#idk man all I’m saying is that jesus didn’t have to go through ten years of war and then ten more years of hell trying to get home

[spineless-lobster]

[atlafan]

almost every single night between 11PM and 1AM my upstairs neighbor has a visitor, and in general I don’t think this man knows that sound travels because he walks like he’s stomping all the fucking time! Anyways, my bedroom shares a wall with the stairs he uses to go up and down, in and out of his apartment. He always slams his own door shut, stomps his way down the stairs, and then very loudly leaves through the front door. Which I can hear because my bedroom is at the front of the house. So then his visitor comes, I can hear them fucking because I think his room is above mine. And then the visitor leaves after. So I can’t tell if he just hooks up with a ton of different people or if he doesn’t let this girl spend the night or if she doesn’t like spending the night. Either way, I can hear them going up and down the stairs, in and out of the house. And then my upstairs neighbor obviously has to get ready for bed afterwards. So I can hear him stomping around as he does that. I started almost yelling last night, very loudly saying, “dude come on!”

his daughter comes to stay with him every other weekend and when I tell you she runs around like she’s wearing fucking tap shoes! Last weekend she started running around at like 8am and I got up and screamed and started stomping around. I heard him yell at her to stop running. I’ve always woken up to the sound of his alarm buzzing several times. And every time he comes home, his car is blasting music and he sits in his car for like 20 minutes before going inside. We share the garbage barrels and he NEVER brings them out front anymore, I always end up having to do it. So now I’m just getting aggravated with every little thing he does.

I know it could be ten times worse. I’ve had worse upstairs neighbors. But it’s awful when I can’t get sleep before his late night actions. Luckily this morning I was conked out so I didn’t hear him leave the house like I usually do at like 6 in the morning.

I’m very quiet for the most part. Henry rarely barks, so he’s not the cause of any noise. I am very conscious of the nose that I make. But when this dude is stomping around at all hours, I slam things and bang things because I get pissed!

I have no idea how this guy is getting bitches. I’ve seen him. Idk how he’s getting people to fuck him I really don’t. And I will be shallow and mean about it because I just don’t see the appeal at all.

And the stuff with his daughter…like I know it can’t be easy having like a 4 year old every other weekend, but Jesus fucking Christ, if I EVER stomped or ran around the house like that, my father would immediately start screaming to tell me to stop. We didn’t even wear shoes in the house. We weren’t allowed! When I tell you I walk as light as a feather because I also grew up with my bedroom in the attic so every room below me could hear my sister and I walking around. We tiptoed to not disturb anyone else. I hate to be like the “these kids today” or “these parents today” person, but holy fucking shit teach your kids not to run around the house, especially with shoes on when you KNOW someone is right below you. AND sometimes she’s up past 9, sometimes 10PM running around. PUT YOUR KID TO BED! A kid that young should be in bed by at least 8! Like what the fuck are you doing?????

Anyways, I didn’t fall asleep until after 1am last night and I’m cranky

[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.”

[makeste]

BnHA 323: “I Don’t Know How to Explain to You That You Should Care About Other People”

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was all, “Izuku, I’m sorry.” Bakugou Stans were all, “[sobs for a week straight and tearfully awards him the Nobel Prize for character development].” Deku was all, “[faints in Kacchan’s arms].” Iida was all, “[trying to decide if Ochako genuinely tried to kill him a few minutes ago].” Horikoshi was all, “NO TIME FOR HUGS WE MUST GET BACK TO UA.” The civilians holed up at U.A. were all, “WE TOOK A VOTE AND DECIDED THAT WE’RE ALL GOING TO BE JERKS ABOUT THIS AND MAKE A BIG FUSS ABOUT YOU LETTING DEKU BACK INTO THE SCHOOL.” Deku was all “[stands there looking like he expected nothing less and breaking my heart more and more with each passing moment].” Ochako was all, “that does it, looks like I’m gonna have to do something about this... next chapter, that is.”

Today on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal is all “I just want you all to know that I spent nine million dollars turning U.A. into a giant Battleship-style grid that can burrow underground and zoom around in a giant subway maze because Horikoshi lacks a grounded understanding of both civil engineering and economics.” Back in the present day, Jeanist is all, “EVERYONE TAKE HEED, MY COMRADES AND I HAVE DEEMED IT EXPEDIENT TO CONVEY THIS AUSPICIOUS YOUTH BACK TO THIS STRONGHOLD. WE ANTICIPATE THAT WE MAY DEPEND UPON YOUR GOODWILL AND ACQUIESCENCE TO THESE TERMS.” The civilians were all, “NO.” Ochako was all, “EMPATHY, MOTHERFUCKERS, DO YOU SPEAK IT?!” The civilians were all, “oh shit.” Anyway so Ochako is a giant badass, but I’m a little worried that she’s going to get struck by lightning. Please come down from there.

so before we start this chapter, I would just like to apologize for having not posted the ch 321 recap yet, and would like to reassure everyone, and especially Iida who is staring at me with Sad Wobbly Guilt Trip Eyes, that I will get to that as soon as I can

OMG FLASHBACK??

yes please Horikoshi please show us more of class 1-A and their Deku intervention strategy jam sessions

oh dear

Iida you are too pure and good for this cruel world. [sprays the U.A. civilians with a water bottle] NO. BAD CIVILIANS! NO OSTRACIZING SCARED AND EXHAUSTED CHILDREN IN THE HOUSE

EXCUSE ME RAT PRINCIPAL WHAT’S WITH THESE MIXED MESSAGES

???

RAT PRINCIPAL: he’s free to return to us at any time!!

ALSO RAT PRINCIPAL: but it’s too risky for him to return to us

?? ??????? ?????????????????????

so now he’s going on about how strong the U.A. Barrier is, and how it’s comparable to the defensive capabilities of Tartarus. this would have sounded a lot more impressive before chapter 297 lol

OH!!!! HELLO, WHAT’S THIS!!!

A TIMELY CALLBACK TO A CERTAIN MYSTERIOUS EVENT WHICH HASN’T BEEN REFERENCED SINCE USJ? [U.A. TRAITOR MUSIC INTENSIFIES]

so now Rat Principal says he upgraded U.A.’s security systems with his own “modifications”, whatever the fuck that means. I mean look, I’ve been saying for a long time now that U.A. is the best place for everyone to hole up, don’t get me wrong. but that was mostly on account of there not being any other practical alternatives. but you’re making it sound like you figured out a way to actually make it Decay-proof or some wild shit like that

-- hold up, DID YOU ADD A FORCE FIELD. DID YOU TRICK THIS SCHOOL OUT WAKANDA-STYLE YOU CRAZY MARSUPIAL. HOLY SHIT. because that would actually be perfect

LMAO

WHAT KIND OF GALAXY BRAIN BULLSHIT. “NAH THERE’S NO NEED FOR A FORCE FIELD, LET’S JUST PUT WHEELS ON IT”

oh okay so the whole campus is basically capable of burrowing itself underground. that’s insane lol I wonder how they pulled that off. probably got poor Cementoss working overtime

blah blah blah so basically the entire campus is split into a grid and each section of the grid is capable of its own independent movement. lol this is just the Merone Base from KHR. you thought no one would notice this casual plagiarism ten years after the fact, but YOU UNDERESTIMATED YOUR AUDIENCE, HORIKOSHI

“joke’s on you imma just lampshade it” WELL ALL RIGHT THEN

“look at me I’m so fucking self-aware” fucking swear to god. I can’t believe this man is my favorite mangaka of all time smdh

“excuse me, I wasn’t finished describing all the rest of this bullshit yet,” Rat Principal breaks in impatiently. “we also added a steel wall all around the underground of the campus that’s 3000 steel plates thick. that’s fifteen fucking meters of solid fucking steel just fyi. and if anyone fucks around with any part of it the defense system will activate immediately! and also all of the plates are independently motorized, whatever the fuck that means!! in conclusion you’re gonna need a fucking tower crane to suspend all of your disbelief by the time I’m through with this paragraph”

“also Shiketsu is almost as reinforced as U.A. but not quite because we still had to make sure we were better.” but of course. and apparently the two schools are connected via a secret tunnel as Hagakure mentioned earlier

LSDKFJLSDKJFLK

“WAIT WHAT” LMAO YOU HEARD HIM, NOW INASA CAN VISIT YOU BOTH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND TELL YOU ALL ABOUT THE WEIRD DREAM HE HAD. GOD BLESS YOU HORIKOSHI

(ETA: moment of appreciation for Shouto and Katsuki having the same thought at the same time and making Knowing Eye Contact and saying the exact same thing out loud in perfect unison like the best friends they are. what a blessed day.)

so Tokoyami is all “but wait if you engineered all this shit all the way back during the Band arc how did you even know that Tomura’s quirk awakening would become a thing, Horikoshi -- uh, I mean, Principal Nezu”

and Rat Principal is all “lol idk”

“basically I just woke up one morning and was all ‘say, you know what this school really needs? a fifteen-meter-thick underground steel wall, and the ability to break up into little pieces that individually zoom around wherever the fuck they want.’ jesus christ. lol if money and common sense were apparently no obstacle why didn’t you just teleport U.A. to the fucking moon or something. maybe I should shut up before I given him any ideas

dsfaelkjldkjgl

you heard it here first, folks, all of this cost a grand total of nine million U.S. dollars. well technically it cost “more than” nine million dollars. never has that distinction been more important lmao. are we sure this barrier was really made of steel and not cardboard? who the hell sold it to them, Ea-Nasir??

this is my favorite manga series of all time. yes I am ashamed

“in conclusion please do your best to reach Deku-kun” SO WHAT WAS ALL THAT NONSENSE ABOUT IT BEING TOO RISKY THEN. anyway thank you for this super informative and edifying flashback, Horikoshi. I will cherish it always. I don’t even want to read another translation of this absurdity lmao, there’s something special about it just the way it is. pretty sure Horikoshi just had a cracked out fever dream one night and transferred it to the pages of the manga verbatim

anyway so back to the unruly mob

not their finest moment. please excuse me while I cover poor Deku’s ears and give him a good shoosh pap

oh wow the parents are out here too

is Mitsuki trying to hold Inko back?? that’s the last thing this fandom needs right now is more Mitsuki discourse fffwlkjs. and even Jiroudad, scientifically proven to be the best dad in all of BnHA, is just standing there silently looking vaguely unhappy. way to rise to the moment you guys

MONOMA

so this settles it for me that Aizawa is not at UA. I know a lot of people have been wondering about his whereabouts, and if I had to wager a guess it would be that something happened with Shirakumo/Kurogiri. I can’t think of anything else -- even the loss of an eye and a limb -- that would keep him from his kids at a time like this

anyway but this is excellent Monoma content right here though. I love that he apparently adopted Eri after a single interaction with her. also WHERE IS SHINSOU DAMMIT. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW

and Kouta’s there too looking like he wants to run over to Deku but Ragdoll won’t let him :/

it’s gotta be pretty upsetting for him to see his hero like this and not having anyone stand up for him. [taps megaphone] IS THIS THING ON. OKAY YEAH IT SEEMS TO BE WORKING. AHEM. PAGING URARAKA OCHAKO. GONNA NEED YOU TO GET OVER HERE ALREADY AND MAKE THAT BIG DRAMATIC SPEECH WHICH YOU ARE CLEARLY DYING TO MAKE. IF YOU DON’T DO IT SOON I’M GONNA HAVE TO STEP IN, AND YOU REALLY DON’T WANT ME TO DO THAT SINCE MY SPEECH WILL NOT BE VERY GOOD OR INSPIRING, AND WILL PROBABLY JUST CONSIST OF “HELLO, YOU ARE ALL STUPID, PLEASE SHUT UP AND GO AWAY”

so now Mic is telling them to calm down. at least someone’s speaking up here, geez

OH MY GOD

MY MAN JEANIST OUT HERE DOING WHAT HE DOES BEST: MAKING EVERYONE FEEL GUILTY AND JUDGED

OH MY GOD HE IS GIVING SUCH A LONG AND BORING SPEECH LMAO IS YOUR STRATEGY TO PUT THEM ALL TO SLEEP OR WHAT

truly in awe of this man’s ability to take messages which could easily be conveyed in ELI5-speak, and stubbornly convert them into incomprehensible language the likes of which you need a graduate degree in order to understand

“hey guys, so originally our plan was to use Deku as bait for the villains, but that didn’t really work and also we realized it was kinda dumb and was probably gonna get him killed, so we brought him back here instead.” was that really so hard, Jeanist. also are we all really just gonna sit back here and watch Jeanist take full credit for Bakugou’s plan just like that lmao

(ETA:

WHERE DID ENDEAVOR GO AND WHO IS THIS DIABOLICAL MASTER OF DISGUISE. lol I genuinely didn’t notice this because I was too busy digging through thesauruses trying to rewrite Jeanist’s speech; many thanks to @class1akids​ for pointing it out and making my day immeasurably better. take it easy there Dick Tracy.)

“anyway so please stop being dicks and let him fucking rest so he can save all your ungrateful asses” what an impassioned and inspiring plea. time to see if the masses will listen to reason

narrator: they did not listen to reason

oh my god finally Ochako is doing something. YEAH OCHAKO WOOOO SHOW THEM HOW IT’S DONE

hmm

this entire chapter is truly and utterly nonsensical to me lol

(ETA: on my second readthrough I’m fucking dying at how she stole the megaphone right out of Mic’s hand lmao. and how Kacchan is all “fuck yeah nothing I appreciate more than some quality fucking larceny.”)

oh I see she was jumping on top of the main building so as to scream down at them all more impressively

“ANYWAY DEKU IS PRETTY COOL ACTUALLY, YOU GUYS ARE JUST MEAN” couldn’t have said it better myself Ochako

lol uh

gotta say I did not have “Ochako reveals the secret of OFA to the entire U.A. Citizen Clown Parade” on my bingo card for this week. it’s a bold strategy cotton let’s see if it pays off

SDLFKJSL

“NO, SERIOUSLY, HAVE YOU LOOKED AT HIM YOU GUYS. YOU THINK HE LIKES RUNNING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A RUSTED OIL DRUM?? HE DID THAT FOR YOU YOU UNGRATEFUL SLOBS”

so she is basically explaining the entire Deku Angst arc to them and explaining what a good and selfless protagonist Deku is, YES, PREACH

OMG IT’S THE GIGANTIC FOX LADY

not to insinuate anything, but what exactly were you doing standing out here with the hysterical mob, Gigantic Fox Lady? you’re better than that

-- KACCHAN SIGHTING!!

sdlkfjl. thanks for weighing in with that helpful and important observation. where have you been for the last five minutes. were you asleep. was it Jeanist’s speech

never mind, now he’s yelling at the civilians so I instantly forgive him

THE FUTURE NUMBER ONE HERO, EVERYONE. THANK YOU, THANK YOU. HE’LL BE HERE ALL WEEK

“anyway so I’m just going to end the chapter here” lmao seventeen pages truly do go by so fast. at least he didn’t try to force in a cliffhanger at the end this time. dare I say, growth

so I guess the civilians are either gonna have a Kamino and/or Fukuoka-esque moment where they remember how to be decent people and apologize to this poor young man, or else they’ll remain unpersuaded, and so Kacchan will have to knock a few of their heads around until they become more inclined to be reasonable. either option is fine by me lol

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

I’ve been rewatching CM and god, what I wouldn’t give for them to bring TG back for this revival. I haven’t even watched seasons 12-15 yet because I’m in denial about him being gone 😭😭😩

omg I haven't watched it either xD I've been holding off watching s11e22, The Storm, for like a month I swear. Which, I know is going to be amazing but I also have heard it's the beginning of the end and I'm not readyyyyyyy.

I would give anything for TG to come back. A n y t h i n g. But idk what CBS feels is the appropriate amount of time to be blacklisted or whatever the hell they did 🤷‍♀️ despite how it would be so easy to write him back in, and the missed opportunities is already making my skin crawl.

Okay. This was going to be a quick answer, but I've been THINKING about this way more than I should lately, without ever having watched 12-15 but I feel like I know enough, and with all the projects I'm going to be finishing/starting soon I know I won’t have time to do anything with my ideas. So I'm just going to type this little beginning I have plotted out and maybe one day I'll make it into the fic I want it to be:

(I know you didn't ask for a hc/blurb thing but surprise you get one xD)

CW: Spoilers for season 11-15 that are probably inaccurate af, fighting, violence, bit of blood and injuries talk, some profanity. 

-

((I legit have this all plotted out like a full season, and picture everything as shots and scenes and I know exactly how I would want to bring Hotch back.))

-

It would start in a small suburban town in Indiana, legit white-picket fence, middle of nowhere, off the grid town. With the most pedestrian name ever, we might as well call it Mayberry. Typical weekend morning, bright green grass and trees and summer sunshine lighting it all up, they still get papers delivered it’s that picturesque. And it’ll pan to all sorts of people on this street of nice, two-story houses, and finally zero in on not the man picking up his paper from his front porch, but the jogger slowing down that the man calls to next door, calling him a name we’ve never heard before -- but the jogger answers with that dark eyed squint and a nod... and it is Aaron Hotchner. Or the man who used to be Aaron Hotchner. He hasn’t gone by that name in years, WITSEC provided him and Jack with new ones.

His house isn’t even really decorated like a home, he’s been in enough over the years to know tell-tale signs of what a happy home should entail. Photographs, memorabilia, nostalgia tucked away in corners -- they don’t have that. He has a couple of photographs he keeps in his office, the only two in inconspicuous view being a photo of Haley and Jack when he was two years old, and a photo of his team the day he completed the FBI triathlon and they all showed up to support him. Everything else of their old life is in boxes in a storage facility in downtown D.C., under another false name that can never be linked back to them. 

Mr. Scratch was a poor excuse for why he and Jack were still under WITSEC, but he hopes near daily that it was enough of a reason that no one would question why he didn’t return once that monster was dead. That no one smart enough to read between the lines would go digging for more reasons, or worse -- try to find him -- and they pictured him living a happy retirement very similar to the charade he is living now. 

But Aaron Hotchner was never meant for retirement. No matter how easy and simple his days have been the past few years. It was only a matter of time. 

He walks through his home that looks more like the insides of a Home Living magazine, to his kitchen which is bright and spacious and tiled white that he knows Haley would have loved, getting a glass of water from the sink and chugging it all in one go. It isn’t until he’s getting a second glass that he hears it. The faucet was supposed to have masked any disturbance, they were careful in when they moved, how they placed their feet, the slowness of the their approach -- but not enough.

Hotch keeps his shoulders relaxed, his spine still ram-rod straight but that’s just how he stands and it keeps tension ready at a moment’s notice. Keeps him on alert, which he needs as he takes slower sips of water and lets all his other sense shift to a heightened awareness. Knows this house like the back of his hand, even if he’s never allowed himself to consider it home, so he knows which floorboards creak and where all the furniture is strategically placed. Always prepared for something like this to happen, even if he never imagined someone would be so bold. 

