against his wishes and free yourself of the burden pushing down on your gut. Gripping onto his hair hard enough to rip right off, Chan spared a single glance at you from above, licking his lips off your mess.

“Cum for me, baby.”

That was the first time you came that night. Shaking as you freed your juices unto him, he gladly accepting the release. It was like you possessed a vessel of your release, the way you kept it inside for so long. He could never refuse though, when he knew he was responsible for driving you down that road of vulnerability. 

However, even with all of that, you still wanted more. 

And as Chan ascended on his feet, yanking his fingers out of you, he saw it in your eyes. The uncontainable passion. The unadulterated desire. 

All for him. All. For him.

Your best friend’s smile was positively wicked.

“I will completely ruin you, ____.”

He was upon you like a beast, no mercy upon your lips as he bruised them with his teeth, your pleas drowned out by his mouth as he lifted you in his arms. His kisses never ceased as he led you in his bedroom, nearly ripping the hinges at the sheer intensity of slamming his door shut. 

Throwing you on the bed, your breath whooshed out of you at the free fall, heart running miles as you witnessed Chan take his shirt off, his entire chest glistening with sweat, no doubt from the work he put in mere minutes ago. 

Upon you in seconds, his mouth robbed you of any more oxygen, prying it open as he attempted to unzip your dress from the back. Then, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, he tried to loosen the zipping, but the damned thing got stuck in it’s trail, unable to satisfy. 

Letting out an angry growl, he damned the dress when, using his hands at the front, he ripped the fabric in half, completely down to the hem. 

“My dress!” You gasped out, watching him discard the torn fabric as if it were a minor inconvenience in his path.

You were cut off by his mouth, scorching you down to the bone. “I’ll buy you ten more, baby,” he muttered, skimming his hands down your bare sides.

You had the audacity to roll your eyes at his words. “Why do you keep forgetting you’re a college student?”

It seemed Chan did not take kindly to your comment. “Shut your fucking mouth,” he snapped, resulting in you leaking right onto his sheets. 

That kept you wilfully obedient, and rightfully so, when he unclipped your bra, tossing it to the side, and settled upon your breasts. Grinding his clothed cock upon your bare slit, he licked your right nipple, making you whimper out at him. His reply was swirling his finger on your left nipple, toying with your body as if it was his plaything. You would have had a right mind to shout at him if he didn’t bring such euphoria along with it. 

“Chan,” you whispered, gripping onto the sheets as he continued sucking your breasts. “Chan, I...I need you to fuck me already.”

He paused his assault on your bud, raising a groomed brow. “What do you say to that?” He asked, too calmly in a crazy situation like this. 

Of course, he wanted to make you beg. Considering you did not care the least for your self respect, or lack thereof, you completely obliged him, rutting your bare cunt upon his trousers. 

“Please, Chan. Please.”

Hearing the little pleases had him kissing you insane as he urged you to take his pants off. You willingly obeyed, tossing the clothing along with his Calvins, and when his cock sprung me you felt the inside of your mouth water at the sight. 

The man hovered just above you as he positioned his dick right at the entrance, poking between the folds. “Say the magic word, now, baby,” he commanded quietly, and just for the last time, you had to be the most annoying person in the world. 

“Donghyuck!”

The second that damned name slipped out of your mouth, you completely regretted it as instead of making sweet, slow love to you, Bang Chan thrusted his cock so hard into you your whole body flinched with the impact. You couldn’t suppress the whimper that escaped, tears settling in your eyes, but alas, your best friend had little sympathy for you. 

“Bitch,” he seethed, pulling out, widening your eyes only to have him slam his cock back into you, sending you into another universe entirely. 

You envied his strength — you could barely hold onto his arms while his grip on you could probably compete with the Earth’s gravity, stable and safe and inescapable. He imprisoned you in his hold as he pulled out slowly, and then drove back inside, but you wanted to be in this cage, to never leave his midnight eyes that offered something other than rage and lust and humour. You dared not wonder what it might be, but when you closed your eyes, your mind began to ponder, float amongst the stars of ideas and questions which defined your relationship.

As Chan began to fasten his pace, thrusts more erratic, you held onto his dark curls, mouth never refraining every moan and whine which he fucked out of you. There he was, the man who deemed you worthy of being pleasured, despite risking your decade old friendship to see you have the same advantages as any old person who was sexually frustrated.

But this man did not just give you any old advantages ��� he offered the whole world in his hands to you, knelt before you, fulfilled your every waking desire, held onto you before you could ever slip away into the chaos of your mind. Even now, with you getting lost into the galaxies of his eyes, it was solely his hands which were the anchor to reality, a reality he made better by his offer. 

Bang Chan, your very best friend. 

When he caught the tenderness radiating on your face, he could not help stealing a little for himself, moulding his lips upon yours as he pistoned you in the bed. It was perhaps this small warmth, along with his perfect rhythm of his cock that had you crying out, barely able to contain your second release.

You broke away from the kiss, and uttered his name like a prayer. “Chan,” you whimpered, not needing to say anything for him to realise that you were so very near.

He pressed his forehead against yours, unable to keep away from you. “Fine then,” he grumbled. “I’ll go easy on you.

“Cum for me, ____.”

The words weren’t fully out when you stained Chan’s bed with your release, pushing through the tiny spaces in your walls. He, too, let out an aggravated cry as he spilled into you, most mingling along with your cum upon the sheets. 

A heavy silence fell upon the both of you, both of your breathing harmonising with each other in the cold midnight. Chan toppled on the side of the bed next to you, closing his eyes as he breathed from his mouth, chest rising unevenly.

For minutes none of you said anything to each other, simply basking in each other’s peace. You felt the eyes of your best friend, and locked them with yours.

You decided to break the silence first. 

“I’m sorry for saying his name.”

Brilliant. Why would you mention that stupid idol once again? 

Chan, surprisingly, burst into laughter. You were caught completely off guard, but seeing his smile lighten up his face had you reflecting his happiness. 

“You are,” he rasped out, holding onto his stomach, “The most annoying bitch I’ve ever met.”

“Hey!” You exclaimed, smacking him on his arm, which he responded with threats of pushing you off the bed. “You wouldn’t dare!”

His hands were upon you in seconds, steering you at the edge of the mattress. He cackled at your shocked yelping, and you glared at him as he pushed you away from the edge, and into his arms. “Asshole,” you murmured, burying your face in his chest, which he gladly welcomed as he stroked your hair softly with his fingers. 

You both found solace in each other’s embrace for a little while before Chan let go of you. “Hey, I completely forgot, but...I got you something while you were out.”

Your eyes perked up at the idea of a gift, which the man tutted when he noticed. “Greedy whore,” he crowed, getting out of the bed as he strolled to his desk, grabbing a brown paper bag. His marble-cut ass was out for you to see, and you took full advantage, watching it with no small amount of admiration. 

“Enjoyed the view?” He asked innocently as he slithered right back into bed again, offering you the paper bag. Sticking your tongue out at him, you took the offer, opening it up to see what was so special inside.

Catching sight of the gift had you bursting into a smile.

“Chan!”

You whipped the goods out of the bag, hand on your mouth.

The man bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling too wide. “You like it?”

“You like it?” You parroted, already digging in. “Where did you even find these?”

“Oh, I visited my mom earlier in the day, and she got the cookies from the old shop,” he explained, taking one of the sweets for himself. “I instantly thought of you as she gave them to me, so I saved them for you.”

You widened your eyes in affection. These sweets may have been normal, bakery cookies, but they held a significance for the both of you: these cookies were what started the whole trend of you and Chan rating certain objects or situations for each other, and whenever you were on an academic break, you made sure to drag your friend back to our hometown, where you could always grab a dozen of your favourite snack.

“Thank you for these, bud,” you said, eating away the first cookie. “I think they’ve become better than an eight now.”

Chan hummed in agreement, finishing off his one too. Licking the crumbs off his fingers, he then turned to you, a question riddled all over his face. “Hey, ____?”

“Yeah?”

When he didn’t say anything, you focused your attention on him, propping your head on your elbow. You saw with slight surprise that his cheeks were reddening by the second.

“Chan?”

“It’s just…” he raised his hand, holding your own. “I’ve been thinking about…all of this.”

You raised your brows, refusing to reveal the dread rising in your gut. “Us?”

“Yeah, us,” he confirmed, stroking his thumb across your fingers. “Now, remember that you’ll always be my best friend, okay, like I don’t want you thinking that this would be the end of us or something—”

“Get to the point, buddy,” you hurried along, earning a glare from him.

Then, he licked his lips in anxiety, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Hand never leaving yours, he pinned you with a stare, making you even more nervous.

He parted his mouth. 

“____, would you like to go on a date with me?”

You blinked. 

Your delayed reaction had Chan groaning. “Fuck, nevermind, just forget I said anything!” He swiped his hand away from yours, holding his head in shame. “I should have kept my big mouth shut, your bad habits are really growing on me—”

“Yes.”

Your best friend paused. 

Turned, ever so slowly, towards you. 

“What?”

You could not contain your smile as you took his hand once more. “I’ll go on a date with you, you big oaf.”

