#seems to come after a bad panic attack for me. idk. we shall see.

[jankwritten]

.

[chanluster]

10/10 | {m} ; {c} ; {f}

oneshot | friends with benefits! au | 18.7k words

“Because what you feel for your best friend cannot be described in words, but in numbers.”

s u m m a r y > > you and bang chan had no secrets between one other. each detail of your life would be discussed with your best friend of forever, no matter how insignificant it may be, through a little system you both had concocted — through a small rating. a number out of ten. a simple concept, used from being a child and rating your cookie a solid eight out of ten to your later years in high school, giving your first kiss a measly five. however, when you confess an average rating of your sex life in one hazy evening, chan decides this dilemma cannot be solved with buying you consolation cookies. he must simply raise that rating, all by himself.

w a r n i n g s > > friends to lovers! au, college! au, music! major chan, music! major reader, you both are literally soulmates, came out the womb holding hands, so much teasing, sexual! tension! chan has a massive fucking cock (i mean isn’t it obvious already), shit loads of making out, aggression, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!!), kinda hate sex, orgasming left and right, ex! hyunjin, who’s also really bad at sex lmfaoaoao sorry king, chan is hella soft dom at the start but goes !!! hella hard later!!!! (i mean idk but) shit ton of fluff, friend! jisung which chan gets soooo jealous of, reader is so fucking annoyin, teensy weensy bit of angst, and yeh basically me venting out my love for chan once again

p l a y l i s t > > here!

a u t h o r ’ s n o t e > > this is dedicated to my dear friend chloe, boo i love u so much and thank you for that insane prompt :( also help this feels so rushed to me at the end but i hope y’all do enjoy <3

t a g l i s t > > @hanflix @thatonepieceofpineapple @kimkailover @decembermoonskz @smilesohwas @missskzbiased @illicit-roses @embroideredstarz @freckledquokka @moonluvbunny @aliceu @coupscarat @maedesculpaeusoubi @baby-wolf @multi-fandom-kpop-stan​ @minaamhh @leescrt

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“I’M SORRY, BUT I DON’T THINK I CAN DO THIS ANYMORE.”

Hyunjin’s face faltered completely at your words. It was expected, really. The poor boy was not anticipating this news.

“Wh-what?” he asked, a little too loudly, catching the stares of a few others in the coffee shop. You immediately glared at him, and he retracted back into his seat, but still had a befuddled expression on his face. 

You sighed a little. “Look,” you started, swirling your latte with a thin, wooden stirrer. “I’m going to be completely honest with you. I just think we’re much better off as friends.”

“Friends?” the boy flinched at the term, and even you had to hide your self-distaste. God, ____, at least try to be a little nicer! “Damn it, we’ve been dating for nearly three months, and you think we’d automatically become friends?!” he leaned in, knitting his eyebrows in growing desperation. “What the hell happened?”

You fought hard to not scratch the back of your neck. And possibly run away from the shop. Taking a long sip, you tried to feign the most sympathetic expression you could muster. “Hyunjin, please…”

“B-but, babe—” he started, and his eyes widened, trying to grab onto your hands which cupped the latte. “I don’t understand, we were so happy!” He huffed a smile, trying to convince you of your oh-so heavenly times spent with him. “Why are you thinking like this?”

You tried not to retract your hand from his — not only because it was hard to console him, but because they were embarrassingly sweaty. “Don’t think I have just done this on a whim. I have thought long about this decision.”

Finally, something out of your mouth which wasn’t a blatant lie. You had been thinking of breaking up with this goon — had the notion in your mind for half the time you dated him.

“____,” he said, and the melancholy you heard in his voice had you silencing your tongue. “What’s happened?” He began to caress your hand with his fingers. “Have I...have I done something wrong?”

Oh no. There it was. The reaction you dreaded.

Well, kind of. But still. Not the reaction you imagined in the perfect situation. 

Reluctantly, you put a hand over his fingers, hoping that your face was a painting of sympathy. 

“Hyunjin.”

Don’t say it, girl! Don’t you dare!

“It’s...it’s not you.”

You put your hand on your heart. 

“It’s me.”

Oh, Jesus.

Your eyes raised to his own, wide and glistening. 

Now, you knew Hwang Hyunjin was not the brightest kid on campus. The boy, who once asked you what the purpose of a spork was, may not have possessed the most intelligence, but you were scared that he may be smart enough to figure out that what you just said was complete, utter bullshit. 

Face it, ____. You’re done for.

A few tears spilled from his eyes, and a pang of guilt shot through you. “I-I see.” 

He did not let go of your hands. “We can still be...friends, right?” he sniffled, blinking at you rather irritatingly. “Like, we can still hang out together?”

You raised a brow, but reigned in a sarcastic reply. The boy would probably not even understand. “Of course,” you replied, a saccharine smile on your face. “But I think it’s best if we had some space from each other, okay?”

That was not the answer he seemed to be looking for, but he nodded, a little sadly. “Okay.” He still refused to take his hand away. “Does that mean I can’t rock up at yours midnight anymore if the junior needs a little taking care of?” 

Your brows could not help furrow in absolute exasperation. “Yes, Hyunjin,” you monotoned, unable to believe that you put up with this man for three months. “Now can you let go of my hand?” 

Realising his clammy hold on you, he flushed, looking away from your directory gaze. “I...should go, then.”

“No, no,” you insisted, getting up from your seat as you grabbed onto your drink. “I shall leave. I’m the one who dumped this news on you.” 

You debated leaving without paying for the latte — you knew the boy was still infatuated enough to cover your expenses. Sadly, shame coursed through your veins, and you cursed yourself for feeling a little sympathy for your now ex. “Here,” you offered, fishing out a little cash from your jacket. “For the drink.”

When you nearly stepped past him, you stopped, looking down at him as he tilted his head upwards. Your hand itched to put upon his shoulder, but you knew better. Hyunjin would only take that as a hopeful sign.

“I’m sorry,” was the last thing you said before you left the coffee shop.

Upon falling into a leisurely step onto the street, you let out a harsh breath, an endless amount of relief washing over you.

You were almost delighted to let Hwang Hyunjin go.

Now, it was not like he was a monster who had caged you into his two-feet-squared, dingy flat. In fact, the boy was, in almost every way, a decent boyfriend, whose stupid personality earned him a few laughs. 

Although extremely corny, the problem was not truly all him.

It was partly you as well.

Hearing your phone vibrate, you brought it out from your jeans pocket, already having an inkling on who the sender was, spamming you with messages.

CHRIS THE PISS :

bitch have you done it?

CHRIS THE PISS :

helloooooo??

CHRIS THE PISS :

hoe answer the phone i’m dying!! 

CHRIS THE PISS :

or prolly hyunjin at this moment lmaooo

You could not help the eyeroll which escaped from his words, and you decided to ignore him until you arrived at your destination. 

Which, evident from the persistent vibrations still, you figured you could not do.

CHRIS THE PISS :

i KNOW ur reading my messages DAMN just tell me!!

CHRIS THE PISS :

unless this is hyunjin and u killed her FUCK

CHRIS THE PISS :

haha dude whats poppin!! best man for ____ by far don't know why she was breaking up w u 

YOU :

chan i will kill u :)

CHRIS THE PISS :

hyunjin i promise i didn't mean it when i said u looked like a cheese string w ur new hair

CHRIS THE PISS :

that was ur girl putting words in my mouth 

YOU:

omfg chan STFUUU i’m coming

CHRIS THE PISS :

PLS HYUNJIN I SWEAR UR SEXC

Letting the man panic, you turned a left into student residence, buildings lined down the street, providing accommodation for hundreds of people like you in need of a place to sleep, eat, party, and contemplate the inevitability of death under.

Smiling at a few acquaintances, you entered the designated building, finding yourself with dozens of doors of the same, dead colour. Walking along the hallway, you stopped right at the very last one, bringing out your keys.

With a single twist you unlocked the door, but before you wrapped your hand around the knob the door swung open, catching you completely off guard.

“Funny, Hyunjin, how did you manage to transform into a little bitch so quickly?”

You cursed at the man who welcomed you.

“Damn it, Chan,” you said, hand on your chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sad it didn’t kill you off, then.”

You heard him splutter into laughter at your sad attempts to pinch his shoulder, glaring daggers into his crescent eyes. The bumbling idiot was Bang Chan, the one man you managed to keep for your entire life. That too is purely because none of you could manage a stable, healthy relationship — which was a shame, of course, when your best friend, with his fluffy, raven curls, black-oversized hoodie and sweatpants, was admired by so many. You often wondered how you had not fallen at his feet when he smiled at you, but then he’d open his mouth and all would be understood, as your anger would flare up, and rush to hit him as hard as possible. 

He gave you such a smile then, fingers gripping the doorframe. “How is Rapunzel, then? Sent him back to the tower?”

Wrenching his hand off the frame, which nearly had him falling onto the floor, you side-stepped past his stumbling figure, peeling off your jacket. “Rapunzel is never stepping in our lands again.”

After regaining his step, he muttered a cursed endearment your way and sat himself down on the couch, instantly settling his laptop upon his legs. “Oh, God. How badly did you break his heart, ____?”

Smiling, you dumped the jacket on the side table as you entered the living room, settling on the other end of his sofa. Propping your legs upon his, you pondered over the answer, and said, “At least a good seven.”

Chan let out a little whistle. “Oh, he’s definitely causing a shitshow on the groupchat tonight.” A huffed laugh was his answer. “Want Chinese or Indian tonight?”

“Surprise me,” you said as he brought out his phone. He dialled a number, and then you added, “Actually, can we please get Chinese?”

“No, we’re getting Indian.”

You raised a brow. “Didn’t you cry the last time you had their special curry?” 

The man stared at you for a minute before sighing, putting the phone to his ear. “I’d like your least spiciest dish please.”

He groaned as you pushed his legs off the couch, laughing at his pathetic tolerance towards spice. As he carried on with his order, you grabbed the TV remote, surfing through the channels. 

Even after all these years, you still found it endearing how Chan understood the depth of the numbers you tell him. The system between you two had been created during kindergarten, when, on the last day, you both had received such delicious cookies that words could not express the joy you felt when having the first bite. It was a mere joke at first, rating random classmates despicably low in middle school to even more serious situations, when you moaned to your best friend of your mundane kiss, expecting fireworks and butterflies yet were only met with an over-enthusiastic tongue. 

Chan himself used this system  — it was the reason you knew of his distaste towards spicy food, and certain girls he had dated in the past. Even now, when the two of you had started college together, working on the same projects and going to the same parties, this concoction had not been shelved in your memories. Although this may be something which others might deem insignificant, the concept had become a pillar of your friendship with this absolute loser.

The food arrived within the hour, and you both continued your box set as the plastic containers were cracked open, the pungent smell of curries and biryanis filling the room. Chan provided the plates and cutlery while you poured him the sufficient amount, and you rebuked his whining as you added the spicier dishes onto his plate.

“I refuse to let you eat only korma, Crispy,” you scolded. “Prick, careful! Don’t spill it on your laptop!”

“Bitch!” he yelped as a bit of the residue nearly stained his sweats, but was saved by his hands. “Just ruin everything I wear, why don’t you? Now I got curry on my fingers!”

You propped your legs over his again, eyes upon the screen once more, and the action occurring. “Just lick it off?”

“How about you do it for me?” the boy then simpered out, and you nearly tossed your entire dish on his head. 

“Let’s just focus on Tommy and his cocaine problem,” you dismissed him, but returned his impish smile as you elbowed him, nearly causing his food to stain his hoodie.

The two of you seemed to settle down after a bit and watched the show, commenting on the terrible choices the characters were making, and then boasted of how you and him could easily be the better leader from the protagonist. Soon, you had finished your takeout, and after Chan followed, he got up, hurrying into the kitchen situated behind the doorway in the lounge. He then came back, you delighted to find his hands occupied with two tubs of Ben & Jerrys’.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme!” you sang, snatching one of the tubs from him and pulling open the cover, digging straight in. “I didn’t know you brought ice cream!”

“Thought it’d help with the breakup,” he confessed, settling back into the sofa, shuffling closer to you. “But it doesn’t look like you need it.”

“Oh, I can’t believe Hyunjin broke my heart like this!”

Chan shook his head at your melodrama. “You may fool the looney princess, but you’re not fooling me.”

“You know me too well,” you said, which he agreed to with an absent-minded hum, eating his dessert.

There was a short pause, a comfortable silence reigning upon you both for a little before your best friend broke it, gulping down his ice cream.

“____?” 

“No, you’re not having any of mine.”

Chan prodded you lightly with his foot. “No, I don’t mean that. I was just wondering something.”

“Shoot.”

“You’re not...upset, right?” He took a bite of his ice cream. “Like, I know you always complained about him, but breakups can be difficult.”

You looked at him, and saw genuine concern painted on his face — along with a little vanilla stain on the corner of his lips. “You don’t have to pretend to be happy if you’re not, okay?” he continued. “Especially with me.”

Your heart melted slightly. “Of course, Chan, don’t worry. I wouldn’t ever lie to you.” 

Turning to the TV screen, you sighed as you thought of your recent relationship. “There were good moments for sure. He was still a sweet guy, you know?” You then stabbed the creamy plains inside the tub. “It was just so...dull.”

The man beside you took in another bite, if a bit slow. “What do you mean?”

Following him, you relished the chocolate goodness, swallowing. “Dates were kind of boring. I carried most of the conversations because he’s too thick to talk about anything.”

Chan let out a soft snort. “I remember you telling me about it. I can certainly believe it.”

“Well, you won’t believe what I’m about to tell you next.” You focused on your ice cream, a sarcastic smile plastered upon your face. “Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin was terrible at sex.”

You did not need to see your best friend to sense his shock. “What?”

A small chuckle escaped you. “First time he fucked me, I think I cried. Not because it was so good, no, but because it was so bad.”

“No way,” Chan said, brows furrowed. “Didn’t you say he had a big dick or something?”

“That’s the downside, bud,” you countered, halfway through your tub. “Because he had a massive cock he thought that was enough for me to enjoy. But it’s not. He just did not know what to do with it!” 

The man had been silenced. He took another bite of his ice cream, in disbelief. “So you were...deprived of pleasure?”

“Deprived?” You scoffed. “Chan, I thirsted for a crumb of pleasure. God, can you believe I’ve faked nearly all my orgasms with him?”

This time, your friend glanced at you in horror. Carrying on, you said, “The only real orgasm I had was not even because of him. God, I was thinking about Lee Donghyuck singing between my legs.”

A soft growl entered your ears. “Oh Christ.”

“Bastard was so proud when I came all over him,” you crowed, trying to sweeten your bitterness with the dessert. “If only I told him I undid myself for an idol I’m never going to meet.”

Your friend did not say anything. The episode finished, and when you noticed his further silence, you used it to your advantage, starting a romantic comedy before he could even complain.

Even with the movie on for about twenty minutes, and the romance you thoroughly enjoyed, the man stayed quiet, idly stirring his melted ice cream in the tub. You ignored his rather odd behaviour, assuming he was either thinking of his assignment or had gotten a brain freeze. Either way, it let you watch your movie in peace, swooning outwardly at the man’s teasing to the girl.

One hour in, and you asked if Chan was okay. “Yeah...yeah, I’m good,” was his answer, sending you a second-long smile before going back to his brain freeze. You raised a confused brow, but went back to the chick flick, gasping when the boy went back for his love.

This was it. The fireworks, the passion which exuded from the mere actions of lips enveloping lips, hands holding onto waists or necks or locks and refusing to let go. You craved for your heart to drop down in lust as you let yourself fall, be wrapped up in another as you undid yourself. Where was this? Where was this for you?

Did you not deserve your desires to be fulfilled? Did you not deserve to have your entire world turned upside down in pure exhilaration?

Before you knew it, the credits rolled, and you let out a long, laboured sigh, leaning into the cushions. “Maybe it’s time I find myself a millionaire who’d pay me to have sex with me.”

The man was still looking at the now black screen. “Do you mean a prostitute?”

“Well, yes, but—” you groaned. “You know what? Maybe I’m meant to stay forever displeased.”

It was after a long time your best friend spoke. “Or…” he cleared his throat. “You find yourself someone who would pleasure you.”

You turned to him. “Wowie, thank you for a perfect solution! I really wouldn’t know what I’d do without you.”

Then, you saw his eyes darken. “____.” He propped the tub upon the coffee table. “Why search for other alternatives when you have options right here?”

Confusion marred your mind, not just from his words, but his entire change of character. “Chan, what are you on about?”

“____,” he said, and his hand inched closer to yours. “ I’m saying you should have a friends with benefits.”

The silence was suddenly heard. You did not realise the sheer weight of this man’s gaze till his very stare gravitated you to him. The lights were dimmed, and all you could see from the laptop’s light was his face — his beautiful face. 

What was all this? Why was your best friend looking at you like that? Why were you being affected by his gaze?

“I…” You could barely get the words out. “I never thought about that before.”

Chan had no such problem. “Well, maybe you should. There are many who would gladly be that person for you.”

You gave him a look. “And who would they be?”

A slight cock of his head. “____, who is your best friend, in the same class as you, share the same interests and would help you out in any way whatsoever?”

The question rather befuddled you. Why couldn’t the man just say the answer already? You thought of the few viable options, tossing, turning the names. 

Then it occurred to you. Your friend’s face sparked a little in what could only have been hope.

“I know!” you exclaimed, holding onto his arm. “I should ask Jisung!”

The little sliver of hope in his eyes morphed into annoyance. “What the fuck?”

Raising your brow, you asked, “Is that not the right answer?” You listed out the evidence. “He’s basically my best friend, is in music with us, we like similar things and would be willing to help me in any situation. I think.”

When you were done, you found yourself more confused when Chan closed his eyes, shaking his head. “What?” you demanded.

“Oh my God.”

His fingers caressed yours, and you gasped to find your skin prickling at the touch. You raised your eyes to his, and found yourself lost for words.

“You dumb bitch, I should be your friends-with-benefits.”

Your mouth dropped.

Perhaps you would have said something, but then his thumb began stroking your skin, and you figured it was better to relish that instead. Thus, you looked at him, gobsmacked, not entirely sure what to say to his declaration. 

It seemed Chan was a little nervous too. “Look, I can tell you’re surprised…” he paused, a little lost for words as well. “Fuck, I guess I shouldn’t have suggested so early into the breakup, but you just…”

He pinned you with his gaze. “I couldn’t have my best friend miss out on the pleasure she deserves. And if that means giving you the pleasure myself, then I will do it.”

Bang Chan. Not just the best friend you’ve ever had, but the man who proposed benefits to this certain friendship.

“Well,” you got out, after what seemed like eternity. “Well damn.”

“We don’t have to do anything right now. Or even anytime soon.” He let go off your hands, and you did not know why the touch was missed so greatly. “Just...think about it for me, will you?”

You didn’t really have it in you to refuse. “Of course,” you said, feeling the need to touch something. Your eyes fell upon the remote, and figured you should distract yourself by watching the next episode of the series you previously watched. 

You needed a clear distraction, or else Chan would not need to wait long for his answer.

The episode began, and you watched, clamping your lips together as you felt the man shuffle closer to you, one hand sprawled on the top of the couch with his other hand idly surfing on his laptop. You rooted your eyes to the screen, finding yourself engulfed in 1920s England, trying to forget that your best friend left no space between you two.

Managing to somehow distract yourself from the lack of distance, you even began to relax, swooning softly of the gangster’s mannerisms towards his love interests, their intimate dancing in her bedroom. It was touching, and you even let yourself lean into your friend, who, too, glanced every now and then, a little smile upon his face.

Everything was fine and dandy until the characters started to kiss.

Now, there was nothing wrong with kissing. You were a hopeless romantic, and adored to see the actions of love on screen, the final breaking of barriers between two characters.

The problem was, the kissing did not seem to end there. The bigger problem was that this lust on screen made you all the more aware of your best friend beside you.

You froze, watching with no small amount of confused shock as the characters increased their desires, unbuttoning their clothes, discarding them as their lips moved against each other’s. Your eyes widened at the nudity, once never a bother but suddenly extremely embarrassing, as they collided, bare chest to bare chest.

The matters did not help at all when you sensed the increased beating of Chan’s heart, almost as loud as the instruments harmonising in the background. His searching on his laptop had ceased, as frozen as you were as his eyes refused to look away to the man and woman making love.  

It was too much. You had seen much worse scenes in your life before, but never had one made you so hot and bothered. Of course you knew why, though. Of course you knew, when the man you laid your head upon was breathing harder than you do when you walk up a flight of stairs. 

You did not waste a minute longer as you pointed the remote to the TV, and switched the screen off. Completely black, void of further lust radiating through the glass. 

A shuddered breath escaped Chan. “Well...double damn.”

You did not answer back. Only distanced yourself on the sofa, his fingers on the couch brushing against the back of your head. His touch may have been the last thing you needed then.

But that was not true. Seeing that sex scene, all glorified and affectionate, had you craving his touch. Your eyes could not bear to meet him, but his presence was suffocating enough. God, if you did not leave that couch now, you would dare to do something quite unimaginable.

Chan did not seem to move either. Your presence, too, had him nearly choking out a pained sob. Anymore time spent, and he would have another problem erecting soon.

At last, when a few minutes seemed like hours, you felt your friend stir. You were surprised to be devastated at the prospect of him leaving.

You were further shocked when, as Chan mustered all the strength in himself to get off the couch, he was stopped by your hand encircling his wrist. 

Whirling his head at your direction, his eyes widened. He was met with your own aghast ones, as your hand tugged him back to the couch.