Their mistake.

With a careful tick of his head, peripherals his only guidance, he strikes before the intruder gets to. An iron grip and momentum that propels their face into the metal of the sink basin, shocking them that what their file was so misleading about their target. Retired FBI agent, almost 60 years old, living in Pleasantville with a picket fence and a vegetable garden. This should have been easy. The intruder is stunned by the blow, attempts a quick recovery where they lash out and get a few good body shots into the older man -- but he’s built like a brick wall, can take a blow and give it back twice as hard -- a few more precise hits and another crack of their face to the sink that shatters the bridge of their nose leaves the attacker slumping to the floor. 

“You didn’t do your research,” Hotch tells them, breathing a little heavy, opening up a drawer usually deemed for junk and pulls out zipties and an ancient looking cell phone buried deep at the back. “Sloppy. I expected more from him.” 

The attacker kicks out Hotch’s knees in a fit of rage (at having his skill set insulted so), leaving them both crashing to the floor. They grapple and fight a bit more, knocking dishes from the counters and pots and pans to the floor from the grill top island, but Hotch is so well-trained in take downs he gets the slighter man pinned with only a split lip and a single hitch in breath. He barely broke a sweat. Knocks the guy out clean, two solid punches to his face, and he stops because he knows better. Has been there before, and they need to question whoever was sent to his house to kill him. 

He’s barely off the floor, the intruder binded and stuck in a corner when Jack walks in from early morning soccer practice. Takes one look at the kitchen, his dad with blood in the corner of his mouth, and the guy all in black bound by zipties and already knows what happened. Sixteen, nearly as tall as his father now, he looks only mildly worried for all of two seconds until he sees that his dad has an old flip cell phone held up to his good ear, awaiting a connection with their handler in Indianapolis. 

“... Does this mean we get to go home?” 

The shot would pan back to Hotch, and he wouldn’t answer him, just tells the person on the phone to ‘patch him through, they have a situation’, and there would be no very obvious look in answer to Jack’s question. But all of us who know him, know the subtle changes in expression and the slight softening to that stern frown, knows what his reply would have been.

-

The very next scene would be the BAU. JJ and Emily walking at a brisk pace covering a debrief, since they basically run the department now. Everyone has been called in, everyone, retired and moved away and even the ones who cut all ties have been contacted. JJ has just gotten off the phone with Elle, who is working as a liaison in Rome and assured her that if anyone showed up in her home to attack her that they would be leaving in a body bag. But she appreciated the heads up. 

In the bullpen it’s more like a family reunion than anything. Garcia has just gotten off the elevators, a flurry of color and blonde curls and bright as ever, Morgan and Savannah are trying to corral Hank and the twins (both girls and pure chaos now that they can walk) while still making introductions with the new team and their families, and asking if Reid or Rossi know anything about what’s going on as JJ gets there and asks for everyone’s attention. 

“Not everyone is here yet, Kate and her family are on their way from upstate, Will’s getting the boys from school, and Alex and her husband are on a plane, but we need to get started as soon as possible.”

“What’s is going on, JJ?” Morgan asks, passing off one of the twins to Penelope who is in full baby fever mode despite what is obviously a very bad circumstance that has brought them all together. It’s a juxtaposition that has put everyone on edge. It doesn’t help when JJ and Emily look at each other as if in confirmation, trying to decide who is going to tell them.

“Okay, that doesn’t inspire confidence,” Rossi points out. “What happened?”

Emily sighs and makes a gesture for JJ to take the floor, since she has been on point for most of this.

The bull pen is silent in anticipation.

“Earlier this morning, Hotch was attacked in his home in Indiana,” she says, and whatever anyone thought was going on -- that wasn’t it. The shock across the room is like a bomb has detonated.

Rossi curses something out in Italian, looking down, and JJ immediately realizes how this all sounds. But doesn’t even get to backtrack as Reid looks completely devastated and Garcia like she’s about to cry and everyone else starts shouting questions at her. 

“What happened to Jack?”

“How did they even find him? What the fuck is wrong with WITSEC?!”

“Is he okay?” asks Tara, the only intellectual who can see the panic now blooming on JJ’s face.

“Yes, yes! He’s okay, sorry, no -- Hotch is fine. The guy who tried to kill him... not so much, but he should be conscious soon so they can question him.” 

“Jesus Christ, JJ,” Morgan says looking like he just aged ten years in the past 30 seconds. “Lead with that.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. He’s okay, Jack is okay, they’ve been picked up. But... there’s a lot we need to be filled in on,” she admits, which quiets the room once more. “Apparently, the WITSEC had nothing to do with Mr. Scratch. There’s something much bigger and more dangerous going on, and he went under to keep us all safe. As well as himself, and Jack.” 

“What is it?”

JJ makes a gesture with her hands splayed as she looks a little lost. “I only know bare bones, we have to wait to hear the specifics and get everyone somewhere safe.” 

“You think we’re going to trust WICSEC after this?!”

Emily intervenes this time, “We have a plan, or... Hotch has a plan, I think. We’re just learning about everything as we go, he’s really the one that knows the most about it.”

“Then where is he?” Morgan speaks up again. “If he’s been pulled out, and we’re all in danger, why isn’t he here explaining this to us himself?” 

It’s a good question, and everyone looks expectantly at the two women leading the informal briefing. 

“Will he come back at all?” Reid asks, speaking up for the first time. It’s been years, that’s a long time to rethink a life like the BAU, and everything it entails.

JJ takes a deep breath. “He’s... in--”

“Out-processing.” 

Hotch is at the back of the room. Everyone turns to him, even JJ and Emily look surprised to see him so soon.  ((But we all know the CM cinematography love that kind of return shot, so I’m catering to it. For situational parallels if nothing else. Imagine the gif sets.))

“I pushed it as fast as they could go, but WITSEC always drags their feet.” The familiar drone, dry barely-there-humor, breaks whatever spell that had been over the room at the sight of the old Unit Chief. Disbelief and relief and stunned surprise litter every expression, and although Penelope looks like the first to say something, her words change course just as she opens her mouth. Because  Hotch is still in civilian clothes, a duffle-bag over his shoulder he used as a go-bag for decades, and beside him with a bag of his own with messy dirty blonde hair is--

“Oh my God, is that Jack!?” she near sobs, the teenager smiling at her in a way that looks so much like Haley, and she goes to hug him first with the boy meeting her halfway. “You’re so tall! And so grown up, look at you!” There’s definitely tears and the team converges on the Hotchners all at once. Reid hugs Hotch first, as tight and bone-crushing as that night in Atlanta all those years ago, followed soon after by Rossi who looks like he might shake the man but just hugs him tight and plants an absurdly embarrassing kiss on his cheek that finally cracks Hotch’s expression into something like a smile. Everyone hugs, everyone, Savannah calls him Aaron instead of Hotch because that was how he’d introduced himself all those years ago, the twins wave shyly and he shakes hands with the newer members that never got to meet him but have heard very tall tales about him for years and years. 

(And y’all, it would be the best damn scene and I would sob like a baby watching it.)

Morgan would be the one that would hold back and let the others go first, but it would also be the most profound when Hotch goes to shake his hand and the other man uses that to pull him into a tight hug of his own. 

“I’m glad you can still hold your own,” he’ll tease with nearly no heat behind it. Hotch hears it for the caring that it is.

“Like hell I would let that happen twice in my own home,” he assures him. 

Everyone settles down, and Emily leads some finer points of what’s going to happen with everyone in the next few hours. Days. Weeks, even, because there’s no knowing what is going to happen next. Hotch observes her, and there HAS to be a shot where she glances over to him and they share a look of understanding -- because she is Unit Chief now, and he approves of what he sees. 

But she turns the floor over to him, and Hotch explains what’s going on.

((I’m going to leave the finer points out about the case and the unsub, mostly because I haven’t finished ironing them out yet and I hope once I watch the remaining season I will be able to much more easily))

But at SOME POINT in the briefing, when Hotch is explaining what happened with the assassin in his home and how he apprehended him, and Emily maybe interjects with the injuries sustained and that they are still waiting for the man to regain consciousness. Penelope will 100% lean over to where Jack is sitting beside her and say without flinching, “Your dad is such a bad ass.”

((I also plan on bringing up Reid was in prison in this scene but it will be more humorous than anything because of Hotch’s reaction, stay tuned on that one. Again I’m not there yet))

((and where I’m taking them is also a secret because I need to do research and it will be so damn cool, but Hotch has everything completely planned out -- like he does. Goes as far as asking the few who question him “Secure enough for you?” when he drops where they will be staying and the protection they will have. Full blown mic drop moment.))

“So gather all of your belongings that you have here. Secure pets and homes, call the kid’s schools, whatever you need to do,” Hotch informs them, stepping back into his old shoes as team leader without even meaning to. But no one tells him to stop. “We need to be in the air ASAP, the jet is being prepped as we speak so we need to move on this.”

He leaves it at that, and everyone doesn’t move. Watching, waiting, smirking a little bit (Penelope, maybe even Reid), until he gives in.

“Wheels up in 30.”

Garcia giggles so much she near cackles with it. “Oh, I just got goosebumps!” And by Emily’s smirk and Morgan’s shared grin with Reid, a million watts between them, everyone is up and moving and pulling out cell phones to get their affairs in order.

Rossi sidles up to Hotch at that point, also openly smirking that they got him to say those four time-honored words. “Welcome back, Aaron.”

And Hotch, well -- he looks around the room at the family he had to leave behind without any hope of seeing them again, and feels every hardened edge in his face and demeanor soften. Before he looks to Dave and tells him what’s been going through his head ever since he walked back through the doors of the BAU.

“It’s good to be home.”

((END SCENE))

[1kook]

skirt chasers - drabble i

a skirt chasers drabble bc they are my fave fictional couple to date <333

tags: coupley and domestic, jk’s terrible attempts at seducing via text, making out, dry humping, spitting (ik idk what came over me), too much talking for this to be sexual pero hey here we are wc: like 3k

entirely based off jungkook from bv3 that man had NO right to look that good and  the holy jirkenstocks (jungkook birkenstocks). wont lie this has been completely written in my drafts since November (yes 2019) and i hoarded it under the belief i would make this a whole part 2 which i did not 

que dios los bendiga <3

-

Much to everyone’s dismay, Jungkook’s spring break in Vegas with the boys is cut three days short when Jimin’s dog sitter suddenly cancels, citing a case of homesickness as enough cause to abruptly go home. When you first hear news of this, you’re preparing yourself for the return of a mopey, useless Jungkook, too drained from four glorious days in Las Vegas to carry on. What you’re not expecting is the mysterious text he sends you before boarding a five hour flight with no service (he was cheap).

kook still on vegas lockdown. Have that pussy ready when i get home

“The fuck does that mean?” Chaeyoung is the first to see the message, your screen lighting up on the kitchen counter beside you as you scrub through a mountainous pile of dishes. You try to play it off, after all, Chaeyoung had seen parts of you you hadn’t even seen, but there was no worse embarrassment than having your homegirls see your clown of a boyfriend’s ridiculousness. “He’s so romantic,” she swoons, and you shoo her away from the offending device as you wipe your hands down on your t-shirt. 

you for what?? One 20 second round 🤥

Chaeyoung suddenly cackles from over your shoulder, and you swear your soul leaves your body. 

You don’t get a response until exactly five hours and thirteen minutes later, your phone vibrating like crazy on the edge of your bathtub, and if you hadn’t given it a hearty kick and sent it flying across the room, front screen shattering into the most intricate spider web of glass shards, it would have fallen into the water. The terror. 

kook pls pick me up 

kook also haha. U r soooo funny 😑

You’re halfway to the airport, idly sitting in traffic and giving the public a free, Beyonce-like experience of The Script’s Breakeven, when you realize you’re not wearing any pants. You’re not exactly sure which part of Jungkook’s long t-shirt had tricked you into believing you were decently dressed, but you’re not too mad. After all, Jungkook’s trip with the boys had been a last minute decision that did not take into consideration your never-ending thirst for your boyfriend, so a little payback never hurt anybody. 

He’s sitting on top of his suitcase outside the airport when you get there, cute Birkenstock-clad feet swinging back and forth as he waits for you like the good boy he is. He crouches down by the passenger window, “Uh, yeah, is this the Uber?” 

You can’t even bother hiding the smile that consumes your face, and it only grows tenfold when he finally gets in and immediately leans over the center console to kiss you. “Look who’s finally back from their little bachelor party,” you murmur, eyes lidded dangerously low when he breaks away. 

“Oh, the party where I accidentally sleep away my life-savings to a stripper named Aries and then have to go home and beg for my wife’s forgiveness?” He responds immediately, devious pink tongue swiping out to lick at your bottom lip. 

You snort. “Joke’s on you, because our hot pool boy kept me company and treated me better in four days than my husband had in six years,” you mumble, finger looping into the silver chain around his neck to pull him close again. 

“Not our hot pool boy,” he whines, smile pressed adorably to your lips. 

You almost retort, but a ten-second horn blast from the car behind you has the two of you jumping three feet from each other, like teenagers caught making out in the school parking lot. 

-

Just as you’d predicted via text, Jungkook barely has the energy to walk up the steps to your apartment, much less fuck you like he’d promised. “Fuck, stop being healthy and let us take the elevator,” he grunts, pushing his suitcase onto the final platform leading to your floor.

“Nope,” you concede. “The stairs give me a good view of your ass going up.”

He shoots you a scandalized look, like you’re an old man who’d just catcalled him on the street. “Pretty sure that’s my line.”

It’s when you’re unlocking the front door, sending out a little prayer to the heavens (Chaeyoung) for the blessing of an empty apartment, that he notices your lack of proper clothing. “Oh, hell no,” he groans, immediately crowding you against the armchair nearest the door. 

You laugh, struggling to turn to face him as he nuzzles his face into your neck. “What seems to be the problem?”

He sighs against the shell of your ear, and you’d be a liar to say it didn’t send a gush of wetness to your core. Jesus, just a single puff of air from Jungkook was enough to turn your coochie into a Fruit Gusher. “Not your sexy legs again,” he whines, and you giggle when he presses those pouty lips to yours. 

“Thought I was supposed to have this pussy ready for you,” you tease, tilting your head up until your noses brush against each other. Jungkook lets a soft huff of a sigh go, eyes fluttering shut at your close proximity. 

There’s a hand that creeps along the back of your thigh, fingers pressing into the soft skin until he finally guides it upwards, hitched over his hip. The new position has your body curving backwards, tilted over the edge of the couch as he continues crowding closer and closer to you. “Baby,” he whines, and the tone and sudden usage of your favorite nickname wipes the teasing smile off your face. “I missed you so much,” he purrs, in that tone that says he knows he has you under his complete control, all he has to do is take care of you. 

Still, you try to put up some sort of a fight. “I’m sure your eyes were kept entertained in Vegas,” you retort weakly, not even bothering to hide the jealousy in your tone. 

Jungkook laughs, before puckering his lips and smothering you. Instantly, you throw your arms around his broad shoulders to pull him closer. His hair tickles your face from how long it’s gotten, and when you brush it back, collecting it into a makeshift baby ponytail, you can’t even enjoy the sight because Jungkook is pressing his rock hard member against your inner thigh. 

“You think I’m a cheater?” He muses when he finally pulls away, a little entranced by the saliva that coats your lips in a thin sheen. “Couldn’t be even if I wanted to.” Before you can ask what that even means, he’s hauling you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his tiny waist, his cock now cradled between your thighs, right where you want him most. You moan immediately, head lolling backwards at the touch you’d craved for days. “Feel that? No one gets my dick hard like you do, baby.”

Even though his adrenaline is on one hundred, and he’s clearly blinded by his lust, Jungkook still sets you down on the bed like you’re made of glass. Any comments you may have made are smothered by his lips on yours, fingers gripping your waist like it’s the first time he’s ever touched you. When he pulls away, his eyes are dark and his breath is a little heavy where it fans against the lower half of your face. 

“So pretty,” he huffs, rolling his hips against yours. You groan, eyes rolling back as the familiar feeling of your boyfriend between your legs consumes you. Jungkook presses his mouth against the skin of your neck, where the faintest sheen of sweat had begun to form the moment you unlocked the front door. 

If you thought you were loud, the sounds leaving Jungkook’s throat are teetering on the edge between a pornstar and a yodelling-enthusiast. You can’t help the smirk crossing your features. “Are you really gonna come?”

Jungkook was many things, and drama queen was definitely very high on that list. He gives you the most scandalized expression, stopping the movement of his hips to scoff. “As if,” he snorts, but you know that little eyebrow furrow a little too well. 

You snort, reaching down to his sides as you try to discreetly urge him to start up again. “Baby, your jaw is twitching,” you point out, a soft whine leaving your lips when he shifts your leg up. It’s this same sound that has him finally moving again. 

“Yeah, well,” he groans, one hand deathly gripping into your hip now, pressing you down onto the bed so hard you feel the comforter will swallow you up any minute now. “I just got my wisdom teeth removed, ‘member?”

Your retort is briefly cut off by the cry you let out when he ducks down to suck a mark beneath your jaw. “M-Months ago,” you weakly respond, 

Jungkook ignores you in favor of using his Hulk strength to fold you in half, groans borderline animalistic as he grinds his cock into your soaked panties. His jaw is tight like you’d said, but you can tell he’s holding himself back. He hated coming before you, seldom doing it unless it was one of those rare days where he wanted you to pamper him. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, swallowing your pitiful whines before pushing his tongue down your throat. There was something sexy about your boyfriend being so turned on that his saliva production was off the charts. “You’re gonna ask me to do that thing again, aren’t you?” He predicts. 

All you can do is nod, and Jungkook smirks. “Ah,” he says, much like a doctor would, and you comply, mouth wide. You see the muscles beneath his jaw twitch, and a moment later he’s leaning over you with puckered lips, a glob of saliva begging to drip down. 

The moan that catches in your throat has him smiling, tongue peeking out to cut the bridge of saliva that connected the two of you, and you want to tell him you love him, but then he’s raising his eyebrows at you, motioning for you to swallow, so you do. “Absolutely filthy,” he grins, and then returns to thrusting against you. 

As much as you liked to tease him, he’s good at fulfilling the sexual aspects of his boyfriend role, and he guides you to your orgasm moments later. Of course, he does so by toying with your tits just the way you like, lips pressed firmly to yours as you become a boneless heap beneath him. “That’s it, pretty baby,” he murmurs, pressing one final kiss to your lips before he’s shifting back onto his haunches, tugging you closer until the backs of your knees are cradled carefully in his elbows. 

