#someone's got to tell the tale. whether or not it turns out well

[transingthoseformers]

With how later iterations of Transformers post G1 tend to to with the scenario of 'Optimus and Megatron knew each other before the war, trusted and perhaps cared about each other to some degree, but become fated enemies' but occasionally they DO reconcile or at least no longer need to hold onto their grievances over the other to the point of war, I'm reminded of the first song in Hadestown. How some parts of the lyrics kinda ironically fit them.

'See, someone's got to tell the tale

Whether or not it turns out well

Maybe it will turn out this time!'

'It's a sad song!

It's a sad tale, it's a tragedy!'

'It's a tale of a love from long ago

It's a sad song

It's sad song!

But we're gonna sing it even so'

Whenever a new version of Transformers comes out, comes another universe of Optimus and Megatron being tied together in the best and especially the WORST of ways. Nowadays, there's hope they'll make it to walking on the same road again. But even then, that's still a maybe. [Looks at TF One]

YEAH YEAH YEAH IT'S SUCH A THING ISN'T IT??

[akicklineisinevitable]

something about Hatchetfield is so Hadestown coded. something about how it's a sad tale, but we sing it anyway. as if it will turn out this time. (i'll find you in the next timeline). something about how not everyone can make it out, and those that do don't make it out unchanged. something about love that was doomed from the start (wait for me? i will) (when you shipped out, i thought i'd wait for you). something about how the scenery changes, but the stories are the same. something about it was a world of gods and men (there are monsters and there are men).

[fact-dogsarehappiness]

Me, watching Merlin for the millionth time: I sure do wish nothing bad happens this time around

[notnormalatal]

One of the reasons i think people still rewatch or reread or reconsume tragedies in any type of shape and form is because we all have a little bit of hope that it will turn out different this time. 

We still have hope that Anakin Skywalker won’t turn to the dark side; we still have hope that Patroclus won’t take Achilles armour and run out in battle; we still have hope that Orpheus won’t turn around to see if Eurydice still follows him; we still have hope that Romeo and Juliet will finally be able to escape together without any of them dying. 

Even if we’ve seen or heard or read these and so many other stories and tales (from all over the world!!!) a thousand times before in different versions and retellings, there will always be that little bit of hope that the ending will change. And that THIS time, this time they will have their happy ending.  

[randomnessoffiction]

♫See, someone's got to tell the tale Whether or not it turns out well Maybe it will turn out this time On the road to Hell On the railroad line!♫

[i-lavabean]

See someone's got to tell the tale, whether or not it turns out well

Maybe it will turn out this time

[moonlight-prose]

STRANGE ADDICTION

➻ 01. BEAUTIFUL DEATH

a/n: i have rewritten this chapter about two times just to get it right. i want it to feel like the show, but also i'm a perfectionist when it comes to posting in a new fandom. this story has been in my head since s1 dropped and well it feels great to finally put it somewhere. even if the love for silco has sorta died down. i've had the most fun writing this so i hope you enjoy!

summary: dinner with an old friend leads to revelations about your past. about whether you chose the right path - the future meant for you. or if time indeed stands still beyond what science and magic tells you.

word count: 4.5k+

pairing: silco x f!reader; viktor x f!reader (platonic)

warnings: not explicit, angst, friendships, flashbacks, arguing, hesitation to tell the truth, pining (not by reader), the haunting of past relationships.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

The sun beat down harder than ever before. A bright scorching ball of light that seemed intent on searing through the fabric of your gown. Although you weren't entirely opposed, given the weight of the material that clung to your skin.

It seemed that the sun favored topside more than anywhere else. You'd known this for a while, your eyes fixed on the horizon at each turning of the clock. Dusk assumed its duties for the day, bringing forth the moon that hid until the time was right to reveal herself. Flames licked across the sky and suddenly you were a child again. Stunned by the magnificence and beauty of something so normal.

When you were younger you held the belief that only those in the grand city would be able to witness this. To watch as sunset broke along brilliant blue before sinking below—away from the towers of the grand house.

Although the term house felt humble and dishonest given the lavish setting. Castle seemed like a better word. Or kingdom.

Piltover. The land of progress.

How ironic that just below the surface lay the vastness of a city that thrived on the opposite. You felt like royalty amidst the opulence around you. Someone who was crowned long ago by the people who deemed you worthy enough. Yet it wasn't that long ago that you were a young kid vying for a glimpse at a clear sky. Topside rarely accepted those that didn't belong; unsurprising but still a bitter disappointment.

How you managed to trick them—fool their wits—into allowing you access escaped you.

This felt too extravagant. So unlike the person you once knew. It felt fictional. A tale as old as time now finally bestowed upon someone like you.

"Unbelievable," you muttered, eyes wide at the brilliant orange that painted itself over pinks and yellows.

A voice echoed in the distance, someone calling your name, and with a sigh you were pulled away from the ambience of this view. You preferred a chance to stay here but you recognized the lilt of his voice, the familiar drawl of his words. With a sigh you let go of the balcony railing and turned towards the room you were staying in. His room. He offered and gave no room for an argument.

That didn't stop you from trying.

"Dinner is being planned," he announced, balancing his weight on the cane held in his tight grip.

"All this trouble isn't necessary." Pulling the chair by his bed close, you took the opposite one with a grin. "I'm not that important."

He huffed, long and loud enough to keep you quiet. "I don't see you often enough. Dinner is the least I can do."

"Viktor–" His hand went up before you could state your case—the argument ready to fly off the tip of your tongue.

"I've argued with you enough over the years to know when you will start." His smile is warm, an old piece of the past that still resides in the back of your mind.

"I call that an unfair advantage," you muttered.

"I would call it strategy."

"Strategy requires the mind of a politician," you joked. The words rolled out of your mouth with ease as you scrutinized the man before you.

He shrugged. "I've got politician friends."

"Right."

Over the years you often wondered where your paths might cross again. Where on the timeline of your lives Viktor would once more become your ally. You both found one another in your younger years—when things were simpler. The time in your life where you were starting to be recognized for your mind and him with his mind.

Two intellectuals forged in the fires of the Undercity. At one point in your life this might have felt humorous. Almost ironic.

Now you tried to grasp at what kept the two of you together. Especially since your step back away from the atmosphere of progress.

"I–"

"While you are here, would you mind—uh—looking over the research I have accumulated over the years of your absence?" The notebook he draws from the table beside him is crammed with scraps of paper. The binding was ready to burst at the seams. A sight that so utterly and undeniably the young man you met in the Undercity. "I trust your intelligence more than mine sometimes."

You could recall the hours spent pouring over books, each one filled with information you never thought you'd have the opportunity to learn. They brought the both of you closer to something that he felt would do the world some good. Knowledge was power in Piltover—you simply learned to utilize it for your own good. As a way to escape the past you tried your best to ignore.

Flipping to the first bookmarked page, you attempted to discern his writing. At times it was illegible, but you knew it better than yours. After years of looking at the same scratch marks and symbols, you were able to pick through Viktor's work with ease. Your heart stuttered at the research before you—the truth that rang silently in his hopeful expression.

"You want to find a power source?" you exclaimed, glancing up to see his eyes grow apprehensive.

Of course he would be wary about this. Every line scribbled, each night of hard work, all amounted to his life's legacy. The weight of his name was placed on loose pages and ink that bled between the compact journal. Running your finger over the foreign symbols etched onto each page and margin, you felt their power—the meaning behind each mark made.

"Viktor it's..." You wanted to call this emotion pride but the word felt minuscule given how much effort had been put into this. "Magnificent."

He grinned, settling back with a sigh of relief. "My partner Jayce—who you will meet tonight—has made a remarkable discovery."

"Remarkable is putting it lightly," you cut in, absentmindedly following the curve of the largest rune on the page, marking it in your memory.

Ducking his head, you watched his hands clasp together tightly, his thumb pressing against the pulse point of his wrist. "I have to do something...that will help."

That much you could understand.

"Ever since I've known you–" Shifting, you felt the skirt of your gown tug upwards—your leg exposed to the slight chill in the evening air. "You wanted to be remembered as a great scientist. Someone whose mind would be their legacy. I think you're closer to that than you think."

He scoffed. "I only told you that to stop the questions."

"About where you came from? Or something else."

The silence gave you enough of an answer. Explanations of his past came with little to no details. Merely stories that were fleeting, sinking beneath the depths long before you got a chance to figure them out entirely. He remained a mystery to you even now. Although...you couldn't say you were any different.

"Did you ever want that for yourself?" He leaned closer, his gaze attempting to pry beneath the depths of your mind.

"No," you breathed, catching one last glance at the sky. "It has always been better for my name to die with me."

"That I don't believe."

"No?" His eyes burned into the side of your face. A silent plea to finally let him in on the secret. To spill about the past you couldn't even accept for yourself.

Even as the years passed quicker than you could comprehend, Viktor never changed. Despite his age now surfacing across his face, he still felt familiar with each new slight wrinkle and faint mark that hadn't been there before. Beneath the fancy clothing and grim expression, he was still the boy you once knew. The ravenous scientist with a hunger to know more.

A man on a never ending journey for knowledge.

"You're brilliant," he said. "You always have been. I never quite understood why you chose to only be a..."

"A healer?" He nodded. "I didn't fit into Topside as smoothly as you did."

Whether he wished to admit it or not, the turmoil that tore through his body and mind was there. Hiding beneath the surface. Even as he refused to meet your gaze. Time may have intertwined you with him, but his dreams remained different—his hopes were vast enough to drag him away from the life you once knew.

Where he found the grandeur of a scientist working for someone brilliant, you found solace in your small shop surrounded with various concoctions and potions. A space that let you be the person you were always meant to be.

"You're talented enough to make a name for yourself. If you let me talk to the counsel–"

"No." The word sliced the air swiftly, silencing him with the sharp end of a whip.

He froze, drawing you out of the stupor your mind hastened to put you in. Upsetting him was the last thing you wanted, but you knew if he didn't stop now things would already be too late. Viktor had a tendency to escalate matters far more than necessary. It's why you were hesitant to even take his call—to give him leeway back into your life like this.

"Why?" he asked, his brows furrowed and eyes piercing through to the depths of your mind.

The answer lay at the back of your tongue—clear and ready to be pronounced with ease. But saying them out loud felt like a feat you'd never be able to manage.

"There are things in my past that are better left where they are," you replied, brushing off the way he looked at you.

A puzzle yet to be figured out. A math problem that held a solution to fix all that was broken.

But that was the thing...you couldn't be fixed. There remained no potion, no herbal remedy that could heal what had torn you to shreds. Who shattered you beyond repair.

Viktor left to pursue his Topside dreams—his pride in himself larger than anything you'd seen. Yet you remained behind. You stayed in the darkness of the Undercity with the promise to one day find him—to celebrate your dreams together. But that was before the battle plans, before you were recruited to help heal those that couldn't heal themselves. Before...him.

When it came down to it, you found yourself in a life far different from the one you dared to imagine with Viktor. The intention to follow him still existed somewhere as a fading dream that might never come true. But once you grew up, saw the world for how it was, you understood why you would never receive the same welcome he did.

You were a soldier first above it all and that was the one thing he would never know.

The secret you held in the confines of your heart.

"My past is the same as yours," he said. "We come from the same land. Surely if they accepted me, they will do the same for you."

You didn't fall in love with the devil.

The words that would never see the sunlight of Topside.

Reaching forward, you pat his knee in a gesture that offered a friendship despite all the secrets. Viktor would do what he wished; you couldn't stop him. That had always been the way of things since you were younger and so it would remain.

Merely two people who once offered to save one another from the bleak aspect of a future ready to eat you alive. Yet now there you were as adults. Sitting close enough to be friends yet miles a part from where you originally started.

You snapped the notebook shut and handed it back to him with a reluctant smile. The distaste of keeping him in the dark was pungent in your mouth, but this choice wasn't up to you to decide. It was always a mutual agreement between two people that were forced to be parted. He wouldn't speak about what happened and you'd do the same.

You were always meant to become a ghost of the Undercity and he a ghost of Topside.

Two fates that were never to intertwine again.

"Tell me," you said, moving to the still open balcony doors. "What's your partner Jayce like?"

He straightened in the chair, relief crossing his face at the realization that he hadn't offended you by pushing too far.

"You will like him."

"Oh I don't know about that," you drawled, a sly smile crossing your lips. "Don't you recall the night of the dinner party?"