You did not let go of his wrist as you whispered the words you never thought would have left your mouth that night.

“Let’s do it, Chan.”

His hand went limp in your hold.

For a second you thought he died under your grasp, but the way he parted his mouth went against your judgement. Perhaps you had sent his living soul flying out of his body, but you could not blame him — you did not feel at all like yourself just then.

“I wanna do it,” you murmured, refusing to let go. 

Chan’s eyes darted to the tight hold upon his wrist, and then to you once more. He opened his mouth, closing it straight after as he glanced away.

With a heavy sigh, he looked to you once more, an abundance of emotions swirling in his usually mischievous, soft eyes.

“Are you sure, ____?” He leaned a little closer, causing your heart to malfunction for a second. “You don’t have to think about it now—”

“Well, it’s all I can think about,” you cut him off, eyes never leaving him, despite the reddening of your cheeks. “And I want to do it.

“Like I said, Chan.” You shuffled a little closer, and your knees brushed against his. “I am deprived of pleasure.”

The man blinked once, twice, taking your declaration all in. He had to tell himself that this was not a dream, but a very much a fortunate reality, and that you were asking him of something he had been wanting to give you for a very long time.

There it was. Something he wasn’t quite ready to admit. You wanting your desires met by him was so much more than enough.

Dreaming still, he slithered one hand around your waist, almost like second nature as the other found refuge upon your face. His fingers were tender, softly caressing your cheeks as his eyes beheld you in a way he had never before..

This change of sight had you unable to look away from him.

“If you feel uncomfortable with all this…” he swept away a stray curl. “I will stop. That’ll be the end of it.”

You nodded, finding solace within his eyes. “I know.”

But there was no discomfort. Rather an impatient welcome, a growing urge for your needs met. Promises fulfilled. 

When you sensed him lean closer, so shy and yet so determined, hands still holding you, those vows were sure to be carried out.

You found out in the best way possible — the second when Chan brushed his lips against yours. 

His touch had you flying out your skin; well, not really, but it sure felt as such, when his mouth moulded with yours, a confirmation that he was strangely perfect for your own two lips, that he was meant to embed himself upon your mouth. 

You closed your eyes, heart climbing up your chest as your hands skimmed around his neck. Chan began his movements, and you were so unaccustomed to the actions that you could not help but be led by his kiss. The man had a way of making you listen to his every order, vocalised or not. 

The kiss was so...unreal. It was all that rang in your mind, over and over as the man took his time; he carried out a sensual rhythm upon your lips, not only to avoid overwhelming you, but to fully take in his situation — that he was kissing you, and no other girl who he had never dreamed of. 

He had all the time in the world for this.

The hand upon your waist gripped onto you a little harder, nails skirting around the hem of your shirt. His tongue teased you now, running along for entrance, to delve inside and drink in your every essence. Your mouth practically begged the man to prowl inside, opening up to him completely, a signal of full trust. 

You wanted this as much as he did. 

His elated rush was expressed through his tongue, when it slithered inside your mouth. Butterflies erupted in your body at the way he swirled it along with yours, almost playing with your tongue as if you both did. Of course, this is slightly different, because your gimmicks with Chan never had you salivating at the mouth. Nor feeling like you’re about to leak into your clothes from his touches.

Which really was the situation you ended up in; Chan, his hand now skimming under your shirt, revelling the skin of your abdomen, warming beneath his touch. The hand, once upon your face, had latched upon your locks, while you ran your fingers through his own velvety hair, nearly undoing yourself over the soft feel. 

Just when you thought he was going in for more, he broke away, hands still upon you — your breathing was ragged, the man in front of you panting slightly as well. His eyes, with no small amount of surprise, seemed a little feverish, whether that be from a random cold he contracted during the minutes he kissed you, or…

Or, as you found yourself biting your lip, he took an intoxicated toll over you, and how exquisite it was to drive his tongue in your mouth.

“Better than Rapunzel?” He whispered, so close his breath fanned your lips, spit-slick thanks to him. 

You made sure he was aware of your fingers threading in his locks, eliciting a low murmur. “Rapunzel better not leave the tower again.”

Chuckling, he wasted no time before he was upon you again, an invisible leash on him threatening to snap. He drove the shirt higher, skirting up your sides until he broke away from you for a mere second before peeling the shirt off of you and tossing it beside him.

Heaving, the sight of you in a bra was making the leash all the more tight, hands never leaving your sides as he latched onto your neck. Leaving open-mouthed kisses, down and down until his lips trailed past your collarbone, you let the moans leave your mouth, heightened and quick and unexpected. Suddenly he descended on you, kneeeling on the floor with hands following suit. 

Pleasure. You were oozing with pleasure as you hurried for the hems of his black hoodie, needing to have it off and run your hands on the expanse of his chest. Chan, a little preoccupied, did not realise your demands until you whined out your request.

“Chan—!” you gasped out as his lips left your belly, fingers upon the buttons of your trousers. “Hoodie, I need it off!”

The man only continued with his task, taking the zip down. “Up,” he rushed out, gesturing with his hand.

Dazed, you replied with a confused murmur, only understanding the need to take his stupid hoodie off.

He looked up from his endeavours, and the sight of him hovering between your legs nearly undid you. “I mean your hips, baby, put them up.” He grabbed onto the sides of your jeans. “I wanna take this off.”

Gulping, you raised your hips, giving Chan ease to pull your jeans, all the way down until your legs were bare, save for the soiled underwear which he instantly landed his eyes on. 

His mouth slipped out an uneasy fuck, which was just the right way to have you leaking even further. “Chan, come on,” you hurried, seething at the throbbing. 

His hands pushed you back on the couch, travelling down until they caressed the back of your knees. Pulling you closer from there, he leaned in until he was a few inches away from your moistened cunt, hurting more the longer he made you wait.

It wasn’t his fault, really. He still felt as if he’s living a dream he did not deserve. 

Fingers drumming against the back of your knees, the man blew a little upon your folds, and you let out a strained hiss at the soft breeze. This hypersensitivity was going to be your undoing, but even the smallest of actions brought you such thrill.

“I’m about to spoil you good, ____,” he whispered, and before you could reply, he descended.

The first kitty lick along the surface had you in shock.

Tendrils of pleasure gushed inside you, lurking all over your body as Chan swiped his tongue along the outside of your cunt, teasing, shying away, awaiting your reaction. You answered him with an indecipherable noise, a sound which had never escaped you before.

Maybe because no one had ever played with your cunt like this.

You truly had wasted your time with Hyunjin — this man, tasting your arousal, let out a satisfied hum, and when he dug deeper with his tongue, spreading your legs further, the moans you let escape were, for the first time, absolutely real. No acting, no bullshit.

Just like your best friend promised.

“Chan—!” You stuttered out, when he began circling your clit. “God, just like that!” You encouraged further, hips shaking at the way he made a mess of you. 

In response his hands left your legs, pressing them upon your hips. To your horror he paused his actions, peering up from your legs. 

The slick shining upon his lips could well have made you cum on his face right then and there. “I need you to stay still, baby,” he said, his hands on your hips keeping you in place, as his eyes did the same. “So I can do this properly.

“I don’t want you getting half-assed pleasure, okay?”

His soft demands, his calm explanations brought you in a further state of frenzy. You could not nod faster, chuckling emitting from him as his hands travelled down once more. 

“Good girl.”

And his mouth was upon your cunt again, this time the leash finally snapping as his tongue hardened against the seams. Your moans could have been heard in the hallways, but you didn’t particularly care when Chan, in the midst of his ravenous lapping, introduced the prospect of his fingers, caressing your dripping folds, swiping them over around the edges.

You didn’t know what to do — your hands scrambled to fist the fabric of the couch, laying back against the pillows. The hold grew tighter when your best friend slid his middle finger inside of you.

The journey may have been slow, but that was what made it all the more delightful. Feeling it go deeper and deeper had a particularly loud groan flying out of you, but the rhythm he adopted, pulling it out, but then diving it back again without leaving your cunt, had you delirious. 

A once foreign, unimaginable feeling you never thought you’d experience, was back inside — the heavy sensation deep within your gut, like a dull ache which grew more known the harder Chan worked between your legs. The feeling you had only ever experienced when you imagined Donghyuck instead of your ex-boyfriend in this similar situation. 

Fuck, there it is, you thought. The feeling of your incoming orgasm.

And it was not going to go if this man worked harder than the devil tonight.

“Chan—fuck—” you got cut off when he increased the speed of his finger inside of you. “I-I’m close.”

Never ceasing his finger, he looked up at you, hooded eyes welcoming you despite the tenderness on his face. “You’re doing so good, ____. So fucking good for me,” he cooed, melting your heart despite the situation. 

This time, he accompanied his fingering with a second digit, stretching out your walls and working harmoniously together in making you submit to him. Already you felt as if he’d filled you up, and the actions of his digits practically scissoring inside of you had every muscle in your body readying for release.

He dove back in, merciless to your clit, and all this work, everything at once, was so much that when you cried out, your release had to follow through. You couldn’t control yourself as you let your cum escape, staining the couch and the floor — most importantly, how most of it landed in Chan’s mouth. 

Breathing unevenly, and louder than you ever thought possible, you closed your eyes, slumping further into the couch. You sensed an emptiness inside you, and figured Chan had taken out his fingers. Opening your eyes, you saw him close your legs together, propping his head upon your lap, hands supporting his chin. He looked up at you, licking his lips free of your residue.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

The man smiled at you. “Satisfied?” he asked, fingers caressing your skin. 

Oh, of course you were. Damn it, you were more than satisfied — you were positively elated. If he had managed to make you cum with his fingers and tongue alone, imagine what he could have done with his dick.

You blinked. 

Imagine what he could have done with his dick.

“____?”

Perking up, you looked to the man kneeling before you still, anticipation brimming in his stature. “Please tell me you didn’t fake it.”

Embarrassment engulfed your body at the idea. “Chan, if you really think I faked all of that then I deserve an Oscar.”

Pride washed over his features. “Good.”

You then watched him slowly get up, climbing over you, hands skirting up your figure till he captured your face in his hands and pressed his lips against yours. You had enough strength to kiss him back, but failed to exceed him when he began nibbling upon the swell of your lip, making you revert to stage one of your growing need all over again.

Breaking away, you glanced up at him, holding onto his hoodie. “I want...more.”

The man stilled his actions, hands going limp upon your skin. You had about three seconds of panicking as you tugged on his clothes, whispering, “Wait, Chan, it’s okay if—”

But suddenly, his hands left your face, and the panic increased with you being lifted into the air, his hold under your knees and back as he brought you close to his chest. 

His eyes upon you were a hazard to your well-being. “God, ____, you could really ruin me.”

Your flustered nature was interrupted by Chan rushing to his bedroom, kicking the door open with his feet and pressing quick kisses upon your mouth, your cheeks, all over your face as you giggled out in reaction, arms locked around him.

His room was the same as his attire, black on black on even more black, save for a few gold corners and grey instruments settled in the far end of the space. His bed, however, was vast and comfortable, a place you have slept in many a time when late night recording sessions turned into sleepovers.

Gently, he laid you down on his bed, feeling the cool sting of the night air on your cunt, making you shiver. Your bra was useless in keeping you warm, but when Chan began to take off his hoodie, shirt dragging out along with it, you suddenly began to feel a lot hotter.

Discarding the clothes, you were rewarded with the image of shirtless Chan, slightly disheveled due to his endeavours between your legs. His smile revealed a hint of arrogance as he acknowledged your blatant staring, slowly taking off his sweatpants. 

“Careful, baby, or you’ll cum right there,” he mused, noticing the way your legs shivered in ecstasy. He dumped his clothes along with the others, catching sight of his Calvins barely containing his erection.

You felt the mattress press down as he prowled to you upon the bed, the more chaos erupting in your gut the further he came closer. You could barely contain yourself when he hovered over you, lips mere inches from yours. A powerful force within you halted your very breath — you knew, though, that at this particular moment, your entire soul rested in the hands of this man, looking at you through long lashes. 

He enveloped your lips, grinding his clothed erection against your cunt, drinking in your whines, your silent pleas of replacing it with the real deal. He smirked against your mouth, opening the seams as his one hand grabbed onto yours, leading it to the waistband of your boxers. 

Your fingers fumbled to take peel down the fabric, Chan parting from your lips to take it off entirely. His cock sprang free, and you let out a god-awful, shrill-like noise at the way it stood, red and angry and so very fucking big. 

“Fuck me,” you slipped out in a breath, earning a chuckle from him. 

“I very much plan to,” he had the nerve to reply, you wanting very much to slap his shit-eating grin off of him. Or perhaps kiss it till your breath was lost. 

Embarrassed, you tried to look away, but his fingers gripped your chin, leading your eyes to his. Other hand holding onto your hip, he gently positioned himself between your legs, precum already staining your folds. Breathing stunted, your stare reflected subservience, a request to bury his dick inside you already.

He read your every plea. 

Pressing his forehead against yours, he let out a shuddered breath before beginning the final descent.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Chan slid his cock inside — your mouth parted from the transition, at the tightening sensation as he kept going, burying those inches until your eyes were as wide as saucers, unable to look away from him. You dared not move, fear of snapping more a reality in your head than some far-fetched delusion.

Dragging his stare from your slit to your face, he caressed your cheek, offering you a small smile.

“Don’t be quiet, okay?” he asked, hand on your hip like iron. 

Nodding, it was all the signal he needed.

Just as gradually, he began to slide out, and, with his words in mind, you let yourself be shameless. The rhythm of his hips, the pain-stakingly tempered movement, made you whine profusely, and when the man slithered inside once more, moaning lewdly was your only reaction. It was all your brain could think of, when his cock was the sole deity which mattered in this moment.

His pace began to fasten, though, grunting erratically as his grip on you tightened. Your cunt was taking a toll, your second orgasm of the night a great possibility as you felt it inside you, as tangible as the dick being pushed and pulled out into you. 

“F-faster!” you wailed out, and God bless Chan, for he obliged you completely, increasing his rhythm, practically abusing your slit with the way he fucked into you. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and you let them fall, for there was no hiding your emotions with this man.

Your best friend could see right through you anyway. 

Chan’s strength seemed unhuman as he thrusted his cock into you faster and faster, and you knew if he did not stop then you would cum all over for the second time. The very image had you on the edge of your sanity.

When his cock hit your g-spot you really believed yourself hitting seventh heaven of delight. White spots blurred your vision, tears now your beloved companion as they trailed down your cheeks. “I’m c-close, fuck—” you tried to voice, but were cut off when slid out once more, tip never leaving your folds. 

His hair stuck to his forehead, beads of sweat peppered on his face as he crushed you with his lips, relishing your whines. His tongue befriended yours, and the swirling of your muscles with each other had brought a new form of high bubbling within you. 

You moaned his name onto his lips, hands sliding around his neck, pulling you as close as physically possible. This was it. You could not wait any longer. You wanted your undoing, and you wanted it now, in these sheets, within his arms, within his hypnotic presence. 

It was incredibly fortunate that Bang Chan could read you like the back of his hand.  

Parting from your mouth, he kissed a sloppy trail all the way to your ear, lips grazing against the lobe. 

“Go on, then,” he purred, leaving a small kiss to your skin. “Cum for me.”

His words were all you needed before you let yourself go, crying out as release poured from the tight spaces your cunt offered, and onto the sheets below. You wheezed in a few breaths, tired gasps gripping your body.

Chan, within the second, pulled out, just in time for him to let out a pained growl as he came onto his bedsheets. Some of the fluids sullied your legs, but seemed the perfect time as he collapsed right beside you, breathing as heavily as you were. 

You and Chan were the only noise in the room — however, if one could translate emotions into sound, that would be an entirely different matter. 

At least for you. You could barely contain your elation.

An emptiness may be present inside of you, but it was now replaced with a full heart. Fuck, you could not believe you had finally been given pleasure, such unadulterated satisfaction that you wondered whether it truly occurred, or was just another fantasy — this time with Chan’s face plastered rather than your infatuation of the month.

Sensing the said-man move, you turned to your side, smiling to see his stare fixated on you. Shifting closer, he curled a stray lock from your face behind your ear. “How’re you feeling?” he asked gently, hand on your face still.

You laid your head against your arm. “I am so pissed I didn’t break up with Hyunjin sooner.”

Laughing, his fingers trailed downward, sketching onto your collarbone. “You…” he paused, biting his lip with what you saw, surprisingly, as apprehension. “You really liked it?” 

Your eyes darted to the surroundings, smirk spreading across your lips. “I mean, I am an insanely good actress...”

His shock horror had you spluttering into laughter. When he tried to turn his back to you and sulk, you held onto his arm, keeping him in place. “Oh, stop! You know I’m joking, you big oaf.”

Pouting, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “You better be,” he muttered, earning further giggles from his truly. The laughter was replaced with your yawning, which Chan instantly picked up on. “Hey, ____, you should sleep.” He began stroking your hair. “You’re really tired.”

You tried to object, but your intended groans become more deep yawns, proving his point. He passed his fingers over your eyelids, fluttering them close. “I’m not hearing anything else!”

Stinging out your tongue in what you hoped was at his direction, you grudgingly obliged. “Fine.”

You felt him sigh upon your face. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, Hyuck.” 

“Nevermind, I hope you have a terrible sleep.”

With your last round of exhausted laughter, you let yourself fall into oblivion, safe in your best friend’s arms. 

YOU WOKE UP WITH CHAN ALREADY GONE.

It was not such a huge disappointment. The man had warned you before that he had to leave early to meet up with his supervisor. In all honesty, maybe it was good he was not there, next to you in his sheets. 

Your hands gripped those very sheets, raising them right under your chin as you looked up to the ceiling, watching the dried swirls of black paint overlapping each other.

“Oh my God.”

Indeed. Here you were, in your best friend’s bed, basking in his scent, in his world. Of course, you always seemed to smell of him, considering you both never seemed to let go of each other, but last night was different.

Obviously, because Bang Chan had never rocked your shit before. 

Your legs began to tingle at the thought. Even the mere memory had you feeling a mysterious sensation all over your body, reminders of the places Chan had looked, touched, tasted. God, you did not think, did not let yourself think further or you’d be calling that man this second.

You knew you had to get up at some point — you had some recording to do today, and more assignments to hand in. You had tasks, obligations to take care of. Unfortunately, the warmth of your best friend’s bed was much too enticing for you to submit to the requests of reality, and so you let yourself lay there for moments longer, in hope you can recreate the scene in your head once more.

There was no lie about this. Bang Chan knew how to fuck you into another dimension. 

Just when you were about to dream into last night, your phone vibrated harshly against the bedside table. Curious, you stretched out your hand, grabbing the object and checking who so rudely disturbed your shameless manifesting.

CHRIS THE PISS: 

just stopped by the medical room,,, want me to get a wheelchair?

CHRIS THE PISS:

cause im sure asf u can’t walk rn 

You rolled your eyes until it hurt. Stupid prick.

YOU:

i haven’t gotten out of bed actually 

CHRIS THE PISS:

oh damn

CHRIS THE PISS:

i PARALYSED u??

CHRIS THE PISS:

why am i so powerful 

“This asshole,” you muttered. 

YOU:

STFUU COCKY MF

CHRIS THE PISS: 

It’s ok you’ll cute in a wheelchair

YOU:

?!?!?!?!!?!

CHRIS THE PISS:

but tell me 

CHRIS THE PISS:

how good was it

This had you pausing. 

CHRIS THE PISS:

outta ten

Now here was a rating you couldn’t bring yourself to confess.

All you wanted to do was give him a solid ten — the man finally offered you a better view of sex and how it can be appreciated, and the way he guided you through it was more than just adequate.

But the thing was, you and Chan hadn’t ever given each other 10/10s.

A perfect score was a rarity in your dynamic; possibly a rating never revealed before because you and Chan had promised each other never to exaggerate on this system. The only time you had ever used the solid ten was when he made you his first ever song at the tender age of nine. At the time, it was a terrible tune, with beats all over the damn place with no form of rhythm, but because he made it especially for you, you voiced your true opinion and rated him the perfect score.

Again, the situation here was different.

So, instead of the truth, you resorted to irritation. 

YOU:

2/10 :)

You waited for his text.

However, you did not receive it.

Only the shrill ringtone of your phone, snapping you further into consciousness. 

Groaning, you swiped right onto the screen, pressing the speaker button.

“Now I know you’re lying!”

Laughing, you propped the phone beside you on the bed, upon the place where Chan would have been. “You got a big ego there, hun.”

“That may be true, but my cock is bigger, so I still win.”

You were glad he was not here — the man would have sensed your embarrassment in an instant. 

It was worse because he was not lying. “Now tell me, Pinocchio,” he continued, voice interrupting as the noise of the students around him came through the receiver. “Out of ten.”

“I already messaged it to you, buddy,” you said impassively, or at least you tried. “A solid two would suffice.”

God, you could almost feel your nose growing.

Perhaps he felt it too, for he answered, with no small amount of pride, “I’m gonna pretend I fucked you so good you forgot how to think properly.”

You could not help gulping, raising the sheets over you. It wasn’t exactly hard on boning, but even so...you really thought for a second you’d lose all feeling in your legs last night.

“Shut up, Chan.”

“Shut up, Chan,” he parroted, which had you threatening to hang up. “Don’t think I’ve let you go on this subject.”

“Try me, buddy,” you jeered.

“And for Christ’s sake, stop calling me ‘buddy’,” he demanded. “Or else I’m pulling a Hyunjin.”

“A Hyunjin?”

“Yeah, a Hyunjin.” You heard the sound of horns blaring at the end of his call. “Ruining your sex life.”

