#thank you again for the ask it has truly been a much nicer way to spend my morning

[aidanchaser]

hi!! for the drabble game, 17? 🎄💗

thank you <3 getting to open my ask box to treats and reply with gifts is a helpful way to spend my morning

I wanted to do something felix and adrien related because I adored your twin telepathy fic but 17's a very romantic song so we're recalibrating:

Her eyes and words are so icy Oh but she burns

The winter morning drifts in through the open balcony. Her shoulder, bared to the world, is cold like marble against his palm, but beneath the sheets her legs slide against his as smoothly and warmly as last night's wine.

The kisses have abated; the warmth has not.

"You don't have to go back," Félix whispers, afraid that if he breaks the silence he will break this moment between them. He reaches for her hand.

Kagami climbs out of bed and reaches for her dress. Her tone is cold, but her words burn in his chest. "You don't have to run."

And it's worth it, it's divine I have this some of the time --Cherry Wine, Hozier

[iiwaijime]

sunshine princess — k. tsukishima

tsukishima has always cared for you, but will he ever be brave enough to show it?

cws; angst, fluff, happy ending, kissing, fem!reader, petnames, arranged marriage to lovers, mentions of infidelity, swearing, not proofread i think thats all

wc; 2055

you're eighteen, freshly graduated when your parents tell you about their plans; nineteen when you meet tsukishima kei. he is calm, confident, and self-assured, a complete opposite of you — you're wondering whether it's possible to survive a fall from a skyscraper. not that you'd ever actually do it, of course.

the wedding happens a week before you turn twenty, and that night, tsukishima has the grace to at least pretend to not notice as you cry yourself to sleep. when you've almost dozed off, you hear him stumble out of bed and walk away. you wonder if he has a girlfriend, another partner, someone he truly loves, someone you're keep him away from. the freezer opens and closes. the prospect of you coming between two people too jarring to think about, so you try not to, and you are asleep when he gets back to bed.

the next morning, you're mortified at your appearance in the mirror, eyes red and puffy — much worse than expected, too. no wonder tsukishima had looked at you like that. oh, shit. you're a tsukishima too, now. you turn around, preparing to go to the kitchen to look for an ice pack — you don't remember seeing one, but it still gives you something to do instead of hating yourself and him and your entire life. when you're maybe halfway there, you bump into your new husband. he hasn't been expecting to see you here either, freezing in place with a couple of spoons in one hand. wait, spoons?

he holds them out to you awkwardly, brows furrowing as you stare at him. "what? take them, my fingers are getting cold."

you finally find your voice. "what for?"

"your eyes?" he says it like it's obvious. "i put them in the freezer last night."

oh. oh.

"t-thank you," you stammer, snatching them out of his hands, rushing back to the bathroom. maybe things aren't that bad after all.

living with tsukishima means you have to learn quickly that words are not enough — words are never enough. the first few days, it's difficult for you. when you cook something hoping he'll like it, and all you get is a cursory good, a distracted not bad.

it hurts, really hurts at first. you don't even want to be here, and the lack of appreciation makes it so much worse. that is, until, he invites his best friend, tadashi yamaguchi, over for dinner.

the two of you get along much easier than you expect — he's a complete opposite of your husband. when tsukishima is away from the table, he asks about the recipes. he's heard great things about your cooking, he says. tsukki will not shut up.

"i thought he didn't like it," you say. yamaguchi laughs at that, and that day you find out that with tsukishima, you have to look deeper than just words. you have to notice the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his appreciative hums, and the way he takes second helping and sometimes even thirds.

and then one day he approaches you, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. he clears his throat, runs one hand through his already messy blonde hair, clears his throat again. he fixes his glasses as you stare up at him expectantly. "yes?"

"canyoumakesomemorestrawberryshortcake."

"what?"

"strawberry shortcake," he gets out through gritted teeth. oh, you realise. he's embarrassed. "can you make some mo—"

"of course!" you reply before he can finish, trying to spare him the humiliation. on second though, this does mean he likes what you make. life is suddenly a little bit nicer.

tsukishima (willingly) holds your hand for the first time on your first anniversary. you refer to him as kei, now, and he doesn't really mind either. he thinks it's pretty, the way you say it. but he'll never tell you that, of course. he buys you your favourite flowers, even though it's not supposed to be a special date, because you're only married because your parents made you.

you hold the bouquet with one hand. "kei, you didn't have to!"

"i wanted to," he shrugs. "you're not the worst person to do this with."

"oh," you sigh, and the smile on your face is real, so real, and so is the way his lips quirk up — a small movement, but it's there nonetheless. "you too, kei."

you turn to go put the flowers in a vase when he grabs your wrist, pulling you back gently. his hand slots perfectly into yours, and he gives it an experimental squeeze. you squeeze back, and his thumb brushes over the back of your hand. "i mean it, y/n."

"i know." it's hard to suppress the grin that's trying to take over your face as you say it. "me too."

handholding becomes normal after that, whether he's holding onto you in the midst of a crowd, or the two of you are at home and he's playing with your fingers lazily. sometimes kei's doing something on his phone — he uses it one-handed, even if it makes things more difficult or slows down his typing — and your hand is in his other one. your hands might lie in the space between the two of you, fingers tangled together, or maybe he's tracing shapes, letters, words onto your palm — whatever comes to mind. either way, you like it. you like him.

nowadays, he even kisses you(r cheek) goodbye before work, and if he's extra tired after, he finds himself melting into you. your presence itself comforts him, your existence a soothing hand over his brow. he hopes you don't mind where this is going.

spoiler alert: you don't.

you've just poured yourself a cup of coffee when your husband walks into the kitchen, rubbing at his bleary eyes. he looks like he's just gotten out of bed and come here. there's something different about him that you cannot quite place, so you ignore it, half-turning to face him. "morning."

"g'morning," kei responds. his morning voice is low, rough as he walks up to where you're situated between the counter and the kitchen island. his hand falls to your waist easily as he moves you out of his way to stand behind you. his chin rests on your shoulder as he stifles a yawn. "i want some too."

you hand him your cup and he hums gratefully after taking a sip. putting it back on the counter, he wraps his arms around your waist. his body curves over yours as he lets go of himself. the weight is comforting as it blankets you — maybe the two of you can stay like this forever. you relax into the back hug; he nudges your head with his. "can't find m'glasses."

oh. so that's what's missing.

"i'll help you find them," you suggest, not questioning his rather... clingy attitude today. it's been well over two years since the two of you got married, and while he has told you on multiple occasions that you can see whoever you want, your moral code is still not low enough to partake in what can basically be termed as infidelity. even if the marriage is arranged, and there are no feelings involved — that's a lie, you know by now that you've definitely fallen for your husband, and hard — you still don't want to do anything of that sort, which has lead to you becoming quite touch-starved over time. so when tsukishima started becoming more and more physically affectionate as of late, you didn't dare question it, savouring every moment instead. over time, it's gone from fleeting touches and hooking his pinkie around yours while he tries to look unbothered, to much more confident hugs and handholding. essentially, everything a couple can do together — except kissing.

that's not to say you don't want to kiss him; you really do. when you see him chewing on his bottom lip, lost in thought, you want to kiss him. when you see him lick his lips while playing volleyball at all the games that he's started inviting you to now, even from afar you want to kiss him. and when one of his old friends from high school texts him about something stupid and his lips turn up into a pout without him noticing, you definitely want to kiss him.

but you digress.

it takes a two-minute search to find them on the floor by the bed; the floor by your side of the bed no less. the covers are more messy than you remember, even though you're sure you fixed up your part of the bed. the blankets are messy, pillows squished. the only way it could possibly be this way is if someone had been rolling around and also hugging your pillows.

you and tsukki live alone. you don't have any pets. you didn't do anything, and tsukki definitely would not — would he?

"why're you even out of bed so early?" you ask him as he falls back onto the covers. "you don't have work today."

kei flushes — actually flushes, a pretty red hue spreading across his face as he thinks of an answer. "you... weren't there," he says carefully.

"i see." your reply is just as cautious as you test the waters; after all, this is the first time whatever the two of you have going on between you has emerged from where it was comfortingly held captive in words left unspoken. "well, i'm here now."

"good," he says, and there's the slightest hint of a smile playing about his lips as he pats the space beside him. "c'mere."

oh dear. you really are sleepy, aren't you? maybe you shouldn't have gotten up this early either.

this time, you're the one waking up alone in bed — fortunately, too, because extricating yourself from the ridiculous pile of limbs that the two of you become every night is one of the least favourite parts of your day.

you find him pacing around the living room, phone held up to his ear. "that's not fucking working, tadashi! she's my wife, i can't just tell her that!"

his eyes meet yours; you raise a brow. tsukishima looks like a deer caught in headlights, before he cuts the call and puts his phone down. "hi."

"hi," you respond. anxiety twists in your stomach, a dark creature from an inky pool that crawls out and takes all of you. "what can't you just tell me?"

"nothing." it comes out too fast, and he knows he's fucked up by saying it.

"o-oh." you take it brilliantly, in stride. "well, are you having an affair, or something?"

you try to play it off as a joke, but the fear and insecurity is pathetically apparent in your voice. "i don't mind if you are—"

"i'm not!"

"it's totally okay if you are! that was part of our agreement, right?"

kei groans. he's not sure whether he should be put off or attracted by the way you're hell-bent on lying your way through this. "i swear i'm not, y/n."

"then?"

he swallows harshly. oh well, now it never. "come sit?"

you comply quietly. if not an affair, then what? technically, it doesn't count as one, you have to admit. but still, what was all of that affection for, then? to soften the blow?

"i like you," he whispers. his hands twist around each other nervously, knuckles white. "i know this is weird because we're fucking married, but i do—"

"okay," you breathe. "okay, me too."

you've thought about kissing kei tsukishima way more than you should. and when his tongue slips out to wet his grinning lips and his hand brushes your hair away and splays out to hold your face in one fluid motion, you especially want to do that. so you do.

you like being in love with him. when the two of you are glued together, when he absentmindedly traces iloveyous onto your palm, when he draws hearts on your shoulders with his thumbs. when he becomes much more vocal about how much he loves you, exactly. now, you even get to hear him say it out loud.

"i love you," he says, kissing your pajama-clad shoulder. "my sunshine princess."

"fuck's that?" you ask him, laughing, but you like it all the same.

"you're that," he replies, and refuses to elaborate.

as it turns out, you like him being in love with you too.

been on that married couple shit lately thanks mom ig. my parents also used to call me somethinf along the lines of sunshine/little miss sunshine when i was a kid bc i was so happy. not so me now but ill take it:)

chest hurts when i inhale like stopppp.

anyways 2:30am so i'll sleep now. lot of care, take love.

also ive been stuck at 499 for hours now so what should i do for 500

tags !! @akaakeis + @smiithys (gen taglist open!!)

[bbunisre]

17: ALWAYS BEEN YOU (0.8k)

Besides being affectionate and caring, Tsumiki is your best friend and there is no better way to prove it than right now. After bidding the Uber driver a quiet gratitude, you escape the car to find yourself in front of Tsumiki’s house rather than your own.

The driver the second you close the door, leaving you to attend to your business.

The door opens before you can even knock on it.

“Tsumiki..."

She holds you in her arms for so long in the doorway

"You okay, kid?"

You look back to see Gojo standing there, arms crossed and in his pajamas, looking at you with a placid concern.

"I'm alright. Thanks for letting me in." you tell the two.

"Of course. You're family." Gojo answers.

"I figured you wouldn't wanna stay alone tonight." Tsumiki adds.

"You know me so well."

She smiles before ushering you in, "Let's get you to bed. It's been too long."

As Tsumiki brings you to bed, you can't help but be grateful for her. You're so lucky to have someone who truly cares for you and a place to go to when something goes wrong—whether it be a crazy ex or an argument at your own home.

Tsumiki gives you a pair of pyjamas and you use the spare toothbrush in her bathroom before getting into her queen-sized bed like it's your own.

"I'll be back in thirty minutes. I just got some cleaning to do."

You nod, "Thanks again."

"Don't worry. We can talk about Choso when I'm back... I'll get Gojo's wine for you."

You laugh as she leaves you alone in the bedroom.

Minutes pass.

There's a particular emptiness within the house you don't like, a sense of comfort you're too used to and its presence has been made quiet.

Where is it when you need it?

The door opens quietly and in comes a slowly moving figure, rummaging through Tsumiki's desk. He notices when you sit up.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you, I was looking for..." he pauses, watching the way you stare at him so avidly, an unfamiliarity swimming in your eyes, "Are you okay? I heard what happened."

Megumi sits at the edge of Tsumiki's bed as you remain sitting up, staring at him.

The only thing illuminating the room is the light that seeps in through the ajar door from the hallway, casting a halo-like glow on Megumi's face.

You forget completely what happened with Choso the moment Megumi tampered with your thoughts.

There's a pull in your chest, "I'm alright. I'm glad i got out of there because he was going to talk to me and I just couldn't be there. He was making me uncomfortable."

"I don't understand why he couldn't take 'no' as an answer. You already told him you didn't want to talk to him."

You nod, "Exactly. He doesn't care. He just wants me so he has something to control again."

Megumi sighs.

"How's it been with you?" you ask, changing the subject.

"I've been up all night trying to finish an assignment."

Megumi's like a blank canvas compared to Choso's tainted one—it feels wrong talking to Megumi about Choso. It was like you were bringing the contamination of Choso into Megumi and that didn't feel right.

You want to start again.

"Mhm. Which subject?"

You deserve to start again.

"History."

There's no better person to start again with than Megumi.

"It wasn't an accident, was it, Megumi?" you ask.

"Sorry?" he asks.

You softly smile, "That night. At Panda's party when you confessed to me."

Silence.

Megumi stares at you blankly and for a second, you doubt yourself but there's no way he doesn't like you. He confessed drunkenly, he's there for you every second and he looks at you with those eyes.

Even with a blank stare from Megumi, it's like your whole body is on fire.

"It was an accident," he admits, looking away. suddenly, Tsumiki's girl group posters are nicer to look at, "I've had a crush on you for so long, Y/N."

It's like you've been set on fire.

"Really?"

Yyes...do you feel the same way?" he looks up at you.

"How can i say no?"

A smile.

Megumi smiles.