He cringed as the memory of that disastrous debacle came to mind. You got into it with a certain doctor he befriended—a man with an ego large enough to choke the very air out of any room. The night ended with you unceremoniously chucking your drink into the man's face to save yourself the harsh act of slapping him. You refused to see Viktor for weeks—your own self worth having been burnt to the ground and defiled.

"I did not know he was going to insult you the way he had."

Scoffing, you leaned your back against the balcony railing. "You knew he wasn't good."

"Unfortunately that I did know." He stood on shaky legs, the clack of his cane against marble echoing off the walls as he joined you. "I can promise that Jayce is nothing like that."

"I'll determine that for myself." You sighed, glancing up at a darkened sky—the stars shimmering bright enough to rival the moon. "Besides, dinner is just us, right? Not a surprise interview to induct me into your hall of science. Because as flattered as I am–"

His laughter spilled over into your chest as he nudged your shoulder with his. "There will be no inducting. Not if you don't wish for it."

"Good." The clock across the room ticked away with expedited force—as if speeding up the flow of time to get you out of here. Yet you found yourself longing to stay, to remain in this small bubble. "Does he know who I am?"

"He knows what I've told him."

"All good I hope," you humored him, offering a placating smile that could be mistaken for charm. In the hopes that you'd make it through this night unscathed.

"There may have been a few stories." Swatting his shoulder, you ignored the shift he made towards you. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." You clutched the railing behind you until your knuckles hurt, your gut filled with the foreboding dread that came with treading the waters of your past. "I'm perfectly okay," you replied confidently.

Even if the words rang with the transparency of a lie.

Piltover at night held no comparison after witnessing the beauty of sunset. Yet after three glasses of wine and a dinner large enough to feed the village, you felt the thrill of excitement fill your chest at the thought of exploring parts you'd yet to see. Looping your arm around Viktor's you fell into step beside him—mere feet behind Jayce and a woman they introduced as Mel.

Of course, you knew who she was. Everyone in the city knew her name, but for the sake of a peaceful dinner void of any politics, you didn't make that fact obvious.

"It was a nice dinner," you said, the breeze off the water skimming the bare skin of your back.

"We should do it again." His voice remained steady, like a piece of home you never thought you'd get back. His eyes however...screamed something entirely different.

A divot in the road you weren't prepared for—one you didn't see yourself wanting.

"We should," you agreed, finding a spot against the railing. The blue of the ocean gleamed beneath the light of the moon. Truly Piltover at its finest. "Maybe next month?"

The irritated sigh slipped past his lips before he could reign it in, but that was all you needed to understand his intentions. You'd been afraid of this since you came to visit him the very first time. An execrable feeling weighed heavy in your stomach as time went on and his silence prevailed.

He stood beside you now with hope in his heart. The voices of Jayce and Mel faded into the background as they walked further away. And you were left with the friend you never wished to lose—the boy you longed to keep knowing.

"I haven't said—I should have said it already but–"

"Viktor," you interrupted, standing upright.

Suddenly the wine and the excessive amount of food didn't sound like a good idea after all. Your heart pounded against your chest, reverberating through your entire body—each nerve alight and waiting for the worst possible scenario to this outcome. He'd been your oldest friend, someone you counted on when you had no one else and the thought of ruining that left you feeling sick.

Each second he looked at you as if you held all the answers to what he pined for made your heart twist painfully.

With a shaky breath, you finally relented to the truth. "I can't."

"What do you mean?" His cheeks flushed vermilion as he fixed his gaze back to the water.

Shutting your eyes to collect your thoughts carefully, you sighed. "I know what you want me—us—to be and I can't...give that to you."

"Oh."

"I do care for you." Somehow the words echoed with hollow deceit, despite how true they felt in your heart.

"It's because of him."

You reared back, startled. "What?"

His eyes—plagued with sorrow deep enough to slice right through you—met yours waiting for a different answer. An explanation as to where your heart belonged. But you stood as still as stone—unable to form thoughts let alone coherent words. He ripped right down to the bone, pulled at your weak tendons and bit down on frayed nerves.

Yet he wasn't done.

"I'm not oblivious. When you finally came to Piltover you wouldn't tell me about what you did when I wasn't there. I only assumed you had feelings for someone. A man you didn't wish to speak about."

You exhaled slowly—the icy chill of relief swallowing you whole. "Oh...yes I...there was someone."

"Do you still love him?"

Glancing across the water, you glimpsed the bridge standing tall—a beacon of this city's hope for progress. But to your eyes it felt like a separation—a division between the two worlds of your life. One filled with enough pain to leave you staggering where you stool and other...a world of grandeur that overflowed with the option of peace.

At one point you had wanted to watch it burn. His betrayal tainted everything good about that place. A scar carved deep enough to leave an everlasting wound that never healed. You longed to forget it—to rid yourself of the memories he plagued—but you still knew one day...you'd stand upon that same ground again.

"I don't know," you breathed, the past clawing its way up your throat—shoving towards the very front of your mind.

BEFORE

The streets were overrun with people as they moved and flowed like the waves on a shore. You felt shoulders knock into you, exasperated glances thrown your way as you fumbled with the plants still gripped in your hands. They grew at the edge of the bridge—hidden in the shadows as a safeguard from the sun. Dirt packed itself beneath your fingernails, mud coating the thin fabric of your pants from where you dug.

"You should really have that looked at," you grumbled, shoving the plant into your satchel.

Garnering no response, you were left to get lost in your own thoughts. Whether or not he was actually in pain didn't concern you. Not when you had a job given by Vander who insisted you focus solely on healing rather than fighting. It's not as if you entirely disagreed with him—you were more than happy being a healer rather than a soldier—you simply couldn't figure how this would help in the long run.

What exactly were you supposed to do when people acted stubborn and brash?

"What are you writing?" he barked, stopping abruptly. You rammed into him with a sneer.

"Nothing that's of any concern to you." Shoving your pen and notebook into the bag, you watched as he huffed in response, turning away. "I'll tell you again since you seem to be hard of hearing. You should really have your wound–" He stopped, eyes flashing over his shoulder with a glare. “–looked at."

"You sure do talk a lot," he snipped.

"It's a gesture of kindness. You don't have to be an ass about it."

How did you manage to get stuck with this man? You were more than capable of sneaking around the border of Topside without anyone's help. Vander assigning you an escort seemed synonymous with the actions of an older brother being overly protective. Yet you weren't related in any way shape or form—you were simply someone who understood the need for change.

Arguing would get you nowhere and so you did your best to ignore his quick glances. Coming up with a correct judgment for what you found took precedence over the man in front of you.

The heat of the day seeped into your clothes—sticking to your exposed skin—the longer you trekked back. If it were possible to steal some time, you'd search for that small pool you and Viktor used to play at—just to submerge yourself in cold water. But with a guard at your side, you were left with only one option. Dreaming about weather cooler than this.

"You're walking too slow," he called over his shoulder.

The desperation for escape called to you, begged you to leave him behind and go somewhere quiet. But before you could sprint in the opposite direction, he turned. Ignoring him didn't seem to be a well thought out solution, but that never stopped you from trying. Even as he glared at you.

What little sunlight remained began to dip below the horizon—a sight you'd neve grow tired of. If only you had the chance to see it over the ocean with a clear sky above.

"You need that fixed before we return." Avoiding the incensed glare directed your way, you settled on the edge of a wall.

"What I need is for you to keep going. So I can go home."

"Listen—whoever you are—I know that when you return you're going to be questioned about why you're in pain. Either you let me patch up that wound or you get Vander. Your pick."

The arguing ceased with a defiant raise of your brows, lips curling into a sly grin that pinned him where he stood. There really was no other option than submission. What was a quick check before you were on your merry way. Much to your delight, he seemed to come to the same conclusion as he joined you on the wall, undoing his vest with an indignant sigh.

Silence filled the empty space between you. Slipping between the cracks and shadows that cast across his angular face. You'd seen him before on the edge of your vision, leaning against the bar with a book in his face—long fingers trailing the rim of his glass absentmindedly. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you differed.

Where you wanted to roam, he longed to be back making plans with Vander instead of trapped in the task of guard duty for a healer he'd never met before.

"Who shot you?" The glow of sunset illuminated the pale skin beneath his shirt—a long jagged scar etched into the skin threw you off for a moment as your fingers searched for blood.

The sharp wince in his face said you'd found it. "I couldn't see their face."

Nodding, you moved his hand to keep the fabric up and out of the way. A quick rummage in your bag for the salve you made earlier caught his attention—turquoise gleamed in your peripheral, prying you open with enough ease to jar you down to the bone.

"The bullet only scraped you. This should help close it up by the end of the week." You pressed the dark mixture along his wound, catching the subtle flinch he tried to smother. "Sorry."

"I'm fine," he mumbled in a whispered tone.

"I can fix it up properly when we return. Get you a real bandage to keep it from getting worse."

You nearly missed it. That slow imperceptible grin that curled at the edge of his lips. But your eyes latched onto it like a kid with candy, savoring the quick glimpse of something surreal. It threw you off balance, forced you to reckon with the thought of never knowing him before today.

Ethereal. Empyrean.

He sat before you a stranger with the eyes of a fond ally. A friend you had yet to be properly introduced to. It seemed he harbored the same thought—his mouth forming the question as if it fell right out of your head and into his lap.

"You're a friend of Vander?" Slipping his vest back on, you noticed he left it unbuttoned.

You found you preferred it that way.

"So are you. I've seen you...uh...with him. Around the bar you know."

The quiet echo of the water lapping at rocks and voices in the distance didn't feel bitter, but rather settled the nerves leaping beneath your skin. It was nice to sit there and watch the night sky show itself to the world once again. Eventually you'd be forced to return to a life that teemed with a clear understanding that hung over everyone's heads. There would be a fight. An inevitable battle for what you believed was right.

But for this transcendent moment you basked in the few moments of peace life allotted you.

The calm before the storm.

"I don't know your name," you admitted, turning your head slightly to catch his gaze already faced in your direction. "Vander never told me."

If he caught you in the middle of a blatant lie, he didn't call you on it. You could tell he saw right through you—the glint in his eyes shining brighter than moments before. This wasn't a clarification for Vander's sake or the battle. You wanted to know his name for yourself. A small token of the man you may never interact with again save for tonight.

After a moment his voice came with a soft breath of air. "Silco."

Teeth dug into your lip to keep the blooming smile at bay. "Silco," you said under your breath.

He latched onto it, dug his fingers into the tangible feeling they created in his chest, and felt a smile pulling wider at his own mouth. You said it again, unable to stop yourself as a thrill of excitement fluttered at the base of your stomach. So simple, so smooth off the tip of your tongue. Yet filled with enough power to stir your chest with a feeling you wished to inspect further.

The lilt of it hung in the air as you turned back to the sky with a satisfied hum, relishing in the time you had left with him at your side.

[luckyroll3]

Quid Pro Quo: Chapter 1

Masterlist and Summary

Warnings: This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only. Includes explicit sexual content, graphic language, some violence, etc. Author chooses to not extensively tag in order to preserve some elements of storytelling.

Word Count: 9,558

You sit at your usual table in the bustling student center, absentmindedly twirling a pen as you wait for your new tutee to arrive. You glance at your watch for the third time in as many minutes. You look back over to your floormates Jess and Sam sitting across from you. 

"Did you hear about Sarah hooking up with Matt at the party on Friday?" Jess leans in conspiratorially, her voice a dramatic whisper. "Apparently they were all over each other on the dance floor."

Sam rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Knowing Matt, he probably sweet-talked her with some cheesy pickup lines. That boy is shameless."

You chuckle at their antics, enjoying the lighthearted gossip session. Jess launches into another scandalous tale about someone called Josh from the Business School.

"I'm telling you, he's slept with half the cheerleading team already," Jess whispers conspiratorially, her eyes wide with gossip. "Lisa said he's got some special move that drives the girls wild."

You roll your eyes, suppressing a grin. "And I'm sure Lisa has firsthand experience, right?"

"Well, no, but—" 

"Don't encourage her," Sam interjects with a knowing smirk. "You know how Jess loves to embellish."

The three of you dissolve into giggles, the easy banter a welcome distraction from your waiting. The person you were supposed to be tutoring was already 5 minutes late. 

Suddenly, a smooth voice cuts through your laughter. "Excuse me, I'm looking for my tutor. Any chance you lovely ladies can point me in the right direction?”

You look up, the words dying on your lips as you take in the sight before you. Tousled bleached blonde hair frames a face that belongs on a magazine cover, complete with deep dimples, a broad nose, thick pink lips, and warm brown eyes that crinkle at the corners. The casual jeans and black hoodie hug his athletic frame in all the right places. You’ve seen him around campus and at parties – he’s kind of hard to miss – but you’ve never actually spoken to him before. He holds his phone out to you, and points at a name. Your name.  

