#my boy has arrived thank fucking god. my life has meaning again

[desperatepleasures]

HASUMI!!!!!

[allophonicmess]

Too Sweet

Logan Howlett x fem!Reader

Act 3

Warnings: spoilers for Deadpool & Wolverine

This is a fluff chapter. Gotta give you guys some candy after all that angst

Word count 4.1 K

Life resumed as normal after that. Or as normal as it could be when you are suddenly placed in the new timeline. Logan kept getting confused by little details that were different to the life he had lived before. Professor X ? Sure he exists but he had hair. Cyclops? Oh yeah. He was just as annoying as he remembered. Who are the fucking Avengers and what sort of rich nerd was Tony Stark? And what about Jean?

“A hot red head with the telekinetic powers?” Wade hummed, pretending to be lost in thought. “Uh, no. UNLESS! Charles used to have a beautiful flowing mane that I don’t know about. He is turning grey, you know… but it suits him. Silver fox”              

So Jean was out of the picture. That was good, right?

Logan groaned at Wade's bad joke. He shifted his focus outside, watching the landscape change from looming tall skyscrapers to even fields and trees that started changing colour with the season. It reminded him of home.

“Just to get this straight.” Logan shifted in his seat. The car that Wade had bought from the dealership had been heavily discounted and Logan now understood why. You would think it can’t get worse than the Odyssey? Oh boy, were you wrong. It was too small for 4 people, let alone 2 mutant men. He already felt sorry for whoever might have to sit in the back for whatever reason.

“Y/N has powers?” Logan asked, trying to play it cool. The whole drive had been a big Q&A.

“Yup,” Wade said with a pop. One hand on the steering wheel and the rest of him laid back in his seat.

“They call her Osmium, too?” Logan didn’t like this dependency on the wanna-be hero. But he had to make a good first impression.

“Osmimimum? Uh no. She is called Atom” Wade laughed “Don’t if she actually does stuff with atoms… It's more like…” Wade groaned as he tried to think of an example.

“She manipulates density.” Logan pointed out. They had trained together many times. But Y/n was never allowed to use her full potential with the X-men. They condemned violence and so she was often left out on mission and focused on keeping the school running.

“Ugh- I guess? She once told me in great, boring detail why ‘Atom’ is a bad superhero name for her but they kept it for the marketability. “ He shrugged “Oh! I remember that one time we stopped a child-mutant trafficking and she got mad, like REAL MAD, and then she turned this one guy into goop.” Wade nodded fondly, thinking back at that moment. “And I mean like Nickelodeon kids choice award goop, like slurpable slushy goo, like-“

“Okay, alright! I get it.” Logan groaned in annoyance. Shaking his head at Wade. He was thankful for the man’s support and friendship but god was he annoying. Constantly.

“I wish she would do that to me sometime. It’s on my ways-to-die bingo. But she keeps refusing!” Deadpool hit the wheel dramatically.

“You are disgusting,” Logan stated dryly. “The most disgusting person I ever met.”

“Don’t forget the most annoying!”

...

The decision to go back to teaching was not made out of fun or for the joy of doing it. Maybe partially, even though Logan would not openly confess so. It was made out of necessity. Living with Wade and Al became tiresome after the first few weeks. It was always the same antiques, the lack of schedule as well as a constant state of chaos that made him crave the ordered life at the school once again. He hoped that it would give him a sense of belonging. The X-men might be different here, with a few quips and details that didn’t match with his reality. But living at the school would tie him to a strict schedule and by god, he needed some structure in his life.

 But all in all, it meant home.

“Okay, peanut. Today is a big day. But I know you’ll do great and meet a lot of new friends.” Wade joked in a motherly tone as they arrived at the Mansion. “And no hair pulling or biting unless they ask for it, okay?”

“I can’t wait to be rid of you” Logan groaned as the car came to a halt. He exited the car with a low groan, stretching to lose stiffed muscles. Not having to constantly ride in Wade's joke of a car was another reason that he preferred living at Xavier’s Institution. Speaking off:

“There you are. Welcome, welcome.” Xavier rolled into the mansions yard.

“A pleasure to have you, Logan. I must say, I was very pleasantly surprised when I received your response to my inquiry.” He moved towards Logan, offering his hand for a handshake.

Logan inspected the man. He was older, in his 40s maybe. But younger than the Charles Xavier he had worked with. He sported shaggy longer hair that was starting to thin out. Soon he would need to get it trimmed to keep his professional exterior. Along with a beard that was rather spotty and seemed too reminisce of his look in the 70s. Xavier looked like a mix of the two versions that Logan got to meet during his time at the school and it made him wonder how time worked here. Events seemed to play out in different order, they didn’t happen at all or much later than seemed correct.

He shook Xavier’s hand, thanking him for the offer. “Of course. I was surprised when you contacted me.” Logan confessed. His gaze shifted towards the grand building in front of him. It was the same old English style build that he knew, with a few modern elements added here and there.

“Is it familiar to you? The school? I assume you have experienced quite a few dejá-vus since arriving here.” Charles observed Logan.

“I do. Some things are the same. Others don’t match what I know or didn’t happen at all.” He confessed. Already feeling the brother connection build, similar to the one he had with the other Charles.

“You will find your answers. I am sure of it.” Charles turned around motioning Logan to follow him inside. “I think it is best if we continue this conversation in my office.” He looked over his shoulder at Wade, who had waited in the car, listening in on the conversation.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll be on my way. You call me if you need to get picked up, Pookie!” He waved at Logan in a motherly way.

“You aren’t coming?” He asked, somewhat confused. But then he saw Charle’s face, the intense stare he gave Wade.

“Uhhh, no I technically have a house ban for no apparent reason-“

“You burned down the west wing” Charles answered dryly.

Wade clicked his tongue, “Right, okay. Yeah… But! It’s very modern now.” He chuckled weakly. “You’ll still call me up for a mission, right?” He tried to persuade the professor.

“If the mission takes place outside of my building then yes.” Charles agreed, focusing back on Logan. And leading him inside. Neither of them commented on the cheer that Wade gave as he drove off.

Being back at the school felt surprisingly good to Logan. It was like coming back from a long holiday. Most everything was the same: Students running in the hallways, playing games in the gardens and-

“Fancy seeing you here!”

Logan turned around quickly, looking for whoever addressed him. Some children were buzzing along the halls, none of them too interested in him. Then he spotted her by the stairs. Leaning onto the dark wooden rails of the gallery. The light from the window behind her illuminating her figure.

“Y/n”, he breathed.

“Hi! Charles told me that you wanted to start teaching again.” She made her way downstairs, focus shifting between not falling and keeping her gaze on him. She seemed pleasantly surprised to see him.

He turned more toward her, watching her get closer to ground level. With each step he felt his excitement grow “He contacted me, actually. Asked whether I wanted to work here…”

“Oh really? What a coincidence ”She grinned mischievously, stopping at the end of the stairs and leaning on one of the bannisters. She kept a little space between them. There might be some familiarity between them but she didn’t want to push him too far yet and give him the chance to get closer to her if he felt like it.

But Logan stayed in place: “Do you have anything to do with that?”

She smirked,  and he felt some of his charm return to him . He might be rusty but some things were just engraved in him.

“Maybe” She shrugged, smiling softly with a playful sparkle in her eyes “But I’m assuming that you won’t be teaching history, right?” Y/n teased carefully. The multiverse situation was a thing she wanted to be careful about. Wade had told her a little bit about what had happened to Logan before he transferred but she didn’t know any details.  

“No, I teach PE and defence classes. You do science, right?” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, hoping to lose the tension in his body. He threw the tidbit of knowledge into the conversation, hoping that he was right and that the two versions of her had that much in common.

“Chemistry and Literature, yeah.” She smiled. She then looked at her watch before pointing towards another corridor with a sigh “I’d love to talk more, but I need to get to class. Maybe we could meet sometime.” She secured the book in her arms.

“Yes.” He answered with a stiff nod, his hands were getting sweaty.

They stood In awkward silence.

“Maybe over a coffee?” She asked, looking up at him, her lip curled upwards. Her look became more expecting as he watched her in silence.

 He would catch the bait she just threw, right? Scott had laughed when she asked him about what Logan had been like; What this version might be like.

 ‘He’s an asshole’ He said ‘a cocky asshole and who thinks he can charm any girl he likes’ she blushed at that comment ‘But he is into the dark, mysterious type if that is what you are after’

“Maybe”, Logan gave  cold and curtly.

He regretted his demeanor when he saw her smile slip for just a moment.

Fuck.

Her face slipped for a moment “Oh.. okay.” She huffed softly. “See you around then.” Y/n nodded quickly before running off.

...

A routine established itself after the first weeks back at the school. The work there itself was the same. Teach the children standard curricula, training them in controlling their powers and some extracurricular activities.

He would spend some evenings with the other members of Team X ,as they called themselves here. Sometimes he would meet Y/n in the hallway but he didn’t work up the courage to stop and talk to her beyond a quick ‘hello’.

What is wrong with you? You used to sweep women off their feet. She is offering herself to you at any chance and you still can’t manage to ask her out?

He sighed as he changed back into his regular clothes. The class had just ended. It was Friday, still fairly warm for October and the trees looked beautiful in all shades of red, orange and yellow.

 Would be perfect for a romantic walk… A charming, rugged man could ask a woman out for that.

“That guy died a long time ago…” He mumbled to himself. Picking up his bag and closing the locker.

He exited the gym, making his way to his room or rather apartment. Wade managed to burn down the teacher's quarters along with the kitchens and cafeteria in some wicked stunt. No one knew what happened and that was for the best, he guessed.

However, that incident resulted in a modernized reconstruction with more spacious rooms for the teachers and a communal cafeteria that students and members of Team X shared.  Great for extroverts but Logan had to pass it every time he went to his rooms, much to his dismay. To make it worse,  the communal space was separate from the hall via a glass wall, allowing for a perfect view of everyone who tried to sneak past. Which led to uncomfortable situations such as this.

“Logan!” Piotr called, waving his huge metallic arm to get the other man's attention. Logan's initial reaction was to ignore him as he had done many times with the members of his old team.

No, he wanted to do better. He needed to. It was that kind of behavior that made him spiral in the first place. So he took a deep breath and channeled all jolliness available to him after 6 hours of teaching and a generally low level of it to begin with.  He slowly made his way towards the teacher's table.

“Come, eat with us.” Piotr offered him the seat next to him on the thick wooden bench. A seat opposite of… fuck- of fucking course he was in on Wade’s plan to play matchmaker.

 “We can’t have you get scrawny, eh?” he joked.

“Not that that would be likely to occur” Y/n joked as Logan sat down. His look snapped towards her and her eyes widened in shock at what had just come out of her mouth.

A knowing, wicked grin spread across Colossus's face. That fucking asshole…

“What are we having?” Logan asked, ignoring the situation that had just occurred. He tried to keep his gaze on Piotr who was busy filling a plate with whatever was in the big metal pot on the side of the table. His eyes shifted to Y/n every so often.

“Pierogi. I am trying out new recipes for a cooking class with my students” He said proudly, placing the plate in front of Logan “Y/n said, they are very good. Right?” He asked her, putting the woman on the spot.

“Oh, uhm…yeah. I like the new… stuffing.” She said, the answer sounding more like a question, carefully looking at Logan when he tried it. She was thankful for Piotr’s brotherly demeanor and gentle nature. Yet sometimes he would tease her as any older brother liked to do. And they sure liked to do it in front of people that the younger sibling might fancy.

Logan nodded in agreement, complimenting the man for his cooking.

“You cook here regularly?” He asked with a mouthful.

“Of course! Cooking is a very important life skill. As well as baking. You should join one of Y/n’s baking classes, she is very talented.” Colossus complimented the woman, making her grin.

“I plan on holding a workshop on the weekend for older students and alumni. You should come.” She offered, a hopeful look in her eyes. Maybe she was too discrete the last time she tried to get Logan to ask her out. So this time she tried to be more direct with her offer.

“I don’t bake,” Logan answered in a backhanded comment as he continued to eat. He didn’t think too much about it. He had planned to ask her out after lunch. He was overly focused on what he would say to her once the others left to notice how he had sounded.

It only occurred to him when he saw how Y/n visibly deflated. “Oh, right” She hummed, swallowing another bite of her food, eyes looking anywhere but towards the man who had once again rejected her so swiftly.

Piotr, just sighed with disappointment, leaning back in his chair. His hard elbow bumped into Logan’s side.

You fucked it up. Again.

...

“Okay, stop. You mean to tell me that she tried to ask you out not once but TWICE and you rejected her?” Wade paced through the living room. Trying to make sense of what his friend had just told him. “You mean to tell me that you now spend 3 months at that school? Being in her proximity 24/7 and actively avoiding her?”

Logan sat on the familiar black couch that looked even more beaten up than the last time he was at the flat. With disgust, he realized that he didn’t even want to know what caused the new damage.

 “I don’t avoid her”

“Oh no? And yet the few times she does catch you creeping in the halls you manage to scare her off.” Deadpool said down one of the rotatable bar chairs. Swirling dramatically.

“No wonder the girl’s not interested in a sad drunk fuck like you,” Al commented from the table where she sat, carefully packaging her newest acquisition of sellable goods.

“ No, Al that’s the thing! The girl wants him DESPITE being a sad drunk fuck!”  Wade jumped from the chair to pace around some more. He had to come up with a plan to get the two to spend time together, and get to know each other better. Create some closeness to let the sparks fly and catch on.

“That’s even worse.” Al laughed, snoring.

“Thank you for the compliments… Reassuring.” Logan groaned, regretting to even have answered Wade when he asked him about how things were going with Y/n. Maybe he wasn’t ready to be with someone again. He liked her and wanted to get to know her but something was stopping him. The urge to protect her from danger and he still thought of himself as the greatest danger to her and his team.

“On the other hand, she is still interested after being rejected TWICE. So you still have a chance, Pookie.” Wade said, sitting down next to Logan, yet again way too close.

“I’m gonna help you, buddy, Don’t you worry.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing Logan's ears “Act three needs some lovin’ and I make sure you get all the loving you need, baby” He whispered towards Logan. And with dread, and a bit of disgust,  Logan accepted that he had no chance of stopping the man.

...

By the time the midterms rolled around, Logan had gotten familiar with the schedule and his  profession once again. He slept better, tended to snap less at people and even his drinking tendencies seemed to get better. Being part of a community felt good and it made him angry at his younger self for rejecting the people who loved him out of some ill-placed ideology: that to keep them safe, he had to distance himself from them.

And yet you are doing it again.

He sighed as he trotted into the community kitchen. He broke his coffee maker in a fit of frustration last week and hadn’t found the time or energy to tell Charles to get a new one. He stayed out of the professor's way for the most part, not wanting to be roped into some conversation about ‘needing therapy’. So he sourced his caffeine intake from the machine that sat in the big, homely department kitchen. Another benefit was that there was always a fresh pot ready and waiting for him. Downside, there were almost always people in the kitchen, waiting for others to join in for conversation and breakfast.

This morning he should be safe from conversation. Most students and some staff went home for the fall semester break, leaving the school running on a minimal level to accommodate those who had no home to go to. There were no classes, meaning that the school apparatus calmed to a halt.

In practice that meant that almost everyone slept in with no pressure to get up early. And for Logan, that meant that he could enjoy his drink in peace before people tried to talk to him.

Lost in thought he strolled into the kitchen. It seemed empty, thank god. He sighed in relief, stretching languidly. The air exiting his lungs in a low groan.

Then a soft click sounded through the room.

A fridge being closed.

“Oh hey, you’re up early.” Y/n appeared behind the full-size fridge door that had previously shielded her from his view. She looked a little tired, not yet fully awake and a bit tousled from sleep.

Aww C’mon. Maybe Wade was right about the universe wanting them to come together. But primarily to annoy him and allow for Wade to give him the ‘I told you so’ speech.

“So are you.”  He answered, leaving on the door frame and watching her pour some creamer into her cup. Upon closer inspection, she did look younger than her other iteration. Her features were softer looking with fewer wrinkles and scars. He needed to ask her about that at some point.

She leaned onto the counter to reach for another cup, taking it out of the overhead cabinet. Proceeding to pour some coffee in it. “How do you take your coffee?” She asked, turning towards him.

“I’ll take two sugars” He answered, moving towards her with slow even steps. The threat of Wade’s ‘help’ kept looming in the back of his mind, pushing him to be more open towards her and to come out of his shell. Who knows what that maniac had in mind?

Y/n hummed in agreement, dropping in two cubes of sugar and stirring the dark liquid before handing it to Logan.

He thanked her softly, holding the porcelain with his much larger hands. He had moved quite close to her, both leaning against the kitchen counter. The closeness and difference in height between them meant that Y/n had to look up to him, to make eye contact.

With a grin he noticed how she shifted her stand, one hand bunching up the material of her cardigan.

You still got it if you let it happen, man.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying their drinks and watching the sun paint pictures onto the kitchen surfaces, colored by the stained glass windows.

She was the one who broke the silence. “Are you ready for the training session today?” She asked, turning towards him, shifting her position so that her hip was pressed against the counter.