As much as you want to reach out and hug him, you refrain, knowing Tsumiki could be just around the corner.

"I've wanted this for so long."

You open your mouth to say something but you're immediately interrupted by the door opening.

"Megumi! Why are you bothering Y/N?!"

You laugh out loud, surprised she's suddenly there, "Yeah, why are you bothering me?"

He does his best to mask his smile and inevitably fails.

"Out!" Tsumiki scolds.

Megumi makes his way to the door, giving you one last look before disappearing. Tsumiki locks the door behind her and switches on the flash on her phone.

"Got the wine."

For the first time in a long time, you don't feel like drinking. Instead, you feel soft.

Megumi's made you soft.

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[avonne-writes]

Your hs au college head canons sound sooooo angsty and good! I can’t wait to see what you do with them! While I was reading them, I couldn’t help but picturing like a scene where they each separately are talking with their new fiends who basically say something like “I’m surprised you two are together, you don’t seem like you are right for each other” which would add doubts for both of them because they are so used to people thinking they are such a perfect and sweet couple. And of course feeling those doubts causes more tension. And of course these friends only feel this way because they haven’t truly seen their relationship, only the way it’s been during this transition time. Ugh I love this kind of angst! Of course, only if it has a happy ending!

Hi dear! Thank you, I’m glad you like the headcanons.

Great addition, this 100% happens. Gale's friends would phrase it similarly to how you did, politely. They would go on to tell Gale that this happens to most high school sweethearts, and that a break-up doesn’t mean that the previous ~4 years were not meaningful or that they're bad memories. They try to comfort Gale. But they're not without fault either, because like you said, they don't know John and Gale's relationship super well and they see mostly the struggles in that first semester, so they encourage Gale to break up. They try to talk him down from investing more effort into the relationship.

But Bucky gets the short end of the stick here.

His social circle is made up mostly of his teammates. As you can imagine, some of those can be rude and extremely crass, boasting about their conquests and being hurtful out of mere ignorance. These guys would regularly poke fun at Bucky for the fact that he has never had sex with anyone but Gale. They'd say things like "don’t you wanna dip it somewhere else" and "how do you even know you're bi when you haven't even tried pussy". If he wants to skip a party, they whistle and boo at him that the missus has him whipped (this isn’t exclusive to him, they do it with everyone who goes home). Some might even try to comment on Gale, about his prettiness and how they'd tap that too. They think this is being inclusive but Bucky snaps and there's an altercation, and it takes a few days before the team dynamics reset again.

These are not Bucky's friends, just teammates. His actual friends within the team are much nicer, but they also echo some of the same sentiments. "Don’t you feel like you're missing out on something?" Bucky tries to keep most of this from Gale and he's not comfortable discussing his sex life with his mom, so the whole thing builds up in him. It doesn’t help that due to their issues, he and Gale don’t have sex that often or it just feels a bit off.

When he and Gale make up after their big fight, he tells Gale everything. Since this is exactly Gale's insecurity, Gale - much more gently this time than during the fight - tells him that he doesn’t want to hold Bucky back. It clearly pains him, but he even offers to do an open relationship for a while. But Bucky doesn’t want that, and he says it too. He snuggles close to Gale and basically just asks him to reassure him that it's okay not to want that. That it's okay to be with only one person and that they'll work on making sure neither of them regrets it in the future.

Gale is very pessimistic and thinks that's impossible, but at that point, he wants to help Bucky relax and he has the selfish desire to say yes too, so he tells Bucky that it's okay and that they will figure everything out. Ultimately, they do figure it out every time they struggle with something related to this, so Gale’s pessimistic fears don’t come true. And their sex life improves drastically after the fight. It’s the best it has ever been.

[writingoddess1125]

Why do you post so many pregancy stuff? odd-

So I get this question a lot- And thank you for being nicer in asking then others.. Sorta-

The Short Answer:

I have a mild Breeding Kink/Major Possession Kink which locks in with wanting a partner I 100% trust.

These stories are just my personal fantasies.

Long answer:

I write my desires of security and having someone I trust with my heart and soul to the point were I trust then with my body.

While I have no desires to get pregnant in the near future the imaginings that I love and trust someone that much to allow a thing is nice for me. So for someone like me who has never been intimate in my 20+ years by choice due to the fact I have to truly trust a person these fics are sort of my own personal fantasies of what I want like.

I want a partner I trust so much that I'd allow these things, submit to them and allow these acts with. I love the idea of sex and extreme Intimacy like how I write for my characters.

I want characters like Buggy, Mihawk and Ghost who I can trust 1000% and could think of something like this for. Someone that can hold me and protect me from the storms outside even for just a moment-

Conclusion:

The reason I wrote this to begin with is that I've gotten a lot of ask for this exact thing- Most fairly rude in the way they ask or accusing me of having some political motive behind it- Which isn't the case at all.

These are just a written representation of my own personal kinks and wants. Nothing more. Please do not bombard my Ask again with rude things like this or accusations.

Thank you

[karniss-bg3]

I just want to add to the last ask, it's so hard to figure out Kar'niss actual alignment because he is given so little space for his own personality to show. He is being used for a cause and his mind was messed with to align with that cause. He was cast out by one horrible cult and before he could go through any phase of self discovery (cause, you know, a cult barely leaves space for that) he was snatched by another cult. It's pretty safe to say that there was no space in his life to ever figure out what HE wants.

Following the Absolute he pretty much has his sense of self entirely tied to that. And it's so tragic. There is no room for anything else and given that nobody bothers to interact with him on a normal level, it's truly all he has left.

I found it quite frustrating that upon meeting him we can't even talk to him in peace without being interrupted by someone else in almost every conversation choice.

He's not treated like a person by anyone really. They say horrible things either straight to him or so loudly that he'd definitely hear it. And those who don't simply are too afraid, like Kansif who can't even look him in the eyes.

And yet, if you talk to him in the few moments where you actually get to do so without being interrupted, there's not a single meanspirited thing coming from his side towards the player.

He's very very mentally ill and disturbed, but he's not a rabid animal that will attack unprovoked.

Every time he gets angry, there's a reason for it that could have been avoided. Like people not listening to what he told them and the 'compliments' you can give him as a Dark Urge aren't really compliments. You can't call someone beautiful and an abomination in the same sentence and expect them to be happy. And when you ask him if you can look at the lantern it's also so ... idk, it's icky. You do it in a way as if you already assume you can. It's like as if someone I just met wants to inspect my phone and assumes it's gonna be fine, I'd also be like wtf?? No?

If we had the option to interact more with him and overall be nicer and more considerate I'm sure some things would play out very differently.

And I think if given the chance he'd have one of the most interesting and emotionally intense romance routes in the game.

There is SO much to unpack. There is so much to work through, but also so much potential for an amazing outcome. Or something deeply tragic. Either way, I'm sure it would leave an impact and it could be great. But his story would need a lot of time to make it work, and it needs to be handled very delicately. He's not like a quick fling you can just write into the game, like for example the drow twins. I can barely imagine anything more cruel than giving him a bit of actual affection and a connection outside of the Absolute and then just leaving him behind and taking it away again.

So I personally think the most we can realistically hope for is a few interactions where we can at least NOT be rude or outright awful to him.

But maybe the devs will surprise us and figure out a way to let us bring him along. I'd honestly be so insanely happy. I really want something good for him. He is one of those characters who feels the least deserving of the fate and treatment he got and it's so heartbreaking.

I love this response, no notes to really add. This sums it up in a solid way. I'll always hope for better options in terms of Kar'niss, side character be damned. We love who we love, can't help that!

Thanks for the response!

[sophie1973]

Bloodstream - Chapter 3

Here it is, chapter 3 of Bloodstream.

You can read on AO3, or under the cut.

Thank you so much Lauren @ash-morrison for the beautiful moodboard.

London, Drury Lane, September 1885

Alex Claremont-Diaz is nervous.

Never mind that he is a grown man of 28 years old (forever, although not by choice) and a big, scary vampire (He’s not. Nora says he’s a big Teddy Bear trapped in a vampire’s body. She’s not wrong.)

Tonight, he’s meeting Arthur Fox.

Or so he hopes.

He, June, and Nora saw him onstage when they spent a few months in London 15 years ago. After a decade in Boston—where June landed a position at a prestigious journal, and Alex settled for a mundane job at a small law firm—their eternal youth, conspicuous, drew too much attention. So, once more, they packed their bags and left.

Back to England.

This time, though, Alex doesn't quite feel the usual pang of regret at leaving it all behind.

Again.

It’s not that he enjoyed third-wheeling his sister and her partner, but she had been adamant he would come with them to England and not stay behind on his own in America.

He had not protested, understanding his sister's insistence and the importance of this new chapter in their lives.

Upon settling in London, one of his initial endeavors was procuring tickets for Drury Lane, specifically for the upcoming performance starring Arthur Fox in King Lear. Alex had also caught wind of a post-show tradition: Arthur occasionally emerged from the backdoor to distribute signed photographs to his admirers.

June and Nora had come to see the performance but had declined the backdoor. Arthur Fox was married to a slayer in one of the most prominent lines, so they were not keen on getting too close.

Not that Arthur Fox would be able to guess what they were, but whatever, Alex was still taking that opportunity. Obviously, it would be nicer to share his excitement with someone, but it is what it is. Vampirism was only a good basis for long-lasting friendships if you were lucky to meet and bond with another vampire sharing the same interests as you. Still, unfortunately, those were mostly keeping to themselves and not exactly shouting their condition over the rooftops. 

He had made his peace with that. Mostly.

So here he is now, at the backdoor, his heart pounding with eagerness and nervousness, eagerly waiting amongst a few other people for Arthur to appear, exchange a few words with him, and even - if Alex is lucky - shake his hand. He is surprised that there is not a bigger crowd, but it is all the better for him to get a few extra minutes with the great actor.

Discreetly, he wipes his damp palms on his pants.

The door opens, and Arthur appears, all golden hair and a roguish grin. Alex has never been sold on the eternal life schtick, but if it allowed him to live an extra 40 years to enjoy this moment, it was probably worth it.

Arthur steps forward, his presence commanding and his smile captivating. Alex, his heart racing, tries to maintain composure, suppressing the urge to giggle like a virgin debutante as Arthur asks for his name.

“Alex Claremont-Diaz. It is very nice to meet you,” he introduces himself, proud of his steady voice even though he is screaming inside.

“Lovely to meet you too, Alex. Did you enjoy the play?”

This is the moment Alex has been yearning for, a chance to delve into his profound admiration for the play, to share his thoughts, impressions, and interpretations of the scenes and the source material.

Arthur doesn’t interrupt him, even listen rapturously, until Alex catches the bored face of his assistant behind him and stops talking.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a sheepish laugh. “I have this habit of going on a tangent when talking about things I’m passionate about. Feel free to shut me up and send me on my way anytime.”

Arthur's smile widens, his eyes reflecting genuine interest. “No need for apologies, Alex. I would never dream of silencing such a unique perspective. Your insights on the play are truly fascinating.”

And Alex falls a little bit in love.

Arthur turns to the assistant to get a photograph, but the young man shows his empty hands. “I’m sorry, we ran out.”

Alex feels slightly disappointed but knows he's already taken too much time. Nevertheless, he still gets to have an entire conversation with Arthur Fox, which makes him feel incredibly fortunate.

“Oh, that will not do at all,” Arthur protests. “I know I have some left in my dressing room. Why don’t you come with me? You mentioned you saw Much Ado About Nothing a few years ago. What do you think of the conversation between Claudio and Don John at the masked ball in Act 2?”

To his utter astonishment, Alex finds himself following Arthur Fox through the corridors of Drury Lane, chatting about one of his absolute favorite plays.

He can't believe this is his fucking life.

Upon entering the dressing room, they find themselves engrossed in a lively discussion about the characters and happy endings in Shakespeare's plays.

Arthur swiftly grabs a photograph, scribbles his signature, and passes it to Alex.

"Thank you so much," Alex gushes with gratitude.

"Your insights are truly appreciated. It's heartening to know that even within the vampire community, dear old William finds admirers," Arthur remarks with an innocent grin as if he hasn't just dropped a bombshell at Alex's feet.

Fuck. Blindly following Arthur Fox, especially given his marital connections, might not have been the wisest decision after all.

"How?" Alex inquires, unable to conceal his concern. Not that he believes Arthur will suddenly drive a stake through his chest. Sure, being staked by his favorite actor would carry a certain poetic irony, but he hasn't anticipated his sorry existence ending tonight.

Arthur smiles and nods to Alex’s right hand. "Your daylight ring. I'm a Wizard, Alex. I've supplied a few of your kind with those."

Alex hesitates, processing the information before a quirky thought bubbles to the surface: "How does that sit with your mother-in-law?"

With a crinkle of his nose followed by a chuckle, Alex responds, "Let's just say she's not exactly a Shakespeare enthusiast nor an enthusiast of mine. But we have an understanding, and I try not to let her poison my kid’s brains.." He gestures proudly to the family photos adorning the wall. "Meet Philip, Beatrice, and the youngest, Henry," he says, a loving look in his eyes as Alex lingers a bit on the last photograph of a beautiful young man, all blond eyes and clear eyes, a soft smile on his plump lips. A small mole is on the upper right of his mouth, and Alex is strangely fascinated by it.

“I should head home to them now. Do you need someone to escort you back?"

"No need," Alex assures him. "Thanks again. It's been a pleasure."

Arthur smiles genuinely, extending a handshake. "The pleasure's mine, Alex. Perhaps our paths will cross again."

"If you ever find yourself performing in America, I'll be in the front row. Take care, Mr. Fox."

Exiting the dressing room, Alex's mind buzzes with excitement, eager to share the encounter with June and Nora.

******

London, Mountchristen-Windsor residence, Mars 1888

Philip has a bad feeling about this meeting.

It’s not unusual for their grandmother to call them into her office to discuss slaying business, but something feels different this time. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but he generally trusts his instincts.

After all, they’ve kept him alive in the field all these years.

It’s why he never revealed to his grandmother that the woman he recently married is a witch.

It’s not that he thinks she could hurt Martha or worse. Her magical practices have dwindled to innocuous potions and healing arts, but he’s not blind or stupid, and he notices how Gran sometimes looks at his father.

It’s not a pleasant look.