"That’s me," you say, clearing your throat. "I'm your tutor. You must be Chan?"

You notice Jess and Sam exchanging meaningful glances, eyebrows raised. They clearly recognize him too and must have gossip about him like they do about everyone. Interesting.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he takes you in, a slow dimpled grin spreading across his face. He clearly had not envisioned someone who looked like you. "Wow, I wasn't expecting... I mean, you're not exactly what I pictured when they said, 'best math tutor on campus.'" 

Funny how the men always seemed to be caught off guard. And you're never sure whether to be flattered or offended. "And what exactly did you picture?" You propped your fist up under your chin.

Chan's grin widens, revealing perfect white teeth. "Honestly? Some nerdy chick with thick glasses, a pocket protector, and maybe corrective shoes." He shrugs as he pulls the chair out and sits next to you. “And certainly not stylish.” His eyes take in your pink crop top and dark gray wide legged jeans that hugged your hips.

You can't help but laugh. "Sorry to disappoint. My pocket protector’s in the wash. I’ll be sure to have it with me next time if that makes you feel more comfortable." Chan smirks at your joke, his eyes never leaving yours. “This is Jess and Sam,” you say, pointing towards your friends. 

“Hey Jess and Sam,” he says, flashing them his smile before turning back to you.

“Hi Chan. Uh, we should get going,” Sam says hastily. “We were just keeping her company while she waited…” She and Jess hurriedly gather their things. 

“Have fun studying,” Jess calls over her shoulder as they scurry off, leaving you alone with the blonde bombshell.  

You watch your friends as they walk away, whispering between the two of them as they continue to glance back at Chan. Turning back to him, you clear your throat. "So, shall we get started?"

Chan's cocky demeanor falters slightly as he lets out a frustrated sigh. "I have to admit, I’m really struggling in differential equations. I kind of bombed my first exam. Like, spectacularly. I’ve never failed anything before. I’ve never even gotten below an A- in any of my courses! My professor suggested I get some extra help."

You nod understandingly. "That's why I'm here," you reassure him. “Let me give you a quick rundown of how I tutor and my rates, then we can dive in."

For the next hour, you pour over Chan's exam, dissecting each problem he got wrong. Your passion for the subject shines through as you enthusiastically explain the underlying concepts, using real-world examples to make the material come alive.

To your pleasant surprise, Chan listens attentively, absorbing your words. As Chan explains his frustrations with the material, you find yourself impressed by his intelligence despite this particular academic setback. He asks thoughtful questions, determined to grasp the ideas fully. His brow furrows adorably as he works through a particularly tricky concept. He seems to genuinely care about improving his understanding. Plus, the intense focus in his captivating brown eyes is rather attractive.

"Okay, let's break this down step by step," you say, leaning in closer to guide him through one of the problems. The subtle scent of his cologne teases your senses, and you silently chastise yourself for noticing. 

Over the next hour, you lose yourself in the elegant dance of numbers and variables, your voice growing more animated as you explain the intricacies of differential equations. Chan proves to be an attentive student, his initial bravado melting away to reveal genuine curiosity and a quick mind.

But your session is interrupted several times. A perky brunette approaches your table, her eyes fixed on your tutee. "Hey Chan," she coos, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I didn't know you studied here."

Chan's demeanor shifts instantly, his smile widening as he leans back in his chair. "Only when I have a beautiful tutor," he says with a wink in your direction.

You roll your eyes, but can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips. "Flattery will get you nowhere, especially not in differential equations, sir," you quip as you tap your pencil on his textbook, earning a laugh from Chan.

Twenty minutes later, two more girls stop by, batting their eyelashes at him. You observe with amusement as he effortlessly juggles their attention, his charm cranked up to a thousand.

"Ladies, ladies," he says after a few minutes, "As much as I’d love to continue our chat, I'm in the middle of a very important tutoring session."

You snort. "Oh, now it's important?"

Chan grins at you, his eyes twinkling. "Always has been. How else will I impress you with my mathematical prowess?"

As the girls reluctantly drift away, you can't help but admire Chan's ability to navigate social situations with such ease. It's like watching a performance, and despite yourself, you're entertained.

"Wow," he says as he finishes working through a complex problem at the end of the session. "You really know your stuff. I think I actually understand some of this now."

You flash Chan a warm smile as you gather up your notes. "That's great! I'm glad I could help. If we keep meeting regularly and you keep putting in the same effort you showed today, we'll have you acing these exams in no time."

Chan leans back in his chair, giving you a smoldering look. "With a tutor as brilliant and stunning as you, how could I not be motivated to give it my all?"

He winks flirtatiously and you can't help but chuckle. Throughout the session, you noticed how Chan turned on the charm anytime a cute girl walked by your table, making them blush and giggle. But you see right through his player persona.

"You should save your cheesy pick-up lines for the girls over there eyeing you," you tease, nodding your head towards a group of freshmen near the cafe counter who keep glancing your way and whispering. "I don't mix business with pleasure."

"Pity," Chan sighs dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "And here I thought my devilish good looks and witty remarks were winning you over."

"Keep dreaming, Casanova." 

“Unlike Casanova, I’m 100% clean. I get tested monthly,” he says, cocking his head to the side with a sly smirk. “Hey! Did you call my pick-up lines ‘cheesy’??” he asks, in mock offense, followed by a smile. “That’s certainly a first.”

“Yup!” You roll your eyes playfully as you slide the textbook back into your bag. "I will say, when you weren’t distracted by ass and tits, you were a very attentive student today. Here’s what you owe me.” You hand him the invoice.

Chan's eyebrows raise as he examines the total. “Ouch,” he says, but he pulls out his wallet without complaint. "But I'd say you're worth every penny... and more," he adds suggestively. 

You simply shake your head in amusement as you accept his payment, immune to his flirtations after years of dealing with cocky jocks, handsy frat brothers, and other self-assured fuck boys who became humbled when they needed your help to pass math and physics. Still, you have to admit there's something magnetic about Chan's presence, a spark of intelligence and humor beneath that bad boy exterior that intrigues you. And damn, he is cute. The problem is he knows it.

"Seriously though, thanks for being so patient with me. Same time next week?" he asks, flashing that dimpled smile that you're sure has broken countless hearts.

Shouldering your backpack, you give him one last appraising look. "Yup. Don't forget to do the practice problems I assigned."

"As you wish." He grins roguishly. "I await our next meeting with bated breath."

You laugh again, before turning and walking away, very aware of Chan's eyes following your every step. This is going to be an interesting semester, you think to yourself as you head to your next class. 

Later that evening, you're sprawled on your bed in your dorm room. Jess sits in your desk chair and Sam is on the floor eating chips. The two of them rehash the day’s events. The conversation soon turns to your new tutee. 

“I can’t believe you’re tutoring THE Bang Chan,” Jess says incredulously, pausing in the middle of painting her toenails a vivid red. 

“Do they really call him that? Bang Chan?” you ask curiously. You know his full name is Chan Bahng. 

Sam jumps in. “Yes, Bang Chan. As in the notorious fuck boy who’s probably slept with two-thirds of the girls on campus. 

The room erupts into giggles and excited chatter. "Oh honey," Jess says with a grin. "Everyone knows Bang Chan. He's only the biggest player on campus!"

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Really? I mean, I noticed he was flirty, but—"

"Flirty?" Sam snorts as she sets down her bag of Ruffles, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. "Girl, you have no idea. That boy is trouble, with a capital T. Fuck, all the letters are screaming at you! He’s broken more hearts than I've had hot dinners. They call him the 'One Night Stand King'. He never hooks up with someone more than once."

“You would know this if you didn’t spend all your time in the physics building or with your boyfriend at the Phi Theta Nu house,” Jess says as she points the nail polish brush in your direction. 

“That’s why I hang out with you bitches! So you can catch me up on all the campus drama and gossip I miss.” Jess and Sam laugh at you. 

As your friends launch into increasingly outrageous stories about Chan's exploits, you feel a strange mix of fascination and disbelief. Could the attentive student you tutored really be the same person they're describing?

“I heard he slept with three of the sorors from KEK in one week, and not one of them knew about the others!” Sam continues. “And they all lived on the same floor!"

"Oh, and get this," Jess leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper as if the three of you weren’t alone. "I heard from my friend who fucked him freshman year that he's absolutely mind-blowing in bed. Like, earth-shattering good." She tightens the cap on the nail polish bottle and sets it on the desk. 

Sam nodded her head vigorously as she popped another chip into her mouth. “I’ve heard that too. That he works hard to get each girl off. That’s a miracle in and of itself, given how awful and selfish most of these guys are when it comes to our pleasure.”

"That part! And apparently, he has a magical tongue, if you know what I mean," Jess adds with a salacious wink.

The three of you devolve into loud laughter. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed Chan’s devilish smile and the sinful way he bit his plush lower lip. You're about to ask for more details when a knock at the door interrupts the gossip session. The scent of yummy food wafts in as your boyfriend Changbin enters, bags of takeout in hand. His handsome face breaks into a sweet smile at the sight of you.

"Hey babe," he greets, pecking you on the lips before holding up the food. "I brought dinner.” Changbin's eyes sweep over the room, taking in your friends and the remnants of your gossip session. “I didn’t realize you two would still be here, but there’s enough for everyone," he offers.

“Best boyfriend ever,” you declare as you move to help him with the food. 

"Mind if I join the party?"

Your friends eagerly accept, and soon you're all sprawled across the floor, plates balanced on laps as the conversation flows. The aroma of spicy chicken and savory noodles fills the air, mingling with laughter and playful banter.

After a few minutes of catching up, Changbin raises an eyebrow. "So, what were you all talking about before I got here? I could hear you laughing down the hall!"

Sam giggles, swallowing a mouthful of food. "Oh, we were just filling her in on Bang Chan's reputation."

Changbin's expression shifts, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Chan? I know him. We play soccer together sometimes in the pickup games on Saturdays."

You lean in, curious. "Really? What do you think of him?"

Changbin shrugs, his muscular shoulders rolling beneath his fitted shirt. "He's actually a pretty nice guy. Killer on the field, but always fair. I’ve also heard from a couple of my frat bothers who are also engineering majors that he’s really fucking smart. Why? What have you ladies heard?" Changbin turns his attention to Sam and Jess, fully aware of their gossip queen reputations.

As your friends launch into a recap of Chan's notorious exploits, you find yourself torn between their salacious stories and your own experience. "He was my tutoring student today," you interject. "And yeah, he was flirty, but he was also polite and seemed genuinely interested in learning. I could tell he was also very intelligent."

Changbin nods, a thoughtful look on his face. "That tracks. He's got quite the reputation, but I've never seen him be disrespectful or mean. Just... very popular with the ladies." He ticks his head to the side and smirks before shoving a forkful of noodles into his mouth. 

“Does it make him a bad guy that he likes fucking around?” you ask sincerely. “He’s apparently single; from what you all have shared he offers nothing more than sex, then moves on. As long as he’s not tricking or forcing anyone, I don’t get why it’s a big deal.”

“True, true,” Sam agrees. 

Jess doesn’t look too sure. “It’s probably more about the volume and that he also fucks friends,” she adds after thinking about your comment for a few seconds. 

Changbin doesn’t really care and just continues eating, grabbing an eggroll from your plate with a cute smirk. You make a face at him. “What,” he says after taking a bite. “You know you’re not gonna eat it.”

As the conversation shifts to other topics, you can't help but ponder the complexities of Chan's character. Your mind wanders, comparing him to Changbin, wondering about the different types of men and relationships that exist in this world, especially considering the whirlwind of rumors surrounding Chan. You push the thoughts aside, focusing on the moment at hand, but a small part of you remains curious about the enigma that is the ‘Bang Chan’.

Later, after your friends have left and your dorm room is quiet once more, you and Changbin settle onto your bed. His strong arms encircle you, pulling you close as you cuddle together. Having a single this semester means that the two of you get to spend a lot more alone time together. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, comforting and enticing all at once. You rest your head on his sturdy chest as his fingers trail gentle patterns along your back. 

"Can you believe it's almost our one-year anniversary?" Changbin muses, his deep voice vibrating beneath your cheek. "Time flies when you're with someone as amazing as you."

You tilt your head up to meet his warm gaze, your heart fluttering at the open affection shining in his eyes. "I feel the same way. Being with you has been the best part of this whole college experience."