That nearly made you freak. “Damn, I won’t say it again, Christopher Bang, musical name Bang Chan, nicknamed Chris the Piss—”

You heard his chuckling through the phone. “All that for my dick. I must have changed your life, ____.”

Heating up from his stupid comments, you grabbed the phone from the table. “I’ll see you in the studios, asshole.”

His smugness ran rich in his voice. “Buh-bye, baby.”

The minute the call ended, you sighed heavily, clutching the phone to your chest.

He did change your life.

Not necessarily your entire life, but certainly a huge aspect of it. A small part of you was horrified at how easily he shifted your daily balance, making you ponder over him more often, with much more intensity than before. Were you a sex maniac? Were you so deprived of being touched that one night of fun had you begging like a woman starved?

“Whatever,” you groaned, swinging your legs to the side of the bed, and upon the carpet. “Fuck Chan.”

Hopefully tonight.

FUCKING AROUND WITH CHAN MIGHT HONESTLY BE THE BEST DECISION YOU HAVE EVER MADE IN A LONG, LONG TIME.

And you weren’t the one to make good decisions. You get up an hour before the afternoons, drink Pepsi Max to compensate for your lack of water drinkage, and worst of all, you would gladly sell your body for Colin Firth, especially if he dressed himself up as Mr. Darcy at his age. Whatever setbacks you possessed, you knew that this, at least, was a step in the right direction.

Bang Chan may have been as big a loser as you were, but the man made you feel like a powerful entity. Hell, in all the state, with the way he made you act.

Never before had you become so daring — libraries, which were once your place of study, became a rendezvous for his slender fingers inside your cunt. The living room had become a breeding ground, and even your shower was stained of your promiscuity. There was no place left where you and Chan hadn’t done something scandalous, and you wondered, with no small amount of excitement, on how this new side of your friendship with him would progress. 

These thoughts accompanied you as you walked to your destination. It was not far off as you entered campus, and smiled at the few students who passed by.

Soon, you found yourself in the music department, and walked through the familiar halls, littered with posters of different artists and singers in their peak careers. A few trophies were boasted of behind a glass screen, but the surroundings all became irrelevant when you approached your designated music rooms.

Expecting Chan to be inside, headphones adorned, you did not bother knocking, strolling straight into the room. However, you stopped completely when a giant, hoodie-clothed back did not greet you.

Instead, it was a tinier hoodie-clothed back, faded yellow over the trademark black. Although not your best friend, you instantly recognised the alternative, and smiled.

“Jisung!”

The boy did not seem to hear, for he kept bobbing his head, no doubt trying out beats. 

You tiptoed slpwly until you stood right behind him. Then, in a flash, you snapped your hands upon his shoulders.

“Boo!”

A shrill, terrified yell erupted, chair being swivelled suddenly as the back hit against the controls. You took a step back out of shock too, a choked giggle escaping when you beheld the face of Han Probably-shit-his-pants-Jisung. 

“Oh my fucking God,” he rasped out, hand on his chest. He then locked eyes with you, and suddenly his quivering mouth melted into a smile of relief. “Ah, ____!”

“The one and only.” You sat down on the neighbouring chair. “Sorry if I made you shit your pants. It was fully attended.”

“Stop,” he insisted, taking off his headphones and scooting a little closer to you. “These are new jeans as well.”

“Not my fault if you’re a pussy,” you chanted, picking up the headphones, settling them upon your ears. “Can I listen?”

“Of course!” Jisung pressed a few keys on his laptop, and the music began. 

Your eyes widened in surprise to hear pleasant, almost lo-fi background before his voice flooded in, comforting you with his soft lilt and meaningful lyrics. On instinct your head bobbed along to the rhythm of the beat, smiling at the wordplay and the rising vocals.

“Jisung, this is really good!” you exclaimed. The boy waved off the compliment, but you instantly saw his face reddening. “Oh, stop it, you know that you’re one of the best out here.”

If you thought he couldn’t get more flustered, he proved you incredibly wrong. “Don’t say that,” he shrilled, propping his feet up on the chair and hugging his legs tightly. When he saw the look on your face, though, he smiled, teeth and all. “Thank you, ____. It means a lot coming from you.”

“Oh, I’m no musical genius,” you said, pressing the play button to hear his music. “Just a motherfucker who can appreciate a song of the year when she hears one.”

Jisung nearly passed out from your compliment, but you did not take it much into account as you focused all your attention on the piece. It was an undoubted fact that Han Jisung was an extremely talented dude. You already knew you could never compete with him, but he was certainly up to Chan’s level of musical expertise. With all this talent brimming around you, you made a mental note never to make more gifted friends in the future. 

Once the song ended, you took off the headphones, propping them gently upon the table. “I think you’ve inspired me to do some actual work.” 

The boy was still smiling as he reached his hand out, planting it upon your own on the table. “Well, I’m honoured to be your inspiration.” His eyes reached yours, and you were engulfed with his warmth. “The feeling is more than mutual.”

You offered him a grin, and were about to say something when the door opened.

Turning, you were welcomed by Chan’s dark figure at the studio entrance, holding two cups of coffee. Despite his black attire, you found yourself admiring a little too brazenly the bare face he never exposed in public, the beanie hiding his curls, and the tick in his jaw, which heightened further when he took in the scene.

The actions were quick — the darting of his eyes as they started on you, then travelled to your hand, engulfed with another’s. He raised them to the man guilty of the touch, and found himself staring at Jisung, beaming not only from you anymore, but at the arrival of his friend.

The joy was not returned. 

“Chan!” Jisung greeted, letting go of your hand innocently as he ushered your best friend over. 

He nodded in return, gaze back to you as he walked, a little too slowly, to the two of you. He put the two beverages upon the table next to the keyboards. “I didn’t know you were in as well,” he said. After a pause, he added, “I would have gotten another coffee.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” he assured him, even though it did not look like he needed any reassurances. 

Catching onto Chan’s attitude, you slid your coffee to the boy beside you. “I don’t want any right now. You take it.”

You took note of the pursed lips, and ignored it as Jisung widened his eyes. “No, no, it’s okay—”

“Ji, I insist,” you pestered him, driving the cup within his grasp. “You look so tired.”

He offered you a lovely smile before taking the beverage. “Thank you.”

Chan, watching this little conversation, had him clamping his lips together, possibly to not say something stupid. It was a little habit of his, thankfully in action. He slid the other cup to you. “You can have mine.”

You looked up at him. “I’m good, buddy.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Share.”

You rolled your own, taking a sip of the coffee, and thanked yourself for not being petty enough to refuse him. “Fine.” 

Jisung swivelled his chair so he faced Chan, fingers upon his laptop. “Do you wanna listen to the demo?” He grabbed the headphones, holding it out to him. “I’m nearly done with it.”

“You can send it to me later,” was his curt answer, as he took the cup from you and drank. 

You looked at him in exasperation, but the boy nodded in satisfaction, picking his bag off the floor. “That’s chill!” he said, heaving off the chair. “I got all the time, so don’t worry too much about it.”

He then turned to the two of you as he strolled to the door. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you both something.”

“Spit it out, then,” Chan jeered, which had you glaring at him. What the fuck was his problem?

Jisung did not catch on, continuing. “So, later this week, Changbin and I are throwing a party, and I was hoping you both would like to come.”

You perked up at that piece of information. “That’s something I like to hear!” Snatching the coffee cup from your friend, you purposefully took a huge gulp. “Any specific date?”

“I was hoping Friday night.” A small sip of his drink. “We just wanted to have some fun after a difficult week, dissertations and all.” His gaze never faltered from yours. “You in?”

Chan, noticing, settled in the space previously taken, and raised a hand in objection. “Sorry, Ji. ____ and I always do something Friday night. Gotta uphold the tradition.” 

You turned to face him, a brow raised. He wasn’t wrong, in all honesty. But why did he mention it now?

Jisung, too, was a little curious. “Oh?” He fixed the strap of his bag. “I won’t get in the way, then.”

He turned, and you made to open your mouth only to have Chan press a finger to your lips. His brows were furrowed, which you matched until he left the finger as the boy looked back once more. 

“I’ll see you around, guys!” he exclaimed, eyes sliding to you before opening the door, and leaving the studio.

After a few seconds of silence, you faced your friend, who had the audacity to sigh in relief. “What the fuck was that?”

The man shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do!” you finished the last of the coffee, throwing the empty cup in the bin nearby. “Why were you being such a dick to Jisung?”

“No I wasn’t,” he only said. “I was being the perfect gentleman.”

“Stop it, man!” You couldn’t believe his stupidity in the situation. “He was being so lovely, asking for your opinion on his music, inviting us to his party and shit. Why were you being so mean?” 

Chan only shook his head, turning away from you as he made to put his headphones on. You, on the other hand, were not going to be satisfied with silence, and grabbed his arm, wrenching him toward you. “Chan?!”

He turned to look at you, and you hitched in a breath — you had never really pondered over your friend’s angered face, nor really drank in his heightened features before. However, in this moment in time, with his eyes darkened, bare face twisted, frizzy morning curls all over the place, you had to stop yourself from the butterflies fluttering downwards. You’re supposed to be mad, not horny.

Your hand upon his arm — his tensed bicep, specifically — seemed almost feeble now. Still, you were glad it was on there, if only to feel his muscle bulge.

Chan studied you and your dazing, and made you jump when he guttered. “What?”

Instantly getting back to the situation, you cursed yourself silently for letting your desires try to take the reins. “I said,” you continued, trying your hardest not to be fazed by his eyes, “Why are you being such a massive prick to Ji?”

He cocked his head slightly, and if he leaned any further his lips would brush against yours. “I’m being a massive prick, ____, because he really fucking likes you.”

You felt hands upon your waist, tugging you off your seat. With a yelp you found yourself upon the man’s lap, hands encircling you fully.

Even though you looked down at him, his stare had you shaking. “And that really fucking pisses me off.”

You couldn’t suppress a shudder, an action which had not gone unnoticed. A smile ghosting his face, he craned his neck upwards, catching your lips and rendering you completely at his mercy. Your fingers went straight in his morning curls, carding through the locks as he captured your bottom lip in his, sucking on it to the point a whine escaped you, helpless and shameful. 

He left a trail of heated kisses down your throat, fingers skirting underneath your cardigan, your shirt, and savouring the skin. His mouth landed on a particular part, grazing his teeth against it as he softly nipped at the skin. Your breath quivered at each flushed kiss he branded upon you, but when his free hand began undoing the top buttons of your shirt, you finally called out his name.

“Chan!” you gasped out, shivering at the lovebites stinging your throat. It did not seem like the man would stop, unbuttoning your shirt just so he could glimpse the sliver of your lacy bra, humming with satisfaction. “Chan, w-wait!”

He paused his actions, tilting his head upwards in irritation. “Do you mind?” he asked, pouting too cutely for his words.

“Yes, I do,” you answered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Why are you so mad, buddy?”

A harsh scoff was your reply. “Well, first of all, because you never stop calling me that.” 

You pinched the back of his neck, but when he pursed his lips, you leaned in, pressing your forehead against his. “Chan, you’re overreacting. He’s just a motherfucker trying to gain your approval.”

“I think it’s more your approval,” he countered, nuzzling his head against your shoulder. “With the way the asshole can’t keep his name out of your mouth. God! And the way he held your hand? Like you were his one and only?!”

“Jealousy isn’t a cute look on you, hun,” you mused, but in reality, you were lying through your teeth. His jealousy was like fuel to your turned on fire.

“Permission to punch him in the face?” 

“You might have to put a hold to that.” 

“Fuck.”

Raising his head, his agitation grew in his eyes as you beheld him. “He just...goddammit, he just makes me so angry at times.”

You played with his curls. “How angry?”

He held onto you tighter. “9/10.”

That certainly made you do a double take. 

9/10. A rare rating, you noticed with quite some surprise. It did reflect the fury which Jisung unintentionally ignited, but you did not realise how much it truly affected him. The two had always been friends, as far as you were concerned, but you had to admit that Chan never really felt as easy with him as he did with you.

Of course, because you were his closest friend.

“I know,” he said then, snapping you out of your thoughts. “It’s...unreasonable...but I don’t care. I really don’t give a shit.”

Clamping your lips together, you watched him look away, swaying you back and forth upon his lap. Well, you couldn’t have a dear friend sulking away when you knew Jisung meant nothing and less to you.

Suddenly, a very pleasing idea came to mind. 

“Chan,” you murmured, fingernails grazing against his neck.

 Sensing goosebumps form there, you were met with his undecipherable gaze. “Yeah?”

You brushed a chaste kiss to his forehead. “How about,” you began, trailing down to his nose, “I help…” you carried on, another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Soothe your irritation?”

Although completely compliant to your touches, he grumbled, “The only way you can do that if you consent to me giving Jisung a broken nose.”

“Hmmm…well...” you peppered another kiss, and felt his hands wander lazily once again. “This is a very close second.”

Catching the implications dwelling in your gaze, you could have sworn the man’s breathing halted. His tongue swept along his teeth, and you had a dire wish to replicate that action with your own tongue.

“Come here, then,” he guttered.

The lower octave had you nearly squealing as you pressed your lips fully onto his, giggling when he responded with twice more ardency, the desperation lurking beneath his physique. He pried your mouth open with his tongue, swirling it along with yours as he pressed your body completely against his, refusing to let you go. 

On instinct you grinded against him, sensing the outline of his boner beneath you with no small amount of excitement. He groaned into your mouth at the friction, digging his fingers into your skin.

It was a dire shame you had to break away from the kiss, catching his disappointment. “Tease,” you heard him mumble, which had you pecking his lips quickly before sliding your own down his neck, leaving his skin altogether.

Slumping downward, you kneeled before Chan as he spread his legs before you, struggling down his black trousers till he revealed the angry outline of his erection underneath his dark boxers. You noticed, with pride, how the top of the fabric was stained with arousal. 

“I think your dick is angrier than you around Jisung right now,” you said, failing to contain your amusement. 

Chan’s eyes promised murder. “I’m so glad my cock will shut your stupid mouth up,” he jeered. 

Thank God you were kneeling, cause that comment alone would have made you fall.

Shuffling closer, you raised your hand to his boxers, feeling his clothed length between your fingers. The touch had your friend growling much too loud, a reaction you enjoyed thoroughly. 

“How about a little less teasing,” he seethed, gripping onto the arms of his chair, “And a little more sucking, baby?” 

Baby. You didn’t know why now, of all times, it struck a deep chord within you. His command had you reaching for the waistband, pulling his boxers down until his cock sprang free. 

The image had you remembering your Lord and Saviour. 

You don’t know why you kept forgetting how insanely big Chan’s cock really was. Its length was inside of you on almost a daily basis, so maybe all this foolery had finally gotten to your head. Observing it now, hard and veiny as it curved against his stomach, the only reaction you could offer was your mouth breaking its seams. 

“Staring at it won’t be enough, ____.”

Gulping, you planted one hand upon his leg, the other wrapping around the shaft. Even the slightest contact had the man hissing, making you smirk at his helplessness. Slightly gurgling, you spat on the head, lubing his member with your fingers, and then you began.

A string of groans escaped him as you commenced, a slow rhythm of pumping his cock as your hand moved up and down. The repetition was constant, neverending as Chan’s grip on his chair threatened to snap the plastic, but you dared not slow down. You knew this was not how he gained his satisfaction — he needed a perfect graduality, a refined art-like stroke or else he’d lose his high. Fortunate for him, though, you never let him down.

You increased your pumping, sensing him containing his moans. You could feel him holding back, but that didn’t stop you at all. In fact, that only had you progressing to the next step, an action that would have him screaming your name.

Shifting even closer, you spread his legs further, Chan’s eyes rooted to you as you directed the tip to your mouth. Letting your tongue free, you swept it along the shaft, and sure enough, an obscenely loud moan emitted from his truly. Chuckling, you carried on, trailing all the way up to the head and ending your journey with an ironically chaste kiss. Staring up at him, you smugly observed his lust-struck face, mouth releasing irregular breaths already. You couldn’t wait to have him curse at you.

Eyes back on the task at hand, you grabbed the base of his cock, opening your mouth. Slowly, aggravatingly slow, you sunk down, taking in inch by inch — Chan pushed his hips forward, and you nearly gagged at the impact of his head hitting the back of your throat. 

“Shi-shit baby,” he sputtered, watching you in awe at your work. “You better tell me if you don’t want your throat fucked.”

You answered him with your progression, slowly releasing his cock from your lips, tongue licking his slit before descending back on him again. You tried to be slow — you didn’t want to go straight to deepthroating, but the way Chan choked out his curses was sweet encouragement. Holding his dick still, you began bobbing your head and down, shallow at first, testing the waters.

When the man instinctively began bucking his hips, pushing his cock into your mouth further, you opened your jaw wider, taking in the remaining inches. The gag reflex kicked in like a bitch, but you refused to cease your labour as you increased your pace. Chan leaned in a little, caressing your cheeks as he rutted against your mouth.

“God, you’re fucking perfect, baby,” he cooed breathlessly. “So good for taking my cock like that.”

Unable to smile, you answered him with your hands, now playing with his balls, slapping them slightly to make him groan out in pleasure, head laid back against the chair. “I’m close, ____,” he warned, never stopping his own thrusts. You hoped he never would, when his end was so near.

Taking all of him in, you pressed your hands on his legs, urging you to look at him. With one final home run, you hollowed in your cheeks, surrounding his entire cock in your mouth as you imprisoned him with your hooded gaze.

The image of you, a beautiful ruination, was his undoing. 

Chan let out a vicious string of curses as he released, ropes of cum spilling inside your mouth. He slumped into the chair, breathing in the entire county’s worth of oxygen as all energy left him. This time, to add to his lust-driven shock, you swallowed his release, thanking your lucky stars that your friend finally listened and ate some fruit. His cum, at last, tasted more than bearable. 

After a few silent moments, the man finally raised himself from the dead, sighing as he beheld you kneeling still. “I think I can’t live without you.”

Chuckling, you heaved yourself up, legs unsteady. “That’s just your inner horny speaking,” you said, nearly falling over on your own feet. Quickly, Chan brought you back onto his lap again, creating an iron grip around you.

“Think what you like,” he began, peppering small kisses on your neck. “But your head game is stronger than my will to punch Jisung, that’s for sure.”

You hummed as he plunged his teeth upon a certain spot, pressing your legs together. “It better be.”

Finding your lips, he lazily kissed you, hands skirting higher as you move your mouth against his, never tired from his touches. 

“Have we christened the studio yet?” The man asked in between kisses, pushing his chair forward till your back hit the table. 

You shook your head no, already sensing his unbearable grin. You could not help returning his enthusiasm.

And as you both continued in your shameless arrangements, there was one thought that lingered in your head. 

There was absolutely no way you were going to that party. 

OF COURSE YOU WERE GOING TO THAT PARTY.

You looked to the building, the whole ground floor alight with different, ever-changing lights, and a dim pandemonium welcoming your ears. Your phone pinged with messages, but you dutifully ignored them, taking a deep breath as you took a step inside.

Greeted with a half-full hallway, it was not hard to find the party house, greeting awkwardly to a few drunk acquaintances before entering Jisung’s dorm. You were instantly hit by the smell of sweat and alcohol as the noise of popular music made your ears ring in discomfort. An abundance of students were cramped as they danced along to the tunes, screaming and laughing and simply enjoying themselves. 

While observing the scene, a small part of you wished your best friend was with you, an arm slung around you as he makes a comment on the specific people dancing rather terribly in the centre. You could already imagine him in his Friday attire, midnight-kissed with gold chains dangling off his belt, rings adorning his fingers and a little makeup to elevate his already exquisite features. Maybe, if you had insisted, he would have let you paint his nails, something which you adored on him. 

Fuck, you thought, searching through the crowd for a place to get a drink. Maybe you shouldn’t have come. 

You shook your head, though, beginning to squeeze through the partygoers. No. You can’t let Chan win in this.

And so you found your way to the kitchen, cans of beer, vodka and tequila stacked in broken pyramids to drink away. Just as you made to grab the Smirnoff your hand brushed against another’s. You turned to the direction, and beamed to see Jisung holding out the can for you.

“____!” he exclaimed, barely heard from the commotion yet could feel his joy radiating from him. “Don’t you have a thing with Chan on Fridays?”

“Well, that can happen every Friday, Ji, but your party was only today,” you answered him, and he was more than satisfied. 

He grabbed the same drink as yours, cracking it open as he looked at you, stare lingering upon your black dress. “I’m really glad you came, love.”

You blinked at the sudden endearment, but before you could say anything Changbin had interrupted the both of you, threatening to bring the roof down with his whining.

“Pleeease Ji, get me away from her!” he begged, holding onto Jisung’s arm and rocking it back and forth. “She keeps tryna drag me into the bedrooms and I can’t do it with her, bro!”

The boy adorned hints of irritancy, but he let himself be led by his friend, glazing at you. “Wait for me,” he requested.

His answer was a little wave, which he returned dutifully as he began to berate his friend for tearing him away from you. Raising your eyebrow, you turned back to the alcohol, finding some soda water and pouring it into the empty cups along with the Smirnoff. You would have drank the vodka straight from the bottle but you decided against drinking your tits off tonight. You didn’t really have a great desire for intoxication. 

You cursed at a few passersby as they bumped against you, nearly knocking the drink off your hands. Fixing your dress, you took the first sip, relishing the strong taste. The songs kept changing, the dancing getting wilder, and at this rate you knew someone was going to get handsy soon. 

Drinking away, you snapped the cup on the table beside you, waiting for Jisung to come back. 