For a second you truly believed you had killed off Chan with that declaration. Then, his face exploded into pure joy, and he tackled you in a massive hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Oh my fucking God!” he cursed, “Don’t do that to me again!”

You laughed heartily as you put him at arms’ length. “You were the one doing mental gymnastics!” 

Refusing still to let go of you, he played with your hair as he clamped on his lips. “One more thing.”

“Shoot.”

“How good was I?” He looked at you, a vulnerable expression etched onto his beautiful features. “You know...with all of this.”

You stared at him, drinking in his face, his every detail, as if you had all the time in the world. Firstly, you had a right mind to pull his leg one more time, but you feared that if you made fun of him again, he might die of a heart attack.

And you still had many more years of tormenting your best friend.

So you brought him towards you, pressing your lips onto his. He seemed very much obliged to go deeper, but you pulled away just as quickly, offering him a ghost of a smile.

“I think you were a 10/10,” you whispered. “From start till finish.”

Hearing the score, and sensing your sincerity along with it, had him in near tears. He enveloped your mouth with his, backing you against the divan as he expressed his affection within the rhythm of his lips. 

When he pulled away, still mere inches from you, he said the words he’d been meaning to say since the day he first laid eyes on you — since the day you two contacted this system, since the day he knew your rating as if he knew his own name.

“Well, baby, you’ve always been a 10/10 for me.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || His Girlfriend Doesn’t Like You [Request]

A/N: For reference the girlfriends name will be Areum. Also I kept them as just friends because I didn’t know if you wanted fluffy best friends or fluffy relationships so I hope this is okay! If not let me know!

CHAN: 

It was no secret to you that Chan's girlfriend didn't like you but the two of you were best friends, had been since he moved to Korea when he was younger and nothing was going to stop that. No matter how hard she tried, or at least, you thought it would never happen. 

"What's wrong?" You laughed looking at Chan as he walked into the studio you and Jisung were sitting inside of, immediately the atmosphere in the room changed and it suddenly felt like it was hard to breathe as he stared you down. 

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that Areum just came to me with a red cheek," You frowned shaking your head, clearly not following along with what he was trying to say to you but then she walked into the room. A red mark across her right cheek as she let out the fakest tears you'd ever seen, whimpering and sniffling as she pulled at Chan's sleeve. 

"Just take me home, I don't want to be here anymore," She pleaded, looking over at you and for a second you could see her smirking as she realised she was playing Chan like a violin. 

"You slapped her across the face, because...Because-" He stopped as he looked back at Areum, 

"Because I told her I was falling in love with you," You blinked as you stared at them, even Jisung was starstruck by what was being said. You'd been sitting with him for the last two hours waiting for Chan to come for some lunch, he would have seen you if you randomly decided to slap his bitch of a girlfriend. 

"I didn't slap her, why would I?" You scoffed looking at her and then to him, hoping he would see straight through her but as usual, he had his blinders on, where only she was right and everyone else was wrong. 

"I've been here the entire time, I haven't even seen her until now," You got up from the sofa trying to defend yourself but Areum flinched as dramatically as she could before cowering behind Chan who was red in the face. 

"I want you to leave," He spoke bluntly as he waited for you to leave the room but you were still standing there, 

"Chan...We're best friends, surely you don't believe I would do something like this?" You searched his eyes for any sign that he believed you, even a little but it was as if you didn't even know who he was anymore. 

"Why would you even slap her?! You know I'm in love with her," You knew he was which was why you stayed away from her, you didn't want to get in the way of their happiness. Seeing your best friend happy made you happy as an end result, 

"I would never-"

"STOP LYING TO ME!" He yelled out as you backed up, your mouth fell open as you couldn't believe Chan would ever raise his voice at you, or anyone, like that. It wasn't in his nature to scream and yell.

"Leave." He muttered calmly this time, you scoffed at him, getting your bag and turning to leave when Jisung got up from the sofa.

"Hyung!" Jisung tried to say something but you held your hand up to stop him, staring directly at Chan as you spoke to Jisung, 

"Don't. If he wants to believe someone over his best friend, let him. But he can't come crying to me when it all blows up in smoke," You grumbled, slamming the door as you made your way out of it not wanting to be around them any longer than you had to be. 

(X) 

Later in the night, there was a knocking on your apartment door, you knew it was Chan since he had text you that he wanted to talk to you but you ignored him but he was starting to get louder and you didn't want your neighbours complaining. 

"Finally came to your senses?" You questioned as you opened the door to see him sitting on the floor, he stared up at you nodding weakly. 

"Jisung told me that you'd been with him all morning," You nodded, folding your arms over your chest. 

"And it took you all day to come and see me?" He shook his head, stumbling to get up from the floor before he came face to face with you. 

"It took me all day to get her stuff out of the dorms, anyone who doesn't like or can't respect my best friend shouldn't be with me," He smiled at you that big cheesy grin that he normally did whenever he wanted you to forgive him for something he'd done, 

"You've never yelled like that before," You whispered as you moved aside, letting him into the apartment as a sign of peace. 

"I'm sorry...I saw the mark, I heard the story and I just-"

"It's fine, she was your girlfriend, you should have-" You sighed not believing you were saying this, 

"You should have believed her since she was your girlfriend," He smiled wrapping his arms around your shoulder, 

"I bought food but it's cold, I'll order some more, we can watch a movie..." You nodded at his suggestion and pushed the door shut behind you both, heading into your living area space. 

MINHO:

The boys had been acting weird around you for days and it was starting to freak you out, normally when they were being weird it was because they were planning to prank you or something but this time it was different. They were going out of their way to avoid you, purposively changing plans so they wouldn't have to hang out with you, that was until tonight when you caught them going out after they told you they felt too sick to go anywhere. You'd brought them some soup to the dorms when you saw them heading out, deciding you wanted to talk to them you asked Minho to explain everything.

"You've been acting so weird lately, did I do something to piss you off?" You asked as you pulled Minho into his dorm room, you wanted answers and you wanted them now, 

"Why don't you ask your boyfriend?!" You stared at him awkwardly shaking your head as you tried to think of what he was talking about, he never seemed to get this angry in the past whenever you were in a relationship only this time there was no relationship. 

"I'm not-"

"Save it! I know you're dating Felix so why don't you both stop acting as though you're not," You were even more confused at the mention of Felix's name, the two of you had been close but never the dating kind of close. 

"We're not dating-"

"Save it! I don't want to hear it! If you want to go behind my back and fuck my best friends you go ahead and do it, but don't come crawling to me when you're done," He looked at you with a disgusted look on his face that sent a shiver down your spine, he'd never looked at you that way before and you didn't like it, 

"Why would I date Felix and not tell you?" You laughed thinking this was all some kind of joke but Minho wasn't laughing, he had a straight look on his face as he shook his head. 

"Areum caught you together in the studio, you can both stop lying about it to my face." There it was. The name, she had been the reason things between you and Minho had been rocky for months, she was constantly pushing you out of his life so she could spend more time with him but bringing the rest of the boys into it only made your blood boil.

"You can't seriously believe her over me and Lix?" You questioned as he walked away from you, waiting for you to leave the room first but you stayed where you were, wanting to talk this all out with him.

"She's the only one being honest around here,"

"Why do you even care if I was dating Felix?! I thought friends were supposed to be happy for one another, support each other. I have ever since you got with the wicked bitch of the west," You snapped as you finally lost it with him, he pulled the door open with such force that it hit the wall making you jump. 

"Get. Out." You shook your head, sitting down on his bed so you could talk everything out but he didn't move. 

"Get out of the dorms. Don't ever speak to me again," You stared at him as he walked out of the room leaving you alone with nothing but your thoughts. 

(X)

When Minho returned later that night he found you asleep on the sofa in one of his hoodies with the TV running, he turned it off before pulling a blanket over your body. 

"You're home," You whined, sitting up ready to talk to him about it calmly this time.

"I know you told me to get out but I didn't want to end our friendship on bad terms and I didn't want you and Felix to fight...There is nothing between me and Lix. Never has been, never will be-" You stopped talking when Minho wrapped his arm around your waist and laid down behind you on the sofa. 

"Shut up and go to sleep, Areum dropped herself into it," He mumbled as he pulled you closer to him, it was his way of admitting he was wrong without saying it aloud so you took it. Snuggling into your best friends arms and going to sleep for the night.

CHANGBIN:

"I bought snacks and dinner! Move over because the party is here!" You yelled out as you walked into the dorms to greet your best friend who was normally excited to see you but right now he looked beyond pissed off at something, 

"What happened? Jisung and Chan been bullying you all day?" You teased as you sat down beside him on the sofa, hand-feeding him a chip from the bag of fast food you had bought back with you but he ignored you.

"Binnie?" You frowned, waving a chip in front of his mouth but he continued to ignore you staring down in front of him as he was in deep concentration mode. 

"What's up with you?" You frowned, dropping the chip back into the bag and sitting back against the sofa, there was clearly something bothering him and you wanted to know what it was.

