#a conversation with you made my stomach rip at itself i wanna make art with you at 2am

[i-hate-gravel]

“somebody i used to know” as a phrase really does so much and has never been more relevant actually

[stinkfacestories]

Bull’s Eye

"Vaaashended.." Iron bull cursed. He and the Inquisitor found themselves at a dead end. The room was filled with large steel trimmed boxes. There was no escape.

"We fight then" The Inquisitor drew his sword.

"Not this one, boss. I'm not one to turn away from a fight but we have no exit. The whole base will flood this room if they catch us." Bull said. He was feeling the wall for hidden doors. Sometimes these bandits were smarter than they looked. He tapped one of the crates. Then another. He found a hollow one. 

"Get in boss, we can hide till midnight then when there all asleep we can escape" Bull lifted the heavy hinged lid.

"You first" you said.

"Nah, if they find us I wanna be between you and the sharp edge of a weapon"

Bull lifted you up and set you in. He crawled in after. It was a tight fit for just a single human, let alone a qunari of bull’s swole size. The hatch was heavy though and when it closed it latched. A few moments of squirming and you were as comfortable as you were going to get.

The crate was well sealed, but not airtight. The body heat between you made you and Bull break out in a sweat.

"Boss? You good?"Bull asked.

"Good as I can be at the moment"

"That's your face I feel isn't it boss"

You paused. In the wriggling and wiggling to get the lid closed and be in a comfortable position Bull had squat squarely on your face.

"It is" you replied

You couldn't see but you bet Bull was smiling.

"Shit boss, I wasn't trying to. Here let me see if I can.." he tried to move. There was no way for his big body to fit inside the crate any other way. The shifting just resulted in his muscular cheeks slapping your nose side to side.

"It's fine, it's fine" you said, stopping him. 

He stopped. "Hopefully we won't be in here to long"

The sweat was bad enough, but you were privy to the noxious fumes and odors of Iron Bulls rear.

"Less then four fucking days and here I am giving the Inquisitor the world's longest Rik'na a'Ishi"

You were picking up a few qunari words since bull joined but that one was new.

"Oh. It's just a stupid kid thing. Bullies tend to do it to weaker boys in the houses. I think the closest translation in human terms is smell, or stink face. Care to guess why?"

You didn't need to think very hard. Your nose clued you in. "I can guess Bull. I got a good nose and I don't think you bathed in a while"

A normal Rik'na a'Ishi would only be a few seconds. Have a friend kneel behind the target, push him so he falls, then rub your ass in his face. 

"What's the point?" You ask.

"Kids being kids; make sure they know you're the dominant type; sometimes just for a laugh."

"From the outside I could see it being funny," you said.

Bull chuckled

"Yeah go on you can laugh" 

"No boss, it's not that. I can feel your breath and it tickles" Bull said.

You moved your face around in the darkness. You notice that your nose has wedged itself in a hole torn in Iron Bulls pants. You traced the curve of his taught skin till it found the hair mangled valley of his cheeks. The Iron Bull was going commando. Your nose jumped over the chasm. The way he had been squatting had peeled the cheeks apart slightly; there was still miles of nutty brown flesh between you and the bullseye.

"You got a hole in your pants I think" you said.

Bull chuckled. "Yeah, that was a good Farakes" He suddenly got real quiet, as if he let some secret slip.

"What's a Farakas?"

'It's nothing boss."

"Is it like a party?"

"No. Some things are best keep secret boss"

"Well now I really want to know. Tell me what is a Farakas?" You blew out your nose. If Bull wasn't going to tell you he could expect a lot of tickling.

"I'd nothing. It's like a belch.." he trailed off muttering something under his breath.

"I didn't catch that last part; say again?"

"It's like a belch..but from your ass."

"You split a hole in your pants with a fart?"

"No, I split it with a good fart." He shifted again. "It's bad luck in the quen to say the word fart when your trapped in a cramped place; doubly so if it's the Bull who has his ass wedged in your face"

You recall your times in the barracks as a soldier, your older brothers and uncles. "Give me some credit Bull, I'm no featherweight mage."

"Oh boss, I know you're as badass as they come, but you don't know how bad the bulls ass can be. You know how Cullen keeps getting reports about a bear roaming around the camp at night but can't seem to find it?"

You had read the reports. For the past three nights just before dawn the night watchmen had been reporting low and long growling sounds. They were expecting a bear woken from hibernation, but they had yet to find any signs of the creature.