It's much like the one she’s wearing now, her face stern and closed off, her gaze piercing and frigid. She’s not a warm woman by any stretch, but something about her demeanor sets off all kinds of alarms in Philip’s head.

Judging by how Henry and Beatrice sit rigidly together on the settee, he’s not alone in his thoughts.

Mary sits behind her desk, looking like a headmistress about to severely punish her unruly pupils.

“It has come to my attention that Henry is spending time with Percy Okonjo.”

Philip’s stomach drops as he turns to his younger brother, whose already pale complexion has gone ashen. He purses his lips and lowers his gaze to his lap as Beatrice releases a soft gasp.

None of this escapes Mary’s attention.

Philip gestures towards Mary, trying to divert her attention while giving Henry a moment to collect himself. "Percy Okonjo comes from a well-respected lineage and is involved in numerous charitable endeavors. He recently inaugurated a new orphanage in Brooklyn."

Mary shoots him a piercing glare. "But he's also a vampire. How did you come to know him?"

"He's not a malevolent vampire," Philip argues, though Mary's expression suggests his efforts are futile. "We run in the same circles. Mom and Dad supported his orphanage initiative, and—" He cuts himself off mid-sentence because he knows he made a mistake just as the words are out.

How bad of a mistake he doesn’t know yet, but the look on Mary’s face doesn’t bode well.

The tension in the room heightens as Mary's gaze narrows. "Is that so?"

He doesn’t answer, a sour feeling crawling at the base of his stomach.

“There are no good or bad vampires, Philip. They are just filthy creatures, and it is our duty to get rid of them, no matter what they look like. Henry is not supposed to engage in any way with them, and he knows better than that, which is extremely disappointing.”

Realizing the futility of further discussion, Philip refrains from elaborating, wary of drawing Mary's ire or endangering Henry further.

Henry, silent until now, betrays his discomfort through tense posture and flushed cheeks. Philip senses his brother's simmering anger just beneath the surface.

“Am I being clear, Henry?”

“Perfectly clear, Gran,” Henry replies. The tone is dry, but thankfully, Mary doesn’t call him on it. 

“I hope so. I would hate to have to take matters into my own hands.” 

The threat is limpid, even ominous, and with one last warning look, she leaves the room, leaving the three of them in various states of shock and confusion.

“Fuck,” Philip mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose and ignoring the surprised looks his siblings throw at him. Indeed, he doesn’t swear often, and certainly not in front of them, but the situation seems to require it.

“She certainly did not seem happy to know about Mom and Dad’s involvement with Percy,” Bea says, her voice quivering slightly and her complexion drained of its usual color. 

“I should have kept my mouth shut, but I honestly thought she knew. Which, in retrospect, is a bit daft on my part,” Philip sighs.

“It’s alright, Pip. You were trying to defend me. Besides, it’s not like they hid anything. It’s only because I spent time with him that she took notice, and we all know why,” Henry chimes in, his face closed and somber. 

Bea reaches for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.“I’m not sure what offends her the most: that you would shag a man, that he is black, or that he is a vampire.”

“Bea,” Philip chastises her half-heartedly, but when he hears Henry’s soft laugh, he lets out one too. “Probably all three.”

“So,” he adds, “I don’t want to sound alarmist, but I still think we should warn Percy. Just to be on the safe side.”

Beatrice’s eyes widen. “You think she could….? I know Percy is not a peerage member, but he is still a prominent name in society. His…disappearance would definitely cause some stir.” 

"It pains me to admit it, but I believe she could. And she will. I don't want to dwell on the negative possibilities," Philip emphasizes, noticing Henry's distressed expression. "But it's Gran."

"I suppose we should exercise more caution for a while. Percy mentioned expanding the shelters to America; perhaps it's the right time. Like you, I can't trust Gran to remain passive, even if Percy and I no longer cross paths," Henry murmurs softly, clearly disturbed by the thought of parting ways with his closest friend. Philip senses Henry blaming himself for inadvertently involving Percy in their predicament.

"It's just a precaution; I'm sure everything will turn out fine," Philip reassures, though he doubts his own words. Yet, seeing Henry and Bea's tension ease slightly, he feels relief despite deceiving them.

Philip has always trusted his instincts, and the fact that he has been so catastrophically right about them will haunt him for the rest of his days.

Two weeks later, Arthur Fox is found dead in an alley behind Drury Lane, allegedly the victim of a random mugging.

Six weeks later, with the help of Percy, who made arrangements from across the pond, Philip puts his siblings on a ship to America, wishing desperately it won’t be the last he will see of them.

**********

Brooklyn, Prospect Park, April 1891

The situation isn't exactly dire, but with four vampires closing in on Henry, the odds aren't exactly in his favor. However, as they say in America, this isn't his first rodeo. (It's amusing how you pick up expressions when you befriend a Texan vampire with ridiculously long eyelashes, but that's beside the point right now.)

Henry swiftly dispatches two vampires (not that he's boasting). Dealing with the third requires a bit more effort, but he handles it easily (again, not boasting). As he prepares to face the fourth, stake at the ready, the vampire vanishes in a cloud of dust, revealing another vampire with glossy dark curls and an infuriating smirk.

“You’re welcome, your Majesty.”

Henry's heart skips a beat at the warmth in that voice and the mischief in those brown eyes, cursing the effect it always holds on him.  

“I was handling the situation. But I have manners, so thank you, I suppose.”

“Where’s Beatrice?”

“At home. She was feeling a bit under the weather.” 

Alex frowns. “Oh. Will she be alright?”

“Just a migraine. I’ll send her your regards. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

There is no sarcasm in his voice, but Alex raises his hands defensively. “Hey, your sister likes me. She hasn’t threatened to stake me in a while.”

Henry’s lips quirks up. “Did she before?”

“Once. Not in so many words, but still. We were talking about you.”

“Ah, yes. Protective older sister.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

"Was that where you've been these past few days? Visiting your sister in Washington?" Henry inquires.

Alex's grin widens. "Ah, so you noticed my absence."

Henry considers denying it but quickly decides against it. What would be the use? He simply shrugs. "Perhaps."

He heads back towards the park entrance, where his carriage awaits, confident that Alex will trail behind. He's starting to understand the vampire's patterns.

True to expectation, Alex follows without fail.

"So... Are you finished for the night?" Alex queries casually.

"I believe so. Why?" Henry responds.

Alex shrugs, a picture of nonchalance. "Care for a drink? The Club on Seventh Avenue might still be open."

Henry’s heart rate quickens its pace. So far, they have shared a few drinks at receptions, but this is different. He knows men often frequent such clubs for political discussions and entertainment over expensive spirits, and he wouldn’t even think twice about going with anyone else. But there is something in Alex’s eyes when he looks at him, especially since that evening in the library. A dangerous glint, a hunger that has nothing to do with his lust for blood and everything to do with pure, carnal desire.  

A temptation Henry knows he must resist, no matter how strong the pull. 

"I should return and check on Bea," he replies, listening to the voice of reason in his mind while silencing the one in his heart.

Disappointment briefly flickers across Alex's face but swiftly transforms into a smile. "Of course. I understand."

Henry's attention drifts as he catches sight of something behind his companion. He tenses, every sense heightened.

"Alex..." he murmurs, the shift in his tone catching the vampire's notice.

"What is it?"

"A werewolf is headed our way."

Alex pivots, spotting the creature further down their path, its fur gleaming in the moonlight.

It seems oblivious to their presence, swaying slightly on its feet and emitting low growls. Henry watches it closely for a moment. This isn't a predatory werewolf; it appears disoriented and lost.

Instinctively, Henry seizes Alex's arm and guides him behind himself. They retreat cautiously, seeking cover behind a nearby tree.

.“Please tell me you have that handy little pistol you pulled on me that first time,” and Henry feels Alex’s exhale of relief against his neck as he fishes out the gun from his coat. 

Alex is standing very close to him, closer than it is strictly necessary, but Henry doesn’t feel the need to call him on it. He already knows the werewolf is not a threat to either of them, but for some reason, having Alex squirming behind him is kind of thrilling. Also, it’s not as if the vampire doesn’t tease him frequently on all sorts of things.    

Alex clears his throat as the werewolf slowly approaches. “What the fuck are you waiting for, Fox? I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how fucking lethal a werewolf scratch would be to little old me, right? And that there’s no cure?”

“Of course I know,” Henry says, eyes still on the creature. Just because he enjoys this moment doesn’t mean he will take any risk with their safety.

“Then shoot it!”

Henry turns to him with a smirk. “Only if you say please.”

The disbelief on Alex’s face at that moment is priceless, prompting Henry to laugh, which attracts the werewolf’s attention.

“Oh shit,” Alex whimpers, and Henry decides to take him out of his misery and pulls the trigger, shooting the creature in the leg. There is a howl of pain as it falls heavily on the grass. 

"Wouldn't it be more efficient to aim for the heart?" Alex quips, dripping with sarcasm. Henry brushes off the comment, moving closer as Alex follows cautiously.

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” he calls out, his tone both exasperated and amused.

Henry laughs again—something that seems to happen a lot when Alex is around, but now is not the time to dwell on that —and by the time he’s kneeling next to the body, the werewolf has returned to its human form. Henry is glad to know his instincts were right.

Alex finally joins him. “Woah. It’s just a kid.”

Henry nods. “He's a fledgling, which is why I shot his leg. He’s been recently turned.”

“You noticed all that while he was walking towards us?” Alex asks, and Henry tries hard not to preen under his impressed tone.

“It’s my job, Alex. Though my Gran would have me exterminate them all, I've learned things aren't always so black and white.”

"Guess having half-demonic blood helps," Alex remarks casually, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

Henry whips his head around while tending to the young man's wound. "How do you know?"

“Your father told me he was a wizard when I met him in London a few years ago.”

Henry, taken aback, says, "I remember you mentioning seeing him on stage and meeting him once, but you never mentioned having a conversation where he outright told you he was a wizard."

The revelation puzzles Henry. While not entirely a secret, Arthur wasn't one to flaunt his magical abilities, especially after marrying into a lineage of slayers. Discussions about it were rare, particularly in the presence of his grandmother, who harbored evident disapproval of the union and her son-in-law, maintaining a chilly civility towards him.

Now, Henry realizes she was merely biding her time.

His father's openness with Alex that day suggests there was something about him Arthur found trustworthy.

Like father like son, right?

Shaking off the distraction, Henry refocuses. "Well, that's a tale for another day. Will you assist me in getting him into my carriage? I need to take him to Percy."

Alex does a double-take. "Percy? As in Percy Okonjo?"

"The very same."

"You're acquainted with Percy Okonjo?"

"He's my best mate, Alex. Haven't you noticed us conversing at recent gatherings?"

"No! Wait... Percy Okonjo is your best friend? Vampire Percy Okonjo?"

Henry, growing irritated, crosses his arms. "Repeating his name several times will not summon him magically. How do you know him?"

"I've been assisting him with the shelters, contributing financially when possible, and aiding newly turned vampires. I met him a few months after he settled in New York."

"Seriously?" Henry reflects on his recent chat with Percy, where the latter had played coy about Alex. "That little weasel," Henry grumbles, though he knows it's unfair. Percy was just respecting Alex's privacy, much like he does for Henry.

"Oh, come on..."

Henry sighs. "I wasn't talking about you. Never mind about that. Can you help me or not?"

"I can, but we're not done talking about this," he remarks as Henry grabs the unconscious young man by the shoulders while Alex grabs his legs, and they head towards the park entrance.

“I’m serious, Henry,” Alex persists, and Henry rolls his eyes. Does that man ever stop yapping? It’s endearing, but now is really not the time."I need to know everything about the slayer and his vampire best mate," he adds with a dreadful British accent.

"I fail to see why you're so surprised. You know where I stand on the whole slaying business. Plus, I'm here with you, right? And unlike my sister, I've never threatened to stake you."

"No, you threatened to shoot me instead, which isn't quite as lethal, but still. And we've only met in public places so far, and, most importantly, I saved your life earlier tonight."

Henry snorts. “Alright, let’s not get carried away here. And please tone it down. I don’t want to attract every vampire and their grandmother nearby. It’s already a miracle no one has shown up yet after the gunshot.”

They carefully place the body in the carriage, mindful of his injury.

"How long have you two known each other?" Alex queries as Henry prepares to take the reins, prompting a chuckle from the slayer.

“Good grief, you’re like a dog with a bone.”

"More like a vampire with a tasty neck at his disposal," Alex quips, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. "And yes, I know your stance on this, but you two are so different, even putting aside the slayer/vampire thing. And oh my God, I have so many questions. First, how-"

Henry is not sure what goes through his mind at that moment, but what is certain is that his brain is not involved in any way in his impulsive action.

His heart is. His heart wins for once in his life.

He seizes Alex by the neck, drawing him into a fervent kiss that leaves no room for words. For a fleeting moment, a serene quiet envelops them as Alex stiffens, then yields, wrapping his arm around Henry's waist to deepen the kiss.

Alright, maybe Henry was naive, thinking he just wanted to shut Alex up for a minute. He hadn't expected Alex to shove his tongue in his mouth so eagerly.

(He had absolutely expected it.)

A low moan erupts from one of their chests; Henry isn't sure whose. But he's acutely aware of Alex's body pressed against his, the softness of his lips, and the delicious way Alex's tongue slides against his own, licking, tasting, taking. He pulls back briefly, only to capture Henry's bottom lip, biting it gently.

Even in these circumstances, Henry should have known Alex would be a biter.

He pulls away as abruptly as he initiated the kiss, his breath erratic, his vision unfocused, and his senses reeling. Alex looks dazed, his hair disheveled, and Henry vaguely recalls threading his fingers through those curls. He had wanted to know how they felt for so long, but the intensity of the kiss left his memory a blur.

“That’s one way to shut me up, I guess,” Alex breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze is filled with wonder, and his fluttering eyelids stir something within Henry.

Stepping back, Henry puts some distance between them to quell the urge for a repeat performance. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. It was highly inappropriate."

Alex rolls his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "Didn't seem like I minded, did it?"

Henry swallows hard. "No."

“Well then. Feel free to shut me up like this anytime.”

Henry certainly will do no such thing, but he deems it more reasonable to drop the subject.

“Where is your carriage? Did you ride here ?”