Despite your transcended state, you love watching Jungkook get himself off, and your eyes flutter as you watch him thrust sloppily against your soiled panties. They’re soaked by your own arousal, and had Jungkook’s sweats not been as dark as they were, you’re almost certain you’d see how they stained. 

He comes a moment later, body twitching and fingers tightening against your skin. His chest heaves, head lolling back as he tries to regain his senses. Silence envelopes the room. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You blurt, no longer able to pretend like something isn’t completely wrong. 

Jungkook rolls his neck out, a satisfying crack resounding, as he angles to look at you again. His tongue is poking against his cheek in that cocky way it does sometimes, and he furrows his brows at you. “What?”

You shuffle up onto your elbows, motioning towards him with the vaguest wave possible. He blinks. You groan. 

“What did you do?” You question, and immediately his eyes go wide and shiny in that way they do when you’re reprimanding him and he doesn’t see the wrong in his ways. 

Cute little lips forming a pout he remains as confused. “Nothing? We really just went to fuck around and get drunk—“

“Kook.”

“You don’t actually think I cheated, I thought we were just joking? Unless…” he trails off, doe eyes suddenly filled with fear. “You weren’t?”

“Jungkook—“

He intercepts you, “did you do something while I was gone? Who was he? Or she? Wow,” he huffs to himself in disbelief. “I don’t even know you well enough to know if you’re into more than just men.” The frown on his face is getting deeper with each word he utters and you almost can’t believe how dumb he could be. “No wonder… am I a terrible boyfriend?” He asks, voice louder and more concerned than it’s been all night. 

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” You say, and Jungkook looks just as lost by your response as you are with his. “Because I’m talking about whatever this is,” you explain, reaching up to drag a hand through his dual-colored locks. 

They’d been carefully tucked under his bucket hat when you’d picked him up, a tuft of blonde peeking out from in front of his ear. It wasn’t until he’d tipped you over the side of the couch that it had tumbled off. Of course, at the time, there had been other pressing matters at hand than wondering why your Hannah Montana blonde boyfriend had returned as Todoroki, which is why you’d waited until now to revisit the topic. 

Jungkook doesn’t move for a solid ten seconds. Then, as if processing the emotional episode he’d just given you, he gives you a sheepish smile. It’s one of those smiles where his lips press together thinly and cutely and the apples of his cheeks seem like the squishiest things in the world. “Oh…” he says, voice soft and nothing like the man that spit in your mouth five minutes ago. “You like it?”

[phoebehalliwell]

Oh could u do Prue/Micah? S4

okay okay okay so we're doing all hallow's eve in early s3 micah's reincarnation does Not show up at the end of the episode because we're saving him for something bigger. but we'll say that something on a later vanquish a physical item triggers something in prue she's like hey does that remind you of anything?? and piper and phoebe are like ??? no? it's just a(n) [item]? and prue's like really? nothing? and they're like idk what does it remind you of and she's like i don't know... the past? samhain, maybe? do you think it's one of our ancestor's? and piper and phoebe are like prue i don't know can we get out of here??? and she's like yeah yeah but she takes it with her and like. uses her auction house knowledge to like correctly id it back to the time they were in salem (or not maybe idk but if it is from the past she realizes that a) either it was something micah owned or b) it was the knife that killed him. if it's neither of those than it's modern and she can't figure out what about it is calling to her). the plot is kind of dropped. then, we enter s4, the battle with the source is on the horizon cole is. we'll say still on their side, successful relationship with phoebe. cole is the first one to pitch going on the offensive, which prue is first to back, then phoebe, and begrudgingly piper. leo's still not a fan but phoebe gets a premonition of something something darklighter so let's stamp that out before it begins. so they shimmer down with cole to the underworld leo doesn't go with them bc well. a) he can't sense as well down there so he won't really be able to find them if they get separated which leads to b) of they're separated the girls have no way out of hell and as a sidenote c) he's a whitelighter. so if the darklighters get him they Also have no way out of hell. so leo stays topside and cole's their ride. something something something they're closing in on where the clan lives or maybe their weapons forge and there's a darklighter just outside piper blow him up no wait and prue like Jumps in front of her and piper quickly deflects and hits the cavern wall next to them and wants to yell what the hell prue but it's too late because all hell breaks loose the darklighters were there waiting for them the seer foresaw this so they all duck for cover prue throws a couple phoebe karate chops cole energy balls piper blows up em and will occasionally freeze the cavern for a couple seconds but she still doesn't have a hold on her powers, but phoebe while fighting one of them gets a premonition: leo, shot. and over the din she's like it's a diversion, they're gonna kill leo like we have to get to leo but they're all hella spread apart right now so in one of piper's freezes cole gets to phoebe and another the pair get to piper but prue's still to far away she redirects an arrow that nearly hits phoebe in the hed she's like there's no time go!! and they're like no!! but prue just squints at cole and cole understands and shimmers them out of there and we'll say the guy who she initially dove in front of was knocked out by like rocks from piper's blast well he's coming to and see's prue fighting for her life and like. you know just starts to stir and prue spares a glance at him and he recognizes her just like he did in puritan times and he's like ...you saved me and prue looks at him and again connection but she can't find the words to say because she has to get right back to kicking ass, we'll say an arrow flies right past her face like through her hair she ducks down again like can you get us out of here? and he just like barely sits up head cradled in one hand, he's bleeding, but he just nods and places his other on prue's shoulder and black orbs them out and now they're in like a loft in san francisco prue still in fight mode and micah still bleeding from a head wound and he just kind of collapses on the ground and prue's like !!! oh shit.

back @ the manor leo's just been shot and piper's running over like help me get him to the attic i'll swap our powers you guys get out of the house so you're not affected go get prue and leo's like ??? go get her and cole's like she's still with the darklighters and leo's like no she's topside she's in the city and they're all like how??? and piper's like who gives a shit how help me get him to the attic then give me some space so phoebe and cole wait in the outside lil backyard type thing they have maybe we get a phole scene piper swaps powers and heals leo but he's still weak and piper hear's prue's call and leo's like go i'm still too weak to heal and piper's i'm not leaving you not while they're out there and leo's like hey don't worry you're still with me right ad blows up idk a lamp and piper just kind of smiles like okay but if you're gonna blow anything else up try to hit that vase because i've always hated it

piper goes downstairs gets phoebe and cole like okay let's go get prue and she orbs them all out into this loft where prue has got this guy slumped over his table pressing a damp towel to his head but jesus that's a lot of blood and she's like leo thank g- where's leo and piper's like he's resting he was shot so i had to tap in. and prue's like you can heal? and piper's like uh huh and prue's like okay great heal him and piper moves forward and then stops because prue is that the darklighter? and prue's like yes but you don't understand and piper's like what part of healing a Darklighter don't i understand prue when they Just tried to kill my husband now you're trying to save him and prue's like come on doesn't he look familiar to you and piper's looking at him like ew bc she can hardly see past the bloodcovered face but phoebe wanders forward and cole instinctively tries to hold her back bc Evil but she just kind of shakes him off bc she knows what she's doing and cole relents and she puts a hand up to his shoulder and she's like it is him. and prue's lookin like exactly! and piper's like who??? and prue's like micah and he stirs at the sound of his own name and piper's like Who??? and prue's like don't you remember he saved our necks--literally--multiple times; he died for us and it's clicking piper's like In Puritan Times??? and cole kinda blanches bc he Might have killed that guy i can't remember and prue's like piper for the amount of times he's saved us, please, just heal him and piper's like you get that that was centuries ago right? a lot changes in a couple hundred years; he's a darklighter now and prue's like piper. please. and piper relents bc what can she say she trusts prue. and micah comes to and sees cole and stumbles back like hits the ground again and prue's like no no it's okay and he looks at her and it's like we can see his world fade around him and just focus on prue and his hand flies up to his head and finds no blood and prue's like it's okay, you're healed and micah's like so that'd be the second time you've saved my neck today? and prue's like consider it returning the favor and piper's like okay well I'm breaking up the balcony scene this time how did the darklighters know we were coming? and micah's like this woman. she visited us and said you were coming, you were leaving your whitelighter vulnerable... and they're like what woman and cole's like the seer. and micah just nods and he's like i've read about you, you know, what you've done, i was hoping i could get away to warn you before... and piper's like Why. Why would you betray your own people and micah's like because i can see what dark magic can do... and it can't be undone [to later be revealed tragic backstory!! micah was raised by his mother topside or maybe his father and we get a complex darklighter situation with his mom potentially even having her defect but no matter when micah was like. idk twelve or something?? there was this bully in school and we're trying to stay with charmed morality and justify this so we'll say this kid was like serial killer bad killed puppies for fun type bad and he was a bully and micah was standing up to him #feminism when they got into a fight and micah was losing like Really losing like about to be beat to death at age twelve losing when his hand started glowing red and he shoved it against the bully and next the you know that kid was fucking dead. micah had killed a guy before he had even gone through puberty. oof. anyways top ten defining moments tried existing on the dl but has also killed a couple other people and we'll keep them Bad murderers and rapists but it's still like you end up in a bar fight and then the next thing you know that guy is dead and it doesn't matter what a cunt he was it doesn't matter than you didn't mean to do it you just have a power you don't know how to control no all that matters is you're getting manslaughter at best unless you go with this man who claims to be your uncle who can teleport like you who has the same deathtouch who can teach you to control your power].

blah blah blah plot progression all that prue and micah fall in love relatively quickly because they can feel that tug in their souls (SIDE TANGENT: i've already said before i like wyatt as a reincarnation of melinda warren but what if prue was Also a reincarnation of melinda warren, ipso facto wyatt is also prue reincarnated retconning why they can't summon her spirit. 👀?) but but BUT the seer foresaw this she new micah would turn to the side of good so she planted something that blew up in a metaphorical sense so now they don't know if they can trust micah prue wants to trust him but she doesn't want to put her family in danger if he really is in league with the source phoebe is advocating for her to follow her heart and piper is Hard No against micah like even before like she really didn't want him around before this bomb dropped even more so now and prue's like okay what's your beef and piper's like he's not safe to have around prue he's a damn darklighter and prue's like you know you keep like using that against him leo doesn't even care why are you so hung up on this and piper's like leo's safety isn't the only one at risk here!! and prue's like what you have some secret whitelighter you haven't told us about?? and piper is just silent and stubborn and prue's still in fight stance until it clicks and she's like piper... and piper's like still not talking and prue's like piper,,, are you pregnant? and piper's like no you know what i shouldn't even have said anything forget you even heard anything and prue's like ???? piper this is great news why why didn't you tell us and tries to hug her and piper just ducks away and prue's like heart is breaking watching her like this because piper's like really maternal she'd be a great mom so why isn't she happy and piper just looks at prue like : ( i didn't tell you because this isn't the first time this has happened. and prue's like ??? and piper's like towards the end of s3,,, i thought i was. well, no. i was pregnant. and, um. i was scared, because of all the demon fighting and everything, but i was excited prue i was so excited to be a mom and then a couple weeks later,,, and gets all choked up and prue just pulls her into a really big hug like sweetie why didn't you tell us and piper's just crying like i don't know we already have so much with the source and with the fighting every day,, i didn't want you guys to feel like i did, you're already going through so much and prue's like honey You're Going Through So Much and just know we're always here for you forget the source and his sorry ass forget the seer nothing's more important that you okay nothing's more important and piper's just okay okay : ((((.

so anyways we vanquish the source for the midseason finale but now we have the seer the real mastermind as the s4b villain and she's got her eyes set on a great prized: a prophesied baby. in one episode prue and micah get knocked back into a past life regression where they keep slipping back further and further in time and they keep finding each other in each life but they need to get out of here and piper leo phoebe cole are on the outside trying to get them out because if they reach their first life their life where their soul was new and slip back further, there's no way to bring them back after that we're not killing prue lol but what that really does is just cements prue and micah's place together like In Every Life they had each other in one form or another they were always destined to find each other....... fin <3

[honeypwark]

[ Strawberries ]

  ↳ Fake Love era

       ↳ Yeosu and Johnny spend the morning together. Hoseok and Jungkook come to visit unexpectedly. Yeosu fails to get them to leave.

Note: Uuuuh content warning? Ages 14+?? Idk, there’s some “if it was on TV it’d be censored with a blanket and convenient camera angles” smutty stuff, so nothing in detail. But still: read with care, children.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Yeosu runs her fingers delicately over Johnny’s back, up to his shoulders and down his arm before retracing her path. She admires how her fingertips leave goosebumps on his skin, minuscule shadows cast over the expanse of his back by the morning sun that shines through the windows. She smooths her palm over his shoulder blades then rests her hand on his shoulder and runs her thumb over his skin. Johnny lifts his head and rests his chin on her chest, looking up at her.

“You know, I love you, right?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Of course I do,” Yeosu assures him softly. “I love you, too.”

Johnny clutches his heart dramatically as she speaks.

“First thing in the morning and you’re already giving me heart palpitations,” he says.

Yeosu giggles.

He finds her hand under the blanket and brings it to his lips, kissing her knuckles then her fingers and her fingertips. She intertwines their fingers and tugs at his hand, pressing the back of his hand to her own mouth.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s illegal,” he tells her.

“Is it?”

“You can’t just steal my heart like that.”

“But I assume I already took it from you a while ago.”

Johnny pushes himself up, “You’d assume correctly, then.”

He leans down and connects their lips. She cups his face, too absorbed in the kiss to notice one of his hands traveling south. She jumps when she feels it.

“Excuse you.”

“My apologies, ma’am,” he says, “May I?”

“Hm, let me think about it,” she muses.

She plays with the hair at the name of his neck, humming as she looks off to the side for a moment. She looks back up at him.

“Has the lady made a decision?” Johnny asks.

“The lady has decided to accept your request.”

“I’d hoped she might.”

Yeosu laughs again, cut off as Johnny kisses her again. He swallows her moan and adjusts himself to be better positioned over her.

Five minutes and a position change later, Yeosu holds onto Johnny’s shoulders as he moves above her.

“Good?” he asks breathlessly.

“No,” she moans, “Absolutely terrible.”

“Yeah, I hate it, too.”

They laugh, nothing serious about their intimacy at the moment. Johnny kisses her then trails his lips to her neck.

“When’s your next schedule?” he asks.

“Why?”

“Want to know if I can give you a hickey or not.”

“We’ve got- oh my god.”

Johnny laughs into her neck as she’s cut off when he changes the angle of his hips.

She smacks his shoulder, “Shut up.”

“Sorry.”

“But we’ve got- ah- Run BTS filming in two days so- Jesus- I’d say no.”

“Fine,” Johnny sighs.

He keeps his head nestled in the crook of her neck, one of his hands gripping her waist. She holds tightly onto him, gripping his arm and tugging at his hair.

“You want to know something?” she asks breathlessly.

“What?”

“I know you lied to me.”

Johnny halts and he pushes himself up to look at Yeosu, “What?”

“About your girlfriends.”

“I didn’t- huh?”

“You told me you only ever dated girls in America.”

“What are you-... Katie.”

“Katie,” Yeosu repeats his member’s name.

“Okay, in my defense, we literally never talk about it because it was so awkward.  I forgot; that’s the only reason I didn’t tell you.  And we only dated for two weeks, like, five years ago.”

“I suppose I’ll let it slide.”

“I can make it up to you,” Johnny says.

“How are you going to do that?”

Yeosu’s hand flies to Johnny’s arm as he starts moving again.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll let it slide.”

Johnny laughs a low chuckle and continues his movements.  Then he stops.

“How did you find out about me and Katie?”

Yeosu blinks up at him, “Ten and I meet for lunch on Sundays when we’re both free.”

“Why was I not aware of this?”

Yeosu shrugs, “It never came up.  He tells me all of your dirty little secrets.”

“And yet you still love me?”

“It’s the hair.”

Johnny laughs, “I’m going to have to have a talk with Ten about that.”

“About your hair?”

“You know what I meant.”

Johnny begins moving again and the two get lost in each other.  Johnny kisses Yeosu’s neck, sucking lightly but not leaving marks despite how badly he wants to.  For several minutes, they go on like that.  Until their intimate moment it abruptly interrupted.

“Noona!”

Johnny and Yeosu go completely still.

“Hobi hyung and I came to visit and brought strawberries from the farmer’s market!” Jungkook calls to her.

Yeosu shoves Johnny off of her and scrambles to stand, “Hang on, I just finished blow drying my hair; give me a second to get dressed!”

“I thought you were going to talk to them about showing up randomly!” Johnny whisper-shouts at her.

“Well, I haven’t yet!”

“You might want to consider it!”

“Wow, really?!”

Yeosu runs to her closet and throws on underwear and jeans. She positive her bra is twisted but doesn’t bother fixing it before grabbing a random shirt to throw on over it all. She nearly makes her scalp bleed with how fast she brushes her hair. She exits her closet to find Johnny standing in the middle of her room in nothing but his boxers.

She gestures at him with emphasis.

He gestures back with his hands helplessly.

She pinches the bridge of her nose then pointedly whispers, “Do not leave this room until I get rid of them. If they come in, hide in the closet.”

“You’re a grown woman living on your own and you’re resorting to hiding your boyfriend in the closet?”

“Yes.”

“We’re talking about this later.”

“Looking forward for it.”

Yeosu fixes her shirt then leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Hi, noona!” Jungkook greets her happily, bounding over to hug her hello.

She catches his hug with ease, “Hey, Kookie.”

She’s suddenly acutely aware of how shaky her legs still are as she walks with Jungkook to the kitchen where Hoseok stands. There’s a carton of ripe strawberries on the kitchen table.

“Thanks so much for the strawberries, but you should have texted me. I’m heading out to grab brunch with a friend soon; could have saved you the trip.”

“We don’t mind,” Hoseok says.

I do, Yeosu thinks.

“I’m going to have to sit you all down to talk about showing up randomly,” Yeosu scolds them, forcing a joking tone when she wants to be serious.

“Can we still hang out here even if you’re heading out? I wanted to watch Iron Man and you’ve got it on DVD,” Jungkook says.

“You’re still on your Iron Man shtick?” Yeosu teases him.

“Only because it’s a great movie series and he’s an awesome character.”

“Wouldn’t you two prefer to watch the movie back at the dorm? I’ll let you borrow the movie.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“This way we don’t have to worry about giving it back to you,” Hoseok adds.

“Yeah, I guess, haha.”

Yeosu watches helplessly as her members walk over to her living room and begin searching through the bottom of her entertainment center for Iron Man. Normally, this would be totally fine. She honestly doesn’t care if her members come and make themselves at home in her apartment. Wherein the problem lies, because she can’t kick them out without seeming completely out of character and raising suspicion.