“Training?” He asked confused, setting down his cup to cross his arms over his chest, the muscles shifting visibly under his skin.

That’s right! Show her what you got!

“Yes, staff training? We got the call from Washington about a mutant security threat. Charles wants us to be ready just in case. Do you read your emails?” She teased, watching him over the rim of her mug.

“I don’t know how that stuff works if I’m honest with ya.” He shrugged “Do you go on missions regularly? On Government orders?” He remembered that Xavier had mentioned something along the lines of that. Some complicated struggles between heroes about government regulation and so on.

“Yes, after the blip it was decided that an X-team force should be established to take care of mutant-related threats or endangerments.” She explained.

He had heard of that, too. “Right. What was that blip again?”

The energy in the room shifted suddenly.

Y/n huffed, almost spilling a bit of her drink. “Ha, that’s a bit of a heavy topic for morning coffee talks.” She looked around uncomfortably. Logan seems to have hit upon a heavy subject.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He apologized quickly. Beating himself up for screwing it up once again.

“No, no it’s fine.” She shook her head, setting down her drink to cross her arms as he did. Only that she seemed to do it defensively. “Half of all life stopped existing for five years and… that left a few scars.” She explained somberly, softly nodding to herself.

Logan blinked, his mind moving at high speed to get the conversation on a good topic again. Anything to turn it around and to prevent her from having a bitter aftertaste to their first proper talk.

Yet it was her, once again, that stepped up. She noticed how he got nervous, eyes wandering, shoulders sagging.

“I’ll explain it to you later. When we are not so pressed on time.” She reached out slowly, placing her hand on his arm, squeezing it in reassurance. Y/n smiled at him softly, moving around him to exit the kitchen and prepare for the day ahead.

Without thinking Logan placed a hand over hers, just in time before she pulled hers away. It had her stop in her tracks. Her eyes moved to where his rough callused palm warmed the back of her hand, up to his eyes. He was watching her with intention.

She was nervous. This was either going to be an invitation to finally get to know him or he had enough of her and told her to stop fancying him.

“You can explain it to me on a walk to the lake? Tonight?” He asked, one eyebrow raising in question. His hand squeezed hers gently.

A second of silence followed.

She exhaled, the stress leaving her body but she had to keep her composure. A grin spread across her face “Sounds like a plan.” She held eye contact for a few beats, then let her hand slip out of his hold as she left.

That’s how you do it, Tiger!

Her lips pressed together to keep from smiling too hard as she exited the hallway.

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[petrichor-idyllic]

Can u do Minho x reader where reader is just gawking at minhos arms and he catches her 🤭 it can be a gender neutral reader with spice ☝🏽

Alright, alright, I know, I have been very MIA, very sorry, life is a lot atm.

But this request is an easy one, so I'm tryna get through the easy ones. (Totally not cause I'm procrastinating a massive request and have fallen back into my OBX phase or anything shhh)

BEST FEATURE

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. GN! Reader x Minho. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, you're a simp, sorry, spice.

You like to pretend that you're a level headed and controlled person. That things such as desire or general human nature don't faze you and you're focused on work and helping around the Glade.

And, for the most part - that is completely believable.

Mainly because Minho is always out in the Maze. Thank God.

Because every time you guys are in the same room, you can't take your eyes off of him. His shoulders, his back, his weirdly perfect hair, that stupid blue shirt that just clings to him in the best way- and his arms.

(Something you and a specific future Greenie and ex-WCKD member would have in common.)

His arms.

His fucking arms, man.

You just can't help yourself. He walks back into the Glade every day, sweaty and dishevelled, his blue shirt sleeves rolled up as he casually glances at you as he walks past. Sometimes, you swear he walks past you on purpose .

Newt suspects you purposely hang around the Map Room so he has to.

It's been months, and you just can't seem to force yourself to get over it. You've tried, but Minho is the hottest guy in the Glade.

You're fucked, basically.

That is no different when it comes to Bonfire night. A new Greenie pops up, every gets hammered, Gally gets in a fight, Alby looks like he's gonna have a stroke.

But it's all in good fun.

Minho doesn't normally join in the festivities. He's a very stressed individual. Sometimes, you think about attempting to convince him to join in so he can let off some steam, but you don't.

I mean, most of your thoughts are about him letting off some steam. If you get what I mean.

But, this specific night, somehow, Newt, the absolute Lord and saviour he is, has managed to convince Minho to play a game of beer pong.

Well, not beer pong, but "Gally's suspicious special brew pong" is a bit of a mouthful.

You sit at the sides with a couple of boys, watching Minho laugh along as he throws a ball (a screwed up piece of tinfoil) into a cup across the table. Cheers break out in his success, but you just stare.

Minho's arms flex under his shirt, the curve of his upper arm visible through his shirt, his forearm tenses as he goes to throw the ball agsin you swear you can see the blood pumping veins from here.

"You're drooling, mate." You're snapped back to reality as you look at Newt, who passes you a drink.

"Huh?" You catch on. "What? No - I'm not." You attempt to lie, but the heat rising through your face is a bit of a hint.

"Yeah - you are. As always."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means." You look away in respond, groaning as you rub your face with your hands.

"Shut up."

Newt snorts at this, rubbing your back with a mocking "There, there."

You want to punch him.

"Yo, (Y/N)!" You look up, heat rising in your face as Minho shouts you. "Ben just bailed on us, you wanna take his place?"

You open your mouth to speak, but your words catch in your throat, causing Newt to cringe in second hand embarrassment.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbles. "Yeah! They'd love to join." He nudges you. "Right?"

You clearly your throat. "Uh, yeah? Yeah."

Minho chuckles at this. "Come on, then."

You look at Newt again, as he nods his head to go join. Awkwardly, you stand up, walking over to join Minho's team.

"You know how to play?" He asks you.

"Uh, yeah- yeah, I know how to play." You attempt to sound confident.

"Cool - I should shuckin' hope so, you've been watching like a hawk." Oh God, he noticed. He noticed you staring. Hopefully, you can play it off as just being interested in the game.

"Y-yeah. Looked like you guys were having fun."

Please don't notice. Please don't notice. Please don't notice.

Please.

Minho's eyes flicker down you, almost like he's examining you, but also like he's drinking in your appearance, a slight smirk playing on his lips before he looks you in the eyes again. "Uh, huh."

Oh, God.

You immediately look away as another Glader passes you the ball for your turn. You miss, instantly as your body feels flushed, and then the game continues.

This goes on for quite some time.

You would think that any normal person would look away, now. I mean, Minho has noticed and Newt is undoubtedly going to bully you for it later. But, you are not that person, and you just can't help yourself.

Up close and personal, Minho looks like a God carved him out of stone. And when it's his turn, your eyes fall on his arms.

Because of course they do.

The way he rolls his sleeves up further, his muscles tensing, his veins flexing as you follow them down his forearms and down the back of his strong hands. You're seeing stars and your brain feels fuzzy.

"You good?" Minho's voice snaps you back to reality once again. Your eyes flicker to his face, his eyes narrowing as a smirk creeps across his face.

"Yep."

"You were staring."

"No, I wasn't." You say a bit too quickly, making his smirk turn into a grin.

"You sure about that? Positive you were just, checking me out?"

You blink at him, your face rising in heat.

"Yo," Clint snorts, having been also playing the game. "You were perving on Minho?" He drapes an arm over your shoulder, clearly drunk, but the implication making you more flustered.

"What? N-no. No. I wasn't."

"Mhm - I'm sure he doesn't mind." Clint snorts.

"Yeah, I don't mind." Minho agrees, grinning.

"I wasn't!" You attempt to defend yourself. "Ugh, shuck this." You grow irritated, shoving Clint's arm off. "I've had enough of this game."

You say, starting to walk away.

"What?" Minho's smile drops as he shouts after you. "We were just messing around! (Y/N)!" He huffs, dropping his head, watching you walk away. "Shuck's sake." He mumbles under his breath.

Newt, who has been watching the whole thing, stands from his seat and walks over. "Go on."

"What?" Minho asks.

"Go after them. I'll take your spot."

"Dude- why would I-?"

"Shut up, shank - you know you're just as bad."

Minho freezes at this, blinking at Newt.

Well, he's not wrong.

Minho has been listing after you for about just as long as you have him. And Newt has more social awareness skills than the both of you combined.

Minho huffs, but he turns on his heels, following after you, jogging to catch up as you make your way to the Deadheads.

"Yo! Hey! Wait up!" He says, slowing to a walk.

"Why? So, you can bully me again because you thought I was checking you out?" You snarl, mainly out of pure embarrassment.

"...But you were checking me out."

"No-"

"Yes."

"Fine! Whatever!" You throw your hands up in frustration. "I was checking you out! Big shuckin' deal! I can't help it, okay?"

Minho blinks, not expecting the sudden out burst. "Okay."

"Okay? Cool, okay? It's not my fault that you're hot, okay? A-and it's not fair that you look that good! All the time! Like, how is that fair? And how the fuck is your hair always flawless? You run for miles everyday - and somehow, you look like you've escaped Vogue! And your arms... how am I meant to even pretend to cope, you prick?"

Minho blankly stands there. "You done?"

You blink at him. "Yeah, I think so."

Minho slowly nods, stepping towards you as you both stand near the edge of the Deadheads, the drama of the Bonfire a now distant memory as he stands in front of you. He's so close and tall and generally intimidating in a way you shouldn't find attractive.

"So, you like my arms, then?" Minho acts, clearly enjoying the not needed ego boost. All you can do is blankly look at him.

What the hell is happening here?

"Do you?" You nod in response, slowly and unsure. "Okay, you can touch them, if you want?"

Your brain has melted and burnt. "...What?"

Minho huffs, simply grabbing your hand and putting it on his arm. You eyelids flutter, swapping between his face and his arm. "Don't be scared." He murmers.

Slowly, you drag your fingers down the fabric of his sun faded blue button up over his bicep, feeling the muscle and the curves of his left arm, tracing delicate shapes over the material. You move further down, passing the threshold where the fabric stops and the bare skin of his forearm starts.

To your surprise, Minho's breath hitches slightly at the contact. This is the first time you've ever touched him, and even he didn't expect the feeling to send chills down his spine and goosebumps dance on his skin. Your palm contacts with his forearm, rubbing down to his hand, feeling the visible veins as he creeps closer to you.

Your eyes go from his arm to his face, flickering to his lips as he stands directly in front of you. He becomes bold, raising his arm, your hand still loosely around his wrist as he touches your cheek. Slowly, he closes the gap.

Your chest feels like it's about to explode as his lips comnect with yours. He breaks the kiss, trying to figure out your reaction, but when you kiss him again, he takes the hint.

He's slightly taken aback from the passion and the heat, humming against your lips unintentionally as he kisses back. You're letting out the months of tension you've been feeling, your hands coming around his shoulders, feeling the muscles and caressing the tops of his arms as he backs you into a tree.

You gasp, your back hitting the back as he pushes his body against, his hands grasping at your sides. It seems that the kiss gave him all the answers he needed. His hands move down before slipping under your shirt and brushing at your bare skin - almost like he's becoming desperate for direct contact.

Pushing yourself forward, you can already feel Minho through his trousers, the kiss already getting him worked up.

For a second, you genuinely consider just letting him take you then and there when Newt clears his throat.

You both snap in the direction of the blond boy. Minho's chest rises and falls as you look away, using Minho's shoulder to hide yourself from your friend.

"As much as I hate to interrupt - but let's be real, this has been a long time coming, the others want you back at the game because apparently I have klunky aim." Newt shoves his hands in his pockets, casually rocking on his heels.

"Are you serious, right now?" Minho asks as you pant into his shoulder, clearly able to maintain his composure better than you.

"Yeah." Newt responds. "And I don't think Alby will be happy if he finds his favourite Runner fooling around in public."

Minho looks at him, before dropping his head. "Alright, give me a second."

"What? Need a moment to calm down?" Newt teases.

"Shut your shank mouth."

Even you can't help but chuckle at this as Minho starts to grin before sighing and stepping back. "I'll uh, I'll catch you later, maybe?"

A half-smile creeps across your face and you nod, your heart banging against your ribcage. "Yeah - yeah, sounds good."

"Good that." He slowly steps back, smiling at you as he walks over to Newt.

"You good?" Newt snickers at his friend. "Sure you can walk straight so lightheaded? I mean, lack of blood to the brain is a bad thing. Especially when-"

"Shut the shuck up, Newt."

Ahhhh I'm back. Kinda.

Don't bet on it.

But anyway, I've actually written something for the first time in weeks.

Hope y'all enjoy :))

[juliasturnz]

“My teenage dream”

🜸 - this fanfic is requested again, @monroesturnns !! Make sure to follow her!♥️

★ - summary:

you and Chris haven’t been more then just friends.. you always had a crush on him, later that night you and Chris have a really deep conversation and some things don’t go as planned.

༆ - warnings!:

kissing, cussing, slightly sexual touch and use of alcohol (lmk if there is something else that triggers u!)

✫彡 - writers note :)

hi guys i just wanted to thank you all for the nice comments and follows, it means alooott thank you again 💖

★ - other role again!:

good friend chloe.. Good friend? Idrk she is js the type to leave you behind at a party..

⋆｡ﾟ☁��｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡

You are going to this huuuge party, it’s so exiting but you haven’t been to a party in a long time so you have no idea what to expect.

You are wearing something that will make a guy completely crazy.. a mini dress and your ass-cheeks are slightly visible. You’d always love to dress that way and you still do, but this old friend of yours is organizing it, he has always been nice to me but something is just feeling different.

Chloe has been texting you nonstop, ‘stop fucking texting me, oh my god!’ You say when she send you at least more then 10 messages. She has been telling you about the party for a hour long, ‘I’m getting ready rn I’ll be there in a half hour.’ You send her a voice message, I don’t feel like typing rn bc the black wand from my mascara is basically glued in my hands. Even when you send a voice message she just ignores you and talks further about boys and again the party.

When you finally type ‘I’m done’ to your yapping friend she finally stops talking, ‘okay I’ll be there in 20 minutes!’ She yells through a voice message. Your phone finally has been stop going off, until a familiar number pops up it’s Chris. You are texting with him while your doing your last things like putting on a perfume, checking your bag if you have everything and a few things more. Only a little time was left and he asks you if you want to face time.

‘Hey Chris, how r you!’ You act like you haven’t been talking the last 10 minutes, you kinda forget how well you guys went along and he basically starts acting with you ‘oh I haven’t spoken you in a long time y/n how are you?’ He looks at you through the phone with a little grin right before you two start busting out laughing. ‘Do you wanna take a little shot before the party?’ he asks you with a smile on his face. You take a good look at his face, hm he hasn’t changed a lot only his hair. You catch yourself looking at his blue eyes through the screen. ‘Oh wow.’ You cover your mouth when you realize you said that out loud. ‘Huh? Is there something wrong?’ He looks at you with a confused face and give you a little smile. Oh fuck do you think he noticed. Before you freak out and just stand there in silence you hear a ring from the doorbell. ‘I-I am sorry Chloe is here I’ll see you at the party bye!’ ‘Oh uh bye!’ I really hope I didn’t make thing weird.

Before you could even open the door someone has been screaming on the streets ‘hurry up we gotta go!’ You hear her high pitched voice so you hurry up before she starts yelling. ‘On my way!’ I think she heard me at least I hope so.

when you arrive at the front door she’s already speaking about the party and the fact that we have to hurry even though we had about 10 minutes left. ‘Can you hurry? We need to go there quick!’ ‘Chloe we have literally 10 mi’- she interrupts you immediately ‘no? We need to hurry like right now!’ ‘Girl calm down’ you whisper to yourself, you definitely don’t want her to hear what you were saying, bc that would 100% cause drama.

you put on one last time your favorite cologne and again deodorant and leave the house with Chloe talking about boys once again. ‘Girl you need a man in your life, you’re kinda boring.’ She casually says and turns around to your face completely in shock. What did she just say? ‘You heard me, we are going to find you a man tn.’ ‘What I don’t n’- once again she cuts you off

The rest of the car ride y’all stay silent which is surprising, normally Chloe would be either talking shit, brag about her “amazing” boyfriend or either talk about parties.

You arrive at Chris’ big house, ‘dang this mf has a big house!’ You stand right in front of a big mansion with already drunk teenagers in the front yard and the sound of music that hits your ears. ‘This is gonna be amazing!!!!’ Chloe is literally screaming. You just follow her in silence to the front door.

Before you could even ask her a thing she is already standing with her “amazing” boyfriend and her other friends, you look around to find someone to talk to bc no way your going to be standing with them. You look around and catch a glance from someone across the room and the someone is Chris. He looks so good, even tho he only wears a pair of baggy pants, a see through blouse with a light blue tie. Just perfect. He catches you looking at him and walks over to you. He is only a few inches away from you when you start apologizing right away, he makes you nervous. ‘Look I’m so sorry about what happened when we’- ‘shhh it’s okay, don’t think about it too much. I know you stared at my eyes,’ ‘well yes your eyes are pretty gorgeous.’ You look at him with a little shy but a naughty smile on your face. ‘Should we take that shot then?’ You follow him into the kitchen.