"Those are me," Bull said. "A sure sign I'm about to wake up is me letting slip with some slow growling juicy ones"

You shuddered "Maybe when we're back at base we can share a drink and I can experience this legendary beast. From a safe distance downwind that is."

You heard Bull's stomach groan. It was the cry of a tortured soul.

"If we have to stay in here much longer you may get to experience it up close. I'm gonna pinch it off as long as I can boss" Bull said.

What felt like hours passed. Guards kept coming in on routine patrols, none the wiser that two stowaways were crammed in one of their boxes. Your shoulder had begun to cramp. You needed to stretch it. With some working you managed to press it between Bull's legs.

"Woah, boss. Hello." Bull jerked as your arm ran along something long and rubbery.

You gave it a squeeze. "Feels like some sort of toy snake?"

You heard bull chirp. "Close boss. That's my toy snake"

You let go, red in the face. “Im sorry Bull I didn't mean to” “It's all good boss; I just usually like to know someone more than a few days before we get to the tug of war.”

Frantically you try and think of a way to change the topic, only to fail utterly by asking “So, what's got you so excited?” You squint so hard. You wish you could slap your own face. Of all the things to ask.

“Well I was just thinking about the last time I ripped one in someone’s face. The chargers and I were on the storm coast. We were waiting for some nobles to finish whatever shit nobles do when they are together. I was leaning on a rock just watching the waves. In and out. In and out. Really hypnotic. Guess I nearly dozed off. Snapped back to life when I let off a real tak’rethanka-- the wet roar of a dragon--. Rocky and Grim were behind me at the time. Poor grim took the brunt of the black. Rocky was ok. Nutty dwarf lost most of his sense of smell working with explosives. Grim though. That was the last day I remember Grim talking. Now he just grunts. I think I may have melted something in the guys brain, ya know boss?”

As Bull talked about the past you could feel his big rubbery snake bobbing and weaving up and down over your arm.

“That’s the kinda thing that gets you… excited… bull?” You say.

“Shiiit boss. No one really knows about that. I'm not usually with someone this long talking with them having my ass in their face. I’m into some weird shit aint I boss?” “Bull, if it's one thing I've learned about the world so far, it that there is too much crazy shit to worry about what makes people happy. If it makes you feel good I say do it.” You tell him.

“You’re alright boss. More than all right. Don't you worry though I won't let it mess with the job. And i'll make sure your plenty clear before I let rip” Bull says.

“That's gonna be kinda hard in here don't ya think. My face has been wedged in your ass for over an hour.” “I can hold it back boss”  Bulls stomach whined again, this time louder. “This is a nasty one though. It's taking all my willpower to keep the beast at bay.”

“Just get it over with and let it rip. I don't want you to explode” You tell him.

“Nah I can't do that boss. This is a real bad one.”

“I know you want to Bull.” “No, no I want nothing of the sort” He tells you.

You reach out and slap his rubbery cock. “Your ardor gives you away. Trust is important, and truth is the basis of trust. You want to do this.”

Bull cursed in qunlat. “You see right through me boss.” He shifted again, “By the way I wanted to ask. That thing you do with your sword when you draw it. Where did you learn that?” “Well it's a funny story, a few years ago” You start, but you never got to finish the story. As soon as he had distracted you, bulls cheeks let fly with a low rumbling fart. It was like staring into the mouth of a dragon. It washed over you like rain. The entire crate vibrated. Your nose was assaulted with the smell of fresh steaming shit. Bull was a consummate master of the gassy arts. He could have just let things out in one monstrous crack, but he metered it out, just enough to maintain a low droning hum. He caught you mid breath so you were forced to breath in a lung full through your nose. Your eyes watered. Suddenly you knew why Grim may have lost his ability to speak. 

The rest was silent.

You and Bull were in a sauna now. The floor was wet with buckets worth of sweat between you too. Bull just let out a sigh. 

“I tell you boss, very few things feel as good as letting it out after you’ve held it that long.” There was no answer. “Boss? Are you still alive down there?” You coughed. “...Bull” you weakly groan out. Alive, but possibly barley. “How in the the maker can you make such a thing inside you”

Bull was blushing again. “I know. I know. I'm a master. Bet you regret giving me the permission eh boss?” “Shit no Bull. Out of all the farts I’ve ever been privy to in my life, that one will go down as the most epic, the most legendary. You have my permission to let rip whenever, wherever, you want.” Bull stifled a belly laugh. “I don't think the camp guards are gonna be happy about that.” “If anyone gives you trouble, you have my permission to sit on their heads. You can even sit on mine again if you ever want” You tell him.