Yeosu goes to wash the strawberries at the kitchen sink, her back to the two boys as she tries to think of a way to get them to leave.  With the lie she’s weaved, she’ll have to leave her apartment soon and leave Johnny, who is still hidden in her room, alone.

“Hang on, hyung,” Jungkook speaks up, “I just got a text from Jaehyun asking to hang out.”

“Are you flaking on me?”

“Aaaaand... send. Yes, I am.”

Yeosu turns around to see Jungkook pocketing his phone while Hoseok stares at him in betrayal.

“You can’t leave me; you drove us here,” Hoseok says.

“Jungkook can drop you back off at the dorm,” Yeosu seizes the opportunity presented. “You can still borrow the movie and watch it there.”

“And you’re going out...” Hoseok sighs, “Guess I have no choice unless I want to be stranded and abandoned. No one in this group loves me.”

Yeosu can feel the weight lifting off her shoulders as Jungkook and Hoseok walk over to the entryway to put their shoes back on.

“Of course, we love you, Hobi,” Yeosu assures him.

“I’m beginning to doubt it.”

“Well, this is why you shouldn’t show up unannounced,” Yeosu chides lightly.

“Are you serious about that?” Hoseok asks.

“I love you all and you can come over whenever, just text beforehand.”

“Alright, we will.”

“Thank you.”

Hoseok hugs Yeosu goodbye, “Bye, noona.”

Jungkook hugs her as well, “Bye.”

“Bye, boys.”

She sees them out, waving at them as they walk down the hall. She shuts the door softly and leans forward against it, resting her forehead on the wood with a loud sigh of relief.

“You’re welcome.”

Yeosu turns to look over her shoulder. Johnny, still clad in only his boxers, stands beside the kitchen table.

“Did you text Jaehyun?”

“Yep. I knew the second I heard Jungkook’s voice that you wouldn’t be able to kick out your baby when it came down to it. I have to do the dishes for him for a month now.”

“What, does he secretly hate Jungkook and you had to bribe him to hang out with him?”

“No, Jae’s just a brat.”

Yeosu snickers at that, “Well, now we can have strawberries with breakfast. What are you in the mood for? I was thinking pancakes.”

“Hey, hey, hey.”

Johnny catches her wrist as she walks toward the kitchen. He tugs her toward him and spins her around so her back is pressed to his chest. He wraps his arms around her.

“What?” she asks, voice light.

“I believe we were in the middle of something,” Johnny says in her ear, “Before your members so rudely interrupted.”

“Were we? I don’t quite remember...”

Johnny hums humorlessly. He reaches in front of her and unbuttons her jeans. He turns her around in his arms and kneels down, tugging her jeans the rest of the way down her legs until she can step out of them. He stands back up, cupping her face delicately as he looks down at her.

“Allow me to enlighten you.”

He leans the rest of the way down and connects their lips. He bends down further, finding the backs of her thighs to lift her up. She wraps her legs around his waist and he holds her up easily. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, smiling into the kiss as he carries her back to their bedroom.

[yikesharringrove]

Hi there! Can I get something with #13 and #39 with lots of hurt!Billy?, please friend?

Thank you for your request!

13: “Does it hurt?”

39: Stranded with a broken-down car

Prompts!

This got very long, and very angsty although I tried to throw some sweetness around. I hope you enjoy! I have included a lot of my own headcanons about Billy’s mom and his early life soooo. I was also thinking this takes place after season 2, maybe late April? idk.

There isn’t all that much hurt Billy, more Billy’s hurt leads him to word vomiting at Steve and them bonding 🤷‍♀️ I really hope you like it though!

Steve was fucked.

The engine of the BMW was cold. It wouldn’t even try to turn over when he turned the key in the ignition. No sound came from the under the hood.

Steve was on the edge of Hawkins, he had been at the quarry, wiling away some time while he couldn’t sleep. It was probably close to four in the morning now, so he said fuck it, got out of the car, and started walking home. He would hopefully make it with enough time for a shower and some coffee before walking to school. Maybe his old ten-speed was in the garage still...

Headlights blared at him from around the corner, sweeping over and past him before the car stopped and reversed, pulling up with the passenger door at Steve’s elbow.

“Harrington, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Billy Hargrove, his knight in shining denim was speaking through the window, near shouting over the loud purr of the engine and the screaming of some metal band Steve didn’t bother to know the name of.

“I’m walking.”

“I see that, dumbshit. Why are you walking down the fucking highway at four-thirty in the fucking morning?”

“Car broke down by the quarry. Figured I would walk home.” Steve shuffled his feet, looking down. “I, uh, couldn’t sleep. So. Went for a drive.”

“Get in.” He almost didn’t hear Billy’s command, but Steve knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth. So, he got in.

“Thanks, man.” Billy just nodded slightly, his face mostly hidden by the darkness of the night. He floored the car, speeding along away from Hawkins. “Um, you know my house is-it’s the other way.” Steve took in how tense Billy was, his jaw clamped and his shoulders raised. His grip on the steering wheel was nothing like the lazy one-hand her usually kept.

“You ever just need to escape? Even for a little bit?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I really do.” Steve settled in his seat. He was not opposed to taking a drive with Billy, who seemed to relax a bit. Steve was always good at reading other people. Sometimes he ignored his gut feelings in favor of something he so desperately wanted (the whole Nancy situation was example enough for that), but he could tell when something was wrong. And something was really fuckin wrong with Billy Hargrove tonight.

They drove in silence, flying down the main highway, past the Leaving Hawkins sign.

Steve turned down the music a fraction. “You wanna go get breakfast? I know a good all diner in Indianapolis. They’ll probably be open by the time we get there. My treat.”

Billy just shrugged, but he didn’t turn the music back up, and Steve called that a win.

It was nearly two hours to the city, longer if the person driving you wasn’t a speed demon, so the sun was rising by the time fields began to give way into suburbs, suburbs blooming into urbanism.

Steve sat up, ready to direct Billy to the diner on the corner of Shelby and Norton when he caught sight of Billy in the weak morning sun.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Billy, what happened?” His left eye was puffy, the cheekbone below it swollen and purple, a cut right on the high point. His jaw had long bruises on either side, as though, well it looked as though someone had grabbed him by it.

Steve thinks the worst thing were Billy’s hands.

His knuckles were white, his grip a vice on the steering wheel, but they were free of any bruising, any splits. Steve had been on the receiving end of those fights. He knew Billy fought back, and well, so if he didn’t.

Maybe he couldn’t.

The thought sent a chill down Steve’s spine.

“Can it Harrington. I’m fucking fine.”

“You’re obviously not ‘fucking fine’, Billy. What happened? Who did this?”

“Look, Princess. I’m not one of your fucking kids, so just shut your fucking mouth and leave it the fuck alone or I will make you get out of my fucking car and WALK back to shithole Hawkins. Give me directions, or get out.”

Steve sighed and led Billy along, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

They pulled up in front of Joe’s Shelby Street Diner just as a kind looking waitress with a round face and a gray ponytail was flipping the sign from closed to open.

“Welcome in boys. Take a seat anywhere you like and I’ll be by with some menus.” She blinked at Billy’s face. “And some coffee.” Steve just nodded at her and led Billy to a corner both against the windows.

“My parents used to take me here.” Steve was staring down at his hands on the table, not knowing where to look. “When I was little my dad opened a branch in the city and got an apartment out here. He would only come home on weekends so every Tuesday my mom would pick me up from school, and we’d drive out here together, and meet my dad for dinner.” He doesn’t know why he’s telling billy all of this.

“My mom worked at a joint like this. I would come and hang out after school. She would sneak me rootbeer floats and help me with my homework on her breaks.” He was smiling bitterly. Steve had never heard Billy say anything about his mother before.

“What was she like?”

Billy took a breath, his own hands nervously tugging on the sleeves of his jacket. The denim one. Steve liked it.

“She had me real young, dropped outta high school when she got pregnant at fifteen kinda young. My dad was in Vietnam when I was born. Married her when he came back. I was six. She was a total hippie, she got kicked outta her house when she got knocked up, and lived on a commune with a buncha people until my dad came back. I think she only married him so she could have a place to sleep that wasn’t a tent in a field. I don’t remember a lotta that. didn’t eat any meat until I was, like eight years old. And she fuckin’ named me after William Pester, this like hippie leader who was real famous or something. ”

Billy took a break from his story when the kind waitress returned to get their orders, both boys loading up on breakfast. Steve tried not to speak so loud, afraid of breaking this spell he had created in this booth with Billy.

“Once my dad was back in the picture, it was pretty different. He’s an asshole. Made her change everything about herself. She was always real Catholic, but kind of a free spirit. Only listened to the parts of The Bible that were nice and said to love everyone, but my dad said pickin’ and choosin’ from The Bible was just pussyfooting around religion. She didn’t like that.

“He was a piece of shit from the jump. Married her because ‘a good man supports his family’ or some garbage. Good man my ass. He would yell at her about how she was raisin’ me. Said he left to defend our country, and here she was making sure his only son grew up to be a fuckin’, well. He has a few choice words about me.”

Their food was set down before them, Steve absolutely enraptured by everything Billy was saying. They ate in silence for a minute.

“Do you mind if, I mean, did she pass away?” Steve wanted Billy to keep talking. He liked learning more about him. Every word he said only softened the edges, made him so much more human.

“Nah. She left. Packed her shit one night and was just, gone. She called me a few weeks later and I fuckin’ BEGGED her to take me with her, but she wouldn't come back. I think she went back to her commune or something. I haven’t seen her since I was ten.”

“So, you’ve been with your dad ever since?”

“Yeah. He’s not jazzed about it. Always likes to remind me that I’m a bastard. He’s the one that fucked a fifteen-year-old. He was like, twenty when he did that.”Billy rolled his eyes, shoving a piece of toast into his mouth.

“Did he, do,, that?” Steve asked the question slowly, carefully. Billy snapped his eyes up to meet him.

“So what if he did?”

“I mean-I just, does it hurt?” Billy just stared.

“Are you stupid?” Steve recoiled. “Of course it fucking hurts. He got me real good this time. He’s been especially bitter since we moved here.”

“I’m sorry. That was a stupid, stupid question.” Steve pushed around the scrambled egg on his plate. “Why did you guys move here?”

“You want Neil’s fake answer, or do you want the real one?” Billy leaned in conspiratorily. Steve mirrored him without even meaning to. “Can you keep a secret, Pretty Boy?”

Images of tunnels, of monsters, of staring death in the face and charging it with a spiked bat, dreams of hard, muscular masculine bodies flashed through his mind.

“Yeah. I’m good at secrets.”

“So Neil likes to say it’s to get a fresh start. Move somewhere where nobody knows us. We can have a clean slate as a family.” He spat the last few words out. “But the real story is, he wanted to get my gay ass outta liberal, free lovin’ California, to a shitty hick town where I would be the victim of a fuckin’ hate crime if I let my impulses run wild. He caught me with a guy. We weren’t even doing anything good, just makin’ out. Dad went apeshit though. Threw me down some stairs.” He rolled his eyes and casually kept eating like he hadn’t just dropped this enormous fucking bomb on Steve. 

“I’m so sorry, Bill.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t hit me. It wasn’t the first time, sure as shit wasn’t the last.”

“Is that why your mom left?”

“Yeah, she was gettin’ it pretty bad there. I mean, so was I, so I don’t get why she left me there with him. Sometimes I really hate her for it.”

“I’m sor-” Steve cut himself off when Billy gave him a sharp look. “You don’t deserve that, is all.”

“I don’t get you, Harrington. You sit there, after I dumped all this shit on you, gave you some incriminating facts about me, and you just tell me I don’t deserve to get hit by my old man. I beat the shit outta you, remember?”

“Yeah, but honestly, I was being super shady that night. I shouldn’t have lied to you about Max.” Steve shrugged. 

“That wasn’t all you, Harrington. I had gotten into it with my dad about her, how she’s my responsibility and all that, and then Mrs. fuckin’ Wheeler was all over me when I went there-I mean, don’t get me wrong. I definitely flirted a little to get some information from her, but all I really did was like, stand there. I think I ate a cookie. Usually, older women just get a little flustered, but she was, like, into it. So, I was runnin’ pretty hot by the time I met you.”

“Oh my GOD, Karen used to flirt with me all the time! I would just sit and awkwardly smile and be like, yes hello, I am here to see your teenage daughter, since I am her teenage boyfriend.” Billy laughed at that, a real boisterous laugh Steve had never heard from him before. Steve decided he liked it. 

“That’s fucking disgusting. Just because she’s unhappy with her life, doesn’t mean she gets to throw her cat at teenage boys.” Steve choked on his pop, trying not to spew it all over the table. 

“Please never say that again,”  he coughed out as Billy threw his head back and laughed. He slowly regained himself. “And, you know, I mean what I said. I’m good at secrets. I won’t, I’m not gonna tell anybody.” Billy smiled at him. 

“Yeah? King Steve got some secrets? Any you’d like to share with the class? You know, so we’re on even turf here.” Billy winked. Steve’s face went hot. 

“Well, I mean, you and I may have some things in, uh, in common.” 

“What, like shitty dads?”

“No. Well, I mean yes, but other things.”

“Mommy issues?”

“Oh, definitely, but like, OTHER stuff, too.” He willed Billy to understand. He didn’t know if he’d be able to say it out loud. 

Luckily Billy got it. A look of pure shock spread over his face, followed by a huge grin.

“No fuckin’ way. No fuckin’ way you’re gay too, Harrington.”

“Well, I mean. I don’t know.”

Billy’s face fell.

“You don’t know?”

“I mean, like, I like girls. A lot. Like I love girls and everything about them, but there’s also, there’s also guys. And I-there’s definite interest, is what I’m saying.”

Billy smiled again, a softer one this time. 

“That’s okay. Y’know some people are into both. Bisexual, is the word. David Bowie is bisexual. For some people, it’s more about the personality of the person, less the, bits I guess.”

“There’s-I mean-Bowie? Sorry, I just mean, like, there are people like that?”

“Yeah, the whole thing doesn’t have to be black and white if that’s not what you feel.”

“Fuck. That was-thanks man.” Steve mulled the word around in his head. Bisexual. It made sense. It felt, good. “Bisexual.” Billy smiled at him again. He returned it.

Billy checked his watch, yawning like a huge cat. 

“Fuck, Pretty Boy. We should probably head back. If we go fast we could probably only be a little bit late for class. 

“I mean, or we could say fuck it.” 

Billy’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah? What do you suggest we do?”

“I don’t even care man, but it’s been way too long since I’ve been in the city, and I feel like we could both use a break from fucking Hawkins. Plus, I don’t know. I like hanging out with you.”

Steve ducked his head, studying the patch of table by Billy’s left elbow, face hot and undoubtedly red. 

“I could go for a nice day of playing hooky with you.” Steve beamed at Billy, throwing some bills down on the table. 

“Then lets fucking go then.” He bounded back to the Camaro, Billy’s sweet laugh ringing through the diner.

Oh yeah, Steve could definitely get used to this.

[boompowkablam]

Favorite Fic Rec- List # 3

WALKING DEAD LIST

Just a list of some of my favorite stories. I’m gonna act like I remember how to link stuff it will be great. Pairings are going to be Daryl/Glenn and Daryl/Jesus. Maybe a Daryl/Rick thrown in IDK .

     How These Days Grow Long  By Never_Says_Die

This work is COMPLETE!

Written in response to a prompt on The Walking Dead kink meme:

Rick & Co. are finding it increasingly difficult to deal with Daryl's outbursts, his racist remarks, and easily-ignitable temper.  They are in fact, considering just cutting their losses and telling him he has to leave when they come across another group of survivors...one of whom is very, very special to Daryl.

AU in which Glenn and Daryl have been in a relationship for a few years before the ZA, and were separated when Atlanta was overrun.  Each think the other is dead, and Glenn ended up with a different group of survivors while Daryl ended up in the quarry camp.  Story also assumes Merle would've turned his back on Daryl for getting involved with Glenn, so they parted ways long ago.

Action , Adventure, Love , Suspense,Sadness,Longing, Its just everything you want from a fic. Word count 100,538. Pairing Daryl/Glenn

     The Diary of Glenn By  ornategrip

Seasons 1 and 2, as seen through Glenn's diary.

This is so funny I love it! I wish I could make a podfic for it like whoa.

Word count 4,938. Pairing Daryl/Glenn

     Ghosts Among Us  By  TWDObsessive

Daryl sees the dead.  Not the walkers, the twice-dead once they become ghosts.  It started since the turn and he assumes it’s his body’s reaction to the walker infection they all carry.  One by one he experiences losses of loved ones and each of them come to visit him.   And they all seem to be guiding him to Rick.

This was really good but also really sad to me. Mind the tags so you don’t read something upsetting . Word count 6,422. Pairing Daryl/Rick

     Picking Up the Pieces  By  Riastarstruck

When Rick works night duty while recovering from the shooting, he becomes friends with Daryl, the young guy working community service as a janitor in lieu of prison time.

"If you found an animal in an alley and it was raining and you approached it, it would try to bite you. But if you could get it inside and feed it and take it somewhere warm, it would follow you forever. He's got that kind of vibe to him." -Norman Reedus on Daryl Dixon

This one is cute but also makes me feel sad even though it’s not sad.

Word count 21,161. Pairing Daryl/Rick

     While the World Falls Down  By  oleanderedits @oleanderedits​

They were supposed to have ten days to dispute the quickie wedding they'd had the night they'd been drunk. The world went to shit three days later. Part 1 of a series re-write focusing on Glenn, Daryl, Merle, and Maggie as what it means to be 'Family' is stretched, twisted, and redefined by circumstances no one should have to live through. Covers Seasons 1 and 2 and mostly follows the canon storyline.

This is hands down 100% my absolute favorite walking dead fic. It is so good I have read it so many times now. I seriously can not get enough of it.

Word count 48,284. Pairing Daryl/Glenn , Glenn/Maggie , Daryl/Maggie , Daryl/Glenn/Maggie.

     Friction Match  By  vegarin

It's the end of the world. You can be anyone you choose to be."  Daryl Dixon, at the end of the world.

I am not sure what it is about this story that makes me love it so much! I am working on a podfic for it right now so at some point I’ll have a link up for that.

Word Count 24,769. Gen no Paring.

     Fall Into Your Arms. By  doctorkaitlyn @banshee-cheekbones

“I am done with dating.  And I mean it this time.”

Glenn is sick of his friends setting him up.  He’s sick of going on bad dates and he’s sick of getting his hopes up and never hearing anything back.  In all the time he spends not going on dates, he can do things that he actually enjoys, like sleeping or marathoning a television show or trying to find a better job.

He is done with dating.  Seriously.

At least, that's what he says before he meets Daryl.

This is so cute and awkward I love Glenn’s bad luck.

