#like i kid u not the most monotone discussion of all time

[t-lostinworlds]

it's midterms season. i'm so tired. there's so many art stuff I need to get done and one of our instructors seem to get off at assigning as many projects to their students as possible

[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

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“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.”

[ahatintimepieces]

Fabric Hearts

Remember the first part of that build-a-bear au I wrote for @smieska-draws? It’s back! But now the au name makes sense! Imagine!

Luka, known as the Snatcher to most of the mall locals, runs the Kraft-a-Kid while his daughter, Hattie, runs around with her friends. There’s definitely nothing suspicious about Luka. The rumors that he snatches the souls of children and stuffs them into the dolls are completely unfounded. Probably. Most likely. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine.

This is, of course, another au that Smieska and I both developed and like to swap ideas for SO send her your love and adulation because I couldn’t have written this without her ;o; <333 Here’s the link to the piece she did for first part if you haven’t seen it yet (which u should because it’s fabulous and incredible). Without further ado, here it is!

Words: 4,131

The door squeaked open as Luka recorded the number of tiny, elastic collars with bright bells in the back.

“Dimitri can’t make it today,” he warned without looking up from his clipboard. His golden gaze flickered up towards the boxes filled with cotton stuffing and he quickly counted them as footsteps approached. “If you get a sudden influx of customers, come grab me.”

“It’s me, Dad,” Hattie’s voice came from right beside him.

“Did I stutter?” He glanced down without missing a beat. She gave him a deadpan stare as he grinned. His sharp canines glinted in the unnaturally bright florescent lights. “Come on, kiddo. How about you help me with my business endeavors instead of frittering away your summer romping around the mall?”

She readjusted the brim of the top hat she made from her millinery lessons at the fabric store. Why his child fixated on hat-making out of everything she could have taken an interest in was beyond him but even he had to admit her royal purple top hat was well crafted.

“I’m going with Belle and the others to get lunch at the food court,” she said, ignoring his jesting. “Can I have money?”

“You know if you had a job you wouldn’t need to be asking me,” he lamented dramatically before wedging the clipboard between his arm and side. He reached for his wallet in the back pocket of his slacks.

“I’m not even twelve.” She blinked up at him with large blue eyes. “There are child labor laws.”

“Excellent.” He nodded, opening his wallet. “Don’t let anyone in the mall convince you otherwise. But,” he slipped out a bill and gave her a pointed look, “if you accept this, you have to do me a favor.”

“I already cleaned the bathrooms last weekend,” she whined.

His grin widened.

“Tough luck, kiddo.” He twisted the bill in the air, watching her nose scrunch as she seriously weighed her options. After a second of letting her think that she was going to have to do her least favorite chore, he extended the bill towards her. “Just bring me back a coffee and I’ll consider us even.”

Relief instantly flooded her features as she took the bill.

“I can do that! Your usual?” She headed towards the door.

“That’ll work,” he said, tucking away his wallet and grabbing the clipboard again.

“Thanks, Dad!” she chirped before moving to open the door.

Just as she reached for it, the door swung open, and she stumbled back. Luka immediately dropped the clipboard and slipped behind her with the speed of shadows dodging the light. She smacked into his legs, and he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder as Alex walked in with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry, kid! I didn’t see you there.” Alex winced, looking from Hattie to Luka’s hard glare.

“I’m fine!” Hattie promised, giving a bright smile until she placed her hand over Luka’s fingers. She jolted and twisted around. “Dad, are you okay? You’re really warm.”

“It is hot in here.” Alex tugged at their collar, wincing.

“The thermostat dial was probably nudged,” Luka dismissed, pulling away and stooping to grab the clipboard. “I’ll take a look.”

“Should I get you water?” Hattie asked.

“I have water. Now go have fun.” He shooed her towards the door. “The sooner you leave the sooner you can run my errand.”

Hattie hesitated but when he returned to his task of recording inventory, he heard her retreating footsteps.

“Sorry,” Alex muttered as they crossed over to the table for the employees. They dropped their backpack before grabbing the light purple apron with their nametag.

“Let’s just be careful with how forcefully we open doors, hm? I don’t want to deal with any workplace liability cases. They’re a pain.” Luka shot the teen a toothy grin. Glancing back down to the clipboard, he added in a more monotone cadence, “Anyway, Dimitri can’t come today, so once Ember leaves, it’ll just be you and me for the rest of the day. If it gets too crowded on the floor and I’m not around, come find me.”

“Right.” They nodded firmly. While wiping back their bangs and smearing the beads of sweat on their brow, they hurried out. Once the door closed behind them and Luka was alone, he let out a sigh.

The flame that had flared when Hattie nearly got hit crackled noisily in his otherwise empty chest. Luka placed one of his pale hands over the flame and counted out the seconds between metered inhales and exhales. The snap and pop of embers faded and when he glanced towards the thermostat, the temperature in the room lowered back to a comfortable range.

Not that he was bothered by the heat, but he didn’t need his employees passing out.

Ember’s shift ended as he got to counting the unstuffed plush shells. As she hung her apron over the hook, she informed him that two separate groups had just entered the store. Luka nodded, finishing his current count before getting ready to help Alex on the floor.

He brushed back his long, spiky hair into a ponytail. Stray strands the color of soot fluttered against his cheek, and he tucked them behind his ear.

They reflected a warm violet when they caught the light.

With his hair as contained as he could manage, he grabbed his own amethyst apron with the Kraft-a-Kid’s signature logo; a stylized baby goat and parent goat waving a friendly greeting. After draping it over his black suit and making sure it didn’t displace his dark purple tie, he tied the apron with nimble fingers, clawed at the tips. He double-checked that the pocket had extra thread and a compact sewing kit before he clipped on his name tag and headed out into the workshop.

Alex snapped their head up from one of the stuffing stations, looking relieved when they spotted Luka rounding the counter. Alex returned their full attention to the small girl and her mother while Luka smiled at the two teens with a younger child hovering by the bins of unstuffed shells by the entrance.

While he didn’t know them personally, he recognized Brooke and her younger sister Hali, who worked (or in Hali’s case just hovered around in the back when not at daycare) at their uncle’s travel agency, and then Makoto, who worked at the jewelry store. Judging from their uniforms, the teens were probably using their breaks to accompany Hali. Since he often heard good things about their work ethic and Hali’s sweet nature from Mari, he assumed he had an easy session ahead. He waved them over.

Brooke and Makoto shared a nervous look while Hali bounded over with a bright smile.

“Why, hello there!” Luka pasted on his most vibrant customer service smile as he lowered onto the seat by the stuffing station. Cotton and soft fibers filled the glass tank decorated to look like hearty trees and branches climbed around the edges. The machine itself matched the lilac walls and brown and bronze gears that decorated them. The bins and shelves that held the merchandise throughout the store were all structured to look like spools of golden thread.

Holding an unstuffed goat with dark brown fuzz and silver horns, Hali shyly smiled up at Luka as Brooke and Makoto slowly joined.

“I see you’ve picked your new friend!” Luka held out his hands and Hali gingerly lowered the flat goat into his palms. “Before we bring them to life, how stuffed do you want them to be?”

“Um?” Hali tilted her head with a blank expression.

“Do you want them to be firm or squishy?” Luka clarified, fitting the goat around the nozzle and getting his foot ready over the pedal.

“Fiwm, pwease!” Hali declared in a cutesy voice.

“Excellent choice!” Luka set to work, pumping the pedal as he filled out the head of the goat plush. The machine roared to life, blowing air and fluff with the force of a vacuum. Though, his ears perked when he caught Brooke and Makoto in an intense discussion as they remained a couple steps back. What he couldn’t hear over the machine, he pieced together easily enough.

He knew the rumors and could guess what was on their mind when they mentioned the Snatcher and stolen souls.

Luka smirked as he pulled his foot from the pedal and the machine hushed.

“Now it’s time for my favorite part.” He beamed, pulling off the firmly stuffed goat and then reaching for a bucket full of small felt hearts. “The soul ceremony! Go ahead and pick the heart that most resonates with you.”

“If it’s just a heart, why is it called a soul ceremony?” Brooke asked, her voice quivering as she pressed closer to Makoto.

Hali, meanwhile, was completely enraptured with picking out the right fabric heart.

“Hearts, souls, same thing, really,” Luka soothed with a toothy grin, giving the teens a considering look.

Makoto’s gaze flickered down to his fangs. She lifted her chin, trying to project an air of confidence. But her furrowed brows wavered.

“Souws awe heawts?” Hali gasped, looking up with awe.

“Absolutely!” Luka kept his voice cheerful, gesturing to the bucket. “It’s what gives your new friend life! I imagine without one, they would feel pretty empty and hollow.” Keeping his chin tilted down, he lifted his eyes towards the teens and lowered his voice just a touch. “Wouldn’t you feel pretty soulless without a heart?”

The two stiffened.

“Pwobabwy!” Hali chirped, completely unaware of their increasing unease. She dug around the hearts and pursed her lips. “How do woo know which heawt is the best?”

“That’s up to you!” Luka bounced effortlessly back into an upbeat cadence. He pinched a heart with a checkerboard pattern in red and white. “The nice thing about these hearts is that they’re blank slates. They’ll be filled with whatever you put into them. But don’t put in too much!” he added with a chuckle. “Wouldn’t want your new friend to be more you than you!”

Brooke squeaked in fright and his grin stretched.

“I wiwl take this one, then!” Hali held up a solid red heart.

“Great! Hold on to it, now.” Luka placed the tub back down. “First, why don’t you rub the heart on your hair so your little buddy will always have soft fur!”

Hali beamed at that and rubbed the fabric heart on her hair. When she pulled it back down, some of the blond strands followed the heart while the strands too far away stuck up from the lingering static.

“Well done! Now, rub it against your funny bone so your friend has a sense of humor.” Luka tapped his elbow when Hali crinkled her nose for a moment. Her eyes lit up in understanding and once the heart was granted good humor, Luka added, “and why don’t you strike a superhero pose, so that your pal will hold courage.”

Hali giggled as she placed her hands on her hips and preened.

“Fantastic. Lastly, I want you to rub the heart between your palms!” Luka motioned for her to mimic him as he demonstrated. “Now, when it’s nice and warm, give it a clap to start its heartbeat!”

The clap resounded through the workshop and the teens jolted behind her.

“That should do it,” Luka praised, holding out his palm. Hali handed the heart over, and he slipped it into the goat, tucking it snuggly away in the cotton and fluff.

He then set to filling out the rest of the plush. Once it was stiff and sturdy, he handed it to her, asking if she was content with it. When he received an enthusiastic nod, he took it back and sealed the hole. He snipped the extra thread with the scissors in his apron and then passed the goat back to Hali.

“Here’s your new friend! Be sure to visit our shop in the back! We have plenty of accessories and outfits for the newest member of your family,” Luka recited the same sales pitch as always. “Once you’re ready, head over to an open kiosk so you can fill out the adoption papers. If you need any help, Alex or I will be overjoyed to assist.”

“Thank woo!” Hali hurried over to the accessories, hugging the goat to her chest.

Luka clasped his hands and turned to the teens. When his gaze flickered to the floppy hooded doll in Makoto’s arms, her embrace tightened.

“Ready?” He motioned for her to hand it over so that he could stuff it.

She looked to Brooke, who shrugged with uncertainty. Makoto stepped forward.  

Keeping his tone light, he went through the same script as always. He asked if she wanted the doll to be firm or squishy and, in an effort to loosen her up a bit, offered to add any fun sound boxes or scents to the plush. She remained on edge until he asked about the nametag on her uniform as the machine roared to life again. She explained how her boss liked to give everyone themed nicknames and she was saddled with “Makoneko.” When he asked if she appreciated the nickname, she pointedly rolled her eyes as he removed his foot from the machine pedal again. Her shoulders relaxed when he chuckled.

“Your turn to pick a heart,” Luka twittered in an overly cheerful voice as he held out the bucket.

“Do I have to do the ceremony?” Makoto hesitated, plucking the first heart she saw. Rather than scared, her bored expression mirrored that of many teens who wanted to skip the step.

Perfect.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” He shrugged casually. “What is a heart without a heartbeat? A soul without a person behind the personality?”

“What?” She faltered, shoulders slowly stiffening again as Brooke’s eyes widened.

“I only mean it’ll be a sorry existence for this little friend.” Luka waved the stubby hands of the purple plush toy. “And you get out what you put in.” Her brows dipped in slight confusion, and he smirked. “You have to at least start its heartbeat. You don’t want to bring a ghost home, do you?”  

“Just do the ceremony!” Brooke hissed through clenched teeth.

“F-fine,” Makoto said, slowly lifting the heart to her long black locks. “So, hair for soft fur?”

“Does it look like this one has fur?” Luka gestured to the doll with the yellow spiral in its hood. He scoffed, turning up his nose. “Of course not! No. First, why don’t you rub the heart against your belly so that it’s full of laughter.”

“I thought that was the elbow.” Makoto crinkled her nose. Though she rubbed the heart against her stomach, eager to get it over with.

“There is a difference between telling good jokes and laughing at them, kiddo,” Luka offered with a smirk. “Now, how about you jump up and down a few times? I’m sure your friend would love to share some of your energy.”

“What does that mean?” She jolted.

“Just that exercise keeps the heart healthy,” Luka said placidly.

Her eyes narrowed but she eventually gave a sluggish skip.  

“Then, rub it against your ear, so it will always listen.” He smiled brightly, being sure to bare his teeth. Once she complied, he clasped his hands together. “I’m sure you know what to do now! Warm it between your palms and then clap to start the heartbeat!”

She let out the breath that she had been holding, relieved it was finally over. She gave a small clap before passing the heart back. He slipped it into the doll.

“Any names in mind for your friend?” Luka prompted as his foot tapped the pedal.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled curtly, purposefully trying to let the whirling air in the stuffing machine drown out her answer.

“How’s this feel?” he asked a few seconds later when the machine hushed again. He pulled the doll from the nozzle and passed it back to her.

“Good.” She returned it after assessing the squishiness.

“If you haven’t got any names, I always thought these particular dolls looked like minions,” he prattled, closing the seam. When she didn’t respond, he continued lightly, “so Minion might be a good name.” He glanced up to meet her gaze and lowered his tone. “You did make sure it’ll listen. It’ll be an obedient little kiddo.”

Her breath hitched.

“Obedient to who?” she challenged, maintaining a fragile glare.

“All done!” Luka snapped upright after snipping the excess thread, pretending he hadn’t heard her question. “Welcome your friend into the world!”

Makoto accepted the doll, her gaze flickering between it and Luka with uncertainty.

���Same as always,” he droned in his peppy, customer service voice. “Browse to your contentment. My daughter recommends the plush purple cherries. You want to keep your buddy happy and fed! Make sure to finalize the adoption and meet Alex or I by the counter.” He glanced over to find the other young girl with her mother already at the cash register. “Looks like it’ll be Alex!”

Makoto nodded numbly as Brooke stepped forward and looped her arm through hers, rescuing Makoto by tugging her away.

“One more thing,” Luka began, keeping his eyes on his clean-up routine. The teens’ footsteps paused as they hovered. Though his smile laced his voice, his enunciation was sharp. “I’m sure the Snatcher doesn’t have to tell you but be sure to treat your new friend as you would yourself. You put your soul into bringing them to life, after all.”

The teens gasped.

“Have a good day, kids.” Laughter laced his voice.

They rushed away as he chuckled.

While he finished cleaning up, Hattie returned with her friends. As soon as she spotted him behind the stuffing machine, she rushed across the tiles decorated to look vaguely like a forest path.

“Here’s your coffee,” she chirped, holding up the cup.

“Any plans for the rest of the day?” he asked, pushing to his feet and picking stray fluff from his apron. Once he was as clean as he was going to get, he accepted the drink. He held it towards his lips, pausing to quirk a brow at young Muriel and Timmy as they passed the stuffing machines to check out all the colorful outfits. Belle, meanwhile, joined Hattie with her azure bow bouncing in her dark coils.

“We’re going to head to the bookstore.” Hattie shrugged. “Tim’s friend is hosting a card game tournament.”

“Remember to be back by six,” he instructed. “Don’t go snacking after four or you’ll spoil your dinner.”