It isn’t really busy in here, but you’ve never seen this much red plastic cups around you. Chris catches your looking around mostly at the amount of red cups that are just laying around. ‘Please don’t mind this fucking mess.’ He kinda looks disappointed, ‘the way you said that sounds promising.’ You grin at his face still scanning almost every cup. ‘Anyways should we do 3 vodka shots?’ ‘Sounds good to me.’ You give him a warm smile as he fills the fancy shot glasses.

He hands you the pretty full shot glasses and looks at you and says ‘to the pretty woman in front of me.’ You blink twice, did he really said that oh my god. ‘You heard me.’ You giggle at his reaction and let the strong drink fall back into your throat. ‘This shit is disgusting.’ ‘Do you want a martini? I can make one for you.’ ‘Oh okay mr bartender.’ He giggles at your reaction.

You drink your martini while he has just a casual Pepsi, ‘so what brings you here tonight?’ He looks up at you with a very flirtatious look, ‘tbh like actually, even though my “friend” dragged me into here.. you.’ You keep looking at his now lightened up eyes. You can’t help but stare at them for a while. He interrupts your intense look, ‘wait what do you mean “friend”?’ He always seems to aks you things in a deeper level, something always felt connected between the two of you. Well she’s just idk not really my friend idk what she is.’ He gives you a worried look, ‘it’s okay I’m here.’ He lays his hand on your shoulder, what makes you tingle by his touch. ‘Thank you.’ ‘Ofcourse anytime.’ your curiosity bottles up ‘why did you even invite Chloe in the first place, not to be rude but she isn’t nice at all.’ ‘Oh my god is your “friend” Chloe?’ ‘Yeah I guess, why?’ ‘She cheated on me.’ He blurred out. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to bring i’- you’re being interrupted by her storming into the kitchen. ‘Ugh I need more drinks,’ she looks everything but sober. ‘Oh no here come Chloe you need to rest.’ Chris helps you with her, you bring her upstairs to a free bedroom. ‘What a surprise.’ He stands in the doorway after he helped you let her lay down in a strangers bed, kind of waiting for you and watching you while you tuck Chloe into a strangers bed. ‘I’m so sorry about what she did.’ You turn your face to his face. ‘You don’t have to be sorry about this, but why are you even her friend, she’s such a dumbass.’ ‘She helped me through a rough time, but she became popular and she forgot about me.’ ‘Damn I’m sorry.’ He walks up to you and give you a hug out of nowhere. ‘It felt like you needed one.’ You sink into his shoulder and start sobbing out of thin air. ‘Hey hey, your okay your here with me come.’ He takes you to the bathroom to help you fix your perfectly done makeup.

‘You are really pretty you know that.’ You couldn’t focus on anything rn but his pink lips. ‘Oh your needy.’ He gives you a whole different tone. He leans into a kiss. You kiss him back right away. His hands fall on your waist and moves down to your thighs and while he squeezes them just the slightest bit. This was the best kiss you probably ever had. There is going so much through your head rn, “his lips are so soft” “he smells so good” “his lips taste just like vanilla” when you stop the most perfect kiss ever, you kind of wake up again. ‘You are a really good kisser mr bartender.’ You would never said this in any universe, it might be the drinks you had or the strong confidence you got while you were around him. ‘Am I? Should we get another drink then?’ You follow him to the kitchen again.

you surprisingly hold his hand while you walk through the dancing, drunk or smoking people. But trust me you definitely got eyes on you. When you and Chris reach the kitchen you fall back into the cheating topic, your friend. ‘And then she just cheated on me.’ You catch a little tear that flows down his cheek. ‘I’m so sorry Chris, you honestly don’t deserve that.’ You get of the barstool and hug him tight and go with your fingers through his soft hair. ‘Do you wanna take a walk or smth?’ He removes his head from your shoulder. You nod right away, ‘don’t you got to focus on what’s happening inside of here?’ Your kind of worried someone might literally burn the house down. ‘They’ll be alright the most of them are drunk anyway or Nick and Matt will take care of it, I hope so.’ he shrugs his shoulders and takes a Pepsi. ‘Oh okay then, should we go?’ ‘Yes.’ He sticks his hand out and you and you hold his hand while you walk out of the front door, holding each others hand.

He takes you to a small beach just at the end of the block, ‘it’s beautiful here!’ You can’t help but keep looking around even though it’s already night. ‘I know right, this place brings me so much peace.��� You and Chris are still holding hands, he looks down at the hands holding each other and slightly squeezes your hand. He gives you that one smile you missed a lot. ‘I love your smile so much.’ His cheeks turn slightly pink in the bright moonlight. ‘Should we just sit down and talk, I just wanted to get away from those people. I don’t know why I invited the half of those people. I didn’t wanna be rude yk?’ ‘Trust me I know. He lets his hand go while you nod at his first question. You keep on knowing exactly what he means in different scenarios, ‘I know exactly what you mean.’ You can’t help but keep on saying.

You are having such a great time with Chris, you missed this a lot. You reach the topic from the friendship between you two. ‘I really missed this,’ he looks at you with a sudden serious look. He is speaking exactly what you thought not even 20 min ago. ‘I really did too.’ He looks at your lips and kisses you once again. ‘Y/n I really love you, but I can’t keep you on a friend level. You make me so happy, you know me on a different level and I feel so co’- you interrupt him what kinda makes you feel bad bc those words were so beautiful. ‘I wanna be your girlfriend Chris. Your little speech was so beautiful btw.’ That makes him giggle a bit. And he kisses you in the bright moonlight at the beach once again.

🜸 -

Hey beautiful human🤭 make sure to like this post and comment if you wanna be tagged in my upcoming fanfics! I love you so much, you are loved <3 take care!💋

Tags:

@chrisslut333 @chrissslut @chris-slut @chrissv4mp @chrisshotdog @hollandsangel @ineedchriscock @chaossturns @sturnslcver @stuniolvs @sturnioloshacker @sturniolonmc @sturniolo-fann @sturnioz @sturniololvrrr @sturnzsblog @sturnzsun @sturnsdoll @sturnsbaby @sturnsblunt @sturnsstars @sturnzwrld @sturnzyolo @sturnzluv @pepsiboyy @pvssychicken @p4lxouterbanks @strawberrysturniolo @bernardsbendystraws @whore4cherrycoke @strombolicious @urfavstromboli @mattsfavbitchhh @mattstattos @mattsturnswife @mattsgf @mattsdirtylittlehoe @hoeformatt @hoesformatt @monroesturnns

[night-daily]

Art is abstract | Robby Keene x reader

summary: Robby try (and fails) to bake brownies.

warnings: none.

a/n: not proof reading, sorry!

Living alone (well, if you count your mom staying the night with her boyfriends and leaving in the morning, then almost alone) made Robby learn things by himself, like cooking.

But that doesn't mean he was an expert, and oh boy, he wished he was skilled in the kitchen. Why was so hard to bake some brownies with a heart shape? He has been baking since morning and all he got until now was some fucking brownies with a shit shape.

He turned to see the time on his phone, you'll be at his house in 30 min and he still needed to take a shower, rushing to the bathroom he left the brownies on the table of the kitchen.

You were standing at the door of your boyfriend's house, you arrived earlier but you couldn't help it, you were so excited to see Robby's face when he opened the gift you bought him. Knocking at his door, you patiently waited for him.

The door was finally opened by a Robby fully dressed but with soaking hair and with a towel around his neck, this must be heaven. Standing there just admiring his figure you didn't hear anything he said.

“Hey baby, you okay?” He sounded concerned but the teasing smile on his face told you he knew the effect he had on you.

“I hope you don't open the door looking like this to anyone” Your smile matched his. “Only you” he dragged you inside the house by your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Hi” a kiss on his nose and he could feel the stress from before leaving his body. “Hi” He was about to take your hand when he saw it, you were carrying a gift bag.

Robby quickly looked at you and before he could say anything, you were faster than him. “I know, i know, we said no gifts, just movies and pizza, but you can't blame me, in fact, blame yourself!” Robby was more confused and once again, you spoke before him, but this time handing him the bag, telling him to open it. “You looked like a sad puppy the whole last week and I couldn't handle it, all I could think was, what can I do to make him happy again? And then I saw it at the store, and well, i think it suits you very well” at this point you were rambling, feeling nervous, what if he doesn't like it? what if he hated it? what if he—

“I fuckin love it” His voice made your heart flutters, the butterflies dancing in your stomach. “You know i have never received a lot of gifts in my life, but this? It's definitely my favorite, god, you're my favorite person in this entire world, thank you babe, for real” He left the skateboard on the floor carefully, and you were crushed between his arms and body, it felt nice, it felt perfect.

But also you felt a smell in the air, something sweet, like brownies!

“Please tell me that smell is because you brought brownies” You separated your face from his chest, but you were still in his arms. “What a way to ruin the moment, huh” He looked down at you smiling, but his face quickly changed at the mention of the brownies, fuck, fuck, fuck. “I actually baked them but—” You squired yourself from his grip and ran to the kitchen, giggling like a child, Robby running after you, trying to stop you to see the shit brownies but it was too late, you had them in your hands and a beautiful smile on your face.

“As I was saying, I tried to bake them in heart shape, but as you can see, it didn't turn out that way” His eyes glued to the floor, too embarrassed to look at you “I mean, it's not that bad” He scoffed, obviously you were lying, “Okay, okay, it's not that pretty but you know, art is abstract” You stretched your arm to him, brownie in hand, an invitation to eat it together.

“At least they taste go—” faces scrunched up at the moment you two ate a bite from the brownies “Honey, did you by any chance used baking soda instead of baking powder?”

“What's the difference?” And he looked so serious while asking.

Oh boy.

[according2thelore]

oh GOD that ask answer was everything i dreamed and more. es!dean literally cannot imagine the kind of torture sam went through with lucifer. (which, incidentally, is one reason why ls!sam could never really replace ls!dean with him. he wakes up hyperventilating in the middle of the night and that slender boy is not enough. he needs his mountain man of a brother who Knows what’s out there.) and that kills him because he needs to know Everything About Sam. but sam is so so right to keep it from him - i don’t think es!dean could live with the knowledge, say, that sam is raped one day. i think it would actually end him.

ugggh i lvoe this au so much. you are a genius.

GRAHH you're so right!!!

sam wakes up one night straight from a nightmare and stumbles into the hallway, needing to find dean's room. he runs into ES!Dean, who's all it's okay, sam. it can't hurt you, it's just a vision--because he doesn't know! ES!Sam's nightmares can be soothed with gentle hands on his neck and shoulders, brushing bangs out of his eyes, dean promising that they'll fix it, and sam's safe.

but LS!Sam is going to throw up because this isn't a fixable thing. he feels suffocated by ES!Dean's firm hands on wrists, held down, and he pushes him away, hard.

LS!Dean shoves ES!Dean further away like you can't restrain him like that and ES!Dean pales bc he things he's caught on: someone held sam captive, maybe because of his powers. how could LS!Dean have arrived so clearly late, late enough that sam still carries the scars into his dreams?

and LS!Dean keeps muttering about first stones and c'mon sammy breathe with me and look at me and this is real. and LS!Sam kind of crumples and shoves himself under LS!Dean's arm, trying to make himself small and holdable, and ES!Dean just stands there and burns.

because there is clearly something here that's not right. something that LS!Sam&Dean have survived together, learned how to deal with, spent years adjusting to each other, and that's something ES!Dean is starting to realize they'll never tell him.

sam has always been a little inaccessible--he used to refuse to tell dean details about his girlfriend-of-the-weeks, he kept stanford a secret until he got his acceptance letter, he wouldn't tell dean what he was writing in all of those notebooks--but never the truly big, life-or-death stuff. and now sam--LS!Sam, anyway--is inaccessible. and it kills dean. dean wants to shrivel up and die because sammy is his. his responsibility, his to watch out for, his to mend, his to kill for.

he has never felt more purposeless or rudderless than he does right now--watching someone else comfort sam.

what he doesn't know, of course, would kill him. the fact that sam asks to be locked into a cage in hell, and dean will let him. the century of torture and rape and psychological hell that sam went through is a chasm that dean will never be able to fix. he can build a bridge, but that's all he can do.

it would kill ES!Dean. and LS!Sam knows it. so he reaches out a shaky hand in the gap between LS!Dean's arm and body, where he's wrapped sam in a bear hug.

ES!Dean rushes forward and grabs it, life finally having meaning again as sammy looks up at him with bloodshot eyes, with fingers that shake, and a voice that cracks when he says, "i'm okay, dean. thank you. i'm fine."

AGH!!!! anon, you get it <3 <3 hurt/comfort is my FUCKING bread and butter!!!!!!!! esp when it goes both ways!! because with these bozos, it literally would be!!

-lizzy

[justanothervigalanty]

city of Bain au

I hope we all know the city of bain shit like how flash did some time forse stuff and Thomas Wayne was Batman bla bla bla this is basically Bruce/Batman and y/n / bat woman not knowing what to name there unborn son. (The gif… I thought it was funny because Bruce is about to become a dad and the city of Bain is about his dad…yeah it sounded funny in my head)

(before flash fucked up time)

“Flash needs help I’m heding out (you grab your suit) no you stay not in this condition” Bruce said placing his hand on your stomach and a kiss on your forehead before leaving.”well that’s not happening” you said to yourself putting on your bat woman suit. “Lady y/n I do think you should stay behind you need to take it easy.” You heard Alfred say “Not you too! I am 4 months pregnant it’s not like I’m dying, I’ll be fine” you left soon after on your motorcycle. And you arrived just in time to kick some criminal ass. “God i thought I told you to stay out!?” Batman said attacking a guy who was about to sneak up on you from behind. “Bat woman , always a pleasure to see you darling.” Said green lantern as he took out the last of the criminals. Batman glared at him “you know full well she’s pregnant with my son hall” bat man pushing him to the wall. “Ho yeah iras asked is you need anything?” Flash said walking over to you “baby names!” Batman butted in “no we don’t because I’m calling him Grayson!” You said very confident “there’s no way I’m letting my son be named after your favourite circus act!” Batman added losing his deeper voice “come on bats you know the saying happy wife happy- where did flash go?” Aquaman said arm around Bruce’s shoulders. And then you felt your husband leaving, memories changing and you woke up to a knock at your bedroom door.

“Y/n are you up it’s almost 12?” you herd him say. Thomas Wayne. He had taken you in after your parents died a week after he lost his son, your best friend. Bruce. “Yea I’m up I’m up” you said as he opened the door. “Hay kid.” Thomas said siting next to you on your bed “I have that dream again! The man kissing my forehead and the two kids!”you said hand on your forehead. “Did you get any more details about them?” Thomas said hand on your shoulder “umm the man had black hair and gray blue eyes and the two kids are boys umm I think on was 4 and the other 9? Oh yeah the man called the 9 year old, dick.” You said trying to remember. “So the boys name is Richard? Ha like the flying Grayson one year old Richard?” He laughed standing up. “Well that’s weird I always thought I’d name my son Tommy. Thomas if you’re being formal.” You said still sat down. “Dang kid you are getting me emotional!” He said ruffling your hair. “Omg am I getting the Batman emotional?!” You said sarcastically “har har very funny (goes to door) and clean your god dam room!” He said from the hall. “Love you to Tom!” You shouted

(After flash fixes his shit to normal. Yay.)

in the bat cave you’re walking around still in pj’s wells Bruce and Barry talk “you know I still remember all of that life! The birthdays my childhood room everything!” Flash said as you sat by Bruce “it’s like a curse.” Bruce said “or a blessing you’re lucky you got to see your mother again. And what did I go by again?” You asked "oh umm I think it was the soldier” just then something klicked in Barry’s head. He reached for his pocket and pulled out a note and handed it to Bruce. He took off his cap hood and you could see the tears forming in his eyes. “There’s a ps for you” Bruce said handing you the letter “it’s from dad.” The note said “hay little soldier, I’m sorry I won’t be there to meet my grandson so just tell him that I love him for me. Because if my death means that my son and you get to be happy together with your kids then it’s a small price to pay. Stay strong soldier your son’s and my son need you to be.” You placed down the note and walked over to Barry and hugged him “thank you”. “For what?” He asked hugging you back. “The perfect name.” You said letting go holding a hand to your stomach “Thomas. (Your father’s name) . Wayne.” Bruce came over to you “umm babe?” He said “yeah Bruce are you ok?” You asked as he handed you the note. “It says boys and kids…” “…I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU WANTED ONE KID!” you asked re reading the note “oh yeah in the other word you had dreams off this world but it wasn’t only bruce, you and the baby there was another kid. Thomas was 4 and the other was around nine and you both called him dick” Barry said a bit concerned “hell yeah I do name my kid after the flying Grayson’s! Take that Bruce!” You said more excited . But Bruce was just wondering how is Thomas going to be 4 but dick 9 you don’t have another kid this was your first pregnancy after all and the flying Grayson baby Richard’s mom and dad weren’t in any danger. Right?

[pettyshippen]

This is What I Call, the Start of Season 3 of Libertys Kids

Sybil Ludington

I first learned about her from Rejected Princesses and have fallen if love with her. She’s like Arya Stark.