Word Count 4,549. Pairing Daryl/Glenn

     Dear Mr. Hawkeye  By  Psmith73 

@psmith73

AU. Glenn is a struggling student neck-deep in debts. One day while trying to earn some money he gets himself in serious trouble. An anonymous benefactor offers him help in return for weekly emails describing events of his life. Jean Webster's "Daddy-long-legs"/TWD fusion. COMPLETE.

This is really good I dont know why I want to say human disaster Glenn but im  gonna. I think its cause it references marvel hawkeye but also Glenn kind of is.

Word Count 20,552. Pairing Daryl/Glenn.

something keeps pulling me back to you  By  wardeness

 Daryl Dixon sat on the steps of his porch, elbows resting on knees as he sharpened his knife. Katydids called around him in a chorus of chirping crickets, the sound only interrupted by the rhythmic scratch of metal on stone. The heavy air—a sure sign rain was coming, Daryl predicted—felt moist and honeyed against his bare arms. The evening was calm. Peaceful, even.

 Peaceful, that was, until Jesus appeared.

AU after 6x11. Slow burn.

Super cute .Super fluff.

Word Count 64,037 . Pairing Daryl/Jesus

Daryl's Addiction By  DestielHardcoreLove @bugandkitlove

Paul had no clue what was going on.  It seemed as if every time he turned a corner he would find Daryl on his knees with someone different from the community.  He didn't know what to make of it, what to even think but he did wonder how to get on it himself.

This was just really funny to me. Instead of talking I’m gonna make sure you catch me blowing the town.

Word Count 7,702. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

  Against the Dying of the Light  By   LottaCharlene

After escaping Terminus, Rick's family is at their strength's end. When the walls of yet another community loom over their heads, they must decide if they take the risk to seek refuge in this new community. They are met with a strange tradition that they are still willing to follow through for the sake of their family's well-being. Soon enough, they realize that they found a place that they could call home again. But the peace is treacherous and yet again they have to fight for their freedom and the lifes of the people they love.

Unexpectedly, Daryl is the one that has to fight for more than just his family.

So very good and sweet and sad and Gregory is a nut sac but you already knew that. Also I fucking love arranged marriage fics.

Word Count 108,454. Pairing Daryl/Jesus.

 Ripples on a Black Shore  By  Mugatu

For Daryl Dixon the world ended days before it did for almost everyone else, and it was heralded with a prerecorded phone message instead of a bang.

An AU fic where Daryl met Paul several years before the apocalypse.

Kind of sad but with a happy ending.

Word Count 200,540. Pairing Daryl/Jesus.

 Cross Your Fingers  By  starclipped

Daryl finds himself wrapping his fingers around Paul’s wrist before a bandage can be pulled from the tattered box. And Paul peers at him when their skin touches, fierce eye to fierce eye, with… with such veneration. Daryl wouldn’t know that feeling if he saw it, he thinks he’s seeing it now and he can’t believe it, but he can sure as hell feel it; rolling off his hippie ninja in waves, seeping into Daryl’s soul. A gasoline soaked rag, simply waiting to be set aflame. That's what he's become. He swallows the foreign emotions that suddenly make him feel too big for his body.

So very good and kind of sad worth the read for sure!

Word Count 204,186. Pairing Daryl/Paul

 Finders, Keepers  By  Joel7th

Jesus came to Alexandria to do trade and to see a certain grumpy hunter. However, he didn’t see said hunter; instead, just outside the walls of Alexandria he found a black cat – wait, was that really a cat?!

I found this so funny!

Word Count 10,148 . Pairing Daryl/Jesus

 All you need is twinkling stars and ancient cities  By TooRational  @toorational

Daryl Dixon of all people turns out to have the Ancient gene.

Go figure.

Or: The unlikely tale of a redneck from Earth and a Runner from the Pegasus Galaxy, and how they fell in love.

I fucking love Stargate Atlantis Crossovers and this was amazing !!!!

Word Count 16,454. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

 Help Wanted  By  Scababagorn

Daryl Dixon hasn't believed that he deserved to be who he really is. He hasn't ever felt safe enough. Is the reason that so many of the people he loves are dead. And then, suddenly there is a man named Jesus. And he likes to call Daryl "Dixie"

Cute,cute, cute I love it!!

Word Count 22,618. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

 if the world should break  By  transstevebucky @gaydaryl

It's not like Daryl hates the guy. It's exactly the opposite.

Very cute. Be mindful of the tags daryl gets outed without his permission.

Word Count 36,343. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

 Misunderstandings in a Car Crash By  Neeka

Misunderstanding. [mis-uhn-der-stan-ding]

Noun 1. Failure to understand correctly; mistake as to meaning or intent

Warning: Does not mix well with love and may lead to heartbreak

Dude like super sad face for like half of this but it gets less sad .

Word Count 18,614 Pairing Daryl/Jesus.

 Breaking the Cycle  By  AidaRonan @bisexualstarbucky

Daryl's life seems to follow a cycle of pain and violence. So when he starts falling for his new roommate, he's more than wary about what it might mean.

But sometimes breaking a cycle means making a choice.

So very cute a little sad also be mindful of the tags.

Word Count 7,416 . Pairing Daryl/Jesus

 Fables of the Reconstruction By  Mugatu

It’s more than two years after the end of the world and six months after the war with the Saviors when Daryl Dixon returns to Alexandria.

This is just so good holy crap and glenn lives which makes it even better!!

Word Count 91,918.  Pairing Daryl/Jesus

 You're Like Me (a goddamn idiot)  By  yellowhairedrobot

Jesus tilted his head to the side. “If I tried to kiss you right now, would you kick my ass?”

“Yes,” Daryl answered, way too quickly.

This is funny and gives me extreme second hand embarrassment.

Word Count 6,395. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

 the streets are full of strangers  By  smilebackwards @smilebackwards

When Deanna asks Daryl to leave Alexandria, he meets Paul on the road a little earlier.

I would like to say cute-meet . lol its very good and very cute.

Word Count 11,563 . Pairing Daryl/Jesus

There is also a podfic for this.

     [Podfic] the streets are full of strangers  By  Boompowkablam   @boompowkablam

Length 1hr 7 mins

  a heart that's on loan  By  smilebackwards @smilebackwards

Aaron and Daryl discover Hilltop on one of their scouting trips and find that the community has an interesting throwback custom for establishing alliances: marriage.

I LOVE ARRANGED MARRIAGE AND THIS IS THE BEST ONE!

Word Count 11,686.  Pairing Daryl/Jesus

 Just Another Day  By  PezzieCoyote                   

What if Daryl was the one in charge? How would things be different? And what secret is he hiding?

Supernatural elements you know besides the zombies .

Word Count 9,950. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

  Escape  By   AbigailHT, TooRational  @toorational @abigailht

  By the time the song starts drilling into his head worse than the headache, he's come to the conclusion that he can't do much.  There's no way to get out unless someone unlocks the door, and even if he could, he has no idea where he'd go once he's out anyway. Nor has he any idea who has him. Or why. Or where. Or where home is. Or—Basically, he doesn't know anything, and even the things he does know are mostly instinct and completely unverifiable anyway.He's contemplating sitting back down again — he'll have to do it at some point, if only to preserve his strength, but the cold, and the dirt, and he's naked, his skin crawls at the mere thought — when the song shuts off abruptly.

Or: The Saviors' latest prisoner isn't quite what he seems.

Its just like everything you ever wanted out of Jesus in the show. So good a tiny bit sad.

Word Count 6,894. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

There is a podfic for this.

  Escape  By  Boompowkablam @boompowkablam

Length  45 minutes.

[starbuck]

Terror Notes: “Go For Broke”

well… I guess I’m really doing this! Some proper, bullet-pointed notes for each episode of The Terror, starting with ep 1: Go For Broke!

I wrote these out last night (and edited them this morning to make them readable - you’re welcome!) so I hope that y’all enjoy my thoughts and assorted nonsense! I tried to save my comments for points I actually wanted to make because I feel like they bring something to the table but I still ended up writing A Lot lol

I love that Crozier couldn’t even be bothered to be present in welcoming Sir John and Fitzjames onto Terror, making Little and Hodgson do it by themselves. One could argue that he had important captain-y things to be doing at that time or something but I’m not 100% sure that wasn’t the case. 

idk if it’s just the angle, but I paused the episode just as the shot of the officer’s mess is coming in from above and Hodgson’s hands make me so uncomfortable. They look so bone-y and weird. (Just what you came here for, I know. Hand commentary.)

Cannot tell you how uncomfortable it is, after many rewatches, to listen to Fitzjames recounting in a casual, lighthearted manner 1) shooting people 2) people catching fire (and burning to death), and 3) their burning flesh smelling “like roast duck” (so, like something edible) and it’s even more uncomfortable to have the closeup be on Hodgson’s face as he laughs at the ‘roast duck’ comparison.

On a lighter note: I love that Fitzjames felt the need to remind everyone what size cherries are by illustrating it with his fingers. In case they forgot, I guess? As someone who occasionally speaks unnecessarily with my hands, big mood tbh.

I LOVE it when Fitzjames gives Little that affirmative tap on the arm after he compares Fitzjames’s injury to Lord Nelson’s. My friend Eli and I refer to it as The Fitzjames Arm Tap. I would like a Fitzjames Arm Tap, pretty please.

God, Sir John loudly setting his hands on the table to try to dispel the tension from the ‘birdshit island’ debacle as he attempts to change the subject is so funny. I’m gonna stop just pointing out things I find funny soon, I swear, but I just cannot handle this scene.

Between Hodgson looking horrifically embarrassed by Crozier’s outburst at Fitzjames and Little looking nervous when Crozier shoots him a look as Sir John says that there’s no reason to be concerned about the ice, it really does seem that they were having to ‘manage’ him even back in ep 1 when his alcoholism wasn’t completely out of hand.

Personal sidenote about this: My Pop-pop is often rude to workers in stores and restaurants (he doesn’t drink thank goodness but he has Alzheimer’s coming on which has worsened his temper) so I very much understand the feeling of being on-edge that an outburst is going to occur and trying to deal with the fallout when it does. Just going by my own experience, I can imagine Little apologizing to Fitzjames for Crozier’s rudeness as soon as they were out of Crozier’s earshot (not that anything Little could say would heal the deep psychological wound that Crozier created but hey, it’s something).

The way that Sir John brushes aside Dr. MacDonald’s and Crozier’s concerns about moving Young when he’s in such bad shape never fails to upset me but also ~foreshadowing for hauling the ill on boats oooohhh~

I said I was done pointing out random things that amuse me but the speed and agility with which Des Voeux pops out of the hatch and onto the deck after Orren falls into the water is just so funny. I could watch that two second clip on repeat all day. Might gif it so I actually can.

Is this a good time to point out that there’s also a scene in Moby-Dick where someone falls from high up on a mast and drowns? It’s in a chapter all about bad omens experienced by the crew of the Pequod and The Terror definitely has some similar vibes going on with the sun dogs displayed in the establishing shot of Erebus in that scene and David Young, a “warning of things to come,” on his way over.

The second(?) time I watched the part where Young tells Stanley that he didn’t think anything of getting headaches since he’s always gotten them, I had this thought pass through my head that was like “oh god, I had chronic migraines for years so I’d never have known if I had lead poisoning either!” but then I realized that this probably was not a relevant concern I should have.

Not sure I have any deep commentary on this but as Gore informs Sir John and Fitzjames about the blocked propeller, he’s standing in the same spot, in the same room as Goodsir will stand next episode to tell them about his death.

Also regarding this scene, I love how Gore waits for Fitzjames to give him the go-ahead to leave before actually going. I know that Fitzjames is his superior officer too but, since Sir John already dismissed him, it seems like waiting for Fitzjames’s approval isn’t really necessary, yet a nice thing to do. Perhaps this is a legitimate formality, but something similar happens later in this episode in the command meeting when Crozier asks Gore how many sun dogs he’s seen; he looks to Fitzjames and waits for his nod before answering Crozier. He doesn’t look to Sir John, he looks to Fitzjames. I know that we know essentially nothing about Gore but like.. underrated ship???? Just saying…

Ten nights ago, I was unable to get to sleep for at least an hour because I started thinking about David Young’s saying “I want to go to my grave as I am” and, of course, that ultimately doesn’t happen for him but also, this, like all things about him, is a “warning of things to come.” I’m pretty sure that no one else was properly buried until, arguably, Fitzjames and ironically, that was explicitly not what he wanted done with his body (and, since his grave was later looted by Hickey, similar to the way that Young’s autopsy ultimately achieved nothing, it didn’t really matter anyway).

I know that this happened exactly ten days ago because I forced myself to wake up and write it down in my notes app, lest I forget, which only prolonged my sleeplessness. I suffer for my analysis. 

Ah yesssss Tozer’s lesbian haircut. We love it! Why does my hair not look like that when I take a hat off? I’d like to file a complaint.

Was just thinking the other day about how Hartnell being the one to notice that there was something up with the ice in ep 1 is followed up on with Blanky complimenting Hartnell’s ability to read the ice to Crozier in ep 7. I wonder if Blanky ever gave him like. ice-reading lessons after becoming aware of his interest and natural talent at it in ep 1? That makes me happy to think about.

The two people who we’re shown awoken by Young’s screaming are Sgt. Bryant and Morfin and like. Do I even have to explain why that’s an Oof?

The way that Goodsir hesitates before knocking on Stanley’s door and Stanley irritatedly closing his book before answering the knock in an exasperated voice would be comedic in any other context. If I’m being honest, it still makes me laugh. As does Stanley’s “As if that weren’t plain.”

I’ve pointed this out before but mmmmm... that shot of Stanley in profile with the open candle flame in the background… the foreshadowing in this ep is thicker than the smoke at… Oh alright, I’ll stop. 

God, the autopsy/dive scene…. Collins being lowered down and entering the water paralleled with Goodsir’s initial cutting into Young’s corpse, the breaking up of the ice paralleled with the cutting of the bone-saw. But most significant to me is the parallel of what is seen/not seen and the long-term effect that this has. Collins sees Orren’s corpse (and then presumably never tells anyone about it), reinforcing his guilt over Orren’s death, the beginning of his mental health decline. Goodsir doesn’t see the cause of Young’s death in his autopsy and this not knowing about the lead poisoning until it’s too late to do anything about it is the cause of many of Goodsir’s later problems as well. And, to finish it all off, both the autopsy and Collins’ dive were ultimately for nothing (considering a spinning propeller is useless when your ships are frozen in). 

Crozier and Blanky’s simultaneous face journeys as Sir John rambles on about how there’s nothing to worry about and they’ll find the passage any day now are truly legendary.

I wrote some pretty extensive tags on this already but man… Crozier’s comment about how not all of Sir John’s men returned from one of his previous arctic expeditions is just so nasty and awful. Like, yes, Sir John is wrong to undersell the danger they’re in and Crozier is advocating for the correct position here, but that was completely uncalled for and horrible to say, particularly in a command meeting, in front of so many people. And Sir John looks legitimately upset by it too. He gets over it quickly, at least on the outside, but I still feel really bad for him (and I NEVER feel bad for Sir John so this is weird for me).

“But of course we will not be abandoning Erebus, or Terror…” Let’s check back in six episodes and see how that’s going! 

Crozier slamming his fist on the table to prove he’s not being melodramatic reminds me of this one post (that I sadly can’t find rn) about Jesus Christ Superstar that’s like “‘CUT OUT THE DRAMATICS’ Judas hollered dramatically.” It’s such an Overall Mood.

I don’t have a developed commentary on this at the moment but it’s an interesting reverse-parallel that Sir John had no concern for Young’s well-being when he was alive, ignoring Crozier’s concerns about moving him from ship-to-ship when he was in such poor health, yet now that he’s dead, Sir John is the one to recommend that Young be buried which Crozier is surprised by, and seems to feel is unnecessary.

There’s been so much amazing commentary already made about Young’s burial scene so I’ll skip it except to say that Hickey’s irritated sigh when he hears footsteps coming towards the grave is SO funny. That’s exactly how I feel when I know that someone is about to tell me something that will annoy me.

Goodsir was really getting into the emotion of Sir John’s “eulogy”/motivational speech before he remembered the promise he made about Young’s ring. Also, what triggered his memory was Sir John saying “We shall earn our loved one’s cheers and embraces,” so no doubt a reminder of the traumatic “Your loved ones will be there in Heaven to welcome you! :)” “I never knew my mother or father” exchange (or maybe just a reminder of the fact that he was supposed to get Young’s ring to his sister but just let me scrape a little humor out of this. God knows I need it).

The shot of Bryant praying in his hammock the night before they get completely frozen-in is honestly deeply upsetting to me. Especially considering he’s a marine so he Did Not Ask To Be Here, yet there he’ll die.

According to Melville, ship’s compasses occasionally spun round-and-round when a ship was caught in a severe storm and this was an incredibly upsetting thing to behold because of how disorienting it was. So, considering that, Fitzjames keeps his composure pretty well but he clearly has some reservations about how things are going and Sir John has no comforting-sounding remark about ‘Magnetic North’ to offer him now.

The bit where Sir John “sees” Crozier, on Terror, turn away from him with a half-smirk on his face is interesting because there’s no way he could have possibly seen Crozier’s expression at that distance and I’m doubtful that he’d even have been able to make out the identity of anyone he might have been able to see on Terror’s deck. So really, it speaks mostly to Sir John’s mental state; his seeing their getting frozen in as a loss against Crozier and imagining that Crozier would see it as a victory for himself.

Ugh the final shot is making me think about @catilinas’s post comparing a shot of the two ships stuck in to the shot of the ink drops from ep 3 and I am LOSING IT but I was losing it anyway because it’s 2AM now and my entire body feels like gelatin. 

THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT! 

SEE YOU NEXT TIME!

[thewhumperinwhite]

Café: Forest

Previous: Teaser 1, Teaser 2, Hospital/Squad Car, Empty Bar, Used Car Lot 1, Used Car Lot 2, Gas Station, Roadside 1, Roadside 2.

Kent and Pax have incompatible methods for coping with trauma. Sol tries to make due with the trio’s one communal brain cell.

TW for: suicidal ideation which is not handled particularly well by companions, Kent gets triggered and doesn’t explain that to anyone, referenced past domestic abuse, gore, eye horror, terrible communication skills, Sol is trying his fucking best but nobody does a great job here, Vehicular Horror (as in many zombies get run over by cars idk how to warn for that exactly)

@whumpitywhumpwhump

Continues directly from Roadside 2.

Sol stares at Pax, revulsion rising in the back of his throat, but he’s honestly startled when Kent is suddenly on his feet and shoving Pax in the chest.

Pax stumbles back from Kent, who is suddenly his full six feet, eyes blazing.