There was a tender silence between you. As if you were both having a conversation about something more meaningful than farting.

“Boss….” Bull said. “Feel free to say no if this is outta line but, after this mess here is over. Do you wanna fuck?”

[escapismprison]

stutter- c.b.

a.n.- hey y’all, i wrote this a little while ago and i thought i might as well post it. there’s nowhere near enough friends fics, especially for chandler so. i listened to stutter by maroon 5 while writing it so if you wanna get the vibe, listen to that. this is set around season 1 of friends bc that’s the best chandler look tbh. also i would die for mondler. enjoy ✨

the first time you opened the door to central perk you noticed two things:

one, the smell of your saviour, your messiah, your own personal jesus (although depeche mode was never really your thing). coffee.

two, a group of six twenty-somethings, making slightly too much noise, hanging around a collection of comfy-looking sofas and chairs near the centre of the café.

now fairly obnoxious groups of friends wasn’t something you weren’t used to, often being a member of said groups meant you were surrounded by them in clubs, work etc. however, this particular group caught your eye. seating yourself at the bar and sneakily inspecting them further, it’s instantly evident there are six very different personalities within the collection.

you see one girl with short-ish blonde hair (who’s conventionally attractive looks pen her to be the princess) playfully poking a cute, cheerful, mixed-raced guy who appears to be enjoying the attention. the player, you assume. next, you cast your eyes over to the worn sofa and see a woman with black bobbed hair and sharp cheekbones, sat with her hands placed carefully in her lap, listening intently to her wildly gesticulating other-blonde-friend. the mom friend and the weirdo, of course.

finally, the last pair in the bunch contains a dopey-eyed, tall guy- the brainiac- who is trying to get the attention of his floppy-haired, attractive- very attractive actually- friend; who just so happens to be glued to his spot on the chair, staring at you with wide-eyes and mouth agape.

his brain seems to catch up with the rest of him, however, as he jerks himself out of his trance, meets your inquisitive gaze, and realises his current predicament. you watch with amusement while he desperately attempts to hide his ever-worsening blush with his hands, leaning on one with his elbow on the arm of his chair, then frantically switching to sitting upright and covering his mouth with the other.

quietly conversing with his friend, he covers the side of his face with one hand, acting as a shield to protect his cheeks from the burning sensation your stare has inflicted on them. despite his concerns, the gesture is pointless as, regardless of his make-shift barricade, the racket from the remainder of the shop would prevent you from hearing his impromptu confessional anyway.

you quickly note you haven’t thought of the role this man has in his friendship group and bring your gaze down to survey his fashion choices. these, unfortunately, don’t reveal a lot to you as baggy clothes and untucked shirts are typical current fashion. a trend follower maybe? though he hasn’t quite mastered the cool and collected persona of many men you had met before. (admittedly, these men had an 100% chance of ending up being dull as dish water.) but curiously, he didn’t seem to be a ‘many men’ kind of guy.

in your reverie you hadn’t noticed the man, as discreetly as possible, (so not very), pump himself up to approach the mysterious woman who had been observing him so carefully. you panic a little as this handsome figure hastily finishes his conversation with his, presumably, wingman companion. he has also managed to achieve the support of the group surrounding him, who award him with not-so-subtle thumbs ups and pats on the back. you clock a few evaluative glances thrown your way. turning your head to avoid their inspection, you manage to fumble into your handbag and pull out your round pocket-mirror, for a rushed last-minute appearance check. the mirror being an item that has been heralded as a life-saver many times in previous desperate situations.

by the time you have closed the mirror, placed it back in your bag and zipped it up again, the man is half-way to your stool at the bar. his friends watch his movements eagerly, waiting for the outcome of his brave decision.

you scan him as he nears you and re-affirm that he is definitely very attractive. a stab of nerves materialises in your stomach.

‘hi,’ he says ‘c-chandler is, my name.’ horror washes over his features while he visibly attempts to pull himself together. his hand twitches and hurriedly runs itself through his hair. you internally scream at this gesture because, amazingly, he has managed to make himself ten times more attractive with a single action.

you were fucked.

chuckling lightly at his apprehension and as a result of your own nerves, you reply with ‘hey chandler my name is (y/n)’ in an slightly incomprehensible mumble.

you all but giggled at your equally embarrassing anxious state. the childish sound made your cheeks heat up instantly and you meet the eyes of the man standing in front of you.

he seems to have somewhat regained his confidence as he gently laughs in relief at the realisation that his target is just as unsure as himself.