“I know, Dad,” she huffed dramatically.

“Also, Mom says hi, Mr. Kingsley,” Belle pipped in.

“Tell Mari I return the sentiment. Now get your friends to stop loitering.” He turned back towards Hattie and rose his voice so Timmy and Mu could hear. “They scare away customers.”

“Says the Snatcher,” Timmy whispered to Mu.

Luka covered his smirk with the coffee cup. His gaze shifted over Hattie and Belle and he watched as Makoto and Brooke fled the store at a brisk pace. Hali struggled to keep up, but she managed to meet his eyes and offered a cheerful wave.

“Fine,” Hattie sighed. “Come on, guys!”

“I need to stop by Mom’s before we head to the bookstore,” Belle mentioned as she and Hattie turned to leave. “I left my cards with my backpack.”

As the girls left, Luka turned to head back towards the counter, taking a sip of his coffee. He immediately winced.

“Ugh, tepid,” he grumbled as Timmy and Mu ran past, hurrying out to follow Hattie and Belle.

After making sure the kids all had their backs turned and Alex was busy with something on the counter, Luka summoned a gentle ember to his hand. While the flame harmlessly licked the cup, the coffee warmed inside until steam wafted from the hole in the lid. He took a tentative sip and swallowed the scalding liquid.

The flames in his chest crackled and popped, and the knots in his shoulders eased.

He snuffed out the ember in his hand as he lowered the cup. Mist trailed from the lid as the coffee maintained its heat.

“I think you scarred those two for life,” Alex muttered as Luka returned to the counter.

“Which two?” he asked, mind still on Hattie and her friends.

“Brooke and Makoto.” Alex glanced up, shaking their head with a scolding expression.

“I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary,” Luka said calmly. He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee during his momentary break. “If those hooligans are letting their imaginations run wild, it’s not on my conscience.”

“Uh-huh.” Alex gave him an unimpressed look. “Also, I think we’re running low on the beach ball accessories.”

“I noticed,” Luka muttered, swirling his cup pensively. “Those aren’t particularly popular, and we are getting near the end of the season…”

While they discussed whether they needed to send out an order or if they would make it until the fall selection came out, Hattie rolled on the balls of her feet as she, Timmy, and Mu waited for Belle to return from her mom’s flower shop just across from Kraft-a-Kid. Hattie idly watched all the mallgoers, thoughts blank, but Timmy and Mu had their eyes locked on Kraft-a-Kid, thoughts whirling noisier than the stuffing machines.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Belle announced as she bounced out with her deck of cards.

“Hattie.” Timmy whirled around. “Your dad’s magic!”

“Timmy, he doesn’t steal souls, we’ve been over this,” Hattie whined, crossing her arms.

“If he doesn’t steal souls, then what’s with his coffee?” Mu snapped, nodding her head towards the display window where Luka could be seen leaning against the counter inside the workshop.

Hattie squinted, trying to figure out what was out of place with the steaming coffee cup. After a moment, she turned to Belle, who shrugged.

“It’s hot!” Mu gestured wildly, causing her blond mustache to bob with her movement. “Look at that steam!”

Hattie blinked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Belle supplied dryly. “Because Hattie ordered it hot.”

“But he said it was tepid!” Timmy argued. “We heard him!”

“He probably thinks it is,” Hattie said, knitting her brows together. “He likes his coffee hot enough to burn his tastebuds.”

“You aren’t getting it!” Mu huffed. “It wasn’t steaming when he said it was cold!”

“Okay, but even if he somehow heated it up, that didn’t have anything to do with stealing souls,” Belle appeased.

“That’s what we mean!” Timmy urged. “If he can use one type of magic, he can use others!”

“I regret the day I told you about those rumors,” Hattie grumbled.

It didn’t matter as much when strangers said it, but instead of laughing with Hattie when she told them that people thought her dad was some kind of heartless, soul-snatching monster, Mu and Timmy had latched onto the conspiracy and ever since refused to let go. She couldn’t talk about new product plushies or designs around them anymore because they would just start a debate about which shell would best hold the souls of children.

“Look can we just get going?” She started walking in the direction of the bookstore and Belle matched her pace. Mu hurried to catch up as Timmy trailed behind, keeping a watchful eye on Kraft-a-Kid.

“Are you sure you haven’t seen anything weird?” Mu insisted. “Heard any screams of children he caught? Seen any dolls move in the corner of your eye?”

“You know he laughs like a cartoon villain?” Timmy added.

“The store is literally called Kraft-a-Kid!” Mu continued. “Open your eyes, Hattie!”

“Kid is just another word for baby goat!” Belle argued. “It’s cute!”

“We aren’t talking about this anymore!” Hattie snapped, tugging down on the brim of her hat. She turned away from them and focused on Belle. “So, what deck are you using? The one with fairy types? Or your cat themed one?”

“Both!” She grinned mischievously as she happily helped to redirect the conversation. “I combined them because I wanted to use all my favorites. How about you?”

“Going with the forest deck.” Hattie glanced up, where her deck was safely tucked away in the hidden compartment she stitched into the top hat.

Timmy and Mu huffed, letting their argument go as they pipped in with talking about their own decks. But it was only a matter of time before they started back on their theories about her dad’s supposed magic. Trying not to deflate too much, she kept her eyes forward. She swallowed her frustration and focused on the upcoming tournament.

Besides, even if her dad did have magic and only used it for heating up coffee, it hardly seemed something a heartless monster would do.

Right?

[number5theboy]

Hello :3 Thank u for working so hard on your gifsets, please take your time producing your quality content 🥺 I don't really have a Tua related ask to send in askskskd but I'm down to read abt Five at all times so there's that. So here goes: Your thoughts on Five and Reginald and the nature of their relationship? Thank you <3

Aaahhhh thank you, you are so sweet!! And I’m actually working on a deeper dive into the relationship between Reginald and Five, especially looking at the bar scene, because it fascinates me, but I keep getting distracted, but it’s coming, I promise.

In the meanwhile, a more general overview. The thing about Five and Reginald is that Five has a fundamentally different relationship to his father from his siblings. His siblings can all safely and squarely point at Reginald as a) being the worst thing that has ever happened to them and b) the one responsible for ruining their individual lives. For Five however a) he has the apocalypse which is just clearly worse than the academy life (I’m not trying to say that the academy life didn’t scar the other siblings for life or comparing trauma, I’m just saying that however bad the academy was, at least they had food and alive human company) and he himself qualifies the Handler as being worse than Reginald (not to speak of the fact that his childhood lies back forty-five years, those are distant, distant memories, distorted by decades of monotonous apocalypse life and some very busy working years), and b) Reginald is demonstrably not responsible for ruining Five’s life - Five is, and he knows it. It’s the ‘I told you so’-theme. I’ve seen people blame Five ending up in the apocalypse squarely on Reginald, and while there is something to be said about upbringing and how Reginald dealt with Five’s more rebellious personality, in that moment, the agency is all with Five, Reginald didn’t really do anything wrong. He told Five that he shouldn’t try to time travel and told him exactly why (impossible to foresee the effects it could have on his body and his mind), and Five disregarded that and did it anyway.

So essentially, Reginald is not the villain figure to Five that he is to all of his brothers and sisters. Five does what none of his siblings do: he underestimates Reginald, underestimates his cruelty and ruthlessness, and does so massively. It is a very nice and deliberate touch of having the sibling that spent the least time with Reginald be the one who turned out most like him, while at the same time having Five be the sibling that managed to move past Reginald the most. I’m not saying he’s unaffected by Reginald - he clearly isn’t - and he definitely suffered the same abuse as a kid, but he is the one for whom it is the least defining. It is both explicitly said in the show (S1E6 “Who cares if dad messed us up? Are we gonna let that define us?”) and metaphorically, in the fact that Five is the only Hargreeves who is not technically a Hargreeves. I know we keep tagging him as ‘Five Hargreeves’ for organisational reasons here, but that’s not actually his name. Five is ‘Number Five’, he is never referred to with Hargreeves as his last name, like his siblings are. He has made a name of his own, quite literally, by taking the number assigned to his existence as an experiment and becoming more than that, a legend in something that is completely apart from what his father intended. Five is very detached from Reginald as an actual being. It has been so long for him, so much has happened in-between, that he approaches him with a certain kind of distance, as a potentially very valuable source of information, having discarded (or maybe the memory has just faded), the things Reginald did to him, to his siblings. He underestimates Reginald, and he underestimates the severity of the effect his abuse had on his comparatively much younger siblings, which is, in the end, why they end up in a 2019 where cold, hard Reginald has rejected even the idea of their existence.

As for Reginald’s view of Five, it’s a bit more difficult to interpret because we just see less of him, and know less about his personality and even less about his true intentions. We see little of their relationship in Season 1, and I think Five did comparatively fine under Reginald from what we see. He is naturally curious and willing to push his powers to test his limits, but also the one most ready to openly talk back to Reginald, which seems to faze Reginald little, indicating that it was a regular occurrence. During the fateful breakfast, Reginald doesn’t even bother looking at Five arguing for his right to time travel, until the moment that Five runs out and openly, directly defies him, and it would be the very first and very last defiance. This tells us very little, which is why I find Reginald’s reaction to the Five we know even though he doesn’t know him in Season 2 so very, very fascinating, incidentally the same thing Reginald finds Five. There is a universe in difference between Reginald not sparing Five a glance at the breakfast table and them having a discussion on even terrain in the tiki bar. I’m not going to delve too deep into the scene because that’s for the post I’m working on, but I think, for the first time in the show, Reginald looks at Five and sees someone to take seriously. I’ve seen people suggest that Reginald was playing Five during that scene, that it was all an act, but I personally think that that interpretation makes that scene so much less interesting from a character perspective. Reginald entertains Five’s ideas, he takes him in earnest, and he seems genuinely sorry that he can’t help out. I don’t believe Reginald walked out of that bar with a bad opinion of Five. For a moment there, we see a glimpse of how Reginald acts with someone he gives at least basic human decency, and maybe even something that approaches respect, to. It doesn’t break Five’s illusion that Reginald isn’t the worst thing in the world, a sense of false security that makes the plot twist at the end of the season probably most shocking to him, because I think he never would have thought of Reginald just replacing them.

There is a very intriguing dynamic between Five and Reginald, one that lives less in extremes than it does for the other siblings. I think the point of this entire ramble is that Five and Reginald don’t dislike each other, and it makes for a very fascinating relationship where everything is open for the future, where this dynamic can develop further in narratively interesting and relevant ways. Five has enough distance from his abusive childhood (which, again, is not me saying that he has no repercussions from that, just that he has suffered different trauma and abuse on top of that and, let’s be real here, never had the opportunity to work through any of it) that he can approach Reginald different than his siblings, who are still very much and more acutely hurting, and this different approach allows him to get through to Reginald on a more personal, honest level than we have seen a sibling do before.

[magniloquent-raven]

for fluff: "one more chapter" or "there's enough room for both of us"

it’s been 84 years............ but here u go lmao tysm for the prompts!!!!!! i used both!

CW for some brief suicidal ideation, just in case. it’s v mild but pls be careful yall (i know, this fic was supposed to be fluffy 😅)

posted on ao3

------

Billy’s life had changed a lot in the past two years. 

So much that some days he barely recognizes himself in the mirror. The scars, the state of his hair—which he hasn’t cut since last summer and generally just throws back for convenience’ sake—the stubble he doesn’t bother with most days. Small things, in the grander scheme of what’s different about his life, but it adds up.

And it’s Friday night, he’s curled up at home, and perfectly content to be there. 

There’s a steaming mug of cider on the coffee table (a scratched-up old thing that Hop left him when he officially handed off ownership of his trailer to Billy), and wind rattling the windows, and Max is asleep in the next room. It’s...cozy. 

El stopped by earlier that afternoon, Max in tow, demanding Billy let them stay because Mike was being a dick or a DnD campaign was going on too long and El’s character died a while back so she was bored, or...something. Possibly Mike was being a dick about her character being dead. Max kept chiming in with her own two cents worth but it really just made the whole thing harder to follow.

But it didn’t really matter why they stopped by, they’re always coming up with reasons to invade his living room and eat all his food and nag him about teaching them how to do fancy braids. And Max usually wanders off to nap in his room when El starts asking Billy to read to her.

Which is what he’s doing now. 

Last month he read her Jane Eyre (her idea). A week ago they started The Hobbit. 

It’s been slow going, considering how often El interrupts to ask questions, and every time there’s a song they have the same argument about him not actually singing, but they’re making progress. 

He’s reading through the weird goblin song as monotone as possible just so he can laugh at El’s disgruntled scrunchy face, and putting up with her poking his thigh with her toes when he rolls his eyes at her, and honestly having the time of his fucking life, because, yeah, saying things have changed in the past two years is the understatement of the decade.

When he gets to the end of Over Hill and Under Hill and closes the book she gasps dramatically, sitting up and pulling the ugly orange throw blanket (gift from Mrs. Byers) she’d been snuggled up in tighter around her shoulders.

“Billy, no!” 

He drops the book in his lap and raises his eyebrows at her. “It’s the end of the chapter.”

“No.”

“Yeah, it definitely is.”

El frowns at him, her whole face going pinched. “But you can’t stop there.”

It’s moments like this that almost make Billy forget she can kill people with her brain. Moments when she just looks like a kid, all wrapped up in her favourite blanket and pouting. 

And it’s like she knows that’s his goddamn kryptonite. Because those moments also remind him that she deserves this. More than anyone he knows, she deserves all the childish crap she wants, and more. It won’t ever replace the childhood that was taken from her, but it’s a start.

So, needless to say, Billy has a hard time saying no to her.

He drops his head back against the cushion behind him, staring at the ceiling for a moment—pretending to contemplate, while she glowers at him—and sighs loudly. 

“One more chapter.” 

She beams.

They’re only a few pages into Riddles in the Dark when a car pulls up, and Billy doesn’t even have time to put the book down before the front door bursts open. 

“El! Will thought he—is that The Hobbit?” Dustin comes to an abrupt halt two paces into the room, blinking at the book in Billy’s hands. All his little friends nearly collide with his back, and there’s suddenly a gaggle of obnoxious teenagers huddled in Billy’s doorway. 

“Who cares,” Lucas scoffs, pushing him out of the way so he, Wheeler, and Will, can shuffle the rest of the way inside. “Get out of the way!”

Billy is still trying to figure out what the fuck’s even happening when Steve goddamn Harrington walks in behind his pack of brats. Because of course he was the one who drove them here. Him being a fine upstanding citizen and all that. With nothing better to do, apparently. (Not that Billy has room to judge anymore.)

Suddenly the bickering kids are mostly background noise. Billy always did have a hard time concentrating on anything else when Steve’s in the room. Especially when he’s looking like that, warm brown eyes lit up with interest, and the corner of his mouth pulling upwards in a half-smile. His cheeks are pink from the chill outside, his hair a mess from the wind, and locking eyes with him makes Billy’s heart pound. 

They’ve been on good terms these past few months and it’s a special kind of torture that Billy wouldn’t give up for the fucking world.

But he doesn’t get to enjoy the view for long because—

“—the Mind Flayer might be back!”

Billy stiffens. “What?” He glances at El. She’s sitting up straight now, her eyes dark, expression closed off. 

Mike sighs irritably. “Weren’t you listening? Will thinks he might have sensed the Mind Flayer, so we needed to make sure El’s okay.” He crosses his arms, glaring at Billy. “Because the stupid thing wants her dead, remember?”

“Wheeler,” Steve hisses, and smacks the kid’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Billy grits his teeth, cold fingers trailing down his spine. “I remember.” 

The room is silent for several agonizing seconds, the kids all exchanging glances. Until Billy’s bedroom door opens and Max shuffles out, rubbing her eyes. 

“What’s everyone doing here?” 

~~

They’d all been hanging out at Steve’s when Will had a bad feeling. The same kind of prickling bone-deep chill he’d gotten two summers ago. Needless to say, ignoring it until people started dying didn’t seem like the way to go this time, hence the home invasion.