"Why have you been spreading rumours about Areum?" You frowned, Areum had been his girlfriend for the last six months but you'd never said anything bad about her or even to her, mostly because she hated you for being so close with Changbin. 

"Binnie, I don't even speak to her, I don't know anything about her to spread rumours about," You tried to defend yourself but he shook his head not wanting to hear your excuses about it as he got up from the sofa, 

"You've always had a problem with her, ever since we started dating! You've been so weird with her when she's been nothing but nice to you," You scoffed at the idea of her even acting remotely nice to you, if constantly throwing digs your way about the way you dressed and acted was nice you didn't want to know her. 

"Please, she's the one that's been nothing but mean since the day I met her, accusing me of being in love with you, calling me names whenever she gets the chance," You rolled your eyes as you got up from the sofa, standing face to face with your best friend. 

"She's been mean to you? I think you'll find it was the other way around, you're always trying to start fights with her, telling everyone that she's this petty girl that always yells at you when in reality it's the other way around." You couldn't stand to him anymore, hearing him take her side over yours after ten years of friendship, 

"I thought you believed me through everything, we're best friends."

"Not anymore, if you can't respect Areum then we're over, I want nothing more to do with you," It hurt more than you were expecting it to, like a stab in the chest as he stared at you blankly, looking into his eyes it felt cold and unwanted so you left the dorms, ignoring Jeongin he called your name out after passing him in the hallway. 

(X)

The more time passed with Areum the more Changbin began to notice her lies, they were painfully obvious and she kept forgetting her stories most of the time until he couldn't deal with it anymore and broke things off. 

"You know you have to forgive me sooner or later," He said as he slid you your favourite hot drink, he'd invited you out to one of your favourite coffee places as a way to say sorry for what he'd done to you. 

"I know, but until then I'm going to take all the free drinks I can," You mumbled, sipping on the drink before looking around the cafe, you hadn't been there since your fight, too scared you would accidentally walk into him and the dragon, 

"Does that mean you forgive me? If you say yes I will buy you food and drinks every day in this cafe for a month," 

"Bribery will get you everywhere," You smirked as took another drink from your cup.

HYUNJIN:

Waking up you rolled over to see Jeongin was passed out beside you, drool running down his cheek so you pushed him away and walked out into the dorms main seating area, Chan was awake on his laptop as usual and Felix was beside him playing some video game on the switch. 

"You stayed over?" Felix questioned looking up at you with a confused look on his face, you walked over to the fridge and took a drink from a carton of juice before going to sit next to him, tiredly laying your head on his shoulder.

"Yeah, why? I always stay over on Friday nights. It's my hiking day with Hyunjin," You reminded him but Felix didn't look convinced as to why you were there, 

"I just meant...Well- Areum said he wasn't allowed to be around you anymore, so I figured you wouldn't-"

"She said what?" The door to Hyunjin's room opened and he came out into the living room tiredly, not noticing that you were sitting there until he sat down.

"You're not allowed to be around me?" You asked with a small laugh to your voice, the thought of not being allowed near your own best friend waking you up as you stared at him. 

"What? Y/n! I told you I was busy this weekend," He grumbled as he looked at his phone with a panicked look on his face, 

"You need to leave, now."

"Why? Is Areum coming over? What's her problem? I'm your best friend," You wanted him to see why you were upset about this, he was constantly ignoring you or putting off plans to be with her which you didn't mind since they were new to their relationship but stopping him from seeing you, was too far. 

"You used to be my best friend, look I can't get into this but you need to leave," You frowned wondering where this was all coming from where there was a knock at the door, 

"Hideout in Jeongin's room until we leave,"

"Why can't we be friends anymore, does she hate me that much?" You questioned but he ignored you, pulling you up and pushing you into the bedroom with Jeongin once again,

"Because she thinks I'm in love with you! I don't want her to think that, so we can't be friends." He was being an idiot, just because a guy and a girl were friends it didn't mean they were in love with each other, 

"Just explain to her-"

"No! Get a grip, we don't need to be friends anymore," He slammed the door leaving you with a scared looking Jeongin,

"Move over." You mumbled as you climbed back into the bed with him, you were close with all of the boys so this was nothing new, last night you'd slept beside Jeongin cause he was the only one home when you arrived. 

(X)

Yelling happened instantly since Areum could tell you'd been in the house, your shoes were all over the floor, your clothes were hanging on the coat peg so she knew you were there. 

"You can come out now," Hyunjin mumbled as he opened the door to Jeongin's room, the two of you had been hiding out in there ever since the shouting began, you didn't want to be the reason they fought but it was over you anyway. 

"She's gone?" Hyunjin nodded and you sighed going over to hug him softly, she'd been accusing him of cheating and lying to her throughout the relationship until it bubbled out that she was the one cheating on him instead, she thought he would do the same thing with you if he ever found out and she wanted you out. 

"She's an idiot if she doesn't realise how amazing you are," You whispered to him, trying to comfort him but he broke down into tears as he hugged you back it was going to be a weekend of making him feel better.

JISUNG:

Jisung had been acting insane for days and it was starting to get to you, he'd been ignoring you and if he wasn't ignoring you he was getting angry over nothing, snapping at you for stupid things that had nothing to do with him. 

"Why are you even here?!" He yelled when he walked into the dorms to see you sitting with Felix and Jeongin,

"Waiting for my turn, we were taking it in turns," You mumbled as you tried to concentrate on watching Felix beating Jeongin in a game of smash bros, 

"You're always following me around and it's freaking me out, don't you have any of your own friends to be hanging out with?" He snapped angrily as he looked at you, you frowned wondering where this was coming from all of a sudden. The two of you had been best friends for years but ever since he'd gotten with Areum he'd changed into a different person, especially towards you. 

"We're friends? We hang out?" You were even more confused as he snapped at you for something you were used to, the two of you used to be inseparable what was his problem?

"Yeah, friends, but you won't more don't you?" He scoffed as he stared at you, you could have sworn you saw a look of disgust flash across his face as he mentioned your crush on him. It wasn't true, Jisung was always like a brother to you there was never another way you could see him.

"I don't have a crush on you, you're like my brother," You stumbled over your words trying not to laugh at the accusation thinking it might hurt his feelings,

"Save it, Areum told me all about your little plan to split us up and it won't work, I'm in love with her," Of course, she had something to do with all of this, she had something to do with everything. You knew he was in love with her but how could he be so blind to her to see what she was doing to your friendship,

"If you could stop stalking me, being around me, clinging to me that would be great." He mocked laughing as he thought it was funny but the rest of the boys were staring at him in horror at the way he spoke to you, laughing at you even though he was supposed to one of your best friends. 

"What? She needs to realise there's never going to be anything between us," The emphasis he put on the "never" in his sentence would have hurt if you did have a crush on him but there was nothing there. 

"He's right, why would he want his best friend who's been there for him for almost everything in his life when he can have a cheap no-good, money stealing hoe around him all of the time," You knew it was wrong to take swings at Areum but you'd finally lost it, you grabbed your bag and began to leave. 

"I'm throwing out the money stealing hoe and keeping my girlfriend," The door slammed before he could finish his sentence but you stormed off, never wanting to speak to him again.

(X) 

It had been months since the incident at the dorms and you hadn't spoken a word to Jisung since you would go out of your way to avoid him and you wouldn't hang out with the guys if they were going to be with him. 

"You have to speak at some point," Minho said cockily as he watched you from the dorms kitchen, it was the winter break so most of the boys had gone home for the holidays except Minho, Felix and Chan so you decided to keep them company. 

"No, I don't. I am perfectly fine in my world without him, I don't know why I ever had a crush on him, he's a no-good-" You stopped speaking when the door to the dorms opened followed by the sound of Jisung's voice filling the air, 

"She's not at her apartment, her boss said she told her not to tell me where she is and now I'm-" Jisung stopped as he locked eyes with you for the first time in months, you gave him a small wave not knowing what else he wanted you to do in this situation but in the end, he sprinted over to you and pulled you into a tight embrace. 

"I missed you, I never should have listened to what Areum was saying, I should have just gone to you and asked you...I didn't need to be so rude about you having a crush on me," You began gasping for air as he tightened his grip before letting go of you, 

"I don't have a crush on you, it was a stupid thing she said to stop us hanging out so much." You said as you stepped away from him, he nodded his head, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I know, I spoke it out with the boys and tried to tell you but you ignored me for months,"

"Do you blame me?" You questioned as he shook his head, promising you that he would do anything to get your friendship back to the level it was at before Areum ruined it all.

FELIX: 

You had no idea what you had done wrong to Felix but clearly, it had to have been something bad for him and the rest of the boys to ignore you for months, you'd tried calling and texting but they never answered you, phones going straight to voicemail. In the end, you gave up trying to call him, if he really wanted your friendship to last he would make an effort, you moved on from things and tried to just do things on your own. 

"Y/n?" You glanced up from reading the bag of flour you had picked up to see Seungmin standing there with a giant smile on his face he suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you tightly. 