Alex opens his mouth and closes it as if he wants to add something about what occurred between them but then thinks better of it.

“No, I walked.”

 Henry frowns. “At this hour? It doesn’t seem very safe.” 

"Henry, I’m a vampire. I can take care of myself, believe it or not. The worst that could happen is me tripping and falling on my own stake, which, admittedly, would be a very undignified way to go."

Henry crosses his arms and nods toward the unconscious form on the carriage floor. "And what about that werewolf?"

Alex shrugs. "I can run very fast," he replies, then adds, "I have trouble sleeping, and walking helps quiet my mind."

Henry shakes his head, a smile breaking the tension. He remembers Alex mentioning his mental struggles and understands the issue with sleep.

"Alright, hop on. We'll stop by Percy’s, and then I'll drop you off at your place."

The drive to Percy’s house is mostly silent—not uncomfortable, but Henry’s thoughts keep drifting to that kiss. The way Alex's body fit against his like two pieces of a puzzle, the sensation of his lips and tongue, the softness of his hair beneath Henry’s fingers—yes, he remembers it vividly now.

Henry also recalls that this is the sole and final kiss they will ever share, a realization that casts a heavy shadow over his mood and leaves a bitter, lingering taste in his mouth.

He unwittingly painted a target on his best friend’s back a few years ago. The thought of potentially repeating that mistake with Alex now fills him with a deep-seated fear and a resolve to avoid such a risk at all costs.

The logical course of action would be to sever ties completely before he’s too deep - even though he knows it's already too late. Moreover, considering Alex's nature, he's confident he would vehemently oppose such a decision. Alex is not one to surrender without a fight.

Bea’s words from that night months ago ring in his head. She was wrong, though. Alex didn’t break Henry’s heart. Henry did that all to himself.

But he has no other choice.

He’s relieved when he sees Percy’s house in the distance. 

Percy owns a terraced house in Park Slope, one side serving as his private residence and the other as the first shelter he established in the area. Henry parks discreetly by the side entrance, designed for horses and carriages. This was the safest way to deliver the unconscious werewolf to Shaan, Percy’s trusted assistant.

He and Alex are then led to Percy’s study, who welcomes them with a big smile.

“Well, this is an interesting development—my favorite slayer and favorite vampire. Seems like you've both had quite the night,” he remarks.

“What happened to your hair?” Alex interjects, pointing to Percy’s new lavender locks.

Percy chuckles. “Ah, just a little experiment. What do you think?”

“It’s... certainly unique,” Henry replies cautiously.

“So, what’s the story there?” Percy prods, gesturing towards the pair.

"I was out on patrol, and Alex here was..." Henry turns to his companion, arching an eyebrow.

"Feeding," Alex chimes in first, followed by a smirk. "And saving your ass."

Henry rolls his eyes. "We bumped into each other, then a werewolf showed up. Alex took cover behind me-"

Alex scoffs. “Hey, you pulled me behind you, and hello, vampire? Werewolf? Not my idea of a fair fight. Excuse me for having some infinitesimal shred of self-preservation. It doesn’t make me a coward.”

“I didn’t call you a coward, Alex. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Which, he realizes belatedly, was the absolute worst thing to say. He sees the grin spreading Alex’s - so, so soft - lips and turns to Percy.

“I’m parched. Would you have anything to drink, perchance?”

Percy glances between them, amusement and curiosity dancing in his eyes. 

“Where are my manners? You two indeed look like you could use some refreshments. Alexander dear?”  

“Can I use your water closets first? I need to wash my hands.”

"By all means, babes. You know the way.”

Alex leaves, and Percy pours two drinks, leaves one on the table, and hands the other to Henry with a knowing look.

“What?” Henry asks. He knows he won’t escape the Okonjo Inquisition. His best friend knows him too well. And yet, he’s never wholly prepared for Percy’s shrewd mind. 

“You two kissed,” Percy states matter-of-factly rather than asking.

Henry chokes on his brandy, spitting half of it on his shirt.

“How the bloody Hell…?”

“Oh, come one, Hazza. The flushed cheeks, the starry eyes, and the extremely smug smile on Alexander’s face? This is the look of a man who finally had his dream come true.”

Henry shakes his head, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he rubs at his wet shirt with the handkerchief Percy just gave him. “If kissing me is his dream, the bar is not very high. It’s not exactly the grandest achievement.”

“Tsk Tsk, no self-depreciation under my room. Judging by the look on his face, it seemed highly satisfactory. How did it happen? Did you like it?”

Henry avoids the second question.."I kissed him to silence his incessant chatter in the middle of Prospect Park. He would have probably attracted all kinds of unsavory creatures. I had no choice, really.” 

“You could have just asked him to shut up,” Percy says, his dark eyes twinkling.

Henry lets out a brief laugh. "Believe me, I tried. But have you met him?"

Alex returns, and Percy hands him his drink, which he gulps in one go, eyeing Henry’s stained shirt.

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing. Are you ready to go?”

They bid Percy goodbye and head towards Alex's home. Conversation flows smoothly, ranging from Percy's latest hair color antics to the juiciest gossip from high society, all previous awkwardness seemingly forgotten.

Until they reach Alex's doorstep.

"Thank you for the company, Alex. I suppose I'll be seeing you soon."

Alex hesitates before stepping off, meeting Henry's gaze with a sly grin. "So, we're just going to pretend it didn't happen?"

"What are you talking about?" Henry feigns innocence, though he knows Alex sees right through it.

Rolling his eyes, Alex replies, "The kiss, Henry."

"Oh, that." Henry shrugs nonchalantly. "There's nothing to discuss. And it won't happen again anyway."

Alex remains undeterred, his smile widening. "We'll see about that, Lord Mountchristen-Windsor."

Alex exits the carriage, leaving Henry struggling to contain his amusement.

"You're a demon," He scolds.

Alex laughs, opening his arms, his eyes twinkling under the warm light of the lamppost. “Well, yeah. Literally, actually. But you like that about me.”

And then he has the audacity to wink.

Henry raises an eyebrow. “That is awfully presumptuous of you to assume.”

Alex flashes a knowing grin. "I'll catch you later, your Majesty."

Henry watches him climb the stairs toward his front door, his mind racing with thoughts. After a brief internal struggle, he makes up his mind and calls him back.

“Alex?”

The vampire turns around, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s not common knowledge, for obvious reasons, but…there is a cure. If something ever happens…find Bea or me. Good night, Alex,” he says, shaking the reins lightly to get the horse going, not leaving time for Alex to answer. He doesn’t feel like being subjected to another barrage of questions tonight. 

Henry’s heart races as he guides the carriage through the dimly lit streets, the echo of their exchanged words lingering in his mind. He can’t shake the memory of Alex's playful demeanor, the warmth of his laughter, and the electrifying moment of their kiss. 

His revelation to Alex of a cure for a werewolf bite—even without disclosing its specifics—is not something he shared lightly. It is a close-guarded secret, known only to a select few inside the Slayer community. If this came out, the scandal and repercussions would be unprecedented, with Henry’s whole family at extreme risk.

It won’t happen, though. Despite their acquaintance dating back barely six months and their blossoming friendship a few weeks ago, Henry is not just convinced but unwaveringly believes that he can trust Alex completely.

Once home, he checks on Bea, who’s sleeping soundly, before retreating to his room, washing up, and sliding under the covers. Fitzwilliam settles on his calves, his weight bringing a sense of comfort.

His body still tingles with the memory of the kiss, and he almost feels Alex’s warm breath against his lips again. Euphoria, mixed with desperation, fills his chest, creating a dichotomy that leaves his heart and mind reeling. 

He knows his chance at happiness is within reach. All his life, he has dreamed of finding someone like Alex, the kind of love his parents shared despite the odds stacked against them. It might sound insane since Alex and he haven’t known each other that long, but every cell in his body calls out to the vampire whenever they are around. A yearning to touch his skin, inhale his scent, lose himself in his chocolate eyes, and create a bubble of bliss and peace for just the two of them. He could decide to throw caution to the wind and seize that chance, consequences be damned.

A pained exhale escapes his throat, the previous euphoria replaced by sudden emptiness. 

He’s not allowed to dream like this. 

It would have been lovely, though.

****

Portofino, Italy - April 1912

Henry shuts the front door behind him, eagerly unfolding the telegram just delivered to their villa. A smile graces his lips as he recognizes his sister's name at the bottom.

Ascending to the first floor, he steps into the living room, bathed in the soft glow of morning sunlight pouring through the wide-open French doors. The gentle breeze carries the sweet fragrances of blooming flowers from the garden and the unmistakable scent of the Mediterranean Sea, its turquoise waters sparkling in the distance.

His gaze lands on a photograph of Alex and him, captured at the 1900 World Exhibition. His mind drifts back to a spring in Paris, where they whispered promises of eternity on the second floor of the Eiffel Tower. 

Twelve years later, their vows remain unbroken. 

Nearly twenty-one years have passed since Henry took a leap of faith, falling into Alex’s waiting arms, who caught him effortlessly and has never let go.

Henry steps onto the terrace, joining Alex, clad in scandalously snug shorts that leave little to nothing to the imagination. Despite questioning the point of wearing them, Henry certainly doesn’t complain, especially considering their secluded hillside home, a place blessed with privacy and a stunning view that stretches as far as the eye can see. The view from the terrace is truly breathtaking. They can see Portofino’s old harbor with its traditional Ligurian houses painted in shades of yellow, pink, and orange. 

Contrary to popular vampire depictions, Alex is far from the expected archetype. In fact, with his fair complexion, Henry aligns more closely with the stereotype. Currently basking in the sunlight, Alex embodies the essence of his sun-worshipping Aztec ancestors.

“Was it Bea?” he inquires as he hands Henry a glass of lemonade.

"Yes, she's due here tomorrow morning with Philip and Martha. They made a stop in London to visit Mum. And June mentioned that Percy and Nora will join us in the early afternoon."

Alex grins. "Looks like it's going to be a full house this weekend. I love it."

They had invested in the villa a few years back, envisioning it as a perfect getaway bathed in sunlight, with enough space to accommodate their entire family and circle of friends.

With a smirk, Alex grabs a towel from a nearby lounge chair and drapes it over the terrace stone railing. Then, he pulls Henry close, seating him on it and nestling between his legs, planting a deep kiss on his lips. Henry moans in his mouth as Alex presses his pelvis against his, making his intention clear.

“It seems to me your intentions are less than honorable, Mr Claremont-Diaz.”

"Oh, my intentions are positively scandalous, sweetheart. Consider it a reward."

"A reward for what?"

"For railing me thoroughly through the mattress earlier this morning. Definitely one of the best orgasms of my life.”

Henry smiles, recalling the morning's events vividly: Alex, a delightful wreck, surrendering to him as Henry pinned his wrists above his head and drove into him relentlessly.

Alex brings him back to the present as his hands grasp Henry's shorts and ease them down his leg.

"Leave my shirt on, please," Henry breathes. "I don't want to get a sunburn."

Alex chuckles and slips his hands under Henry's shirt, gliding up and down his back.

He wets his fingers, finding Henry’s hole and circling his rim before gently inserting one finger. Henry emits a soft moan as he wraps his legs around Alex's waist.

"Don't hold back, baby. Let me hear those lovely sounds."

There’s an exhilarating thrill in doing this in broad daylight. Henry tilts his head back, exposing his face to the sun, while Alex lavishes his neck with kisses and gentle nips as his fingers work their magic until Henry can’t take it anymore.

“I’m ready, love,” he pleads, heat spiraling low in his belly as he slowly loses the ability to think and revels in the myriad of sensations brought by Alex”s touch.

Alex pushes down his own shorts and puts his hands under Henry’s ass, lifting him, and Henry sinks on his cock as they both let out strangled, matching groans. They don’t move for a minute, Henry relishing in being filled, surrounded by Alex’s everything - his body, his scent, his dick, his mouth trailing on the sensitive inside of Henry’s elbow as he patiently waits to get the green light to move, which Henry gives him by raising his hips slightly before sinking down once again. 

Alex puts one arm around his waist and lowers Henry onto the towel again, his other hand settling beside him on the railing for support as he starts thrusting. Initially slow and steady, Alex quickens his pace when Henry tugs on his curls, eliciting another low growl from the vampire.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” Alex stutters as their eyes meet, his gaze full of awe and devotion, vast and unending, brighter than the sun shining on them.

Adjusting his grip, Alex hikes Henry’s leg up, tilting his hips so that on his next thrust, he hits Henry's prostate at just the right angle. Henry’s cock is trapped between their stomachs, creating delicious friction with each push. Alex is so deep now that every movement brings them one tremor closer to an earthquake.

“Oh fuck…Bloody Hell,” Henry cries out. The tension in his gut is tightening, and an overwhelming rush of pleasure steals his breath as his cock jerks, and he comes all over their stomach with a soft laugh. Their lips meet for a messy, passionate kiss, all teeth and tongue, as Alex follows suit, falling over the edge right after him. Henry praises him sweetly, and Alex's erratic movements only intensify the aftershocks of Henry's orgasm.

"I love you," Henry whispers as the last remnants of pleasure course through them. They share another kiss, their heavy breathing gradually slowing. A blinding smile stretches across Alex's mouth.

“I love you more,” he replies, and Henry rolls his eyes fondly at their never-ending debate.  

Alex effortlessly lifts Henry and pulls out, and Henry can’t help but let a small whimper escape at the loss. Alex chuckles softly and moves him to a lounge bed in the shade. After wiping them both with a towel, Alex lies beside him, taking him in his arms, and Henry rests his head on his chest with a contented sigh. They are both sweaty and sticky, but Henry doesn’t care, lost in a post-orgasmic haze. Alex's after-sex scent fills his senses, mingling with his own, its unique fragrance enveloping them in a comforting bubble. Henry lifts his arm, offering his wrist to Alex, who kisses and licks it.  He lets out a soft gasp as Alex's fangs graze his wrist, a shiver running down his spine. The intimacy of the moment deepens as Alex tenderly kisses the spot, sending waves of renewed desire coursing through Henry. He feels the warmth of Alex’s body against his, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest soothing. Henry's breath hitches as Alex's tongue flicks over his pulse point.

Alex looks up, his eyes dark and full of mischief, as if sensing Henry's cock renewed interest."You taste amazing," Alex murmurs against his skin, the words vibrating through Henry.