Funny because Sarah and Sybil would have a Sansa and Arya dynamic

James is a natural horseman now

Sybil straight up ready to kill

‘I’m so proud of my daddy who has a target on his head’

“But why aren’t you fighting?” Imagine Sarah heard that and said “Listen bitch,”

Sarahs ballgown should just be solid pink

Of course Arnold sees Sarah right away. Thank goodness she has a chaperone. I bet Mrs. Adams knows he’s kinda flirty with her and keeps an eye on them.

“I had hoped our paths would cross paths again Ms. Phillips, away from the field of battle” GOD why aren’t they waltzing while he’s saying this, that would be intense.

In fact their entire conversation could have been discussed while they were waltzing but that would take the animators way more work.

Imagine Benedict starting his passionate rant while dancing and then dancing

Sybil gotta be starting shit for no reason

I bet Sarah and Hannah would bond tho.

“I’m coming” “Like hell you are”

Sybils eager af to fight

She’s that girl at school that would punch the bully for me

The last shot of the entire city on fire before the dramatic music plays 😱😱

They just shot a fucking cannonball at a house

Sneaking out to go report hell yeah

Imagine getting to storm into a place on a horse. Kickass.

Once again, Sarah stalks Arnold into a danger zone

The horse even went into the water

It’s like that scene from home alone

Stupid af but it worked

Arnold is done with this army shit. He worked hard to earn that rank.

“I’ve come to think of you as like a daughter.”

“He’s destroying himself with his own bitterness and anger.”

I feel like Sybil would be mean af to Sarah just because she’s British and Sarahs doing her best to stay civil and in control. And then James would yell “Enough Sybil! She’s my friend!”

Lafayette Arrives

The drag episode 💄

Course Bens surrounded by bitches

Instant connection between Henri and Lafayette. You know he’s gonna adopt this child.

How old is Henri supposed to be by now? Thirteen I’d say. He should be growing.

Henris like I adopted this French guy

I need a dramatic retelling of Lafayettes drag escapade

LiberTAY

Lafayette would be the most anticipated

Why is Henri allowed in Congress

Wtf just a second ago ya’ll didn’t want him

What if politicians gathered for meetings in bars?

Lafayette is an America fanboy

They’re like ewwww it’s French

Omg he’s coming this way

Pretend it’s chicken and dumplins

RETREAT CALMLY

Ben is cunning af

We’re French but we’re American Yay

The Hessians Are Coming

Those girls aren’t the Schuyler sisters are they

Those laughs are not believable

No, they’re German girls

When he’s an asshole but his horse loves you

Here he goes ranting again.

“I learned it from school lol” “Who needs to go to school to build forts”

“Are you trying to sway the Hessians into leaving us?” “I’m a reporter jackass”

“I’m not a soldier, I’m a musician” Yeah like how Tom was not a soldier but a scientist

“Your witness is dead so you’re guilty”

Another victory for Arnold that will be ignored

James and this German dude had to puss next to each other for weeks.

“You guys are cannibals” whut

Will both of you stop acting like dicks please.

That’s more like it.

Arnold gets screwed over so much

That poor little german boy. Of course he didn’t want this James.

Arnold marching into battle shamelessly without permission.

Arnold saved James life without knowing it

Yeah we all quit

Sarahs reaction to Arnold having his leg shot is not realistic at all. L

Polish guy said go to school

Oh his name is Gunther

The last line of this episode did not age well at all.

Valley Forge

Arnold (the ARNOLD) is in this!?

Oh look mini log cabins

Von Strudel really came in on a sled like the white witch

“No meat! No meat!”

RIP Aaron Carter. This poor kid.

So its like diet bread

I can feel the cold

Girl went outside in the cold after being outside for stays

Where did the gust of wind go?

I love Lafayettes loyalty

Imagine having to poop outside in the snow

Bare ass exposed to the snow cold

“Corporal, yell at him for me.”

“How can I appreciate what you don’t have?”

Henri would definitely become a soldier in the adult version of the show

Henris the mascot. I need him in an eagle mascot costume now.

Imagine an eagle sports mascot fighting a king george mascot.

This dude is obnoxious

Ok now not so much

Omg Franklin sent Von Strudel

George Washington being a dad

Slide to the left. Slide to the left. Cha cha real smooth.

Sarah why aren’t you more worried

Allies at Last

Here comes Peggy Shippen

Nice dress Ben

That excited little barefoot leap on the cold concrete ground

Smart move on James and Moses

So without Ben or Moses around, that would put Sarah in charge. Since she’s still loyalist I’m sure she welcomed Andre at first

“The less I say about her, the better.”

Sarah, are you dancing with tory guys at these balls? I bet you are.

And now she wants Andre and Peggy out and I don’t blame her.

Oh look, hats

Oh no Moses the white guy your name is on the list

“I’m suddenly in the mood for English tea” petty Ben

Why are they telling Sarah all this stuff, she’s friends with Americans

Poor Henri being laughed at

“Have you forgotten that you are English?” “Not in the slightest.”

But Moses seems like such a nice guy

SIGN A PUBLIC OATH OF LOYALTY

“This is because I’m Jewish.”

Pop off White Moses

Oh you motherfucker

Oh now you wanna sign it

“A lot more people will have to stand up for equality to come true.”

And now France is their ally.

[league-of-sam]

Catching A Ghost | Simon 'GHOST' Riley

Ghost x Reader

CHAPTER SEVEN

Simon 'GHOST' Riley x AFAB!Reader!OC 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

Catching A Ghost: Masterlist

The next few days, you almost forgot that you were in the middle of a special ops mission, that's how perfect life had been. 

Every now and then, Ghost had waited for you in the mornings, allowing you to join him on his runs.

Slowly, he'd been opening up to you a little more. 

Barely, but it was enough for the others to visibly notice a difference between the two of you – especially the few times they'd heard you call him Simon when you thought no one else could hear. 

He'd been helping you train, too, showing you control, but you still continued grinding his gears where you could. You'd not gotten back to wearing your mask just yet, but everyone had been encouraging and supportive.

But now, it was time to move on. 

Hassan was on the move, and Laswell wasted no time in rallying everyone together. There was no say in when she'd arrive with the new troops she'd mentioned, so now, you were all gathered in the HQ. 

Ghost stood over the maps with Price and Gaz. Soap, Alejandro, and Rudy were doing some target practise, leaving you back in the ring with Alex.

"Thanks for coming back in with me, Al." you said as you circled him.

"Not a problem, sweet cheeks," he whimpered, "just don't break my arm again."

"I won't." you giggled.

"So, what's going on with you and the L.T.?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You and Ghost, very cosy, huh?"

"N-no...I have no idea what you're talking about." You said, raising your fists to hide your face.

"Oh my god, (Y/N) Price, you have a crush on him too!"

"The fuck you mean, 'too'?"

"He likes you."

"No, he doesn't."

"Does too."

"Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut the fuck up."

He was about to open his mouth again, and so you rolled your eyes, lunging for the boy. 

He was so distracted from teasing you, he didn't even register your movements until he was on his back, winded. You pinned his arms to the floor, and then your head snapped up as you heard the cheers of your team celebrating your win.

Smiling, you whooped, throwing your arms in the air, giving Alex enough time to push you off him so you laid next to him, laughing.

"Gotcha."

"You cheated."

"Shouldn't have got so distracted taking the piss then, should you?"

Ghost yelled over a quick celebratory compliment, and immediately your face was red. 

"Oh my god, you really do like him."

"Shhhh! You can't tell anyone, I'm not ready, and I don't think he's the type of guy to do feelings."

"Cross my heart." Alex said, making the motion with his fingers.

The door hissed open then, and in came Laswell, with around 20 soldiers on her tail. 

They were wearing a dark uniform with helmets, and a light blue crest sat on their chests. 

Oh no. 

Your assumptions were deemed correct based on the empathetic, pleading look that Laswell threw to you as you stood up, pulling Alex to his feet also.

Price and Ghost noticed too, giving the others a small whistle, beckoning them to gather. Alex stood close behind you, the two of you still in the ring. The others got to the space in front of the ring, just in time for the final person to enter the room.

"Damn, 141! It's a mighty fine base y'all got yourselves here." Just like that, sauntering over to the group, was your ex-fiancé.

"This base is owned by Los Vaqueros." Your brother corrected, his tone harsh and hostile.

"Ah, Captain Price, pleasure to see you again."

"Wish I could say the same."

"Aw come on now, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"General Shepherd has ordered that the Shadow Company oversee this mission, and frankly, we need their expertise and their equipment." Laswell said before any more could ensue.

"Exactly. From here on out, we're a team. You need us."

"We don't need you." You spoke, deadpan.

"(Y/N)! Baby! There you are, been lookin' for you everywhere, princess. This is where you've been hiding from me?"

He turned to you, sauntering over as if he owned the place. 

You scowled, quickly looking to your team. 

Ghost's eyes were hard, his stare burning holes into the side of Graves' face. Soap was the same, and even Alejandro had scooched that little bit closer to you.

"Wasn't hiding, 'cause if I was, you wouldn't have been able to find me."

"Damn," Graves muttered, looking you up and down, licking his lips, "my little Reaper."

"I'm not yours anymore." You growled in a low voice, stepping forward.

"Stand down, L.T." Price whispered in your direction.

You looked down to where he was gesturing, and you'd barely even noticed that your hand had moved to the concealed dagger strapped to your thigh. 

Clearly, Graves was getting under your skin more than you cared to admit.

"If you say so." Graves waved you off, looking you up and down intensely. "Surprised you're even back in there."

"She's a damn good fighter." Gaz jumped to your defence.

"Better than him?" one of the Shadows said, pointing to Ghost.

No one answered, and Graves let out a cocky chuckle, "Course not, that's the big bad Ghost right there, boys. Legendary."

"Graves." Ghost grunted.

"Pleasure to see you again, lieutenant."

"With all due respect, which is none, watch your mouth, Commander." Alex said, moving to stand level with you, pulling you into his side.

"Keller...wow, should'a known she'd run straight to you." Graves scoffed as he looked at you.

"He's my best friend." you said, spitting venom.

Ghost stepped forward, then, nodding his head to switch places with Alex. 

Every person watched in silence as he stepped into the ring with you, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it aside.

"Let's go, L.T."

"What?"

"You 'n' me, now, let's go."

"You won't let me win this time?" you whispered, desperate to not be embarrassed again.

"Promise."

"This should be good." One of the Shadow soldiers murmured.

"Alright." You said, and pulled the knife from its hiding place, launching it across the room without looking, "no weapons."

Eyes followed it as it skimmed Graves' face by barely a centimetre, flying through the air to hit the target on the other side of the room, right in the bullseye. Impressed whistles sounded from the Shadow soldiers, while Soap and Alejandro gave Graves a knowing smirk. 

You smirked too, knowing that looked badass.

Graves looked at you, jaw hung wide, "Are you mentally deficient?!" he screeched. "You could've just took my fuckin' head off."

"If I were mentally deficient, I would've missed," you said, squatting down to his level, "Check that out, bullseye."

Snickers rang around the room at your response, the Shadows marvelling at your skill and attitude towards their commander.

With a nod, you and Ghost began sparring, and then it turned into a full on combat session. Punches were thrown and missed on both sides. 

He really wasn't letting you win this time. 

It continued for a good ten minutes, before he managed to get the better of you, getting you into a headlock.

"Put on the mask." He grunted to you, holding your head under his arm.

"What? No!"

"Do it, Price. You're holdin' back. I can take it. Put it on."

With that, he tossed you backwards into the ropes, and you staggered, barely keeping yourself upright. 

Looking around, you took in the faces. 

The Shadows had the same cocky grin that Graves wore, satisfied that you were losing, and anger boiled within you. 

No, he will not have this power over you. 

You are good enough.

Ghost came to you, dragging you up to his chest by your tank top, "Put it on, and show that prick wha' ya made of."

"I can't." you whispered, looking into his eyes.

"You can. Go as hard as you can on me, I'll tap you three times here when it's over." He said, two fingers pressing into the side of your thigh.

"You trust me? After what you saw?"

Ghost looked at you for a moment, before answering, "With my life."

Fighting the smile desperate to break free, you separated, walking to your corner. You made eye contact with Price and Laswell, who nodded to you. 

With a flick of your hair, you placed the mask on your face. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath; now was the time to prove yourself. 

Snapping your eyes open, you turned swiftly, the speed of your movements taking everyone by surprise, and you lunged at Ghost.

Your eyes were wild, your hair was messy, and your forehead was laced with sweat. 

Yet, there you were, straddling Ghost's chest with your forearm pressed harshly into his neck. Your knees held his arms tight to his side, and his hands sat lightly on the side of your thigh.

Pinned.

One tap. Two taps. Three taps.

Release.

You did it. You didn't lose control, and you won. 

You beat the Ghost on your own, and in front of everyone.

"That's fucking it, Reaper! That's my bloody girl!" Price screamed, swinging his fists in the air as Gaz started off the applause.

You looked up, smiling under the mask as you looked to your team. 

They were fucking proud of you, and you were fucking proud of yourself. You threw your arms up, whooping, which only egged the boys on more. 

Looking to your right, you saw Laswell, smiling proudly to you nodding her head, and next to her, Graves pouted. That gave you a rush of confidence and satisfaction; you'd proven him wrong, so wrong.

Distracted, Ghost looked up at you, still held down by you straddling his chest. 

His lips curling upward slightly under his mask, he planted his hands on the ground, pushing himself up. You yelped, tipping backwards, but his hands fastened quickly behind your back, letting your legs only drop as far as his waist. With almighty strength, he now had you both upright.

Your hands gripped his muscled shoulders to keep yourself up, and his large hands were still cupping your thighs, keeping your legs tightly locked over his hips. Your back was arched, chest pressed against chest. 

He held you like it was nothing; you looked fucking tiny clinging onto him, and God, he liked it. 

He groaned quietly, enough for you not to hear him over the sound of your quickened breathing, and set you on your feet gently, stepping back from you.

"Nice work, Reaper." He said, his voice low and husky.

"T-thanks." You stuttered, breath betraying your beating heart.

Ghost nodded, then exited the ring, holding the ropes open for you to follow. A quick glance around the room told you that everyone was just as thrown by Ghost's actions as you were. With a deep exhale and a shake of your head, you followed. 

Waiting to pull you into their arms when you dropped down was Laswell.

"Well done, sweetheart." She whispered into your ear.

"Thanks, ma." You whispered back.

You'd gotten into the habit of jokingly calling her that a few years back, after she completely lost it when you got hurt on a mission. She was just like a mother bear protecting her cub, yelling at anyone who tried to stop her from coming to your aid. Now, she really was like your mother. You and Price had been alone in life for years, so it was nice to have a parental figure again.

"Right, we get it. She's amazing." Graves rolled his eyes. "But we have a mission to get to, in case you forgot."

"You were always one to rush things, weren't you, Phillip?" you said, and it made his soldiers chuckle.

Shooting his team a deadly glance, he stepped close to you, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, princess."

"Mmm, I think you do."

"You never seemed to mind." He bit back. 

Brave.

"Sure... how's Elena, by the way?" you smirked.

Graves' face went a pale white then. 

It was obvious now that he thought he'd gotten away with his infidelity. 

But no – you knew, and you sure as hell weren't letting it go.

"Let's get down to business, shall we?" he said, changing the subject with an awkward laugh and a rub to the back of his neck.

Yes, let's.

[e-dragoons]

lyric writing prompts!