Why did you even come here? 

You instantly soured at the thought.

Still, you could not help pondering further.

You should have stayed home. With him.

You groaned out loud.

It was ridiculous how you were unable to have any idea which didn’t centre around that prick. If he did not want to join you that was on him. 

Then were you feeling miserable?

Great. You poured yourself some more diluted vodka. Now you’re a full-time simp.

That helped you down the drink some more. At least this time, in fortunate circumstances, you were not a lightweight, and so were still completely aware of your surroundings. 

Aware enough to see a more tousled Jisung stagger toward you, giggling like a little child. 

You watched him lunge towards the tequila cans and crack one open, downing half the thing in one go. “Careful, Ji, or you’ll fall to your death!” you warned him, laughing as he exhaled with great exaggeration. 

He staggered to where you were standing, slumping against the wall and taking another can. “I’m so sorry!” he simpered, much too loudly for your sober ears. 

You raised a brow, about to ask him for what but he was already answering your question. “I made you wait so looong!” he dragged, drinking some more. “Look at you! Leaving you all alone.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly, crossing your arms, drink still in hand. “Just say I have zero friends.” 

“Hey, don’t say that!” You were taken aback by Jisung grabbing onto your arm, pulling him to you. He looked you dead in the eyes, wide and alive. “You do not have zero friends!” he declared, louder than before. “I’m your friend.”

Your poor ears hurt like a bitch, but you smiled at his words. “Yes, indeed you are,” you said in earnest. “Thank you, Jisung.”

It was then he blinked slowly, parting his lips as his fingers upon your arm began to wander. “But I wish you didn’t think like that.”

His touch did not go unnoticed at all. You looked at him, raising a brow, but that action went unnoticed. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, you’re a smart girl,” he slurred, voice still soft and innocent as his hand travelled to your shoulder. “You know exactly what I mean.” 

Freezing up, you felt the pads of his fingers caress your face. When he tilted his head, you finally saw what he had been trying to show you since the start of the year, the emotions he was too drunk to hide any longer. 

Lust. Pure lust swirling in his eyes. 

It was like a lightbulb had finally switched on in your grape-sized brain.

“Oh my God!”

Instantly, you pressed your hands to Jisung’s chest, pushing him completely off. He nearly fell flat on his ass, but grabbed the table just in time to stagger back to balance. He glanced upwards, and you saw his eyes widen.

“____?” he got out, but you raised a finger, which he was still intelligent enough to figure out to shut up.

“Ji, what the fuck?” You slapped your drink down on the table, making him jump. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, taking another can. “But it’s the truth, damn it, and I’m tired of having to pretend all the time about it!”

Fuck, you suddenly thought, realising that you needed to get out of this crammed residence. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Jisung, look—” you started, but he groaned out loud, waving off your answer.

“No, no, I know what you’re gonna say.” He then did a terrible impression of you, simpering, “Oh, Ji, I can’t go out with you because I’m soooo in love with my best friend in the whole wide world!”

You snapped your head to his direction. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me clearly!” He finished off his nth can. “Okay, maybe it isn’t a Romeo and Juliet shit going on, but I know something is going on between you two!”

A laugh huffed out of you, but the boy was not convinced. “We’re just friends. Good friends, that’s all.”

Your answer was a hysterical bout of laughter, confusing you even further. “Come on, ____. I’m stupid, but not completely braindead.”

He took a step closer to you, careful of your hands still. “I know Chan practically adores you.”

This little statement made your shit freeze. “Stop it,” you murmured.

“Why?” he demanded. “Because I’m saying something the both of you refuse to listen to?” 

“It’s none of your business,” you snapped. “Don’t get mad because I don’t wanna go out with you.”

“I’m not mad because of that.” With one last tequila can, he grabbed it, turning on his heel. “I’m mad because the both of you keep lying to yourselves.” 

Before you could counter back, the boy stumbled away from you, hollering to the crowd to leave some space on the dance floor for him. You wondered for a second how he’d handle dancing when he could barely walk properly, but then your thoughts drifted back to the more dire subject at hand.

“Fuck,” you cursed out loud this time. 

There it was. The question you should have addressed ever since you started this arrangement with Chan.

Were you really just friends? 

You knew the question to that yourself. Both you and him had transcended past that point now, and in a horrifying realisation, you didn’t mind it that much. After experiencing his touch, his whispers, you doubt that you could ever see him as a friend again. 

But...to be more?

Fuck indeed. You had a lot to think about tonight.

“But first,” you muttered, “To be out of this stupid party.” 

Quickly, after taking two Smirnoff cans, you squeezed past the million drunkards, making your way to the exit. When you were out of the residence, you breathed in the cool night air, a rarity in these sweaty dorm rooms. 

You had a small hope, as you walked down the lanes, that Chan would be there, right at the entrance as you left, but he was not there. He had a little habit of going wherever you were supposed to be if you were not home at the expected time, worried sick if you had drank or done something more stupid than usual. 

But he was not here today. Maybe going to Jisung’s party made him extremely pissed.

There was a reason he rated it 9/10.

Soon, you were at your building, entering inside and finding your door at the very end of the hallway. Fishing out the keys, you slid them into the lock, careful of the cans, hearing the click! of the unlocking.

Your hand rested upon the doorknob. Eyes staring at the lifeless colour of the door, you closed your eyes, letting out a deep breath.

Stop worrying. Chan is your best friend.

You turned the knob.

Your best friend.

Pushed the door open. Stepped inside.

Right?

“Back so soon?” 

Your body shivered at the words. Quickly walking inside the living room, you found the back of the sofa greeting you as per usual, with Chan’s head peering on top as he watched the TV. Walking further, you noticed yours and his favourite show playing on the screen.

“Yeah, it was quite boring, but the real question is,” you began, irritation marring your features, “Why are you watching this without me?” 

He didn’t even glance back at you, nor pause the TV. “Oh, I don’t know, ____, maybe because it’s Friday night, and it’s our thing to do this every time? Do tell me if I’m wrong!”

“Shut up, Chan,” you seethed, dumping the Smirnoff on the coffee tables in front of him. “This is the one time I missed this, so stop being such a baby.”

“Oh, so you tell me to shut up,” he jeered, snapping the remote on the table, making you jump slightly. “Fine, I’ll shut up. You won’t hear a word from me again.”

You took a glimpse of his face, and caught this cold fury simmering beneath his skin. Oh no. Had you going to Jisung’s party made him this angry? It was beyond nonsensical now. Bang Chan was the most reasonable man you ever befriended.

Taking in the emotions inhabiting on his face, however, proved otherwise.

I know Chan practically adores you.

The memory brought chills all over you again. 

Making your way into the kitchen, you figured to make yourself a midnight snack, hearing the crack! of a can opening behind you. Asshole, you refused to voice out loud, but opened the fridge, taking out leftovers and heating it up in the microwave.

“Anything interesting happened, then?” you heard the dry question travel to you. 

Scoffing, you turned, taking out your food. “Oh, I thought I wasn’t hearing a word from you again.”

Your best friend’s smile was anything but sweet. “Well, I figured if you weren’t going to tell me things, I had to ask you myself.”

That snatched any faux amusement you might have harboured. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“You know what the fuck that means!” he snapped, getting up from the couch, pausing the screen. “I can’t believe you’re not telling me.”

“How about a little less attitude and a little more truth, you prick,” you rebuked, putting the cartons on the kitchen counter. 

“Fine, I’ll tell you the truth that you’re too much of a pussy to say yourself!” He thundered into the kitchen, Smirnoff still in hand. 

You backed up against the counter when he caged you with his glare. “Since when did you start going out with Jisung?”

Instantly your brows furrowed. “Who the fuck told you that?” 

“Shit, I knew that bastard wanted to get in your pants,” he roared. “And you let him use you!”

“Woah, woah, buddy, slow down there!” You raised your hands in objection. “I’m not dating Jisung!”

“What?” He took a gulp of the vodka, confusion mixing with his fury. “You’re not?”

“Of course not, the fuck?! Who told you this?”

“He—” but then the cogs turned in Chan’s head, and suddenly it made sense to him. “Oh, for Christ’s sake!”

“What happened?” you asked, but he was drinking some more, cursing himself for even believing such nonsense. “Chan?”

“That son of a bitch called me before you came,” he started, swirling his drink in the can. “And I don’t know why he did, but he kept telling me to back off from you.”

You let out a low curse, but your friend was not finished. “I told him to get some sleep, cause clearly he wasn’t right in the head, but then...he said some words which literally shut me up.”

Then, you saw him hitch in an uncertain breath. “____, he bragged that he asked you out and...and you said yes.” 

His reaction had you widening your eyes, mouth parting just a little. “And, damn it, I thought that this is why she’s so nice to this little fucker, giving him my coffee, or missing Friday night for his stupid party. Hell, even suggesting him first to be her friends-with-benefits.

“Because maybe she liked Jisung all along.”

You watched in horror as he finished his drink, crumbling the can and throwing it in the bin beside you. A shuddered breath escaped you at the explanation, but you sucked it in once more when you blinked back the sheer intensity of this man’s stare. 

“So...yeah.” He ruffled his hair, breaking the stare as he looked away, face flushing with colour. “That’s why I just...yeah.”

A small part of you melted at his words, and his now embarrassment after expressing his desperate worry for you and your potential relationship.

Still, you had some problems that needed solving. “Chan, then why were you so angry at me?!”

You crossed your arms. “You didn’t even wait to hear what I had to say on the matter.”

“I don’t know, okay?!” he exclaimed, propping his hands to his sides. “I heard Jisung saying all that bullshit, and at the time I was so pissed that…”

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d go out with him, you dumbass!”

“Well, I don’t know, he’s just such a nice guy like you keep saying, and all that flowery poetry for him just went straight into my head!” 

The situation almost seemed comical now. “Oh my God, did you really think I liked him?!

“Of course” he cried out, slapping his hands on the counter top next to you, unable to let you escape. As if you even wanted to. “Of course I thought that or else I wouldn’t be shitting my pants all night!”

“Then you’re the dumbest fucking prick I’ve ever met!” you screamed, as you grabbed hold of his hoodie, pulling him closer to you. “Because I don’t like him!

“I like you!”

“Well, I like you too, you stupid bitch!” 

The confession had you both stopping, preventing the two of you going deaf from your shouting. The whole fight was completely ridiculous, but when you looked at each other, drinking in the words that just left your lips, the realisation finally dawned on you. 

I like you too.

Well, shit. There it was.

The one thing you’d been hiding ever since you decided to fool around with him. 

Maybe this was the last way you wanted to tell him, shouting out your declaration to prove his suspicions wrong. It was almost like something out of an unfunny American sitcom — this weird, comic deflation, but at least it was out in the open now.

You had finally told him of your feelings. 

A pinch of that anger brewing within his features settled a little, hands still fisted on your sides. His eyes darted on every point of your face, as if he’s trying to memorise every inch, every detail etched upon your skin. 

Although his blatant awe made you flustered, the aching inside spoke for you. “Are you going to keep staring all night or just kiss me already?” 

God, you were such a bitch.

Chan seemed to think so too. “Nevermind, I fucking hate you,” he snarled, capturing your lips with his in an instant. You smiled against his mouth as you kissed him back with the same intensity, the same need which spread like wildfire in your body.

Kissing him should have become a routine with the amount of times you did it, but every locking of your lips with his sent you in a frenzy, lust-driven emotions spiralling out of control. You welcomed his tongue inside your mouth, the strong taste of tequila and desperation enlivening your inner workings, heightening your need for him, him, and only him.

His hands had no restrictions — the pads of his fingers had their very own needs, their own desire to feel every crevice of your body, your every curve and corner till you have no secret stored in your figure which they did not know of. You welcomed their ravaging, embraced their interrogation as they tried to uncover everything you held dear. 

Once these hands found a weakness in the form of your dress altogether, they cleverly found an opening, reaching for the end of your dress lined at your thighs. His fingers hitched the hem upwards, skirting it higher until it bunched at your waist, revealing a red, silken thong, embroidered with black thread. You relished in Chan practically salivating all over the image, but his lust slapped him out of his dazing, and hurried to get it off, hands slipping it down your legs until it was discarded on the kitchen floor. 

In an instant the man thrust two fingers inside of you, stretching your walls and creating a hypnotic rhythm of removing and inserting them back again. Your moans could bring down the whole residence, but none of you cared when Chan was scissoring you with his digits on the kitchen counter, desire radiating off his stature, and a determination to completely ruin you stark on his face. 

“M-more!” You begged, knowing you could take it, and you were rewarded with a third finger, filling you up as you cried out in pleasure. His mouth quietened you, sucking on your lower lip and then taking all of you, had you delirious, but this insanity only progressed as the thrust of his fingers hit lighting speed. 

The three digits had quickened your potential release, right on the tip of your cunt if he did not stop. “I’m g-gonna—fuck—!” 

You were interrupted as Chan’s lips left yours, trailing down to your neck, collarbone, brushing his teeth between your chest as he fell to his knees. Pulling you forward, on the edge of the countertop, he spread your legs apart, cock twitching at the drenched cunt which awaited him, like a feast displayed for a starved, wild animal. 

Looking up at you, he growled, “Cum when I say so, understand?”

Your hurried nods was all he needed as he dove right in, tongue sliding up your slit, lapping up your arousal as if it was an eternal cure. He fastened his stroke as he welcomed in his sight your clit, swiping his tongue along the bud. 

You moaned out his name like a cry for help, and he answered at first ring when his fingers still laboured, faster and faster, along with his heavenly tongue licking your clit like ice cream on a summer's day. 

“Chan, please—!” You choked out, one hand carding through the man’s hair, driving his face deeper into your cunt. “Please, I need to cum!”

Completely ignoring you, he carried on his ravishing, making you shake your legs to a point your body was beyond your control — you were at his mercy when his head was between your legs, when he prodded at your core as if it was no one else’s but his. 

When Chan brushed against your g-spot, it took every muscle in your body not to cum on his face then and there. He was being cruel; this was punishment for going to that party, justice for choosing Jisung’s company over his.

You did not know punishment felt so pain-stakingly amazing. 

Calling out his name for the last time, you knew that if the man carried on, you would go against his wishes and free yourself of the burden pushing down on your gut. Gripping onto his hair hard enough to rip right off, Chan spared a single glance at you from above, licking his lips off your mess.

“Cum for me, baby.”

That was the first time you came that night. Shaking as you freed your juices unto him, he gladly accepting the release. It was like you possessed a vessel of your release, the way you kept it inside for so long. He could never refuse though, when he knew he was responsible for driving you down that road of vulnerability. 

However, even with all of that, you still wanted more. 

And as Chan ascended on his feet, yanking his fingers out of you, he saw it in your eyes. The uncontainable passion. The unadulterated desire. 

All for him. All. For him.

Your best friend’s smile was positively wicked.

“I will completely ruin you, ____.”

He was upon you like a beast, no mercy upon your lips as he bruised them with his teeth, your pleas drowned out by his mouth as he lifted you in his arms. His kisses never ceased as he led you in his bedroom, nearly ripping the hinges at the sheer intensity of slamming his door shut. 

Throwing you on the bed, your breath whooshed out of you at the free fall, heart running miles as you witnessed Chan take his shirt off, his entire chest glistening with sweat, no doubt from the work he put in mere minutes ago. 

Upon you in seconds, his mouth robbed you of any more oxygen, prying it open as he attempted to unzip your dress from the back. Then, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, he tried to loosen the zipping, but the damned thing got stuck in it’s trail, unable to satisfy. 

Letting out an angry growl, he damned the dress when, using his hands at the front, he ripped the fabric in half, completely down to the hem. 

“My dress!” You gasped out, watching him discard the torn fabric as if it were a minor inconvenience in his path.

You were cut off by his mouth, scorching you down to the bone. “I’ll buy you ten more, baby,” he muttered, skimming his hands down your bare sides.

You had the audacity to roll your eyes at his words. “Why do you keep forgetting you’re a college student?”

It seemed Chan did not take kindly to your comment. “Shut your fucking mouth,” he snapped, resulting in you leaking right onto his sheets. 

That kept you wilfully obedient, and rightfully so, when he unclipped your bra, tossing it to the side, and settled upon your breasts. Grinding his clothed cock upon your bare slit, he licked your right nipple, making you whimper out at him. His reply was swirling his finger on your left nipple, toying with your body as if it was his plaything. You would have had a right mind to shout at him if he didn’t bring such euphoria along with it. 

“Chan,” you whispered, gripping onto the sheets as he continued sucking your breasts. “Chan, I...I need you to fuck me already.”

He paused his assault on your bud, raising a groomed brow. “What do you say to that?” He asked, too calmly in a crazy situation like this. 

Of course, he wanted to make you beg. Considering you did not care the least for your self respect, or lack thereof, you completely obliged him, rutting your bare cunt upon his trousers. 

“Please, Chan. Please.”

Hearing the little pleases had him kissing you insane as he urged you to take his pants off. You willingly obeyed, tossing the clothing along with his Calvins, and when his cock sprung me you felt the inside of your mouth water at the sight. 

The man hovered just above you as he positioned his dick right at the entrance, poking between the folds. “Say the magic word, now, baby,” he commanded quietly, and just for the last time, you had to be the most annoying person in the world. 

“Donghyuck!”

The second that damned name slipped out of your mouth, you completely regretted it as instead of making sweet, slow love to you, Bang Chan thrusted his cock so hard into you your whole body flinched with the impact. You couldn’t suppress the whimper that escaped, tears settling in your eyes, but alas, your best friend had little sympathy for you. 

“Bitch,” he seethed, pulling out, widening your eyes only to have him slam his cock back into you, sending you into another universe entirely. 

You envied his strength — you could barely hold onto his arms while his grip on you could probably compete with the Earth’s gravity, stable and safe and inescapable. He imprisoned you in his hold as he pulled out slowly, and then drove back inside, but you wanted to be in this cage, to never leave his midnight eyes that offered something other than rage and lust and humour. You dared not wonder what it might be, but when you closed your eyes, your mind began to ponder, float amongst the stars of ideas and questions which defined your relationship.

As Chan began to fasten his pace, thrusts more erratic, you held onto his dark curls, mouth never refraining every moan and whine which he fucked out of you. There he was, the man who deemed you worthy of being pleasured, despite risking your decade old friendship to see you have the same advantages as any old person who was sexually frustrated.

But this man did not just give you any old advantages — he offered the whole world in his hands to you, knelt before you, fulfilled your every waking desire, held onto you before you could ever slip away into the chaos of your mind. Even now, with you getting lost into the galaxies of his eyes, it was solely his hands which were the anchor to reality, a reality he made better by his offer. 

Bang Chan, your very best friend. 

When he caught the tenderness radiating on your face, he could not help stealing a little for himself, moulding his lips upon yours as he pistoned you in the bed. It was perhaps this small warmth, along with his perfect rhythm of his cock that had you crying out, barely able to contain your second release.

You broke away from the kiss, and uttered his name like a prayer. “Chan,” you whimpered, not needing to say anything for him to realise that you were so very near.

He pressed his forehead against yours, unable to keep away from you. “Fine then,” he grumbled. “I’ll go easy on you.

“Cum for me, ____.”

The words weren’t fully out when you stained Chan’s bed with your release, pushing through the tiny spaces in your walls. He, too, let out an aggravated cry as he spilled into you, most mingling along with your cum upon the sheets. 

A heavy silence fell upon the both of you, both of your breathing harmonising with each other in the cold midnight. Chan toppled on the side of the bed next to you, closing his eyes as he breathed from his mouth, chest rising unevenly.

For minutes none of you said anything to each other, simply basking in each other’s peace. You felt the eyes of your best friend, and locked them with yours.

You decided to break the silence first. 

“I’m sorry for saying his name.”

Brilliant. Why would you mention that stupid idol once again? 

Chan, surprisingly, burst into laughter. You were caught completely off guard, but seeing his smile lighten up his face had you reflecting his happiness. 

“You are,” he rasped out, holding onto his stomach, “The most annoying bitch I’ve ever met.”

“Hey!” You exclaimed, smacking him on his arm, which he responded with threats of pushing you off the bed. “You wouldn’t dare!”

His hands were upon you in seconds, steering you at the edge of the mattress. He cackled at your shocked yelping, and you glared at him as he pushed you away from the edge, and into his arms. “Asshole,” you murmured, burying your face in his chest, which he gladly welcomed as he stroked your hair softly with his fingers. 

You both found solace in each other’s embrace for a little while before Chan let go of you. “Hey, I completely forgot, but...I got you something while you were out.”

Your eyes perked up at the idea of a gift, which the man tutted when he noticed. “Greedy whore,” he crowed, getting out of the bed as he strolled to his desk, grabbing a brown paper bag. His marble-cut ass was out for you to see, and you took full advantage, watching it with no small amount of admiration. 

“Enjoyed the view?” He asked innocently as he slithered right back into bed again, offering you the paper bag. Sticking your tongue out at him, you took the offer, opening it up to see what was so special inside.

Catching sight of the gift had you bursting into a smile.

“Chan!”

You whipped the goods out of the bag, hand on your mouth.

The man bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling too wide. “You like it?”

“You like it?” You parroted, already digging in. “Where did you even find these?”

“Oh, I visited my mom earlier in the day, and she got the cookies from the old shop,” he explained, taking one of the sweets for himself. “I instantly thought of you as she gave them to me, so I saved them for you.”

You widened your eyes in affection. These sweets may have been normal, bakery cookies, but they held a significance for the both of you: these cookies were what started the whole trend of you and Chan rating certain objects or situations for each other, and whenever you were on an academic break, you made sure to drag your friend back to our hometown, where you could always grab a dozen of your favourite snack.