"Hey Seungmin," Your voice came out strained, confused as to why he'd ignored you and was now hugging you as he greeted you after so long, 

"We've missed you, where have you been? Felix has been going out of his mind, he said whenever he went to your apartment you were out?" You frowned, no one had been to your apartment, come to think of it Felix didn't even know your new address, you moved shortly before not being able to get hold of him and the boys.

"I tried to call you guys but you never answered, never replied to me texts," You explained to a very confused looking Seungmin who dug out his phone to show you that he hadn't gotten anything from you in months. 

"Just last week I text to tell you Happy Birthday..." You mumbled, taking out your phone to prove to him that you weren't going crazy and so he went through the contact, 

"You have me blocked, that's why...You couldn't call me." You frowned as Seungmin began mumbling about how he would never block you and then it hit you. The only other person with access to all their phones was Areum, Felix's girlfriend who had a disliking for you. Since she started dating Felix she made no attempt to hide the fact that she hated you, going out of her way to make it obvious but this was just a step too far. 

"Is Lix at the dorms?" You questioned, wanting to go there right away so you could straighten everything out between you and someone who used to be your best friend.

(X) 

"Why would Areum do something like that? Just admit you did it! Now you're doubling down on lies because you can't take responsibility for your actions," Felix yelled at you as he stood in the hallway of the dorms speaking with you, you'd tried to talk to him calmly about it but he started yelling from the start of things. 

"Why would I do something so stupid?! I loved hanging out with you and the guys, god I've been worried sick about you, I even created a twitter just to try and keep up with what was going on!" You yelled out, Felix knew how much you hated that app but he shook his head, nothing was going to make him believe his own girlfriend would go to the lengths of blocking your number in everyone's phone just to stop him from seeing you.

"You've just never liked her and can't stand to see me happy," You rolled your eyes at him not wanting to have a fight about someone you didn't care about, 

"You think I care about her? Do what you want, as long as I never have to be around her but don't you dare! Don't you dare blame me for something like this, I'm not the petty one here," You snapped, hanging Seungmin his bag of items you'd carried home from the car for him. 

"You're going to just walk away?!" Felix called out, you turned to look at him shrugging your shoulders, 

"What does it matter? You don't believe me, so why should I stay somewhere I'm not wanted?" 

(X) 

"She admitted to everything," Felix panted as he fell onto your bedroom floor, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. 

"Lix. It's 4 am." You mumbled shutting the window he'd just climbed through, you were on the second floor so he used the balcony below to climb up since he knew you would never open the front door. 

"I knew you wouldn't answer the door,"

"How did you get my address?" You mumbled climbing onto the bed to sit down as he sat up, 

"Seungmin noted it down when you took your shopping home with him earlier," You glared at your phone reminding yourself to kill Seungmin the next time you saw him, 

"Areum admitted to blocking your number...Move over," He shivered, getting under your covers as if nothing had happened, no friendship break and he was just here for a sleepover. 

"You think I'll forgive you this easily, for yelling at me." He shook his head at you, 

"No, but I'll annoy you into it anyway, so just go to sleep." He laughed softly knowing that you could never stay mad at him.

SEUNGMIN:

Seungmin was the type of best friend that would come to you whenever he had a problem, he would come to you for anything that was bothering him which was why he came to you when he first heard about what was going on between Areum and you. The two of you never got along, since she began dating him she would do anything in her power to make sure Seungmin would never be around you without her and when she was with you she would belittle you in front of him without him noticing what she was doing.

"This is going too far, the two of you are supposed to be adults and here you are acting like a child Y/n," You stared at Seungmin dumbfounded as you wondered what he was talking about, it wasn't until he showed you a phone with fake text messages from you that something clicked, 

"That's not me, I-"

"It has your name on it, why are you sending threatening messages to Areum? She's been trying so hard and you do this?" You stared from the screen and up to Seungmin, you could see why he would believe the fake screenshots since they looked so real but it wasn't since you and Areum never exchanged numbers with one another. 

"Why would I ever threaten her? I've been trying to, it's not my fault you only see her as the good guy when she's nothing but a bitch to me," You grumbled without thinking about it first but it was too late, the words were out in the open now and he was staring at you, with an angry look on his face. You'd never seen him look this angry until now, 

"Did you just call my girlfriend a bitch?" You sighed not wanting to turn this into a huge fight but it was out now, 

"Yes! You know what, I did because she is! Do you know how often she belittles me? Makes me feel so small and stupid? All of the time." You told him but he walked away, he ignored you as you continued to list all of the things she'd said and done to you over the course of them dating but he didn't want to hear it so he wouldn't. 

"You only see the good in her but she's always hurting me, always making snide remarks about me," Somewhere inside he knew you were right but he didn't want to believe it, he only wanted to believe Areum because he was hopelessly in love with her. 

"You're making it up," He shook his head but this time you weren't going to let the subject be dropped, it needed to be spoken about so she couldn't get away with it anymore.

"Why would I make something like that up? I know you're in love with her and I know this hurts to hear but she's a bitch, she's always doing it and not just to me but to the boys," Felix was standing in the hallway when he heard what was happening, 

"It's true, she's always making snide remarks about my freckles or Jeongin acting like a baby," You nodded and looked to Seungmin who wasn't saying a word, he just stormed out of the dorms slamming the door behind him as he left. 

(X) 

Hours later Seungmin came back into the dorms with a sad expression on his face and after knowing him for almost nine years you knew what that face was. 

"You ended things?" You whispered, putting down the uno cards so Felix couldn't see what you had and he nodded, 

"I-I'm sorry I didn't see what she was doing to you all before...You're  my best friends, you don't deserve that." He sighed, sitting down beside you as he felt stupid for believing her over you, 

"Don't, you were in love, it's hard to see sometimes when you're in love," You nudged him softly so he knew all was forgiven and then you let him take over for you in the game of Uno.

JEONGIN:

"So you just decided you didn't want to come to my wedding?!" Jeongin boomed out as he walked into the cafe where you worked, luckily it was almost empty besides for the two elderly women in the corner who seemed startled at the sudden yelling, 

"Well, hello Jeongin. Would you like a drink?" You asked sarcastically as he stormed over to the counter and began questioning you on why you hadn't responded to his texts, calls and voicemails about getting married.

"Okay calm down, A) I haven't had a call from you in about a week and B) You're getting married?!" He scoffed at you, 

"As if you didn't know, you've been ignoring me because I decided I wanted to Marry Areum right? She said you'd always hated her and you would never be happy for us," You were still trying to come to terms with the fact that your best friend was getting married and hadn't told you, or at least claimed that he had told you. 

"Jeongin, I haven't had any calls or texts from you for a week, you went off the grid. I assumed you were busy with a comeback," It wasn't unheard of for him to go radio silent whenever there was a comeback coming up, you understood and gave him the space he needed but this was insane. 

"Well I've been calling and texting," He pulled out his phone as proof but you shook your head, 

"That's not my number, someones changed the last four numbers..." You knew who it was but there was no way that Jeongin was going to think it was Areum, in his eyes she could do nothing wrong but in your eyes, she was a witch with a capital B instead of a W through and through.

"Oh-oH I might have done it by accident, I'm sorry I yelled." You shook your head, 

"Are you that naive? Clearly, you didn't accidentally change my number, someone who has access to your phone must have done it," You were trying to hint at the fact that it was Areum but he played the dumb card, breezing over it as he told you the exciting news again but you weren't excited for him. The thought of him marrying Areum sent a chill down your spine, she wasn't nice to anyone except Jeongin, in fact, Felix hated her from the start but never said anything since he never thought the relationship would last.

"Please, you're just jealous that I'm getting married while you're still alone." You dropped the mug you were holding and hot coffee splashed up your legs but you couldn't feel it, you were too busy staring at someone who was supposed to be your best friend.

"What did you just say?" He repeated it again but you shook your head at him, 

"Get out. I hope you're happy in your little bubble Jeongin I really do," You began pushing him toward the exit as he continued to hurl insults about you being jealous of him. 

"Don't worry dear, men like that always come to their senses in the end," The elderly lady commented as you began cleaning up. 

(X) 

Only he hadn't come to his senses, it had been nine months since the last time you spoke to him and through Felix, you learnt the relationship was strong and that they were going through with the wedding.

"Y/n?" You turned around in the cafe to see Jeongin standing there in his suit panting and sweating heavily, 

"Aren't you supposed to be getting married?" He walked up to you and shook his head, 

"I should have listened, I was...I was going to talk to her before we got-" He began breathing heavily so you took him over to a table and gave him some water, 

"She was telling her bridesmaids about how she'd gotten rid of you and how she was going to do the same with anyone who got too close...I should have listened to you," You knew right now was a bad time to tell him you told him so, so you kept your mouth shut. 

"I ran away from the wedding, told her I couldn't do it and ended things." You bit down on our lip feeling bad for him as he sipped on his water, 

"A relationship isn't worth it if I don't get to have my best friend at my side...So...Do I? Still have you by my side?" You smiled softly before nodding, 

"Always. I have some of your clothes at my place, use your key to get in." You said as you softly patted his back and got up to finish your shift. 