Slayer and vampire stamina is truly a wonderful thing.

Alex delicately pierces the skin, savoring the taste of blood as Henry moans with pleasure. Alex doesn't indulge much, but once finished, he delicately licks the puncture wound before leaning in for a deep kiss. Henry never ceases to be amazed by the intoxicating coppery flavor of his blood on Alex's tongue.

“When are we supposed to leave?” he asks after a moment, their bubble bursting as he is reminded of their impending departure. 

Alex squints his eyes, still a bit drunk on Henry’s blood. “April 10th…We have to be in Southampton next Monday. We board on Tuesday morning.”

"Could we extend our stay until next Sunday? I'm not eager to return just yet. Would that fit with your work schedule?"

"I'll make it happen, baby if that's what you want,” Alex says, settling them comfortably on the chair for a nice nap. "I'll reach out to the White Star Line about a refund. Can't guarantee they'll approve it, considering it was the ship's maiden voyage."

Henry nods, a small smile playing on his lips as he relaxes into Alex's embrace. "Thank you. It's just... I want a bit more time with you, away from everything.” 

Their mouth locks together again, a chaste kiss only meant to remind them of the bond they share. It is a moment of connection, a silent promise of love. They pull away, but the warmth of that brief touch remains.

“What do you want to do this afternoon?”

“Alex, you just fucked my brains out. I’m not having any coherent thoughts right now.”

“If you are using the word ‘coherent’, I’m not sure I did such a great job. Still, you’re welcome,” he adds with a smug grin. “We should buy one of those fancy automobiles, see the countryside instead of having sex in here all the time.”

Henry snorts. “Indeed, what a chore.” 

Alex’s hand reaches for his, entwining their fingers, and Henry’s eyes trail to his forearm, where a mark lingers. A reminiscence of a haunting night over two decades ago that Henry will never forget, no matter how hard he tries.

Vampires are not supposed to have scars.

“Hey, where did you go?” Alex asks sleepily, sensing the shift in Henry’s mood.

Henry kisses his jaw. “Nowhere, darling. I’m here with you.”

Always.

[joonkorre]

likened to a deepsea diver

@drarrymicrofic prompt: travel

Harry spot Malfoy standing outside an H-E-B, watched him frown squinty-eyed and ruddy-cheeked under the mid-July sun as a little, equally-as-blond girl tried to climb into his shopping cart. That was 15 years after the war. But this isn't about that. This is about Willow City Loop. Or, a tentative love letter to Texas and the places there that I’ve never been. AO3

Draco sits with his feet up on the dashboard. It’s all kinds of dangerous and not something Lyra should see and learn from the backseat, but Harry only taps on the steering wheel, quiet. Just two years ago, Draco would never be caught dead like this, loose-limbed and soft in a cotton T-shirt. Harry’s cotton T-shirt. Lyra, too, would never let herself be in an enclosed space with another man who wasn’t her father. The both of them, pale and gaunt, were a sobering sight to witness. Unreachable in their posh accent and eccentric traditions and constellation names. But Lyra had let out a giddy “oooh” when Harry invited them to this weekend trip, and Draco had laid a gentle, callused hand on Harry’s shoulder, peeking at the worn map and the line of red marker to their destination. And so Harry signals right and merges into 87, hoping that the guidebook was right.

It was not.

“That’s a lot of people,” Draco says, craning his neck this way and that to look at the traffic ahead. “I thought we arrived early?”

“Guess everyone thinks so too,” Harry bites back a sigh. He’s not even holding the steering wheel at times, just tap-release-tap-releasing the brakes into a crawl.

“Do you reckon I can sit over there for a bit? By the big tree?” Lyra asks. Harry almost can’t hear her above the constant drone of engine and honking, but Draco does and whips around in his seat. In the back, she has rolled down the window and poked her head out.

“Sit down, Lyra, for Merlin’s sake,” he scolds. “You’re gonna get your head chopped off.”

Jesus, Harry thinks, a startled laugh almost escaping him as he watches them.

“That’d be fun, wouldn’t it?” the young girl says, now with her elbows on the window sill. “Like in that movie you didn’t let me watch.”

“Yeah, and you watched it anyway. No library trip for two weeks.”

“What the hell!” she shouts into the watercolour meadow. Probably because she can, and probably because it’s funny. Harry does laugh this time.

Draco’s head tilts toward him, light eyes almost transparent in the morning sun.

“Do you mind stopping the car? I have to go feed her to the bisons or—whatever it is that you raise in Texas.”

Harry shrugs. “The closest bison ranch I can think of is, like, 30 miles away. That’s a long walk.”

“Damn,” Draco frowns as though truly disappointed, then he shifts around again. “Lyra, sit back down. If you really get your head chopped off, I’m gonna sick up all over the dash and it’ll be disgusting. Save me from the indignity.”

One car honks, then another. Harry jolts, turning to see a swath of empty road in front of him. He lifts his foot off the brake, letting it move at a safe enough speed for a little girl with half her body hanging out of the window.

“Lyra,” he raises his voice. “Listen to your dad and get back inside. Now.”

A second of silence, then shuffling. Harry makes sure Lyra is pulling her torso back in using the rearview mirror, and she sits down with a thump. He lowers his gaze to the road, rolls up the window, and accelerates.

“The drivers are nicer today than usual,” he says after a minute or so. “They normally wouldn’t let people dawdle for that long.”

“I only listened ‘cause Dad likes you,” Lyra says at once, picking up her book. That’s Lyra Code for being done with her shenanigans for the day, and she’d like to sit daintily in her daydreams now, thank-you-very-much. A regular southern belle, her, and she was born in Ashford too.

Draco scoffs and looks out the window, face fully hidden from Harry’s angle. “Christ…”

It’s so childish, this ache in his chest. There’s an equally as intense ache on his face, stretched into a grin that feels instinctual, a base response etched in his genetics, like something he has to apologise for and stamp down. Harry reaches over and finds Draco’s hand, curled stiff into a fist on knobbly knees.

But at Harry’s touch, it unfurls. One blink, and Harry has already intertwined their fingers in the next. He keeps his eyes on the road, not really needing to look at the bluebonnet after all.

“I know, hon,” he says. The hand in his tightens for a brief moment, like a warning or a message or an agreement. The sun only gets brighter. When they get back home—their home (theirs, theirs, theirs) with an honest-to-God white picket fence that Lyra had too much fun painting and that the HOA detests, as well as a pie on the kitchen window, one of many culinary experiments Draco embarks upon—they’ll have a lot to discuss. “I know.”

[hopefulfuturenovelauthor]

Panic Room

Crowley x reader (gn) part 1

about 5,000 words. I hope you all enjoy and please do not copy my work, thanks!

Warnings: read through at like 1:00 am once so probably many mistakes, canon violence, the supernatural, angst (I guess), and language. Also slight warning, I’m planning on making this a 3 part/ maybe short 4th part mini series, but I take forever to write anything, this has just been sitting in my drafts for a couple of months.

Panic Room

Hell Raising

Hair Raising

I’m ready for the worst

So frightening

Face whitening

Fear that you can’t reverse

Welcome to the Panic Room

Where all your darkest fears are going to come for you …

Seven and a half months. For you a total of 75 years of brutal, unrelenting torture. Hell did not treat you well and to call you bitter would not only be offensive but also the largest understatement of the millennium. 

You loved humanity, you loved your life, and you loved those in your life. Despite this, anger was all you could feel toward the people that used to bring you the most joy. The ones that made you laugh, that made you a better person, and left you behind. You didn’t even know if they knew. 

You died. You died and as your deal had stated; you were going to hell. Readying yourself for the worst did nothing to help in the end. The place was so frightening at first, but with time you became used to the fear. It was nothing anymore. Your only goal in life was to never be afraid again. You knew what you needed, but more importantly, you knew what you craved.

You wanted them to pay. You made the deal for them. You made the deal with his crossroad demons. You took the price when the one that fucked up refused to take responsibility for his actions. 

You sacrificed everything. You lost your will to live and more. You didn’t want to hurt just anyone you wanted to hurt them. You wanted them to feel every moment of your torture and then some. You didn’t want revenge, you wanted justice.

“Belial, the wicked one, it’s great to finally see you, however, I had been hoping I’d be able to put a name to a face. Is the mask really necessary?” Crowley stalled.

“No, it’s not necessary, I just prefer it. After all, I did go back to get my face, and I wouldn’t want my old identity to get out there, now would I?”

“I suppose not,” Crowley led on, making his way around one of his numerous castle rooms in Hell, preparing the both of you a drink. “How do you like your liquor?”

“Well, more recently I’ve come to like a nice earthy aged scotch or whiskey neat. Whichever you think would be better. Either is much nicer than the cheap beers I used to drink. However, you still stick to the room temperature yeast water if I’m correct Dean and Sam. As for you Castiel, your grace makes it unnecessary to even try drinking unless you want a whole nother liquor store,” you turn slowly to look at the shorter hunter sneaking up behind you. 

Dean had stopped his stride as you started to speak of him. Sam carefully made his way out from behind a bookshelf to your left. Castiel walked with his usual cadence from your right, out of the darkness.

Crowley gulped as you slowly moved back to look at the King of Hell.  The brothers collected together on your left moving closer to the demon you were staring at. Castiel armed himself with an angel blade shifting to Crowley’s side. 

“It’s nice to see I’ve sent you into such a panic, my King. But all four of you, here, in front of me, it truly seems all of my prayers have been answered.”

“What are your grievances toward us?” Castiel questioned, as he held his position as a warrior of the lord.

“What the hell did we do to you?” Dean asked.

You chuckled menacingly, “Hell is exactly right, Dean Winchester. As for my grievances, I simply can’t move past the fact that I was left here to rot.”

“We don’t even know who you are,” Sam said, trying to ease the tension of the situation.

“I assure you, you know exactly who I am.”

��What is it you wish to do to us for our mistreatment of you?” Crowley did not seem bothered by your accusations. He was in fact satisfied with his work, but only because he did not know whose face lay under the cover of your mask and hood.

“I’m simply going to take you to where all your darkest fears are going to come for you.”

Crowley scowled at this. Castiel raised his blade. “You can’t hurt me, angel, you promised.”

“I have only ever promised that to one-“ Castiel stopped speaking. The look of sudden and horrifying realization dawned on his face.

“Cas, Cas, what is it, who are they?” Dean asked as Sam tried to get Castiel to share the information he had just come to understand.

“Well, I don’t care who feathers promised to protect. This is my kingdom, no one threatens me,” Crowley pulled out his angel blade only making it a step forward.

“Really, Crowl,” your voice sounded as it used to, no longer holding the facade of an old and ancient demon, “when have you ever beat me one-to-one? We could make another bet, you’ll have to finally take me to that one restaurant you're always raving about and saying you’ll bring me to.”

His face fell immediately. “No,” it came out of his mouth with a hint of denial, but his eyes begged for what he was thinking to not be true.

It was your turn to smirk at the demon. You did so as you took off your mask and slowly removed your hood.

“Y/n,” Sam’s voice came out breathy. You were unexpected. Dean’s face whitened entirely, finally understanding Cas’s silence. 

“We burned your body,” Crowley’s voice was breaking and eyes watering.

“You should have gone to Heaven,” Castiel stated.

“And I would have. If I hadn’t made a deal to save you lot from Lucifer,” your nostrils flared and your glare was directed at the Winchesters. “You were like brothers to me. I saved you! And you!” your gaze turned to Crowley, “I was given two goddamn years, by your crossroad demons. And my life ended up shorter than determined because I sacrificed myself to save all of you. And-and you, you let me rot in Hell.” Your voice broke on the last sentence you let slip.

Each of the men before you crumbled at the weight of your words. Not a single one of them could look you in the eye. 

“Do it,” Dean said. No one spoke out against this. “Do what you need to do, make us pay. Just, please, let Sam out of this.” The begging was something your demon side liked, but the human part of you was sickened by it.

You walked forward, reaching out to cradle Dean's face in one of your hands. “No,” escaped firmly from your lips that were stuck in a hellish smile, fully displaying almost pointed teeth, like that of the many monsters you had all killed together.

The fear that followed your statement caught you off guard. Sam, Cas, and Crowley all flinched at your answer and Dean fell apart. 

“Please,” the pleading returned. Dean looked about ready to beg you from his knees.

“I do not want revenge. I want justice. Congratulations, I don’t want to kill you any more than I want to kill anyone else at the moment. I want you to look at me and see what I am. I want you to know what you did. I want you to understand I screamed, and cried, and begged for each of you to save me. I want you to know that I held onto hope for so long,” the tears began to escape from your blackened eyes, “I thought you would come for me. I thought you cared! But you left me, never thought about me. You didn’t give any part of it a second thought. So this is punishment fit for the crime. I am a demon,” you looked at Dean, “I am not your friend,” you looked at Castiel, “I am not Y/n,” you looked at Sam, “and one day I rip this Kingdom from your grasp,” you looked at Crowley, and stepped back to view them all, “most importantly, none of this is personal. You left me behind, now I’m leaving you. You will forever recognize that you messed up and I will always be a reminder of your guilt. You are nothing to me, even if I am something to you.”

You began to walk off, reaching for the handle of the doors you had walked through earlier. You spared only one glance back before walking out, making one final blow, “goodbye boys.” After that, you simply disappeared.

—

“Your majesty,” the demon croaked out in fear.

“What?!” you snapped at your underling as you looked up from the scattered plans of hell and general paperwork. The demon shook under your gaze. It concerned you at times that your demons feared you so much. You were more of a force to be reckoned with than Crowley and he had been a demon for far longer than you had. The cruelty wasn’t what you wanted. You had hoped the damage done to your soul hadn’t changed you as much as it obviously did, but you supposed that was just your luck. “I apologize for my brashness, Anthony. I’m simply busy and stressed. Now tell me, what is the matter?” you looked at the demon before you with as much care as a demon can have for their personal assistant in a strictly platonic way.  

“I’m afraid the Winchesters wish to see you. The short one is in the palace with his angel,” he told you still wary of your scrutiny.

“Here… in Hell?” you questioned. Anthony nodded, swallowing down his hesitance. 

“They threatened to start killing your people if you refuse,” he said.