Which had been Steve’s idea, apparently. Or. His initial reaction had been to blurt out does this mean Billy’s possessed again, and it had spiraled from there. To Mike freaking out about El not being safe because she was here, to Lucas reminding him that Billy had only gotten the better of her when she didn’t have powers, to Dustin yelling about checking in with her either way because she might have The Facts. 

And so they’d broken a couple traffic laws to get here.

Billy suspects Steve feels guilty about suggesting he might be possessed, because he got very awkward when it was brought up. And he stepped in several times when Wheeler and Sinclair’s interrogation got a little too intense (there were threats of hot pokers involved).

It should have felt condescending—Billy’s a grown-ass adult, he doesn’t need someone defending him from lanky teenagers—but he can’t help feeling a little warm when it’s Steve coming to his defense. 

The discussion overall is a mess. El doesn’t have any answers, Billy hasn’t felt anything odd lately, and the lack of anything to go on beyond Will having a momentary freakout is putting everyone on edge. 

Max, who squished herself onto the couch between Billy and El, cuts through the cyclical arguing after the third dramatic eye-roll from Mike. “Guys, can you cool it for a second. We’re getting nowhere.” Her protest is punctuated by a yawn, which makes El giggle. 

“She’s right,” Steve sighs, mussing with his hair absentmindedly. “Billy and El are fine, everyone’s fine, we should all get some sleep.”

“Dude, are you sure you’re good to drive?” Dustin asks, squinting appraisingly at Steve. It’s a fair question, it’s late and Steve looks like he’s about to keel over, but Billy’s not sure he likes where this is going.

“Who said anything about driving?” Max snorts, glancing at Billy. 

Damnit Max.

“Is there even space for everyone here? This place is tiny.”

“Fuck you, Wheeler, not all of us can live in goddamn mansions.”

The kid opens his mouth to retort, bristling with indignation, but Will interjects, stuttering a little in his haste, “I, um, I’d feel a little safer if everyone, you know, stayed in one place? At least for tonight?”

And that pretty much settles it. 

Once everyone mumbles their (in some cases reluctant) agreement, El crows “Sleepover!” and drags Max off to find spare blankets, leaving Billy sitting on the couch alone and wondering where the hell Steve is gonna sleep. For...no particular reason...other than…

Well.

It’s not like Mike was wrong, the trailer wasn’t built to house six teenagers and two twenty-somethings. Most of them are going to end up squished on the living room floor, and Max and El already called dibs on the couch, and...well, unless Steve wants to crash in the fucking kitchen there really isn’t anywhere else for him to go other than Billy’s room. He doesn’t even have a goddamn tub the guy could curl up in. 

And just because he’s wanted Steve Harrington in his bed since minute one, doesn’t mean he wants it right now. Not like this. 

Because like this he has to deal with Max’s side-eye, and El’s knowing look (the girl has been in his head, she literally knows everything about him), and Will’s weird wide-eyed interest, and worst of all, Steve not doing this because he wants to. 

In fact, judging by the way he blanches when Max suggests it, Billy’s room is the last place he’d like to be. Which is not really something Billy ever really wanted hard proof of, thanks. 

He’s dealt with enough in his life, he didn’t need to know exactly how repulsive Steve finds the idea of sleeping in the same room as him. 

“You’re welcome to sleep in your goddamn car if my floor isn’t good enough for you, Harrington,” he bites out, probably harsher than was warranted. 

Steve blinks at him, mouth falling open, eyebrows raised. 

“Oh my god, it’s too cold to sleep outside, Billy,” Max says, rolling her eyes. “Stop being such a dick.”

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Figure your shit out, I’m going to bed.” 

The silence he leaves behind is tense and awkward. 

He’s been laying in bed staring at the ceiling, moping and berating himself, for about ten minutes when the door creaks open.

“Hey, uh,” Steve’s voice is soft, uncertain, and Billy feels like even more of an asshole for snapping at him. “I’m just...gonna...crash on the floor. Um. Good night.”

This is punishment isn’t it. For being such a douche for so long. Now he gets to try and fall asleep knowing Steve fucking Harrington is laying nearby, sleepy and warm and out of reach. He listens to Steve shuffle around, getting situated, laying out blankets and trying to find a soft bit of carpet to lay on. Has to bite his tongue to keep from saying something stupid. Like offering up his bed. Or poking fun at how much Steve sighs when he’s getting comfortable (Because it’s dumb, not cute. Definitely not cute.).

It’s unclear how long they lay there in the dark, Billy watching moonlight cast the outlines of skeletal trees across the wall, listening to Steve’s quiet breathing to remind himself he’s not alone. That the shadows are just shadows and there’s no reason to be tense and sweating and—

Billy’s pretty sure it’s been long enough that Steve should be asleep, considering how tired he looked, so he tosses his blanket off and swipes the pack of cigarettes off his bedside table, hoping to god the floor doesn’t creak when he pads across the room. There’s no noise coming from the other room, so either the kids are asleep too or a miracle has occurred and they’re all just being really quiet. 

He slips out the side door, and takes a breath. The lake is too still, despite the wind. No self-respecting body of water doesn’t have waves. But it’s pretty enough, he supposes. Enough to make for a decent view while he smokes a cigarette.

Takes a couple tries to light up. His hands aren’t what they used to be, especially in the cold. Holding off a thirty-foot meat puppet bare-handed does that to a person, tears shit up that doesn’t heal right afterwards.

He’s about halfway through his cig when Steve joins him. Billy’s shoulders stiffen at the sound of footsteps, and he doesn’t relax at all when he realizes who it is. 

“Hey.”

Out of the corner of his eye Billy watches Steve lean against the porch railing beside him. He takes another drag before he looks over properly, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Billy raises his eyebrows. Gestures with his cigarette and turns away again. “No shit.”

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him, and he resolutely ignores it. Stares out at the water and flicks cigarette ash over the railing. The wind picks up again and cuts through his thin shirt. Should’ve grabbed a fucking sweater. Not because the cold bothers him at all, but...well, because it doesn’t anymore.

He shivers when a completely-unrelated-to-the-weather chill runs down his spine.

“Soo…” Steve fidgets, and trails off awkwardly, his nonchalance painfully fake.

The corner of Billy’s mouth twitches, and he raises his cigarette to his lips, a flimsy excuse to hide his smile. 

“Did, uh. Did El choose the book, or…?”

He chokes on a mouthful of smoke. Doc Owens did tell him he shouldn’t have taken up smoking again. Though he was probably more concerned about Billy’s scarred lungs and than Steve Harrington-related hazards. 

Coughing definitely does hurt a lot more than it used to though. 

He flinches when Steve touches his shoulder, pats it, rubs a little—trying to help with the coughing, presumably—making Billy’s heart trip over itself. 

Once he’s no longer wheezing he wipes his eyes, and waves off Steve’s apologies, hoping the embarrassed flush on his cheeks isn’t too visible in the dim light. 

Steve’s hand stays where it is.

For several quiet moments Billy waits for him to withdraw but he doesn’t, and Billy finally meets his eyes. Which was probably a mistake. His heart skips again. He’s still not used to Steve looking at him like that. Soft and wide-eyed and concerned and…

God, he’s so fucking beautiful. Billy used to dream about getting this close without needing pretense, without having to pretend, getting to bask in the warmth coming off him and feel his breath on his skin and see something other than indifference—or worse, the hatred that came later—looking back at him. What he has now is...not quite what he wants. It lights him up but leaves him wanting. 

Another gust of wind makes a mess of Steve’s hair, locks falling into his eyes and sticking up in all directions, and Billy itches. Clenches his fist to stop himself from fixing it.

“Her dweeby little friends kept talking about it, and she couldn’t get through it herself. So...” Billy trails off, scratching his cheek and glancing away. “I may have had a copy laying around.”

Steve’s hand finally leaves its perch on his shoulder—both a disappointment and a relief—to brush the stray locks of hair out of his face. He grins at Billy, whole face lit up and stupidly pretty even as his fingers get stuck in tangles. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” Billy bites the inside of his cheek. “My mom used to read it to me.” 

It’s easier to talk about her now. Mostly with El, who’s still the only person who knows the full story, but, well, he’s pretty sure at least Max and Steve have guessed the bits they weren’t told. Or, hell, maybe El told everyone everything during those months he was out of commission and everyone thought he was dead, and no one’s brought it up to his face because it would be awkward as hell. 

In any case, Steve’s expression softens. 

“Oh,” he says quietly. “So, you and her were pretty close, huh?”

If asked Billy would have blamed the sudden sting of tears in his eyes on the wind. “I guess.” A pause. “Not enough for her to take me when she left,” he mumbles, chewing his thumbnail and frowning out at the lake.

His cigarette hangs between two fingers in his other hand. 

“Billy…”

“Don’t. I’ve heard every condolence in the book, okay. It’s...it’s fine.”

For several long moments the only sounds are the dry rustle of leaves in the wind and Billy’s nail-biting. 

Then Steve slips his fingers around Billy’s wrist and tugs gently. Too surprised to resist, Billy lets him. Lets his hand be pulled away from his face, thumb pressed to his pulsepoint, lets him hold on for a beat longer than necessary before letting go. And Billy stares at him the whole time, lips parted, shoulders tense, waiting to see what Steve will do next.

What he does next is smile a little sad, and tilt his head. “It’s a bad habit, you know. Biting your nails.” 

“I don’t have any other kind of habit.”

“Hm,” Steve hums, “I don’t think that’s true.” 

Which is a weird thing to say, and a weird thing to get emotional over, and yet Billy kind of feels like he’s been punched in the chest.

He rubs at the knotted scar tissue that spiderwebs across his whole torso, and can’t help but wonder—not for the first time—if Steve’s perception of him might be a little blinded by the one good thing he’s ever done. He’s tried to be better since then, atone a little, but Steve’s confidence in him still feels unearned.

And all the work he’s put into getting his shit together might all be for nothing anyways, if some fucking slime monster decides to crawl down his throat again. If Will’s right and that thing is back...for all he knows the thing has it out for him too, after the shit he pulled at Starcourt. He thought he’d end up dead, he wasn’t exactly worried about making himself a target in the long run. 

But now...

Billy exhales slowly through his nose, eyes falling shut for a moment before he grits out, “I can’t do it again.” Steve blinks at him, nonplussed. “This,” he taps his scars, “The fucking. Mind Flayer bullshit. I can’t.”

“You…” Steve folds his arms across his stomach, hands clutching his elbows. It’s a nervous tic that makes Billy ache. Always makes his heart clench, but tonight that gets lost in the black hole of anxiety already twisting up his insides  “You won’t have to, I—we’ll protect you. If we stick together—”

“It’s not a guarantee.”

“No, but—”

“We don’t know anything about this alien shit, for all we know I was never really free of it, and—I just—promise you won’t let it use me again,” Billy’s voice breaks, and he clenches his jaw to try and hold it all back, the taste of bile in the back of his throat, the crushing weight of existential panic pressing in. 

Steve’s eyes widen, “What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean. Crash another car into me. Let your ex shoot me in the fucking head. I don’t care how, I need you to stop me.” He needs to understand, Billy’s eyes bore into him, willing him to understand.

But he shakes his head, face twisted up with horror, “I don’t think I can do that.”

Billy takes a step towards him, desperation bleeding into his voice, “Steve.” He blinks back tears. “Please.” 

“Don’t—” Steve looks away, curling in on himself, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what, ask you to perform a public fucking service?” Billy spits, eyes stinging, face burning. He regrets the words once they’re spoken, but there’s no taking them back now. He’s talked with Owens about this sort of shit and he thought he was past it. 

Apparently not.

He deflates. Like a slap in the face, it stops him dead, turns his agonizing back inward where it fucking belongs. Wiping his eyes, he sighs. 

It’s too late to stop the puppy-dog eyes Steve’s giving him now though. The unreserved sadness in the way he’s looking at Billy is so overwhelming it’s almost palpable. “Is that really how you feel?”

Is it? He’s not sure anymore. It was for a long time. Long enough that he couldn’t remember feeling any other kind of way until El reminded him. But now…

He shrugs. “It’s...complicated. I—ah, shit!” His hand jerks, and the cigarette he’d been holding falls to the ground. That never used to hurt so fucking much. “Damn thing burnt me.” 

He sucks on the stinging knuckle, waiting for the pain to subside, tasting salt and ash, and looks back up at Steve.

They lock eyes.

Steve’s expression has closed off, his gaze still heavy, but with something else, sliding down Billy’s face with an intensity Billy’s not quite sure what to make of. He’s struck dumb by the attention (not something he usually has a problem handling), lips still wrapped around his finger but his mouth has gone slack.

It feels like a static shock, one crackling jolt of a moment, something sharp lancing through him, and then it’s over. Steve’s blinking, glancing away. Billy’s hand falls to his side. It would be like it never happened except he still feels charged, pent up, heart full to bursting and stomach in knots. 

Billy sighs, and rubs his eyes. “Let’s just...go back to bed.”

Wording, Billy. Wording. His cheeks warm a little, but he manages to keep his expression neutral as he turns and heads back inside.

He practically throws himself into his bed, curling up on his side and pulling the blankets around him, back turned to Steve. Sleep seems like a pipe dream at this point, but doing anything other than pretending to get some rest would involve talking to and/or looking at Steve, so. Not an option. 

But after he listens to Steve settle back into his little pile of blankets, the minutes crawl by, and Billy gets twitchy. Wants so badly to move, toss and turn and fidget, and say something, but doesn’t know where to start and doesn’t want to draw Steve’s attention, and—

God, this is so fucking stupid.

Billy rolls over. “Steve.”

“Yeah?” 

The room is silent for a beat. He shuffles around a little and the sheets rustle loudly in the quiet.  

“Would you get up here,” he says suddenly, all at once, demanding, scarcely believing what the fuck is coming out of his mouth. 

“...What?” Steve sounds a little breathless and it makes Billy’s stomach clench.

“Just...there’s enough room for both of us, alright.” Jesus christ. 

The lump of Steve and blankets on the floor doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak, for what seems like an eternity, and Billy’s about to brush it off, turn it into a joke, take it back, something, when—

“Okay.”

Oh.

What?

Oh god, he’s getting up. This is happening. Billy stares at his silhouette, the tense line of his shoulders, his awkward gait, and wonders why he’s agreeing to this if he’s so goddamn uncomfortable. 

Guess the floor is officially less comfortable than being in bed with Billy. Joy.

But then he’s sliding under the covers and Billy forgets to be bitter because his brain is mostly static at this point. White noise and his heartbeat thundering in his ears and the deafening creak of boxspring groaning under unexpected weight.

And Steve’s doing that thing again, sighing, little hums as he wiggles around getting himself situated, and Billy is dying. He thought he was being punished before, but now he’s sure, because this is ridiculous. No grown man should be that adorable. 

By the time he’s gotten himself comfy Billy is about ready to combust. 

It doesn’t help that he’s decided to lay down extremely close and facing Billy. It’s so intimate it hurts.

“Do you think you’ll actually sleep?”

Billy shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe.” He tries to make it sound more casual than it is. Like it’s a choice and not the sad fact that he’s too fucking anxious to relax. 

Seems he’s not the only one though, Steve keeps fidgeting, his face doing something weird Billy can’t quite see in the gloom. But he doesn’t have to see to recognize Steve’s tics.

“Spit it out,” Billy sighs.

“What did you mean. When you said it’s complicated?” Steve asks softly.

Ah.

“You really wanna get into this?” He sure doesn’t, but Steve nods and Billy’s fucking weak when it comes to giving Steve what he wants. “I meant that...I...used to feel like that. All the time. It was fucking relentless.” He thinks about rolling onto his back so he won’t have to look at Steve for this, but finds himself stuck, drawn in by the faint starlight reflected in Steve’s eyes. “But nowadays I’ve got...shit to hang on for, I guess. Doesn’t make it all go away, but it makes it easier.”

“Oh.” Steve wriggles a little closer, his hand landing in the space between their pillows. Right next to Billy’s hand. Close enough that he can feel him there, but not quite touching.

He doesn’t say anything else, which Billy’s grateful for. He’s got Doc Owens for the big speeches about how life is worth living, and it’s grating enough getting them from someone who’s literal job is to say that kind of shit. 

It helps. It does. But he can only handle so much.