“You goddamn bastard!” Kent screams. “How the hell could you— I might still have been able to— “

Pax slaps him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Pax says, their voice low and dangerous. “What, you think that was super easy for me, you spoiled little shithead? You think I liked that?” Pax is shorter than Kent, almost certainly, but their slap bowled Kent halfway over, and he hasn’t straightened, his hair hiding his face. “We all. Wanted. To help,” Pax snarls. “But we’re not all trying to feed ourselves to zombies, you dumb asshole, you don’t get to decide that for the rest of us. I’ve got my own reasons for wanting you to get where you’re going but I will not die for you, you got that? You want to be a martyr, go do it someplace else.” He rounds on Sol. “And what the hell is your problem?”

Sol, who has been tugging on Paxon’s sleeve, points.

“Oh, fuck me,” says Paxon.

It’s hard to really make them out in just the truck’s headlights, but there are at least three figures standing at the edge of the trees on the other side of the road. Backing up to stand behind Paxon— he’s pretty sure he��s past the point of being ashamed of himself— Sol spots a fourth. And— there’s a fifth, too.

“Back in the car?” Sol prompts, a tad desperately.

“Back in the car,” Pax agrees, taking a step toward the truck.

Sol reaches down to pick up his bat from the asphalt, and as soon as he closes his hand around it one of the figures breaks from the others and lurches at a jerking, unsteady run toward the circle of headlights.

“Shit!” Sol squawks, stumbling backwards, but Paxon, their sword swishing smoothly out of its sheath, surges forward to meet the man and slices through his neck in one clean swipe.

“There a reason you two idiots ain’t running yet?” they growl over their shoulder, and Sol shakes his head clear and takes off toward the truck, grabbing hold of Kent’s collar on the way past and dragging him along.

Kent stumbles after him, his head still bowed, and finally croaks, “Wait, we— we can’t just leave them to— “

“I think they got this,” Sol snaps, and glances over his shoulder to see Pax spin to neatly decapitate a second running, bloody-eyed figure. “‘Sides,” he goes on, a bit snidely, yanking the driver’s side door open, “how exactly were you gonna help without a weapon, genius?”

Kent climbs into the back seat, not meeting Sol’s eyes. He’s breathing heavy, and his hands are in tight, shaking fists in his lap. 

It occurs to Sol that he has now seen Kent slapped twice in the very short time he’s known him. There’s no time to think about that now, but it— maybe bears examination later.

“You know how to drive, right?” Kent mutters, at the floor of the truck.

“‘Course I do,” Sol snaps, throwing the car in reverse and taking a deep breath. “Mostly!”

He rolls his window down. “Coming on your left, Pax!”

Paxon pauses with their sword in the stomach of a very large man whose eyes have spilled out in bloody streams down his cheeks— Sol gags a little before he makes himself focus on driving— to glare at the truck over their shoulder, and then they readjust their grip and slice the man clear in half, before swinging their sword straight down through one of his ruined eyes. Sol sees Kent wince and throw a hand over his mouth in the rearview mirror.

“Take your time,” Paxon calls, sword flashing. There’s beginning to be kind of a large pile of bodies around them. “I’m enjoying myself out here.”

“Wow,” Sol says, focusing on reversing the car in such a way that he will not run Paxon over. He does his best to ignore the sickening lurch of the car as it rolls over one body, then two. “You really pissed them off.”

Kent glares at the floor of the truck. Yeah, they’re going to have to have a long conversation about this later, assuming they can actually get out of this.

When the truck rolls to a stop beside them, Paxon yanks the passenger side door open and climbs in, turning as they do so to shove their sword straight into a lunging man’s open mouth and up into his brain.

“Uh—” Sol swallows. “You good?”

“If you are,” they snap, settling into their seat and slamming the door closed.

“We, uh, we are, we’re—” He clears his throat awkwardly. Kent is still glaring at the floor, and Paxon is staring out the window, which a woman with blood running down her chin is now throwing herself against. “We’re great. Yeah.”

Sol puts the car clumsily into drive and slams his foot down on the gas, apparently a bit too hard.

A small dark figure is illuminated by the headlights for a second before they disappear under the truck’s tires. Sol forces himself to keep his eyes on the road and orders himself not to think about it.

He almost swerves to avoid the next one, but Paxon reaches over and puts their hand on the wheel.

“Just hit ‘em,” they say in a low, flat voice. “It doesn’t make a damn difference either way.”

Kent makes a horrified sound from the backseat, and winces badly when the car thumps over the woman’s body.

“Uh,” Sol squawks.

“Look at ‘em,” Pax says. “They’re running right at the damn tires. They don’t give a fuck what happens to them, so why should we, huh?” They look straight forward through the windshield, and don’t look at Kent, who Sol can see jolt in the backsea; Kent tangles a hand in his own hair and pulls it, hard; Sol winces.

The next one Sol hits leaps right at the front of the car and slides up onto the hood, hitting the windshield with a sick crack. Kent squeezes his eyes shut, and Pax glares straight ahead, though their hands tighten into fists on their bloody pant legs.

“Um,” Sol says. “Are we gonna talk about this, or...?”

“No,” Kent says flatly.

“Ain’t a damn thing to talk about,” Pax snaps.

Sol rolls his eyes. “Oh, yeah, right, fine. My bad.”

The last one is another woman, and the headlights catch in her blonde hair for a second, and Sol can’t help but swerve to avoid her. He very carefully does not look at Paxon, who scowls at him.

Finally he rolls his eyes and shoots Paxon a glare, and then he glances up at the rear view mirror to include Kent in it, too. “I’m not picking sides here, okay? I think y’all are both fuckin’ nuts.”

Pax pouts. Kent does too, a little bit.

“First of all,” Sol says, “fucking cool it with the martyr complex a little, okay, Kent? Jesus.” Kent flinches, and opens his mouth to protest, but Sol holds up one hand for silence, keeping the other carefully on the wheel. “And you,” he says, rounding on Paxon. “It’s great that you swept to our rescue, and everything, but fucking forgive us for being a little slower to adjust to the whole ‘zombie apocalypse so murder is okay now’ thing, dude. We’re not all fucking naturals like you apparently are.”

“I saved your life,” Paxon says shortly.

“Yeah, I guess,” Sol says uncomfortably. “And, like. Thanks? But do you for real not get how watching you cut a bunch of people’s heads off does not make us more likely to trust you, man?”

“Oh, Christ, not you too,” Paxon snaps, swinging their sword off their back and slamming it down at their feet. “Do neither of you kids get it yet? The world has changed. Y’all’s idealism or whatever is cute, but it’s also gonna get you both killed.” They reach out and shove at Sol’s shoulder, although not very hard. They don’t even look angry anymore, not really, just— tired. “You’re not supposed to trust me, dumbass. You listen, okay, both of you. I do not require that you trust me. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t. And I’m not gonna trust you. And then none of us are gonna be disappointed. Okay?”

Sol blinks, feeling kind of confused and— weirdly hurt. “Uh— yeah, fine. Yeah.”

“Don’t worry,” Kent says, sharply. “We won’t.”

Pax turns back to glare at him. “Well good,” they say with their teeth bared. “You shouldn’t.”

Then they both turn and glare out opposite windows.

The tension is so thick that for a second Sol is almost glad when the engine emits a sharp pop and a puff of smoke and the truck begins to roll to a stop.

“Aw, shit,” Sol says, trying to gun the engine. “Aw, shit, no, not now—”

Paxon presses their hands over their eyes and makes a noise that sounds like it would be a scream if their teeth weren’t clenched. Kent leans forward between the passenger and driver’s seats to watch the plume of smoke drift upwards from the engine.

“Either of you know how to fix that?” he says flatly.

“I know how to hotwire cars, not fix them, man,” Sol says, flopping back in his seat and closing his eyes.

Kent hesitates. “...Paxon?”

Paxon removes one hand from their face long enough to give Kent the finger. “Fuck you, blondie, I can’t do everything around here.”

Kent frowns at the dashboard as if he can somehow guilt the engine beneath into running again. “Oh,” he says. There isn’t really much else to say.

There’s a long and very pregnant pause. Paxon massages their temples. Sol counts to ten, twice, and tries without much success to regulate his heart rate. Kent fidgets and turns in his seat to look out the back window.

“Um,” he starts, unconsciously tapping the back of Paxon’s chair like an impatient five-year-old. “I don’t think you quite— got all of them,” he says hesitantly.

Paxon takes in a long breath and then lets it out, and then they drop their hands and toss their long red ponytail. “Yeah, yeah,” they say, yanking the door handle with a little more force than necessary. “It was getting a little cramped in here, anyway.”

“H-hey— hold on!” Sol yelps, reaching for their sleeve. “Are you out of your fucking mind? We can’t go out there!”

They’re already on their feet outside the truck and repositioning their sword on their back. “Yeah, well, it would also be pretty dumb of us to stay in here and get surrounded. Rein in your underage martyr and let’s jet, babe.” They shoot Sol a shiny and very fake grin and cross in front of the truck toward the woods, boot heels clicking against the pavement. They swing their sword out of its sheath as they go and the metal glints alarmingly in the light from the headlights.

Sol frowns after them, feeling... more intimidated than he wants to.

“I hate to say it,” he mumbles at the back of Kent’s head— the blonde is kneeling on the back seat and staring out the back window— “but I think they’re probably kind of right, man. You coming?”

Kent is silent for a moment, watching the vague forms milling about in the darkness behind the truck.

“Hey,” Sol says, reaching out for his shoulder. “...Kent?”

Kent winces when Sol’s fingertips brush his coat collar, and then he looks down at his hands and mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “sorry”.

“Huh?” Sol retracts his hand hastily. That was a bad idea. In fact, it didn’t happen. He 100% did not notice Kent shaking and reach out to comfort him like somebody’s goddamn mother.

“I said, ‘you’re right,’” Kent says, turning to give him a shaky smile.

Sol blinks at him, debates calling him a liar, reaches for the car door instead. “Yeah, sure, whatever, man. Let’s just— let’s go.”

The sky is starting to spit rain, and Paxon is waiting for them with their hand on their hip and and expression of almost violent impatience on their face. They raise an eyebrow at Sol and pointedly do not look at Kent. “You took your sweet time,” they say tightly.

Kent, hugging himself a little against the cold dankness of the air, raises a hand to catch a few raindrops and frowns up at the sky. “It’s raining.”

Paxon frowns at him, and then rolls their eyes, turns on their heel and stomps off into the trees. “Yes, sunshine, it is. Thank you for pointing that out.” They sneer at him over their shoulder. “At least you’ve got your looks, kid.”

Kent wrinkles his nose at them, following. “Yeah, you’ve mentioned that,” he says, a few slivers of ice in his voice. “I’m flattered, I guess, but you’re actually not my type, Paxon.”

“Now there’s a surprise,” Paxon says, rolling their eyes.

“Oh my god, you guys,” Sol runs a hand through his hair and tries to focus on not tripping over tree roots. The woods are getting thicker, and Pax is walking very quickly. “Will you please shut the fuck up.”

Kent grumbles, but shuts his mouth. Pax picks up their pace slightly, the ass.

The drizzle is turning into something more like a downpour, now, and still companionable silence is apparently too much to ask.

“What I meant,” Kent snaps after five blissful minutes of nobody snapping at anybody else, “was that it is raining, and we have no shelter, or changes of clothing, or food, or— or anything.”

“Some of us have weapons,” Paxon says sweetly. “That’s not nothing.”

Kent huffs. “I’m sure that’ll be a great comfort when we’re— what, huddled in trees, freezing to death?”

Sol wrinkles his nose. His own coat, while thick enough to stop the old man’s teeth, is not waterproof and is starting to get kind of heavy with rainwater. By morning it’ll probably smell like a wet sheep, too. Kent might be okay in his oversized black coat, but Paxon’s poncho and leather jacket don’t look warm at all, and they’re certainly not waterproof.

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s, uh, a fair point. Do you have, like, a plan, Pax?”

Pax turns on their heel, half-skipping along backwards, dancing over the rough ground in a way that doesn’t really seem fair. “Plans are for squares, kid. Everyone knows that.”

Kent glares at them, discomfort written clear across his face. Sol looks from Kent’s shaky irritation to the tight, tense set of Paxon’s shoulders and their white-knuckled grip on their sword.

“We’re all gonna die,” he says flatly.

[theplaguebeast]

A Long Ramble On My Experience Reading Nothing But Fanfic For Over A Year

So, my entire Adult Journey Through Fandom (as opposed to my Teen Journey Through Fandom, which started around 13 and petered off when I was 19) began because summer 2019, after I moved back in with my grandparents and left the state I’d spent the last ten years in behind (along with almost all my possessions excepting my cats, my wolf pelt, some clothes, and some misc stuff including the entire Lord of The Rings series in paperback) I went to Archive of Our Own (AO3) on my shitty phone that didn’t actually function as a phone because that costs money, and went to the Fallout 4 section (because I have played that game to DEATH AND BACK, modded it to death and back too) and started reading. Because it was literally the first fandom I could think of.

And then, one day, as I was reading Piper/f!SS I thought ‘What’s another Media I Have Consumed’ and for whatever reason, Legend of Korra came to mind which is wild because I watched it when it came out and then NEVER touched it again. I did wind up rewatching it after reading probably around 100 Korrasami fics, but I watched it BECAUSE of the fics.

Then, and I think I hopped onto this because a bunch of writers who wrote Korrasami also wrote them, I fell into Clexa. And I’d watched.... like five seasons of The 100? IDK, whatever it was that season-dumped on Netflix in like 2017. And WHOO BOI did I stick around there for a LONG TIME. We’re talking 90 pages of my AO3 history (20 fics per page yo) of JUST CLEXA.

Thru a similar mechanism I started reading Supercorp, and here is where I come back into my ‘I don’t even GO HERE’ tendency, because you see I still have not seen a single episode of Supergirl but you bet your ass I have read literally about a hundred fics for it.

Then, again, via authors-who-I-liked-writing-for-other-fandoms-than-how-I-found-them I read a hefty pile of SwanQueen (which, RIP y’all OUAT fucked y’all huh?) and that’s a show that I had really honestly TRIED to watch but guys... The only thing going for it really is that it’s the better Live Action Beauty And The Beast and that’s sad on a number of levels.

Then Pitch Perfect caught me up and I HAVE seen the first movie (and jesus if that het romance wasn’t shoehorned in) but also ONLY the first movie but that didn’t stop my consumption of those fics.

At some point I strafed thru the Glee fandom and rediscovered Faberry which I don’t recall ever actively shipping Back In The Day but you BET YOUR ASS I thought they were both SUPER GAY when the first couple seasons were airing, which is also the last time I watch it at ALL.

And from there, AGAIN this has ALL happened because I kept checking out other stuff written by authors I like, I started reading Sansa-shipping Game of Thrones fics. Now here is a Very Important Thing to Know: I started with Sansa/Margaery, and you might have seen earlier my discovery that I fell into reading other Sansa ships via Sansa/Ellaria/Oberyn.

Before that point, even as a teenager, I shipped ZERO heterosexual couples. NONE. NADA.

Also, I had not watched Game of Thrones past season 4. (Some of you may be aware I watched and liveblogged watching the whole series recently. Do not do this thing.) I still spent seven months reading almost exclusively GoT fanfic. I’ve bought the books. I’m in MULTIPLE discord servers for GoT fan shiz. 

And I also fell into checking Other Works By This Author I Like, except now, because I will read a fic featuring Sansa with literally anyone because it’s interesting to me, I started also reading het ships.

And so I wound up reading A Bunch of Zutara, and I had seen Airbender back when it aired and also... at some other point. But I did not rewatch it when it came out on netflix because holy shit Korra retroactively makes me so mad about both series now that I really think about Katara okay guys? Because I’m not okay. I’m mad. Whatever.

Somehow I wound up BACK in the Once Upon A Time fandom, by the way, but this time with Rumbelle (remember when I mentioned Beauty and the Beast earlier? HI) and man it’s interesting to see two sides of a fandom like that lemme tell ya.

And now, to the present, where I’m reading Bethyl fics for The Walking Dead, which I saw like three seasons of and mostly remember as ‘that show with the zombies where I got mad that no one could ever actually catch a fucking break for more than five minutes’ which is, for the record, WHY I stopped watching. And the extra funny thing is that I didn’t really author-hop for that one I just went ‘hey i know vague things about this IP let’s read stuff’ and Bethyl was just... the first ship I clicked on? And now I’m fucking Team Delusional and I DON’T EVEN GO HERE.

I need to REALLY DEEPLY HIGHLIGHT the fact that out of EVERY fandom I have listed, BEFORE I got into them I only finished/kept up with TWO of the shows and the one video game, ONE fandom has made me make myself watch the series it’s based on (and I’ll read the books as soon as they get here I’m not paying for fast shipping y’all), and EVERY OTHER ONE I know of from watching like three seasons on average. 

(This is not including the fandoms where I checked out like five fics, went ‘I’m bored now’ and left. There’s like five of those I think???)

So what I’m saying is that I get a basic understanding of a piece of media and then throw it away and go check out the fan shit because it’s more entertaining to see what everyone’s doing with the toys the media provides. Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice And Fire is a fucking anomaly on every single front, literally every other fandom I have, there is The Ship That Happens (well, OUAT gets two, but they’re not mutually exclusive so WHATEVER) and then pretty much every other ship ranges from ‘whatever’ to ‘fuck off’.

But fucking Sansa Stark, man. 

Anyways I’ve got 350+ pages (that’s over 7,000 fics yo) of AO3 history since June 19 2019 because quarantine changed zero percent of my lifestyle. If I can do math (debatable) that’s 15 fics a day every day, on average for nine-ish fandoms but the vast majority is GoT/ASoIAF.

Tune in fking WHENEVER when I finish the project my brain has decided will happen (THANKS HYPERFIXATIONS) where I’ve got the full data for all of this bullshit so I know how many words of whatever fucking ship I’ve read.

[blehbleehhhh]

Angel ft. Eremika <3

Hello 🐒 I present to you a fluff piece. Seriously it makes me cringe! That’s why most of my stuff is a mix! Idk how this came from the request for something where Carla is alive and suggests to Eren to ask Mikasa to marry him because that thought doesn't occur (something I also agree to be likely!). This idea comes from a fanfic I read a long time ago on Wattpad but I cannot for the life of me remember who wrote it...But the idea is that it’s him who is in the band with a few other people in the group, including Armin, but Mikasa isn’t involved with that, though she is in mine! I’ve been to a few concerts in my short-ish life (I’ll be 24 in November) and Bruce Springsteen is absolutely adorable with his fans haha. I hate that everyone’s characters are so different but I also worked really hard on this (about 5 months hahahaha no lie) I almost didn’t even post this..lol. Hope you enjoy the fluff.