“Ahh, send them in then,” you told the demon, “make sure they know that if any harm comes to you I will be far less willing to even give them the time of day once they arrive.”

With another small nod, he walked off to collect Dean and Castiel. It had been a year since you had last seen any one of your old ex-friends. Hopefully, they would leave you alone if you showed little interest in their affairs.

As quickly as he left, Anthony seemed to return. Dean and Castiel were in tow, following behind the demon. You raised your brows at your loyal subject asking him if he was alright. As always Anthony kept it short with a brief nod before gesturing toward the door. You responded curtly back. Neither of you needed words to truly understand the other when it came to such dealings. 

“You seem to be doing well down here,” Dean said, rocking on his feet, a telltale sign that he was uncertain and needed to calm his nerves somehow.

“Yes, I suppose us demons just have a knack when it comes to Hell,” Dean paled at the distance of your voice. It still destroyed him that this was you now. All he saw was your body, but it wasn’t you inside, not the you that had been like a younger sibling to him.

You asked Dean what he was doing here, but he did not respond.

“Dean,” Cas said.

“Yeah.”

“I asked what you wanted,” you said again, this time he was actually aware. 

“Oh,” Dean was certainly out of it. Even Cas seemed to be affected by your voice. He tried to show it less, but Dean looked struck. If you had any empathy for them you would have felt bad. But you had none.

“Look,” you turned to actually face them, abandoning your work, “I’m not unreasonable, and I doubt this is a social call. I know that most of what you do tends to keep newer, larger, and more concerning players off the board. So what can I do for you so I can get back to my job and you can get back to yours?”

“We need help,” Dean replied.

“We need to find the angel tablet,” Castiel said. He seemed off somehow, even just slightly. He felt off too. It could have just been your new keen magic skills. You had recently been looking into seer magic and empaths.

“Oh,” you let out, leaning back into your throne, “Sorry, little above my level at the moment. I can get you a referral though. May I ask why you need this specific artifact?”

“So you’ve heard of it?” Dean pressed, stepping closer. Your eyes flitted black and he took a cautionary step back.

“I’m afraid I don’t let demon hunters and their angel friends too close, out of self-preservation. As for hearing of it, yes, I have. Let’s just say some information trickled down from Crowley’s kingdom.”

“Is this not all his Kingdom?” Castiel’s head cocked to the side.

“For the moment. It’s always healthy to have some respectable competition.”

“Who would this ‘referral’ be?” Dean used air quotes awaiting his likely disappointment.

“Ah,” you sighed, “I had a feeling you would ask that. Sadly, Crowley would likely know more than I would.”

“Crowley isn’t going to let us anywhere near him,” Dean argued.

“Well, that isn’t my problem. I’m not the one mucking around in other people’s business, now am I?”

“Y/n-” Cas started.

“It’s Belial or your majesty, angel,” you barked.

“I apologize, Belial,” Cas looked devastated. Fuck, what was that pang in your heart? Why did it hurt so much?

“He won’t talk to us. Not while he has the demon tablet,” Dean tried to present his case.

“Yes, and that has to be the one thing he is actually doing well at the moment, keeping it away from you, good for him. Now if that is all then respectfully, get out of my palace.”

“Thank you, Belial.”

“Cas we can’t just-”

“We can and we will, Dean,” the angel as always responded firmly and apathetically. Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder ready to fly out of your throne room.

“Castiel,” you said, your voice louder than it had been before that it echoed around the room.

The angel did nothing more than look at you expectantly. “Be careful, I don’t believe any of this is going to end well for you.”

“I will be fine,” he said.

“No, angel, I mean it. I have this feeling, watch out, please,” this was the closest you had ever been to who you used to be.

“Okay.”

—

“You, you helped me, why? I- you said you wouldn’t,” Crowley fumbled as you freed him of his restraints.

“Trust me, it’s not personal. You’re just easier to overthrow than Lucifer. So, as many say, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” The locks clicked, releasing the demon crouched beneath you. You dropped the chains to the floor and pointed back and forth between the two of you, “This little alliance will only last till Lucifer is back in his cage. After that, I will go back to ignoring your existence, other than me trying to take over Hell.”

“Well, I can’t say that isn’t logical. I suppose I’ll make do,” Crowley rubbed his wrists.

“There is no making due. Neither of us wants Lucifer in charge of anything. That would be bad for both of us.”

“Why is that so bad for you?” Crowley looked at you with curiosity in his eyes, “You want to ignore me forever. You wish the same for the Winchesters and Castiel. So why would joining Lucifer and letting him kill us to be so bad?” 

“I-” your loss for words was concerning to Crowley when it came to this form of you. The demon you was hard to throw off their game.

“Well?” He egged you on.

“How could you ever think that I want you dead?” your voice was low, as was your gaze. You avoided looking at him. Keeping your voice steady was harder than you expected.

It was Crowley’s turn to be at a loss for words. From the start, he had thought you wanted revenge as much as you claimed you didn’t. You were a demon after all, and you thought he and the others had wronged you. He fully expected you to fantasize about each of their ends.

Finally, your eyes found his face. He never thought he would see them as broken and hurt. The glossiness of your tears was begging to spill over. “You scare me. But never, ever believe that I want you dead. I can’t trust you. I can’t be around you, because I am afraid. Because I know if I have to I’d do it all again. Seventy-five years of torture to make me hate all of you, and only three to make me care for you enough to screw myself again. Fear is an incredible tool for motivation. So yes, I’m afraid of what Lucifer will do to me, but I am just as afraid of what Lucifer will do to you.”

——

“So you're the little demon ex-hunter Fergus is obsessed with?” the red-headed witch mewled.

“If you are asking rhetorically then you likely already know,” the answer was monotonous.

“I see why he likes you so much, this body of yours is most certainly a looker. You’re also far more mature and intelligent than the other demons.”

“Back off posh female Ron Weasley.”

“I’m afraid I don't know who that is.”

You rolled your eyes as she followed you like a dog seeking attention.

“Now, as I’m sure you’re aware, your son and I are not on speaking terms. Whatever he says to you about me does not pique my interest or concern,” you turned to walk away from the witch.

“What about the fact that there’s a human pregnant with Lucifer’s child,” her voice was smug, but her words made you stand straight. “I see that caught your attention, darling.”

“You have 10 minutes to tell me everything I need to know before I leave,” you growled at her, your black eyes attempting to bring fear into her soul.

“Well, that should be more than enough time. Once I finish with all the boring stuff, we can chat. My name's Rowena by the way. You should probably know that considering how much Fergus talks about you. With his enthusiasm I’ll one day be your mother-in-law.”

“I doubt it, considering,” you mocked her and gestured to your eyes. “Either way, as much as Crowley may talk about me, he most certainly talked about you.”

“All good things I hope,” she smiled at you. It was as if every gesture of hers and every action was manipulative by nature. You understood his hatred for her, she didn’t have a genuine bone in her body. You hoped for Crowley that would change, but at the same time, you wished she would finally let him go. He was far too caught up on the woman that never loved him the way she should have. But you would never tell him that, or anyone for the matter.

“Nope, even if there was any good to share, it would never have mattered, not based on everything else he told me about you.”

“Well,” she looked at you, for once appearing less devious, “I hope I can change that.”

“You can’t, and even if you technically could, it wouldn’t mean anything, because once more, I don’t care and I never will.”

———

Juliet nudged your leg. You were situated at the table in the bunker’s library. For the past year, you have riddled yourself with vigorous research and learning. You had been impressive before all of this, but with the extra reading and practice on spells, you were more powerful than you ever really imagined. You were more powerful than Sam, Dean, or Castiel ever expected you to become. It wasn’t necessarily healthy, but considering the track records of each of your respective companions, you were doing much better. 

The gorgeous black-coated supernatural dog whined a little to fully grasp your attention away from the article you were reading titled, He-Wolf/She-Wolf: a Study of Werewolf Transgenderism. You had honestly been curious about the intersectionalities of the two, but after a couple of pages in the read became more of one for pleasure than one for research. As much as you found it interesting it didn’t aid you in any of your studies. Still, you thoroughly enjoyed it, even bringing it up in conversation with the Winchesters and Cas when they talked to you. 

Placing down the paper you looked up at the adorable now one-year-old you had taken under your demonic metaphorical wing. Jack was the sweetest little antichrist you had ever seen.

“Hey kid, whatcha doing?”

He didn’t look happy, in fact, he looked unhappy and a little guilty. It made you sad to see him upset, after all, he was your one and only nephew, and you loved him dearly. He was the only reason you stayed around so much. The others you could care less about, but you’d damn yourself again for the boy before you. Juliet could sense his emotions as well, and ventured slowly over to the son of Lucifer. She gently brushed against the kid's leg. Without a thought, the boy petted the Hell Hound.

“Jack,” your voice was laced with concern, “is everything okay? Did something happen?” The boy looked away with sad eyes and the slightest pout, “come on kid it’s your birthday, you can’t wallow in your negative emotions with me around, not today.”

“Do you blame me?” he asked, looking back at you with tears in his eyes.

“Jack,” your voice broke as you stood up to embrace him, “of course, I don’t, whatever would I blame you for?”

Before you could reach him, he stepped back.

“Jack,” with every second you grew more worried.

“Because it’s my fault. Crowley would be alive if I had never been-“

“No,” you said firmly. But Jack only flinched. You didn’t waste time this go around, immediately engulfing him in a hug. “Don’t say that kid, don’t say that. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I could never blame you, and either way, it wasn’t your fault. It was Lucifer’s and mine and Sam’s and Dean’s and Cas’ and Crowley’s. We all knew what we were up against, but you kiddo, you couldn’t possibly be at fault for anything that happened that day. I just got a little unlucky alright, the best thing that ever happened to me occurred on the same day that one of the worst things that have ever happened to me did. I love you, Jack, I love you, and I can tell you without a doubt none of it was your fault, but most importantly, none of it was your responsibility.”

“I’m sorry,” he cried into your shoulder as he gripped you right.

“Shhh, shhh, you have nothing to be sorry for,” you patted his head softly.

“I just-I just know how hard today must be for you. I know how hard it is for Sam and Dean to look at me- I” 

You pulled away, but only slightly. With precise movements you wiped the tears in his cheeks away, “It could never be hard for me to look at you, unless,” your voice cracked, “unless something happened to you, I- I love you, Jack. You're my nephew, you're the person I care about the most, okay? You could never make me truly mad or upset with you.”

Jack nodded the tears in his eyes finally slowing down, “I never wanted anyone to get hurt.”

“I know, Cas knows, Sam knows, Dean is getting there, and he should have already gotten there okay? Dean- Dean just- don’t let him get to you kid.”

“He has every right to-”

“He has no right,” you said clearly to Jack, “he has no right.”

“Thank you,” he sniffled.

“Always, kiddo.”

“I um- I found these,” he showed you the old photos of you and Crowley before you had become a demon. You carefully took them from his hands, avoiding looking at the photos of the two of you. It was a mystery as to how Jack found these, considering that you hid them away from prying eyes because you yourself refused to look at them. 

———

“Get off my throne,” you growled at the witch.

“Ah,” Rowena smiled brightly, “Y/n, I’ve been waiting for you to show up. How have you been?”

“I was doing fine until I heard you're quite non-demonic arse was sitting on the freaking throne of Hell! You are not a demon, Rowena, what in the name of my goddamn sanity are you doing?”

“Just filling in the position. No one else took a grab at it,” her nonchalance was really starting to piss you off.

“Fuck off, Rowena,” the witch gasped shocked at you and your words.

“That is no way to speak to your, Queen, or a friend for the matter,” she held a hand to her chest.

“Get off the throne,” you spoke through gritted teeth, eyes blackened, and voice course.

“Darling-” Rowena had yet to move.

“Get off his Throne!” your voice amplified at your outburst. Dark magic encircled you, inky black coils, spreading out from your body. Tears escaped your eyes with the same fervor and enthusiasm as Lucifer escaping the cage. 

Rowena wasted no time bounding from the throne and to you. You were so lost, so without focus. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Darling. I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay, everything is going to be okay. Shush child, let it out, let it out,” she tried to soothe you. To your surprise, it somewhat worked. She had calmed your angered state, but you were still a sobbing mess on the floor. With careful and caring intent she gracefully brushed your hair with her fingers, humming sweet melodies. 

It felt like hours, hours of Crowley’s mother combing your hair softly swaddling you and your grief. “It’s alright, Darling,” she cradled your face in her soft, deadly hands, brushing away stray tears that hadn’t been caught by the fabric of her skirt. “I suppose, well I suppose, Hell could always use another monarch, don’t you think? You would be a wonderful ally, you would make a wonderful leader.”

“Why couldn’t it be me? If I’d just- If I’d just told him that I, that I, that I lov-” your body broke down again, your throat aching for the sobbing to stop. Your eyes pleaded with you to stop mass-producing tears, but your heart couldn’t handle the hurt.

———

Your heart was doing better at handling it now. You sat beside, Rowena. Two thrones, two leaders of Hell, one King, and one Queen. All demons respected you, followed you, and were loyal to you.

You were the only demon that resented you for sitting on that damned throne. But that was only half the time. When you felt this way, it was often that those you still had around distracted you from those thoughts or blatantly told you how wrong they were. Sam often joined the both of you in Hell, enjoying his time with you and Rowena. Jack seemed to become like Rowena’s grandchild. She constantly taught him new things you had to reteach him about because of her adverse teaching style. Somehow out of the two of you, it was the demon that had the better grasp on morals. Castiel typically stopped by to grab Jack from your palace or frequented your palace with Dean. As always the two were as close as ever. 

Those two and Sam were practically Jack’s three dads. Dean had finally moved on from what had occurred between Jack and his mother. The idiot even apologized to Jack after all the shit he put the poor kid through. Like the bright little ball of sunshine he was, Jack forgave him instantly, despite you telling him that he didn’t have to accept the apology right away or at face value. Jack let your concerns roll off of him, telling you he knew Dean was being sincere.