... one line from every song on my spotify wrapped, in order! if you can guess the song you get... a thumbs up from me. these are REALLY RANDOM.

you mean like, like, [name] with the ass?

feel like i'm hexed

i've been looking everywhere for you

i'm not the right one you should wait on

edamame

was it something i said to make you feel like you're a burden?

i wouldn't hesitate to smile while you suffocate and die

no quiero estar aquí (i do not want to be here)

when i'm far too gone, can you show me love?

you can be the beauty and i could be the monster

a king with no crown

we are not the same

you take the full truth, then you pour some out

i died in your arms tonight

there's two sides to every story

fell in love with a girl i met in hell

we're so good at selling lies

this ain't no place for no hero to call home

i'm not okay

back on my bullshit

could i be a prisoner for the voices in my brain?

i try to tell you what i think and play it off like it's a joke

your kiss and i will surrender

c'est la vie (that's life)

don't follow me, you'll end up in my arms

i was just an only child of the universe, and then i found you

so when are you gonna sing for me?

can't turn down, i refuse to hold back anymore

would you pray before you twist the knife?

my poor heart is my only friend

i wanna know if i tell you a secret, will you keep it?

thought you were mine, love

you are everything you hated

i thought i was a fool for no one, but ooh baby i'm a fool for you

whine about it

my sanctuary, you're holy to me

numb you up until you can't feel a god damn thing

i cannot erupt, i must control

blood cold as ice and a heart made of stone

were we ever friends?

what's the worst that i can say?

everything i would give is everything you couldn't take

i'm living for you

you see, love isn't what i need as long as i can set you free

you better run

i got dreams of my own, but i want to make yours come true

i would brave the darkest night to make you a promise

i could be a better boyfriend than him

hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone

we met before but nice to meet you

if this is how you folks make art, it's fucking depressing

secrets i have held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought

emptiness is safe, keep it that way

all i did was try my best, this the kind of thanks i get?

that's a red flag bitch, olé

my high hopes are getting low

if i only could i'd make a deal with god, and i'd get him to swap our places

nothing to say when everything gets in the way

everyone that tried to fix me knows that i can't change a bit

tell yourself it's never gonna happen again

you gotta be so cold to make it in this world

i'll follow you into the dark

a shot in the heart doesn't make it unbreak

you say you won't but then you do

burn everything you love, then burn the ashes

when life gives me lemons, i don't make lemonade. i use them to make you cry.

i can't do shit right, i can't learn my lesson

sometimes all i think about is you

i don't talk about it unless i make a joke about it

arrogant boy, love yourself so no one has to

i think she really likes me, ask politely, can i--ooh?

best friends, ex-friends till the end; better off as lovers, not the other way around

love your eyes when you would look at me

there's a story at the bottom of this bottle

i can keep secrets that i know that you want me

hurts but i know how to hide it, kinda like it

i will leave you out to bleed

self sabotage is an old friend of mine

maybe i'm too emotional, or maybe you never cared at all

i lose my voice when i look at you

but i guess good for you

come break some hearts now, tear them out

there's really just one thing that we have in common: neither of us will be missed

and if we can't find where we belong, we'll have to make it on our own

don't waste your time or time will waste you

and as i arrived i thought i saw you leaving

it's too cold for you here and now

i don't want to be afraid

all my style, all my grace, all i tried to save my face

let's get mischievous and polyamorous

you can think that you're in love when you're really just in pain

the world tried to burn all the mercy out of me, but you know i wouldn't let it

i really fucked it up this time. didn't i, my dear?

somebody get me through this nightmare

when i start to tumble from the sky, you remind me how to fly

if you want, i'll keep on crying

take a breath, let the rest come easy

i'd rather be lost than to stay the same

have you ever wanted to disappear?

just another girl alone at the bar

screwing everything up and doing everything wrong

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 19b

*Warning Adult Content*

Run Boy Run - Part 2

Everett orders an Uber and then sends a text to his group chat requesting Alissa and Michael to sneak out of their houses and away from their bodyguards, er, biker guards? to meet him at a motel just outside of town.

In his current state of mind, he'd rather chance it with his enemies than stay another minute at the clubhouse and risk running into Finn.

Acting on his emotions while ignoring the consequences of his actions is undoubtedly foolish but Everett really doesn't give a damn and neither do his friends because they agree to meet up with him.

The majority of the house is out doing God knows what with Gavin, so Everett successfully makes his way outside without getting caught, adrenaline thrumming loudly in his veins.

He's pushing the limit with every second that passes and he knows it.

Everett is just in time to see someone leaving on their motorcycle.

He looks around twice to make sure the coast is clear, then he books it toward freedom, running like his life depends on it.

He slips through the gates at the very last second, not looking back after hearing them slam shut behind him.

The Uber arrives at a gas station down the street about fifteen minutes later and not once during the long drive to the motel does Everett receive an angry text or phone call from Knox.

Has no one ratted him out yet?

Should he take this as a sign that maybe he isn't making a colossal mistake right now?

Or should he view Knox's silence as a red flag?

Everett can hardly think straight.

He doesn't even know where the hell Knox has been for the last two days let alone how the man might be feeling and why.

Then again, Finn had said more than enough on Knox's behalf.

"Are you on the run from the law or what?" Andrew, the driver, chuckles nervously when they pull into the parking lot of a rundown motel.

"You kept looking over your shoulder like you were expecting someone to be following us. If that's the case, then I really don't want any trouble..."

"There won't be any. Thanks for the ride."

Everett pays the man and exits the car in a hurry.

He books a room at the motel but keeps his bag on him.

A few minutes later, Michael's car pulls into the lot and parks.

Everett greets his friends with a massive hug, the three of them screaming for several minutes about how much they missed each other before finally getting in Michael's car and driving off again.

"Sorry to drag you guys all the way out here," Everett says.

"I didn't want to risk meeting up at one of our houses because I know Knox's men are out lurking."

"It's cool. We're just glad to have you back," Michael says.

"I'm surprised your dude hasn't already popped out to snatch you away. How long do you think it'll take for him to notice that you're gone?" Alissa asks from the front seat.

"Don't know, don't care."

Everett turns his phone off before shoving it to the bottom of his bag.

He tries to relax in the backseat but comfort never comes.

"Is there someplace we can go to chill for a couple of hours? I don't want to think about bikers or gang wars. I just want to hang out with my two best friends and pretend that our summer hasn't completely gone to shit."

"You sound exhausted, babe. Have those assholes been giving you a hard time?" Alissa spins around in her seat to make eye contact with Everett.

He glances at her briefly, then shrugs his shoulders.

"What is that supposed to mean? Do I need to come over there and shank a bitch? I might not know how to fight, but I do know how to stab."

Everett laughs.

"I almost fucked a guy's face up with a pan of hot grease because he pissed me off. So, no, you don't need to stab anyone. I can handle myself, for the most part."

"And what about the other parts?" Alissa asks softly.

"Like the ones hidden deep inside?"

"What do you want me to say?" Everett sighs.

"It's not like I can walk out and get some therapy to fix me overnight. If I tell anyone what I know, what I've seen, it will destroy so many lives."

"At this point, it's you or them," Michael mutters.

"I agree with that statement," Alissa says.

"I appreciate all their help but I'd never take it at the expense of me watching you sit back and deteriorate, Everett. It isn't worth it. We should go to the cops."

"I can't," Everett says. "I just... can't."

"Why not? What's stopping you?" Alissa asks.

"A lot of things but I also kind of bonded with someone from the club, the President's wife and she's been one of the few people that have helped to keep my head on straight. If I take this shit to the cops, then her baby will grow up without a father. I can't be the reason why that happens."

"You're literally too damn nice," Alissa mutters. "It's going to come back to bite you one day."

"Maybe so," Everett replies, staring out of the window.

"The Fallen Angels do bad shit but they aren't all bad people. Same thing applies to Knox..."

The words play over in his head, again and again, until he starts to believe them.

"I'm in too deep, anyway. After they get rid of The Jackals, only then will my life go back to normal. But enough about me. Where the hell are we going? I'm starving and didn't get to eat breakfast because I threw it in someone's face."

"We can go to the mall if you guys want? My girl's birthday is next weekend and she won't shut up about this perfume she saw trending on Tik Tok," Alissa says. "I have to find it for her, then we can stop to grab a bite to eat in the food court."

"Sounds like a plan," Michael says. "A little retail therapy could do me good."

Everett smiles but his credit card would beg to differ.

Exactly one hour into his impromptu shopping spree, reality smacks him in the form of a long receipt totaling $341.90.

He isn't sure whether to laugh or cry while waddling toward an empty table in the middle of the food court with several large bags, some of them designer, in each hand.

"My jobless ass has officially overdone it."

Everett takes a seat with a heavy sigh after organizing his bags on the floor.

"This is why I don't go shopping when I'm moody. Expensive things happen."

"I told you we shouldn't have gone into that damn store," Alissa laughs.

"And I told you to put half of this shit back because you didn't need it," Michael huffs, struggling to rid himself of the six bags he'd been forced to carry.

"But of course, you never listen to my great advice."

"Promise I'll start next year," Everett teases.

After ordering their food, the trio quickly gets wrapped up in a lighthearted conversation that makes Everett forget all his troubles.

It isn't until Alissa points out Everett's not-so-secret admirer that he slowly starts to come back down to earth and realize that the darkness he's been desperate to get away from will always catch up to him.

"Homeboy has been staring at you hella hard for like five minutes," Alissa announces with a cheeky grin.

"You should go talk to him. He might be a good distraction for you."

"Uh... Have you forgotten about the situation he's in? He definitely should not attempt to hook up with any randos right now," Michael says.

"You'd better take my advice this time," he tells Everett.

"I'm not going to do anything stupid. I've done enough of it today."

Everett follows Alissa's gaze and turns around in his seat to get a better look at the guy whose attention he's captured.

"Oh, no. Not my type at all."

He turns back around to finish his food, ignoring the chill that creeps up his spine.

"He looks exactly like the assholes that used to give me shit in high school for being gay. No fucking thanks."

"Shit... He's walking this way," Alissa whispers. "Everyone act natural."

"You're literally the only one not acting natural," Michael says.

Everett discreetly looks over his shoulder to see the man walking in his direction, almost as if he's making his way to the table.

The man is dressed in a black and white flannel shirt that's unbuttoned to show a crisp white t-shirt underneath.

His black jeans are tight and showcase his long, muscular legs.

As he comes even closer, Everett can see the little bit of scruff on his face and a cross tattoo on the side of his neck.

A pair of black sunglasses rest on top of his cherry red hair, completing the old-school look that he badly needs to give back to the past.

For a split second, Everett thinks the man is going to stop and ask for his number.

The nervous breath he didn't know he was holding gets released when the man raises his cell phone to his ear and talks into it, his dark eyes pulling away from Everett's table as he continues on his way toward the exit carrying a greasy Burger King bag in his free hand.

"Maybe he wasn't interested after all," Michael says.

"That was awkward," Everett chuckles. "I'm glad he didn't stop, though."

"I totally thought he was based on how hard he was looking over here," Alissa says, then changes the subject.

"Are we going back to the motel after this? I didn't bring anything with me but if you want us to stay the night with you, then we totally will."

"Ride or die," Michael adds, referring to their friendship.

"And I'm calling the right side of the bed. You two can fight over the middle and the left."

Everett smiles softly, tearing up a little.

"I'll take the left."

[nikosamaki]

When you call them "Old Man":

Lucifer:

It’s like the ICE water you splashed to his face, because he didn’t expect to hear that from you (You know, you’re supposed to be his LOVER and now, you Fucked Up :(. To be honest, it doesn’t bother him, because everyone –his brothers- call him with that title –sometimes he hates of being the ELDEST son and says: “WHY ME?”- so, he just stares at you with narrowed eyes; then sights –he hoped that you learnt your lesson, but did you? I don’t think so!- and leaves you when you’re confused 😕, which makes you to think: “Am I in DANGER now?? God helps me!”.

Mammon:

WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?? You… you called THE GREAT MAMMON OLD MAN? HOW DARE YOUUUUUUUUUU?? –definitely he took it as a OFFENSE! And now here we are, you have to make it up (It’s easy, after all we are talking about MAMMON). He’s pouted and will stay there till you apologize –he’ll act just like a DOG and WILL get through it EASILY… LIKE A DOG (So don’t be that much nervous).

Levi:

“LOL… Look WHO calls WHOM “Old”! I’m young in Demon Ages, but it doesn’t mean it’s same in Human Ages… LOSER!!," (NOW you feel OLD, don’t you? It’s a PAIN in YOUR ASS). Nevertheless, we can say he DOESN’T give fuck to it –he’s an OTAKU and heard a lot of nonsense things, so… But if you COMPARE HIM with SOMEONE ELSE; just DO NOT do it, because he’s avatar of ENVY! –it’s going to be the same story just like Satan!

Satan:

HOLY COW!… JUST RUN till he doesn’t EXPLODE!! (You put your life in REAL DANGER… Just shout LUCIFERrrrrrrr & PRAY –if you can. Now there IS a question: “Are you going to be ALIVE?”… OF COURCE NOT! You ARE ALREADY DEAD!! Now you’re a MEAT in his sight) -in other words, GOD BLESS Luci that has SELF CONTROL, if he hadn’t had, we all could have been DEAD long ago! And thanks to him, he will SAVE you… If he arrives there SOON!! :/ . Well, if Satan had caught you up sooner than Luci arrives –or if he even is aware of what’s happening there-, you should have thought of two things:

1= How would you like your FUNERAL be? Simple, Gorgeous, etc.

2= If you were VERY LUCKY, he’ll PUNISH you –DON’T think it’S GOOD… because we’re talking about Satan’s PUNISHMENT!! It still equal with DEATH!!. He will teach you a BEAUTIFUL –also with PAIN- lesson! (You know what kind of punishment I’m talking 😙😉… The Naughty One).

Asmo:

What the FUCK you said????? –Asmo is NOT polite when it comes about his Beauty, so watch your language-, How COULD you?? –he’ll get MAD as much as Satan gets!! You better RUN!. I know you don’t expect that he could be dangerous or threatening –because he seems the weakest brother among them or is-, but dear, when youk cross the lines –especially RED lines-, you SURELY are DEAD!! (Don’t worry, he WILL make sure you’re beautiful in the GRAVE). You should NEVER UNDERESTIMATE any of them, after all, they’re DEMON!

Beel:

“Old Man?… Hahaha, Is it edible? If not, Goodbye 👋 ” . . :/ He acted so CALM, in other hand, it was inconsequential to him! –OPPOSITE of his brothers!!!- He didn’t even get ANGRY , let alone to KILL you! (How on the Devildom??? It freaks ME out). But if you INSULT to his FOOD –even he doesn’t own it-, he’s MORE dangerous than Satan! So NEVER EVER take the risk, because Luci may CAN’T save you!!

Belphe:

“So what? Have you seen the ELDEST son –addressed Luci-?" And continues his sleep :/ (Why ARE the last two brothers so carefree and easygoing? WHY?? I don’t enjoy it 😐 Too MUCH Boring 💤 ) He doesn’t even bother himself to think what you said –I guess so- and won’t get angry if you insult to ANYTHING! –except Beel, he’s his RED LINE!.

Diavolo:

“Come on, I’m not OLD; I’m a Baby Boy!!” (WTF he said?? Oh man, my mind is going to BAD thoughts, you too? What he meant? Believe me I'm NOT a PERVERT, but what he said was… ). To be honest, he doesn't care to what YOU -I emphasis YOU again- call him, like :"Daddy, Baby, Honey, ladder and so on" (Don't ask why I called him LADDER…) In conclusion, he WON'T get angry for such a nonsense things like it 🤗 -he's really Understanding (I can cry now 😭).

Barbatos:

"You think so? Then I'm sure you love OLD MEN more than Young Men, aren't I? 😊" - that shitty SMILE on his FACE, DEFINITELY something IS WRONG; I bet you. If it wasn't, I'll change my GANDER!!-, now he said that, you just feel embarrassed and be like: 😳 (This emoji; I couldn't describe your face, so…). The feeling you have is included: "A lot of Shame, Awkward and Horny! (Don't tell me you DON'T know why not getting HORNY, dear ;) )". And like Dia, he won't get angry but he'll TEASE you a lot '-'.

Simeon:

"In the name of God, Who dared you to say I'M OLD?? I shall end his life! 🔪"… CHILL OUT DUDE!! -he's even worse than Satan, who would ever thought??-, you're an ANGEL and supposed to be calm and cute and adorable, but not DANGEROUS! WTF? (I'm sure Simeon is a DEMON in ANGEL's disguise 🥸, DO NOT let you guard down). You will never dare to say him his OLD or if you did, you'd face with your beautiful destiny…

Luck:

Because you DON'T want to BREAK his HEART, you just put him in exception list (How could you DO IT???).

Solomon:

"Oho… Me.. OLD?? You sure??"; With these words, only THESE WORDS, you give him up 🥲 (Now, I kinda understand how he made pacts with Barb and Asmo), because you don't want to figure out how spooky -PAINFUL- it could be, DO YOU? If you do, even GOD CAN'T HELP YOUUUUU!! (Just love your life, please)

[lemon-boy-stan]

"HIS” – LEE TAEYONG x READER.

summary: taeyong has been in love with the reader ever since kindergarten, but recently, the reader has been infatuated with someone else - his close friend johnny, who is known throughout the school as a notorious fuckboy. taeyong doesn’t believe johnny deserves you, and makes his views clear. is there more to his steeliness? or is he just being an asshole? genre: angst, smut, fluff. pairing: nct lee taeyong x reader; side nct johnny suh x reader.

warnings: mean!jealous yong, fuckboy!dickhead johnny, non-consensual consumption of alcohol (thanks, mark), conflicted reader, reader doesn’t know what she wants, reader fucks both johnny and taeyong, use of the word cunt once or twice, fingering, penetration, swearing, sexual refrences, mentions of incest (they watch game of thrones), angry yong.

a/n: so this is my first nct fic! it’s been a while since i’ve written smut and it’s like, 5k+ of porn lmao (yeah, it took me three days don’t judge meeee). it’s actually very sweet, towards the end. you’ll just have to take my word for it. feedback and comments are appreciated! copyright 2022 under @lemon-boy-stan. i do not allow my works to be copied, translated, or distributed in any form. 

Taeyong rolled his eyes. Your jaw gaped open in disbelief as he said, "it's been only five minutes and you've still managed to bring up Johnny. Seriously, Y/N. Do you talk about anything else? Ever since Yuta's party…" another eye-roll.

A hurt expression crept its way onto your face, "I'm sorry. I just really like him. I don't really have anyone else to talk to about these things. I thought you were fine with it; it's okay. So, how's things with Jenny?" 