Eren Jaeger is standing on an expansive stage with his rock band, finishing up their most recent cover of The Eagles' Hotel California. They were brought in to play at a summer festival being held locally with a couple of other bands and were the last to play, which only means that quite a few in the audience is drunk off their ass and more likely to interact with the band members. He couldn't help but laugh into the microphone when he saw his mom in the front row dancing along to the music she raised her boys on with her first and last Sam Adams in hand. "The insanely supportive Carla Jaeger, everyone!" Her son smiled as he finished the song's last note and Armin hit the drums at the perfect time, just like they've practiced for years now. "Seriously, she may not be able to make it to some shows, but that makes the ones she can make even more special, right?!" The crowd cheered in response and his girlfriend would later swear that she heard him giggle a little bit, because she knows how much he loves interacting with their fans. Mikasa smiled as she watched him run his fingers through his shaggy brown hair, a sight that she truly loves to watch and has for as long as his hair has been long enough to do so. He chuckled a simultaneous little sigh into the microphone as he gave the strings to his electric guitar a strum and turned to the side so he could look at his best friend sitting at his drum set with Annie on his lap. "You know, when Armin and I started this, we were about, what, like, six?"

“Yeah, something like that.”

Carla offering a supportive 'woohoo' from the front row.

"And uh, we certainly didn't think back then that we would be successful -" Eren paused with a smile having been interrupted by the cheering crowd. "At least not until we met Mikasa, but that wasn't until we turned nine. Again, not to be confused with Annie here on Armin's lap," He turned himself to the side and pointed at the blonde couple, the girl smiling as she waved a shy hand at the audience. "Or our manager and Jean's girlfriend, Hitch." He turned to the side when his shoulder was tapped, revealing the beauty on the other side, waving her hand briefly before hopping back on the phone with their next gig. And that's when Eren turned to face a raven haired beauty standing before the drum set with a grin as she tapped her fingers on the body of her bass guitar, stomach doing all kinds of flips because she has no idea where this is going. "See this," Everyone started chanting their names and cat called the young couple when he proceeded to push his guitar around his back to prevent an obnoxious sound when she was pulled closer by the waist. "This is my girl, right here." They both smiled and shared a sweet, tender kiss as the crowd grew louder to show their overwhelming support, even other band and crew members were clapping at this point.

Jesus, get a room already..." Armin teased over the cheering and laughed into the microphone when Eren gave him the finger, more than happy to continue kissing his girlfriend while he carefully cradled her face in his hands. On his own terms, he finally pulled away and smiled as they briefly gazed lovingly into each other's eyes before he guided her up to the front of the stage with a light arm around the waist.

"Have I mentioned how sexy you look with that bralet and skinny jean combination?" Eren whispered in her ear and smiled when she started blushing, letting out a small giggle as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Kick ass, baby girl." He smirked at her as he glanced back at Armin, who had already kicked Annie from his lap to her keyboard set, giving him a nod to hit the drums so they can recapture the audiences' attention, making them return to louder cheering and hollering at the band as usual. It started with one leg, then half of him, and then Jean came out on stage in the middle of laughing, intending to replace Mikasa on the bass as the crowd hollered and cheered, especially when his girlfriend poked her head out past the curtain to give him just one more good luck kiss. He was more than happy to take over on bass and let the raven sing her heart out, even though he admittedly prefers playing electric. In fact, Jean's skills are part of why he was invited to join the band, the other being that him and Eren have managed to come an understanding over the years, and even developed a great friendship in the process. "Our good friend, Jean Kirschtein, will be filling in for Miki -" He paused with a chuckle and a smiled as the crowd roared for his friend. "Our good friend, Jean Kirschtein, will be filling in for Miki while she -"

"Serenades you." Came her voice into one of the handheld microphones when she interrupted him with a giggle, making the audience laugh along in response with screams chanting her name. She had caught it in her hands from Jean after quickly removing the one hooked on her ear, glancing aside at Eren's genuinely happy gaze. Oh, god, he's so handsome. "I'm not sure what to say," She grinned as everyone started to cheer once more, something she's not sure she will ever get used to. "But this is a song that's always reminded me of my Eren.." Mikasa grinned and pointed at him with her freehand, his face already smirking in amusement. "And I'm so excited to share it with you. Hit it guys!" He playfully narrowed his eyes with a wide laughed as the band began to play because this song most certainly was not planned to the best of his knowledge, though this is a welcome surprise. But Eren knows the song quite well because Carla has always said it came out the year she met her husband, so it reminds her of him every time she hears it, and he played along when electric kicked in. Mikasa watched his piercing, hypnotic eyes as she gracefully moved her body to the music and reached up to push hair away from her eyes, tousling it aside from the roots with small head bangs because this is just so much fun. "I call you when I need you, my hearts on fire, you come to me, come to me wild and wired. Oh, you come to me, give me everything I need! Give me a lifetime of promises and a world of dreams, speak the language of love like you know what it means. Mmm, and it can't be wrong! Take my heart and make it strong, babe!" Mikasa skipped down to the opposite side of the stage with a huge smile stretched across her face as she leaned down to touch the hands reaching for hers. "You're simply the best! Better than all the rest! Better than anyone, anyone I ever met. I'm stuck on your heart! I hang on every word you say! Tear us apart, baby, I would rather be dead." She giggled into the microphone and turned to her team, feeling the rhythm of the music moving her body every which way as her head rocked slightly. Eren couldn't help but smile watching her let go on stage like this. She most definitely is not the little girl he used to see gazing back at him with doe-like eyes, though her movements are still very much the same as they've always been, fluid and effortless; like the way her mother used to dance with her before she passed away all those years ago. He glanced down at Carla, who was proudly dancing in the audience like how a mother would dance after a beer, and it reminded him of a conversation he had with her just a few days ago before they were to play a show in Boston regarding his relationship with Mikasa, and what the next logical step could be for them after growing up side by side and being together for years.

                                     •••

"You and Mikasa have been together for quite a while now, Eren, don't you think?" Carla had said one morning, leaning against the doorway of Eren and Mikasa's hotel room, holding her large coffee mug in hand as she tapped it with her fingertips. He was sitting on the couch and listening to music while he does routine maintenance on one of the many guitars to be used in tomorrow night's show, and he looked up at his mother with a raised eyebrow trying to figure out he where she could possibly be going with a conversation starter like that. After being together since they were nine years old, growing up under the same roof all those years and finally, for fucks sakes finally, dating their freshman year of high school, it sure had been a while. But what did that have to do with anything?

"Well, yeah..."

"Oh, don't look at me like that," She rushed to say because she realized how what had been said could have been taken horribly wrong. "You know how much I adore Mikasa. It's just that, ten years is a very long time to be dating someone, Eren." The young man gently propped his guitar up against the wall and leaned forward with his arms on his knees, fingers sinking into that head of shaggy brown hair before slowly dragging a hand down his face.

"Do you have any point to this, Mom? What are you trying to say?"

"I think that you need to ask that sweet girl to marry you already."

"Why?"

"Because you know I'm not the only person who wants to see you two get married."

"I don't know, Mom, I haven't really thought about marriage to be honest," Eren finally looked up at her with a sigh as the gears in his head finally began to turn. "And we haven't talked about it much, if at all."

"Well, I know that she thinks about it. Oh, how cute it was when you kids were little and she would ask me what it was like to be married to your father," Carla grinned and chuckled softly as she took a sip from her coffee mug,more than thrilled to see his lips curve up into a smile. "Seriously, you know how observant Grisha was and even he noticed something between you two."

"Really?"

"Really. I remember one time when she had asked me why we got married and I said that it was because we were in love. Then she asked me what love feels like, and I told her that she would know when the time comes, and smiled before she said in the sweetest voice 'I think I get it now'. But that's all besides the point, which is that I think you should to ask her to marry you." Carla smiled at the sound of her son's laughter which, though not a rare occurrence, hasn't been happening much lately after Grisha's passing last year. "It pained him that he wasn't going to be around to see all of the wonderful things you two will do together, Eren, I hope you know that. I know you weren't always on the best of terms but he did love you very much." He pressed his lips together and looked away, slowly nodding his head with a sigh.

"I kind of like how things are already, Mom."

"What are you afraid of, Eren? The only thing that would change is her last name and there would be a ring on her finger." It was the combination of those words that really got Eren searching himself for what he may or may not be afraid of when it comes to her, and that's when he realized how absolutely terrified he is that their dynamic will somehow change, which leads to his ultimate fear of losing Mikasa in general all over again. Sure, when they were little things had been great, but then he started treating her like shit because there she didn't need him to do things anymore, something Eren took pride in. But then, he couldn't take the tension anymore and bit the bullet, and ended up spilling his guts cryptically about how he would move mountains for her, how much he adores her, which led to them finally dating. Their relationship seriously has never been any better. Why should he change it?

"I guess I'm just afraid that everything will change. After what I put her through..." Eren slowly shook his head and sighed as he cracked his knuckles anxiously. "I can't do that to her again."

"And what makes you think either of you would let that happen? Eren, the love that you and Mikasa share is beautiful, and it should be celebrated with us and the people you guys care about. I can't see this being anything but positive." Carla smiled and wrapped an arm around her son's shoulders as she brought him in for a warm, comforting embrace. "Just think about it, okay?"

"Yeah, I'll think about it."

      •••

And think about it he did. All seventy two hours from that moment to right now when he's listening to Mikasa's giggle as she surfed the crowd, while the rest of the band continued playing I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing, a song requested by an audience member. Anyone with an instrument stopped in sync, sending waves of cheering and clapping throughout the auditorium as she was carefully helped back onto the stage by adoring fans. In rehearsals, it was agreed that Eren would have the last two songs in the lineup instead of Mikasa this time around, since she did the ending for the previous two shows - a decision which happens to work quite well for tonight, unbeknownst to her. "Oh my god, that was so much fun!" She said into her ear piece with a large grin as she carefully adjusted her microphone. "Thank you!" Mikasa looked over at her boyfriend with a smile, knowing that there's still a part of her that's in shock to be surrounded by people who think their covers and the music she writes with Eren are good enough that they want to listen, she felt complete. Her eyes flickered down to Carla standing down in the front row with a grin on her face and clapping along with the others after listening to the couple covering a few requested songs, just like they used to do when they were youngsters. Watching Mikasa move so gracefully across the stage made Eren feel nervous and it surprised him to no end because there isn't any reason why he feels that way - it's his girl, their friends, Carla, and their fans for fucks sake. Now, she stands just off stage with Hitch, helping herself to a fresh bottle of water while he stood up front with two of his closest friends, all of them smiling as they gave Eren's shoulders a couple of supportive pats. And then a pair of arms slipped around Armin's waist, something he should be used to after being with Annie for quite a few years now, and it made his laugh to feel them squeeze.

"Hi baby. Well, Eren, we're ready whenever you are."

"Honestly, dude," Jean smiled as he planted a kiss on his girlfriend's cheek, her chin resting on his shoulder as she hugs him from behind. "It's about time. I can't believe you made the poor thing wait ten fucking years."

"Shut up, I know, okay?" Eren laughed as he reached to remove his hair from his sweaty forehead. "I'm fixing it. I've never been more ready." And with that he turned away from his friends with his sights set on the microphone stand at the front of the stage, stealing a glance at his offstage girlfriend who gave him the cutest wink that honestly made him flush a little. The crowd erupted with cheering once more when he set the strap of his electric guitar over his shoulder, chuckling just a little bit as he looked out over the audience and anxiously ran his fingers through his hair. "I'd like to dedicate these next two songs to my beautiful girlfriend, Mikasa!" Offstage the girl's ears perked up at the sound of her name, looking past Hitch with wide eyes as she screwed the lid back onto her water bottle, and her friend smiled, fighting the urge to give a thumbs up.

"Wait, what did he just say?" That douchebag! That was my thing. Mikasa giggled to herself feeling endlessly confused because they had never discussed anything like this in rehearsal, in fact, now that she thinks about it, he never even mentioned what songs he was going to perform. And that was when the band began to play one of her all time favorite love songs, Angel by Aerosmith. And that was when Eren turned his head to look off stage with his same old goofy, sexy grin to see that she has dropped her water bottle, her hands now covering up what he assumes to be that beautiful smile. The time came for keyboards to step in, and Eren drew out the last note as he turned back to the microphone, making quite a few people whistle cat calls in compliment of his smooth transitions. "I'm alone, I don't know if I can face the night," He sang with his dreamy voice and glanced aside at her, greeted with a beautiful smile as she failed to hold it together off stage, then he added in the soft strums of his guitar. Eren looked back at the audience and smiled as he started preparing for the next part, giving the strings a much harder strum. "I'm in tears, and the crying that I do is for you!"

I want your love,

Lets break the walls between us.

Don't make it tough,

I'll put away my pride.

Enough's enough, I've suffered and I've seen the light!

Baby, you're my angel,

Come and save me tonight.

You're my angel,

Come and make it alright.

He briefly looked aside at her and smiled, because Carla is already standing beside Mikasa, smiling just as wide and both most definitely tearing up. "Don't know what I'm gonna do! About this feeling inside. Yes, it's true, loneliness took me for a ride, yeah yeah!"

Without your love,

I'm nothing but a beggar.

Without your love,

A dog without a bone.

What can I do? I'm sleeping in this bed alone.

Baby, you're my angel,

Come and save me tonight.

You're my angel,

Come and make it alright.

Come and save me tonight.

Backing up slightly from the microphone stand, Eren nodded at Jean for his solo and smiled as he glanced at a teary-eyed, smiling Mikasa. "You're the reason I live, you're the reason I die. You're the reason I give, when I lay down and cry. Don't need no reason why! Baby! Baby! Baby!"

You're my angel,

Come and save me tonight.

You're my angel,

Come and make it alright,

Come and save me tonight,

Come and save me tonight,

Come and save me tonight,

Come and save me tonight.

Eren turned to briefly look offstage while everyone finished out the song and played the same notes, watching as she impatiently bounced on her feet. "I can see her already freaking out off stage." He chuckled into his microphone as they all stopped at once over the cheering crowd, his nerves only growing when Hitch brought out a stool for him to sit on. And when he noticed that Carla was still missing from the audience, it reminded him that life with Mikasa just makes sense, and he can't imagine one without her. With his body sitting comfortably on the stool, the guitar propped up on one leg, Eren turned to look all around the stage to make sure everyone was in their places, and that Mikasa was still stuck backstage. That's when Annie began to play Heaven by Bryan Adams, exactly as Eren's eyes briefly locked with the young woman smiling and tearing up while his mother hugged her around the shoulders from behind. You could say that their avid fans were absolutely freaking out and it wouldn't be an understatement, especially when he started singing while playing that short electric solo. "Oh, thinkin' about all our younger years. There was only you and me, we were young and wild and free. Now nothin' can take you away from me. We've been down that road before. But that's over now. You keep me comin' back for more..." He smiled when people started up with cat calls and whistles, shouting his and Mikasa's names as he strummed harder to begin the chorus.

Baby, you're all that I want,

When you're lyin' here in my arms.

I'm findin' it hard to believe,

We're in heaven.

And love is all that I need,

And I found it there in your heart.

It isn't too hard to see,

We're in heaven.

Eren briefly looked aside with a smile to see her bouncing on her feet again because she's just dying to get to him, and his mother smiling as she gently wiped tears from beneath her own eyes. The crowd cheered when he turned back to them and flashed his signature grin. "Oh, once in your life you find someone, who will turn your world around, pick you up when you're feeling down."

Nothin' could change what you mean to me,

Oh there's lots that I could say,

But just hold me now.

'Cause your love will light the way.

And baby you're all that I want,

When you're lying here in my arms.

I'm finding it hard to believe,

We're in heaven.

Yeah and love is all that I need,

And I found it there in your heart.

It isn't too hard to see,

We're in heaven.

He smiled and glanced aside at Mikasa once more, who was one step away from becoming a complete mess as she wiped away the continuous flow of tears from beneath her eyes. "I've been waitin' for so long, for somethin' to arrive, for love to come along. Now our dreams are coming true, through the good times and the bad, yeah, I'll be standin' there by you!"

And baby you're all that I want,

When you're lyin' here in my arms.

I'm findin' it hard to believe,

We're in heaven.

And love is all that I need,

And I found it there in your heart.

It isn't too hard to see,

We're in heaven, oooh

He turned himself completely to face Mikasa and smiled as she pushed her hair out of her dewy eyes, since it's annoyingly persistent with falling across her face. "You're all that I want, you're all that I need..." With his eyes on her stormy grays, the band finished out the song and the crowd went absolutely ballistic when he finally said these three words as he handed his guitar off to Hitch: "Come here, baby!" Mikasa was like a blur because she ran into his arms so fast, making him almost fall backwards with her as he held his girl, who was crying happily into the crook of his neck. He was spinning her around while the crowd cheered over her giggle filled cries, watching the couple kiss like they needed to for air, and he held her body flush to his as she slowly slid down to her feet. It's now or never dude. For once, Eren didn't feel reluctant to pull his lips away because this time it's for a damn good reason. He watched her eyes widen as he reached into his back pocket for a little black box, the audience cheering, cat calling and whistling when he got down on one knee. "Mikasa Ackerman, you're my angel and you saved me from myself. I can't imagine a life without you and I don't want to either, because I know who I want by my side for the rest of my days..." She grinned and covered her mouth with her hands, watching with tears in her eyes as he slowly opened the tiny box. "Baby, will you marry me?" Eren smiled and graciously took the left hand she offered as she nodded her head with excitement because, at this point, she is a smiling, weeping mess. She's dreamed about marrying him for years now so this is literally a dream come true.

"Oh, Eren..." Mikasa gave a tearful chuckle as he planted a kiss on the top of her hand with a smile. "Yes!" She nodded once more and grinned, watching his incredible emerald eyes as the ring was slid down her dainty finger, and then she threw her arms around his neck as he started to stand, capturing his waist between her legs. "Yes, I'll marry you!" His arms tightly wrapped around her low back to hold her up on his waist as they proceeded to exchange frantic, tender kisses that were electric indeed, just like the very first they shared together one evening all those years ago.

[descensummichael]

My Heroine (Michael Langdon x fem!OC)— ix. the darker it gets

Hey hi, back at it again with another part! I’m having a lot of fun writing this, despite me taking literally over a year to only have ten full parts written. Staying inspired to write is hard and idk how most of you do it tbh. Anyways, hopefully this part will make more sense than the last (lol). Catch up here if you haven’t already! 

Warnings: depictions of violence, lots of religious imagery, Arella is generally p feisty/angsty in this one 

Arella continued down the sidewalk, her heels tapping rhythmically against the pavement. She kept up her pace, not even glancing back as Michael called for her. The conversation that had just occurred between the two of them freaked her out, though she was determined to ensure that Michael didn't see this. The slight upper hand she had gained on him had been a pleasant turn of events, and she wouldn't allow things to swing back the other way.