Speaking of which.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says quietly. He’s keeping his hand too still for it to come across as casual, trembling with the effort. If he moved his pinky just a little they’d be touching, and he’s painfully aware of this fact.

“What for?”

“Earlier, when I...I was asking for a lot.”

“Oh.” Steve shifts, the blankets rustling as he shuffles around, but as much as he fidgets, his hand stays where it is. “Billy...I don’t want you to have to go through that again, but…”

Billy, on an impulse—with a feeling somewhat akin to stepping off a ledge without a parachute—hooks his pinky over Steve’s. In the dark he hears a soft intake of breath, can just barely make out the way Steve’s mouth falls open, moonlight casting shadows when his tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

“I know. It wasn’t fair to—”

“No, no,” Steve flips his palm upward and laces their fingers together, squeezing Billy’s hand. “It’s not that. You have every right to be scared, and...look, this whole thing is batshit crazy, none of us know how to deal with it.” 

Billy runs his thumb along the length of Steve’s index finger, marvelling at the contact, and the way his pulse flutters when the gesture is returned. It takes him a second to find his voice, “True, but you’ve never asked me to mercy kill you.”

Steve exhales, the ghost of a laugh, and it warms the back of Billy’s hand. He shivers, his whole arm tingling. “Billy, I haven’t gone through half the shit you have.” A pause. “I want to help. Anything you need, just...not that.” 

Anything. It catches in Billy’s throat, stops his heart for just a second, reminds him that they’re inches apart, in bed together. For the second time tonight he feels like he’s been punched in the sternum, and he goes rigid, relaxing only minutely when Steve squeezes his hand again.

“Careful, pretty boy. Saying shit like that might give a guy ideas,” he murmurs, gaze searching, wandering Steve’s face, the shadows cast by the soft fall of hair across his forehead.

“Oh yeah?” Steve pulls their clasped hands to his chest. His heart is racing, but his voice is steady, “Well, have enough ideas with no follow-through and a guy might think you’re all talk.”

Billy’s breath catches. The world stops. “You...you don’t want me to follow through.” 

The reality of the situation hits him like a train. Flirting is one thing, he’s always had a hard time keeping his mouth shut around Steve, but this is something he’d only ever regretted letting himself imagine because he knew he’d never have it. And now that it’s within reach...

“See, the thing is…” Steve slides a little closer. His knee brushes Billy’s thigh. “I really, really do.”

“I—” his voice breaks, mouth dry, throat closing up as he tries to swallow past the lump making it hard to breathe. 

“Billy,” Steve whispers, a hot puff of air against Billy’s lips. “Please.”

Fuck.

He surges forward—hard enough that their teeth click together—and his mouth muffles Steve’s gasp. The hand not cradled against Steve’s chest comes up to touch his cheek, fingertips caressing his jaw, coaxing him closer, sliding back to thread into his hair. 

Steve’s lips are plush and warm against his, curved into a smile that leaves Billy tingling, dizzy and drunk on sensations. The way his mouth tastes, the softness of his skin under Billy’s scarred palm, the way his heart twists when Steve reaches out to touch his chest.

He pulls back, and rests his forehead against Steve’s. His eyes stay shut and he just breathes. Soaks up the moment. 

“God,” Steve sighs, nuzzling their noses together. “Always knew you’d be good at that.”

“Yeah?” Billy asks quietly, fiddling with the stray locks of hair behind Steve’s ear. He’s feeling...raw. Vulnerable. It’s a fragile state of being, one wrong word away from breaking. Or a few right words away from fucking bliss, but that never seems to be how it goes for him. 

“Yeah, even when we didn’t like each other I wondered. Annoyed the hell outta me.”

“Steve…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully, “I always liked you.”  If his heart wasn’t already racing, it sure would be now. He braces himself for the worst.

But it doesn’t come. There’s a pause. Steve’s fingers curl into the front of his shirt. “Oh.” He presses a chaste kiss to Billy’s lips, lingering, before chuckling lightly. “That explains a lot actually.”

Billy’s cheeks burn. Yeah, he supposes it would. “You’re not...freaked out?” he ventures, hesitant. 

“Mm, nope.” He reaches up, brushes a stray curl out of Billy’s face. “Definitely okay with this.”

I love you.

The thought doesn’t shock him but the desire to say it out loud does. The way it lodges itself in his throat and sticks. He hasn’t said it to anyone—hasn’t wanted to say it to anyone—since his mother left. The precedent is intimidating, but…

Steve smells like honey and clean air, laying in bed with Billy, warm and pliant next to him tracing patterns in Billy’s scars, his gaze is fond, his smile is soft, and...and Billy’s in love.

He swallows. Pushes it down for now. 

He kisses Steve again. Slower. A gentle press of mouths, and another. Takes his time deepening it, teasing with his tongue. He waits for Steve to pull away, to decide that this thing is one thing too far, but it never happens. Steve lets him escalate, and gives as good as he gets. 

They’re both breathless and flushed and Billy’s riding high on the bubbling warmth in his chest, lightheaded from it. He slides his leg over Steve’s, straddling his thigh, pressing down, seeking friction. 

He shifts, rocking forward a little, and Steve moans, low and deep right in Billy’s ear.

They both freeze. Steve’s breath coming in ragged little bursts against the side of Billy’s face. 

“Pretty boy, as much as I’d love to hear more of that, no one else in the house does.”

“Jesus christ.”

“No need to bring him into it.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughs and buries his face in Billy’s shoulder. “Just give me a minute.”

“Aw, I get you all riled up, baby?” 

Steve slides a hand down, down, and palms Billy’s cock, drawing a short gasp from him. “Yes.”

They stay entangled the rest of the night, dozing in and out of consciousness, Steve pressing the occasional sleepy kiss to Billy’s collarbone. And...Billy’s not sure what will happen after tonight, but he knows it’ll be easier to deal with if he gets to keep this. Whatever this is. He doesn’t have the heart to ask, not yet, but for the first time in a while, he has hope.

[jae-canikeepyou]

| smitten | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: au + fluff + idol!jaehyun & solo artist!yn

a/n: hnngg gosh i loved writing this request ;-; i combined this too!! it might not be well-written but i’m pretty sure my fluttery jeelings hit me so hard haha hope you all enjoy reading loves! ~j.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

aggravating clashes of utensils fell on the wooden floor, the impact squeezed chests and jolted the life out of those who heard it. they were finally having the relaxation they waited for until the corners of their eyes followed the fallen items to the source of noise. jaehyun leaning forward against at the kitchen counter; legs about to give in with his phone in hand.

jungwoo approached him, worried that fatigue might’ve taken over the guy. he picked up the kitchen wares and towels, placing them back where they were meant to be. “hyung, are you alright?” he touched his friend’s forehead since his ears were prominent red, hot to the touch. “you’re not yourself since you woke up. got anything to say?”

jaehyun could only press his lips like he tasted his own blood. no words came out of him and this only heightened everyone’s curiosity. he walked back to where the others were and put his phone on the table. how could he explain this news to them without letting them start to tease? they already teased him last christmas’ performance with naeun. he was sure they’d do the same for this one. and as far as he was concerned, his heart continued to drum heavily that he could feel its pulse against his skin.

should i tell them? he asked himself.

“nothing.” his glanced quickly. what he missed seeing were the sly smirks that began to spread around his friends’ faces.

johnny started to tease, a satisfied smile growing where it showed his pearly whites. “tell me it’s what i think it is.” because of this phrase it made jaehyun’s ears turned more red and gave johnny the impression knowing he hit might’ve the bullseye, right at the center. “no way, so it is!” he exclaimed repeatedly and the younger one hoped he would shut it.

their cheers went from one to another and at that moment he knew they shared the same brain cell. “ha? no. stop assuming, john.” jaehyun gulped from his cup, swallowing it like it was bottom’s up. he kept it by his lips so it wouldn’t reveal his actual feelings.

“stop denying.” yuta propped his chin for a better position. “your ears gave it away.” if it was yuta, everyone knew they were automatically knocked out in the battle. no one could stand a chance against his words or actions.

“damn it! don’t point out my ears!” jaehyun groaned and accepted defeat by slumping on the table. he unlocked his phone then sliding it across the furniture.

they crowded upon the device and scrolled to see what nearly made the dude fall on his knees. it was only one word and that was enough to lit the light bulbs floating on top of the others’ heads. “oh well what’s the tea?” taeil asked, clearly pretending to be innocent since they were all interested now that jaehyun reacted sooner than expected.

mark shoved spoonfuls of cereal before seeing the entire digital conversation with their manager, he grumbled and hit johnny continuously as he reacted with his mouth full. “you‘re doing a duet with y/n?!” he asked that he nearly spat milk everywhere.

jaehyun exhaled, brushing back the strands of his hair and wore his headband. “yeah. the agency told me to collab a cover with her and said we start in two days.”

“you don’t sound excited. you nervous?” taeil opened a bag of granola bars and laid them at the center, soon devouring them like it were the last ones.

“up until now we’ve only collabed with boy groups.” he showed them the rehearsal pictures from that time. his shaky hands were proof that he was probably nervous.

johnny poked the guy’s chest to come back to reality. “shouldn’t you be less worried? she’s from the same label as ours.” his laughs have made all of them giggle.

the dimple boy wasn’t nervous or worried, it was incomparable to a grain of sand nor those two words were in his dictionary. he was perfectly fine with practicing with you. however, have his friends forgotten about what they did to him during pre-debut days?

he recalled the time you both first met, and that became the most-discussed topic within nct. it spread to all like wildfires. how that started was during trainee life. popularity votes were common and each had to choose the first place female trainee votes by male trainees and vice versa. the results came out, you and jaehyun ranked first. they made you both stand next to each other and this was when it got messy.

everyone tends to pair the firsts, so they began by teasing because they believed this was where the “developing” start. jaehyun knew what they did was a natural thing to do, all have experienced the hot seat and the endless snickers. if there was anything jaehyun would like to change in his body, it has to be his ears. they turned red the moment the ooh’s and yeee’s echoed the rehearsal studio. of course he did like you, but it was just like every person in the agency did.

you were a new artist who debuted under the same label as the said group; doing mostly of your orginals, small ost’s and covers. they knew you. in fact during trainee days, they’ve heard your name countless of times as there were praises towards your angelic vocals and coaches would use you as an example. nct 127 never heard anything from you since they debuted, but knew you were still in the label.

“it’s been years, hasn’t it?” jungwoo turned the television on. “from what i know, that was the last voting we ever did.”

wait what? jaehyun stepped out of his dazed mind and couldn’t believe what he was hearing. they didn’t forget? he looked at his friends as they light up in realisation.

taeil popped a snack in his mouth, entertained with today’s topic. “ah! right right! we did vote! y/n was voted as the first once!”

johnny waved his palms and shook in excitement now that the memory from years ago was brought back. “man, i’ll hug whoever came up with this idea. they’re smart. we should make them do a throwback picture too.” he said as he quickly dove into the deeper files of his laptop to look for pictures for proof.

jaehyun rubbed his face in annoyance that they remembered that time. his phone vibrated as it indicated a new message from an unknown number on the lockscreen. he was about to reach it when yuta’s reflexes were faster.. always* faster; swiftly taking it like they were carkeys. yuta loved teasing and scaring the life out of his friends. among them he loved seeing jaehyun fluster the most.

he put the phone in front of jaehyun and made the lad think he was showing the message to him. this was proven false when the screen unlocked from the face i.d., and yuta laughed devilishly, typing away in a jiffy, which jaehyun panicked and tried to take the phone back.

“dude let me just press ‘send’!” yuta screamed, his smooth movements were impossible for the affected boy to catch up to.

“what were you typing?” jaehyun got hold of the phone and stared at the screen, his eyes adjusting to the fonts within the message bubble.

[16:08] from unknown: hyemin, this is y/n. stop changing your phone #! are u even my manager why did you say i agreed? :/

[16:09] from unknown: oh whatever i’m calling you rn >:(

he jogged out of the dorm when it began to vibrate crazily, your digits calling him. his friends’ yells were soon muffled to a silence as the door behind him clicked to a close. he pressed the green button to answer. “hello?” his voice greeted.

a hitched breath followed by a gasp heard from the other line. he let out a low chuckle, making you more nervous than usual because you recognised the owner of the voice and you hadn’t talked with him since his group debuted.

he backed himself into the door, one hands in his pockets whilst he waited for the caller’s response. soft thuds hit the door and he felt it often the more the whispers behind the wooden partition. his friends were indeed listening, actually, they were eavesdropping.

“j-jaehyun?” you closed your eyes, then cursing at yourself for being too careless and straight-forward with your actions.

“hyun. jae.” he chuckled. uh-huh. did he just tease you? “i’m kidding. it’s jaehyun. you thought this number was hyemin’s?” he laughed over the phone.

oh boy, he was just as you remembered him to be. a humble person who caused a positive uproar within the walls of the girls’ rehearsal room. co-trainees of yours always mentioned his name; saying he was kind and a gentleman. you never saw him until you both stood in front of everyone as firsts. “i- uh.. sorry, a phone number was anonymously given to me. manager hyemin’s been playing pranks and..”

“i see, it’s alright y/n. don’t pressure too much because of this. i’ll see you soon though?” his voice pitched higher as if he was interested and looked forward to the duet. maybe a lot more higher when he called you by your name.

“mhm, yeah.” your toes curled from feeling your chest experience a good panic. “see you.”

jaehyun didn’t know why he nodded despite the short conversation being a phone call. he said a gentle goodbye and once you did too, he ended the call, swinging the door open and caused the boys to fall to the floor like dominos. “i’m not helping a pile of idiots. you did this to yourselves.” he singsonged and stuck out his tongue and prepared to take his leave.

the monotonous beeps ringing through the phone somehow calmed the waves of your uncontrollable heart beats. you laid on your bed defeatedly, face down to the pillow. the entire noise of your apartment was nothing but the sound of your drumming heart, pulsing against your flesh and you could feel it in your veins. “so what they (co-trainees) said is true.. jaehyun does make you feel things.”

little did you know, he was on the same boat.

whether or not it was from the results of being the firsts from the trainees’ votes or that he began noticing your presence often in the company building at every recording schedule of nct’s, jaehyun was shocked at himself that he couldn’t concentrate at all. you, a girl super laid back during trainee life blossomed to be a professional artist everyone came to adore. maybe including him too.

the venue you both were told to go was perfect for the duet cover. staff members already prepared two instruments and were placed at one corner with the wall of plants. jaehyun sat at the table, earphones plugged into his ears as his head matched with the rhythms of the song. he then caught sight of you approaching him and removed one of the buds. “hi.” he stood to pull out a chair, a smile creeping on both of your lips. “last listen before we start?”

“sure.” you took one and looked at him; an ethereal person in casual clothes, boyfriend material worthy. it’s no wonder people called him their first love. and this attire of his probably got you under his spell too.

trying not to sing out loud, you lip-synced the lyrics for the final time and swayed to each word. jaehyun took a good look at you, his eyes forming crescent shapes when he saw how embarrassed you felt— because you were caught by him. it hasn’t been a minute, the staff asked to be on cue and you both head to where the instruments were; a piano and an acoustic guitar.

instinctively, your hands reached for the edge of the piano, it was one you could play. however, jaehyun too, had his hands on it and simultaneously you both retracted. “you want to play the keys?” you hear him asked, immediately nodding at his inquiry.

he let out a nervous chuckle which was followed by his cute, jutted lips. “well i could play the guitar but it’s been ages since i last held one. my strums might sound rusty.”

“no problem.” you twirled on your heels and grabbed the guitar and saw an electronic finger drum pad beside the keyboard, pointing at it as well. “i’ll play these two and we’re good to go.” your giggles had him all feeling fluttery inside and he fought so hard to not be exposed.

he wasn’t going to lie. jaehyun’s heart did skip a beat. you were only doing final tunings for a better sound but the way you looked so dedicated with this field of work, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. sunlight appeared like it was your own emitting aura, almost identical to an angel that was heaven-sent. the light current of wind added to your source of elegance and the plants behind became your world. took him a second or two to fathom out that he was dragged into your beauty.

were you always this gorgeous?

because it has been days since he was told to do a duet with you, sometimes he felt his breaths trying to catch up with his racing beats of his heart. they were lacking behind, so far back that you being there or just sitting.. had him awestruck.