“Thank you for these, bud,” you said, eating away the first cookie. “I think they’ve become better than an eight now.”

Chan hummed in agreement, finishing off his one too. Licking the crumbs off his fingers, he then turned to you, a question riddled all over his face. “Hey, ____?”

“Yeah?”

When he didn’t say anything, you focused your attention on him, propping your head on your elbow. You saw with slight surprise that his cheeks were reddening by the second.

“Chan?”

“It’s just…” he raised his hand, holding your own. “I’ve been thinking about…all of this.”

You raised your brows, refusing to reveal the dread rising in your gut. “Us?”

“Yeah, us,” he confirmed, stroking his thumb across your fingers. “Now, remember that you’ll always be my best friend, okay, like I don’t want you thinking that this would be the end of us or something—”

“Get to the point, buddy,” you hurried along, earning a glare from him.

Then, he licked his lips in anxiety, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Hand never leaving yours, he pinned you with a stare, making you even more nervous.

He parted his mouth. 

“____, would you like to go on a date with me?”

You blinked. 

Your delayed reaction had Chan groaning. “Fuck, nevermind, just forget I said anything!” He swiped his hand away from yours, holding his head in shame. “I should have kept my big mouth shut, your bad habits are really growing on me—”

“Yes.”

Your best friend paused. 

Turned, ever so slowly, towards you. 

“What?”

You could not contain your smile as you took his hand once more. “I’ll go on a date with you, you big oaf.”

For a second you truly believed you had killed off Chan with that declaration. Then, his face exploded into pure joy, and he tackled you in a massive hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Oh my fucking God!” he cursed, “Don’t do that to me again!”

You laughed heartily as you put him at arms’ length. “You were the one doing mental gymnastics!” 

Refusing still to let go of you, he played with your hair as he clamped on his lips. “One more thing.”

“Shoot.”

“How good was I?” He looked at you, a vulnerable expression etched onto his beautiful features. “You know...with all of this.”

You stared at him, drinking in his face, his every detail, as if you had all the time in the world. Firstly, you had a right mind to pull his leg one more time, but you feared that if you made fun of him again, he might die of a heart attack.

And you still had many more years of tormenting your best friend.

So you brought him towards you, pressing your lips onto his. He seemed very much obliged to go deeper, but you pulled away just as quickly, offering him a ghost of a smile.

“I think you were a 10/10,” you whispered. “From start till finish.”

Hearing the score, and sensing your sincerity along with it, had him in near tears. He enveloped your mouth with his, backing you against the divan as he expressed his affection within the rhythm of his lips. 

When he pulled away, still mere inches from you, he said the words he’d been meaning to say since the day he first laid eyes on you — since the day you two contacted this system, since the day he knew your rating as if he knew his own name.

“Well, baby, you’ve always been a 10/10 for me.”

[tothemeadow]

Scenario where the pillars have to deal with the reader who got hit with a demon blood art that turns them into a mouse for 24 hours? This just popped in my head idk why 😂

I deadass did the Zach Galifianakis meme laugh when I read this-

‘pipsqueak’ / Pillars x Reader

warnings: none

words: 1,294

-

Move, move, MOVE!

The tree behind you suffers from a great blast, its bark blowing off the trunk in a thousand little pieces. Thankfully, you manage to dodge the attack, rolling on your shoulder and quickly drawing yourself to a stand.

The demon before you isn’t even one of the Twelve Upper Moons, but it’s proving itself to be a real annoyance. You’re a pillar, for gods’ sake. Taking this thing down shouldn’t be a challenge. Glancing to the side, you see Mitsuri take an offensive stance. If you can continue to distract this hellish creature, she should be able to take its head off with a single strike.

This should be easy.

“You pesky brats!” the demon roars, its voice raspy, its words dripping venom. Its four arms flex in irritation. “I shall slit your throats and suck you dry!”

“You have to get us first,” you retort, blade raised in a defensive stance. “It’s too bad you keep missing us.”

There. Mitsuri’s sneaking closer!

You continue on with your taunt. “It must suck, you know, having to take on two pillars at once. I feel bad for you, I really do.”

A nasty growl erupts from the back of the demon’s throat. He shifts his weight, arms rising, but your warrior eyes know the movements all too well. The demon’s preparing another attack. “Blood Demon Art: Rodent’s Blood!” With that, he brings all four hands together in a booming clap.

You attempt to get out of the way, but a gush of wind knocks you backwards and you crash against a tree. As your vision fades to nothing, you hear Mitsuri screaming out your name in rage.

-

You awake with a start.

A searing headache tears at your skull, causes your ears to ring. How hard had you been hit? What even happened?

However, you can’t see a single thing. Wherever you are, your vision is entirely cut off by some type of fabric. Actually, now that you’re becoming more conscious, you notice that your whole body is covered by it. There’s a pleasant, flowery scent enveloping you, so you can’t complain too much, but it’s confusing you. Where is this exactly?

And are you… moving?

“Oh, gods, I’m so sorry I’m late!” Mitsuri’s voice suddenly sounds. Your ears perk up at the sound of her muffled voice. At least she’s okay! “The meeting didn’t start yet, did it?”

A grunt is Mitsuri’s only response. And, judging by the mere sound of it, you know for a fact that it belongs to Sanemi.

“You’re fine,” Shinobu says. “But have you seen (y/n)? Oyakata-sama is going to be here any moment and they haven’t shown up yet.”

Of course you’re here. Hasn’t anyone seen your body covered in the strange fabric? Opening your mouth, you announce your presence, but only a feeble squeak comes out. What the hell was that?

Again, you try to speak, but only the same small noise comes out. Okay, okay, now’s not the time to panic, you have to think about this-

Your heart nearly bursts from your chest when you feel something poking through the fabric. The squeaking coming from your throat only grows in volume and becomes frantic.

“Kaburamaru, get back here!” Obanai barks.

On the other side of the fabric barrier, there’s a sharp hiss. Did Obanai’s snake just poke you? Granted, you’re not super close to the other Pillar, but his snake is an absolute sweetheart. It’d recognize you in a heartbeat, so why the unfamiliar behavior now?

Mitsuri squeaks and your cloth prison jerks. Seriously, though. What the hell is going on?

“Looks like your snake is getting pretty friendly,” Tengen says with a snicker.

“Piss off, beefcake,” Obanai snaps.

“Hey now!” Kyojuro’s voice booms. Your entire body flinches at the volume. He’s always been loud, yes, but did somehow get even louder? “No need to fight!”

“Wait, Obanai-san, it’s okay,” Mitsuri quickly reassures.

Light suddenly fills your encasement and a giant hand comes into view. You squeak even louder, more frantically, and the hand wraps around your body with ease. You blink rapidly as your eyes adapt to the newfound light. Your ears twitch in every direction possible and you zero in on the small crowd before you.

It’s the Pillars, alright. And they’re staring at you like they have no idea who you are.

“Mitsuri! Did you get a new pet? How adorable!” Kyojuro chirps, a grin splitting his face in half.

A what now?

You glance down at (what you presume to be) Mitsuri’s finger. Tiny little feet stare back up at you. Okay, so that’s new. You swiftly turn and look over your shoulder; Mitsuri’s bright eyes make contact with yours and she flashes you a soft smile.

“Everyone,” she says, turning her attention from you, “this is (y/n).”

Silence.

That’s it.

Tengen chuckles. “You named your mouse after (y/n)? That seems a bit biased, don’t you think?”

Did that bitch just say mouse?

Please, let him say sike.

Mitsuri clears her throat. “Hehe… No. Well, um, you see, (y/n) and I were fighting a demon last night and it may or may not have turned (y/n) into a mouse.”

Sanemi, who was just about to take a drink, freezes with the cup in midair. “…You’re shitting me.”

Mitsuri hastily shakes her head. “I’m not.”

Even Giyuu seemed surprised, which really says something. “Well, fuck.”

-

“Who’s a cute little mouse? You are!” Kyojuro coos as he scratches between your ears with a finger.

After the initial shock – and that’s putting it lightly – it didn’t take much for the others to warm up to your new form. Now, you had to stay away from Obanai due to Kaburamaru trying to eat you five times, but that’s just the way of nature. And, if you’re being honest, you don’t feel like seeing the inside of a snake.

During the meeting, Mitsuri explained the entire situation. Apparently, the blast you suffered from was the reason for your turning into an adorable rodent. Shinobu meticulously took notes, completely fascinated by this blood art. Tengen couldn’t stop laughing. Oyakata-sama was probably the only one who genuinely felt bad for your situation.

Unfortunately, Mitsuri killed the demon before it could turn you back. Normally, the blood art would undo itself once the demon died, but this wasn’t entirely the case in this situation. For the next, oh, who knows, ever, you’re stuck as a mouse.

Sanemi rolls his eyes at his fellow Pillar. “Babying it isn’t going to do anything.”

Mitsuri gasps. “Don’t call (y/n) an it! They’re still a person, you know!”

“I think they’re cute,” Kyojuro says, leaning in close and snuggling you with his cheek. “Can I take them home? I think Senjuro would love to see (y/n) this way!”

You squeak happily at the mention of Kyojuro’s younger brother.

“We must protect (y/n) until they’re human again,” Gyomei says. Ah, always the voice of reason. If you could, you’d nod in agreement.

Another hand gingerly takes you away from Kyojuro. Glancing up, you see Giyuu’s dark eyes gazing back down at you. He scratches the underside of your chin with a finger. “Do you think I could take care of you?” he asks you.

Your little mouse heart almost stops at the sheer gentleness of his voice.

“Hey, no fair!” Mitsuri whines. “I was there when it happened! I should be the caretaker!”

“Ha! Fools! None of you could ever be as flamboyant with animals as me,” Tengen sneers.

Shinobu raises a hand. “I’d like to take care of them as well.”

All of them stare down at you expectantly.

Your eyes flicker from one to another, unease boiling in your tiny belly. This… isn’t going to end well.

[lizacstuff]

Anon asks: SCK Fragman 38 speculation

(Asks under the cut)

Anonymous said: Do you think they're getting married this next episode? idk if the tattoos were confirmation

I think it’s possible? But I also think it’s entirely possible that they get the tattoos as a symbol of their love and a promise of sorts that they are through messing around, but they’re not actually married yet.  Frankly, they already gave us all the wedding hoopla with these two, I’m absolutely fine with an elopement or quick courthouse style wedding, or just a couple of witnesses in a garden. Whatever they want! Let’s just get her done.

Also... I know I said it before, but I’m just in love with the idea of these tattoos. Such a great solution to their ring issue. 

Anonymous said: Thoughts on all these twitter theories from the “sick” line in the fragman?

- it’s about piril and engins kid bc basak and anil filmed in the hospital, and piril was hit by a car in 36 and in 37 she had that moment where she clutched her abdomen and had to sit down

- it’s a flashback serkan has to when his brother alp was sick

- serkan is sick and it’s a way to reveal Kemal as his bio dad (blood or organ donation)

- serkan is sick and it’s a way to reveal eda is pregnant when they draw blood from her to donate

That fragman could be hinting at so many things, and it very well could have been misleading. So lets take each theory in turn. 

“it’s about piril and engins kid bc basak and anil filmed in the hospital, and piril was hit by a car in 36 and in 37 she had that moment where she clutched her abdomen and had to sit down”

Very possible. Engin thinking something had happened to Piril two eps ago did feel like foreshadowing, almost preparing the audience for something. It would be so heartbreaking if she loses the baby, and seems too dark for this show, but it is something that happens to millions of women, so we’ll see.

Also can you imagine after the way Piril stuck by Selin, if Piril lost her baby, and she then witnesses Selin using her baby as a pawn to get revenge on Serkan and Eda?  I’d like to see Piril and Engin’s reaction to that. Though again I think that’s pretty dark, especially for the side couple. 

- it’s a flashback serkan has to when his brother alp was sick

I think this is a very good guess. Serkan probably will see a doctor after he passed out, and if it is another panic attack brought on by the stress of losing Eda, I could see a doctor telling him if he wants to move past the panic attacks, he needs to get at the root of his abandonment issues, which all lead back to his brother’s death. That could be why he’s getting out a box of his things and reading that letter.  So I could very well see a flashback happening to Alp’s diagnosis.

- serkan is sick and it’s a way to reveal Kemal as his bio dad (blood or organ donation)

I’m honestly fully onboard with Kemal as Serkan’s bio dad.  I hear a lot of people poopooing the idea because of opportunity, but I think they told us when it could have happened. In their first meeting, (unless my subs were bad) Aydan mentioned that Kemal had returned once to apologize for standing her up when they were young and going to run away together. I assume that was the window. Kemal showed up years later (after Alp was born) to apologize.. they had a fling and there’s the opportunity for Serkan to be his son. 

Though, to me, if they’re doing something with Serkan’s health it’s got to be related to the plane crash. The chest clutching since he’s been back is concerning, plus wasn’t his hand shaking at one point? So I don’t see him having some serious underlying issue that’s unrelated. This guy does not shy away from going to the doctor and was just in the hospital for probably over a month recovering, so you’d think if there was anything wrong before, we’d know it.  Unless the plane crash acerbated something that’s genetic? And/or requires a match like bone marrow or kidney. I suppose they could give Serkan some rare blood type and that would be something applicable to most any ailment. We shall see. 

- serkan is sick and it’s a way to reveal eda is pregnant when they draw blood from her to donate

This one I think is the least likely. It’s been very fuzzy how much time has passed, but at the minimum 3 months since they were supposed to get married and were having sex, so if Eda were pregnant I think she would have noticed the signs by now.  

Anonymous said: Liza, I know they won’t kill Serkan, but could you reassure me that they won’t? I’ve followed you since Once and you were always good at reassuring.

Ha! I remember making lists of all the reasons they would never kill Hook. 

THEY WON’T KILL SERKAN.

And I’m even more certain of this than I ever was of them not killing Hook, and I was damn certain then. 

There is literally not ONE reason for this show to exist without Eda and Serkan. Not one. This is their love story, and really, storyline wise, the show should have ended awhile ago, and the only reason they keep it going is to keep Hande and Kerem on screen together, making their magic. Seriously, that’s the only reason.

You see how Serkan dying would be counter to that, right?  And if the show were about to end, trust me, there is nothing in it for anyone to have a tragic ending. This started as a romantic comedy, and will end as one, with a happily ever after. And if you’re still nervous, trust this, the production company is still hopeful to sell it into even more foreign markets, especially English language ones, a surprise tragic, twist ending that gets vilified on social media (and trust me this fandom is huge, vocal and capable) would really hurt those chances. 

So even if we’re headed into a bad diagnosis for Serkan, he will be fine in the end, it will just be something for him and Eda to fight through. I promise. 

Anonymous said: thoughts on that wonderfully beautiful fragman? i was watching with hearts in my eyes and then read the translations.. poor serkan!! if it really isn't misleading i definitely think it's some consequence of the plane crash. but, we are secure in what kind of show this is and the full knowledge that it's not a drama and no one is gonna actually die, i'm excited for the potential this storyline is gonna give us!! (esp with the return of the old writers)

I can’t wait to see that rain scene, and the after-the-rain scene and their motorcycle ride. The fragman was very beautiful, but it also felt very poignant and a little melancholy.

It’s interesting with the announcement that the second writing team was back, there were tidbits from several legit entertainment-type reporters yesterday that the show was going back to it’s roots being funny and entertaining.  So a terrible diagnosis for one of the current characters, especially the romantic leading man, doesn’t really fit with that. 

It the writers hadn’t changed I’d be more concerned, not about a character dying, just about the show leaning into some big sort of health-related melodrama.  But I think whatever might be happening will be in service to the plot.  As far as Serkan having a health-scare related to the crash, as I said above it’s very plausible. I mean what are the chances that a man survives a plane crash, is fished out of the sea, spends weeks in a hospital, gets amnesia and is perfectly fine 3-4 months later with no other repercussion? Doesn’t seem possible! 

Anonymous said: Liza, the second set of writers is really coming back! We might actually get comeuppance for Selin!

YESS!!!!! Please. I had completely lost hope with the last set of writers who seemed hellbent on normalizing her behavior.  Look I’d be fine with a 3 minute conversation where Serkan tells her that he knows she’s a manipulative liar and the baby is not his, that he wants her out of their lives for good, and that if she ever comes near Eda ever again he will personally destroy her. 

Is that so much to ask?

Though I’d like her to be humiliated in front of the rest of the team. Just so everyone knows what kind of psycho she is and no one in Edser’s orbit is tempted to give her another chance ever again. 

It will be interesting to see how this plays out.  With the news that Sarp Can (Deniz) is COVID positive, he obviously won’t be back on set anytime soon. They could probably get some VO from him if necessary, for a phone convo, but I’m gonna guess he’s done on screen. 

It’s time to write both characters out! 

As for the 22-23, 25-30 writers coming back, that is the best news I’ve had in ages.  They weren’t perfect, but the things they did well, they did really, really well. Their comedy, romantic scenes, heartfelt dialogue, accurate characterizations and penchant for sizzling scenes that “break the Turkish family structure” will all be most welcome. I’m really excited for the first time in ages. 

Anonymous said: Very interesting that the fragman did not address the Selin baby drama at all. It focused solely on Edser which was a welcome change while at the same time has me a bit nervous for the angst & drama no doubt headed our way. But if Eda & Serkan are together for good now to face the challenges coming then I cannot wait to watch. The last episode was so well done but Eda & Serkan were both near their breaking points for different reasons & you just felt awful for both of them. Really glad that the engagement did not happen and the show focused on the fallout from Serkan’s amnesia. And even had the side characters addressing how difficult things have been for Eda and that she might need some time before picking things back up with Serkan! Looking forward to the resolution of the baby story/exit of Selin and seeing Eda & Serkan heal together.

I hope that the fact that nothing Selin-related was addressed in the fragman means that we finally have people in charge who understand that we are so damned fatigued of Selin that featuring her an active deterrent for viewers.  Also I haven’t seen any evidence that Bige has been on set for 38. That doesn’t mean she hasn’t, it’s still possible, but it is encouraging that the ep will be  light on Selin. 

As far as the drama and angst, I think there’s more headed our way, however I’m hopeful it will be the good kind and not the kind that made us really uncomfortable and want to tear our hair out during the Selin/Deniz era. We know that Eda and Serkan must decide to stay together (spending time together, ring finger tattoos) so the point of the pregnancy storyline is done. When Eda found out Selin was pregnant, it gave Selin the chance for one last Hail Mary pass, and she took it, trying to break them up, but it failed. So it’s usefulness is over. She can’t keep the charade going because of Deniz, and because once Serkan has time to calm down and think, he’ll realize that any time in Slovania where he was so injured that it’s possible he doesn’t remember, he also would have been too physically incapacitated to do anything of the sort. 

As for Eda needing some time, yes, things in 36 were just too easy for Serkan in terms of the fallout from his amnesic behavior. Episode 37 made him work for it and I think come to terms with the fact that, Selin manipulations or no, there’s work to do and things he needs to atone for.  Putting her first throughout the episode, and showering her with love, was a good start. 

Anonymous said: The conversations Selin had with Eda, Serkan and Aydan in this episode had my blood boiling. Someone stop this psycho! The unnecessary hole digging was real, my god. I don't care if she's pregnant, don't hold Eda back this time and let her fight this snake. Let everyone fight her! If she's lying to Deniz now, he can fight her too.

I know, she reached new levels of abusive manipulation.  They better be planning a comeuppance, if she’s just allowed to leave with people waving goodbye, I will scream.  The Aydan conversation with her posing the question about abortion was something else. It came across to me more as a threat. Like... I’m thinking about doing this, if you don’t want my decision to be your fault, you better stay on the right side of me. 

The Eda and Serkan stuff goes without saying. It still floors me that she’s willing to pretend like she raped him (if he can’t remember because he was that injured and foggy, then it’s impossible for him to have given consent.) rather than just giving up and living the truth.  

Anonymous said: Like I get it (kind of) but I am so sick of watching Serkan be nice to Selin. Very much looking forward to Serkan chewing her out for how much she hurt Eda with this fake Serkan baby daddy story when she is exposed. I get that Serkan feels he is to blame for calling her to Slovenia in the first place & essentially in his mind giving her hope of them being together but he needs to stop excusing her horrible behavior from there. No decent person would take advantage of that situation the way she did. It seems like the only way that Selin will have an epic fall is if Deniz decides to fight for the kid he knows must be his and tell Eda everything. Going to be tough for her to believe initially but it will have to start making sense once she thinks back on things and then if the photos surface then she will know it must be true.

Agreed. I get Serkan’s guilt, and it actually shows what a good person he is, but he needs to get over it.  Because seriously, all Selin was obligated to do when she got his call was to hang up, and then dial one of the following: his mother, his father, his fiancé or best friend/business partner Engin. That’s it. Call them and say, hey, Serkan’s alive, this is where you’ll find him. But NOPE! Instead she decided to fly there, manipulate him, keep him hidden and try to use it to get back with him. She made him beholden to her, just another in the long line of brainwashing and manipulation. Her flying to his bedside was the wrong thing to do, and it would be great if someone beside Eda recognized that. 

Anonymous said: Even though Selin is the worst and I just cannot wait for her to finally be unmasked as the manipulator she is, I am really looking forward to Edser in the next episode. Eda taking care of Serkan after he passes out, the two of them reaffirming their commitment to each other with the tattoos & possible elopement, Eda reassuring Serkan that she will be at his side even if the kid turns out to be his and also the two of them working together to get to the truth. So darn excited! And if the spoilers are right that Deniz tells Eda the truth and Serkan sees the photos from Ferit then I will be so happy. It is time for Selin to go for good!