Taeyong sighed now, "no, I'm sorry. You should be able to talk about people you like. And… she's fine, I guess. We broke up. A few days ago, actually. Gosh, has it been that long already?" Taeyong laughed heartlessly. You blinked in shock. "Jesus, Yong," you said softly, "I've been talking so much about my love life we never get to talk about yours. Are you okay? Did… what happened?"

Taeyong shrugged, "nothing all that bad. We just weren't in love anymore. She found someone else, I found…" he looked away, his voice drifting off.

"It's okay, Yongie," you said softly. "You've got me, right? I still love you." you did, and you meant it. You were sure you'd never stop loving him, but you knew it wasn't the kind of love he needed. He looked back at you and grinned, "yeah, I do. So, what did Johnny do now that you're so in love with him?"

And your eyes lit up sven though you blushed sheepishly, "he wore all black today. And he said hi to me." Taeyong chortled loudly, "oh my god, Y/N. You fucking simp." you gave him a seething look, "I'm the simp? You're the one who married me in kindergarten! And don't forget you proposed!" you shoved him lightly and he grinned again.

"Love birds!" shouted a loud, brash voice, "we have arrived!" Mark, Yuta, Haechan, Jaehyun and Johnny made their way over. Taeyong gave Johnny a sour look and took his tray, moving to the other side of the table and putting it down next to yours. Yuta's girlfriend, Rachel, came over to the table and sat down next to him, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Hi, boys," she said cheerily, "Y/N. Johnny." she regarded the two of you separately, and Johnny curled his lip in that beautiful say he did as the two of you spoke synchronized, "hi Rachel." Yuta didn't appear to notice his girlfriend checking Johnny out. Taeyong did, though. And he scowled. 

Mark was seeing how far he could throw wadded-up bits of paper at the other table. Haechan was filming it and snickering. Yuta and Rachel were attached to each other, and Johnny and Jaehyun were talking about a party that was happening on Thursday. It appeared that now Taeyong was ignoring you, and had taken an interest to scowling at Johnny's waterbottle.

Johnny turned to you from his conversation, "Y/N. Want to come over on Thursday?" and your heart flipped before your shoulders slumped. "Ah, sorry, I can't; I'm spending the night at -" and now Taeyong was paying attention again, "at my house." snapping the words, killing all hopes of future group conversations.

Mark snorted before looking down at his phone. Jaehyun closed his mouth awkwardly. Haechan turned back around to face the table. Yuta and Rachel detached themselves from each other. Obviously, there was some sort of feud going on that you didn't know about. 

Rachel tutted softly before getting up, "alright, well, there's too much testosterone flying around," she looked at you pointedly, "I'm off. There's only a few minutes to the bell anyway." Yuta pouted, "babe." Rachel shrugged, looking again in your direction. He sighed defeatedly and shrugged.

Johnny scowled at Taeyong, "Jesus, okay man. Didn't know you were so keen to get your -" but Johnny didn't get to finish. Taeyong dove across the table, and Rachel stared in horror, shocked at the sudden outburst. Had the breakup really been that bad? Taeyong was never angry. He hated violence, despised conflict.

Yet still, there he was, gripping Johnny's shirt in his clenched fists. Your Taeyong, who cried in sad movies. Your Taeyong, who got yelled at multiple times to "grow up and be a man". This was not your Taeyong!

Mark sat back, affronted. "Ayo, man." Taeyong looked at him, a fire kindling in his eyes. "Chill the fuck out. People are looking." and it was true. Most of the heads in the cafeteria had turned. Taeyong scoffed, "I don't care." your eyes began to water, "Yongie. Don't." and Taeyong sighed, releasing Johnny. "Fine." 

The bell rang, and the heads turned back to their tables, starting new conversations about a topic you were sure they were talking about. Taeyong took his tray and got up, "come on Y/N." you sucked in a breath as Johnny crossed his arms, "so you'll listen to your -" but Jaehyun snapped his head up, "shut up, Johnny." and Johnny scowled.

Mark got up too, "I'll come with you. Better accompany Mr. Angry over here before he decides to beat someone else up." that earned a laugh. Mark always knew how to break the ice. Taeyong glared at him, but at least most of the tension was gone.

Johnny, Jaehyun, Haechan and Yuta walked in the other direction, you were sure you heard Johnny muttering, "fucker must be menstruating or something," as they left.

You were at the hallway when you brought it up softly. You couldn't avoid the topic forever. "Yong…" your voice drifted off, "what was that?" Taeyong huffed steamily, "he's an asshole, that's all." you crossed your arms at this, "no he's not! I don't see what your problem with him is! You're never violent! You just suddenly…" your breath hitched. "Don't cry," snapped Taeyong bluntly, "I just don't think you should date him. He says disgusting things."

Your jaw dropped open again, "excuse me?" Taeyong didn't flinch. "There, I said it. He's an asshole and you shouldn't date him. He'll just break your heart. Haven't you seen the girls he sleeps with? You'll just be another one of his fucks." and the anger spread into your system. Who did he think he was? And that was what you said.

"EXCUSE YOU, LEE TAEYONG! YOU'VE GOT NO RIGHT TO TELL ME WHO I CAN AND CAN'T FUCK! YOU'RE NOT MY BOYFRIEND!" you clenched your fists, the fire in your eyes burning as Taeyong's expression turned stony. "You're right," he said coldly, "I'm not. Go on, then. Date him. See what it does to you." then he walked into the classroom and slammed the door.

Your body shook, and you shoved your head into your hands, but Mark caught you. "It's okay, it's okay," he said as you cried, and you realized that it was always Taeyong who comforted you.

Taeyong didn't speak to you for two days, and on Wednesday, the only time he came up to you was to cancel plans for Thursday. "Thursday's off," he spoke in the same cold tone as he had on Monday, "so you can go fuck Johnny if you want. I'm spending the night with Isabel."

The hurt crept into you, "but Thursday's our movie night." Taeyong didn't even so much as move, "I don't care." and you blinked back the tears, looking down. "Okay." someone came up behind you; put his arm around you. 

"Come on, Y/N. Let's leave this asshole." oh. Johnny. "Fuck you," spat Taeyong. Johnny grinned, "sorry man. But I'm straight." you couldn't help but giggle softly at his words. Taeyong glared at him.

On Thursday after the bell rang, Johnny and the guys met you at your locker, though your shoulders slumped when you saw that Taeyong wasn’t there. Johnny put his arm around you again, “hey. Want a ride to my house?” and you grinned, “since you’re being so hospitalic.”

Johnny’s house was the same as yours, just a bit flashier and slightly bigger. Taeyong would’ve hated it. He was rich too, but his parents didn’t through around money. It was obvious that Johnny’s did. Taeyong would’ve found something rude to say about Mr. and Mrs. Suh even though they weren’t here. He got like that when he was in a mood.

Mark whistled lowly, “Damn, Johnny. PS5? And you still suck at gaming.” Johnny shrugged, “whatever, man.” he turned to you, “so, this is your movie night. What do you wanna watch?” you shrugged, remembering how you and Taeyong always watched Marvel movies on Thursdays, ever since you were kids. 

“I don’t know,” you put on a smile, “whatever’s cool with you guys.” you sat down on the couch. Johnny turned on the TV and scrolled through: Netflix, Hulu, Disney Plus, Stan, Amazon Prime, Foxtel, YouTube and Binge. It seemed to be a trend to have every possible streaming service. Your parents had recently added Hulu to their eight-service streaming collection. They never used it.

“Binge,” murmured Jaehyun, “we should watch Game of Thrones.” like he hadn’t watched it ten times already. Mark grinned, though Haechan put his hands up. “Fuck off man. I’m not watching Game of Thrones; it’s too damn long. Besides, you’ll ruin sweet Y/N’s innocence.”

Johnny snorted, opening Binge. You frowned at Haechan’s words, “why? What’s wrong with Game of Thrones? Isn’t it like the Lord of the Rings?” Mark spat out his drink. Yuta scowled, “oh come on Y/N. Don’t tell me you don’t know that Game of Thrones has -”

“Okay!” shouted Johnny, “Game of Thrones it is.” it started out fine enough, just your average fantasy drama. It was a lot like Harry Potter, actually. And then - “OH MY GOD,” you covered your eyes, “oh my god, is that his sister? Jaehyun, is that his sister?” there was no way of hiding the red colour in your cheeks. 

You were too embarrassed. How stupid were you? Mark swatted your hands away, “alright, they’ve stopped now.” you ignored the fact that he was laughing the words. “Why would anyone… THAT’S SO SICK! And they pushed that kid off the building so he wouldn’t see. I hope they die. Who fucks their sister?!” all the guys were laughing, even Haechan.

“Still think it’s like the Lord of the Rings?” grinned Jaehyun. You scowled at him, “no, it’s gross. I don’t wanna watch anymore.” Mark grinned, “it was kinda hot.” your mouth dropped open in horror and you shrieked loudly, grabbing a pillow and smacking him on the head with it. “Mark Lee! Don’t be disgusting!” but all Mark did was laugh, as you attacked him with the pillow.

“I’m being abused!” he screamed from the mountain of pillows, which the guys had helped in piling up, “I’m being abused!” you smacked the Mark-shaped lump with another pillow, “that’s what you get for being disgus - AHH!” someone strong had picked you up and off Mark and the mountain of pillows, lifting you high into the air.

Mark leapt up. “Saved! I have been saved! Come here, Choi Y/N…” but Mark was not fast enough. The person carrying you, Johnny, lifted you up higher and thundered through the house. 

“Johnny!” you giggled his name loudly, “put me down!” but Johnny shook his head. You beat your fists on his back but he didn’t even flinch. “Mm,” you thought out loud, “your cologne smells nice.” almost the same as Taeyong’s. “Yeah, I bet,” Johnny grinned. 

“Son of a bitch!” yelled Mark, “Johnny Suh, get your ass down here so I can kick your butt!” it appeared that he had stubbed his toe. This only made the laughter come out in tears. Johnny put you back down, “let’s go see what Mark’s gotten himself into now.” you giggled at this, nodding.

Taeyong’s date was not going all that well. Isabel, the girl from his psych class, was so fucking dull. Taeyong kept imagining her to be Y/N, how much more interesting she would be. He wasn’t even listening to Isabel at this point. He might be a bad person, but at least he wasn’t as bad as Johnny.

Jesus Christ, fucking Johnny. What the fuck did Y/N see in him? They’d only known each other for two years. Taeyong knew Y/N his whole life, since they were infants. Johnny was an asshole, a dickhead. He treated girls like toys; messing with their emotions just to fuck them and cross them off his list. What the fuck was happening? Oh yeah. Isabel was making a move.

“Mm, yeah,” murmured Taeyong, only half paying attention, “let’s go up to my room.” Fuck Johnny fuck Johnny fuck Johnny fuck - “fuck, Taeyong!” the girl cried out from beneath him. It was only then did he really see her, all dumb and fucked out, completely helpless and completely his. His, his, his. Gosh, how he wanted it to be Y/N so bad. 

But Taeyong kept going. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t stop. Even when he knew that this girl wouldn’t be here tomorrow morning, even though he knew she would leave. He kept going, thrusting inside her throbbing cunt until she let out a gasp of the words, “more, daddy, more.” and something inside Taeyong snapped. He just kept thinking, just keep thinking, how different it would sound if Y/N said it. How whiny, how desperate, how hopeless. “More, Yongie, more.” and he gave her more.

The laughter had finally died down when the pizza arrived. A hawaiian for you and Mark, a meat lovers’ for Jaehyun and Johnny, and a margarita for Haechan and Yuta. Jaehyun scowled at the hawaiian pizza, “pineapple on pizza is gross.” you stuck your tongue out at him, “yeah. And a show where siblings have sex isn’t.” Jaehyun grinned, “touche.” 

Johnny turned to you, “hey Y/N. Ever had sex before?” and you scowled at him, “are you dumb. Of course I have.” Johnny shrugged, “ever had good sex?” and Yuta snorted. You blushed at his words, “yeah. I think so.” Mark grinned at this.

“Ever had sex with Taeyong?” said Yuta, as if it was a question that had slipped out that you weren’t supposed to hear. All three boys glared at him. Yuta shrugged, “it’s a legitimate question!” and you blushed, “um, no. Yongie and I are just friends. He doesn’t like me like that.”

And Johnny let out a loud grumble, “oh my god! Could you not talk about Taeyong for five seconds? He isn’t that great. Y/N, where is he now on your special movie Thursday night?” oh, you’d completely forgotten. “On a date,” you tried not to sound so glum about it. Curse you, Nakamoto Yuta! Making you feel conflicted about two boys.

“Thank you!” said Johnny, spreading his arms wide. “That’s right, Y/N. He’s on a date. On your special Thursday movie night. And what are we doing?” you shrugged, “movie night with the guys.” mumbling the words just to prove Johnny’s point; but right now all you could think about was Taeyong.

How sweet he was. How naturally un-mean. How un-asking. How forgiving. How gentle. How rough he would be in bed; because you didn’t have to sleep with him to know that. No, you chided to yourself. Taeyong is mean. He’s an asshole and he’s controlling. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny… “alright.” Mark got up, “come on, guys. Let’s go.” Yuta and Jaehyun grinned, “thanks for the pizza, Johnny.” and Johnny glared at them as they left, though you weren’t sure if it was playful or not. 

Now that they were gone, the silly school-girl crush came back, and you almost forgot about Taeyong. Almost. You tapped your knee nervously with your pointer finger. Why were you never this uncomfortable with Taeyong? Why was it always so easy with Taeyong? Maybe it was because you knew he would never leave you.

But now he had. Fuck you, Lee Taeyong! I have Johnny now.

“What’s wrong?” said Johnny, closing the pizza boxes, “you okay?” and you blushed bashfully, “yeah. I just…” you shook your head, “no. It’s silly.” knowing that he would probably laugh at you. Johnny frowned, “no, what is it?” and you blushed again, “you’re really hot, Johnny.” mumbling the words. Johnny grinned, “oh yeah?” you nodded shyly at this, “yeah. And I…” your voice drifted off. “And you what, princess?” oh no. That was it. That word. You could just imagine Taeyong saying it. No! Not Taeyong. Johnny. Johnny. Taeyong. Shit! “And I kinda want you to fuck me.” I kinda want Taeyong to fuck me.

The girl, Isabel, got up after a while, sliding on her dress, which was probably the sluttiest thing Taeyong had ever seen in his life. It was not something that Y/N would wear. Taeyong watched as she looked around the blue-LED-light lit room for something. He frowned from his bed, “need help?” and she shook her head, “no. Can’t find my underwear. Doesn’t matter. I’ve got to go. Physics assessment tomorrow. You can chuck them if you find them. Or keep them. Whatever.” 

Johnny had you at his mercy, fingers deep inside your cunt as he thrusted his length into you. He fit just fine, though it was a painful kind of pleasure that he liked to give. "You can take it," he grunted as you mewled beneath him, "come on Y/N. Be a good girl. That's right, sweetheart. Take all that daddy gives you." you'd called him daddy once, and you didn't like how it sounded.

You kept imagining it being Taeyong. You were sure you wouldn't call him daddy. You'd call him something else. It would have the same meaning, just… well, it was completely different.

Taeyong groaned loudly and rolled over in his bed; he'd only bothered to put his boxers back on. He'd thought about bragging to Y/N and the guys about Isabel; the thing she called him. He shook his head. No, that's not the way to win her over. If she even wants me.

Taeyong sighed, clicking on his phone and shutting it back off, the memory of his lockscreen injuring him - their last day of highschool. One of their old friends, Sam, had taken it for them. In the photo, Y/N had stood on her tip-toes to kiss Taeyong on his cheek. He sighed heavily, rolling over into a painful sleep.

You woke in the soft bed with a throbbing headache and aching limbs. What the hell? You looked around the room; you'd never been here before. Oh god. You weren't stupid enough to get your drink spiked, were you? No, no way. The guys always checked first. But you were hungover. That was strange, though, because you didn't remember drinking anything last night.

Think, Y/N, think! What did you do last night? Where were you? Where are you? Well, today is Friday. So it was Thursday yesterday. So... movie night with Taeyong? Fuck. Did you do it with Taeyong? No, that wasn't right. This wasn't his room. There were no blue LED lights, and there was nothing here that was distinctly Taeyong-ish. 

This was not Taeyong's room, and this was not your house. Think harder, moron! What were you doing last night? Game of Thrones, said a voice in your head, we were watching Game of Thrones. Did Jaehyun...? No, you'd been in Jaehyun’s room many times. We had pizza, you recalled suddenly, with Yuta, Haechan and Johnny. And Mark brought soda.

And that's when it dawned on you. "MARK LEE!" you screeched through the phone, ignoring his groggy morning voice, "DID YOU PUT ALCOHOL IN THE SODA LAST NIGHT?" and Mark snickered, "soda? Babe, it was straight vodka." you scowled loudly at this, "FUCK YOU!" Mark laughed heartily, "sure. When?" and you grumbled through the reciever, "fuck you, Mark Lee!" slamming the 'end call' button.

You cried out softly in dismay, shoving your head into your hands as you remembered who you'd spent the night with. Johnny Suh, the one guy Taeyong hated.