“jaehyun?” you waved small that he twitched in his seat, his thoughts cutting short from your sweet voice. “they’re signalling to test the camera. are you alright with one practice?”

he turned to the staff and said the cue. jaehyun did stretches before placing his hands lightly on the keys. you sat straight to not appear tired as you palm muted the strings, soon harmonising with the sustained chords he played. a duet rendition of say you won’t let go.

the camera panned sideways along its dolly track rail, your eyes followed the lens as you began to set the mood. you took a deep breath before singing.

“i met you in the dark, you lit me up. you made me feel as though, i was enough. we danced the night away, we drank too much. i held your hair back when you were throwing up.”

he was amazed that you quickly brought your hands out for a while to tap the buttons for percussions, each beat matched with the rhythm of his playing.

“then you smiled over your shoulder. for a minute i was stone cold sober..” his baritone followed suit. it was hypnotic that you couldn’t resist to stare at him as dimples subtly reveal themselves on his smooth skin on each word.

jaehyun’s eyes grew at the sweet soulful tone while you sang the verse that he forgot to sing with you at the next sentence. “i pulled you closer to my-” you continued in a harmonised key and later stopped, a giggle bubbling out of you.

his admiration for you was interrupted upon your laugh. the frazzled boy lifted his fingers off the keys, hands clasped together for an apology. “ah, i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright. don’t pressure too much because of this.” you said with assurance. “i get nervous sometimes too.” yeah of course you were. you got to collab with him despite your busy schedules.

the dimples on his cheeks deepened. did you use the same sentence as he did few days ago?

“you looked fine to me.” he licked his lips. “pretty too.” and he mumbled to himself, but you were too occupied with the guitar in your hand that you didn’t hear what he said. “can we start from the top?” clearing his throat, he was glad you didn’t hear it. or else he would be embarrassed.

singing with you was like coffee. jaehyun had this particular, specific impression as he spotted a café prior to coming here. he knew fans loved his voice, a unique baritone that was very prince-like. if he were to reference it, his vocals alone was like americano. people would get addicted to the taste despite it being uncommon in the kpop industry. although they enjoyed it, the staff thought it would be better to include you in the duet.

so you became the sugar to his vocals, a pleasant timbre that was as calming as the rain’s patter. voices perfectly blended together in different ranges, both delicate and careful. you have sung with other artists through covers and orginals, however jaehyun stood out the most in all of those, in which made you think this collab was the one you enjoyed.

[ both harmonising ]

“..and you asked me to stay over i said, i already told you i think that you should get some rest.”

“i knew i loved you then, you'd never know ‘cause i played it cool when i was scared of letting go.”

“i knew i needed you i never showed but i wanna stay with you until we’re grey and old.”

“just say you won't let go, just say you won't let go.”

jaehyun felt giddy inside hearing your voice fit with his. as you both enjoyed each other’s presence during the cover, he could sense that after today, he definitely took a liking for you— but his heart knew him better than he thought.

he fell in love with you on the spot.

—

hours have passed and a total of five takes were recorded, majority of which three of them were slightly messed up because either jaehyun forgot his lines or you needed to be quenched or vice versa. jaehyun fixed his brown outerwear as he observed you from afar, tying a low bun to prevent your hair adding heat from the scorching hot weather. eyes extremely focused on the camera from the second last cover video.

all was finished for the day yet there was half an hour left until you both separate ways. jaehyun decided to buy drinks and got one for you as well.

the table you sat on slightly shook from the impact he did to place the ordered beverages. “i didn’t know what you like, so i got you latte.” he pulled the chair to sit, sliding the cup to you.

“hm, you sure about that?” you raised a brow and appreciated his effort to go out his way for this. “latte’s like my go-to drink. thank you.”

jaehyun kept himself composed, he had to hide his smile behind the cup. it was dying to show. he hoped you didn’t see him. your arms almost meet when he scooted closer to view the video together. the frame was perfectly placed at the center and you couldn’t believe you both sounded well together.

you heard his soft tsk’s, there were small amount of water rolling down his cup from the ice inside. he got up to get extra tissue. as you waited for him, you checked the device and clicked on its previous button. it was a video of him holding a wireless camera lavaliere microphone and with your mind full of curiosity, you played it.

it contained his ending ment and if you listened closely, it was for a vlog you were familiar with, a channel where he documented his daily ‘yuno’ vlogs for his fans. the motion automatically played and he spoke through the wireless mic.

something about this had you rewinding it twice. he was staring off into space as he spoke, his eyes trailing— actually following someone. he gave a little twitch and pout of the lips, that was the same when he forgot to harmonise with you. the wind blew his hair, revealing his dusted pink ears and eyes enlarging the more he followed where you went.

the thought of his reaction caused you to shy around him once he came back and had two desserts in his hands. maybe if the winds answered your prayers to confirm what you saw in the video was true, it could convince you enough.

the said boy handed you the utensils and as you had your first bite, he loved how the café’s lights became your glow, the music became your introduction. heat eventually spread his entire face.

yes, nature heard your calls,

and yes, his heart told him that

he’s so smitten with you.

[tastes-like-ciel]

When do you think Ai first realised he was in love? Like by the end of season 1 Ai and Yusaku were already on friendly terms (that rare soft smile from Yusaku ;w;) but I'm also really fond of the moment they had in ep83. Anyway I just wanna say I love your writing and would love to hear your thoughts!! :D

I think he’s loved Yusaku for a long time, probably since the beginning of the show and even before that? It’s just something that grew the longer he was with Yusaku until it became a “I can’t live without you” sort of thing like it did in S3. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he ends up being named Ai (a name that means “love”), either. Yusaku did, as Ai points out in ep120, carelessly name him, but Ignis and their Origins share a connection. They’re drawn to each other, probably the Ignis more so than the Origins, and we’ve seen canon evidence of this several times. 

(And bear with me here. There’s a lot of stuff concerning Ignis and their Origins I’m talking about to prove a point. haha)

Like with Flame going straight to Takeru (a kid who clearly shows his ineptitude for technology) for help and refuses to go anywhere else but him when no one would blame him if he did. That’s his Origin and he wasn’t going to go anywhere else. He stayed by Takeru, helped him work through some of his issues, befriended him, and they bonded very closely. Takeru spends the first half of S3 kind of depressed and wanting to go home because while he is friends with Yusaku, Flame is gone now and he just wants to go home to the place where he and Flame first met. It’s clear during his final duel with Revolver that he wasn’t over Flame’s death at all.

Then there’s Aqua. She searched for and found Miyu and tried to heal her from the virus keeping her comatose. She didn’t have to and she probably realized beforehand that she couldn’t dismantle the virus herself, but she tried everything she could anyway because that’s her Origin and what kind of partner would she be if she didn’t try everything she could think of to save her? She ends up with Aoi later on, but Aoi was tied to her Miyu and she still wanted to save her.

Windy became corrupted by Lightning and sought out his Origin to murder him. We never actually got a confirmation on whether his Origin is alive or dead, but considering most kids that get hit with a truck in anime don’t live, it’s very possible he did not survive it. However, everyone is free to think what they want about it. My friend has a headcanon about them being alive but wheelchair bound and I personally like that one. Not that he’s lost function of his legs, but him just being alive is good and that makes sense considering the severity of the “accident” Windy caused. But moving on, Windy sought him out when he didn’t have to. Corrupted Windy didn’t want to have the connection with his Origin anymore and tried to sever it the only way he knew how. I imagine if Windy hadn’t been corrupted, he probably would have sought out his Origin to become friends with him because normal Windy seems very, very soft like omg

Then there’s Lightning who just straight-up kidnapped Jin and made him his puppet. He didn’t have to do that because Jin was hospitalized. He wasn’t going to do anything. But Lightning still sought him out because of the connection he shares with Jin and kept him close despite being the major cause of Jin’s PTSD. And even taking away Lightning being an absolute dick while Jin was captive for just a moment, there’s still the fact that he took Jin for no real reason other than as a trophy to say “Hey. I can bond with humans, too. That simulation means nothing to me.”. He wanted him close so their connection wouldn’t eat at him, but not so close that he had to interact with him for real. Lightning makes a lot of excuses, but that’s what I feel is the real reason he took Jin.

Now Earth is socially awkward. He never approached Spectre, which is fair. But when he was cut up under Queen’s supervision, Spectre felt that and was distressed by it and anytime after when he was confronted by something of Earth’s, he felt something. Earlier in S2 during that recap featuring Hanoi (Episode 59), they’re discussing the Ignis and their Origins and Spectre makes the complaint/comment of “But Revolver-sama, no Ignis has come to me.” and while you can argue this is just Spectre questioning why the other Ignis have gone to their Origins and his hasn’t come to him to make capturing one easier, I think Spectre, deep down, really did want to meet his. If Earth wasn’t as socially inept as he is, he probably would have gone to Spectre at some point. Instead, we see the reverse here. We get to see an Origin pining after their Ignis. I don’t believe for a moment that Spectre would have let anything bad happen to Earth after getting him because of their connection. He wanted to meet his Ignis and was even a little jealous that his hadn’t come to him.

But all that to say, Ignis and their Origins share a connection and is why I don’t believe Yusaku naming Ai what he named him was a coincidence. Ignis and their Origins are not the same personality-wise. They each have something the other lacks. Earth has no social skills while Spectre does, Flame is logical and thinks before he acts while Takeru thinks with his heart and acts before thinking, Ai is filled with empathy and is emotional while Yusaku rarely breaks from his monotone and lone facial expression, etc. Ai represents all the feelings of love that Yusaku doesn’t have and is hesitant to reach a hand out to. Yes, Yusaku carelessly named him, but because they share a connection, Yusaku’s choice of name wasn’t lacking in meaning. He even gives a meaning to it later. “To love people.”

In the episode you mentioned (Episode 83), Yusaku talks about the Ignis needing to hide after the fight with Lightning was over because in his words: “As long as Ignis and humans are together, foolish people will try to use you. If that happens, you’ll get dragged into another fight.” Which is some major foreshadowing to his own death, later on, had Ai not chosen to heed the simulations’ warnings or not done them in the first place. He also said “I want you to live.” and I think at the end when the other Ignis were gone and Yusaku was the only one Ai had left, he forgoes heeding that warning of Yusaku’s because he wants to live beside him and feels guilty afterward because Yusaku himself told him this would happen, but Ai wants to believe in the goodwill of humans because he knows and loves such a great one. But Yusaku dying severs the last of his hope and destroys his sanity.

When did Ai first realize, though? Again, I think he always did. He wanted to go to Yusaku and bond with him and he does. He bonds with him so much he can’t bear the thought of a future without him in it. I would think, as far as being in love is concerned, Ai probably realized either sometime in S2 or during his simulation runs. He takes a SOLtis body for himself and creates a human form so he can live among humans and live with Yusaku, but once he finds out how that ends, he sets out to change the future (because that’s something else Yusaku has talked about before) because there’s no one else in the universe he loves more than Yusaku and he can’t bear him dying, even if dying will only make him sad because he knows Yusaku wanted him to live.

But ye djksaFKHf oh gosh thank youuuu ;;u;; I’m happy you enjoy my writing! It’s fun to do. Like I really do prefer writing fluffy stuff that makes my insides want to melt because fluff is good, but writing other stuff is fun, too!

[advocatewrites-blog]

Into the Unknown Part 4 Chapter 4

Into the Unknown

Fandom: Undertale, Coraline (book), Over the Garden Wall, Paranorman, Gravity Falls (season 2)

Characters: Frisk, Norman B., Dipper P., Mabel P., Coraline J., Wirt, Greg, the Cat, the Frog; Sans, Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore,; the Other Mother, the Beast, Agatha P., Bill Cipher, Asriel D., Chara D.,

Pairings: Not the focus. Alphys/Undyne, with mentions of Papyrus/Mettaton, sans/Toriel/Asgore, and Wirt/Sara. Due to the nature of Undertale and the dating segments, there is also interpretable Papyrus/Wirt, Undyne/Mabel, Alphys/Dipper, Napstablook/Norman, Mettaton/Norman, Mettaton/Mabel, Sans/Dipper, Sans/Norman, and Sans/Greg.

Rated a high +K for violence, mild language, horrific elements that may be disturbing to younger readers,  mentions of child abuse and bullying, character death that is sometimes permanent, and mentions of suicide that may be triggering. These elements remain relatively unchanged from their source material, which most all are for children, but discretion is advised nonetheless.

Disclaimer: Undertale was created and owned by Toby Fox. Coraline was created by Neil Gaiman and owned by Bloomsbury and Laika. Over the Garden Wall was created by Patrick McHale and owned by Cartoon Network. Paranorman was created by Sam Fell and Chris Butler and owned by Laika. Gravity Falls was created by Alex Hirsch and owned by Disney. Any other work mentioned or homage are property of their respective owners. This is a fan-made, nonprofit work that only seeks to entertain. Please support the original franchises.

Chapter 4

“OHHH YES! WELCOME BEAUTIES…TO TODAY’S QUIZ SHOW!”

Spotlights engulfed the lab. Two disco balls dropped from the lighting fixtures and engulfed the three into multicolored lights. Confetti fell from somewhere. Dipper knew that he was not going to like whatever happened next.

“OH BOY! I CAN ALREADY TELL IT’S GONNA BE A GREAT SHOW!” said the robot. “EVERYONE GIVE A BIG HAND TO OUR WONDERFUL CONTESTANTS!”

A fake, monotone clapping noise echoed from the robot’s soundboard as more confetti poured onto them.

“NEVER PLAYED BEFORE GORGEOUS? THE RULES ARE SIMPLE. ANSWER CORRECTLY.” said the robot. “OR YOU DIE!!!

Mettaton attacks.

“LET’S START WITH AN EASY ONE!!” said Mettaton. “WHAT’S THE PRIZE FOR ANSWERING CORRECTLY?”

“Uh…” said Dipper. “A new car?”

“THAT IS INCORRECT!!!”

A lightning-bolt shaped bullet shot from Mettaton’s microphone and collided with Dipper’s Soul.

“Are you okay?” Mabel asked.

“I’m fine,” said Dipper. “Not sure how many of those I can take. We’re gonna have to be smart about answering them.”

“Alright,” said Mabel. “Making things up is my specialty!”

“GLAD TO HEAR IT GORGEOUS!” said Mettaton. “HERE’S YOUR PRIZE: WHAT IS THE KING’S FULL NAME?”

Dipper actually remembered that one. Papyrus had said it, Undyne had said it, and the turtle that sold them things had said it even though he insisted on calling him “Ol’ King Fluffybuns”.

“Asgore Dreemurr!” said Dipper.

“CORRECT! WHAT A TERRIFIC ANSWER!”

“I was going to say Doctor Friendship…” said Mabel.

“NOW ENOUGH ABOUT YOU. LET’S TALK ABOUT ME! WHAT ARE ROBOTS MADE OF?”

“Metal and magic!” said Mabel.

That one had come pretty quickly, but Dipper figured that it was easy to guess.

“HERE’S AN EASY ONE FOR YOU: TWO TRAINS, TRAIN A AND TRAIN B, SIMULTANEOUSLY DEPART STATION A AND STATION B. STATION A AND STATION B ARE 252.5 MILES APART FROM ONE ANOTHER. TRAIN IS IS MOVING AT 124.7 MILESPERHOURTOWARDSSTATIONBAND TRAINBISMOVING-AT253.5MILESPERHOURTOWARSSTATIONAIFBOTHTRAINSDEPARTEDAT10:0AMANDITISNOW10:09HOWMUCHLONGERUNTILBOTHTRAINSPASSEACHOTHER?”

“32.058 minutes!” said Mabel.

Dipper had no idea how he could even solve that one, let alone Mabel.

“NEARLY RAN OUT THE CLOCK THERE, GORGEOUS! BUT THAT IS CORRECT!”

“You spent the entire time asking the question!” said Dipper.

“DO YOU WANT ME TO TAKE BACK YOUR CORRECT ANSWER?” Mettaton asked.

“We’re good!” Both the twins said.