SELIN MUST GO. Yes, I think as soon as the news that Selin is pregnant and trying to pass it off as Serkan’s brain-fog baby, Ferit will unleash the photos. (if it’s him that has them).  

I just want Selin and Deniz gone so we can focus on other things. Their presence on this show is a energy drain, and I want to focus on rain frolicking, motorcycles and bed sharing!!!!!  

Anonymous said: I'm so glad that we had a scene of Serkan telling Eda that even without his memories he fell in love with her again, he just couldn't admit it. Serkan has an interesting perspective on the memory loss part of their lives where I think he almost feels too guilty about it all and just wants to move past it. I've noticed that in his dialogues in 36 & 37 where he wants to leave it in the past and basically do his all to make it all up to her in the present and future.

I think this is very well observed. He definitely was trying to leave the past in the past, but honestly I think that’s just laziness on the part of the old writers, not wanting to have to have a reckoning for all the things they had him say or do. Since the writers decided to go that way, I could buy it’s because Serkan feels too guilty about it all. We know how much he loathes making mistakes or being wrong or owing apologies. If that’s what they wanted to do, it would have gone a long way if they’d shown a bit more of him blaming himself, especially in 36. 

I was also very happy that Serkan came out and said that he’s fallen in love with her again. My only thing is I wish if they were going to do that, they would have thrown a little more detail in the dialogue. Like Serkan admitting to her that he started thinking about her all the time as soon as he returned and met her, maybe admit that he slept on his office couch clutching her wedding invitation.  A couple of things like that would have been very nice for Eda to hear. 

Anonymous said: SCK sure loves creating difficult situations for Eda & Serkan. I really felt for Serkan in the last episode especially since he was back to being the romantic robot we all love. He so baldly wants to make up for lost time with Eda that he rushes ahead with the proposal and then gets crushed when she rejects him. And then spends most of the episode frantically trying to figure out what is going on with her and trying to show her how much he loves her. I was really happy though that the show addressed a few different times how awful the last few months have been for Eda and it also made Serkan address it. His plan to just forget about everything and move forward did not happen. Loved that the side characters stepped up to remind him of everything he & Selin put Eda through. Not so crazy that the show decided to use Selin’s pregnancy as the plot device to get Serkan to finally realize “oh yeah, what happened since my accident is a very big deal & now I have to face it & come to terms with it” but still glad it happened. Selin is obviously so much more in the wrong than Serkan but let’s hope her downfall takes place in the next episode.

All of this.  I think you’re exactly right, Serkan tried to brush past everything and I’m glad that finally the other characters stepped up a little to help make him see that he had more work to do. Special shout out to Seyfi for his sassy comment about Serkan almost marrying another woman. And finally Piril was useful and acted like a friend, the first time she had since he returned.  

[the-small-one-to-rule-them-all]

Dress to Impress

Summary: Who knew that crying in your room could be the start of something wonderful?

Or, Patton breaks down, Logan shows some feelings, Virgil is his usual precious self, and Roman is a fabulous b****. (that says beaut idk why it’s censored)

Pairing: logicality, prinxiety

Warnings: food mention, homophobia, mild description of a panic attack, cursing

Word count: 5043

A/N: so, this is actually the first fanfic i’ve ever published, I hope it’s okay! I got inspired by @thatoddhuman​‘s picture of Logan in a galaxy skirt while in the middle of writing some logicality hurt/comfort ... and then this happened. Enjoy!

Patton leans back against his door and he hears the latch click shut. It has been a long day, and he has felt way too many emotions in such a small amount of time that he swears if he feels one more thing he’s gonna explode. He lets his hair fall into his eyes as he trods over to his giant bed.

His bed covers an entire wall of the room and is covered in blankets and pillows and stuffed animals of every kind. Patton flops into the middle of it and pulls about seven blankets on top of himself.

He grabs his favourite stuffed animal, a two foot tall penguin named Peggy, and holds her tight.

Logan passes Patton’s door on the way to the kitchen. He is lost in thought when he hears something that pulls him back to the present. It takes him a second, but when he realises what it is, it worries him. He hears crying coming from Patton’s room, and it sounds like it’s coming from Patton and not one of the others.

If Patton was crying, that meant something bad had happened. Patton didn't like to cry but when he needs to he tends to listens to sad music with the door open or watches a sad movie to have an excuse to cry, but this. For him to close himself in his room and try to hide his tears... now that was bad, very bad.

Logan decides his midnight snack can wait. He turns to face Patton’s door and knocks. He hears Patton gasp inside.

“I'm not here.” Patton says, hoping that whoever is on the other side of the door might actually believe him

“Patton, it’s Logan. You know that wont work on me.”

Patton goes quiet, hiding further under his blankets.

“Is it okay if I come in?” Logan asks, hand already on the doorknob.

Patton does not respond.

Logan frowns, “Patton, If the door is unlocked and you don't say anything in protest, i'm coming in, okay?”

Patton pulls another blanket on top of himself, in an effort to conceal himself as he pulls his head under the mountain of blankets.

“I'm going to come in now Patton.” Logan says gently, slowly twisting the doorknob and pushing the door open.

When he sees the giant pile of blankets that Patton is undoubtedly hiding in, Logan’s heart sinks.

Logan steps in, closing the door behind him. “Patton. I know you are under all those blankets.”

Patton sighs and throws off the blanket he last grabbed, revealing his head.

“Hello there Patton.” Logan says, taking a seat in Patton’ swivel chair.

Patton gives Logan a small wave of his fingers.

Logan smiles softly,“Patton, would you mind sharing what is upsetting you? Especially to the point that you are in here at 3 am trying to hide your tears from the rest of the world.”

“Nothing is upsetting me, i'm just sad.” Patton mumbles.

“Why?”

“Because I am. It’s just a combination of a lot of small and big things that’ve been happening and I guess i'm hiding because I don't want to have to explain that there's no reason for me to feel this awful, I just do.” Patton starts crying and hides his face in the blankets.

“I'm sorry that you feel awful. Is there some way in which I can help? Do you want me to offer advice, offer a distraction, or just listen? Or multiple?” Logan asks.

Patton replies, through sniffles and tears,“Umm, actually, can you just sit with me for a bit? I... I just need to feel this right now Logan.’

“Oh, uh, okay. I suppose I can do that.” Logan says startled at the use of another option.

Despite not understanding, Logan joins Patton on the bed, sitting next to the giant pile of blankets and making himself a backrest of pillows. He grabs his designated stuffed robot from the messy pile and just sits.

Patton eventually moves so that his head is on Logan’s lap. Patton knows Logan doesn't really like physical contact, like hugs or really cuddling, but they’ve found that this is the best arrangement for physical contact between them.

Logan absentmindedly starts running his fingers through Patton’s hair, making him gasp a bit.

“Oh, sorry Patton. I didn't mean to upset you. I just find it rather comforting when you do that for me so I thought-”

“Logan, no, it’s fine. I was just surprised.”

“Like a good surprise?”

“Yes, it was a good surprise, Logan.”

“That is... satisfactory.” Logan admits allowing himself to smile.

Patton pats Logan’s knee in acknowledgement a sad smile on his face.

After a bit Logan realizes Patton has fallen asleep on his lap. He smiles down at the emotional side and gently shifts him off of his lap and into a comfortable position.

Logan lays down, removing his glasses and placing them on the nightstand next to Patton’s glasses. He was much too tired to go to his room, and he always seemed to sleep better here anyways.

When Logan woke up the next morning, Patton was already awake, but he hadn't moved from his place on the bed. Normally Patton would get up and make breakfast, but obviously that didn't happen.

“Good morning Patton. Did you sleep well?” Logan asks with a yawn.

Patton shrugs, “I didn't have any bad dreams or wake up in the middle of the night so , yeah, I guess so.”

“You are not feeling well this morning?”

“No Logan, i'm not. I don't feel much better than I did last night.” Patton admits.

“Is there something I can do to help?” Logan asks, concern wrinkling his brow.

Patton loses himself in thought, thinking, wondering, what could possibly make this better. In his franticness he starts to tear up, wondering if it could get better. “I.. I don't know Logan” he admits voice breaking, “I don't know.”

Logan is startled to say the least, “Patton, are you... er, umm, may I give you a hug?”

Patton nods and Logan reaches out, pulling Patton into his lap and holding him there in his arms.

“Is this helping?” Logan asks softly.

“Mmmhmm” Patton hums between gasping breaths and tears.

Logan feels a tightness in his chest at the sound of his friend crying and he holds Patton even tighter, even closer.

Logan starts taking deep steadying breaths, “Patton. I'm here. It’s okay. Can you take breaths with me?”

They breathe in, and out. In and out. In and out.

Slowly the mush in Patton’s mind starts to fade, and he is tired, despite having just woken up.

“Are you doing better now, Patton?” Logan asks when Patton relaxes in his arms.

“Still sad, but not panicked about it anymore so... I guess.” Patton says with a shrug.

“Would you want to talk about it? I have heard that talking about one’s feelings is a good way to help.” Logan says, hoping he’ll oblige.

“I mean, it probably would help, but I really don't want to.” Patton admits.

“And why is that?”

“I... i'm scared of spiralling again.” Patton mutters.

“But I am here, and if you begin to spiral, I can help.” Logan says, hoping it’s enough.

“I just,” Patton sighs, “Talking about it makes me feel bad, and I already feel bad, and I don’t want to feel worse.”

“Is there something else you would like me to do? Shall I distract you?” Logan asks, just wanting Patton to feel a little better.

“Thanks for the offer, but i’d rather just cuddle.”

“Okay, but we do need to go get breakfast at some point, okay?”

Patton nods.

“Tell me when you are ready to go eat.” Logan reminds him.

Patton shrugs, “I guess, i'm ready to go now. I've been awake for a few hours, i'm hungry.”

“I did not think you would want to go downstairs while upset, though I will certainly go with you if that is what you want.”

Patton wipes his eyes, “No, wait i'm not upset, see? I'm happy pappy Patton, i'm not sad, i'm never sad.”

“Falsehood.” Logan mutters, sad and slightly annoyed.

“Uh, i'm sad but it doesn't matter.” Patton says, sounding much less chipper.

“Falsehood. Try again.” Logan directs.

Paton sighs, “I'm sad, but I don't want the others to know so i'm hiding it from them while we get food.”

Logan frowns, his expression soft, “While that is true, it is unacceptable.”

“Logaaaaaan.” Patton whines.

“Try again.” Logan says calmly.

Patton huffs, “Okay, I’m sad, but-”

Logan interrupts sternly, “No. No buts.”

“Pfft... Butts.” Patton snorts.

“Patton.” Logan says, sounding like an annoyed parent.

“Fine. I'm sad... and that’s okay?” Patton says, unsure.

Logan smiles softly, “That is acceptable. Now let’s go get some food. I want waffles with Crofters.”

They get up and get dressed. Logan chooses his normal button up and tie. Patton chooses a plain t-shirt, Virgil’s old hoodie and a pair of shorts.

Patton follows Logan out the door, putting on a front until Logan shoots him a look.

“What do you want for breakfast, Patton?” Logan asks, trying to keep the conversation light, as the others are sure to be up by this time.

“I want toaster strudel.”Patton says.

Logan forces himself not to correct Patton’s grammar, instead saying, “I suppose that is an acceptable choice as it does tend to cheer you up.”

As they walk into the kitchen, Virgil and Roman look up form their spots at the table.

“Hey, Popstar, what’s up?” Virgil asks, giving him a wave.

“Nothing” Patton insists nonchalantly.

“Didn't you say you were gonna wear that pretty flowy skirt today?” Roman asked.

Patton shrugs, “Yeah, I just... didn't want to”

“Patton, is something wrong?” Virgil asks, raising an eyebrow.

Patton shrugs, “I'm not feeling my happy self today, but it’s fine.”

“What’s going on there, padre? “ Roman asks.

Patton huffs, “I said it’s fine.”

Virgil gives him a look somewhere between sad and concerned, “Hey, Patt, it’s obvious that something is up. Please tell us what’s bothering you. Don't make me catastrophize about it all day.”

Normally Virgil doesn't like to guilt trip Patton into doing things, but he can tell something is up and it is bad.

Patton shakes his head, “That’s just it. There is no reason for me to be sad, I just am. And as much as I want to hide it from you guys... I know I shouldn’t. It’s just really frustrating to know that i'm upset for no reason at all.”

Virgil runs a hand through his hair, “Are you sure you’re upset for no reason? Did nothing trigger this?”

Patton takes his seat at the table, “Well... umm, I don't actually know.”

Patton sits and thinks about it as Roman and Virgil carry on eating their food.

Roman frowns, “Was it something we said?”

Patton shakes his head, “No! No, it, uh, it wasn't you guys.”

Logan sets Patton’s toaster strudel down in front of him, the icing in smiley faces and flowers, just the way he likes. “Was it someone else then?” Logan asks.

“I... it... well, yeah.” Patton admits with a sigh.

“What happened?” Roman asks.

Patton pulls Virgil’s old hoodie closer around his shoulders, “Well, remember how I was wearing that cute polka dotted skirt the other day, right?”

Roman smiles, “Yeah, your favourite skirt! It’s really cute on you!”

Patton gives a soft smile, “Thanks. Well there were these people in the store, and they... umm.” Patton hesitates, running a hand through his hair.

“Did they not like the skirt?” Logan asks.

Patton shakes his head, “No. they didn't. They... they were really awful. They called me rude names, even some homophobic slurs. They circled me, pushing me around, being rude and mean. Then one poured their coffee on my skirt and  acted like it was an accident.”

Patton hears Virgil mutter something about homophobes and Roman puts a hand on Virgil’s arm.

Logan sighs, “Oh, so that’s what happened to the skirt.”

Patton nods, “They, they said i’m ugly, that i'm a freak. They said that my skirt was disgusting. That it made me look... They, they... said lots of things that I won't repeat. ”

“Why didn't you tell us about that when you got home?” Virgil asks.

“I... I- ” Patton shrugs and pulls his hood over his head

Logan sets down his bite of waffles,  “That was the day that the video went up, remember? We were all stressed and excited about the video. Patton had run to the store to get snacks.”

“Oh, yeah.” Roman nods.

Patton sighs, staring at his plate, “I didn't want to ruin all the fun.”

“I understand that Patton, but that was a little bit more important than the video.” Virgil says with a sigh.

“I guess so, but it’s too late now.” Patton mumbles.

“What I do not understand is why it is still upsetting you.” Logan admits.

Roman looks at Patton, “Patton, you know that the things they said about you were wrong, right?”

Patton does not respond.

The room goes quiet.

“Patton?”

Patton pokes at his untouched food, “It still hurt.”

“Oh, Patton, of course it did. I would be more concerned if it didn't. But please know that we don't believe any of those things about you.” Logan reminds him

“... Knowing and believing are two different things.” Patton admits, his whispered voice loud in the quiet of the room.

After a long pause Roman shakes his head and frowns, “What do you mean?”

“I... I think I know what he’s saying.” Virgil says, shifting in his chair. “Knowing someone thinks something is like, surface level knowledge, believing something changes your thought patterns and your actions. Like knowing that a table was fixed and believing it can hold your weight are two different things.”

Logan frowns, “But many different factors play into-”

“L, that’s not-” Virgil groans, “How do I put this? Uh, it’s like knowing we won't judge you for having vocab cards, and believing it enough to use them around us.”

Logan blinks, “Oh... I see.” He looks down at Patton, “Is, is he right Patt?”

Patton is breathing so hard he feels like he might explode, his face is hot and his hands are shaking and he thinks he might be crying but he doesn't know. How did Virgil know? He shouldn't be this upset about this. He knows they were wrong, he thinks he believes it, he wants to but he can't and it hurts so much oh gosh it hur-

A hand is on his arm. “Hey, hey, Patton, we’re here. We’re right here.  You're okay.”

Patton turns, looking at Virgil’s hand on his arm. He feels the tears on his face. He takes some deep breaths focusing on Virgil’s hand, listening to his voice.

Finally Patton whispers in the quiet between Virgil’s comforting words, “How did you know?”

Virgil takes a deep breath, “What did you think it was like for me to tell you my name?”

Patton opens his mouth as if to speak, but nothing comes out. He just closes his mouth and nods. They sit there for a minute as Patton’s breathing returns to normal.

Virgil smirks, “Patton, don't think those bad things about yourself, i’ll fight you!” he says playfully.

That gets a small smile and a giggle from Patton.

“And i'll fight anyone who wants to say those things to you!” Roman declares.

Logan smiles, “How about we all wear our fancy feminine clothes together? We’ll all look nice and we’ll be supporting each other in that.”

Roman groans, “I have to wear this because i'm doing the show all day today, could we maybe do that tomorrow?”

“I'd be fine with that.” Logan affirms.

Virgil looks at Paton’s head under his hoodie, “Of course, only if you want to Patton.”

Patton looks up a bit, “Oh, you... you guys don't have to do that for me.”

“We want to Padre,” Roman says with his trademarked smile, “We want to support you!”

Patton frowns, “But they'll tease you too.”

Roman scoffs, “Honestly, damn those kids. I'm looking fabulous tomorrow! The only reason they’d be rude is because I look better in a skirt than they do.”

Patton smiles, “Well, I mean I can't stop you guys.”

Logan smiles “Exactly, now let’s eat and finish getting ready or we’re gonna be late to first class.”

The next day Patton wakes up and looks at the outfit he chose last night, smiling to think of his roommates doing the same. His outfit was a black knee length 50s style poofy dress covered in white polka dots. He had a clip with a red flower on it chosen for his hair, paired with his red converse.

Patton gets dressed, fixes his hair, and puts on some makeup to finish the look. Just some mascara, eyeshadow, and lipstick, but it is enough. He looks great and he feels great too. Patton gives himself a wink before putting the makeup away.

Patton smiles walking down to the living room for breakfast feeling good about himself. He stops as he reaches the bottom of the stairs and sees Virgil sitting on the table eating toast. Virgil is wearing a floor length black evening gown. It has intricate patterns sewn into the fabric in a black thread just slightly different from the fabric making it subtle but strikingly beautiful. Virgil even has a string of pearls around his neck and his hair done up nice.

Virgil catches Patton staring, “You think it’s too much?”

Patton shakes his head, “I just didn't realise we were dressing up so nice. I might have to change.”

Logan comes out from the kitchen, he is wearing a button up fancy white shirt with a knee length skirt. He hands a plate of toaster strudel and strawberries to Patton, “Oh you don't have to dress fancy to look amazing. You already look fantastic.”

Patton blushes, “Thanks Logan, you look pretty great yourself. I didn't know you owned that skirt.”

Logan looks down at poofy galaxy skirt, “Yeah, this is my first time wearing it. I have been waiting for the right occasion.”

“Well, I think you chose well.” Patton says with a smile, “Where’s Roman? Is he still getting ready?”

Virgil nods, “He came into my room early this morning insisting on doing my hair. He had already done his own and he basically stole my makeup when he left, claiming he didn't have what he needed in his own room. I think he just likes that I have so many eyeshadow colors.”

Patton laughs shaking his head, “Our local drama queen.”

“You called!!!” Roman shouts.

They all look up to the top of the stairs where Roman is standing in the dark.

“I am the ultimate gay theatre prince and drama king! And now everyone can tell!” Roman announces.

Roman descends the stairs, one hand on the banister, the other up in his usual dashing pose. As he comes into view the others can only stare.

Roman is wearing a floor length ball gown with a cape. The cape is long, black, and made of silk. The hood has white lacing around the edges, a stark contrast to the dress. To call the dress pretty is an understatement, it is enchantingly beautiful. The skirt looks like a galaxy of rainbows, swirled bright colors falling from his waist, dotted with small white gemstones and sequins. The top of the dress is completely covered in those sparkly white specks.

Virgil smiles, “Wow, Roman. You look stunning. Literally, I am stunned. I might be blinded..”

Roman smiles and adjusts his hair, which Patton now realises is holding a tiara.

“Roman you look like a beautiful prince if ever I saw one!” Patton says with a smile.

“Hopefully the gayest prince you ever saw too!” He laughs.

“That just goes without saying.” Logan admits.

Patton notices that Roman has on rainbow highlighter and he has put on pure white and sparkly eyeshadow to match his dress. He even has rainbow freckles covering his face. Patton has no idea how he managed to do it. He imagines that that  must’ve been why he needed Virgil’s makeup.

Roman laughs and travels the last few steps to land in front of Virgil, “Here, as promised,” He says giving his cape to Virgil, “a hood to hide in, though you look so good I don't know why you would want to hide.”

Virgil sets his plate down on the table and hooks the cape around his neck, “I like walking around looking beautiful and terrifying, but mostly terrifying.”

Roman rolls his eyes, “My emo nightmare, you are the midnight sky to my shimmering star.”

Virgil smirks, “In the background, unnoticed, only there to strike fear and make others look better?”

Roman smiles, taking Virgil’s hand, “You ignite wonder and curiosity in people’s hearts. The unknown is a bit scary, yes, but your beauty is something people marvel at, something they long to understand and achieve. You are noticed more than you think. You see yourself as the background, but others see you as their context for existing, and that is truly wonderful.”

“If you two are done flirting we need to leave in ten minutes and fifteen seconds, so i'd consider eating something.” Logan reminds them as he grabs Virgil’s empty plate and heads back to the kitchen. Roman grumbles but follows him to grab his breakfast.

Patton’s smile falters, “Oh yeah, I forgot about the actually going to school part.”