Tagline: @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @acciocriativity @mwitsmejk @minholuvs​

[rocorambles]

Two Wrongs Equal a Right

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

Prompt: Eavesdropping

Summary: Eavesdropping isn’t right, but maybe...just maybe sometimes the end justifies the means

A/N: This is for the Anylisum’s SFW collab. Masterlist can be found here. Enjoy!

You giggle, laying your head on Tsu’s shoulder as you catch your breath from the impromptu dance party happening in the dorm room led by no other than Mina. You love the boys, but this is nice, hanging out with just the girls, chatting about fashion and makeup, doing face masks and braiding hair, pretending you’re just normal high school girls and not heroes in training. The boys had sulked, pouting and complaining about why all of you couldn’t hang out together like you always do. But all of you had just smiled and cheekily waved as you locked the dorm room shut behind you.

They’ll be fine. You’re sure they’ll find something to bond over themselves and you laugh at the thought of them doing some impromptu sparring or shouting at each other over a video game.

Yes, they’ll be just fine doing something normal high school boys do. Definitely not quietly crowding around the other side of the dorm door, trying to eavesdrop on what all of you are saying and doing like they’re doing right now.

The boys of class 1-A aren’t nearly as subtle as they think they are accidentally banging foreheads and elbowing each other to try and press their ears against the vertical surface. But luckily for them the combination of the music and your voices drown out their scuffling and they eagerly listen in, curiosity keeping their attention rooted to the commotion on the other side of the barrier.

“That’s not fair. I want to dance too!”

“Shut up, Aoyama! They’re going to hear you.”

The hushed bickering continues as the boys continue to subtly bop their head to the music, trying to make out the snippets of conversation between the rhythmic beat and laughter. But they all freeze, even attempting to quiet down their breathing as the music finally stops.

Is the night over? Do they need to make a run for it before the door opens and they’re caught red handed?

Their questions are answered when after some scuffling and movement the girls resume talking and there’s a palpable sense of relief as the boys relax, leaning in once more to decipher what’s being said.

What girls night would be complete without boy talk? You all knew this topic was bound to come up in this safe all-female haven, but there’s still a tittering of nervous and shy giggles when Ashido brings up the topic with a mischievous grin plastered across her face.

It takes some prodding and some patience, but to no one’s surprise Uraraka is the first to speak up and you all smile knowingly when she begins to ramble on and on about Deku, how much she respects him, how observant he is, how hardworking he is…

“We get it. You like Deku! Seriously it would be shocking if you two didn’t eventually start dating.”

“Think about how cute that would be! A romantic hero couple fighting villains and saving the world together.”

Uraraka’s face is so red you think she might burst, but you hide a smile at the fact that there isn’t even a hint or sound of denial from her as she accepts the good-natured teasing. Unknown to all of you, Deku’s face matches Urarka’s extreme shade of red and the boys smile and nudge him playfully, waggling their eyebrows teasingly.

The light-hearted banter has broken the ice and Momo is the next one to open up, demurely looking at the ground and swiping a stray bang behind her ear as she quietly praises Todoroki for his amazing skills and how rapidly he’s learned and improved during his time at U.A. But what she isn’t expecting is the outpouring of support she herself receives from all the girls about how smart and resourceful she is and how quick on her feet she is. And Todoroki silently nods his head in affirmation of the deserved recognition she receives.

One by one everyone shares their thoughts on their male counterparts, but it’s Ashido who makes everyone burst into laughter once more when she practically screams her approval of Kaminari and Kirishima and how cool and manly they can be, imitating their signature moves as best as she can to everyone’s amusement.

However it doesn’t go unnoticed how Bakugo’s name isn’t brought up and it just seems right to bring him into the conversation if the other two musketeers are being discussed. There’s thoughtful pondering and the girls quiet down as they think of their blonde classmate.

“He’s smart and talented.”

“He’s pretty good looking.”

But there’s an almost unanimous vote that his temper is a little bit...scary. Almost.

The boys try their hardest to stifle their howls of laughter as Bakugo begins to deeply scowl, looking like he’s ready to storm away. But everyone shuts up, eyes going wide when your voice travels through the air.

“I actually think his attitude is kind of cute. He’s like an angry chihuahua. All bark, no bite.”

There’s silence as everyone on both sides of the door processes your words, even Bakugo looks uncharacteristically stunned. And then there’s chaos as the girls begin to loudly question your sanity and the boys hold back a raging Bakugo who’s seconds away from kicking down the door and confronting you.

Needless to say there is no more eavesdropping done that night as it takes the entire male population of 1-A to wrestle Bakugo away and safely back to his dorm room.

Cute? CUTE?

Bakugo can’t remember the last time anyone has called him that damned word, if anyone ever has. Not even his own mother has called him anything remotely as nauseatingly endearing as that recently. There’s nothing about him that’s cute. He’s not cute. He HATES anything cute. Yet as he’s barricaded in his room and forced to mull over your words in solitude, it’s not pure rage and indignation that fills him to his own surprise.

He’s not sure exactly what he’s feeling if he’s honest and that only pisses him off more. Anger is something he knows and holds close. But this...this strange, disgusting, fluttering feeling in his stomach? He doesn’t know what that is and he grumpily forces himself to sleep, to leave all these stupid thoughts and feelings behind him. Tomorrow will be just another day of class and you’ll just be another classmate he’s forced to tolerate as he focuses on becoming a hero.

Except tomorrow does come and you aren’t just another nobody like you were before.

Unlike before where he barely even noticed your presence and walked past you like you were nonexistent, too focused on perfecting his moves, he can’t stop being aware of you. He finds himself watching you without even meaning to, observing your movements, the use of your quirk…

“Kacchan, watch out!”

Turns out even when he’s entranced by you, Deku’s damn annoying voice is enough to drag him out of his funk and he narrowly misses the debris about to rain down on him.

“What’s up, Bakugo? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you distracted-”

“I’m not distracted!”

He is distracted and he can feel his short fuse nearing its limit with every uncharacteristic stumble and sloppy movement as he can’t tear his eyes from you. And when Aizawa-sensei awkwardly tells him to maybe consider sitting out a bit until his head is clear he loses it.

Under all the rage, common sense tells him this isn’t your fault, that he’s wrongly directing his ire at you. But Bakugo clings onto his temper, that fire inside of him that fuels most of his decisions as he storms towards you and shouts at you to spar with him.

He knows he’s being too hard on you, punching and kicking you harder than he even goes against Kirishima and his hardening quirk. And he even feels a pang of guilt when he sees you wince when his fist grazes you as you try to dodge. But you don’t tell him to stop, just looking at him with determined, focused eyes holding a shocking amount of trust that he won’t take it too far and actually harm you despite how his irritation is almost visible.

It’s the same look stupid Deku looks at him with, but he doesn’t feel that familiar buildup of anger rising inside of him. Instead he feels that same strange fluttering feeling deep inside of him and his heart is racing more than it should be for the amount he’s worked out today. It’s all so...confusing and to everyone’s shock, it’s Bakugo who abruptly ends your weird impromptu spar with a scoff, shoving his hands in his pocket as he saunters away, trademark scowl on his face.

That’s only the beginning of Bakugo’s strange behavior and everyone watches anxiously as the angry blonde borderline begins to bully you on a constant basis, practically hovering next to you from the moment you leave your dorm room to the minute you go to sleep at night, growling, shouting, and even just glaring at you. But no one steps in, curious about how things will play out when they see how unbothered you are by your new volatile shadow.

Bakugo doesn’t know what reaction he expected of you. Maybe a slight hint of fear? At least some respect? But he certainly wasn’t expecting how calmly you accept your new fate, how casually you interact with him.

He’s forced to silently blink in shock as his jaw rapidly works to chew the fried egg you’ve stuffed in his mouth when he angrily tells you to sit somewhere else, deciding he wants your seat despite the bounty of empty chairs surrounding the both of you in the cafeteria. (He ends up just grumpily sitting in the available spot next to you when he finally swallows, both of you quietly munching on your breakfast together.)

But although your exchanges start off fairly one-sided with Bakugo usually trying to incite some reaction from you, everyone watches in amusement when you begin to meet him halfway. The blonde is mouthing off at you about something or another during sparring exercises which has become a typical background noise to the class by now, but everyone, including Aizawa-sensei stops in their tracks when your voice interrupts Bakugo’s rant.

“Maybe you’d be able to perfect your new technique if you spent more time practicing and less time barking at me.”

There’s a playful smirk on your face as you utter those fighting words and Aizawa wonders if today is the day he’ll have to prevent Bakugo from committing a truly villainous event. But even his jaw drops when all Bakugo does is scoff at your statement, barking at you to follow him to both your preferred area of the training grounds to resume practicing together.

Both of you look almost...friendly, exchanging punches and kicks, no heat behind Bakugo’s snarky comments, a smile on your face when you give it to him right back verbally. The upperclassmen and the pro-hero faculty watch in amused fondness as overtime Bakugo’s glowering and barking lulls down to a muted calm grumpiness as he continues to trail beside you. He’s not too different than a tamed feral kitten (not that any of them would voice that thought aloud and risk being blasted to pieces).