“EXCELLENT! BECAUSE FROM HERE ON OUT THEY’RE ONLY GOING TO GET HARDER FROM HERE!” said Mettaton.”NEXT QUESTION: HOW MANY FLYS ARE IN THIS JAR?”

“54!” said Mabel.

“WHAT MONSTER IS THIS?”

“Mettaton!”

“BUT CAN YOU GET THIS ONE? WOULD YOU SMOOCH A GHOST?”

“Heck yeah!”

“WHAT A GOOD ANSWER! I LOVE IT!!!!” said Mettaton. “NEXT QUESTIONS: HOW MANY LETTERS ARE IN THE NAME METATTON NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN…”

“56!”

“That is correct!”

“How are you getting all of these?” Dipper asked.

“Alphys is telling me,” said Mabel. “But the smooch a ghost one was all me!”

Alphys froze.

“ALPHYS…” said Mettaton. “WERE YOU HELPING THE CONTESTANT?”

“U-u-uh, I was—” Alphys stammered.

“THAT’S ALRIGHT,” said Mettaton. “I’LL GIVE THEM AN ANSWER YOU’RE SURE TO KNOW THE ANSWER TO! WHO DOES DOCTOR ALPHYS HAVE A CRUSH ON?”

The two twins froze.

“Could we…not answer that one?” Dipper asked.

Entry no. 34

During our game of multi-dimensional chess, Bill mentioned something interesting. A Kingdom of Monsters. He seemed hesitant to discuss more; although it seemed more out of ignorance than ill-will. After some prying, he managed to bring up some key points. Sometime before Gravity Falls was inhabited, humans lived with monsters. A war broke out between the two races, leading to the monsters becoming imprisoned underneath a magic suppressing barrier. Bill mentioned that he had tried to enter the kingdom several times to look for someone to help him build the portal, but he kept being chased out by some “annoying dog”.

Whether or not he meant to, Bill has just made a phenomenal breakthrough with my research. Is this Kingdom of Monsters the source of all weirdness in Gravity Falls? Or even the world? Maybe there can be a direct link between the monsters in the forest and the monsters underground. Furthermore, if Bill really wanted to find a scientific mind in the kingdom of monsters, there could be someone else working on a portal right now.  Someone else I could compare notes with!

I expect the portal will be finished by tomorrow. Perhaps once Bill can enter our dimension, I can welcome him to Earth properly with a little hike.

It was much later, after the quiz show and after a cooking show and after a news show, when sans made himself known and invited Dipper to dinner.

“where’s that sister of yours?” he asked.

“Well…”

“‘A tragic tale of two lovers, torn apart by the tides of fate’…” Mabel read off of the poster in front of her. “That sounds right up my alley!”

She ignored the fact that 75% of the poster was Mettaton’s face. It would be nice to see him actually acting, and not just the elaborate set pieces he set up when he wanted to kill them. She would have to make a mental note to come back and catch it once Mettaton had calmed down a bit.

Mabel was so lost in thought that she did not notice where she was walking next. She stopped as she noticed she was on stage.

“Oh,” said Mabel as realization dawned on her.

“OH? COULD IT BE…” Mettaton’s voice echoed through the stage. “MY ONE TRUE LOVE?”

Mettaton descended down the fake balcony with all the grace of a vacuum cleaner. The song’s opening covered most of it up. He dropped the hem of his bright blue ballgown and began to sing.

That was when Mabel knew that this was really right up her alley.

“guess it doesn’t really matter,” said sans. “so, what do you know about a talking flower?”

The atmosphere grew suddenly very heavy. Dipper swallowed before he spoke.

“We found it in the Ruins,” said Dipper. “It’s this little gold flower named Flowey—“

“really?” said sans. “couldn’t think of a better name?”

“I didn’t name it!” Dipper said. “It calls itself that!”

“alright. tell me more about flowey mc flower face.”

“Well, when we left the Ruins, he talked about a lot of weird things,” said Dipper. “Stuff like how he was the one that would inherit this world...and how we weren’t the ones he was looking for…sans, how many humans have been in the Underground before us?”

“haven’t you heard undyne, kid?” sans asked. “there’ve been six humans in the underground. not including you two.”

“And is that where you got the lamps?” Dipper asked.

sans fell silent.

“Look, if we’re going to work together, we need to be 100% honest with each other,” Dipper said. “I won’t…judge you if you did something bad. Just be honest with me.”

Sans did not say anything for a moment. Just when Dipper was about to speak up again, he chuckled lowly.

“don’t judge anyone, you say? kid, that’s a good one and you don’t even know why yet,” said sans. “alright. there have been a total of 12 humans in the underground. i’ve seen six. just not at the same time.”

“So there’s a way out of the Underground then?” Dipper asked.

“sure there is. but that’s not what i’m talking about,” said sans.

“Well, what do you know about the other humans?”

“i’d say most weren’t older than you,” said sans. “all came from the ruins, all left through new home. all came at about the same time. don’t know what happened to them. don’t think they knew why they were here, either.”

“Well, do you think that flower might have something to do with it?” Dipper asked.

“don’t know. never seen ‘em before,” said sans after a minute. “well, if nothing else, this run’s been good for information. anything else you need to know?”

Dipper opened his mouth for a minute. But there was not anything else he could think to ask.

“great,” said sans. “if you get to the castle, i won’t stop you. but try and think about what you’re getting into, alright?”

It was only when sans got to the fichus in the corner that Dipper found what he wanted to ask next.

“What do you mean, ‘this time’? You keep talking about ‘this time’ and ‘these runs’, like you’ve already seen all this before!” said Dipper. “What are you trying to hide? I won’t be able to help you if you don’t tell me everything!”

“listen, kid,” said sans. “it’s not gonna matter. even if i do tell you everything, you’re just gonna disappear again. and there’ll be another kid waiting for me at my station. or maybe something worse. i’ve given up trying to change this.”

Dipper’s mouth hung open as he tried to think of what to say. Everything that sans said ran through his head. And then he realized.

“You’re a time traveler?”

The light in sans’ eyesockets went dark. He did not say anything.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Dipper asked. “Maybe we can help you! Are you with the same agency as Blendin? Is there actually a Time Baby?”

“well,” said sans. “you’re close. if there’s a time traveler, it’s not me.”

Dipper probably had more experience with time travel than the average person, but it was still limited. There was stuff in the journals and the science fiction books he read, but most of what he really remembered came from the 80’s movies Mabel watched. There was one he remembered quite well, about the crabby man who was stuck in the same day repeating over and over.

“Oh,” said Dipper, because he was not sure what else he could say.

“if that’s all you have to say, kid, then i better head out,” said sans. “it’s almost papyrus’ bedtime, and he gets cranky without a bedtime story.”

“We’ll find a way to fix this,” said Dipper. “Mabel and I. We have, uh…experience with this kind of thing.”

“i mean, you probably won’t,” said sans. “but thanks anyway.”

He walked past the fichus in the corner and disappeared.

It took Dipper longer to leave. Too much was going through his head, not just about what sans had said but how he looked when he said it. He was going to have to set things right. There was no way around it.

When he did stumble out, he was surprised to find Mabel.

“Hey Dipper!” Mabel said. “I just finished up Mettaton’s play! How was your date with sans?”

It barely fazed Dipper to hear it called a date. His mind was on too many other things.

“Do you remember what the Journal said about time travel?” Dipper asked.

“Hmm…I’m not sure about the Journal, but there was that Blendin’ guy,” Mabel said.

“That’s what I was thinking too,” said Dipper. “No matter how we get back home, we need to remember to find a way to contact him.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Mabel said. “I’ll make a note of it in this cool notebook I bought from the turtle!”

[onceuponabookblr]

82 Truths!

I was tagged by @theprintedgirl!  Thank you so much for tagging me!

Rules: Once you’ve been tagged, write a post with 82 truths about yourself and then tag 25 people

My Favourites:

Animal: Pomeranians

Colour: Lilac/millennial pink

Drink:Almost any bubble tea

Food: Macaroni and cheese

Time of year: My favorite holiday time is Christmas but my favorite season is spring!

Films: Amelie, Good Will Hunting, The Piano, probably La La Land, and loads of others! 

Book: Born a Crime by Trevor Noah, The Woman in Cabin 10 by Ruth Ware, The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak, Hunger by Roxane Gay, and loads of others!

Subject in school: World History

Flower: Peonies

Fruit: Mangoes

About Me:

I’m 22

I work at an institute which trains people in foreign affairs careers. 

I live in Washington, DC, U..S. of A

I have a BA in International Studies (which I got in 3 years instead of 4, which ended up being a great decision)

I am originally from a rural town in Western New York (with a population of only about 1,500 people, a Native American reservation, and a sizable Amish population - YES, I AM STILL TALKING ABOUT NEW YORK AND NOT SAY, INDIANA).

I speak intermediate level Mandarin and lived in Beijing, China for a semester abroad.

I am biologically an only child but I’m very close to my step family, in which I am the middle child with both one older and one younger step-brother.

I really love stories which is why I love reading so much, in addition to being a huge cinephile.  

I wanted to be a writer for my whole life until I was 16, when I realized I could put my love of studying world history and cultures toward diplomacy one day. I still really want to be a writer and write a book.

I curated a Twitter account for an American ambassador a few years ago.  It was really insightful how many revisions I had to pass by people before just a 180 character tweet could be posted, let alone a statement or interview remarks.

Most recent:

Phone call: Momma

Text: My best friend

Food: I got delivery from this burger restaurant I love.  It’s shoestring French fries covered in parmesan cheese, scallions, an over easy egg, and chipotle mayo.  I had a particularly busy day at work (this is our busiest time of the year) and thought I would treat myself.

Drink: Water

Book: The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas

Purchase: The french fries I discussed in Answer #3

Song I listened to: Probably “Look What You Made Me Do” by Taylor Swift.  I’m not sure I like it but it’s catchy as hell.

Reason to be excited: I interviewed for a promotion last week and am waiting to hear back!

TV show: THE BOLD TYPE, you guys.  I love it.

Obsession: Books!

Memories:

Happiest: When I was 17 I attended a college prep program for honors students at Boston University.  I made my first lifelong friends and got to experience living outside my 1,500 person town for the first time.  It was major culture shock in the best way.  

Saddest: My mom has a chronic illness and it hurts me whenever I see her in extreme pain or in the hospital again.

Strangest: Well I guess this is recent: Last night I had a dream I was watching a movie in which Matt Damon purposely got stuck in an elevator and spent the whole time trying to get out.  I woke up at 4 AM this morning because of it and it took me about an hour to get back to sleep because I wasn’t comfortable with how claustrophobic my bed felt.

Scariest: I almost drowned in a kayak when I was learning how to get out of whitewater kayak gear.  

Funniest: On a July trip in California with my family, we were talking about people with eating disorders for some reason and the Google version of Alexa on my step-dad’s phone was activated somehow, but since the phone was also navigating us in the car, it couldn’t search anything.  So it just goes, “I’m sorry, I can’t help you with anorexic women.”  It’s one of those occurrences where it might of been just way funnier in the moment than describing the whole thing.

Exciting: Putting my entire life in two suitcases and moving to China.

Proudest: As I said earlier, 3 years instead of 4 for my BA, fuck yeah.

Boring: At my college, students had to take a lot of economics classes in order to major in international studies. Not titillating stuff.

Biggest Fears

Dying

Roller coasters

Failure

Kidnapping

Do scary movies count?  lol

Excited for in Life:

Travelling more abroad

Making more friends with new interests, ideas, and cultural backgrounds

Finding a lovahhh

Becoming a diplomat

Having a kid (or kids, who knows)

Eating really expensive food (I’m kind of a foodie)

Reading great books

I am always…

Checking my email

Reading

Overthinking EVERYTHING

Doing something dumb on my phone

Messaging my mom

Looking at Bookstagrams and being like “How? HOWWW?  HOW ARE THESE PICTURES ALL SO AMAZINGLY BEAUTIFUL AND DETAILED?”

Telling myself I won’t have something with chocolate in it...then eating something with chocolate in it.

Checking the news and weather.

Going over different paths my life could take

Messaging my friends the most random shit.

I wish I was, and I eventually will be…

A diplomat!

More organized

Confident and self-assured

Better at managing money

A speed reader

CHARMING!

...AND ALSO SUPER HILARIOUS IN AN EFFORTLESS WAY

Talented at doing anything with my hair

A published author

A self proclaimed bad-ass bitch

Favourite Things about Myself:

I am a very nice and open person, although I am a little shy at first  

I am incredibly opinionated and often get a little too ranty, but a ton of people love me for it.

Cute butt.

I’m fiercely intelligent, especially when it comes to knowing random information.

I’m very good at styling/designing things. I’ve got an artistic eye.

I try to encourage people and use my sense of humor to the best of my ability in that.

My steadfast belief in universal values/what’s right.

I always want to go to new places.

I seek out knowledge wherever I go.

Finally, my blog…

It makes me so happy!  It has been a relief to come here when my days have felt monotonous.

Is both artistic and wordy; particular to some books but generic in its love of reading culture in general - it’s very me.

Needs a selfie of me with some books but I’m feeling camera shy at the moment.

This is not quite 25 so I’m sorry but...now to tag some of my favorite people I’ve either interacted with or want to interact with more on Booklr: @spiritedgalaxies @gracemccaull @-outofcontext- @blackgirlslit @the-bookler @book-loving-trash @thebookrose @readerreaderpumpkineater @tatithetinybooktuber @partiallybooks @readcreate @gingerbookblogger @fearlessly-fictional @brianamorganbooks-deactivated20 @teachingliteracy @theheartthatyoucall-home @lulalandrys @everybodywantssomecupcake @firebendingpadme @literaryqueen20 @pagesinmylife

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 9th September 2018

Okay, so, when I put this show in the Wednesday slot, I expect to have a calmer week, but that is far from what I got here. We have seven new arrivals, three of which are one of our occasional mini-album bombs. Usually, we get the three most popular songs from an album which had nearly all of his songs chart on the Hot 100 – for example, here, the whole album charted in the US (excluding the skits) but we only get the lead single, first or so song on the album and the surprise breakout hit, as usual with album bombs. However, expect me to not be looking forward to reviewing each song here. When I have one of these mini-bombs to cover, usually either the album is pretty decent (Kanye West’s ye and Travis Scott’s ASTROWORLD) or at least some of the better songs actually chart high so I don’t need to be as cynical towards the artist and the record as a whole while covering the individual hits (Drake’s Scorpion). We have a 4/10 album on our hands, folks, and the three songs that charted... well, we’ll get to them in a second, and you know what album it is already... if you don’t, well, here’s the top 10 to remind you.

Top 10

We start with a new #1... seriously, guys? Alright, well, Calvin Harris, now the man with the most #1s this decade, has added a new entry to the list, “Promises” with Sam Smith, up a spot from last week’s placing.

Next, we have last week’s #1 at the runner-up spot, “Eastside” by benny blanco, Khalid and Halsey. I told you this wouldn’t last long at the tip.

Meanwhile, “Shotgun” by George Ezra is still at number-three, proving its surprising amount of longevity in the top 10 at its 24th week on the chart.

We now have the first of three new arrivals in the top 10 from Eminem’s new album Kamikaze at number-four, with the spot taken by intro track, “The Ringer”.

Oh, and “Body” by Loud Luxury and brando is still at number-five. I’m surprised by how much stability it has.

The second new arrival from Eminem is at number-six, and that would be “Lucky You” featuring rapper Joyner Lucas, making his UK top 40 debut, and, damn, if he doesn’t finally deserve it, 11 years into his career.

Down three spots and slowly collapsing is “In My Feelings” by Drake featuring City Girls at number-seven. The faster this goes, the better.

“Taste”, however, by Tyga and Offset, is up a spot to number-eight, which doesn’t exactly shock me too much but I’m surprised it took this long, if anything.

Finally, our third and final (thankfully) new arrival from Eminem is “Fall” featuring uncredited (and fortunately so) vocals from Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, debuting at number-nine.

Rounding off the top 10 is “Girls Like You” by Maroon 5 featuring Cardi B down three spaces to number-ten.

Climbers

I’ll try and keep everything before the new arrivals brief, especially since we have seven of them, so let’s go past the climbers, fallers and such in pretty much rapid-fire speed.