Changbin's hand comes up to tenderly brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I want to make our anniversary special, baby. Is there anything in particular you want to do to celebrate?"

Nibbling your lower lip, you contemplate his question. In truth, all you really want is to spend uninterrupted quality time with the man you’ve been falling for over the past 10 months. No distractions, no studying, no gossip about cocky fuck boys with sinful smirks...

Just you and Changbin, savoring each other's presence, and maybe… something more.

You snuggle closer, relishing the feel of him. "Just spending time with you is enough," you reply softly. “I don’t need anything fancy. I just honestly want to disconnect from everything and everyone but you.” 

Changbin's pink lips curve into a soft smile. "That sounds perfect.”

He leans in, capturing your mouth in a tender kiss. Your eyes flutter shut as you melt into him, relishing the gentle pressure of his lips on yours. It's chaste and sweet, just like most of the kisses you've shared over the past year.

And yet...

A tiny, secret part of you can't help but yearn for more. To feel the heat of desire, the intensity of passion, the urgency of wandering hands and fervent kisses. Your thoughts stray to the erotic stories your friends shared earlier, of Chan's alleged prowess in the bedroom....

Mentally chastising yourself, you force those illicit musings away, focusing instead on the warm solidity of your boyfriend's frame against yours. Changbin is perfect – caring, respectful, patient. He deserves your full attention and devotion.

As his fingers continue to trace lazy patterns along your spine, a shiver runs through you. You can't help but wonder if Changbin wants more from your relationship. Over the past year, your physical intimacy has been limited to these chaste kisses and some gentle petting, and you're acutely aware of how accommodating he's been to your general lack of interest in intimacy, despite having sex with his previous partners. A perfect gentleman.

Gathering your courage, you tilt your head back up to meet his gaze again. "Binnie... do you want more from our relationship?"

His dark eyes soften as he looks at you, a mix of tenderness and desire in their depths. "I only want what you want," he says sincerely. "My priority is making sure you're happy and feel safe. We can take things at whatever pace you're comfortable with. There’s no need to rush anything."

“Okay,” you whisper.

His words fill you with a comforting warmth, like slipping into a hot bath on a cold night. In that moment, you make a decision, one that feels both monumental and inevitable. Silently, you promise yourself that for your anniversary in two months, you'll take things to the next level with Changbin. He deserves it, and if you're honest with yourself, you want it, or rather him, too. You want his touch, his closeness, the deeper connection that comes with truly giving yourselves to one another emotionally and physically.

No more holding back, you tell yourself. You have just over two months to prepare, to get comfortable with the idea. As a sign of this new commitment to yourself and your relationship, you gently slide Changbin’s hands from your lower back to your ass. The movement is slow and deliberate. “That’s better,” you whisper. Your breath catches in your throat as you wait for his reaction.

Changbin lets out a low, appreciative chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your body. He squeezes gently, testing the waters, and you feel a spark of arousal shoot through you. His lips find your neck, and he begins to pepper it with light, teasing kisses, each one sending a tingling wave of sensation down your spine.

You close your eyes, savoring the moment, the feel of his strong hands and warm lips. This is what you want. To be closer to him, to experience the physical side of your feelings for him. As you lay there in his arms, your mind drifts to thoughts of what that next level might entail. You try to imagine what it will be like when you finally cross that line: the heat of his skin against yours, the weight of his body, the mingling of your breaths. It’s a tantalizing thought, and a mix of excitement and nervousness flutters in your stomach.

****

The library hums with quiet activity as you settle into a table towards the back. You’re looking forward to seeing Chan again. Despite his reputation, you enjoyed talking to Chan, and he was a fun and attentive student last time. Maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye. 

Speaking of the “fuck boy” in question, you see Chan approaching, his blonde hair slightly tousled and a grin playing on his lips as he struts towards the table like he owns the place. Which, let’s be honest, he might as well. Every woman in the building, young and old, cast him longing glances as he passes by, but his eyes are only on you. 

“Hey tutor,” he drawls, flashing that alluring grin, “ready to help a desperate man?” As he slides into the seat across from you, you catch a whiff of his cologne – a subtle, woodsy scent that's oddly enticing. “Oh, and before you say it, I know I’m irresistible. I just can’t help it.”

"Hello, Chan," you say, feigning exasperation, but you can't help the little upturn of your lips. "I'll help you, but only if you promise to behave yourself."

"Scout's honor," he says, holding three fingers up playfully. 

"Heh, good. Ready to tackle some more concepts?"

Chan's eyes light up with a mix of enthusiasm and mischief. "Absolutely. I've been practicing, you know. Might even impress you today."

You raise an eyebrow playfully. "Oh really? Let's see what you've got, blondie."

As you dive into the session, you're pleasantly surprised by Chan's progress. He's quick to grasp concepts that stumped him before, and you find yourself laughing at his clever quips between problem sets.

The next two hours fly by in a flurry of notes, examples, and Chan's near-constant, yet surprisingly endearing, banter. He's actually put in the effort and it’s clear he’s been studying.

"See? Told you I'd impress you," he says with a wink as you wrap up.

You roll your eyes but can't suppress a grin. "Alright, alright. Don't let it go to your head."

As Chan reaches for his wallet, his expression shifts, turning serious for once. "Hey, um... about the payment," he starts, his usual confidence faltering, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features. He hands over the bills in his hand. "I hate to ask this, but... is there any chance I could get a discount?” An uncharacteristic blush creeps up his cheeks.

"Chan, if you can't pay today, it's fine," you assure him, offering the cash back. "We can work something out; you can get it to me next week. We also don’t have to do two hours every time."

He shakes his head. “No, that’s yours. You earned it.” He meets your gaze. “I… I can’t pay for any more sessions at this rate after our next session.” Chan runs a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed. "Yeah, it's just... I'm here on scholarship, you know? Most of what I make from my campus job goes back home to help my family. I totally get it if you can't give me a discount, though." 

His admission catches you off guard; you’re surprised by this sudden vulnerability. So, the infamous "fuck boy" may have a heart after all.

As he speaks, you notice how he's trying to maintain his cocky demeanor, but there's a genuine worry in his eyes that tugs at your heart. Suddenly, an idea strikes you – one that makes your pulse quicken with both nervousness and excitement.

"Actually," you begin, your voice lowering conspiratorially, "I might have a proposition for you." You pause, thinking about the best way to phrase your question. "But first, I have to ask... what's the deal with your reputation as the campus 'fuck boy'? I heard they call you ‘Bang Chan’?"

Chan's eyebrows shoot up, clearly not expecting this turn in the conversation. Then he lets out a laugh, his dimples deepening. "Wow, straight to the point, huh? I like that." He leans back in his chair, a glint in his eye. "Well, I won't deny it. The rumors are true. I am, for lack of a better term, a fuck boy.”

"And you're okay with that label?" you press, genuinely curious.

He shrugs, still smiling. "Look, I don't think there's anything wrong with it as long as I'm upfront about my intentions. No false promises, no declarations of relationships or love, no repeat customers, no broken hearts – just fun between consenting adults. I’ve never seen the point in stringing women along or pursuing those who aren’t interested when there are so many who are willing to hook up with no attachments if you just come right out and ask."

As he speaks, you feel a mix of admiration for his honesty and a flutter of anticipation in your stomach. 

“I like how practical you are about it. And you’re right. Despite what society tries to tell us, women’s sexual drives are just as high, if not higher than most men’s.” He nods in agreement, clearly impressed with your non judgemental take. You take a deep breath, preparing to make your unconventional offer. You lean in towards him. “How about we… negotiate?”

His interest piqued, Chan leans in too. "I'm listening."

You lower your voice. "Okay, here's my proposition. I'll waive your tutoring fees for the rest of the semester if..." You pause, your heart racing. "If you agree to teach me about… intimacy."

Chan's eyes widen, his usual cocky demeanor faltering for a moment. "Wait, what?" He searches your face, as if trying to determine if you're joking. You’ve shocked him for the second time in less than 5 minutes. 

"Well, here's the thing," you say, biting your lower lip. "I need to... gain some... experience."

Realization dawns on Chan's face, and a sly grin spreads across his lips. “Really?!? Not sure what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that!”

"I'm serious," you say, surprised by how taken aback he seems by your request. "I want to take things to the next level with my boyfriend, but I have zero experience. Who better to learn from than the campus expert?"

Silence settles between the two of you. Chan runs a hand through his tousled blonde hair, his expression a mix of surprise and interest. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "This is... unexpected," he says finally. "But I’m intrigued. Give me a minute to think about this."

As he considers, you find yourself holding your breath. You anxiously twirl your pencil as your mind races with thoughts of Changbin, of your upcoming anniversary, of the potential benefits and consequences of this deal. You turn your focus back out externally to notice Chan's eyes roaming over your body. He just smirks when you catch him.

After what feels like an eternity, Chan leans forward, his brown eyes locking with yours. "Alright, I'm in. But we need to set some strict terms."

You nod eagerly. "Of course. What did you have in mind?"

"First," he begins, his tone suddenly businesslike, "this is purely transactional. No catching feelings, no strings attached. I’m assuming you’re a virgin?” 

“Yes,” you say, unashamed. “Will that be a problem?” 

He sighs. “I usually don’t fuck virgins because they tend to get…”

“Clingy?” You finish for him. 

“Yes. They tend to get clingy. If either of us starts developing feelings, we end it immediately. Agreed?" And by ‘either of us’, you assume he means you and your clingy virginity. 

"Agreed," you say without hesitation. "I have no interest in complicating things. This is just about learning. No clinginess, no drama. It’s simply not my style. I’m coming at this from a completely practical perspective. Just mutual… assistance."

Chan nods approvingly. "Good. So, in exchange for diff eq tutoring, I'll teach you about sex – from kissing to... well, everything I guess." He smirks, his confidence returning. "That means we’ll spend time alone together, and we’ll have to touch and other things, building our way up to fucking, if that works for you."

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, but you maintain eye contact, determined to convince him that it’s not a big deal. Because it’s not in your mind. Simply a quid pro quo – your services for his. You talk about sex all the time; you’re just not having it and it’s finally time to rectify that. "Understood. You get what you need from me to pass your class and I get what I need from you to confidently seduce my boyfriend. Shake on it?"

Chan extends his hand, and you take it, feeling a small thrill at the contact. "Deal," he says, his signature charming smile returning. "Now, let's figure out our schedules. One diff eq session and one... ‘intimacy’ session per week?" You nod.

As you pull out your phone to compare calendars, you can't help but wonder what you've just gotten yourself into. But the thought of surprising Changbin on your anniversary pushes any doubts aside.

****

The following week, you meet Chan at the house he shares with 3 other guys to continue your tutoring.  

You stand on the porch, your heart racing with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before knocking on the door.

Chan answers almost immediately. The door swings open, revealing him in a fitted black t-shirt and jeans that hug his muscular thighs. His blonde hair is slightly damp, as if he just showered. The scent of his soap, a minty eucalyptus smell, washes over you.

"Hey tutor," he greets with that signature dimpled grin. "Come on in."

You follow him inside, taking in the typical college guy decor – mismatched furniture, video game systems, posters. But you can’t help but notice how tidy the place is; everything is surprisingly clean and organized. It’s the opposite of what you’d expect in a place where 4 college-aged boys live. 

“Who’s your housekeeper,” you ask. 

"Impressed?" Chan asks, noticing your wandering gaze. "It’s me. My roommates are fucking slobs, but I think after a year, I’m finally rubbing off on them," Chan explains as he leads you to the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a Mr. Clean.”

“There were no housekeepers in my neighborhood. We all had to chip in at my house.”

“Same in mine,” you say as you take a seat at the kitchen table. “My friends all had housekeepers, but my parents didn’t believe in that shit. They both grew up poor and didn’t want my brother and me to think that having money meant other people did basic stuff for us. We washed dishes, we did our own laundry, we did lawn maintenance…”

“Damn, even we didn’t have to mow the lawn!” Chan laughed. “But that’s cool of your parents to keep you guys humble.”

The two of you dive into the session, reviewing his notes from this week. You're pleasantly surprised by how quickly Chan grasps the new concepts you introduce. His face scrunches adorably in concentration as he tackles each question, only occasionally glancing up to catch your approving nods. 

After returning from the bathroom, you lean over Chan's shoulder, pointing out an error in his calculations. "See here? You forgot to apply the chain rule."

Chan's brow furrows as he studies the problem. "Ah, I see it now, shit! Thanks.”

As you explain the correct approach, you're acutely aware of his proximity. You retake your seat and continue to watch him erase and scribble as he works out the problem.