“Hey, no, you don't get to be nervous, that’s my job.” Virgil jokes.

“I don't look half as good as the rest of you guys though. You all look so amazing, how could I compare?” Patton says with a  frown.

Roman runs in, shoving the last half of a waffle in his mouth. He grabs Patton by the hand and pulls him up the stairs. The next thing Patton knows he’s on his bed and Roman is digging through his closet.

Patton gives him a look, “Ro? What are you-?”

“I will not have you feeling bad about yourself today.” He insists. “AHA!” He spins around a dress in his hands, “I didn't know you owned this! You should wear it! If you want to, of course.”

Patton goes pale, “I... I never actually intended to wear it, I just.... I don't know.”

Roman raises a skeptical eyebrow at Patton, “You would look better in this than any of us in our outfits.”

“... Really?” Patton asks hesitant.

Roman nods, “You should try it on.”

Patton slowly takes the dress from Roman.

“I'll be in the hall. Come out when you’re ready, and know it doesn't matter to me what you wear. I just want you to feel radiant today.”

Patton smiles at him and looks down at the dress in his hands. He has a decision to make.

Logan joins Roman in the hall, “What did you do?”

Roman smiles, “I gave him an option. The dress he already had on, or one he hasn't worn before. I'm letting him decide.”

“I see. That does sound like a good choice. He did seem to like our outfits more than his own.” Logan acknowledges with a nod

The door opens a crack, “Logan, is that you?”

“Yes Patton.”

“How much time do I have?” Patton asks.

“Five minutes.”

They hear a shaky breath come from behind the door, “I feel amazing right now, but I feel like i’ll regret my choice as soon as I leave.”

Virgil speaks up from where he had hidden in the shadows, “We aren't judging you Patt. And trust me, I don't think anyone at school will either.”

The door swings open.

“Oh my dear sweet Crofters, you are radiant.” Logan mumbles.

“You like it that much?” Patton asks, a blush creeping up his face.

Roman laughs, “Patton, even i'm jealous of how good you look in that dress!”

Virgil smirks, “You should be Roman, he looks better than you do.”

Patton blushes harder and looks at himself in the mirror on the back of his door. He admires the long dress. He thinks he looks like an elf from the Lord of the Rings. The dress is a dark forest green. The hems are adorned with silver embroidery, the sleeves are long and flowy. He is wearing a pair of small brown boots. And his hair is half up, pinned back by a clip of the star of Lothlorien.

Virgil smirks seeing the way Logan is staring at Patton. He swears they better admit their feelings soon or he’s gonna explode. He rolls his eyes, “Grab your bag and let’s go, or we’re gonna be late.”

Somehow they manage to get to school on time. Everything seems fine, they all have ensured they have everything and are ready for class. But as they pull up Patton freaks out.

“I can't do this, I wanna go back home!” He admits, his grip on his backpack tightening.

Roman turns around and frowns, “I would much rather you stay, but I’ll let you decide. Let me make a phone call while you three talk this through. I’ll be just outside.” He climbs out of the car and leans back against his door pulling out his phone.

Logan turns around from his place in the driver's seat to see Patton who was sitting behind him. “I thought you were feeling confident and beautiful? What happened?”

Patton squeezes his eyes shut, “Oh... uh, nothing really, I just realised that the people who were mean to me in the shop go here. I kinda saw them walk in the front gate just now. I don't want to have to face them again.”

Virgil frowns, “You want a hug Patton?”

Patton nods and Virgil holds him tight, “You don't have to face them alone. They won't hurt you. We will all be right here with you, and besides, you have lots of friends here who support you. You’re never as alone as you think you are.”

Patton smiles and gives Virgil a big squeeze before pulling away. He wipes his tears and looks up at Virgil, “Is my makeup smudged now?”

Virgil shakes his head “No, I think Roman put some fancy waterproof setting spray on you.”

“Oh. Was that the nice smelling thing he sprayed on my face as we were walking out the door?” Patton asks

Virgil snorts, “Yup, that would be it.”

Logan smiles proudly, “Yes Patton, like Virgil said, it won't just be us supporting you. Look who we convinced to join us in dressing up.”

Patton looks out the window past Virgil and sees a crowd of people coming out the front of the school gates. A bunch of guys are wearing clothing ranging from mini skirts to sun dresses to ballgowns.

Patton gasps as he sees who it is. There are guys from theatre, the debate team, several of the sports teams, the D&D club, and the art classes. All of Patton’s friends are in the crowd. He smiles so wide he feels his face might split open. Patton laughs, grabbing his bag and dashing around the car to Roman’s side.

“You still afraid to go in?” Roman asks as he sees Patton round the car, an amazed smile on his face.

“No, not at all.” Patton admits.

Logan and Virgil get out of the car and join them, waiting for the crowd to arrive.

“How did you do this?” Patton asks wonder in his voice.

“Well, Logan gave me the debate guy’s numbers, Virgil texted his D&D group, and we all texted all our friends, but for the record it was my idea.”

“Group hug!!!” Patton yells, squeezing them all tightly. “Thank-”

“Don't thank us. We are just being good friends.” Virgil says softly.

“You would do the same for us, and you deserve to get just as much love as you give.” Logan insists, smiling wide despite not really being one for hugs.

“Yeah, we didn't do much ourselves. We just rallied people who love you to support you in this so we can show you just how much you’re loved.” Roman adds with a smile.

Patton is crying what he will later deem the happiest tears he has ever shed. But that doesn't matter because right now he is surrounded by some of the best, most supportive friends in the world and he could not ask for more.

Bonus scene:

When the friends get over to them, they break up the hug. Patton compliments and hugs everyone who will let him. He laughs at the drama kids who strike obnoxious poses and compliments the debate team on their color coordinated outfits. He beams when the D&D team compliments his dress, saying it looks good enough to be in a fantasy movie. Patton rolls his eyes at Remmy in his mini skirt and crop top when he says he is the hottest of all of them. He ends up back at Logan. He looks so proud that they were able to do this for him.

“Can I give you a hug, Logan” Patton asks.

Logan smiles, “Sure, Patton.”

Patton wraps Logan in a tight hug, face buried in Logan’s neck. He pulls back after a second, just enough to look Logan in the face. Logan is smiling and Patton is so overwhelmed with joy. He leans in and presses a small kiss to Logan’s lips.

Logan blushes, a small smile creeping onto his lips, “Patton...”

“Yes, Logan?”

“Kiss me again?” Logan asks and Patton can't help but oblige. He leans in and kisses him again, longer this time. They both are smiley and giggly messes, but they don't care.

Next thing they know they hear Roman whooping at them, and Virgil muttering something about them being so oblivious and finally figuring it out.

They break apart and Patton gives Virgil a look, but his laughter makes it ineffective. Logan is blushing and hiding his face in his hands. Patton pulls them away from his face and plants a kiss on Logan’s forehead. They walk inside holding hands, feeling happier and more confident in themselves than ever.

[hearteyesuris]

Home / Stenbrough

I haven’t written in like. 8 years!!! I’m sorry!! Anyway so you know how I wrote those Depressing brokenfamily!Bill headcanons? This is a one shot based off of that and it gets sad ,,, but its also fluffy!!

Warnings - Implied panic attack, bill is Fed Up, bill’s dad is emotionally abusive!! idk if there’s more but. be safe

Words - 2.2k (how)

Bill Denbrough did not have a home.

He had a house - of course, he had two. His Mother’s and his Father’s.

His parents (to put it frankly) did not care. At all. They didn’t care for Bill once Georgie had died. And he understood - really, he did. Everyone deals with bereavement issues differently, and his parents had finally pushed one another apart, after years of tension so thick that Bill’s stutter couldn’t even kill the silence between them.

Once Georgie’s death had been settled, and the period between November of the previous year and Bill’s painful thirteenth summer ended, so had their relationship. His Mother had left with the choice thrown upon Bill to chose who to go to.

And he picked his Mother.

But, he had decided, sixteen was far too young to be dealing with such a violent set of parents - not that anyone should be at any age. His Father had always used emotional blackmail as a twisted persuasive method, and his Mother had always taken it, turning his words into something as sweet as honey but lacking the backbone she needed to put him in his place. She’d listen to the words, plead out a strangled sorry and declare it all OK until it happened again. A routine of sorts, Bill had mused.

Despite the two not being together, Bill’s parents still managed to leave him stuck in the middle.

‘Bill? Shall we go and get your favourite dinner tonight?’

‘Bill, how about we go and buy you that new book you’ve wanted?’

‘Bill, make sure not to tell your Father about this,’

‘Bill, make sure not to tell your Mother about this,’

Bill, Bill, Bill. It was all he ever heard - and when he agreed to whatever his parents wanted to do, an awkward silence settled over him and whoever had taken him out that night, causing Adrenaline to course through Bill’s nerves, snagging on loose ends and pulling them free.

However, this became another routine to Bill, a new thing to get used to and accept as it was.

It just wasn’t until this night that he realised how bad it truly was.

Wednesday nights had always been spent at his Father’s house - a sad midweek visit, dragging a bag or two behind him and mumbling a hello in his direction as he sat and smoked, eyes fixated on a book, or a film, or the TV - anything that wasn’t his son. He might get an awkward pat on the shoulder or a greeting back on some days, but most of the time if he didn’t begin conversation, he wouldn’t get any.

Unspoken words hung in the air until the whistle for dinner flew upstairs. A degrading call to further prove that his Father truly didn’t care. But it was only once he’d reached the bottom step did he realise that something was not as it usually was.

Where Bill usually ate dinner alone, the news humming as it always did in the background, laid a second place mat and plate, his Father sat behind it.

Anxiety swam through his bloodstream, dipping and diving and dancing in the tawny vapour of anger and stress.

‘William,’ his Father began, his words dripping with a patronising tone, flooding Bill’s head and boiling until he felt his lungs burn and cry out for help. ‘Come and sit,’

He walked into the living room, cold linoleum sneaking past his thick socks due to his Father’s distaste of spending money on heating the house, took a shaky breath and sat down.

Questions filled his mind - what would this week’s activity be? Why was it being discussed on a Wednesday? Had a family member died? Had his father found out about something?

‘Don’t look at me like that, William,’ He scoffed, looking at Bill as though he was the disappointment of an empty packet of cigarettes, rather than his son.

‘I’ve been thinking - before you say anything, please hear me out,’ Bill steadied himself for the usual. Not to be friends with the losers? To come and do work experience with his Father? To stop writing? To stop living as he pleased?

‘I don’t … I don’t think your Mother is an appropriate person for you to be living with,’

Of all the things Bill had rallied up in his head, he wasn’t expecting his Father to say this. Of course, he’d never been all too fond of his Mother since they ended it, but he had never tried to deny Bill the rights to live with her in such a way. He had, of course, been dropping hints right under Bill’s nose that he was the better parent.

‘Being the patriarch of a broken family does not make you the better person,’ Bill mumbled under his breath, a way that prevented his stutter breaking through and making him seem more pitiable than brave.

His Father’s eyebrows shot up, a breeze of crimson fluttering past his face, growing stronger as he got angrier.

‘Excuse me,’ his Father stared him in the eyes, veins fluctuating with anger and writing as his voice increased in volume, ‘This is my house, William. If you refuse to listen to me then we shall go about this the hard way.’

Something in his voice sent a shiver through Bill, a cold sweat beading at his temples. He gulped back the words that had died up in his throat, feeling that all too familiar anxious tug at his stomach, the hand of Anxiety stroking up his ribs and tickling at them, gliding painfully slowly across each rib and suddenly ripping at his heart.

‘William, so long as I am your primary carer, you shall listen to me,’ Bill scoffed at this, a laugh caused by the unbelievable statement escaping.

His Father looked positively enraged, his face regaining its red hue as he picked up both his and Bill’s plates.

‘Go to your room, please. You are not to contact your Mother and we shall discuss this in the morning. Out of sight.’

Bill bit back tears - of anger and sadness - and made his way up the stairs.

He walked straight past his closed door into the significantly smaller room down the hall, the door of which was littered with crayon drawings of animals, plants and people.

Georgie’s room was quiet, and calm. It was one of the only things that had remained constant in Bill’s memories - ever since he could remember, Georgie’s room had looked like this. Pale yellow walls, one of which was coated in crayon from the time he and Bill had decorated it. The bed was made, a winnie the pooh bed spread adorned it, Georgie’s favourite - he had liked how he was always so happy, and in a way seeing him was bittersweet to Bill, due to how much Georgie had turned into a ray of sunshine, cheering up everyone he saw.

However, the main reason Bill sat on Georgie’s floor was because his room was at the front of the house. And Bill was not going to sit in his bedroom just to fulfil the duties his Father had given him. Definitely not.

So, instead, he decided he would go to the only house he’s ever truly felt was a home - Stanley Uris’ house.

Stanley Uris had been one of Bill’s friends since he was younger. Stan and Bill’s Mothers used to meet up for coffee on Sunday mornings and due to this, Stan and Bill became friends.

Ever since the year previously, when their closest friends Richie and Eddie started dating, the two boys were prone to spending time as a pair outside of the group - of course, all the others had their suspicions, but nothing needed to be confirmed. They laughed along with the jokes, held hands, linked arms, perhaps even kissed in private - but they didn’t have to confirm it.

Whilst Bill loved all of his friends, there was just something so prominent about Stanley. He had such a peculiar sense of humour that had Bill in fits, he was always able to make time for his friends (especially Bill) and would be so willing for him to stay at his or come over if anything happened at home. So Bill decided that he would ignore his Father - really, what was the worst he could do? - and go to see Stan instead.

The jump down wasn’t too steep and Bill had perfected it from all the times it was necessary that he left through his baby brother’s window. He looked back in, as if he expected Georgie to be sat on his bed with a book, and then dropped down onto the damp grass below him.

Not even allowing himself a minute to catch his breath, Adrenaline once again entered Bill and shot through his whole body, coursing smoothly and flooding all his senses.

He ran all the way to the Uris household, a whole 2 miles away - he could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth but shook it off, sitting on the curb of the road and breathing deeply to regain his senses.

He heard the sliding of a window above him, and turned around quickly, only to see Stanley Uris’ silhouette where the noise came from, his hand out of the window in a beckoning motion.

Bill stood up from the curb, scrubbing at his face with the sleeve of his jumper in an attempt to get rid of the tracks left behind by the tears, and entered Stan’s house.

The Uris household - another thing that had remained a constant in Bill’s life. The paintings on the beige walls, the hand stitched messages made by Andrea Uris, the vintage furniture in each room. Bill loved the familiarity of it, and the security that came along with it.

Gentle footsteps echoed from the old wooden stairs, tapping out in a repetitive pattern that reminded Bill of the closest thing he’d ever had to home - Stan.

Stan knew that he didn’t have to talk when Bill was feeling like this. He’d always let him talk first, so he could decide how he should initiate a conversation with the taller boy. He tapped Bill on the shoulder and traced his finger down his arm, eventually resting at his wrist and holding his hand. Still on the second to last step, he gave his arm a soft tug before twisting on his foot and making his way back upstairs.

The boy behind him was clearly exhausted, the bags under his eyes had almost tripled in size since Stan had seen him that afternoon. His face was red raw from what Stan assumed to be crying, and his eyes looked bleak yet held a world of emotion in them.

Bill Denbrough confused Stanley Uris - how could one boy hold so many emotions yet keep them all bottled away until he gave in and opened the gate?

Pulling back the duvet on his bed, Stan gave Bill a gentle nudge and settled him down in his bed, and before getting in himself set his vinyl of The Queen Is Dead on. He offered Bill a smile and got a watery one in response, but it was better than nothing.

He crawled into his bed and rested his head on Bill’s chest, knowing it kept him grounded, and felt his heartbeat clatter around his ribs, thrumming out an irregular beat and making the boy’s hands shake.

He felt those same hands come to rest on the small of his back, drawing patterns over the soft skin there, and then he heard him swallow deeply and open his mouth.

‘I just … Stan, I can’t stay at my Dad’s anymore,’ he choked out, digging his fingers into Stan’s back to ground himself, ‘I hate it there. I hate him. He makes me so sad. He doesn’t want me to go to Mum’s anymore and he just wants me to stay in my room - he complains when I don’t eat but then takes my food off of me and won’t let me eat. He gets angry when I go into Georgie’s room and right now he thinks I’m in my room contemplating how I was rude to him when all I did was tell the truth and-’

Bill’s breath came out in staggered junctions, his chest heaving beneath Stan’s head.

‘What’s your favourite flower, Bill?’

‘Daffodils - for Georgie,’

Stan smiled and squeezed his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his chest.

‘That’s nice, I always think of Georgie when I see daffodils,’ Stan spoke clearly to Bill, enunciating each word to remind him he was there, ‘I love lilies’

‘I’ll buy you some, I promise,’

Stan beamed at this, his eyes stinging and threatening tears.

‘I love you, Bill,’

Bill gave Stan a half hearted smile - half hearted as it may be, it was all he could manage in his state.

Stan gently hummed along to the music, letting the vibrations float across Bill’s chest and swim around the empty room, thick with the haze of falling tears and ragged breaths.

Bill Denbrough may not have a physical home - but he had Stanley Uris, and that was the best home he could have ever asked for.

/ tag list

@trashmoutheds - @t-rash-m-outh - @spicyymoon–lovve - @whipashwhipash - @rainy-kaspbrak - @trxshmouth-t0zier

[paranoid-rhythm]

Interlude Translation: Caster Gilgamesh Part 3

Warning: Spoilers for those who haven’t finished Babylonia and Solomon. And oh, feels hitting like a truck.

Sorry for the delay, Christmas was busy. In any case, please enjoy humanity’s oldest King of Tsunderes in all his glory!

I’m using the female avatar, so for convenience’s sake, I named the MC Gudako.

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Angra: Gah! That hurts! But too bad, you failed to kill me, King of Heroes!

Here I go! This is the power of an Avenger! I’ll return the curse in double!

CasGil: Verg Avesta…?! As if I’d let you, bastard!

Amakusa: Hah!

CasGil: Tch, how cunning…! The accuracy was precise. Did you learn that from your time with Fuuma? To think that you’ll be able to rise up from that.

What, did you meet a monster? A beast that is outside the limit of common sense?

Amakusa: Yes. Because of that, I’ve become traumatized of jaguars. I was completely defeated by that servant.

I wonder about you though. We seem to share the same way of doing things, the same rationality.

I wonder if we can come to an understanding. And through that, if I can make an opening.

CasGil: Heh. So while you were calmly trying to reason with me, you’ve managed to block my feet from moving. Though it’s not bad to try and to reason it out, you lack authority!

I shall show you how it’s done!

Draw your arrows, I will permit it! Witness the defense of Uruk, this greatest and richest of cities! The deluge of the land--…

Amakusa: I know that! That’s why this is a struggle for that…!

CasGil: Ugh!

Gudako: God’s Resolution?!

CasGil: Don’t panic! Don’t you have the same ace as him?! Use those hands of yours for something!

Gudako:

1 Use Gandr on Amakusa

2 Use Gander on Angra

1st Option

Amakusa: Ugh!

Angra: Whoopsy, so you’re going that route huh.

Oh well, Super Amakusa-kun’s Noble Phantasm is strong is strong after all? Honestly, I don’t want to get blown away by it too.

And at this point, don’t worry, I’m only aiming at Gilgamesh. I’m sure someone’s gonna save you!

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

2nd Option

Angra: Uwah! Oww, this Gandr is the woooorst!

Amakusa: So you stopped Verg Avesta? As expected of my master, making such a critical decision.

Had you not stopped it, the King of Heroes would’ve been struck down by the return curse.

But… what will you do after that? I can fire my Noble Phantasm faster than the King of Heroes to regain movement.

Why not test it now?

Heaven's Feel begin. An end to all things--…

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

 CasGil: How ridiculous! To look down not only upon me, but also my treasures?!

CasGil: I will show you that even if you have stopped my movement, my magic wands can still function!

Take this, Melamu Din--…!!

Roman: Wait! Wait! What are you guys doing in that place?!

Gudako: Eh?! Doctor?!

Da Vinci: Just now, Roman came rushing in… it was so sudden that even we here has not grasped the situation at all.

Just where were you until now?!

Roman: What do you mean where… I’m more interested to know what this fuss is all about…

I was just in my room, taking a nap. If you’re going to ask me how long, then about four hours.

I was even having a very nice dream. And now I’m being treated as a missing person…

Da Vinci: No way! But there was nothing in the feed from the camera inside your room!?

Amakusa: Hmm… it seems like Doctor Roman has awakened, I guess this ends here.

Angra: Yeah. But Saint-sama, don’t you think that it’s a bit of a waste, since we were almost able to defeat them? Oh well, then I’ll disappear quietly too.

Aah, ah, anyone would’ve been great, I just wanted to kill someone shaped like a human!

CasGil: Tch… that bastard Merlin, was he trying to gain a favor from me? Ending this while I’m in a tight spot…

Oh well. Since he’s awake now, there’s no reason for us to stay in this place.

The rest shall be explained once we return to Chaldea.

Mashu! Start the return leyshift operation.

Roman: Haaah, I keep telling you guys, leyshifting is not free…

I don’t even know what’s happening, but I’m starting preparations for the return leyshift. Da Vinci-chan, Mashu, help me out.

Amakusa: Please don’t forget to retrieve Jack the Ripper and Paracelsus as well. Especially since Jack was great at following instructions, please don’t forget to give her a reward later.

CasGil: Let me conclude this for you. All of these was just a field practice. I was the one who thought it all up.