And as time continues on, everyone gets used to the fact that the two of you seem joined at the hip. You’re just...always together in a strange amicable friendship? Partnership? Relationship? No one knows how to exactly describe it and maybe that’s what finally leads to you overhearing an interesting conversation one morning in the dorms.

You yawn as you make your way to the common room to see who else is up, but you pause before you turn the corner from your hallway when you hear Kirishima mention your name.

“So what’s going on between the two of you. Are you dating?”

You don’t even have to peek around the bend to know who he’s talking to and your face heats up, ears perking up in anxious curiosity as you wait for Bakugo’s response. Realistically, you know you shouldn’t expect much. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less when you wait for Bakugo to shut Kirishima’s well-meaning thought down with a rude “why would I go out with that nobody” or some similar derogatory comment aimed at the idea of dating you or anyone for that matter.

Yet there’s only silence and a secret smile spreads across your face when all Bakugo finally responds with is a quiet scoff and a “it’s none of your business”.

“That’s not a no!”

“Shut up!”

Your heart is pounding as hope blossoms inside of it and you slowly countdown from ten, taking deep breaths to calm yourself down, schooling your face into as neutral an expression as possible. When your excess giddy energy is under some semblance of control, you make your presence known, bidding good morning to both boys and teasingly ruffling Bakugo’s spiky hair in a more affectionate version of a noogie. And Kirishima is left with a gaping jaw as he watches Bakugo merely roll his eyes at your antics and grunt here and there in response to your rambling as the two of you make your way to the cafeteria for breakfast together.

[sacredsorceress]

The Argument || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

summary: you and peter get in a fight and the other avengers can’t help but overhear

a/n: i have like four things in my drafts right now that i can’t seem to finish, but i had a sudden burst of inspiration to write this instead of studying so here we are! hope you enjoy! (reader’s super power is similar to wanda’s in a way except with gold rather than red)

word count: 2.2k

warnings: lots of swearing, loud arguing, angst with happy ending

masterlist || request

You and your boyfriend Peter stood, glaring at each other from opposite corners of your bedroom. Your hands were balled into fists at your sides as you looked at him from across the room with anger mixed hurt written all over your face.

“Are you serious right now, Peter?” You asked him, raising your voice with each sentence. “Are you dead serious right now? You know I’m a fucking Avenger right? I’m sorry if me being around other guys makes you uncomfortable but it’s kind of part of my job.”

Peter huffed, rolling his eyes and threw his hands up in the air. “So what? This is my fault now?” He gestured towards himself, raising his voice at you.

“You’re the one who’s pissed at me because I’m nice to other guys.” You scoffed. “It’s fine, Peter. Next time a guy needs saving I’ll be sure to tell him that Spider-Man doesn’t trust his girlfriend so he’ll have to figure it out himself.”

At the words that just came out of your mouth, Peter laughed out loud. It wasn’t the sweet laugh you always loved hearing in the mornings or the one where he would find something so hilarious that he would be out of breath, but one that just screamed that he could not believe what you had just said.

“Me?” He shouted. “You’re the one who always gets mad at me for ‘getting too cozy with girls’. I’m doing my job! You see one photo of me saving a girl- from a fire might I add- and you don’t talk to me for two days because you were jealous. What do you want me to do?”

Peter bringing up this situation again just made you fume even more and he knew that. Despite the fact that you and Peter rarely fought, this instance had been mentioned in several arguments between the two of you, but you always held your ground.

You were now the one throwing your hands up in the air, beginning to pace across the room. “Oh! This fucking conversation again!” You shouted at him. “How many times do we have to go over this? When are you going to get it? She kissed you!”

You still remember every part of the footage from that day and the image had burned itself into your brain. It was a solo day for Spider-Man so you hadn’t found out until you had seen the news footage of your boyfriend swinging the girl to safety with her arms wrapped tightly around him and her head buried in the crook of his neck. Peter’s arm was wrapped securely around her waist as he assured her that everything was going to be okay. As soon as he stopped swinging, however, and landed her safely on the ground, she had placed her hands on either side of Peter’s masked face and pulled him into a kiss. Although he quickly scrambled out of it, you couldn’t help but feel sick seeing the image.

“I was wearing my mask, Y/n!” He shouted back, tugging on his hair in frustration. “It’s not like I went in to kiss her. She kissed me! I didn’t do anything!”

At his words, you stopped pacing and stomped across the room, stopping in front of your boyfriend. “You’re right, you didn’t do anything.” You spat. “She kissed you and yeah that’s fucked up, but you know what’s more fucked up? That you didn’t tell me! You knew some girl had kissed you and you just hoped I would never find out. Do you know what it was like to find out from a fucking news broadcast? Fuck, Peter! You lied to me about it!”

Peter took a deep breath, looking anywhere besides your face. “I’m not doing this.” He told you finally, shoving past you to reach the door and stomping out of your room.

Peter aggressively threw open your door and you yelled out of frustration before following him out the room. Your hands were once again balled into fists at your sides as you watched Peter stomp out of your bedroom and down the hallway leading up to the common room, all the while yelling at him to stop.

“Peter!” You shouted.

“I’m not talking to you like this!” He yelled back, his back still facing towards you. “When you calm down and admit that you’re wrong-“

He knew what he was doing and he knew it was just pissing you off to a new extreme. So much so, you could feel the golden glow of your magic radiating off your hands that were balled into fists at your sides.

When Peter continued walking with his back turned towards you, refusing to speak to you further, you flicked your wrist causing the magical glow to spread out from your hand to your boyfriend, forcing him to turn around and face you, stopping him in his spot.

“Don’t walk away while I’m talking to you.” You told him, the anger radiating from your body in the from of the golden glow of your magic surrounding you.

“Did you just use magic on me?” Peter asked in a mix of shock, disgust and anger.

What the two of you didn’t realize in the midst of your fuming rage at each other was that the two of you had stopped in front of the common room. What you also hadn’t noticed was that the room was occupied by some of your... colleagues.

“Did she-“ Sam began.

“She did.” Nat finished.

Peter and you continued to argue back and forth about the audacity of the other, oblivious to the others hearing every word and watching the two of you throw harsh words at each other. It was an endless argument concerning who had the right to be angry and the unanswerable question of who was really at fault. During which the rest of the group of revelers in the common room watched and listened.

“Who wants the bet this is about that girl that kissed underoos?” Tony asked.

“That? That was so long ago though.” Steve replied.

“A girl never forgets.” Nat finished, kicking back in her seat. “How would you feel if you saw someone kissing your girlfriend.” She asked Steve.

“Never had one.” Steve shrugged.

An awkward silence filled the room for a brief moment before Sam began again.

“Steve’s right.” He said. “What about yesterday when Y/n saved that guy from getting his car thrown by that giant android and it turned out to be her ex-boyfriend?”

The group collectively nodded their heads, remembering the events of yesterday and that night when Peter had become more awkward than usual after you confessed the situation to him.

You had never seen Peter so jealous before. The two of you met after you and Peter had graduated high school and with your busy schedules you were barely finding time to hang out with your friends, never mind meet new guys. Peter and your’s relationship was usually one of romantic bliss. Despite the chaos and danger occurring in each of your lives, there was barely an argument between the two of you besides the occasional mention of that one time.

You told Peter later that night about how you recognized the guy you saved as your ex-boyfriend from high school.You didn’t expect much of a reaction considering you had dated the guy so long ago and you were wearing your mask that covered the upper half of your face to maintain your secret identity. It wasn’t even as though he could recognize you- you were just doing your job. You told Peter out of wanting to be honest with him, not because you thought it mattered- because it didn't. Peter upon your confession, however, was standoffish the remainder of the night seeming to be lost in his own head.

You didn’t give it much thought and decided to give him his own space until this morning when he confronted you about it, leading to the heated argument the two of you were in right now.

“Both of you are right.” Wanda finally spoke up.

Everyone in the room then turned their heads to face her.

“Did you... did you read their minds?”

“No.” She told them. “These walls aren’t very thick.”

“Should we stop them?” Steve asked.

To that, both you and Peter shouted “No!”

That was the moment though where you both suddenly realized that there was a whole room of people watching as you and Peter argued. Both of you stopped arguing suddenly and turned to face the room full of your colleagues.

“Did you... um... hear all of that?” Peter asked, cooling off from the heated argument you two shared seconds before as he fiddled with his fingers, unable to meet their eyes.

“Do you even know how loud you two were being?” Tony asked, standing up from his seat. “It’s impossible not to hear. Both of you have to drop it-”

“But Mr. Stark-” Peter began.

“Nope.” Tony cut him off. “No ‘buts’. Are you two even listening to yourselves?”

“Tony-” Steve started, attempting to intervene and have Tony drop the situation.

“Listen Rogers, I know you’ve been waiting decades for a first date, but someone has to play couples counselor here.” He told him matter-of-factly turning back to face the two of you. “You.” He pointed at you first. “That kid would never ‘cheat’ on you okay? He worships the ground you walk on so drop it. I’m sick and tired of hearing this frankly idiotic conversation every other week.”