It took you longer to forgive Dean. The hunter even tried apologizing to you. It left you a laughing mess because you couldn’t fathom what warranted his empty words. You had heard Dean say it himself, that he often apologized to Sam without even meaning it. With time and patience, you moved past his ignorance, realizing some of your own. It was often demons get bitter, your negative emotions heightened, and your positive ones lessened. One day when he and Castiel had come to pick up Jack you extended the olive branch necessary to replenish as much of your friendship as possible. Dean gladly accepted your offer, stating he would love to have your help on cases, whether it be research or the actual hunt. With a smile on your face, your gaze moved to the incredible Nephilim you had helped raise standing beside his chosen father. Your only last hope for all of them being that Dean finally confesses to Castiel as well.

The smile remained on your face for the rest of the day. Despite not needing sleep you were preparing to go to bed. The cell phone you had been gifted by the hunter brothers rang throughout your room just as you were moving aside your covers. Reaching over you received a nice greeting from Sam. It seemed Dean had told Sam what you had said earlier that day. Snapping your fingers, your cozy fleece pajamas were swapped for your preferred choice of royal attire. A quick swoosh and you appeared at the library in the Men of Letters base. 

———

You didn’t like this one bit. In fact, you dreaded this quite a lot. 

[elevatorladylady]

Critical Reread - Chapter 18

Join me on a reread of A Court of Frost and Starlight

Chapter 18 - F/eyre

Lucien comes to visit. F/eyre finds out what the bat boys are up to.

“The last Solstice I’d experienced had been at the Spring Court. With Ianthe. And Tamlin.”

I really wish we knew more about what they did for Winter Solstice.

“Both trying to lead the humans who occupied the sliver of land at the southernmost end of Prythian. Left ungoverned for so long. Too long. No king or queen remained in these lands. No memory of their name, their lineage.”

This is the laziest world building ever.

“I wondered if the humans had taken to using only lord as a title thanks to the High Fae who lurked above the wall.”

What is F/eyre on about? Why would the humans adopt anything from the fae at this point? They probably still hate the fae.

“Vassa and Jurian are two sides of the same coin.”

Remember when F/eyre said this about her and Nesta because she didn’t actually begrudge her sister as much as the fandom does.

“You could come live here, is all I’m saying,” I pushed. “Truly live here, stay in Velaris for longer than a few days at a time. We could get you nicer quarters—”

She really wants everyone to love Velaris the way she does, doesn’t she?

“Lucien got to his feet. “I don’t need your charity.” I rose as well. “But Jurian and Vassa’s is fine?”

This is such a rude thing to say to someone who already feels like they are being offered something out of pity or obligation.

“Friends, I realized. They had somehow become his friends. “So you’d rather stay with them?”

Why can’t Lucien have friends outside of F/eyre? They aren’t that close. Did she expect him to completely fold into her life despite the fact that her life offers very little to Lucien?

“That you now feel more comfortable with humans than with the High Fae. If you ask me—”

And what is this bullshit? First of all, isn’t she supposed to be better than the fae that think they are better than humans? Second, she was human for all but one year of her life. Third, Lucien let himself be tortured to protect his human friend, F/eyre. 

“It seems like you’ve decided to fall in with two people without homes of their own as well.”

Why does F/eyre even say this? Is it because she does actually know that Lucien can’t feel at home in Velaris? To remind him of the home that has crumbled because of her actions? Or to suggest that Jurian and Vassa aren’t people worthy of being chosen as friends, just a bad crowd that he “fell in” with.

“You have a name for yourselves.” I fought my incredulous tone.”

Rich coming from a girl who was starry eyed over R/hysand’s telling her about his Court of Dreams.

“But I asked, “And what, exactly, does this Band of Exiles plan to do? Host events? Organize party-planning committees?”

He just told her about all of the work they were doing in the human lands. 

“Lucien’s metal eye clicked faintly and narrowed. “You can be as much of an asshole as that mate of yours, you know that?” True. I sighed again. “I’m sorry. I just—”

I feel like this is meant to absolve F/eyre of being an asshole just because she acknowledged it was true.

“I’d created that rift. Ripped it apart with my own two hands. I didn’t quite feel guilty enough to warrant apologizing for it. Not yet. Possibly not ever.”

Again, acknowledgement without accountability.

“You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled. Tread carefully.” I didn’t want to think about it, consider it, today. Any day. “My business with him is done.”

Lucien is one of the few people in this story with any sense. Of course they would need Tamlin, and F/eyre cannot avoid him forever if she actually wants to do anything for human/fae relations as High Lady.

“I’m sorry to have caused him trouble, R/hys said.”

I don’t think R/hys would have done anything differently if he knew it would cause Lucien trouble.

“Despite this Band of Exiles bullshit.”

I guess having friends is bullshit. Oh wait, sorry, friends outside of the IC is bullshit.

“I don’t like to see either of you unhappy.”

This is a good spot for F/eyre to land with Elucien.

“Let him live with his Band of Exiles. Let him deal with Tamlin in his own way. Let him figure out where he wants to be. Who he wants to be. The same goes with her.”

Good advice coming from Mor.

“I arched a brow. “And you—are you happy?”

Are we actually going to understand anything about Mor’s interior life when we get to her book?

[orangespecs]

OFF AU THINGY by me

My silly thoughts at night had created an OFF AU where it’s just OFF but also not

The AU’s name is OFFSCOURING (crazy right)

PLOT 

You are in control of The Batter, trusted with a crucial mission to purify the world.. again?

The world of OFFSCOURING takes place after The Judge defeated The Batter. The Judge then somehow gained the power or creation and recreate everything like how it used to be. OFF’s events happened and this time with no participation of Batter. Forward into the future, The Batter is once again summoned by Pablo truly to purify the more broken and sinister world (with a sprinkle of deja vu).

Also the 3 original guardians have been forcefully retired, lending their power to three whole new leaders. The place is also more widen and another zone appeared, hosted and controlled by an old friend.

Note: Except for Zacharie and The Judge, no one knows who The Batter is, even Hugo and The Queen.

WORLD BUILDING

There are 6 places you can go here: 

Zone 0 - There’s no guardian here: a place where specters appear in the most

Zone 1 - Greeve 

Zone 2 - Aminus 

Zone 3 - Larot 

Zone 4 - Zacharie (holy shit)

The Palace: In host of The Queen with Hugo’s room on the top of the building.

CHARACTERS

This part is still in development (so far i have made 2 reference sheets which isn’t much).

The Batter: Very confuse, still wants to purify the world.

The Elsens: There are now more types of Elsens now thanks to the advance technology. Burnt’s can now be ‘treated’ and there’s these kind of Elsen who are responsible for keeping the cloning process stable. (Also: Elsens have proper names here, their names either starts with the letter E or end with the letter N (or both)).

Dedan: Never thought he’d ever retired. Currently living in Zone 0 just to satisfy his wants of killing specters. He drinks all the time and feed off of specters’ meat. He is also accompanied by an Elsen who doesn’t like the new guardian.

Japhet: Aminus killed him and use his body as a coat.

Enoch: He lives in Zone 1 now, working along with other elsens. Out of passion, he opened a bakery by himself which only opened at day since most of his working shifts are at night. He’s nicer but overworked and really just craving for admiration from others. Still a very tall mister he is, 

The Merchant: Zacharie, ‘thanks’ to Pablo, now is a Guardian of newly founded Zone and he’s forced to enjoy it. He’s also planned to join the Batter who is on his way to purification. Zacharie here is a mechanic and scientist, creating holograms replacing him in every zone.

Greeve: The new guardian of Zone 1. Didn’t know a Burnt could replace Dedan. Greeve might not be as aggressive as the past guardian but he sure is a mischievous one. He is the founder of the Burnts treatment, making them fully functional for working. Greeve has a liking to gambling and an obsession with luck. When Batter killed Greeve, he would explode into acid goo that eats everything it touches. 

Aminus: The new guardian of Zone 2. Filled with pride and riskiness, she managed to take away Japhet’s throne...and his life too.

Larot: The new guardian of Zone 3.

The Prince: Hugo, a child filled with unreasonable sorrow.. Not really a child he’s 2 years from becoming an adult now. Being unable to walk, a kind merchant had gifted him a very advanced bug themed vehicle. Hugo only uses the robot when he needs to go outside though, most of the time he stays in his room, sleeping, or watching the television. Yes, The Batter will have to kill him. When Batter fights him, the vehicle will turn into [thing visualized below]. In the end, the robot will explode with only Hugo’s burnt body left, his last words were “ It was nice playing with you, Batter. ”

Go ahead if you want to ask me about them!

[destinyc1020]

I do want to be specifically careful with how I address this. Please know I'm saying this with not only the utmost respect to you, but as well as Austin because this is his personal life. I hope this doesn't come across with any ill intent, because that is definitely not the intention whatsoever.

Now that Vanessa and Austin's relationship has been brought up a few times in recent months on this blog especially today with the whole "chemistry" and "energy" matching discussion on whether Austin and Kaia truly "fit" together.

I do think it's important for you and others to know especially for those who are new to knowing Austin re: weren't there for when this was a discussion. But it is common knowledge especially for those who lived in Williamsburg New York at the same time Austin and Vanessa did. That Vanessa was very cruel and controlling to Austin (she would publicly berate him).

Maybe their relationship looked and had the energy like it was together and perfect in all those paparazzi photos and Instagram selfies Vanessa would post. But it does go to show that we really don't know these celebrities therefore we can't judge what we don't know.

I hope in some way this makes sense, I reiterate I do not want to cause any drama with this, so I understand if you don't post this publicly. I just thought it was important to say.

Thanks Anon! 😊

No worries....I'm not taking any offense to your ask at all. I too have heard the rumors that Vanessa wasn't all that particularly nice to Austin at times. 😔

This could all be hearsay for all we know, but IF those rumors were indeed true....Do I think she was this way towards ALL the time? NO. I don't think Austin would have been with her for about 9 years (was it?) if she had been nasty to him all that time. Just like, I highly doubt Vanessa would have been with Austin all that time had he been a monster towards her. You just don't stay with someone THAT long (Especially when you have options and are famous lol) unless you really love that person. Jmho.

I think, that like any couple, especially one that's been together for 9 YEARS, they probably fought and had disagreements or issues just like any other couple? 🤷🏾‍♀️

When you hear them talk about each other though in past interviews, and see how they interacted w/each other, they had nothing but good things to say about each other and seemed deeply in love. 😊 Granted, we don't always see what goes on behind closed doors, so I'm sure things weren't perfect, but I just don't believe that people are staying w/someone in a relationship for that long if it was lousy lol. They could have had anyone lol.

Kaia is probably much nicer I guess? 🤷🏾‍♀️ So maybe she's a breath of fresh air for him? Idk... Vanessa (as much as I love her) seems more like a firecracker lol 😅🤣 And definitely controlling lol. While that can be hot and sexy at first, I can see how over time, that could get a little old for a man lol. We don't know what happened in their relationship obviously, but I think fans need to keep in mind that they only saw that one snapshot of her being rude towards him. When you look at pictures of them otherwise, they seemed VERY happy w/each other, and like best friends. Again, I can only go by chemistry vibes and what I SEE. That's basically all people are saying.... "Chemistry". We're not saying whether one was better for the other or not.... 🤷🏾‍♀️

Ironically, if you were to ask me, he seemed happier with Vanessa than he does with Kaia tbh, but again, that could just be that he was younger at the time I guess.

[im-no-jedi]

MLWTBB: First Time For Everything

aka the (continued) journey into my self insert nonsense✨

chapter summary: a change of plans has allowed Hannah and Hunter to finally be alone for a while on their date, which brings forth several long-withheld revelations and confessions from both of them, culminating in a moment that will change their futures going forward...

notes: this is a continuation of my story, “My Life With The Bad Batch”; I highly recommend reading that first before this one! I created a few new planets for this story. I’m also not 100% versed in SW terminology, so forgive me if some things are labeled incorrectly! each chapter will be rated accordingly, as opposed to the overall fic. lastly, there is romance in this story. hope you enjoy! 💙

add. notes: this chapter was edited and proofread by my sis @jam-n-ham! thanks sis!! 😋💙

Chapter 17, 3800+ words, rated T (tis a wee bit suggestive, that’s all 👀)

previous chapters: Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16

next chapter

✨MLWTBB masterlist✨

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Not being the one in charge wasn’t easy. As the leader of his squad, Hunter wasn’t used to taking a step back and letting someone else be in control. He’d worked with people of higher rank than him of course, but he still liked to have some level of authority in most situations.

Tonight however, he was completely content letting Hannah handle the reins for a little while.

She’d been leading him down a few of the darkened streets with both caution and vigor, never once letting up the firm grip she had on his hand. It truly felt like she was taking a page out of his book, and he felt honored by it. Mostly, he was just glad they weren’t in any true danger, even if Hannah was treating it that way.

Eventually, the two of them stopped in front of a residential building. Hannah quickly looked around to make sure they weren’t being watched before leading Hunter into the side alley. As to be expected, the area was quite messy and didn’t smell good at all, which led Hunter to question what exactly Hannah was up to. However, all was made clear when Hannah brought them to a hidden staircase within the wall of the building.

“Almost there,” Hannah said quietly, giving Hunter’s hand a little squeeze. He didn’t question her and continued to let her take the lead.

The building wasn’t terribly tall, but it was enough that Hunter made a comment about it. “Thought you hated climbing stairs.”

“Ehh, I’m used to it now,” Hannah replied with a shrug. “Plus, it’s worth it for this.”

Again, Hunter didn’t question her and just smiled in acknowledgment.

After traversing up a few flights of stairs, the two of them emerged on what was apparently the roof of the building. It was completely bare, save for a few smoke pipes that stuck out near the edges. The location of the building though provided a fairly decent view of the city, with nothing above them to obscure the sparkling night sky.  

“Well, here we are!” Hannah exclaimed, throwing her arms out.

“What is this place?” Hunter asked as he took a quick look around.

“A secret getaway,” Hannah cheekily replied. “Mrs Ygreu told me about it a while ago. This is actually her apartment building. According to her, the other residents don’t know about this, so it’s always empty up here. She said I could come up here if I ever needed to get away or be alone. My anxiety speaks for itself, apparently.” She laughed at her own expense. “I’ve only been up here once before, but not at night.” She walked over closer to the back edge, letting out a sigh as she gazed out at the rest of the city below. The neon lights danced across her face, causing her to break out into a contented smile. “This is so much nicer, honestly...”

Hunter watched her for a moment, just admiring her visage, before coming up next to her. “You really like it here, huh?”