To make it look like Romani left Chaldea by leyshifting, I arranged for someone to make copies of the staff, and made it look that they were knocked out.

And then I arranged for three servants to be the enemy.

Mashu: Huh… huh?! B-but why did you do such a thing?

CasGil: When I was toured around by Gudako, I was able to roughly grasp, the weakness of Chaldea.

I have many things that I want to point out, but for now, it’s you humans.

The operation of this place is highly dependent on the skills of each individual. If one were to go missing, the collapse of the operations would be inevitable.

Everyone should be aware of that. But no specific solution nor any countermeasure has been taken.

The solution should be… well, I guess it could wait until the Human Order has been saved. It is impossible, after all, to procure additional staff as of the moment.

At the very least, I am telling you to prepare at least one countermeasure to use for an emergency.

Thus, this activity should help Chaldea prepare to be calm, should any emergency arise.

This should be taken as preparation for when the King of Magic attacks Chaldea directly. There is a big possibility of that, so this is in anticipation of that.

Gudako:

1I see…

2 But the King looks like he had a lot of fun though…

(Same result for both answers)

Jack: Hey, hey~! King, where’s my reward?

CasGil: Wait for a bit longer. I shall prepare an appropriate reward for you. Your excitement would increase while you wait.

Jack: Okay~! Please don’t forget Nursery’s share as well!

CasGil: Now. Even though you slacked in the setting up of the situation, you still worked hard. I shall give you compensation for the materials that you lost.

Though if they knew how this would end, those still asleep would take this situation for granted.

Mashu: Speaking of which, just what was that medicine from Paracelsus-san…

Paracelsus: Though I have explained it before, it’s medicine that will force you to sleep until you’ve recovered from fatigue.

As long as it’s one takes only a single dose, there is no strong side effect.

Though I’ve prepared medicine to help them wake up, it seems that it won’t be necessary. It’s about time that they would be waking up.

Da Vinci: Didn’t you just say something really terrible at one point though?

Paracelsus: That is… only if you overdose on the medicine…

Even though what happened was just an exercise, I will not tell any lies to Gudako.

Well, it’s all my fault if you do not wish to believe me, please don’t worry too much about it.

CasGil: I chose the staff who are, realistically speaking, highly likely to drop out. I wanted to see how they would respond should an emergency situation arise.

With the way you were able to analyze the cause of the trouble, even making the leyshift a success, I give you a passing mark.

Roman: So that’s what happened… I’ve finally understood the situation…

I understand your concern*, but isn’t what you did way too over the top?

(*Romani used “老婆心/roubashin” here, IDK if it’s a jab at Caster Gilgamesh’s age, but it literally means “grandmotherly solicitude for another's welfare”, so uhm…ww)

What if the King of Magic attacked us at this time, what are we gonna do?

CasGil: Of course I have thought of that possibility. If a real emergency occurs, I have prepared for us to be taken to the scene immediately.

The fact that you fell asleep immediately, and that no one was able to find you, all of that was Merlin’s doing.

Da Vinci: Aah! I knew it! If it’s that useless Caster, I’m sure he’d accept this job with a smirk on his face!

To think that not only humans, but also electronics can be affected by his magic, that Magician King of Scammers, he even deceived the cameras!

CasGil: Of course, it’s not only Chaldea that I tested in this little adventure, mongrel.

Why did you assume that a servant would not betray you? There should be a limit to your benevolence.

Gudako:

1 But, isn’t that a necessity…?

2 I’ll do my best not to let that happen!

(Same result for both answers)

CasGil: Huh? It seems I am the fool here, for thinking that you’d understand this.

It’s no use explaining anything to a simpleton. It was foolish of me to not think of that possibility.

Mashu: What are you saying, King Gilgamesh? This is Chaldea, the last stronghold of the Human Order.

Talks about fighting and hostility should come after the Human Order is saved. After all, be it humans or Heroic Spirits, we all came here for a single purpose.

CasGil: Well, it’s as you say. If only that were not the case, you will not be able to summon me.

Then let’s forget about this talk of betrayal. Then next is… ah yes, that.

Mongrel, you’ve amused me with your reactions and judgement.

Though they might not be the best, you made some meaningful decisions.

You should remember them and when you’re alone, you should reflect on them.

Roman: After hearing what happened, I think I’m the one who got the best out of this deal? Not only was I able to sleep well, but I also got to see such a wonderful dream…

In my dream, Magi☆Mari--… ah, no, no, I was supposed to keep her private live show for me a secret~

CasGil: Are you still half asleep? Talking like that, you’re making it look like I did this exercise for your sake.

Roman: Oh? Was it not the case?

This is the first time that I’ve seen a dream different from the one I always see.

CasGil: Hmph! I’m going to sleep. If anything happens, just wake me--… Ah, no, just wake me if you wish.

Roman: Aah, he got angry and left… Oh well, I’m sure he’ll be in a good mood soon.

That king has a lot on his mind after all. I’m sure he won’t get hung up about this small thing for long.

In any case, everyone, I’m sorry about what happened. If only I were a bit more resolute, I would’ve waken up sooner…

Da Vinci: It’s fine. It’s good that you were able to sleep well. We’re fine just knowing of your gratitude.

Mashu: Yes, we realized that it would be troubling if the doctor is not around. You’ve done well pulling Chaldea together until now.

Gudako: Yeah, please stay with us forever!

Roman: Ah, of course. We’re all working hard to be able to take back our future after all.

I know I’ve inconvenienced you this time, so please let me say my gratitude.

Thank you, I was able to rest well.

Gudako: Wasn’t it thanks to Magi☆Mari?

Roman: Uh… I don’t think it is… well supposedly… uh, maybe just a little?

In any case, I should start picking up on the work I left off! Since it’s almost dinner time, I’ll end this quick and then all of us should go to the cafeteria together!

So uh, yeah, we see now that the "king" who relaxed in this interlude is most obviously, not Gilgamesh. Though seems to have enjoyed playing detective.

And this might just be me, being a Clairvoyance trio fan, but Romani talking about how the dream (from Merlin) is way different from the one (nightmare of the incineration of the human order) he always sees, and that it's the first time he's seen a different dream.... just hits a chord somehow. Remember how Da Vinci said that Romani's 10 years was without freedom from the premonition that he saw. :(

[feitanswife]

Day three- brotp

Wise guy

Summary: dual-story! Checking another piece off the long Shotgun Verse to-do list and fulfilling a Nanbaka Week prompt!  This one was either relationship or brotp and I went with the cutest bros to ever bro, Seitorou and Nico! Also this is a story about Nico getting his wisdom teeth removed, and discovering that needles aren’t the only medical thing he’s afraid of. And I’m also projecting real hard because basically this is what happened to me. I’m petrified of medication don’t blame me it’s basically drilled into us in this state like some kind of anti-everything cult.

-

              Nico was crying, gauze stuffed in his creeks, looking hypothetically cute, but more pity inducing than anything else.

              “H-Hajime” the muffled voice calls out, “don’t weave me hewre awone! I’m gonna die!”

              Hajime pushes him gently off, “you won’t die Nico, it’s just a half dose of pain medication, you literally could not be more careful if you tried.”

              “But… But… it’s inside me!”

              “and? You take worse shit daily!”

              Nico slunk to the floor, sobbing. No one could make out the words he was trying to say anymore.

              Rock pulled Hajime to the side, “listen man, I can explain. It’s an American thing. Especially in the city where we grew up, that word printed on that bottle? That… we don’t even say it. It’s like that old saying, ‘speak of the devil and he shall appear’. That shit’s a death sentence in pill form. There is no coming back from that. If it doesn’t kill you directly it’ll starve you by siphoning your money until you lose everything.”

              “maybe in a higher dosage, it’s 75% Tylenol what they gave him. And he only took a one when the thing said two pills.”

              Rock shook his head, and clenched his jaw before sighing, “It’s still scary, even for someone like Nico, not to mention the anesthesia hasn’t completely worn off, he’s going to get emotional. Just… please don’t force him to take them. If the pin gets bad enough he will, but for now just let him take the standard Tylenol.”

               Hajime threw his hands up, “fine, whatever, but I’m going home. I have a pregnant fiancée to take care of!”

              Nico had stopped crying, “I-I’m sowry Rovk, if I didn’t have this stupid allergy to Ibu…ibe… that thing, we wouldn’t have had to get the alternative ones.”

              Rock helped Nico back into the recliner, “Nico, it’s fine, you’re fine. You head what hajime said, that only made up ¼ of the pill, and you only took a ½ dose. And from here on out you don’t have to take any more unless you want to. I’ll leave them here, in case you need them. Seitorou will be here in a minute, and he’ll keep you safe!”

              Nico had sat watching food network for a while until Seitorou wandered in with a shopping bag.

              “Ah, there you are! Hajime said I was going to be watching you tonight. Are you doing better?”

              Nico shrugs, but pointed to the pile of used up gauze on the table next to him.

              “Yeah, you always have been a bleeder. I bought some extra gauze just in case. Do you think you’re up to eat something?”

              Nico removed some gauze to talk somewhat normally, “tongue’s still numb but I am hungry.”

              They managed to get some jello into Nico’s stomach, but he didn’t look satisfied.

              “tummy feels bad.”

              Seitorou furrows his brow, “your stomach? Did you take an medicine?”

              “half dose of that- had a panic attack after.”

              Seitorou picked up the bottle Nico had pointed to and read over it, grimacing, “oh wow, I guess with your allergies they didn’t have much of a choice. But this probably could upset your stomach, even at a half dose. But you’re half way through the time so at a half dose it should wear soon. Are you planning on taking more of these? Or do you want to try with just the normal ones for a while?”

              “Normal.” Nico murmurd, “Hajime got mad though.”

              “Well he’s not too well versed in American drug culture, so he probably thought you were being overly dramatic. But Rock explained it to me before I came it. Anyway, enough about pills and culture, why don’t we watch some anime? I never did get around to watching that one that came out last November that everyone loved to much.”

              Nico’s face lit up even though he couldn’t smile. Seitorou didn’t know what he was missing!

-

              Several hours later, they sat crying happy tears in the dark lounge, Nico’s head resting against Seitorou’s shoulder. The dramatic near-death of the main character’s beloved pet and eventual tearful reunion between the love interests was just too much to bear. It was Nico’s third watch, but it still got him every time. Or maybe it was the sleep deprivation and lack of proper sustenance. Hard to eat anything when you can only open your mouth an inch or so.

              He had wanted to sleep but he kept thinking the gauze would fall out of place and he’d choke on it. It was a rational fear! But he couldn’t take it out to sleep because A. he’s still bleeding after like ten hours, B. having it out hurt for some reason, and C. although he hadn’t fully read the instructions, it sounded like something he wasn’t supposed to do.

              And apparently if you somehow screw this up, it’ll ruin your life forever, according to the internet.

              So instead they decided to Re-watch One Punch Man for like the fifth time and hopefully be lulled to sleep by the sounds of breaking bones and explosions.

              It worked. Somehow.

-

              Day two was fine, not much happened.

              But day three, oh god day three.

              Day three is the worst, lemme tell you.

              Nico sat, the bottle of pills in his hand, jaw throbbing like Saitama himself had just socked him right in the face. It was excruciating, and it had begun to swell and bruise a dark, ugly yellow.

              Go to a mirror and puff out your creeks as hard as you can. Now imagine that it looked like you just lost a fistfight with god. Combine those images. And you have Nico’s current predicament.

              At least it had stopped bleeding? But it still felt better to have the gauze supporting his jaw.

              Seitorou had stepped out to go to the bathroom, and Nico knew this was his only chance. He had just downed a bowl of terrible chicken soup and a jello cup, meaning he was more than set for the nausea to come.

              But… maybe he’d do a one-fourth dose, just in case.

              He had to swallow his pride before the pill, but he managed it before Seitorou returned.

              And the regret was immediate. His knees went immediately week, the room spinning more than it already had been in his weakened state. He dropped to the floor next to the mirror he used to help take the pills while he couldn’t open his mouth like he normally would. He’d cry, but with how much it hurt to do anything, it likely wasn’t a solid idea.

              Seitorou had returned then.

              “Nico! Nico what happened?” his voice was high, trembling.

              “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I couldn’t take it!” Nico cried, handing over the bottle and pill cutter, “it hurts too much.”

              Seitorou kneeled next to Nico’s trembling form, hushing him gently, “you’re okay, you survived the first one right? And this one’s even less.”

              “but I can’t Sei! I can’t!”

              Seitorou took his hand, “Yes you can. The doctor wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, you know that. Come on, lets go back to the couch and watch something, to take your mind off it. How about we check out a show Hitoshi recommended to me? It’s a magical girl show themed around princesses and apparently it’s really good.”

              There was around 50 episodes of it, so they’d easily be busy watching for the rest of the recovery time at least. And it really was a good series. It was unique, nothing like the rest of it’s franchise, but it brought a fresh spin to the concept and the execution was just great. It was the sort of show that reminded the viewer why they jumped down the anime rabbit hole in the first place.

              And, as Seitorou had so expertly predicted, Nico was quickly and surely distracted.

-

              It had taken five days for Nico to be up and about at all, even though the surgeon had estimated he’d be back in his cell in four, tops. But Seitorou had been glad to spend the extra time with him, as there really was no need to watch the halls these days. Everyone, even the prisoners, were too focused on the wedding to cause mischief.

              An when Seitorou was finally tore away from his coddling/anime binge session, something just didn’t feel right about returning to his post.

              “don’t tell me you’re getting attached to the kid now.” Hajime grumbled.

              “w-well he’s really not that bad Hajime!”

              “still, you’re a prison guard! And regardless of how ridiculous his circumstance is, he cant just be your friend like that!”

              Seitorou frowned, “and what makes you say that? Your future wife doesn’t seem to have much of an issue with it.”

              They both turned to Momoko, who was reading through some mail, “what? Don’t drag me into your fight. It’s hardly my business what Seitorou does with his free time as long as he doesn’t cause any trouble.”

              Seitorou grinned smugly, “you know, he even gave me a nickname~”

              Hajime’s head hit the table so hard it cracked.

(A/N: hey, if you’re curious about the rest of this crazy AU then check out the Nanbaka tag on ao3, you’ll find my incomplete mess of fics there! i swear i’m going to be publishing new chapters of both Who I Am and Shotgun itself the minute this week of prompts ends! and when I finish Who I Am, i’m going to start on the Honey and Trois mini arc... or maybe the Rock and Liang mini arc? idk i’ll see where my muse takes me.) 

[huntsman-ash]

RWBY Season 7 Episode 2

Same deal as last time on this one, no tags so it doesn’t spoil anyone but I’ll keep it for my own stuff. Might start tagging these “livewatch” but I dont think THAT should show up on any particular tag-list. So here we go.

Where last we left our intrepid band of weirdos, lesbians, small boys being inhabited by old men, and Qrow, they’d just gotten their asses pinched by the most flamboyantly over-the-top “special operatives” in existence after probably saving Mantle from getting its ass chewed on by Grimm. Lets see how they fare...

Well seems like its pretty in character. Nora is attempting to EAT her way out of handcuffs. And I think Oscar just fell asleep. 

“Took us out like its nothing”, says Jaune. Its almost like they’re Specialists and you didn’t even graduate from Vale.  Mind you, BOTH groups are nothing compared to what I really honestly hope is true and not just my military headcanons Atlas has on hand. 

Hmm. Random gritty looking civvie. Interesting.  Least his giving exposition. “The elite of elite military Huntsmen.” WELP. Atlas is well and truly fucked if THAT is the best the can bring to the table. 

...Oh fuck, its Ash. Its Ash as a green-eyed angry teenager. Mixed with Tabloid from Ace Combat 7. 

Actually no, he’s a LOT more childish than Ash. Ash has history, this guy just has a boner for Robyn. Robin? IDK. 

Sigh. “Happy Huntress’s.” GREAATTTTT. Fuckin’ Robin Hood bullshit. I get this is Remnant but come on. And apperently Mantle cant even have people stand up for itself, no, they have to come from ATLAS. Mehh. Fuck it. 

New airship design! Its basically a flying box, but hey. Least we get a new one.  Henceforth I shall call it the Cattlecar.

Okay not going to lie but Atlas looks like High Charity kinda. Glowing spires, tight city blocks...its pretty cool, actually.  And it looks like they literally build the city into the moutain and then...ripped the mountain out of Mantle. Wonder when that happened. Was that the result of a mistake during a Dust RnD test? Also, calling it now, but this is how Fortress Academy looks. Except inside the mountain. 

Nora is still trying to eat her way out of her bolo handcuffs. 

And now, Atlas Academy; literally a giant fucking tower surrounded by OTHER towers. Top of the fucking rock. I gotta admit that fits the feeling of it, really. Dear Biased RWBY Gods LET IT HAVE TRIPLE-A

Atlas trooper armor hasn’t changed a bit. 

And I see that Atlas takes rules from the Forerunners of Halo; NO FUCKING RAILINGS ANYWHERE. I wonder how often people fall off the sides by accident...

Oh good Penny’s here! And HOLY SHIT ITS WINTER! SHES NOT DEAD! Also Atlas’s room doors all look like they have protculus’s on them.

REALLY Winter? Fucking with the grunts? Come on, their lifes bad enough as it is, don’t go the military route...

Soft daddy Ironwood. Cute. Also, nice fucking office. 

Penny looks adorable when she stands at attention. I mean everything she does is cute but... Also is Ironwoods voice different? Must not have heard it in a while but it sounds different...

Yes. Shut up and accept the hug Winter. ACCEPT. THE. HUG.

Good. Penny and Winter are in on this. THAT means others are...and so’s the Helljumpers. 

Yang, you dont know how the fuck this works, do you? Come on.  Also, RT, your Autin-fueled liberal side is showing...

Fucking super dramatic window closing and rising floor. This is what happens when your up in the cold north with nothing to do, HA. 

A new approach...oh my god. Open warfare? PLEASE TELL ME ITS OPEN WARFARE. NUKE SALEM!

Also oh hey there’s the Colloseum. Does that mean its officially Atlas’s to keep? Huh. 

Holy shit, someone figured out to rebuild the CCTS! It only took them...a year and a half, give or take? New ones mobile too... WEAPONIZE IT. Gun emplacements, military defenses, barracades, Triple-A! Make that fucking flying sports arena into a BATTLESHIP. 

GIVE REMNANT A PHALANX!

HOLY SHIT THEY’RE DOING IT! LOW ORBIT SATELLITE COMS! FUCKING AT LAST!

Ohhh. OH FUCK YES. IRONWOOD YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARD! YES! LETS SEE THAT SLIMY FUCKIN BACKSTABBY BITCH GET OUT OF THIS! AN ENTIRE WORLD REUNITED AGAINST HER! HUMAN WAVE ATTACKS, MASS ASSAULTS, AIR POWER AND COMS...IRONWOOD YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARD, DO IT!

That being said though this...seems kind of intense.  Also the whole “revealing Salem will cause panic” is...odd to me. I would think Remnant would be MAD. Vengeful. Yes that could bring Grimm, but when you have reason to fight, your morale is high. You fight harder than you have before. Thats the first rule of any military. Give the people an enemy, and they will rally. The Queen of Grimm, the cause of all your sorrows and frustrations...people will be grabbing rifles by the MILLIONS.

Oscars like “oh, well...shit.”

(Headdesks) NOTHING pisses me off more than seeing the General of FUCKING ATLAS bowing to a fucking SHOTA.  DO NOT KNEEL BEFORE THE FUCKING SMALL FARM BOY. YOU ARE A FUCKING GENERAL. I DO NOT CARE IF HE IS OZPIN REINCARNATE SHOW YOUR FUCKING RANK SOME RESPECT. Yes I know its becuse Oscar is like 4 feet shorter than him BUT STILL

Penny probably knows Ruby’s lying about the lamp. If she can’t read biometric data, I’ll be incredibly shocked. 

On that, something tells me Ruby’s making sure Ironwood cant figure out whats going on himself. Shes taking some control back. Good. 

We’ll make a soldier out of you yet farmboi.

Weird magic shape-changing lamp. Woooo

OH YES. IRONWOODS BRINGING OUT THE UPGRADES. OH FUCK YES

Yang’s response is my own. Mind you it’ll still be...Hunter tech. But hey, good shit.

Oh hey look its Olivia’s long-lost sister. Also when humor requires it, Ruby fully becomes a cartoon character

Wolf faunus. Hm. These really are Ace Ops. Aseops. Cute.  Hope they dont ALL die.

Penny can cha-cha-slide

Ironwood; Qrow (Decends the stairs to “Here comes the general” from Hamilton)

...Hes hugging Qrow. AND THATS HOW YOU GET DEATH DISEASE PEOPLE

Fucking hell this place is gigantic. I thought Beacon had a big campus, this is fucking bonkers.  Everythings white too though which might not be the best choice...also the wall lights are literally torches just like on Atlas’s kingdom emblem so.

Noras down. Quick, no one glance up her skirt

Rain in Mantle. Hmm. Must be melted snow from above.

Watts walks like a fucking gentleman. Like, damn dude, slouch a little. 

Ear-coms. COMBEAD? Perhaps...good they’re canon, thats enough for me. 

Im pretty sure I can hear tyrian killing a dude in the background of his call.

None of the code was updated in Mantle. Well, fucking great, Watts has control of the entire area. He’s literally fuckin Adrien from Watch_Dogs. Even down to the “I helped write it” Also some of those cars look seriously armored. I like it. 

Yep he just killed a dude. Actually I think this is the first time we’ve seen proper blood in the show. Someones gonna notice that Tyrian you know that right

And with that...Episode 2 down.