At his words, you felt your fists unclench at your sides and your muscles relax. You knew he was right. As hurt as you were, you knew Peter would never do anything to hurt you on purpose. You knew he loved you just as much as- if not more than- you loved him.

Just as you were about to open your mouth, Tony began again- this time pointing at Peter.

“And you.” He began. Although you were looking at Tony, you could see your boyfriend stiffen in the corner of your eye. “What did you want her to do? Let that guy die because he... what? Took her on a few dates back in high school? You two have been to space together for god’s sakes. She was just doing her job and you know that.”

The two of you stood in front of Tony Stark himself now, knowing he was right, but not knowing what to say. You turned to look at Peter, seeing his shoulders slouched and his cheeks red likely from both the attention and embarrassment.

“You two can apologize now.” Tony said finally, striding back to the armchair he was sitting in prior to the lecture he gave the two of you and seating himself in it.

You and Peter turned to each other, visibly relaxing as you stared at each other. Despite the flaws the both of you had, you each cared for the other more than anyone else.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, being the first to apologize. “I’m sorry, Pete.” You apologized to him in almost a whisper. “I guess I was just hurt that you thought I could look at anyone else the way that I look at you.”

Peter sighed and you could see the sadness in his eyes that he felt from hurting you. You knew he never meant to hurt you and he was just hurt the same way you were.

“No... I’m sorry, Y/n.” He stepped forward to meet you, placing his hands gently on your arms that were wrapped around yourself. “It just sucked to think of you with some other guy.”

At his apology, you uncrossed your arms, instead reaching out for Peter’s hands. Squeezing his hands in yours you told him, “Peter, he doesn’t matter to me anymore. I love you.”

“Not just that, Y/n.” Although your words meant a lot to him, Peter shook his head. “I don’t know... sometimes I just think that you might want something more... I don’t know... normal. I can’t give you that normal, peaceful stuff so I guess I just get worried. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you though.”

Now it was your turn to shake your head as you gazed at your boyfriend. “Pete, you know I could never do normal” You chuckled. “I just got so angry at you that I had magic radiating off of me. Sure, normal would be easier, but I would choose crazy every day as long as I get to be with you.”

Finally you felt the last of the argument and rage that came with it disappear as a feeling of peace and calm washed over the two of you. You let go of Peter’s hands only to wrap them around his neck while his made their away around your torso.

“Gross.” Nat mumbled from her seat.

“I think I actually preferred when they were arguing.” Tony said in disgust.

You and Peter smiled at each other, able to hear the conversation between the others going on in the common room. You laughed as you looked into his eyes, slowly pulling your boyfriend into a kiss.

You and your boyfriend laughed into the kiss as you heard the group erupt into groans of disgust and annoyance. Although you and Peter didn’t have the perfect relationship and each of you had your flaws, at the end of the day you knew you would choose each other every time.

“Okay... Now do we stop them?”

[tendousthoughts]

HQ Boys Thinking Their S/O Left Them Pt. 2

Character(s) included: Tsukishima & Ushijima

Warning(s): Cursing

Song of the day: Love The Way You Lie by Eminem

A/N: Wow thanks for 200+ likes on my last part & 15+ reblogs! I’m almost at 150 followers so thank you for that too! I can't believe that my account is still active! Here’s part two! As always my ask box is open for comments and such! I would love to have some more Anons or even some character anons. Part three is next so if you have any haikyuu boys you want next just send a message! Please forgive any spelling and grammatical errors!

Where to find all the parts!

Where to find all my content!

Tag(s): @chibiiichann

Tsukishima

So the argument was your fault. The ‘harmless’ joke made its way to be more effective than you imagined. So maybe it wasn’t as funny as you thought to pour water on his head as soon as he got through the door. But it wasn’t your fault for not knowing he was having a tough day already.

“Baby.. please.. kei, I am sorry..” you whispered softly as you followed him in. You could tell he was angry. After all he just wanted to rest and now you just fucked everything up. “Kei.. please.” He turned to you.

“What?” He was drenched and tried to not let his attitude show. He just wanted to take a shower and go to bed.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.. it was just supposed to be a harmless prank..” you muttered softly now avoiding his eyes. They felt like they were burning holes into you.

“Oh wow so funny!” He looked at you. Now making eye contact you can feel the hints of venom in his voice. “It’s so fucking funny. You know sometimes I wonder if I ever did the shit you do to me back to you how would you react? I mean after all it’s just a fucking harmless prank! Do you ever just fucking think for a moment, ‘fuck maybe that’s not a good idea?’ Or no? I mean is you brain so fucking small and your so fucking dumb to the point you don’t have a good thought in there?!” His voice was loud, deep, and annoyed. You could almost see the hatred seeping from each word. You looked to the ground and took his hurtful and harmful words. 

It was your fault after all.

After a moment he looked down at you, getting out everything he needed to say, well almost everything. “It fucking sucks to put up with you sometimes. I hope you know your fucking lucky.” There he went, finally finishing his bitter words. He left slamming the door behind him as he started the shower. The warm tears that you had been holding in now finally making their way out.

After grabbing a jacket, phone, wallet, and keys you leave. Feeling terrible that he had to put up with you. Locking the door as you left you decided to take a walk. It was cold and dark. It was a terrible idea to have, but there wasn’t much more that you could do.

After he finished his shower he got out looking for you. He had sorta realized the weight of his words. He knew he went too far.

After about five minutes he realized you were nowhere in sight. He changed and grabbed his phone. “Pick up..” he muttered, calling you. It was too cold for you to be out, let alone it was too dark.

You looked down at your phone and just ignored the call, scared to be yelled at again. It was freezing, now coming to the realization that you should have brought a bigger jacket. You head to a nearby ramen place to eat.

On his side he is freaking the fuck out. “Fuck fuck..” he muttered softly. He tried calling you again and to his surprise you picked up. “Y/n where are you?” He seems upset.

“Don’t worry about it.. just get some rest okay? Night.” You’re almost about to hang up where he starts talking again. He is frantic and you can tell he is extremely worried.

“Y/n please. It’s dark and cold and I don’t want you getting lost or anything worse please..” he mumbled softly. He is trying not to seem overbearing.

“I’ll be okay. Goodnight.” You hang up. Not to your surprise he calls you about five times as you order something to go for the both of you. After about twenty minutes you start to walk back. It’s pitch black and freezing. You put the bag on your arm and zip up your thin jacket. Now holding onto your phone on flashlight with one hand and with the other the soup trying to keep warm. It takes you another fifteen minutes to arrive and you open the door.

Tsukishima was waiting by the door. It was quite late so you bit your lip and closed the door after. In that time Tsukishima’s arms are already tightly around you. His eyes were red and puffy and it was clear he had been crying.

“I told you to get some rest, Kei..” you whispered softly, unsure why he was up. Kinda glad that the ramen did go to waste though.

“I am sorry.. I’m sorry.. I’m sorry..” he started to cry again holding you tight. You were cold to the touch and to be honest if it weren’t for what he said earlier you would probably be really enjoying this.

“It’s okay.. I got some dinner..” you whisper breaking away from his grasp as you sit at the table him following after. He wiped away the tears sitting in front of you. He felt like shit. As you place the food in front of him he gives a weak thank you, which you just shake your head to and start eating.

After dinner you get up putting your dishes away. Getting ready for bed after. As you finish brushing your teeth and changing. You are met with his long warm arms around you once again. He missed you all day, and didn’t want you to be distant any longer. “I’m sorry y/n..” he whispered softly, tears rolling down his face.

“It’s okay kei.. don’t worry I know you didn’t, it was my fault anyway..” you muttered softly. “I’m sorry baby..” you wipe away his tears. “I didn’t mean to worry you okay..?” He just holds on tighter and shakes his head gently, picking you up. He decides to carry you to the room you two share. As he holds you, you whisper nothing but sweet words of love, trying to comfort him.

When he lays down you gently hold him. He clears his throat ready to apologize more. “Y/n.. I really didn’t mean any of that okay..? I really love you so much and I’m the lucky one. You’re so considerate and shit and you were just trying to play a prank but I had a really shitty day and just didn’t react well.. I’m sorry..” he whispered softly. His head is buried into the crevice between your shoulder and head. It was clear he was upset.

“Baby it’s okay.. don’t worry I know you didn't mean too.. it was my fault.." you whisper softly. His arms tighten around you holding you close. "I should have known it wasn't a good idea and just didn’t do it. Instead I decided to do it and then leave.. making you worried and stuff.. So I'm sorry.." you whispered softly.

He just shakes his head and smiles softly. "Okay.. I love you Y/n," he muttered softly as he closed his eyes. Quite tired from such a stressful day.

"I love you too Kei," you muttered back, staying up until you’re sure he is peacefully asleep. When you are sure, you drift to sleep. You are safe here. You are safe in his arms, being loved by him. This is where you are meant to be, forever.

Ushijima

Practice was shit. He missed almost everything that came his way, and to be honest it was getting to him. He was quite pissed seeing you with some other guy. No matter what or who they were, they weren’t him. That’s all that mattered. You were laughing and smiling with them and he was upset. So of course he would be off his game. Who wouldn’t? You were the person everyone wanted. Ushijima was lucky to be your boyfriend let alone even talk to you.