"You've really been practicing," you comment, unable to keep the surprise from your voice.

Chan looks up, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Well, I've got a pretty great tutor motivating me," he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes playfully. "I told you, flattery will get you nowhere, mister."

"Oh really?" Chan leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Because it usually gets me everywhere." He smirks. 

"Alright, alright.” You flip a few pages in the textbook. “Try this next one on your own," you say, sliding the textbook towards him and pointing out a particularly tricky problem.

As Chan works through the equation, you can't help but notice the way his t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, or how his tongue darts out to wet his lips when he’s in deep concentration.

"Okay, I think I've got it," Chan says triumphantly after solving it. He looks up at you, his brown eyes sparkling, as he slides his notebook in front of you. You review it, nodding. 

“Nice work.”

“You’re impressed?” He leans back, placing his hands behind his head and quickly arching his eyebrows several times.

You can't help but smile. "I am. You've clearly been putting in the work." You hand him back his notebook and close the textbook. “Let’s call it.”

As you wrap up the math portion of your meeting, a nervous energy settles between you. Chan clears his throat, his cocky demeanor faltering slightly.

"So... I guess it's time for your lesson now?" he asks, his voice lower than usual.

You nod, your heart rate picking up. "I guess so."

Chan stands, looking at his watch. "Let's move somewhere more comfortable. Plus, I think a couple of my roommates will be home soon."

He leads you to his bedroom and motions for you to place your things on his desk. 

You stand awkwardly, your heart pounding. Chan leans against the wall, his brown eyes studying you intently.

"Don't look so nervous. I don’t bite... unless you ask me to.” His lips curve into a mischievous smile, causing you to shake your head at his ridiculousness. “We'll start slow." He walks over to stand directly in front of you. "So," he says, breaking the tension. "Show me how you usually kiss. Don't overthink it."

You take a deep breath and step closer, Chan's scent filling your senses. You place your hands on his shoulders and press your lips against his, holding them there for a few seconds before pulling away.

Chan's dimples appear as he smiles warmly. "That was... gentle. Sweet, even. But let's work on technique."

You feel your cheeks burn. "That bad, huh?"

He chuckles. "Not bad, just inexperienced. Here, let me show you."

Chan cups your face with one hand, his thumb grazing your cheek. "First, create anticipation," he murmurs. His eyes flick to your lips, then back to your eyes. You find yourself holding your breath. “Start exactly how you did before, soft and gentle, but then let it develop into something deeper by opening your mouth slightly, using your tongue to slightly tease, and when they part their mouth in response, slip your tongue in and massage theirs. Like this.”

As his lips meet yours, they are soft and gentle, yet determined. He moves slowly, deliberately, guiding your mouth to part slightly and tilting your head for a better angle. Your body instinctively leans into him, craving more. You feel the gentle probing of his tongue against your lips, and you respond by eagerly accepting it. His tongue explores every nook and cranny of your mouth, and you press yours back against his.

Changbin has kissed you like this before, but never for long. He never wants to seem like he’s pressuring you to do anything. But the way Chan is kissing you is so sensual, yet intense, you actually feel like your knees might buckle. You can see why all the girls on campus are so taken by him. 

After a moment, he pulls back. "See the difference?" 

You nod with your eyes closed, a bit dazed. "Definitely." He laughs at your response.

"Now you try," Chan instructs. "Remember, it's about connection, not just pressing lips together."

As you lean in again, you think, I can do this. It's just practice, like math. But when your lips meet his this time, it feels anything but clinical. You replicate what he just showed you. At the same time, you feel him clasp your hands, which are hanging lifelessly at your sides, and bring them behind his neck. You interlace your fingers in the new position. After a few moments, you pull your lips away. 

“Good. And remember to touch him. Rub his back, grab his ass, and if your hands are around his neck like they are now, run your fingers through the hair at the nape.”

You slip your fingers up into his hair, toying with the curls forming at the back of his neck. “Like this?”

“Just like that,” he whispers with a smile. “Now the functionality of this shifts with the position.” He retakes your hands in his and leads you to the bed. He sits and motions for you to get on him. His hands settle on your hips. “If you’re straddling your partner, it’s similar to standing. Wrap your arms and legs around me and go again.”

You bring your lips back to his. The kiss quickly deepens, and you sigh lightly when you feel Chan’s hands slide to your lower back, continuing on to your ass. Chan smiles against your lips at your reaction, which causes you to laugh and break the kiss. 

“Sorry,” you chuckle. “You just caught me off guard.”

“That’s okay. Just get comfortable with it.” He squeezes your ass playfully. “Your boyfriend doesn’t grab your ass? It’s a great ass.” 

“He’s pretty respectful. If I told him to grab it, he would.” You lazily twirl your thumbs on the back of his neck. 

“Keep doing that. That feels good.” He leans back in to continue the kiss. After a few minutes he leans back on the bed, pulling you on top of him. “Don’t stop,” he whispers against your lips. And you don’t. He eventually rolls so that you’re both on your sides, facing each other. “You’re a quick learner,” he says when he finally allows you to come up for air. 

"Well, I've got a pretty great tutor motivating me," you smirk with a wink, mimicking his comment from earlier. 

“Ha! Well, you do! I am the best.” He readjusts both of you, pulling your body closer to his, and repositioning your top leg over his hip. “Now when you’re lying down, kissing can get uncomfortable. But if both of you are into it, it shouldn’t matter. And rolling around usually helps. Got it?”

“Got it.” You don’t wait for him to tell you to try again, you just dive in. His positive feedback has helped you grow your confidence in a short period of time, and you’ve surprised yourself by how comfortable you feel making out with him, when you’ve never really done it with anyone before. 

****

That weekend, you and Changbin sit in his car after a tasty dinner at your favorite Italian bistro. The restaurant's neon sign casts a soft glow through the windshield, illuminating Changbin's face as he leans toward you. His eyes, warm and inviting, flick down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. Your heart races with anticipation.

"I had a great time tonight," Changbin says softly, his hand reaching for yours.

You smile, gathering your courage. "Me too."

As he leans in for what he expects to be his usual gentle peck, you surprise him by cupping his face with both hands. You hold him in place, tilting your head slightly as you deepen the kiss. Your tongue traces his lower lip before easing into his mouth.

Changbin makes a small sound of surprise, then leans into the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck. The console between you digs into your ribs, but you barely notice, lost in the sensation of his lips moving against yours.

When you finally pull away, both slightly breathless, Changbin's eyes are wide with pleasant surprise. "Wow," he breathes. "That was... unexpected. But amazing."

You can't help but grin, a mixture of pride and excitement coursing through you. "I've been practicing," you admit, then quickly add, "In my head, I mean. Imagining. And watching porn." You grin.

Changbin chuckles, his thumb caressing your cheek. "Well, your imagination is impressive. What else have you been imagining?" And after a beat he adds, “and what kind of porn???”

“Don’t you worry about that!” you laugh. “I don’t ask you about your porn, you don’t ask me about mine.” 

“Deal!” he says with a chuckle. “Cause some of my porn is pretty cringey!”

As he starts the car, you ask softy, "Hey, Changbin? Can you stay over tonight?"

He glances at you, his expression a mix of excitement and concern. "Are you sure? I thought you had to study."

"I'm sure," you nod, your heart pounding. "I can study tomorrow."

Changbin happily agrees, his face breaking into a wide grin. He’s slept over before, but usually, the two of you only cuddle. You want to do more tonight. 

After washing your face and changing into your PJs, you climb into bed with Changbin. He’s in his undershirt and boxers, his muscular arms and legs on display. He cuddles you like he’s done many times before. "So, what do you want to do?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You take a deep breath. "I want... I want more," you say hesitantly.

Changbin raises an eyebrow in surprise. "What kind of ‘more’?"

You blush, feeling suddenly shy about voicing your desires out loud. "I want... to... make out with you," you say in a small voice. 

"Okay then," Changbin whispers before leaning in to kiss you again.

This kiss is deeper than the one in the car, filled with unspoken promises and longing. His hands roam over your back as yours tangle in his hair, drawing him closer. His hands wander slowly down your back. You gently guide one of his hands to your ass and encourage him to squeeze, like you did the week prior. He’s hesitant at first, but then he grabs two handfuls of flesh, making you yelp.

“Sorry,” he whispers against your lips.

“It’s okay. I liked it,” you whisper back with a smile before you playfully nip at his lip. He laughs and resumes kissing you. One of his hands moves to cup your breast through your shirt, making you moan into his mouth. It feels so good. You pull him on top of you, and the two of you spend a few hours making out heavily.  

As you wake the next morning, your lips throb and tingle delightfully from last night's passionate kissing. You're surprised by how much you enjoy the slight discomfort, not realizing that your lips could get sore. But it makes sense, you rationalize in your head, since there must be muscles there that help them to move and pucker. 

While you eat lunch, you can't stop smiling at the memory of Changbin's happy face as he left your dorm room. His gentle kiss goodbye still lingers on your lips and in your heart. If this is what you’ve been missing out on with him, you can’t wait to explore more.

**** 

You can barely contain your excitement as you settle into your usual table in the student center for your next session with Chan. As soon as he arrives, flashing that signature dimpled smile, you blurt out, "It worked!"

Chan's eyebrows shoot up as he slides into the seat across from you. "Someone's in a good mood," he teases. "What worked?"

"The kissing techniques," you whisper, leaning in conspiratorially. "Let's just say my boyfriend was very impressed."

Chan's laugh is warm and genuine. "Look at you, becoming a master seductress already." He winks, then adds, "I did pretty well too. Aced my last quiz."

"That's fantastic!" You hold up your hand for a high five, which he enthusiastically returns. 

As Chan starts on his homework, you can't help but notice biting his lower lip again when he's thinking hard. It's... distractingly cute.

The rest of the session flies by, the two of you falling into your easy rhythm of banter and problem-solving.

"So," Chan says, as you're both packing up. "Ready for your next lesson?" His voice drops an octave.

You nod, trying not to appear too excited. "Where to, professor?"

Chan grins at the nickname. "Um… let’s go to the Sandbar. It’s still early, so it will be pretty quiet before happy hour starts. Perfect for... practical demonstrations. Plus, my roommate is the bartender, and he’ll hook us up."

At the bar, Chan introduces you to one of his roommates, Minho, who drops off a pitcher of beer and two chilled pint glasses to your booth tucked away in a dimly lit corner towards the back. 

As Minho walks back to the bar, Chan moves to your side of the booth and leans in close. "Foreplay," he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear, "is all about building anticipation. It starts long before you hit the bedroom. It's in the way you look at your partner, the casual touches."

"Show me," you whisper.

"The key," he whispers in your ear, his voice a sensual purr, "is taking your time.” Chan's fingers trail lightly along your arm, barely touching. "It's also about suggestion," he explains. "Hinting at what's to come." His hand moves to your neck, fingertips grazing your skin. "Teasing them until they're aching for your touch. How does that feel?"

"Tingly," you admit, your voice slightly breathless. "Like little electric shocks."

He nods approvingly. “Explore every inch of your partner's body, paying special attention to their erogenous zones. Graze, nuzzle, kiss."

His skilled fingers move to your lips, brushing lightly against them before trailing down your chin to your sternum. Your breath catches as his hand grazes the exposed skin of your cleavage, followed by his thumb circling your sensitive nipple through the fabric of your tank top, which immediately hardens by arousal.

He smiles approvingly. "Moans are your best friend," he huskily informs you, his lips grazing your earlobe. "They let your partner know what you like."

As if on cue, a low moan escapes your lips when he pinches your nipple, spurring him on. His mouth follows his hand’s path, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses down your neck, over your sternum, and onto your cleavage, making your knees weak and pulling more sounds from you.

"See?" he murmurs against your skin, satisfaction lacing his voice. "Communication is key."

With that, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue invading your mouth. His hands slip beneath your tank top, his fingers teasingly brushing against the heated skin of your belly, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

Over the next hour, Chan walks you through the finer points of foreplay – the art of the tease, the power of anticipation, the importance of paying attention to your partner's responses. He demonstrates each technique with a clinical detachment, but there's no denying the heat that simmers between you, the way your body responds to even his most innocent touches.

"Now, your turn. Show me what you've learned."

Emboldened by the beer coursing through your system and the heady rush of new knowledge, you slide closer to him. Taking a deep breath, you extend your hand towards him, feeling the heat emanating from his skin, letting your fingers dance along his forearm and trace his defined muscles. You lean in, nuzzling slightly against his neck, your lips barely brushing his skin as you whisper, "Like this?"