Johnny was in the kitchen, you saw him through the open crack of your door. He was eating cereal, though there was no way you were staying. Besides, You weren't really a breakfast person anyway. You fished around the room for your clothes - your sweater that was actually Taeyong's (god, were you so filthy that you let Johnny fuck you in your best friend's sweater?), your underwear, socks, shoes and pants. You shot a quick text. "Need help."

Johnny only saw you when you were in the kitchen. "Hey," he spoke so nonchalantly as if he was used to seeing messy girls in the morning (he is, said the voice in your head, Taeyong's voice), "I was wondering when you were gonna get up. I actually have sports class soon but the guys would kill me if I left you." not, "hey, would you like some breakfast?" just, "the guys would kill me." damn right, they would.

You scoffed lightly, "Well, thanks for the night. I've gotta go, too, so... best we don't speak about this?" Johnny merely grinned, "I think they already know. But yeah. Sure." you rolled your eyes, grabbing an apple from the table. "Well... see you." and Johnny grunted softly.

You were at the door when he looked up again, genuinely concerned. "Hey. How are you getting home?" you chided yourself for thinking it, but shouldn't it have been, "do you want a lift home?" he was your friend, after all. You shrugged, "I'll be fine. Taeyong's getting me." Johnny noded, "alright." though you were unsure now, as Johnny turned back to his food. Would he ever come?

It was nine in the morning when Taeyong woke up, his notifications box going of like an alarm. He had fifteen notifications. A request on Instagram. Two messages on Twitter; which he only ever used to preserve memes within his friendship group. Five snaps from his friends. 

Six updates from YouTube. And a text from Y/N.

"Need help. @ Johnny's." even though he was worried, Taeyong couldn't help but smile. Who used the @ symbol anymore? Y/N texted like a grandma. Taeyong sighed, rolling his eyes at the "Johnny" part. Fucking Johnny. But he got up anyway.

It was only a short drive to his house, he'd been there a few times, and he hated it every time he came here. The Suhs were show-offs; with their stupid chendeliers and their stupid son.

Taeyong didn't come out of the car. He knew if he did, Johnny would probably have a broken nose. So he waited inside, tires screeching on the pavement. The door to Johnny's house opened. Fucking Johnny. Oh, it was Y/N.

Taeyong rolled down the window, "get in." Taeyong said nothing, watching you from the corner of his eye as he drove. It was only a few seconds until you broke.

"I'm sorry," Taeyong tried to be angry at you, but it was hard when you were sobbing in the passenger seat of his car. He said nothing, just nodded. "I… I should've listened… Mark…" you sniffed, and that was when he reacted. "Mark?" he couldn't stop the anger from blazing in his eyes, "you fucked Mark?" he swore under his breath, "dammit, Y/N. You need to stop fucking your -" but you shook your head, "n - no. M - Mark didn't… he brought a - alcohol and I didn't know it was alcohol and then the guys left and I was alone with Johnny and he…" 

"And he what, Y/N?" Taeyong's voice was dangerously quiet. "What, Y/N?" he said, louder this time. "Did he do something you didn't want? I need you to tell me."

"No!" you cried out loudly, shaking your head. "N - no, I wanted to. I... I think. I think I wanted to," your voice drifted off. "I wanted to when we were doing it. l... I don't think I want to now... I… Yongie!" and you burst into an explosion of tears.

"It's okay," said Taeyong gently, "you don't have to do it again," he was so patient, so patient. "You don't have to ever again if you don't want to. You know that, right?"

You nodded, hiccuping. Then you started crying again, "but I wanna!" and Taeyong sighed, "okay, then I'll drive you back to Johnny's and you can..." but this only made you more hysterical. "Not Johnny," you whined loudly. I don't... not..." you trailed off again.

"Well, we can't stay in here forever. Come on, Y/N." Taeyong unbuckled your seatbelt. "Hey, come on." he coaxed you out of the car. Your brain must be in overload drive right now, so hysterical. Something must have happened last night that made you snap. Taeyong was gonna beat the shit out of Johnny Suh.

Or maybe it wasn't Johnny, said the voice of reason in Taeyong's head, maybe she was just upset about something else. Really uset. And maybe she didn't know what it was. That was more likely than Johnny being a dick. Well, more of a dick.

And, as he sat Y/N down on his bed, that was when it hit him; why she was so hysterical, and... indecisive.

It was because of him. Because Y/N been harping on and on about Johnny for months, ever since Yuta's party. Taeyong had been telling her and telling her that he was a bad person; that Johnny didn't deserve her. In fact, now he remembered asking her, "don't you see all the girls he sleeps with?" some few days ago.

Taeyong wanted to kick himself. It was his fault yn was like this. He should've just confessed, rather than messing with her emotions, instead of implanting things that weren't true in her mind: that Johnny treated women like toys; that Y/N loved him, Taeyong, more. 

Something must have happened that night when she and Johnny were having sex. She must've thought of something, remembered something or seen something that reminded her of Taeyong, just how Taeyong had weeks ago. It would've ridden her with guilt. And of course, she wouldn't be able to remember what it was because she was drunk, but she would remember she didn't want Johnny. She just wouldn't know what for. Taeyong was going to kick himself.

Your stomach lurched. God, you were a lightweight. How much did Mark even give you last night...? Oh no. Oh, no, no, no. Well, you thought to yourself, as you ran to Taeyong's bathroom, now I know why I was feeling so heated up.

Taeyong held your hair for you, muttering an angry, "fuck you, Mark Lee," under his breath as you retched, crying softly. You hated vomiting. Especially on an empty stomach. It hurt.

He sighed, rubbing your back gently. You sucked in two breaths, exhaled one. Then you got up, turned around. You shoved your head into Taeyong's shirt. "I love you," whispering the words. Taeyong sighed, lifting you up gently. "Come on," he said quietly, "I'm gonna put you to sleep, okay? I'll wake you up tomorrow…"

Taeyong sighed heavily as he rolled you gently into his bed, pulling the navy blue sheets over your tiny body, drawing the blinds. Then he got up, "good night." turning to the door. You mumbled softly into his pillow, "'night Yongie."

Once he composed himself, Taeyong opened his laptop, taking a look at his psychology assignment. He figured if he wasn't going in today he might as well try to get some work done, but after five minutes, he found it impossible to concentrate.

His thoughts kept lingering. Your soft hair. The sight of you in his sweater. How small you were. How dainty you were. The size of your wrist next to his. The sound of your whines. The way you said his name. Those three words: "I love you". Spilled out in a time of vulnerability. You probably didn't even know what you were saying.

Taeyong groaned, shifting in his jeans. Fuck. He looked to the closed door of his bedroom, where you were sleeping peacefully, in his clothes, in his sheets, in his bed. His, his, his. FUCK!

He threw his head back and groaned loudly, and that was when he heard it. Coming from inside his bedroom. "Taeyong." you sniffed his name. His stomach flipped and he swore under his breath before getting back up and walking over. He opened the door a few inches, enough to poke his head through. "Yeah?" 

It was obvious that you'd had some sleep, you already looked better. It had only been an hour, but for Taeyong, it felt like minutes. You turned over on your side to face him. "Can you come in. Please." and Taeyong looked away, "it's not a good idea." knowing exactly what would happen. He couldn't control himself. You whined softly, "please, Yongie. Just cuddles. I don't wanna be alone." and Taeyong sighed heavily, "alright." 

Cuddling is a normal thing, thought Taeyong to himself, you and Y/N do it all the time. It's no big deal. Even the nickname. She's been calling you that since you were kids. It's not meant to be dirty.

It's not meant to be dirty, he kept telling himself, as he slid next to you under the sheets, it's not meant to be dirty, he told himself, as you shuffled around with your body pressed into him, it's not meant to be dirty, he told himself, as you span around to nestle your head in his shirt, it's not meant to be dirty, he said to himself, as you hitched your breath and leaned over and kissed him on the lips. It's meant to be dirty. FUCK!

"Y/N..." he said softly, "what are you doing?" looking deep inside your eyes, searching for a proper answer, other than the hungover words of, "I love you". You looked up at him, eyes watering. "I'm sorry," you whispered, dropping your arms. "I just..." Taeyong grabbed your left arm as it was moving, pinned it on the sheets. He smirked at the gasp that escaped your lips, before leaning down and sealing the kiss himself. This was the part he feared the most. If it wasn't just an accidental kiss. If it wasn't just a needy, in-the-moment kiss....

But then you kissed him back. Writhing beneath him. Kissing his lips desperately like it was the last thing you would ever do. Murmuring his name, "Taeyong, Taeyong, Taeyong," in the exact way he'd imagined it.

But then he stopped, remembering the horrible state you'd been in only a few hours ago. You froze, "Taeyong?" and he saw the fear swimming in your eyes. He brushed away a strand of hair from your forehead. "Are you sure you wanna do this, baby?" and your face rounded, "oh." and Taeyong frowned, "what?" and you spoke the words in a whisper, "I thought you were gonna leave me." looking away immeаdietly, ashamed.

Taeyong cupped your chin with his thumb and pointer finger, turning your head to face him. "I'm never going to leave you," the words so sweet and sincere that you knew for a second you wouldn't doubt them. "Johnny wanted me to leave," you admitted, "after." there was hurt in Taeyong's eyes, "I'm not Johnny." you leaned in to kiss him, "I know."

Taeyong shot you a quizzical look. "So you really want to do this?" and you nodded, "yes." he smiled, kissing your neck softly. 

Taeyong was slow and gentle when he took off your clothes; unlike Johnny, who inhaled your sweater and said, "is this Taeyong's?" and ripped it off. Then he slid off the sorts carefully, tracing gently along the lines of where your underwear touched your legs. He kissed your tummy softly and the butterflies fluttered in your stomach, "I'll go easy on you." you laughed quietly at this, "it's okay, Taeyong. I'm just another girl." the tone flipped here, as he looked you cold in the eyes and said, "you're not."

Your body shivered at his touch. He wasn't as tall as Johnny, but he was still proportioned larger than you. Your wrist was tiny against his, even though he was petite.

He constantly kept checking in on you, as he left kisses on your skin, marking every inch of your body as his. "Are you okay?" he said, over and over. "Do you wanna stop? We don't have to continue." even though you told him there was nothing more you wanted to continue in the world.

After a while, he got the hint. You'd been wrapped around his finger since you were kids. Now, as he dove his tongue inside you, finger hooked within your cunt, you were his.

Your sounds were long and breathy. A mixture of lustful moans and cries for more. His name, slipping through your lips. "Please. Taeyong. Please." only spurring him to give you more. You whimpered under him, "need you." breathlessly.

He ignored you, "not yet." the hum of his words sending vibrations up your body. You whined and bucked your hips, "Yongie. Please." and he snapped; because it. Was fucking. Dirty.

"Fuck," he cursed as he lifted up his head, unbuckling his belt. You stared at him. "Taeyong. You're too... I don't think I can..." but Taeyong shook his head, "you can. You can. Fuck! I don't have a condom." getting up.

You pulled him back down, "it's okay," whining, "please. I'm on the pill. Yongie. Please." kissing him again. Taeyong swore, "fuck." lowering back down.

"You can take it," he coaxed gently, speaking into the kiss, gripping your right hand softly as you arched beneath him. "You can take it," groaned, "you can take it, come on, I know you can." he was still kissing you, as he moved and spoke. "You can take it." one last kiss. Taeyong whimpered and dropped your hand. "Fuck," he whispered, "good girl." you sniffed, feeling stretched and full.

"It's okay," Taeyong whispered, "you're okay, sweetheart. I've got you. I've got you." he slid in and out, whimpering and groaning. "Feel so good," he whined, "feels so good, baby." you hummed at this, unable to make up a coherent sentence. "T'yongie," you whined, "wanna cum." and he cursed, "fuck. Just hang on. Can you do that for me? Please." and you nodded, yes, you'd do anything for him.

Taeyong kissed you again, "good girl," taking your hand in his once more. His hand. Not Johnny's. His, his, his. Taeyong bit softly on your neck, whining into it. "Baby," he stuttered, "so hot for me, baby." you cried and nodded at his words. 

"Who are you hot for, baby?" that didn't make sense, said the last bit of consciousness in your brain. "You," you gasped out. "Who?" he whispered again, kissing your bosom. You arched your back, "y - you, Yongie," he looked drawn, but still he asked, "Who?" and as he spilled, as you finally let go, you cried it out softly. "You, Taeyong." 

And Taeyong smiled as he kissed you, because he knew now. You were his. His. Not Johnny's. Not anyone else's. His.

nct masterlist

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[ace-of-hearts-and-spades]

Okay I had to read this twice bc it was so scrumptious that I wanted to savor it again and also I needed the second reading to organize my thoughts. We’re coming out of the tags for this babyyyy. Anyways. Somewhat coherent ramblings under the cut.

I’m obsessed with how you captured Randy and Benson as characters. Benson’s sharp, sudden movements that always seem to have an edge of aggression and unpredictability – immediately and sharply driving off the road to switch places with Randy, grabbing the jacket to use as a pillow. And sticking his head out of the window like a fuckin dog!!! He fuckin would!! I can fucking picture it. And Randy flinching at almost every damn thing, every noise and movement. Mentally playing out the things he wants to do and say but struggling to actually do them. Wanting so badly to be helpful and be trustworthy and be good for Benson. Sweetie you are down so bad and you don’t even realize it.

As always, I’m in love with the visuals and descriptions you use. I’m just gonna throw some of my favorite bits in and commentate on em okay. Okay.

“Fear still gnaws at the edges of him, jittery and mean like rats in the walls, but it’s not the same.”

MMMM fuck yeah this is good shit. 10/10 imagery. Perfect for these two.

“He gets out and the breeze hits his face, smells a little like home and a little bit different.”

FUCK DUDE the visceral longing this line hit me with……… oof. Just OOF. And then Randy wondering if he and Benson could see all the 50 states together. God.

“He's been wearing his shirt for two days now, the smell of stale cigarette smoke working itself into his skin. It's like he's being assimilated, wrapped in a cocoon of brash words and an army green jacket.”

Oh mannn. Within the span of a couple days, Randy’s life has been so irrecoverably changed and torn off course because of Benson. They’ve become intimately familiar in a way that isn’t quite covered in a single word, but maybe assimilation is the best way to describe it. A sort of codependence that neither intended and neither can quite pull themselves out of. Something something the lines between you and me are starting to blur something something. So wonderfully captured here.

And Benson calling Randy “Good boy”??????????? Hello????????????? God??????????? I need to sit down I need to think about this. Good Lord. Yeah I think Randy would enjoy being told he’s a good boy, IN A VARIETY OF CONTEXTS 👀 but nay we shan’t linger on that. Onward we go.

“It's a cute snore, kind of nasally and pitched higher than his voice. He slams the door on that thought the moment it arrives, shoos it away and casts a guilty look over at Benson.”

BUDDYYYYYYYYYYYY YOU’RE DOWN BAD FOR HIS UNSTABLE ASS DON’T LIE TO ME. It’s always the lil disarming things. And then the section where Randy thinks about Benson pre-everything, about the two different “sides”…….. man. Much to ponder. Much to think about. And wanting to be someone Benson can count on. Oughhh that got me in the heart a lil.

“His shirt rides up and in the dark of the dawn Randy can just make out the triangle of hair on his stomach. He bites his cheek.”

I think I’m going to be ill actually ‼️‼️………. AND ON THAT NOTE I THINK I’LL STOP. I’m rambling a lot and I’m not sure what I’m saying is making any sense, but I hope Randy and Benson find a lil motel to stay at and oopsie maybe there’s only one bed HMMMM sdhgshdsd. This was FANTASTIC and I’m obsessed and I’m thinking so many thoughts about them rn. Good good GOOD fuckin shit here. Delicious. Thank u for this meal Meg this is canon to me 🙏💜

the driver

it turns out I am chewing on them every moment of every day. I'm sure this fic will permanently satisfy the hunger of course ✨🌷🙃

2.3k words. character study happy ending post-credits type beat where everyone lives and drives off into the sunset together. pre-slash but Randy is so down bad he doesn't know how to cope. nobody do the math on mileage or drive time I made it all up Minnesota isn't even real

They’re about 50 miles over the Missouri border when Benson asks him. 

“You think you could drive, man?” 

Randy looks at him sharply, not sure he heard him right. He must not have heard him right. 

Benson glances over and his eyes are bloodshot beyond belief, the skin beneath them dark and hollow. His crow’s feet have multiplied. “I gotta sleep, Randy, or we’re gonna end up in a ditch.” 

After a beat of careful consideration, Randy nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I could–I can drive.” 

The car lurches to the right as Benson pulls over immediately, puts it in park and slumps in his seat. His head falls back against the headrest and he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck.” 

Randy watches him with an intent he can feel but can’t parse, hasn’t been able to parse all day and the night before and the day before that. He stopped being scared, really scared, a while ago. Fear still gnaws at the edges of him, jittery and mean like rats in the walls, but it’s not the same.

He’s no longer afraid Benson might kill him. He’s afraid he might decide he doesn’t need him anymore. And those are different things. 