But the same could be said about Ushijima. He was known everywhere and you got jealous too at times. I mean who wouldn’t when he got gifts every time he entered a match. He barely talked to you then too, because he thought you would be too ‘distracting.’ So in the end you normally would sit in the back and chat with a few people but tried to stay focused. Today was different. It was a practice not a game. So you didn’t mind not paying attention.

Once practice ended you were met with Ushijima’s tall form in front of you. “Oh hey baby,” you smiled getting up. He doesn’t look too happy and gives the guy a stare that makes him almost immediately leave.

“Who’s he?,” he looked down at you again. You’re shorter than him but to be honest he loves it. He loves the fact that he can tease you with kisses or the fact he can pick you up.

“I just met him. He is pretty cool, turns out he was in one of my old classes.” You smile a bit.

“Oh. Okay let’s go.” He muttered softly. Now expecting a kiss on the head before you two leave you wait. It takes a moment before you realize you’re not getting one so you just follow after him.

“How was practice..” you ask when you guys get in the car. It was quiet and you didn’t like that. It was too quiet.

“You would have known if you were watching.” He was brief and quick with his answers. “It went bad.”

You shake your head softly and when you guys get back into the house it’s no better. Now deciding to break the silence once more. “What’s wrong baby..” you look at him. Something’s off. Completely off.

He looks to you maybe for the first time, in what.? Half an hour an hour of being in the same car. Whatever it was it didn’t matter, it was too long.

“I don’t know why you have to come to my practices and just distract me the whole time.” He doesn’t think about what to say before he does.

“What..? I didn’t run up to you like usual and I stayed in the back like you like! What do you mean ‘distract’ you?” You look at him confused.

“Maybe you shouldn’t come then. It seems like everywhere you have to just be in my way. Let alone you just bring people with you.” He looks annoyed and maybe you should just drop it. But you can’t. You did nothing wrong.

“What? I stayed out of your fucking way! I didn’t ask to come. You asked me too! It’s not like I begged you to come and then was up in your face the whole time. Like your so-called fans! They were up in your face the whole fucking time trying to give you gifts and shit! But ya I’m the distracting one!” You looked annoyed. Upset. Pissed off. Whatever you wanna call it.

“Really? Really? We wanna go there now? It’s not like every fucking time we walk the halls together someone doesn’t come up to say hello to you! Or asks if your fucking free, I mean it’s not like your with me or anything.” You can tell he is mad. But it isn’t your fault.

“Yes really! You have fucking people wait by the gates of the school for you. I mean that’s what I get for dating you right? I get a bunch of girls following my boyfriend, I get called a distraction when I come up to you and get called a distraction when I’m away from you. I don’t know what to fucking do at this point!” You can feel yourself tear up. This is fucked up.

“Wow. Of course. All my fucking fault. Mhm just blame it all on me. You know what fuck you, and fuck your high horse.” He slams the shared room’s door closed. You don’t say anything, deciding to just leave. You grab your stuff and close the door. It’s a bit chilly and you’re glad you grabbed a jacket. It wasn’t weird for you two to fight let alone get on each other’s nerves. But when it’s going good, it’s going great.

You leave heading to a friend’s house and stay the night. Unsure how you fucking feel at this point. What the fuck was up with him? You just tried to stay in your fucking lane. It hurts. It fucking hurts to be called a distraction. Maybe he didn’t get that. But you knew he did. He wasn’t that dumb. He wasn’t that fucking dense like everyone else thought. You knew he wasn’t. That was one of his worst insecurities and you knew it.

The next day you were dropped off at school and we’re surprised to see Ushijima waiting. You bit your lips walking right past him. You could see the hurt in his eyes. He had eye bags and his eyes were red and swollen. He seemed like he had been crying, you felt bad. But at the same time you didn’t. You needed him to understand how much you were hurt by his words.

When lunch came around he was waiting at the door of your classroom and you bit your lip. “Do you need something?” You ask. It took him a moment before he shook his head.

“Can we please talk.. I’m sorry..” he muttered softly. He was clearly still upset by yesterday’s fight and so were you.

“Okay. It’s fine I’m sorry too,” you look up now, his big arms were wrapped tightly around you. He sniffled softly as he was already tearing up again.

“I didn’t mean any of that.. you’re not a distraction and I love you so much baby..” he whispered softly. “I was just jealous and shit..” he muttered softly. “I don’t like it when you hang out with others and stuff and I know it’s not fair.. I just get worried you will like them more and just leave..” he whispered softly finally opening up.

“Hey look at me..” you whisper gently, taking your hands and wrapping them around his cheeks. “I won’t do that to you.. I love you so much, okay?” He shakes his head.

“I love you too y/n..” he muttered softly. He was tired and you could tell. Once you reached the cafeteria you sat next to him and he laid his head on your shoulder.

A soft laugh made its way out as you held him. God you love him. Nothing could ever change that. No matter any fight. You loved him and he loved you. That’s all that would ever matter.

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[obeymefictionwriting]

Hi! I read your uggly Betty hc! And I was wondering if you could do one where the MC snaps (in anger/crying/ both) when the brother says something nasty. And then how the feel afterwards and how they would make it up. Know that was long but that would be so cool! If your busy I totally understand! Much love ❤

Aw, another sweet request! Love doing these ^^

Lucifer

He is so furious at first that he doesn’t really realize how much he hurt you.

Turns away and breathes deeply to cool down.

When turning back, is stunned to see you crying silently.

Tries to embrace you and is even more stunned when you hit his hand and ducks his embrace.

Did he hurt you THAT bad?

Is absolutely broken inside and honestly has zero idea how to fix things up

Like, he wanna hug you but he is also unsure whether you want it.

Finally, grabs your chin and slowly lifts your face up

“I am so sorry, I never meant to hurt you”

Kisses your hand and sotly pulls you to him. 

Will stay with you until you are 100% okay

Mammon

No, YOU LISTEN TO HIM, YOU STUPID HU...

Hey hey hey, wait, why are you cryin?!

Ugh he didn’t mean it, okay?

Is torn between running away and screaming his lungs out and comforting you.

Is actually the first time he sees you screaming and crying like that so honestly, no idea what to do.

Just sits near you and silently admits he was wrong.

It’s because he was feeling so hopeless, okay?!

Stands on his knees and looks you in the eyes, asking yo forgive him. And he means it 100%

Leviathan

This guy is really scary in his rage but he’d never expect you to be SO FURIOUS with him.

[for the next 2 hours you two scream at each other]

The House of Lamentation is shaking

Is so involved in arguing that misses the moment when you break down

Oh. Oh no.

Immediately turns from a furious demon lord into an anxious otaku

W-w-wait, don’t cry!

Brings you water to calm you down.

Will probably run around the room, looking for something that would help

Once you calm down, he will break down too because he was so NERVOUS this whole time.

Now it’s your turn to tell him it’s okay

Satan

As an Avatar of Wrath, he is known for his temper but he’d never expect you to snap back.

His first desire is to immediately teach you a lesson because no human being can talk to him in such voice.

He then remembers it’s you in front of him, not a random creature.

His look scared you and he feels sorry and angry at the same time.

He has no idea how to make it up to you because he never did that before, to be honest.

Okay, here we go.

He hugs you, kisses you on the forehead and says “I love you” looking in your eyes.

Also lets you punch him as much as you need to let the anger out.

Asmodeus

Tbh, Asmo in rage is really unexpected and scary.

So scary that you, in fact, start uncontrollably sobbing the second you saw him this way.

No matter how pissed he feels, the moment he sees tears on your face, he cools down.

After all, Asmo 100% cares about people whom he love and he can’t be mean to them!

“Aw I am so sorry, love. Sorry I did not manage to control my emotions”

It was partially your fault, tbh, but he is too kind to point at that.

“There, there. Listen, let’s go take a wonderful warm bath, shall we? And sweets? Huh? There you go, dear”.

Promises to never ever hurt you again.

Beelzebub

It sure takes a special skill to piss Beelzebub off but somehow you two ended getting in a fight.

Okay, he didn’t mean to shout at you but he just couldn’t help it.

And he def did not expect you to... shout back?

Oh. You are intimidating.

No, he doesn’t like that. Can we go back to the time when everything was nice and sweet?

Not that he doesn’t understand how important arguments sometimes are, he hates the thought that he can make you feel bad.

His face says so much that you notice it and immediately cool down.

He will be very patient in asking you what’s wrong and how can you negotiate.

*Perfect boyfriend check*

Belphegor

He’ll say all kind of mean nasty things to you when you piss him off just because your words hurt him so much.

Oh, SO NOW YOU SNAPPED AT HIM?

Honestly, he was about to destroy you for a moment but realizes it’s you, not an enemy.

He is horrible at controlling himself when it comes to arguments.

Will need some time to cool down.

50% chance he will approach you first; 50% you’ll need to.

Though he knows he was wrong, he hates to admit it.

Okay, he will approach you because he does love you. It’s just hard and ihe hates it and yes, the 2007 emo boy vibes are here.