The only really notable climbers here are “Lost Without You” by Freya Ridings fortunately jumping up seven spaces to #29, as well as “Baby Shark” by Pinkfong unfortunately taking a five-space increase to #32. Again, it shouldn’t be charting – it’s not even two minutes! I’m not saying short songs shouldn’t enter the charts, hell, I root for Lil Pump’s success, but this is only six seconds over of what I’d call an interlude track. Come on, guys, pull it together.

Fallers

Now the fallers are a different story... let’s go by genre.

For pop and... “rock”, we have “God is a woman” and “breathin’” by Ariana Grande both down six positions to #12 and #17 respectively, while “Youngblood” by 5 Seconds of Summer is down seven spaces to #25.

EDM suffered a lot this week, for some reason, with “Rise” by Jonas Blue and Jack & Jack taking a five-spot blow to #24, and six-space losses for both “Solo” by Clean Bandit and Demi Lovato and “Jackie Chan” by Tiesto and Dzeko featuring Preme and Post Malone to #28 and #33, as well as a whopping 23-space droop down to #37 for “Ring Ring” by Jax Jones featuring Mabel and Rich the Kid, alongside milder drops for Calvin Harris and David Guetta.

Hip-hop and R&B on the other hand just had one interesting enough loss, surprisingly, and that was the five-space drop for “SICKO MODE” by Travis Scott featuring Drake and Swae Lee. Now, drop-outs!

Dropouts

So, yeah, Drake had a rough week. As well as a drop for “In My Feelings” discussed earlier, both “Don’t Matter to Me” with Michael Jackson and “Nonstop” dropped out from #29 and #30, assumingly because of Eminem getting much more streams this week. Hopefully they’ll then go for good. Other than that, we had quite a few notable drops... genres again.

For pop, we have “IDOL” by BTS – kind of featuring Nicki Minaj – out from #21, “2002” by Anne-Marie out from #34, finally, “no tears left to cry” by Ariana Grande out from #35 straight off the re-entry and “This is Me” by Keala Settle and the Greatest Showman Ensemble out once again from #38.

For hip-hop and R&B, we just have a few little drop outs that were expected like “Fine Girl” by ZieZie out from #31 and “I Like It” by Cardi B featuring Bad Bunny and J Balvin out from #39.

Returning Entries

“TOOTIMETOOTIMETOOTIME” by the 1975 is back to #40... please go back to #46, trust me, guys, you were better there. Now, since the Ed Sheeran Update is somewhat redundant, I’m scrapping that feature, so, we’re just going straight into the new arrivals...joy.

NEW ARRIVALS

I’m splitting this set of new arrivals into two parts: Eminem and non-Eminem. It won’t be a different blog, and they’ll still be in descending order of where they entered the charts at, but it’s just easier to separate this way, especially since seven new arrivals and their reviews could look very messy when there’s loads of them, so I thought why not separate them into halves. Let’s start.

#38 – “LO(V/S)ER” – AJ Tracey

We’ve talked about AJ Tracey before and I wasn’t impressed by his breakout hit, but his follow-up, with a quirky title showing how it has the potential to be an introspective look into how he trusts partners too easily or something related to that interesting “loser”/”lover” combination, could be much better, after all, he had Not3s to weigh him down last time, so how does he do solo, without the pop audience to please?

Well, first of all, it’s a trap beat with a sample that I’m pretty sure is out-of-tune for the neverending melody, hence it transcends monotonous and becomes pretty grating, especially with that repetitive hook and the simplistic flow... but what about the lyrics? Do they exceed or at least meet my expectations? Well, I was kidding myself, really, wasn’t I? It’s about how he’s a lover for “a pretty Latina” and how you, the listener, are a loser because you’re going to get hit with the strap while he’s chilling in Cuba sipping Hennessey and... running away from the police. Surely you shouldn’t mention that in your hit song, right? It just makes you more of a target. At least it’s more of a lust song for a pretty Latina, at least he’s not taking MY girl or anything.

I’m with your girl, she got blow on her nose (oh)

Well, damn, nevermind.

#36 – “Beautiful” – Bazzi featuring Camila Cabello

Sigh, Bazzi. I was so disappointed in this guy’s debut record after loving “Mine”, it was mostly just mediocre trite – and way too much of it, may I add. Camila Cabello’s hopped on a remix of one of the least tolerable songs on COSMIC, and knowing her tendency to have very squeaky, borderline unbearable vocals on a lot of her hits, it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise that she made an already trash song... a tad MORE listenable? Bazzi sounds out-of-breath and desperate, fitting for the pretty thirsty lyrics here, with the lines about the Gucci and how she looks better naked not exactly fitting with the lovestruck angelic theme he’s going for. The production is typical Bazzi fare, with “pretty” synths clouding the non-presence of the deeper 808s, however Camila Cabello’s performance is actually pretty song, and she goes for a more seductive vibe that I really like here, although the autotuned belting could really have been rid of. It’s not as awful as it was on the album, but it’s not like it’s any good either.

#35 – “Be Alright” – Dean Lewis

Dean Lewis, up-and-coming singer-songwriter and Australian chart-topper, who I initially confused with Dennis Lloyd, who recorded one of the worst songs I’ve heard on this show a few weeks or months back, has finally landed his first song in the UK top 40, and it’s quite fittingly, “alright”. Dean Lewis’ voice is actually pretty endearing, and the Ed Sheeran-ish brand of folk pop is much more effective when it’s slow and indie-infused like this. Sure, Lewis may appear somewhat whiny in the lyrics and overall performance, but there’s enough genuine charisma and strength here for me to forgive that, with the choir of Dean Lewis backing him up well enough. It’s not fantastic by any means, but for a short little simplistic track, it gets a pass. Not much to say about this one, and it’s not going to be one I go back to, but I hope this goes somewhere because I’m personally interested in how Lewis will follow this up.

#22 – “Thunderclouds” – LSD

This is the first top 40 entry for the group “LSD”, however this is the umpteenth time the artists involved have made the list, as LSD stands for Labrinth, Sia and Diplo. Labrinth is an R&B singer who I personally loved in his heyday in the early 2010s, but he seems to have faded away, despite some great hits like “Express Yourself” and “Let the Sun Shine”, which I still come back to today. Sia is more hit-and-miss for me, but I’ve never been amazed or appalled by any of her stuff, excluding maybe her Christmas album, which for the sake of shortening this review, I will not go any further into. Diplo is the artist I’m most familiar with here, mostly because he makes so much fun dance music under groups like Major Lazer and Jack U, as well as venturing into more alternative territory on his latest EP California, where he’s somehow made Lil Xan listenable. “Wish” featuring Trippie Redd and “Look Back” featuring D.R.A.M. are strong contenders for my favourite songs of the year so far, and that’s not to forget about his work with countless other people from No Doubt and Snoop Dogg to Lil Pump and G-Dragon to M.I.A. and even Die Antwoord. Diplo has a habit of making artists sound so much better than they actually are in their solo work, there’s something magic about him, I swear. So, what happens when a British R&B singer and rapper of fluctuating popularity, an eccentric Australian electropop singer-songwriter and an eclectic American EDM DJ come together to form a supergroup and make a song for the Samsung Galaxy Note 9 promotional campaign?

Retro 50’s/60’s soul infused with elements of funky doo-wop, apparently. Don’t worry, I’m not necessarily complaining – the bass guitar groove is tight as hell, Sia’s as-usual intelligible vocals ride well on the Summery shimmer of the intro, especially with those surf rock guitars, and the powerful vocals from Labrinth in that strong hook, which is intertwined with choppy vocal snippets from Sia. Labrinth’s verse is somehow worse, however, due to the incredible lack of chemistry as they both trade lines as a faulty build-up, and that problem remains true for the rest of the song. No matter how much I love the horns and how it sounds like two (or three) worlds combining to make something so much more interesting and different than what they’ve made before, the chemistry is not there, Sia and Labrinth are even somewhat sloppy throughout, especially when they’re against some pretty rough vocal mixing. Speaking of, the horns should not be that back into the mix, they feel wasted... much like the talent on this song which could be summed up in an absolute mess of good musical ideas that start to mesh together and just fall apart and collapse before the abrupt ending. I feel bad for saying this since I like the artists involved, but I’m not excited for the album yet if this group keeps on making songs that just don’t work as well as they want them to be. It’s a decent listen and they shouldn’t go back to the drawing board conceptually if they go for this sound, but it really needs some polishing, guys.

So, what’s the next song? Oh... Oh, no.

EMINEM

#9 – “Fall” – Eminem featuring Justin Vernon

Let’s get through this as quickly as I can, because I can’t be talking about Eminem for too long here, so I’ll just give you some info on the track and then go straight into it, sparing no punches. You got it? Okay.

“Fall” is the tenth track on the album, and is being pushed as the lead single with a recently-released video. It features uncredited vocals from Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, who soon distanced himself from the lyrics of the song, saying he wasn’t a big fan of the message. It was produced by Eminem himself with Mike WiLL Made-It... and it’s awful. Let’s ignore the lyrics for a second and just talk about the cookie-cutter trap beat with a fast yet pretty uneventful synth melody. I like Vernon’s autotuned falsetto hook quite a lot, actually, and Eminem’s flow is pretty great throughout the verses, as he says, his rapid Slim Shady flow is back... and so is his sense of humour, for better or for worse. I appreciate that Marshall Mathers plays a character and he is a charismatic performer, but, man, these disses just feel unnecessary. I’m not a fan of DJ Akademiks, Joe Budden, Charlemagne or any of the hip-hop reporting crowd for that matter, but criticising a trash album you admit is terrible is not something to take personally, especially when you have admitted you don’t like the record either, so why should you defend yourself against critics that you think are reasonable in not liking your album? He doesn’t go in depth to why, he just kind of ignores them and says the hate is because of “Walk on Water”... which it isn’t, it’s probably one of the songs people actually tolerated on that trainwreck. He also starts dissing the mumble-rappers, and yes, of course, I’m quick to defend them, but they are not mocking JAY-Z... ever. I have never seen a trap-rapper try and be JAY-Z. In fact, JAY-Z imitates Migos more than Migos imitates JAY-Z. If you meant mumble-rappers mock classic hip-hop, why JAY-Z? It’s typically legends like 2Pac who are seen as being disrespected, while JAY-Z is fitting into the mainstream rap crowd pretty nicely decades into his career, and making music with modern artists like Frank Ocean, Drake and even Quavo and Offset of the Migos. There’s some speculation that this line is instead about J. Cole and Lil Pump’s beef, but, yeah, I doubt that even Eminem would think that the “beef” is anything but petty and silly publicity. He threatens to kill Joe Budden, whilst criticising his domestic abuse charges... I’d argue Eminem isn’t exactly one to talk on things like this, but, hey, I’m probably not either, but I am one to talk on how Eminem, hiding in character as Slim Shady, throws petty shots at Tyler, the Creator and Earl Sweatshirt, to the point of calling Tyler, a pretty openly bisexual man, the f-word... you know what it is, I’m not going to say it (oh, and he wants to have sexual intercourse with the Pitchfork writers using a corkscrew for some reason). This is all because of criticism of his album – now, Slim Shady, naturally, would feel this way, right? But Slim Shady wasn’t on Revival, and he made it a point to be as personal on that album as he could, so when people criticised it, it’s blatant that the shots he throws are only using Slim Shady as an excuse for his immature, ignorant and loudly homophobic (and on other tracks during the album, borderline misogynistic) behaviour that he portrays here. He took the criticism to his work personally, and it’s obvious, no matter how much he tries to hide it. We can see your face through the veil, Marshall, and that face is of a legend falling from grace... unless he already has, which is probably the answer to all of this. However, Eminem is still a big of a name to get away with bull like this and get it to chart in the top 10 of the UK, and get to perform at Reading Festival, while Tyler’s still banned from Britain entirely. Oh, and critiquing the Grammys for being leeches to the biggest artists... like you, who has won 15 of the worthless awards. Nice one, you pathetic douche. Oh, and inspiring Hopsin is not anything to be proud of, my guy.

Now, there are many things about newer Eminem that just generally annoy me all the time, like his overall attitude and choppy staccato flow paired with the nasal voice he puts on, but he can still make banging hip-hop tracks when he wants to. He just needs someone fresh to light a fire up in him and let him explode. Who better to do that than the feature on the next track?

#6 – “Lucky You” – Eminem featuring Joyner Lucas

On Kamikaze, there are Tokyo Ghoul samples, Tay Keith giving Em a lazy beat that is literally “Look Alive” pitched down, a bloody hilarious outro track, skits about pulling up to Joe Budden’s house, interpolations of “Fack”, two interesting and funny collaborations with Jessie Reyez, an apology track to D12, a misogynistic rant and... an unironically great song. That song is the third track, produced by Boi-1da, “Lucky You”, featuring Joyner Lucas on his first ever UK Top 40 chart entry.

Now this song bangs hard. The beat is made up out of a maddening bell chiming incessantly that provide a minimalistic bass for Joyner Lucas to yell his freaking guts out, before transitioning to a rapid flow with on-point flexing, charismatic barking ad-libs like Lucas is on his DMX and a lot of catchy and memorable quotables... but somehow Marshall is even better, where he admits he took an L on his last album (rather hypocritical considering the content of the album) and gives out a lot of criticisms torwards trap-rap that even I believe, whilst reasoning with the Lils by saying it’s just not his taste and that he needs that diss so he can reload and aim back like he used to do, and Goddamn, he proves it, with one of his best verses from this decade and maybe ever, right before handing it back to Joyner Lucas for a brief repetition of the catchy hook. This is fantastic, and proves that Eminem still has it and he SHOULD be making more of this. However...

#4 – “The Ringer” – Eminem

This is the opening track of the album, produced by Illa and Ronny J, and I’ve already ranted in way too much length than I planned to on “Fall” and praised the hell out of “Lucky You”, so can I let the criticism take the backseat here and just make fun of this piece of hot garbage?

It starts with a plane crash and it’s getting intense. Eminem, in his unbearably nasal voice, may I add, is saying he wants to just “punch the world in its f***ing face”. He’s getting heated up. What’s he gonna say? What fire bars is he going to spit? Well, he’s gonna... “rape the alphabet”. This dude just said he’s going to molest the alphabet... I’m glad I’m not taking this seriously, and I don’t think he exactly wants us to, but he does try and make points he actually believes in like how Lil Pump and Lil Xan supposedly imitate Lil Wayne, even though they have barely anything in common stylistically other than the vague description of “rappers with Lil in their name who have tattoos and make brag-rap”. Lil Wayne wasn’t even the first guy to do that, and I’d argue Lil Pump is more energetic than Wayne has ever been or will again, and Lil Xan, although I hate the dude to death, has more of a lethargic, trippy style that borders on ambient. Although Xanny and Wayne do both have the questionable sex-related puns in check at seemingly all times. Eminem also talks about how if he mentions these rappers, they’re winning and he’s losing, so why even bother?

He then complains about the bad reviews – this isn’t Slim Shady either – before asking if I get his own joke, discusses how he should “eat” a pill and how supposedly the old Eminem was killed, although this side of Eminem is incredibly prevalent on Kamikaze. He also mentions his bad habits, like, flicking his scrotum like a light switch, supposedly similarly to Mike Pence, complains about how trap-rappers always take YOUR girl (okay, maybe that’s something I can agree with) and disses NF (again, I can agree with NF being worthless). The “chorus”-like bar is just a stream of consciousness-type lyric to the flow of “Gucci Gang” by Lil Pump, which rattles off a few notable names without much added context or reasoning.

So finger-bang, chicken wang, MGK, Igg’ Azae’ / Lil Pump, Lil Xan, imitate Lil Wayne

He does know Iggy Azalea isn’t relevant at all anymore, right? Is he that out of touch? Oh, and all you other rappers are “goners” because you’re not conscious and lyrical like J. Cole, Kendrick Lamar and... Big Sean? Do you want to play odd one out with me, Marshall?