She couldn't help but snap at him, closing herself off as he explained himself. But it wasn't anger that caused the reaction this time; it was blatant fear.

She knew exactly what he meant.

The feeling that the words weren't hers, even though they were clearly coming out in her voice. Feeling as though she was being manipulated into saying things she otherwise wouldn't. She understood it all.

And it terrified her, producing a frigid chill that coursed through her and made a home in her bones.

But maybe this was Michael's intention; these strange happenings did ultimately begin to transpire after their very first meeting in the bar nearly two months prior. Perhaps it wasn't a coincidence, and all of this was just his sick way of fucking with her head. There had been an evident power struggle between them since the beginning, and he didn't seem to be one who would give up his hold on it that easily. She was quite cognizant of his kind, those with superiority complexes so substantial that any loss of sovereignty could cause them to spiral.

The way Michael seemingly submitted, all arrogance gone as if he was no longer the same person, did not make logical sense.

The entirety of the situation, and Michael in general, did not make sense. Nearly every brain cell was screaming at her to run, to never look back. When her eyes met his, vibrant red danger signs flashed in her mind. This boy was going to bring her nothing but trouble, and the overwhelming sense she had of this was palpable. She could feel it in her chest as her heart threatened to pound through her rib cage. She could taste it on her tongue, feel its nails clawing at her throat.

Run.

Run.

Get away.

She was moving faster now, the clicking of her heels growing louder, less balanced. Her fingers reached up to her neck, wrapping around the cross that hung there so tightly she could feel it pierce into her palm. She was hot, feverish almost as she glanced over her shoulder, almost half-expecting Michael to be there. When he wasn't, she breathed a sigh of relief, her hand falling to her side as she looked forward again.

If Michael intended to drive her mad, it was working, she thought, becoming irritated with herself more than anything.

Unaware of where she was headed, if anywhere at all, she allowed her subconscious to provide guidance. It always took her to where she needed to be. Pulling her hood low on her forehead, she let her mind to go blank, counting the number of steps in between each block of concrete.

One, two, three, one, two, three, four, one, two, three...

Shortly after, she stopped at the bottom of a massive set of stairs. Sighing, she ascended them hastily, yanking open the heavy doors at their peak. After removing her hood, she smoothed her hair down as she took in the dimly lit room. It was completely empty this time of night, the tapping of her boots noisily echoing as she made her way to the front pew. As she took a seat, her eyes settled on the large crucifix before her.

If anyone could help her, it was him. She allowed her eyes to fall shut, lips moving in a silent prayer as she clasped her hands on her lap.

But she couldn't stop thinking of Michael. She couldn't stop thinking about what he said, how she was desperate to fulfill her parents' image of her. How all of it was a lie.

Seems like bullshit to me, Michael's words murmured in her mind.

Maybe it was bullshit, she wondered, but promptly shoved these thoughts away as she began muttering a prayer aloud.

"I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth," she spoke, squeezing her eyes shut.

You come here, pleading to god, pleading he'll put you on the right path, his articulate statements came again.

"And in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit," she continued, her tone growing louder.

Let me tell you something.

"Born of the Virgin Mary," her voice cracked.

He's not listening.

"He descended into hell," she could no longer think straight, the saccharine intonations in her mind taking over.

He's not listening.

He's not listening.

He's not listening.

Was he? She wondered, the chorus in her mind ceasing all at once, leaving her in a deafening silence. The only sound was her breaths as she attempted to even them out.

The longer she sat there, the quiet atmosphere hanging uncomfortably around her, the more she believed Michael's words. Arella had spent much of her life struggling to correspond to the expectations her parents had for her, but none of it was ever enough. She had a temper, she was much too loud for a little girl, too stubborn, too bossy, and for heaven's sake, why couldn't she just take things for what they were without arguing about it?

She yearned for something different, to be free of the constraints placed on her since she was a child. And here Michael was, literally offering a chance at that. She was well aware of how wrong it was, the ache she had for him, but she was finding it harder and harder to resist.

Sighing, she pressed her palms against her eyes before speaking dryly: "God, help me."

But no help ever came.

❦❦❦

Arella was beginning to hate herself as she swiftly proceeded down the steps and onto the sidewalk once again. A chill had descended, and she shoved her hands deep into her pockets as she headed back in the direction of where she parked her car. Sliding her phone out, she was almost tempted to get an Uber back to the cafe.

Stupid, she thought to herself, tapping on the screen with her nearly frozen fingers.

She didn't have a chance to react as she collided with someone walking the opposite way. Slightly startled, she stepped back, going to move around them. Fingers grasped her left arm as her phone was taken out of her right hand. Her gaze drifted from the hand clutching her arm up to the face of its owner.

"You should watch where you're going, baby. Never know the kinds of people you could run into on these streets," the stranger spoke, a malicious smile forming across his features. He was still holding her phone above her head, a chuckle leaving his lips.

She smiled sweetly at him, juxtaposing the rage she could already feel amplifying, scraping at her chest, begging to be free. "You shouldn't have done that."

"What?" He questioned her, sneering. "What are you going to do about it, little girl?"

She wouldn't— couldn't— swallow it any longer, burning white-hot behind her eyelids until her irises were nearly black. Blatant ignorance was one thing, but condescension she refused to tolerate.

She tilted her head slightly to one side. A cracking sound resonated as each of his fingers were removed from its grip, bending unnaturally backwards.

"What the fuck?" the man exclaimed, falling to the pavement below him. "What did you do to me?"

"You're right," a final crack came from the arm holding her phone. Crouching down, she plucked it out of his hand. "You don't know the kinds of people you could run into on these streets. You should really be more careful."

She smirked down at him as he cradled his arm in his broken fingers, tears streaming down his face now. She stood back up, continuing on her way as she ignored the cries coming from behind her.

She knew exactly how she was going to handle Michael and the whole situation.

Maybe God was listening after all.

[aizenat]

So in honor of the Fruits Basket reboot who would you say are your fave Furuba characters and ships (canon) and why? Least fave Furuba characters and canon ships and why?

Oh hi nonny! This is fun! I meant to reply earlier, but I know this is going to get in depth so I wanted to be on my computer when I replied. Also, this is going to have major Furuba spoilers (duh). 

I’ll start with the least favorites to get the negatives out of the way. My least fave characters are hard because I tend to love more than hate characters in this series. However...

I didn’t really like Motoko or any of the Prince Yuki fanclub girls. I had a much better appreciation for her after that graduation scene; I’m glad she didn’t confess to Yuki and instead just thanked him for helping make her high school experience fun. When you think of that, how she had a group of friends who all shared this adoration for him, and how much fun she had, it is sweet. 

BUT the fucking fangirls really helped create a culture in their school where people couldn’t get close to Yuki even if they wanted to! And seeing how much that hurt Yuki, despite their intentions, it irks me. It was only once there were people like Manabe and Kimi who didn’t give a fuck about the fangirls (Kimi’s handling of the fangirls was just so wonderfully delicious for this very reason) that Yuki was finally able to have a fun high school experience and let loose a bit. It’s not all Motoko’s and the fangirls’ fault; Yuki had his own demons to fight through. But you can’t deny that if everyone knows that there is a legit fanclub with strict rules on how anyone, especially girls, are allowed to communicate with him, they’re not going to think they can joke around and goof off with him. 

Interestingly enough, I think her daughter makes up for her. Her daughter’s love of the Sohmas is so much funnier, non-obtrusive, and more respectful than Motoko’s was. 

This might be unpopular or surprising, but I really dislike Shigure. Aside from him being a disgusting lech (that scene with him going the high school talking about seeing high school girls is sick. And as someone who is 27 going on 28 my own damn self, I would protect high school girls from perverts like him until my dying breath), I just find his motivations and mindset fucked up. Like, he was fucked when he decided Akito was the love of his life, but the things he does just to get a reaction from her is annoying as BALLS. Idk if we ever got a definite number for how old Akito is, but she’s still much younger than Shigure. And doing shit like SLEEPING WITH HER MOTHER out of spite when you know Akito is just one wind blow away from losing her fucking shit is just so gross. He’s too grown to be doing dumb shit like that, and I have zero respect for him. 

Also, on a side note, I don’t really like Kureno either. Not like he did anything in particular (except get with Arisa, which I don’t like at all), but I find him boring as dirt. The only interesting thing about him is that he’s the first one who’s curse broke. Cool. So why are you here? He’s not much of a character; he’s just there to show that the curse IS breaking, and then to cause tension between Akito and Shigure. All while being dull and annoying. Boy, bye. 

Least favorite “ships” is funny because I actually dislike more couples than I like. But among my least favorite are: 

I think I lowkey read Arisa as a lesbian as a kid, and it was really annoying that Takaya-sensei decided to force her into a relationship. Especially because I just wasn’t sold on her and Kureno. Kureno is nothing like Tohru for her to be doing that “Oh, he’s like Tohru” thing. He did one thing she would do, boo hoo. I can’t imagine Tohru also doing what he did with Akito (ie, not leaving/not establishing boundaries), so there’s that. Also, the, like, 9 year or whatever age difference is a hard no. Arisa had so much potential and personality and whatnot than to become that fuckboy’s housewife. ALSO, that line when she says she wants to hit like 6 feet or something, and Kyo asks if she wants to be a model or something, I couldn’t help but think “oooh, she should be a model!” Imagine Arisa as a model! That’s what she should have been; not Kureno’s girlfriend. UGH! 

No matter how many times I read it, I can’t get over Katsuya and Kyoko’s age difference. I mean, at least Arisa is in high school and been through some shit to mature her where you can KINDA be okay with her and Kureno (except me, who hates it 100%). But Kyoko was IN MIDDLE SCHOOL. Like, how you a grown man falling for a MIDDLE SCHOOL STUDENT. The fuck? The hell? Jesus did not die on the cross for this. Even taking into consideration culture and the time period, it’s 10000000000% NOT okay. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. Even when I was the same age as Kyoko myself reading this (like 15ish), I had a HUGE issue when I learned about that age gap. It’s gross. It’s predatory. And when he’s even called out on it by Kyoko, he laughs it off. 

His personality was cute, but I don’t know why they couldn’t wait. Like, even if they did something where they met when she was in middle school, and then maybe ten years later, while Kyoko was reforming her delinquent ways, she finds Katsuya again and reconnects with him, fine. But really? 

I respect it only because they made Tohru and she’s a gem, and he died long before the story began, so it is what it is. But ew, hell no. 

The last couple I don’t really like, and this is really unpopular, is Haru and Rin. I know most people who read this love them, but I always found their relationship to be too codependent and unhealthy. Rin isn’t my favorite character, but considering her history, I can’t be too mad at her. Not to mention she reacts the way you would expect a high school girl going through what she did to behave. I was friends with angry girls like her in high school; I get it. I also saw those same girls get into unhealthy codependent relationships with guys and are still struggling today. I like Haru a lot, and I’m sure he and Rin could be sweet. I love how protective he is of her. But Haru just wasn’t right for Rin when they were going through the breakup and then getting back together thing. The things they said to each other were just off putting to me. Once things calmed down, they were fine, but I found it hard to root for them because of what a weird introduction we got to them as a couple. 

Now on to the positives. My favorite characters. This is going to be conventional, buuuuuut...

Tohru, obviously. Only losers who fell off Fruits Basket don’t love Tohru. She’s very awe inspiring honestly with her attitude. You read her reactions and think how you want to be that sort of person. You want the be the person someone looks at and thinks of as home. You want to be the sort of person who is encouraging and positive and happy. You want to be someone full of light. 

I do have critiques of her being a “perfect mother” character, and how she finds herself mothering a bunch of guys (like, literally taking care of three males cooking and cleaning for them. Gross). There is something to be said about whether Tohru would work as a character if she had real goals other than “get a job and support myself.” If she had goals like wanting to go away to college and get a career. Like, imagine Tohru as a therapist. She’d be able to help so many people. But no, her humble Japanese heart wouldn’t allow her to go for some sort of passion that grandiose. Like, we live in a modern day where it’s GOOD for girls to have passions, so it’s kinda off putting that her only passion is homemaking and nurturing those around her. 

BUT, she’s still so sweet and kind and makes you want to be a better person! lol. 

What’s funny about Flying Pot-kun is that when he was introduced, I remember thinking “he reminds me of someone.” And I was racking my brain of people I knew irl, wondering who he reminded me of. Then Yuki starts going “he reminds me of someone,” and I was like “What? Yuki too?” And when Yuki thought of his brother, I started DYING laughing! It’s ironic that Yuki’s best friend ends up being a younger version of his brother who irritates him. 

Manabe is really fun, but I really love his relationship with Yuki. I like when they fight, when they talk. But what really impressed me is the scene with Komaki, where she tells him off about what he said to Tohru at her mother’s wake. And how instead of getting defensive (”what? I was only looking out for you!”), he realized that he fucked up. I wish he would have apologized to Tohru earlier, even if she didn’t remember him until a while later, but he’s a guy so I don’t expect much from them (whoops, my misandry was showing). 

Still, Manabe reminds me of my guy friends from hs, and how fun and stupid and silly they were. I could see him hanging out with them, getting in trouble with them, so I like him lol. 

My #1 favorite character has to be Yuki. What’s hilarious is that when I first read Fruits Basket through (so, as a teen, reading all the volumes as they came out during the Tokyopop run), I HATED Yuki. I thought he was a dick to Kyo unnecessarily. There’s that one moment right after the “True Form Reveal” I believe where Kyo is visibly trying to not snap at Yuki the way he normally does. But then Yuki provokes him and causes Kyo to yell at him. As the oppressed older sister of a favored younger brother, I know first hand how it feels to be provoked to anger by someone who knows how to push your buttons. And so I likened Yuki to my brother and hated him for that. It felt like to me that every time Kyo wanted to move on, Yuki was there to put him down. 

Then I reread Fruits Basket when I was 19 and realized “Holy shit, Yuki is a male version of me.” Not 100% obviously, but his self loathing and the way he isolated himself even after no longer being under the direct control of his family was something I could relate to. I realized that I disliked Yuki because I saw in him all the flaws I disliked in myself: hating him was easy because I was hating these parts of myself. 

When I understood that, I related to his story more, and he’s always my favorite character now. I especially love once he becomes student body president. All of the scenes with him and the rest of his student council members are gold. Kimi and her stupid flirting, Manabe going off track, Chibi-suke’s play at maturity while everyone else goofs off, and Machi’s quiet and awkward energy leads to some amazing moments. Seeing Yuki interact with them in a way he never lets himself behave with his family is great; and we get to see a side of him you know his classmates rarely see too. You watch his confidence grow and it just makes my heart glow. I’m smiling while I’m typing this lol. 

Favorite couples? Tbqh, there’s only two I really love and respect, and they’re the obvious two. All others can fall apart tomorrow and I’d feel NOTHING. But these two were endgame and perfect. 

Tohru and Kyo. God, the first time I read this series, when I realized that it was setting those two up, I wanted to DIE from happiness. Kyo was my BOY first time around, and he could do no wrong. So to know he “won” over Yuki and got the girl made me so happy. Rereading it, I always find Tohru and Kyo so adorably compatible. Tohru is very good at reading his love language, and seeing his deeper meaning. I remember someone mentioned that Yuki, in the beginning, still kept a lid on his feelings, making it hard for Tohru to 100% connect to him. And that Kyo was always so explosive with his feelings; even if it’s awkward and not 100% how he feels, Kyo still expresses how he feels as he’s feeling them. 

I think that’s why when she confesses to him, she takes his rejection as REAL rejection. Because Kyo is always the honest one, the one she rarely has to question how he feels. Kyo is always honest. I thought that was a good assessment, and a good reason why they work. 

Not only is Tohru’s love for Kyo healing for him, but her love for Kyo is healing for Tohru. Being able to move forward and create a future with him allows her to move on from her past. Through loving Kyo, and working on breaking the curse so she can free him and be with him, can she move past her mother’s death. Imagine if she just graduated, got a job, and lived on her own after high school. She’d be alone. And left with remembering her mother all the time. It would have broken her. Loving Kyo meant she had to be willing to let her mother go a bit. Move on and live despite her mother not being around. And after Kyo stopped being a dumbass, that’s what his love was for her. It freed her. Not as a distraction, but as a way for her to heal from it. 

They were really made for each other. 

Despite my love for Tohru and Kyo, Yuki and Machi are just my absolutely FAVORITE. Their dynamic together is so interesting. Yuki is so used to people putting him on a pedestal that he’s intrigued by someone who’s like “he’s not a prince; he’s just an average guy.” And when he starts giving her attention, Machi, who is used to being ignored and overlooked, is flabbergasted. Not only that, but he UNDERSTANDS her without her having to say anything. And what’s funny is that that is how Yuki is. He doesn’t express his feelings the way Kyo does; he holds a lot in. His feelings might manifest in small ways, but it’s hard for others to read it.

Because it’s how he is, Yuki is able to read deeper into Machi’s actions. He hears a story from Manabe about her walking in the snow, just making footprints, and then sees that she destroys clean and organized rooms and spaces. He puts two and two together: she hates when things are “perfect” and orderly. So she has to “ruin” them. And just like that, he gets it. Like, imagine what they’re house has to be like with Yuki being bad at cleaning and Machi just HATING a messy home! And considering how their son almost brags about his messy habits in Fruits Basket: Another, jfc, it’s gotta be bad! 

I think that’s why Yuki and Machi are so cute to me: they also compliment each other. They can observe each other and see deeper than what others see. Machi didn’t just see his perfect persona at school: she saw beneath that. She remarks that he seems lonely, and he is. He sees her actions and realizes the truth. They think of each other and then do things based on that. Yuki sees her clutching a Mogeta when she meets his brother and realizes she must like him. Then sees another Mogeta while out and buys it for her just like that. Machi asks Yuki what he wants and when he says fertilizer like a dumbass not realizing her intent, she goes out to get it for him (carrying fertilizer by herself couldn’t have been easy). 

They see each other. And that’s what’s so beautiful. In a world where they both, for one reason or another, are so easily forgotten and overlooked, they see each other. They found each other. They get each other. FUCKING CHRIST IT’S TOO BEAUTIFUL TO THINK ABOUT. 

Also, some honorable mentions of couples I actually liked: Komaki and Manabe (I hope she beats his ass every time he calls her his meat angel lol), Ayame and Mine (I wish we saw more from them; then maybe I’d like them enough to wax poetry over them), and Hatori and the Great Mayu-chan-sensei (god, those two!!!!! Wonderful!!!!!). 

Thanks, nonny, this was fun!