‘that wasn’t a great start was it?’ he sighs.

‘maybe not,’ you respond, smiling brightly at him, ‘but it was a start at least.’

a cheeky smile adorns his face that you’re pretty sure gave you heart palpitations for the few seconds proceeding it.

after a moment of eye-contact, chandler snaps himself out of his second trance of the day.

‘mind if i sit there?’ he asks, anxiety still lingering in his words while gesturing towards the empty seat to your right. you curse yourself for forgetting basic manners.

‘yeah of course.’

pleasant silence, with a twinge of awkwardness, settles over your end of the bar. you play with your hands and don’t quite notice the fascinated look chandler has. eyes fixated on your hands as they dance around each other in uncertainty.

‘so, hey.’

you gently break the quiet and hope to restore some momentum into your encounter.

‘oh, yeah sorry, hey.’ chandler gives you a lop-sided grin and adds ‘not really on my game today.’

you laugh.

‘so, uh i was just wondering if, yknow, possibly, maybe s- sometime? going out? would be nice?’ he bites his lip and reckless-you wants to jump into his lap, wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard.

but you don’t do this, much to reckless-you’s disappointment.

instead, your eyes widen slightly, the sudden request taking you by surprise, but the warm feeling from his adorable vulnerability and openness overpowers any shock.

‘yeah, sure.’ you give a kind smile.

‘oh, i’ll give you my number.’ he briskly pats his trousers and recognises his lack of phone.

‘shit, sorry don’t have it. i’ll go check over there.’ he gets up to leave and you reach for his wrist.

‘no it’s fine’ you assure, tugging him back to his seat gently.

quickly grabbing a notepad from your bag, you scribble your number with a stray pen lurking at the bottom of the bag.

‘a lady that’s prepared huh?’

you shake your head playfully as you attempt to rip the paper in a straight-ish fashion. you’re suddenly aware you’re under scrutiny of the man in front of you and your heightened nerves cause you to tear haphazardly and make a huge mess of it. tiny scraps of paper fall from your hands as you sigh at yourself.

he chuckles and you meet his eyes. ‘god they’re right about blue eyes’ you think. as the saying goes, you found yourself drowning in them.

you jump slightly when he clears his throat and it’s your turn to feel embarrassed about being entranced. he’s wearing a smirk that you’re not sure if you should hit him or kiss him for.

‘here,’ he says, holding out his hand, palm faced-down onto the table in front.

‘you could write your number on there?’

‘yeah. good idea.’ you hold out your dominant hand and place the tip of the pen on the back of his sacrificial hand. you shakily inscribe your number and it’s a miracle you could remember it in the melt-down state you’ve found yourself in.

‘there.’ you pat your handiwork and fleetingly admire the natural art of chandler’s hands. you decide his faintly protruding veins and bones make for a particularly pretty exhibition.

‘thanks.’ he says.

‘no problem’ you reply.

sharing equally sheepish smiles, flushed cheeks and all, you look at each other. you look down at your watch and realise with regret you need to get to your job interview.

‘shit. i gotta go, job interview.’

‘oh wow. good luck, you’ll do great.’ he smiles kindly. ‘way too cute.’ you think.

he leaves his seat and you stand up next to him, putting your jacket on.

‘until next time?’ he proposes.

‘yeah of course.’ you gesture towards his hand containing your details. ‘call me.’

‘definitely.’ he grins at you and you grin back.

‘see you.’ you say, not really wanting this to end, but deciding that you’d like to have means to pay rent.

‘mhm.’ he replies, not seeming to be paying much attention, eyes casting over you as if he was trying to burn you into his memory. in a moment of uncharacteristic boldness, you get on your tip toes and kiss him gently on the cheek.

he blushes at this and gives you the biggest smile yet.

‘bye chandler.’ you squeeze his hand and make your way to the door you entered through, when you were completely unaware of the adorable guy sitting in the group of six obnoxious twenty-somethings. when walking out the door and past the windows of central perk, you don’t notice chandler sinking to the floor and clutching his heart. and you also didn’t know that this was a telltale sign that he had, literally and figuratively, fallen for you.