Benson’s big hands drop into his lap. He stares blankly through the windshield at the half-set sun, exhausted.

Randy has the urge to touch him. To clap a hand on his shoulder, give it a little shake. He plays it out in his head. Yeah, man. I’ll drive for a while. Don’t worry about it. Get some rest.

His hands stay clasped between his thighs. 

“Don’t really know where we’re goin’, so I guess you can just pick a direction,” Benson says. “Anywhere but back that way.” He shoots Randy a pointed look, but the point is dull and bleary. 

Randy nods. “North. I got it.” You can trust me. I know that sounds like bullshit, but it’s not.

Benson pours out of the car like his bones are dissolving. He stretches mightily, arches his back and groans loudly, and Randy flinches and doesn’t know why. 

He gets out and the breeze hits his face, smells a little like home and a little bit different. He gazes down the highway, tracks it all the way to where it disappears beyond a sun-washed hill. He’s never been this far north before, never been out of Louisiana except for a family reunion in Florida one time. 

He wonders, for a second, if maybe they could see them all. All fifty states. Benson’s car might not make it that many miles. But it would be something. It would be cool. 

“You sure you’re good?” 

Randy turns, squints into the sun. Benson is lit from behind, face in shadow, but Randy can feel his eyes, the way they probe like fingers at his mouth, his neck. 

“I’m good.” 

Benson taps his fist against the roof of the car. “Super.” 

They trade sides, cross paths in front of the bumper. Randy slides into the seat and it’s still warm from Benson’s body. He feels like he's sitting in his shadow. He's been wearing his shirt for two days now, the smell of stale cigarette smoke working itself into his skin. It's like he's being assimilated, wrapped in a cocoon of brash words and an army green jacket. He presses his spine against the backrest and folds his arms around himself without thinking about it. 

Benson yanks open the door and snaps him out of it. He sits forward and feels under the seat for the lever to slide it up a few inches, touches something sticky, makes a face. Benson’s got longer legs than he does, even though they're about the same height. Benson is big in Randy's mind. Or maybe Randy is small. Does Benson think he's small?

Like he can read his mind, or thinks he can, Benson shoves his seat way back. “Jesus, Randy, you’re allowed to take up space,” he mutters as he pushes the backrest almost horizontal. 

No one’s ever told him that before. Does Benson know no one’s told him that before? 

“Don’t wreck my fucking car.” 

“I won’t.” 

“And don’t get pulled over.” 

“I won’t.” 

Benson nods once like a punctuation mark. “Good boy.” 

Randy exhales heavily. 

He buckles up, hesitates as he sets his hands on the wheel. Ten and two. He slides them together to meet at twelve, where Benson always grips the wheel with half a hand, pointing at things, eyes anywhere but the road, talking with his whole body. Then he slides them back to ten and two, at least for now. One thing at a time.

He signals before he pulls back onto the road even though there’s not another car in sight. He presses the gas gently, like he’s wiping a smudge off someone’s cheek. And just like that, they're back on their way.

Benson’s car is old as shit and runs like it’s doing him a favor. It takes Randy a minute to get used to it, the resistance of the pedals and the way the wheel is about as sensitive as the bottom of a work boot. He’s careful with it, not because it’s old or unreliable, but because it’s his. Because he’s trusting him with it. 

He’s the driver now. 

Benson moves in his periphery, fast and sudden like he does, and without meaning to Randy jerks, jerks the wheel. Benson gives him a look, reaching around for something in the backseat. “Sorry,” Randy mumbles. 

“Just be cool,” Benson says with his jacket in his hands. He balls it up to use as a pillow, shifts around, settles in and shuts his eyes. 

Be cool, Randy repeats to himself. Be cool, be cool. 

“Are you…going to buckle your seatbelt?” he asks. He’s been waiting to ask. Now seems like the last opportune moment. 

Benson opens his eyes and looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “What are you, a fuckin’ cop?” 

Randy feels his face flush. He looks away. “Sorry. Do whatever you want.” 

“You know if you slam on the brakes and I’m layin’ down like this I’m goin’ through the windshield, seatbelt or no.” 

“Do whatever you want,” Randy says again. “I’m just…trying to be safe.” 

Benson grabs the seatbelt, yanks it across his chest, clicks it into place with attitude. “Happy?” 

Randy glances at him and away, almost smiles in spite of himself. Yeah. “Yeah.” For once, he thinks he might really mean it. 

Benson grumbles and closes his eyes. He fidgets for a while, bullies the jacket into a different shape, but soon he falls still and quiet. Randy figures he has nothing left in the tank after the events of the last thirty-six hours, nothing more to give to Randy or anybody else.

He drives like the backseat is full of fine china, nice and easy, until Benson starts to snore. It's a cute snore, kind of nasally and pitched higher than his voice. He slams the door on that thought the moment it arrives, shoos it away and casts a guilty look over at Benson.

He’s never seen him look so at peace. There's a tension missing from his face, a furrow between his brows that Randy only registers in its absence. He wonders if he has nightmares like Randy has nightmares. Probably. Probably worse. But there’s no sign of them now; he’s too wiped out. 

Now that he’s not waving a gun around and yelling, he resembles the old Benson. The guy who greeted him at the start of each shift with a casual wave and nothing to say. The man who moved like he was in a dream, seemed checked out completely until you caught his eye and realized he hadn't missed a second of what was going on around him. Not even the little things. Not even Randy.

As the miles wear on, he wonders which Benson is more real, the quiet one or the loud one. Maybe they’re two sides of the same coin. Maybe everyone has someone else inside of them, raw and bright, harder to swallow. Randy always figured he was the only one slumming around with that particular burden–the monster of his guilt, his anger, feelings too big to unbottle lest they rip him in half–but maybe he was wrong. He's been wrong a lot the last couple days. 

It doesn’t probably matter which is more real because he likes them both:  the Benson who once followed him out the back door under the guise of a smoke break to make sure he was okay after a particularly egregious run-in with Chris, and the Benson who beat the shit out of his own personal boogeyman in the parking lot of an elementary school until his hands bled. Randy understands both of them. Feels a connection to both of them. Knows he can count on both of them when it matters. 

Randy leans back and feels it then, feels it all, the world shrinking behind them, the past pinned to it like a poster on a corkboard, the dying sun to his left and the man on his right and Benson’s fingerprints worn into the leather of the steering wheel. And it's exhilarating, it's amazing. It's freedom and possibility. Hope, even.

And he desperately, deep in his bones, wants to be someone Benson can count on. When it matters or doesn't. He knows he isn’t a fighter or a talker, but he cares. He cares so fucking much sometimes he wants to bite through his own tongue. Maybe that could be worth something. For the first time, sitting in the driver's seat on the run from the law, he thinks maybe that might be enough. He might be enough. 

He has Benson to thank for that, too.

He hasn't felt like this since he was a kid. Maybe ever. Light. Free. The way the highway unfolds in front of him forever makes him feel like maybe he could fly. He kind of wishes it would rain and he can't say why. Only that he wants the air to smell like wet asphalt, like dirt. 

And he wants to thank Benson. He doesn’t think he can, like, he can’t just say it. Thanks for killing all those people. It really opened my eyes. Thanks for scaring me shitless, I needed that. No way. He’s gotta be cool. Find some other way.

He reads the names of towns he’s never heard of on the highway sign. They’ll have to stop somewhere eventually, right? Get a motel room or something. Benson deserves to sleep in a real bed. Randy would love to sleep in a real bed. Probably they’ve got to lay low a little while longer. Probably two states north isn’t far enough. 

Benson drives like a grandma. Randy hasn’t said anything, but he figures they could be at least to the border of Iowa by now if Benson wasn’t so hung up on driving three miles under the speed limit and calling it “flying under the radar,” even as cars peeled by them on all sides. 

But he’s the driver now. 

He realizes this is something he can do. A way to repay him, just a little bit. Randy didn’t get them into this mess, not exactly, but he can get them far, far away from it. Safety, serenity. A place where no one knows their faces. He can find that for Benson. He can take him there. He can make sure he wakes up somewhere better than the shithole behind them.

He eases his foot down on the gas, coaxes the needle on the speedometer up and over 80. The car huffs a protest, but it obeys. 

Good boy, he thinks, and he smiles. 

Benson stirs just after they leave Iowa. It’s still dark out, but the horizon is starting to bleed pink. He sits up slowly, stretches, nearly elbows Randy in the face. “Fuck,” he groans, “what time is it?” 

“Breakfast time, almost,” Randy says. “Just looking for somewhere to stop.” 

Benson blinks around the sleep in his eyes, peers through the window into the dark rushing by. “Where are we?” 

“Wisconsin. Or maybe Minnesota. I’m not…a hundred percent sure.” 

Benson furrows his brow. “Jesus Christ, Randy. You break the fuckin' sound barrier?”

“No,” Randy says calmly. “Everyone speeds on the interstate. You just keep an eye on it, it's fine.”

Benson gives him a long look and for a second, Randy thinks he might be mad. But then he breaks into a grin, chuckles, shakes his head and stretches again. His shirt rides up and in the dark of the dawn Randy can just make out the triangle of hair on his stomach. He bites his cheek. 

“Speed Demon Bradley. Who’d’ve thought.” Benson yanks the backrest up, sits back and looks out with fresh eyes on new scenery. “You got a destination in mind, captain?”

Randy does. Has for the last few hundred miles. “Yeah. I was thinking…maybe Lake Superior?”

“What's so superior about it?”

“I don't know, it's…really big. Like…huge. I just thought…it would probably be pretty. I’d–I’d like to see it.” With you. I'd like you to be there too.

He glances over and Benson is staring at him with an odd look on his face. 

“...what?” Randy says. 

Benson starts nodding, frowning thoughtfully, then reaches over and thumps Randy on the chest. “Then let's go see it.”

The impact echoes through his heart and lungs. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah. Randy makin’ decisions.” Benson claps his hands once, loud. “I like it. You wanna go see some big fuckin’ lake? I'm all for it.”

Randy fights a grin and doesn't know why, so he stops, lets it come, feels the stretch of it across his face. “Cool.”

Randy looks over and thinks he’s beautiful. Bloody knuckles, bad attitude, and all. He lets that thought linger for one, two, three seconds before it blows out the window like a wayward receipt.

“Cool.”

Benson rolls down the window and sticks his head out like a dog. The air whipping into the car smells nothing like home. His hair blows back and he squints into the wind, the early sun kissing his cheeks pink. 

“I can take over,” Benson offers over his shoulder. “I’m guessin' you need a break.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Randy squeezes his hands on the wheel at ten and two. “I got it. I'm good.”

And he really means it.

[n3onguts]

pride and prejudice (02): niceties and pleasantries.

summary — in recent years, scientists found that the neurological line between the emotions of love and hate is much thinner than previously thought. beomgyu’s about to discover just how right they are.

genre&tags — written chapter, 1k+ words, angst-ish (?), tsuki the band makes their first appearance, soobin has a fat crush on kai (nothing new...), y/n and the park twins are assholes

warning(s) — swearing, alcohol consumption

a/n — tbh soobin’s probably soliloquized ab kai the way he does in this irl. also this incorporates the derogatory use of the term “bitch” towards a woman by a man which i do not condone however i think it’s important to consider each character’s perspective. other than that, enjoy!

She’d be cute if she wasn’t so goddamned rude — that’s Beomgyu’s first thought about you. His second thought is about how unfortunate that is. What a waste.

Jump back to 20 minutes ago at the Bulldog, before you’d entered his life and right after Yeonjun’s just demolished that last E-minor chord to cap off their performance. Sat on his makeshift throne at the back of the speakeasy’s rickety, pocket-sized stage, Beomgyu’s hands go limp around his drumsticks. Sweat-streaked and heart-flying, he’s got that addictive blend of applause-induced euphoria and post-show adrenaline running through his bloodstream all over again. The house lights are burning his retinas so that the audience is reduced to a blinding mass of indistinct bodies, and when he looks over to his bandmates (Yeonjun first, then Yeji, then Kai), he can’t help but grin at how they’re sure as shit going through the same manic high that he is right now, all flushed and glowing, as invincible as the gods themselves. Especially Kai — who’s beaming like he was born for this. And he probably was, Beomgyu thinks to himself, with that honey-coated voice of his that only knew how to sing of aching hearts: a mesmerizing contradiction if there ever was one. Beomgyu doesn’t care about winning anymore (and he never really did, in the first place), because in this nanosecond of time, they’re undefeated.

When he descends from the platform, his once-white towel slung over his shoulder, it’s a little past midnight and his ecstasy’s rolled over to let the inevitable fatigue kick in. Almost instantaneously, Beomgyu’s flooded by a raucous mob of well-wishers and the humidity emanating from the crowd overwhelms him. He’s grateful — truly, he is — but he concludes that he could definitely use a swig from whatever hard drink the Bulldog has in stock and trudges through the horde of people, churning out thank you’s in all directions.

He surveys the mellowed-out scene at the bar, squints when he spots Kai and his signature fluff of caramel-colored hair huddled in conversation with an unknown foursome a few steps away. He’s enjoying himself, it seems, from the way he throws his head back, unrestrained like sunshine, when he laughs. There’s an embarrassed grin permanently etched on Kai’s face as he speaks to the tallest of the group — this lanky, dimpled dude who’s nursing a beer in one hand and gesticulating wildly with the other. The moment’s broken, however, when Kai catches Beomgyu’s curious eyes and waves him over. The elder boy follows, greeting Kai upon arrival with a breezy hey, Hueningie! and sending easy smiles to the four strangers.

“Beomgyu-hyung, meet my new friends — Soobin, his sister, Y/N, and the Park twins, Wonyoung and Sunghoon.” Kai says, commencing introductions. “They go to UofS too and, get this, Y/N’s majoring in film, just like you!”

Across from him, the red-cheeked Soobin offers Beomgyu his hand first and refuses to let go as he rambles on, “Hey, man! Big fan. I actually hadn’t heard of Tsuki before tonight, but you guys were in-fucking-sane, like, deadass, I’ve never been moved like that by music. Not even kidding, I almost cried when you guys were playing that one song �� ‘I Know I Love You’, I think? — ‘cause, I mean, just, y’know, Kai’s voice, like, c’mon.”

Soobin’s eyes are locked on Kai’s, shiny and glinting as he drowns the latter with stuttered compliments. This kind of attention is nothing novel to Kai, who’s had girls and guys alike turn soft at his finely-cut face and warm exterior, yet for this dorky kid, Beomgyu observes, his friend’s become all dopey and giggling. The air’s buzzing with a palpable inkling of something and Beomgyu swallows down his suspicions with a knowing smirk.

Stuck in their own little world, Beomgyu leaves the pair alone and scans the three that were camouflaged earlier by the flickering lights of the bar. Next to Soobin, clustered and cliquish as they sit idly atop the barstools, are the twins. Both sporting bored expressions, both tap-tap-tapping away at their phones. The chick is glossy, the guy is sleek, and the tableau of them together — looking like they’ve just lept right off the pages of one of those glitzy fashion magazines — clashes with the seedy interiors of the Bulldog. Beomgyu waits for a millennium and more, yet neither acknowledges his existence. Then, miffed, his gaze finally lands on you, leaned against the concrete counter. You swish the contents of your red cup around in a hypnotic circle, notice his stare. And when you return it, face him through the dingy blue glow of the night, Beomgyu is unnerved by the sight that greets him: a girl, intimidatingly stone-faced and utterly, frustratingly out-of-his-league.

“Y/N, right?” He slides it out, all casual, and it earns him a short, curt nod. “You’re a film major at UofS too, huh? My condolences then if you’ve ever spoken to Professor Ahn one-on-one — his coffee breath has been smelling like literal ass ever since he got tenure.”

“Funny.” You deadpan, voice dripping with sarcasm.

It takes him by surprise, your iciness, but he’s undeterred regardless. Extroversion is inherent to his nature. Strangers are just friends you haven’t made yet — or however that cheesy saying goes, right? “So. Did you enjoy the show?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you like Tsuki’s set?”

“Yup.”

“Kai’s got a sick voice, doesn’t he?”

“Totally.”

And then, cocky and playful like it’s no big deal: “And that drummer’s pretty cool too, right?”

At this, you pause, halt to make a face like you’re mulling it over. “Debatable.” You finally spit out, facade-unimpressed. The message is undeniably clear — and it’s one that’s meant to cut.

Silence permeates the air between you two. What the hell is your problem? Beomgyu wonders. Acting all high and mighty for no fucking reason. Whatever heart-thumping attraction he’d felt initially had metamorphosed into animosity almost as rapidly as it had begun. He’s trying his very best with you, waiting for you to throw him some kind of lifeline, but you’re offering little niceties and even less pleasantries. It’s crueler than ignoring him, if anything. He’s now desperate to check the fuck out of this sad conversation and order some sweet relief in the form of a vodka shot. It’ll sting a lot — like you do — but at least it’ll go down way smoother and much easier.

“Well… It was nice to meet you.” A lie, undoubtedly. “I’m gonna head off, look for my other bandmates.” He doesn’t bother to wait for your response, just mumbles some half-hearted excuse to Kai and rushes away, thinking, heatedly, what a bitch.

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[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.”