You feel rather than hear Chan's sharp intake of breath. His voice comes out husky when he responds, "Exactly like that." A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you hear the approval in his tone. 

You pepper a few soft kisses on his neck as your hands tickle the skin around the waistband of his jeans, causing him to sigh. "Fuuuck.” His head falls back against the seat. “You catch on quickly."

“Thanks,” you say giddily. As you pull back, you catch a glimpse of something in Chan's eyes – a flash of heat, quickly masked. It makes your heart race, and you wonder if you're getting in over your head.

The moment passes, and Chan rotates his head lazily to stare at you while he leans back in the seat, his signature dimpled smile returning. "Not bad for a beginner," he teases, raising his glass in a mock toast.

You laugh, feeling the tension dissipate as you clink your glass against his.

As the weekday happy hour crowd starts to arrive, your conversation drifts away from the intimate lesson and into more casual territory. You find yourself genuinely enjoying Chan's company, surprised by how easy it is to talk to him. As you talk and laugh together, you’re also surprised at how much you’re opening up to him.

"So, what made you decide to go into mechanical engineering?" you ask, sipping your drink. "Was it always your dream?"

Chan shrugs, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the tabletop. "Not exactly. My parents always pushed me to excel academically, I've always been good at math and science, and I like to build things. Engineering just seemed like the logical choice."

"But is it what you want?"

He's quiet for a moment, considering. "I don't know," he admits finally. "I mean, I'm good at it and I’m interested in designing roller coasters. But sometimes I wonder if there's more out there for me, you know?"

You nod, understanding completely. "I feel the same way about my major sometimes. Like I'm just going through the motions, doing what's expected of me."

"Exactly." Chan's eyes meet yours, a spark of connection passing between you. "It's like, is this all there is? Studying and working and just... existing?"

"Right. There has to be more to life than that," you agree. "Yeah, I want to work for NASA, but I also want to travel, to experience new things… to fall in love." The words slip out before you can stop them, hanging in the air between you.

Chan's gaze softens a bit. “NASA huh?” He smiles and you’re appreciative of him ignoring your last comment. 

“You want to make roller coasters, I want to study black holes.”

“That’s pretty fucking cool! I’ve also thought about building rockets and spaceships, but it felt too far-fetched.”

“Not at all. Tons of mechanical engineers are hired by NASA. But only if they pass Diff Eq,” you tease with a smirk. 

“Ha, ha,” he says sarcastically as he refills your beer. 

As the night wears on, you find yourself losing track of time, too caught up in the thrill of deep conversation, shared dreams, and this apparent friendship you and Chan are developing. Around you, the bar begins to fill with folks interested in cheap beer and discounted food. Clusters of college students talk and flirt and dance to the music spilling from the jukebox.

You become increasingly aware of the looks you and Chan are getting – curiosity, envy, speculative whispers. A group of girls at the bar, in particular, keep glancing over, giggling behind their hands. Chan seems oblivious, his attention focused solely on you.

"Does it ever bother you?" you ask him, nodding towards the onlookers.

He follows your gaze and chuckles. "The attention? Nah, I'm used to it. It’s a burden looking like this," he adds with a wink, followed by a deep laugh. You roll your eyes but can't help smiling. "Besides, it's not like any of what they’re thinking is true tonight."

After the two of you finish a third pitcher, the pressure in your bladder becomes impossible to ignore. "I’ll be right back," you say, tapping him on the shoulder to let you out. “Bathroom break.” You slide out of the booth. 

He nods, his eyes crinkling with a smile. "You’re breaking the seal, lady! So dangerous,” he says with a laugh. “But, hurry back. I’ll be lonely without you," he coos as he sits back down.

As you wait in line for the ladies' room, you can't help but notice the girls a couple spots ahead of you in line. They're eyeing you with blatant curiosity, whispering.

Finally, one of them turns to you with a bright smile. "Hey, are you here with Chan?" she asks across several people, her eyes wide. 

You blink, caught off guard. "Oh, um. Yeah, kind of.” You stammer. “I'm his tutor, actually."

The girls exchange knowing looks, giggling. "His tutor, huh? Is that what he's calling it these days?"

“No, really,” you say with a smile. “I’m tutoring him for his differential equations class.”

She raises an eyebrow, looking skeptical. "Really? You don’t look like a tutor.” She shifts from one leg to another as she sizes you up.

“And yet, I am. Physics major; top of my class.” You’re always slightly irritated that people assume you can’t be cute AND smart.

“That's amazing!" the other girl gushes. You’re not sure if she’s being facetious or channeling some girl power energy.  

You nod and give them a fake smile. 

They turn back to their conversation and a couple seconds later they walk into the bathroom. After 5 more minutes it’s finally your turn and your bladder is fucking thankful. 

As you head back to the booth, you spot Chan standing next to the bar chatting with one of the girls who had just spoken to you. His charm is on full display, dimpled smile flashing as he leans in close, leaning his ear towards her to hear her over the music. Her hand rests on his arm as she laughs at something he says.

You roll your eyes and snicker. You’ve been gone for less than 10 minutes and he’s already on the hunt. This is your signal that it’s time to go. You’ve already taken up a lot of his time tonight.  

You grab your bag and approach Chan at the bar. "Hey, Chan," you interrupt, "I'm heading out. Early class tomorrow."

Chan looks up at you in surprise, his brow furrowing, his smile faltering slightly. "What? Nooooo! Stay; have a couple more drinks," he pleads, those expressive brown eyes locking onto yours. He flashes you that charming, dimpled grin, the one that would make your knees melt if you were into him like that. 

You hesitate, tempted by his request since you were enjoying chatting with him. But then you catch the other girl's side-eye, clearly indicating that she wants him all to herself, and make up your mind. "No thanks,” you say with a smile. “I really do need to get some studying done. How much do I owe you for the pitchers?”

Chan opens his mouth as if to protest, but instead adds, “Don’t worry about. Min took care of it for us.”

“Cool,” you say nonchalantly. “Tell him I said thanks and I’ll see you at our session next week, okay?"

“Yeah, okay.” He watches you as you leave.

“Have fun,” you call out over your shoulder with a wink. 

“You too! And be careful not to give buddy a heart attack this weekend!” he replies with a chuckle before diving right back into his flirting.

As you walk away, you can't help but feel a little excited. You've learned so much tonight, and you can't wait to try it out with Changbin. The thought of his intense eyes softening as you put your new skills to use sends a shiver down your spine.

[aqwnstars]

Give me siren scara or bratty mermaid scara hc pls. I'm begging you. I'm on the floor. I'm bashing my head on the wall.

HEY POOKIE<33 TYSM FOR REQUESTING!!

- A.N- I haven't been writing lately because my schools getting harder and I recently got an F in an exam so i have to study so the alpha scara isn't coming out soon so sorry my lovelies :(( I try to do my requests first, and then any other fanfic i started doing, but since fanfics take me a week or so to write, this one.... will be written in a headcanon format.. I'm not that experienced with writing a hc format so any criticism is appreciated, in a later time i might make a whole fanfic<33 (FUUCKKCKKKS I FORGOT TO WRITE HIM AS A BRAT ONEOMFMKOAKXKSK)

uhhmmmm i keep noticing i always write scara pining over reader which im not sure if its TOTTALLLYY in character, but writing him pinininy is cute so stfu🙏🙏🙏

Siren Scaramouche x partially deaf gn reader

Word count: 686 (short one..)

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None!!

Pronouns: You/Yours, reader can be any gender (meant to be gender neutral!!)

Loving waves

Siren! Scaramouche who was known in the underwater world as the most majestic siren out of all.

His voice was such a lulling song so much so that anyone who gave him their listening ear couldn't help but be entranced.

And how shocked he was when he met a person he couldn't lure in.

He began to only think about them, at first planning on how to kill them because he wouldn't let someone he choose to lure in and kill survive, due to his ego, but that began to turn into a genuine interest a few weeks later.

Without thinking about it, Scaramouche had spent hours just staring at you, he wouldn't say it's admiring of course.

It has become a routine at this point, you'd go work outside, maybe take a walk and he'd just stare at you, gazing longingly at your features from afar.

The way you two met would be as if it was straight out of a fairy tale, he'd get caught up in a fishing web, and you'd be his knight in shining armor!!

Him, being a siren, is seen as a terrifying being, a coldblooded murderer, but to you he was such a majestic being, if you were more naive you'd think he was a God (in which case, he wouldn't complain!!)

Everyday since you had saved him, you started to visit him. You brought little trinkets from your home, and he brought you a few shells. (sometimes that is, if you're lucky!!) Might I add, the shells he gifted you were like no other. They range in colors and shapes, not even the most avid collecters saw the shells he had given you.

He enjoyed spending time with you, more than he thought he would. He has gotten used to being alone, so a daily presence in his life was something unusual.

He'd let you touch his tail, his face turning pink as you compliment him. Your fingers on his tail, lightly caressing his scales. He couldn't help but look away as you admired him. If anyone else had requested to touch his tail, he'd plan a new song just for them, ...let's ignore the fact he offered to let you touch his tail, that's an unimportant detail.

One of the things he loved, ahem... liked most about you is the gentleness your eyes hold. He has gotten so used to the trashing waves of hatred in the mankinds eyes, but to see one's with calming flowing water? He could and would get lost in that body of water, no hesitation, of course he wouldn't tell you that though!

He wanted to listeh to you all day, anyone who said his voice was enchanting has never heard yours. Although you sometimes slur your words, stutter and at times get too loud, he loves that about you.

At times he wished you were a siren too, how beautiful would you look under the waters light he wonders. How would your tail sway in the oceans, rivers and seas?

One time, you asked him whether or not he can sing without indangering someone, he had never thought about that. Well of course he's not gonna risk losing his only love to find out, but that's a story for another day.

A few things I can definitely see him doing is;

Giving you his scales! He could tell how you always admired his tail, your eyes glowing at how his tail would practically shine under the Suns light. One night, he'd pluck a scale out, later in the say give it to you, saying: "It had accidentally fallen out, here. Don't think for a second I pulled it out for you." All while looking away, trying to look as non-chalant as possible while.. panicking inside over your reaction.

This might seem cruel, but he'd sing to insects, without the intention of killing them, to see if he can sing to you without putting you in danger.

He'd look around the seas floor for hours to find a shell that you'd like!! (.. you like everything he gives you so that's... pointless..)

AND THAT'S ALL I HAVE ON SIREN SCARA!!! :DD I HOPE I SATISFIED YOUR REQUEST POOKIE!!! (hope i did the hc format right..............

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Never Beating the Big Brother Allegations

Vil + Epel + Leona, it's a little shippy between Leona and Vil, Leona does call Vil, Princess and is just generally Flirty but it's up to you whether you want to take it as him being a little facetious or if it's Real. Also tw for blood/injury Epel has a bloody nose and is a little banged up (not angsty dw) Also I know Lions don't purr, Leona does, deal with it.

--------------------------------------------

"Hey, take it easy Crash, sit down." Leona couldn't help but smirk a bit at the look Epel gave him.

Epel was sitting on one of the infirmary beds, the rest empty save for him, holding a cloth with ice under his nose as he leaned forward a bit, the blood from his nose staining it a dark red. His brow was cocked, challenging Leona for a moment. Despite how ridiculous he knew he sounded when he spoke, he decided to anyways.

"It ain't that bad, this weren't the first time I done somethin' like this. I'm fine, I hit ma head 'nough times when I was younger t'know this ain't nothin' t'worry 'bout! We didn' have t'lug ourselves all the way t'the goddamned infirmary for a nosebleed and a couple bruises....and my name ain't Crash."

Leona snorted a bit and poked Epel's head, causing the younger one to recoil a bit and make a disgruntled noise in response. "It is until further notice. I've never seen anyone bail as hard as you did, or come out of it with something as minor as a nosebleed. Even with the cleaning spell Ruggie casted, you look like you rolled around in a pig sty..." He paused and sniffed the air a bit, nose scrunching a bit. "...and smell like it too."

Epel shot him a dirty look, about to speak again when the tell tale clicks of heels on tile became apparent to both of them, Leona's ear flicking at the same time Epel groaned.

"You told Vil??"

"What am I, your babysitter? Obligated to tell your mom what happened?? No I didn't tell Vil, Rook was probably being a creep again and reported back to your housewarden."

"VIL AIN'T MY MOM."