“Maybe if the vocals were autotuned on Revival, people would have bought it,” he claims, seemingly oblivious to the fact that that was one of the problems to begin with, oh, and finger-banging again:

So finger-bang, Pootie-Tang, Burger King, Gucci gang / Dookie-dang, Charlemagne gonna hate anyway

There’s more, like when he specifies he DOES mean “eating a penis” when he says critics should get a mouthful of flesh, but I’m done for the day on Eminem. I’ve written nearly 2,000 words on this trash-heap so let’s just conclude before I go insane.

Conclusion

This is already way too long and they should be obvious, so here it goes: Worst of the Week and Dishonourable Mention both go to Eminem. WOTW is shared with Justin Vernon for “Fall” and Dishonourable Mention is for “The Ringer”. Best of the Week obviously goes to Eminem and Joyner Lucas for “Lucky You”, with Honourable Mention, I guess, going to Dean Lewis for “Be Alright”. Next week, hopefully we’ll get some Mac Miller? I don’t know, but what I do know is the new schedule which I want to make clear. REVIEWING THE CHARTS will alternate sporadically between Sundays and Wednesdays, but there will be a monthly show called BLAST TO THE PAST, which instead of just covering an old chart, will cover a lot of older pop music, and will basically be a fun time for me to do whatever I want, honestly. There’ll be more down the pipeline but stay tuned for that either this week or next week, where I rank all of Snoop Dogg and Pharrell Williams’ collaborations that ever charted on the Hot 100. See you then.

[haeroniel-doliet]

thbleugh but what bich is gonna fight me for me

idk im just gonna rant again, im sorry if youre on mobile just like, give it a big flick and fly past this i tried i actually have a read more this time

anywy im feelin shitty an dumb n weird an its not fun?? like do we try categorize these feelings: 

1. i have 3 days to pass a course and all the course work i failed to do in fucking march 

1.b. all those emotions to do w unis great! but also ive been solow and sad and dysfunctional its not rly even funny, grades dropping many levels in half a year like. sure grades dont define my life but considering how easy it is for me to get those grades to see them consistently and kinda dramatically dropping isnt helping (even though like i actively know i got lower grades bc i didnt fucking attend class or take in any knowledge. i realise hahah im making a psychology reference bc im a smart psychology uni student.... hmh oh yeah we, we learned about this, i dont know it. my peers do. oh. oh i didnt, i didnt learn anything. oh no. im here to learn abt the subject im supposedly loving and thats the best fit for me bc like hell id be an artist. anyway i have a lot of shit down here i havent figured out who to talk it out to. the mental health advisor didnt have the time for it rly and w counsellors its been different topics but now were in summer and id rather spend the spare money i can rattle off my parents on ballet than a psyhc i could see 2 times best. im just gonna have to wait till septembet bc my dumb white wall subscitption expired too damnti. ugh im just, okay lets move on

2. inadequacy thats not justified? like it is obvs bc it bothers me and i know i can do better and i am better than this all and i clearly have smth stopping me. while to others im doing just fine if not better than them who are really struggling and kinda dont have sympathy for me who goes ‘ugh im doing so badly and struggling, i mean i write perfect essays in one go but its just so hard to do thattt and i know im smarter and better than this’ esp bc say putting words together in that way is difficult on them and not been good at school

2.b. like being good at school but noot being good now, classic phenomenon or has my school system always been the softes most coddliest and where in the normal or worse school 1would have performed average and maybe learned to study and the worth of it to do better, ive just been good enough that caring became so unnecessary i need to waste my time on pointless but constant other things. like youtube and rpchats. constant monotone stimulation for hours. andhours. 

2.c. asking for help bc im struggling w actually getting over the fuzzy and struggle and self hate and blegh feelings to do some work thatd allow me to pass the coursein my 3 days of the very last extended time. and then realising, ah either youve slaved over your work and stressed and panicked to have it good and on time and have no pity left for me and my foolishness, or you never got to uni/struggled to go to uni and think im wasting my opportunity by being an ungrateful lazy piece of hsit. and i know ia m. and 2.d. its the reason why im not doing extra volunteering or serious extra curriculars thatd give the headstart in my lfie. bc, even tho on one side i wanna be that kid and owuld scoff at ppl not doing it who are here for fun and get a degree on the side, rn i see it as not stealing away dedicated good peoples spots who deserve to get the extra recognition for being clever and independent, meanwhile knowing htat probablyill be just fine. worst case scenario for me is literally (ok theres worse but v unlikely) living w my parents and ending up at a mediocre service job to another mediocre office job or smth and never get to a lab bc i wasnt sufficient enough and i never got the cotton balls out of my head and cleared up again to be smart enogh

okay what next, shitty privilige, crying abt my cotton ball head or not being smart

3. okay were gonna do the smart first bc my chest hurts and i kinda feel like crying or smth abt it. like in a dumb (fun) chat im playing athena known for wisdom and all this shit, and though i can throw out a quip or two or cleverly use smth to keep the smartass wisdom stick going on, every now and then i realise how dumb i am and not smart enough that another person could clearly fill this in much better. like. you know all the hilarious posts abt mansplaining and women being pushed out of their fields by dumber men who think they know better bc the others a woman and like, yeah? things where they are confident enough to say, actually i am way smarter than you and i know this bettr. here i am feeling like even if i spent years researching smth i wouldnt have the confidence to feel smart and knowldegeable abt it. like rn, i cant even hold arguments anymore bc im a fool. and i come off as dumb and i dont want to be, i still wanna be the smart kid, but im not working my brain im not doing work or research or learning, im jsut floating by w my cotton ball head thats getting fuzzier and fuzzier and though i can do tasks and would probably b v compeittive if it came to that and need to prove myself as smart, i can no longer feel like id hold my own, esp when people poke holes so easily, trap falls, “hah you dont know what to say ive bested you you dumb bitch” vibey things i just. its horrible? i wanna be smart and be confident in my smartness and feel recognized as smart by other people and live up to that expectation of actually being clever. and not just, knowing im smart enough in some ways bc school ive  passed so easy w always good remarks and participate well in class discussion and all, and im sure nobody thinks im rly dumb bc if i have to ask things im v friendly and try to be attentive. and idk if nobodys expecting more than me, bc again if i cant answer ive developed to be v chill about it and come off as average i guess. 

anyways 4. privilige; like thers multiple inc. the fact im fucking finnish aka my education system was supposedly one of the best, i grew up international so i wasnt even confined to one shitty school in one shitty town, ive had varied school experiences and switching so much i think has given me confidence in myself and shit like that. also bc im finnish i get grants in uni, like free money. and so far i have barely had to use it bc surprise my parents are togther and decently well off bc they got lucky w a job being fancy ppl for 3 years and my older brother is already  adulting and slowly doing his own thing so i can have more money from them. aka. catch my dad paying all my rent and food and everything i need/ ask for on the condition we keep a good releationship. and im reasonable bc he raised me smart apparently idk. but that still means im living at home i have no intentions of becoming an independent home owner bc idk how i would esp since ill be with my parents most holidays for years to come and idk even when or how ill become a real adult being in a real home w real comapnionship. bc rn idk who im even gonna live with, hopefully be civil w them maybe even make a bit of friends but im not gonna have a significant other to move in and support me for a while bc thats a thing idk if were getting into today in this why im feeling shitty rant. 

4.b. so im priviliged in everyway to go to uni for free (damn i gotta apply for that again) in a nice country and a nice and supportive school and get funding from both my parents and my country and not worry abt money and just get a degree all supported and babied again. im also, idk. priviliged bc, fuck writing comes easy to me, i know nayone reading my rants would be like... yeah this is barely legible and terrible writted and mind blurts so i say it is yes bc its mind blurts but i can organise my htoughts into fancy essays surprisingly easy and critical stuff like psych and english came  mad easy to an extent. sure, i wasnt talented in math but i still made it, i am not talented in science but sometimes the concepts click and i can . but then, im also talented in art. and im not ashamed to say its privilige disposition or talent or smth, bc damn. i do not practice or dedicate enough love to claim that. sure, ive drawn always, sure, ive practiced more as a kid thatn other kids and thats probably carried me thru pretty far, but i think ive just had a natural disposition to be good at art technique (creativity maybe not so, or inspiration) but i know what looks good and sometimes how to achieve that. cue montage to art class where i sit w my friends who are talking about bands or making outlines w nut shells bc there i am beside them doing the work in half the time twice as good. mostly bc the teacher wasnt great and would assign essentially copying a picture from a4 to a2 u know like drawing the same thing. and thats not easy. and youre supposed to build up really light layers and slowly refine it.  and ppl who listened only ended up w shitty light drawings that either look like potatoes or vaguely like the picture, while i with boosting confidence would go, we only do one super light sketch one medium sketch and one dark layer. bc by the medium one everything is in its place and looks abt like everyone elses and i need the dark hues to show it accurately even if it isnt perfect, and my work would like almost always stand out on the wall bc it was so different/advanced. i wont lie it influenced my friends to not draw as well or as much sitting next to me, and ofc id feel bad and i could never boast bc i felt bad that they didnt try bc they saw me, thought mines not gonna be like that so im just gonna fuck around and do whatever. and i obvs needed praise but would always feel bad bc it was obviously me who was the best in that class and its so self conceited but, it kinda just was true in that small class half of whom didnt want to be there. me butt kissin and trying to impress myself w my skill. catch like, that first day he asked us to draw the person next to us, and i made my partner draw me first, bc i just knew if i went first theyd look at it and draw me a potato stick figure in 5 seconds and say i cant draw like you. and true. while the rest of the class made sketchy circle guys, some looing so childish, here i went and said, okay i find it awkward having you stare at me and if  you move a lot it makes it harder to be accurate, so, like take out your phone and get comfortable and look down at that for a while hence drawing3/4 unlike anyone else w eyes cast down and damn if i dont remember it being beautiful and identifiable as that friend, even tho the teacher told ppl around me like, ah yes she did it this way, 3/4 not face on which is much easier. which is true but bitch you never said. sides it looks so much better and was so much less frustrating. anyway, even now in that chat i go and like drop my drawings in bc partially i just wanna draw more and showing people makes me draw? u know. and i kinda wanna get compliments. but ive figured im pretty humble abt it. and sure i get comments that are like god i wish i could draw like that from someone that doesnt draw arms or legs and theyre v bublehead cartoon. and im like. you could. but yours is still middle school level, so just, keep working at it, get confidence to break your mold. 

that andtheres this one chick that,,,, gawd, well they admit to being a sociopath in chat which is great and seem real attention seekery in general (theres a surprising amount of people, while in midst of rp and getting compliments go “well i guess im a shit rpr because nobody wants to rp with me ://) post art and then be like dramatically UGH i hate it it looks so bad im terrible at art, literally poster girl for fishing for compliments. and even if i dont like the style at all, i try give in anatomical pointers or smth abt the drapery or smth technical i can complement. bc id want the same i guess? and i dont love let alone like the art itself. and then, while getting so many of those theyre like “yeah well nobody likes my art, say it reminds them of this character (jessica rabbit while all hers have big hips big tits tiny waists massive lips massive eye, but just one eye bc the otehrs covered by hair like theres obvious similarities) which means im totally not original like i thought so why even try!” and other melodramatic things that i can argue, but they dont wanna hear it they want attention and praise and i just ughhh i could preach you about how no art is original and its all from influence, or how someone doesnt have to like your style to appreciate it, or someone might love your style and like. basic stuff ive figured out myself. and it gets frustrating trying not to get a superiority, or to start shoving my own art in there to try compete or smth. and its just. hard. idk. id k. i know theres people who are averse to art and never tried to be good at it who are obvs gonna be omg thats so good i cant even draw and ill be like, hah yeah sure dude if you tried maybe btut thanks. 

also drawing man its so weird, whenever i see someone elses drawing a part of me goes “we must draw so that we can show were better than that” like, either to get complimetns and shift it to me? or to just show them off. to be like. i can do it better. which i kinda hate about myself? that i draw mostly bc of that and a need to show off? like amxxs art or smth, them talking like yeahh ugly art is good art, drawing is so healing i feel great or im so proud of myself for improivng so much look at my art, and a part of me goes, awh yes! my theorys proven working on art for yourself improves and can cheer you up, another goes, yesnow i must draw to show how good i am and show how i too feel fulfilled by drawing but also make it about me by weeping how i hate drawing myself. literally smths wrong w me seeing others pot abt their midrift, or learning to accept their curves or drawing themselves or smth, and theres a gremlin of me going like yeah but i cant draw myself bc i tried once and it looks like shit and ill only highlight my flaws and im slightly afraid of someone saying it looks exactly like me or other dumb shit, or i dont have curves to accept bcim not big hip big thic thigh girl im just. my legs are big but mostly ugly bc of the skin on them not bc of their size (ankles tho oof) and i have no hips i have no butt bc it allwent to my stoamch thats also ugly and my broad   badly postured back thats also ugly w these spots and marks and scars soon probably. and saggy boobs dont forget those. bc theyre literally fat sacks aiming for the ground i guess. anyway. no cute curves,  no beautiful skin no nth its just tough and i cant help but feel the negativity towards myself in almost every glimpse of someone elses positivity. i dont always air it which would be horrible of me to do, but its still there. making their happiness about my misery. maxx loves their boyfriend?> i hate them bc i dont like him and its rining it> i hate them havingsuch a dreamy but fake seeming ‘soulmate’ relationship bc its not true and i think itll end up terribly> im neveer gonna have that and im jealous of them i guess having someone theyd dedicate so much to and who loves them so much theyre all over the place making sappy things> well theyre an oveer romantic whod do it over the smallest things this wasnt a great example. 

anyway yeah extra note, even if i felt comfortable enough for sex im not comfortable enough in my body for that and idk how thats relevant to anything but i guess thats smth id also talk w a therapist abt whod probably tell me, then dont have sex! like yeah thats my plan.but im talking never gonna be able to form a relationship bc even having a friend for a sleepover makes me uncomfortable having them see me in an uncontrolled clothed position. u feel. 

anyway i have a lot of little problems that amount and i guess when i start addressing one the rest pop up their ugly heads and this is why i never getanywhere. this all comes from  how shitty i feel from how i have literally not even 3 full days to complete those tasks and pass, and i know i need to, though nothing in me actually feels like itll actually do the work u know, that spiraled through that chat into privilige of being at school and how i should tryy a bit that turned to im priviliged to be smart to pass and in my talent in art despite not being an artist that spiraled to another way i disliked myself and thats my fucked relations to myself my body and relationships (esp including me that dont exist)  

side note, though no surprise if for some ungodly reason youve read this shit i wrote at 8.30 am when i have a docs appointment abt my very ugly skin at 12.45 i over share. easily. if somseone asks id give them all. look at this. even in that chat i spiraled from, hah fun fucked up thing im almost failing my course bc im a shit, to my  heads filled with fuzz and i hate that i cant live up to my potentia. and im surprised how much i like this one guy, though who with his character ripped into my athena and make me question all my smartness, really makes me feel better ooc??? like theyre genuinely nice and just too informed and funny and playing the dick for a very well thought out reason (drunk doesnt mean it etc) and while the sociopath gal is giving me the side eye after they tried to help but figured out im a prviliged kid whos in school for free and not making the most of it and how easy school has been forme when for them despite their hard efforts they failed high school.u know not reallly helping kinda making me fele worse bc i know i should be doing better and could be and not only bc i have a priviliged opportuntity to and ability, i would benefit so much more if i did it for myself. but here comes by weird guy who slips on a freudian approach and claims they love helping ppl through their problems so i drop another overshare paragraph if he rly wanted to help but lighten it by taking thetopic off, he doesnt return and never address my post bc now its onto talking abt the big rp thing. im not mad. i just, idk i kinda wanted their support, another poor stranger to inflict w my extremely troubled wordy lengthy and i guess complex thoughts and feelings and lack there of sometimes and other shit. 

anyway im not doing great but im gonna grab 3 hrs of sleep before the doc, come back, nap, go to ballet again, come back, ad.... do smth.. work. maybe. one can hope. i hate it will it actually work only time can tell and i hate myself already.ugh. i hate i hate im not okya with this why cant someone else deal w me for me. deal with all these feelings and botherings and make me do my work and be satisfied doing it and do it all in time and feel a little success and reward myself like i should for work done and not just when i want. idk. someone,t ake over my life, you might be better at it. help me dela with school that i currently hate the most even if im meant to end up a scholar or smth