"And you're not my child, but for Seven's sake Epel, did you really think that news of you being sent to the infirmary wouldn't reach me eventually?" Vil stood in the doorway of the infirmary, hands on his hips, and brows knitted. "What have I told you about the way you fly? You're far too reckless, this was bound to happen eventually." He tsked softly, walking briskly over to the bed and grabbing Epel's face gently. He looked over him for a moment, then at the rest of his body and sighed.

"Rook told me you took the disc to the face and ended up spiraling out of the air. I was worried it was worse. You're very fortunate to have come out of your crash as well as you have." He sighed softly, and pinched the bridge of his nose before turning to Leona.

"You-"

"Not taking your shit. This kinda stuff happens sometimes when people decide to do more than pretend they're someone else as a hobby." Leona gave Vil a shit-eating grin, teasing him a bit.

Vil shook his head. "That's not what you're in trouble for! You weren't going to tell me that my underclassman ended up in the infirmary!"

Despite Vil getting into his personal space a bit, Leona stayed where he was and just smiled more genuinely, though still arrogant. "Who said that? Pretty sure I just said I didn't tell you, not that I wasn't going to. Besides, Crash was sayin' it's no big deal, and anyone who can take the kinda hit he did and walk away's got some pull on their say. I believe him."

"My name is NOT Crash!!" Epel stood up from the bed, swaying a tiny bit, which did not go unnoticed by either of his upperclassmen, both of them reaching out...well, Leona, pushing him gently back onto the bed, and Vil, ready to offer a helping hand, the blonde shooting the other a bit of a dirty look. Epel groaned a bit and moved the towel away from his nose. "See, it's mostly stopped bleeding now anyways, it wasn't a big deal, it isn't a big deal and BOTH A YA'S HAVE GOTTA STOP ACTIN' LIKE AHM SOME BIG BABY!"

Leona acted faster than either of the Pomefiore residents had time to react, slipping his arm around Vil's shoulders and turning him away from Epel, (who was about ready to swallow his hands as a means of shutting himself up), and utilized his secret weapon. A deep, rumbly purr caught Vil off guard as Leona very lightly bumped his face against Vil's hair.

For the second time in less than a minute, Vil was surprised by the actions of his fellow schoolmates. Such a ...tender sound coming from Leona was baffling enough he allowed himself to be walked out of the room.

Once out of the room, Leona let go of Vil, giving him another, signature cocky smile, though softened by a bit of embarrassment he tried so hard to conceal.

"Alright Princess, I know all that must have been stressful for you, why don't you go and find something that'll help you forget about today."

The corner of Vil's lips kicked up in amusement.

"Acting would be a good skill to have right about now for you, wouldn't it."

Leona's ears flattened, he touched the back of his neck awkwardly and looked to the side, his tail flicking slightly, though between his legs. "Shut up."

"Is that how you speak to princesses?" Vil smirked, his hands on his hips as he looked up at Leona, teasing him.

Leona huffed a bit, amused. "Nah, none of them are worth talking to." He waited a beat, his sliding sideways to meet Vil's once more. "But I guess that's on me for calling you one, when everyone already knows you're a queen."

He chuffed softly, placing one hand on his hip as Vil crossed his arms in a lightheartedly 'angry' way, though he was smiling at the beastman.

"I'll make sure Epel gets back before curfew, don't worry. The kid's got spunk. He'll be right as rain in the next hour or so. Now I was serious, go do something else, anywhere else." He huffed a bit, matching Vil's playful energy as his tail flicked.

"Augh, fine, if you insist. If he's late, it's you who's going to be in trouble."

Leona waved Vil off somewhat dismissively, but they both knew it was light hearted. He immediately dropped the whole facade as he walked back into the infirmary, expression difficult to read as Epel looked at him a little warily.

"What did you-"

"You owe me."

Epel groaned, moving the towel away from his nose. "What do you want? Or is it Vil askin' by proxy?"

Leona moved to the side, preparing another cloth, wetting it with clean water and holding it out to Epel as he took the sullied one away.

"Whatever you've got on your plate for lunch, if it looks appealing, I'm taking some. Just for the week."

Epel took a moment to register what the new cloth was for, before gently wiping at some of the blood that was still left on his face and eyeing Leona warily. He sighed, when his upperclassmen seemed serious about the matter.

"Alright. I guess that's doable." He sighed, finally relenting to Leona's care as they tried to confirm his nose wasn't broken.

------------------------------------------------------

"Your lunch sucks ass Crash." Leona's voice made Epel startle slightly in the cafeteria, the freshmen whipping around in his seat to look up at Savannaclaw's housewarden.

"I wha? Huh??" He looked back down at his food for a moment, his brows furrowed. "What's wrong with my food?"

Leona snickered a bit and lightly flicked Epel's head. "You responded to Crash as your name. Enjoy your food I guess."

Ruggie was quick behind Leona, nabbing one of Epel's bread rolls and taking a bite, snickering as well. "Damn, guess you really are Crash now."

Epel's cheeks flushed a bit at being called Crash in front of his first year friends, but realized his fate was already sealed as he saw Ace's expression out of the corner of his eye...and that he would more than likely be left alone lunch wise for the rest of the week, getting off easy on his punishment.

-----------------------------------------------------

As always, it's not beta read lmao

lmk if you wanna hop on the tag list:

@galaxies-and-gore @fluffle-writes

[verkomy]

okay so I’m rereading the hobbit and I want to make a list of my favorite quotes and parts so here we go:

“bilbo (…) got something a bit queer in his make-up from the took side” I chuckled

“mr. baggins was very fond of flowers” of course he was he’s a blorbo

“it was a beautiful golden harp, and when thorin struck it the music began all at once, so sudden and sweet that bilbo forgot everything else” bombastic side eye

“as he lay in bed he could hear thorin still humming to himself in the best bedroom next to him. bilbo went to sleep with that in his ears, and it gave him very uncomfortable dreams” criminal offensive side eye

“the explanation did not seem to explain” my brain 24/7 (but also when someone’s trying to explain the rules of any board game to me)

“bilbo was wearing a dark-green hood and a dark-green cloak borrowed from dwalin. they were too large for him, and he looked rather comic” bilbo in dwarven clothes, just throwing it out there

“bilbo baggins, a bur — a hobbit,” said poor bilbo, shaking all over, and wondering how to make owl-noises before their throttled him” this one made me laugh

“trolls simply detest the very sight of dwarves (uncooked)” this one too

“his house was perfect, whether you liked food, or sleep, or work, or story-telling, or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all” I want to go to there

“dori, who was at the back next to bilbo, and a decent fellow. he made the hobbit scramble on his shoulders as best as he could with his tied hands, and then off they all went at a run. (…) that sent them on faster than ever, and as poor bilbo could not possibly go half as fast, they took it in turn to carry him on their backs” WE WERE ROBBED

“why, o why did I ever leave my hobbit-hole!” said poor mr. baggins bumping up and down on bombur’s back “why, o why did I ever bring a wretched little hobbit on a treasure hunt!” said poor bombur” comedic duo

gandalf answered angrily “I brought him, and I don’t bring things that are of no use” we love a supportive friend

“(gandalf) gave bilbo a queer look from under his bushy eyebrows” live gandalf reaction

“you ought not to be rude to an eagle, when you are only the size of a hobbit” good life advice

“here they sat on wooden benches while gandalf began his tale, and bilbo swung his dangling legs and looked at the flowers in the garden” a short king <3

“that only makes eleven and not fourteen, unless wizards count differently to other people” I LOVE BOOK BEORN SO MUCH and this whole chapter is probably my favorite by far

“the hobbit felt quite crushed, and as there seemed nothing else to do he did go to bed” what a mood

“long noses are sometimes useful you see” do with that information what you want

“they knew only too well that they would soon all have been dead, if it had not been for the hobbit; and they thanked him many times” AS THEY SHOULD, too bad thorin didn’t see any of what happened

“he did not like being dependent on by everyone, and he wished he had the wizard at hand” honestly, same

“never laugh at live dragon, bilbo you fool” another hopeful advice

“you are more worthy to wear the armour of elf-princes than many that have looked more comely in it. but wonder if thorin oakenshield will see it too” ouch

“then bilbo turned away, and he went by himself, and sat alone wrapped in a blanket, and, whether you believe it or not, he wept until his eyes were red and his voice was hoarse” this one hurts

“he was in fact held by all the hobbits of the neighbourhood to be queer” of course he was :D

[agirlandherquill]

oc interview tag

thanks @willtheweaver for the tag!

this one looks like fun!

i'll be using Edeva from Ruin's Reprisal for this one,

Were you named after anyone? - "Well, my middle name comes from a distant relative - Maenaire, I think there was a legend written about her once, I never had the chance to find out her story but my mother clearly saw some similarities between us."

When was the last time you cried? - "Ah, that. Do tears of anger count? I cried enough while I was screaming at Fenley for being a mangisen - that's a pig, in my native language. I think he got the message, tears or not."

Do you have any kids? - "No. I never considered children, and I don't think motherhood is a suitable role for an Exilza. I would never subject a child to this life, but if that ever changes... I don't know, maybe I would, if I found someone - someone that was right."

Do you use sarcasm a lot? - "More often with Fenley than not, I don't know why he just- Brings something out in me."

What is the first thing you notice about people? - "...In the old days, I would have said their faces. Faces can change, they can hide things, but I always looked at the eyes - These days, I notice whether someone is armed. I know more dangerous people than not at present and... It can never hurt to be safe."

What is your eye colour? - "Blue. Though Fenley would have many other things to say - He pays far more attention than I."

Scary movies or happy endings? - "I need no tales to know fear, and though I have yet to know one, I'd prefer a happy ending."

Any special talents? - "I can silence the most fearsome man the country has ever known with a single word, does that count? Oh, and please don't tell Fenley."

Where were you born? - "Vitaire Manor, right here in Aliria."

Do you have any pets? - "I was too preoccupied with the goings on of Court to take responsibility for anything other than myself, sadly. And in the wilderness now, I would wish that upon no animal."

What sort of sports do you play? - "Something of a verbal sparring match with Fenley, though sometimes, rare times - things almost turn violent. He never lets me harm him or myself in the process, which is nice. And despite what he says - I do win our arguments."

How tall are you? - "As much as I would love to call myself average, Fenley's laughter can be heard from here - I know, I know, I'm not as tall as I think I am."

What was your favourite subject in school? - "I seldom had proper lessons, aside from personal tutors but... I learned to dance, with Arden. That was one of the lessons I enjoyed the most."

What is your dream job? - "I've never had a job. I've always had an expectation - my engagement to Arden decided most of my life, until our wedding day - Well, I won't say being engaged to a Prince is simple, but it was certainly easier than being an Exilza."

now for the tags! i just updated my tag list so here goes! no pressure of course, looking forward to getting to know some other people's characters! - also open tag!

~ ~ ~ tags ~ ~ ~

@the-ellia-west @tildeathiwillwrite @drchenquill @365runesofthesystem @coffin-hopping

@godsmostfuckedupgoblin @a-mimsy-borogove @frostedlemonwriter @i-do-anything-but-write @r-u-living

@thatuselesshuman @lead-to-code @sunflowerrosy @theaistired @phoenixradiant

@autism-purgatory @corinneglass @tiredpapergirl @patheticexcuseforawriter @missmisanthrope

@your-writing-motivation @littlestchildofthemoon @morganxduinn @thebrownleathernotebook @rmhashauthor

@lamuradex @fantasy-things-and-such @glasshouses-and-stones @hattonthehatman @humbly-a-doppelganger

@hopecreatesstuff @ramwritblr @s-pendragon7 @thelastneuron @heartreactor

@ihauntmyhouse @shiningstars-world @scaewolf @mehxis @just-emis-blog

@joeys-piano @ramitola @thestoryteller8 @yrndrgn @riveriafalll

@lawrencespen1777 @theverumproject @zackprincebooks @ansanity2 @justjariel

@orion-lacroix @jupiter---daydreams @vinniehorrible @stars-forever @thewritingautisticat

@whatwewrotepodcast @anaisbebe @appleandsnow @urnumber1star @chaotictravelerrants

@andagii-projects @dragmewithyoutonirvana @a-bi-cat-with-books @fearofahumanplanet @just-a-domesticated-cryptid

[straw-hat-nakama-22]

Lines From Hadestown

Luffy: Come home with me! (He literally says this to every member of his crew)

Zoro: All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own, but now I want to hold you, too.

Nami: Euridice was a hungry young girl. A runaway from everywhere she’d ever been. She was no stranger to the world. She was no stranger to the wind.

Usopp: If it’s true what they say, I’ll be on my way. But who are they to say, what the truth is any way? Cause the ones who tell the lies, are the solemnest to swear, and the ones who load the dice, always say the toss is fair.

Sanji: You would do anything just to fill your belly full of food, find a bed that you could fall into where the weather wouldn't follow you.

Chopper: And this poor boy, he wore his heart out on his sleeve, you might say he was naive.

Robin: See, someone’s got to tell the tale, whether or not it turns out well.

Franky: He could make you see how the world could be. In spite of the way that it is.

Brook: A song to fix what’s wrong, take what’s broken, make it whole. A song so beautiful it brings the world back into tune, back into time. And all the flowers will bloom.

Garp: Why do we build the wall or Take it from an old man.

Ace: It’s a sad song, it's a tragedy. But we're going to sing it again.

Sabo: They’ll pluck the heart right out yo’ chest. They’ll truss you up in your Sunday best and stuff your mouth with cotton!

Vivi: Wait for me, I’m coming too, wait I’m coming with you.

Koby: Low, oh you gotta keep your head low, if you wanna keep your head, oh you gotta keep your head-

Shanks: And it ain’t because I’m kind, but his Mama was a friend of mine. And I liked to hear him sing, and his way of seeing things, so I took him under my wing. And that is where he stayed until one day…

Buggy: And jealousy fuels him and feeds him and fills him.

[cellarspider]

25/30 Eschatology for Dummies

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

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Once again, we dive into that font of madness, Prometheus. I lied last time, we’re not talking about language today, I want to bash my head against the problem of “what in blazes is the intent of this movie”.

As the expedition enters the alien structure, suddenly Shaw remembers that germs can float.

“Wait. We still don’t know how Holloway got infected. If it’s in the air–”

This is one of those maddening little moments where the script tells me that no, the earlier removal of helmets was not just the oversight of someone who didn’t know better. The script chose violence.

“Smells fine to me.”

So does VX nerve gas. Truly, this is the mental acumen required to become rich.

The movie attempts to raise tension through a ZOOM AND ENHANCE, and cluing in those in the audience who may have been thinking “Ha! Foolish Engineers! How would they ever destroy life on Earth if they don’t have any spaceships?”

Well, turns out, there are these great big buildings called “hangars”, and you can put spaceships in them, sometimes even under the ground. I almost feel like if they hadn’t buried the ship, Holloway would’ve tried to see if he could do a burnout in it.

David, meanwhile, is having a great time. He’s giving a guided tour of the ship (that he explored more thoroughly than anyone else), pointing out their technology (that he learned how to use), explaining what they were doing (which he figured out before anyone else did), and assuring Weyland that yes, he can talk to the Engineer (which no one else can do), blithely skating by the reasons why he knows Holloway didn’t die from an airborne illness and how the Engineers were going to press the reset buttons on Earth. Simultaneously excelling at what he was supposed to do and also anticipating Weyland’s inevitable doom, possibly even that of humanity as a whole. It feels appropriately childish for a character that’s extremely young, extremely smart, and has had the worst socialization this side of Immortan Joe’s war boys.

Weyland doesn’t care about any of that, because he’s a horrible homunculus of an old Englishman formed out of a forty-five year old Aussie. This continues to vex me, even now. I keep trying to figure out why they did this. Did they originally intend for him to be depicted as young and change their mind? Was the mobility aid exoskeleton thing they put him in heavy and cumbersome? It’s hard to see in these screenshots, but he is wearing one.

Honestly, just have Lance Henriksen play another Weyland again. Lance can definitely play scumbags, and it would honestly be funny to have every single Weyland in every single time period played by him. Have him play Vickers too, for good measure. It would’ve taken me out of the film less than this.

At this point, I personally did not care about any characters besides David and the Engineer. Which is a very strange position to find oneself in, caring most about two characters who seem just fine with humanity going pft! 

And I’d like to examine that. Because fiction can put you in all sorts of strange headspaces that can be thoroughly contradictory to personal morals and self-interest. What was the movie trying to do here, and where has it ended up?

I want to start with some assumptions that mass media tends to make. Fiction, in general culture, is often presented as a moral lesson. Your protagonists are virtuous, and anything that stands in their way is villainous evil. The protagonists are also expected to be likable, and the audience is expected to root for them. A moral tale of who is worthy and who is not.

This is only a small piece of what fiction is. No one of these things is required. Villains are not required, sometimes problems aren’t caused maliciously. Protagonists do not have to be moral. Moral characters don’t have to be likable. You don’t have to root for the protagonists. And none of these divisions are binary.

I am uncertain whether we are supposed to root for the protagonists in this movie. Ridley Scott isn’t a stranger to this idea–look at Blade Runner (1982). Is it good that Deckard hunts down fugitive replicants? No. Absolutely not. Is it a compelling story? Yes! It’s beautifully told and tragic! If you make me watch Roy Batty’s monologue I will cry.

So. It is entirely possible that we are supposed to find the human characters unsympathetic. The Engineers created humanity, and then decided to destroy it. This could have been planned from the start–many religions describe cyclical, world-ending death and rebirth, after all. But this movie is heavily influenced by christianity. Those sects that believe in a destructive apocalypse call it the Last Judgment of humanity, something that occurs when the world has fallen into a state of corruption.

Which then brings us to the question: Does humanity deserve that most fatal judgment?

I mean, in real life, I’d say no, absolutely fucking not. The problem of a suffering world is not sanely responded to with “I’ve got a solution: murder everything”. 

This is fiction, though. We are being presented with a vision of humanity. This has the potential to be a counterpoint to the Engineers’ thinking, or their evidence, or a mix of both.

What is it, then? Most of the cast are morons, selfish, or featureless ciphers. They are a very pessimistic view of humanity. And remember, this is fiction. People don’t need to act like real people. When you think about redeeming qualities in yourself, in your friends, in your favorite so-and-so, this fictional realm does not necessarily contain them. In its barest form, it only contains the characters we see.

We’ve got Janek, who’s been charming and indicated he’s willing to stop the Engineers here, but that’s all we know about him. He’s also behaved in negligent ways that contributed to the deaths of Millburn, Fifield, and the nameless guys mutant Fifield wailed on. Christian morality is big on redemption as a path to unconditional absolution, so is he redeeming himself through a last-minute sobering up? Maybe. I’d note he’s missing the “confession” and “recanting past sins” parts that are usually bundled up with that.

We’ve also got Shaw. Shaw has all the makings of a Final Girl, somebody who is destined to survive the plot. They usually have some redeeming quality that makes you want to root for them. What does Shaw have?

Well, she’s got a never super-defined strain of christian faith. And she’s had a really shit time lately, so it would be cruel to watch her get kicked around more.

So, that’s two. Two could be enough in Abrahamic religions–Lot flees from Sodom to Zoar, and it’s spared from destruction because of his presence. Sure, he does some Weird Shit, but he qualified as righteous by whatever standards were at play there. But Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed for want of ten righteous people. 

And all that gets more complicated in New Testament stuff, after God’s pinky promised not to destroy everyone again, except for the aforementioned Last Judgment thing. Is this movie, as christian allegory, advocating for a god of forgiveness, or depicting a just god who punishes the wicked?

No idea. It doesn’t have to be clear, obviously, fiction doesn’t have to be clear, any more than it has to be moral. I didn’t personally want the Engineer to sail off and destroy Earth, but frankly, I could see it from that perspective, given what this poor bugger’s met with upon waking up.

Next time: our Engineer wakes up from a two thousand year trauma nap to find some little monkeys yelling at them. Surely, this will go well.

⛬

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Alt-text rambles:

https://extra-images.akamaized.net/image/8a/5by6/2021/04/17/8a6f54c4f0ca4bd397cc22aceb4cb30e_md.jpg 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Torc 

[mvndrvke]

someone's got to tell the tale, whether or not it turns out well

ind. sel. multimuse featuring orpheus, inspired by the musical hadestown. based primarily on the nytw production with influences from the broadway production. retold by luna.

[artyandink]

we could be more | interview | 1

A/N - Since I found no faceclaim name for Ivy, I’m making an OC called Raye McClaren. Enjoy!

FIRST DAY ON SET

“Today we’re here with the cast of Supernatural.” The reporter, Haley, announced with a smile. “We have Jensen Ackles, who plays Dean Winchester, Jared Padalecki as Sam Winchester and the newest addition, Raye McClaren as Ivonne Rainer. How are you guys feeling having completed season two?”

“Do you want my honest answer?” Raye asked with a smirk.

“Absolutely.”

“Like I wanna leave- just kidding.” She giggled after getting a shoulder punch from Jared. “Exhilarating, cause I went into this not knowing whether the fans would like Ivy or not because, you know, late addition, so on and so forth, but she got an amazing reaction.”

“You really worked for that role.” Jensen grinned, nudging Raye.

“Like she actually worked out.” Jared teased, patting her on the shoulder. “Tell ‘em.”

“So,” Raye chuckled, “I got on set around halfway through the filming of season one, and I’m with Diane, the costume executive, and I meet Kripke, and he takes one look at me and goes ‘well…’ Cause Ivy’s a badass, we’re meant to have a-”

“- badass figure.” Hayley and Raye finished together.

“Exactly. So I’m wonderin’ what’s goin’ on and then Kripke just comes out with ‘ok, you’re gonna give us some muscles before your season two debut.” Raye then made a comical expression, which made Jensen laugh. “He gave me six months. I said ‘No, Eric, give me four’. I was that eager to get lean. Yeah, so I buy every exercise equipment thing and new-fangled object because I need to jack up.”

“We were like- are you sure?” Jared cackled, slapping his knee. “Cause she wasn’t an avid exerciser.”

“Now she’s terrifying; she’s a full blown adrenaline junkie, benching insane amounts and doing pull ups like she’s breathing.” Jensen chuckled, hand on her knee. “But we’re proud of her.”

“She’s our adrenaline junkie.”

“I can imagine.” Haley giggled. “And apparently you weren’t actually about to audition for Supernatural, Raye. What changed your mind?”

Raye giggled, running a hand through her hair. “Well, I was actually going to audition for The Devil Wears Prada, which I realise now that I had no chance for if Anne Hathaway, Meryl Streep and Emily Blunt are in it, but Jensen called me up one day and told me about his TV show Supernatural, which he was on with Jared and they were lookin’ for someone with my description to play a character called Ivonne Rainer.

“I’d known Jensen since I’d been his colleague in Dawson’s Creek in ‘03 as CJ’s eventual girlfriend and best friend Autumn and again his love interest Alyssa in Dark Angel, so I was hyped to be on another set with him. I told my agent, Carly, to book me an audition and I turned up in the wardrobe which I thought Ivy would wear. I felt so nervous, but thank the stars that before every audition I start method acting - I terrified the hell out of Carly - and I was already in the zone.”

“Think about it.” Jared smirked, gesturing and Jensen. “If he wasn’t here, she wouldn’t be.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s true and you know it.”

“I’ve got a big head about it.” Jensen winked.

“You two won’t let me live it down.” Raye shook her head with a soft smile. Jensen patted her knee, then took her hand.

“Raye and I had worked together a lot and our on screen chemistry was insane, so I had to get her on Supernatural. And after Dark Angel, of course she’s fit for Ivy, and I can’t see anyone who’d do a better job.”

“Aw, Jen.”

“You’re great at what you do. Don’t sell yourself short, y’hear?”

“Loud and clear.”

“So, guys, what was your favourite scene to film so far?” Hayley asked, smiling a bit at Jensen and Raye.

“These two have done too much talking, so I’ll start.” Jared grinned. “Uh, I’d say the play fight scene in Tall Tales. That one was particularly memorable because Jensen and I are just rolling around, Raye pushes us both off the bed- it’s just an amazing scene.” Jensen and Raye shared a knowing smirk, which caught Jared’s eye. “Uh, the look on their faces probably means they have a shared answer.”

“I think we do.” Raye smirked, and Jensen nodded.

“Wanna say it together?” He snickered.

“On three. One, two-“

“The sex scene.” They chorused, then giggled.

“It’s cause while Jen and I had kissing scenes before, we’d never had a sex scene.” Raye shrugged, looking over at Jensen. “It tested our calibre as actors in the moment.”

“Eric Kripke’s only instruction was go intense.” Jensen grinned, his hand sliding up to Raye’s mid-thigh. “And we had to stay as in sync as possible cause a lot of things could go wrong, but we managed to get through it.”

“The fans loved it too.”

“Oh, they went mad.”

“See, these two have something brewing in the fan base.” Jared smirked, nudging Raye. “The fans call ‘em Raysen.”

“But, sadly, there’s nothin’.”

“Yet.”

“Shut up.”