“I honestly do,” Hannah replied with a nod. “I know it’s messy and... unsafe, but... I don’t know... I just feel more at home here than I ever felt on Astreon.” A small sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against the edge with crossed arms. “Omega and I have talked about it before. She feels the same way. Like, even though Astreon and Kamino are where we came from, we never felt like they were... home, you know? It’s like, I dunno, we always knew there was something else out there for us. Something... better.”

As she spoke, Hunter never once took his eyes off her. Although he didn’t necessarily disagree with her, there was nothing in the entire city that compared to the woman standing next to him. The moonlight beaming down on her hair and back, coupled with the neon lights still dancing across her softly smiling face only further highlighted how beautiful she was to him. He knew how much she disliked her own appearance, and it saddened him. After all, her beauty wasn’t just in her looks. If anything, Hannah’s heart was the most beautiful thing about her. And everything she was saying just further proved that.

Very gently, Hunter placed a hand on Hannah’s shoulder and leaned down next to her. “I know what you mean. I used to feel the same way, actually. Kamino was never my home. And now, after all this Empire crap, I definitely feel that way. I think...” He let out a thoughtful sigh. “Home’s not a place for me. My home’s wherever my family is.”

A joyful expression spread across Hannah’s face and she nodded. “I agree. Maybe that’s why I’ve grown so fond of this place. I don’t think I’d enjoy it even half as much if you guys weren’t here.” Her face turned to Hunter, and she stared into his eyes for a moment in silence. “You guys are my home now.”

Hunter began to feel a sense of pride and elation, and it showed on his face. Which was still partially covered by Hannah’s scarf hood that she’d given him.  

With a soft giggle, Hannah reached up and pulled the fabric off Hunter’s head, behind his neck, so she could see him better. Hunter’s hair magically remained intact, like every time he ever took off his helmet. She accredited it to both his bandana and the natural greasiness of his hair.

“Almost forgot I was still wearin’ this thing,” Hunter said, tugging a bit at the scarf.

“It’s nice, right?” Hannah asked as she adjusted it a bit better for him.

“Yeah.” Hunter played with the fabric, running some of the more tattered edges across his fingers. “Seems like you’ve had it for a while. Or it’s just really well-worn.”

“Both, honestly,” Hannah replied with a giggle. “Although, I’ve only had it myself for a few years. It wasn’t mine, originally.”

“Oh? Whose was it then?”

Hannah’s expression began to turn more solemn, and she sighed softly. “My mom’s.”

Similarly to Hannah, Hunter’s face turned more solemn as well.

“She used to have a bunch of these,” Hannah continued. Her hands gently played with the fabric as she spoke, and she let out a chuckle. “It was so funny to me. She was always complaining about being too hot, but if there was any sort of wind outside, she had to put a scarf on her head or her ears would get cold.”  

Although she still had a smile on her face, Hannah’s eyes began to droop with solemness. “I still feel her with me when I wear it. Guess that’s why it brings me so much comfort.”

Suddenly, Hunter’s hands gently rested on hers, and he gripped them tenderly, still pressed against the fabric of her scarf around his neck. The gesture nearly brought Hannah to tears, and she maintained the smile in an effort to hold herself together.

“Sometimes...” Hannah spoke softly. “Sometimes I wish I’d kept more of their things. But...” She shook her head with a sigh and looked away, now lost in her memories.

“Why didn’t you?” Hunter asked with gentle curiosity.

“Umm, lots of reasons, really,” Hannah replied, shrugging a bit. “I needed the money, mostly. But also...” She let out a shaky sigh and shook her head. “I just... I couldn’t handle it, you know? Seeing all their stuff just... reminded me of what I didn’t have anymore. It was harder keeping it than getting rid of it.”

A single tear began rolling down her cheek, and Hunter gently wiped it away with his thumb, causing her smile to widen.

“I didn’t get rid of everything, obviously,” Hannah continued. “I couldn’t. I had to keep something to remember them.” She sniffled a bit and looked at the scarf fondly. “I knew I had to keep one of mom’s scarves. This one actually used to be purple, but the color’s faded over time. I have a ring of hers too, but I can’t wear it, so I just display it instead.”

“Is it that green one you have beside your bed?” Hunter asked.

“Yeah,” Hannah answered with a nod. “As for my dad, I actually don’t have anything physical of his. But he was a musician, so I have all his music on my datapad. Both he and my mom were singers and songwriters. You’ve probably even heard me listening to some of their songs before.” She chuckled a bit. “That’s actually how they met, through their love of music.”

Hunter returned the chuckle and a smile spread on his face. “Well, that explains where you got your musical talent from then.”

Hannah shook her head and laughed. “I’m nowhere near as talented as they were. Plus, I prefer dancing anyway.”

“Oh yeah?” Hunter raised an eyebrow curiously. “You gotta show me that later then. I could just take your word for it, but... I’d rather see it for myself.” He gave her a smug look, instantly making her break out in a flustered blush. “So, what about your sister? What did ya keep of hers?”

Just the mention of her sister seemed to get Hannah more emotional, and she swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Umm... I actually keep something of hers on me as well.”  

Hannah removed the glove from her right hand and held her wrist out in front of both of them. Hunter had seen them before, but two woven bracelets sat wrapped around her wrist; one orange, one blue.

“This one is hers,” Hannah said, pointing to the blue bracelet. “We made these when we were younger; kind of like friendship bracelets, I guess. She didn’t wear hers all the time, but I’ve rarely ever taken mine off.” Her lip began to tremble as she continued. “She wanted to wear it during their trip off-world. Since I wasn’t gonna be there with them. But... just before they left, she took it off and gave it to me. Didn’t even explain why. She just wanted me to have it. I... I swear it’s almost like... like she knew something was gonna happen. Just the look she gave me...”  

By then, Hannah had gotten so overwhelmed with emotions that she couldn’t speak anymore. She covered her mouth to keep from letting out any sobs, but a few still managed to squeak out.

Then, in a quite surprising move, Hannah felt herself get gently pulled against Hunter’s chest. His arms wrapped around her tenderly, and he held her close. Hugs weren’t common between them, especially when it came to more sensitive moments like this. But it just felt right this time, for both of them. Hannah let her head fall on Hunter’s shoulder, nuzzling into the fabric of her own scarf, and returned the hug, gripping tightly to the back of Hunter’s shoulders.

Much like they’d done on Hosnian Prime, the two simply held each other, relishing in their closeness. A similar moment had happened on Volruna too. Except this time, there was nothing to interrupt them. No threat of danger, no other obligations, no fear or worry. They could’ve stayed there the whole night if they wanted. And deep down, they both did.

The embrace only lasted about a good minute though before Hunter pulled Hannah back. She let out a deep contented sigh as Hunter soothingly rubbed her upper arms. “Thanks,” she managed to squeak out, still a bit choked up by the whole exchange.

With a gentle smile, Hunter removed the scarf from his neck and handed it back to Hannah. “Think you need this more than I do right now.”

Hannah chuckled softly and gave the scarf a quick squeeze to her chest after taking it from him. “It’s a good source of comfort, right?”

“It is. Maybe I’ll get one of my own someday.”

“Mmm... I’ll keep that in mind.” Hannah smiled happily as she put her mom’s scarf back on. She noticed that it smelled a bit differently now, most likely due to Hunter wearing it for that long. But she didn’t mind at all. If anything, having Hunter’s scent on her now made her even more elated.

She felt like getting a bit cheekier now as well.

“Would you like me to smooch that for you as well? You know, so it can match your helmet?”

Hunter began to break out in a flustered blush and chuckled sheepishly. “You finally noticed that, huh?”

“Omega had to point it out to me. But yes.” Hannah maintained a smug look on her face, fully intent on getting a good reaction out of him.

It was definitely working. Hunter looked like he was torn between remaining flustered and leaning into the cheekiness himself. “I mean... what else was I gonna do with it? A special gift like that deserved to be preserved, after all.”

The cheeky look Hannah was giving him was beginning to morph into a more flirtatious look. It was almost downright seductive. And her tone began to reflect that. “My gifts aren’t limited to just things, you know.”

Hunter inhaled slowly through his nose to steady himself. He didn’t want to overdo anything, but he was also on the brink of practically attacking Hannah with affection. It would be so easy to just lean down and kiss her, especially now. She was basically inviting him to do it.  

The space between them started to close. Their gazes flitted between each other’s eyes and lips. No danger. No obligations. No interruptions.

But fear? Worry? Perhaps.

Just as Hannah’s eyes began to shut, Hunter let out a sigh and suddenly turned his face away. He couldn’t do it. No matter how much he wanted to.

“I... I’m sorry...”

Hannah was left in a state of confusion as Hunter stepped away, distancing himself from her. At first, she thought she’d done something wrong. It was natural for her to blame herself, after all. But almost like he’d read her mind, Hunter began to clarify his feelings.

“It’s not your fault, Hannah. Please don’t think that. I’m just... I don’t know what my feelings are doing. I don’t know what I’m doing, period. I didn’t think it’d be this big a deal but...” He sighed again. “All I know... is what I know. And what I know is what I’ve been taught. I dunno how to... have a relationship with someone. The kind I wanna have with you. As badly as I want it...”  

He took a sharp inhale through his nose, then he turned to face her again. “All I’ve ever wanted to do since I first met you is protect you. And all I keep doing is throwin’ you into more danger. That’s just how it is for me. And it’ll probably always be that way. I’ll always be a soldier, war or not. And now I’ve got the whole kriffin’ Empire after me too. I can’t ask you to be a part of that. I don’t want you to. And even if I didn’t have all that, I...” His breath caught in his throat as he started getting more and more choked up. “I’m not gonna live for that long. Even if my life wasn’t in constant danger, you’d still outlive me. And yeah, it’s not fair to me. But it’s also not fair to you. You deserve better than that. You deserve so much better than that...”

The entire time he spoke, Hannah stayed silent and listened. Finally, he was sharing his true feelings with her, as painful as it was. Her face reflected the pain of hearing his words, but there was a twinge of anger behind it as well. She had to be careful about how she responded, but she didn’t want to downplay her own feelings either.

After a silent moment of contemplation, Hannah finally responded.

“I understand how you feel, Hunter. Really, I do. Cause, you know, I don’t know what I’m doing either. I barely know how to be friends with people, let alone... more than that. But that doesn’t matter to me. And I don’t think it matters that much to you either.”

Hunter looked away for a moment, letting Hannah’s words sink in. She was right, of course. He was only disappointed he didn’t realize it sooner.

“But all that other stuff?” Hannah continued, her frustration now beginning to show. “The danger, the Empire, all of that... did you really think I didn’t already know all that? Me?” She let out a scoff. “Hunter, we only met because I was in danger. We never would’ve met at all if that didn’t happen. I know how dangerous your life is. And you know what? I don’t care. I don’t care that there’s an entire Empire out there chasing you down and wanting you dead. I know you’ve lived your entire life as nothing more than a soldier, bred to give your life for something you knew nothing about. You didn’t even have a choice in the matter. And while I do care about that, I don’t care about the rest. I’ve seen the way you take care of everyone – me, your brothers, Omega – all of us. You are so much more than a soldier, Hunter. I see how selfless you are. I know how selfless you are. You literally throw yourself in front of danger to protect us. But you have no idea how precious your life is to the rest of us. And I...”

Hannah stopped for a moment, finding herself almost getting too choked up to speak anymore. She’d been slowly advancing on Hunter the entire time she spoke and was now barely a foot’s length from him. Her face slowly tilted up towards him, eyes welled with tears, as she finally found the words again.

“I know your life is short. Danger or not. But I don’t. Care. Any time spent with you... it’s worth it.”

Slowly, gently, Hannah placed her hands onto Hunter’s shoulders, just at the base of his neck. Mere inches separated them now. Her tear-filled eyes never left his face.

“I don’t care if this was our last night ever together... I just care about you.”

Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. A lump was beginning to form. The metaphorical knot that had been keeping her heart locked up tight was on the verge of breaking.  

And instead of swallowing it, she finally, finally let it go.

“I love you, Hunter.”

If words could move mountains, they would have in that moment. That’s what it felt like to Hunter anyway. He’d been listening to every word, watching every move, feeling every emotion Hannah was giving him. But all of it paled in comparison to those three words. Words that had never been spoken to him before. Words he thought he’d never hear.  

Everything suddenly made sense now. Hannah wasn’t just being a good person... she loved him.

If only words weren’t so hard for him to handle. In the midst of Hannah almost getting too choked up, Hunter had gotten too choked up to speak. His mouth opened, but no words came out. It was almost like he was beginning to malfunction, like a droid.

Thankfully, Hannah didn’t mind. In fact, as Hunter continued to struggle, a soft smile grew on her face, and she gave him a look that easily expressed all the love she had for him. She knew exactly how to progress the moment.

“Just kiss me already...”

Now that, he could do.

Without hesitation, Hunter leaned down, bringing his face closer to Hannah. Their breaths briefly danced across each other’s lips. Then finally, after all the previously failed attempts, Hunter gently pressed his lips to Hannah’s, interlocking them in a tender kiss.

It was absolute bliss. Hannah felt like she was flying. She’d dreamed so many times of this moment, and it was finally happening. Her first kiss – not just with Hunter, but overall. And it was everything she’d hoped it would be. His touch was so gentle, but still filled with passion. It reflected so much of his character, and it reminded her of why she loved him, even if she hoped it might go even further.

The kiss lasted longer than either of them thought it would. Neither of them wanted to be the one to break away. But it happened nevertheless. Hannah was left breathless and let out all the air in her lungs, like she’d been holding her breath the entire time. For a moment, they just stared into each other’s eyes, relishing in the feeling of what just happened.

“Why the hell did I wait so long to do that?” Hunter finally said, his voice audibly breathless.

“Right?” Hannah responded with a soft chuckle. She hadn’t stopped smiling since the kiss ended.

A smirk grew on Hunter’s lips and he got an almost wild look in his eyes. “Guess I’ll have to make up for it now.”

“Oh, you better.”  

Hannah barely got the words out before Hunter’s lips were on hers again. This time, he went a bit deeper, and Hannah couldn’t help but let out a small moan. Her hands were now clutching the sides of his face, and she did her best to return the level of passion Hunter was giving her. Hunter had a hand firmly on the back of her head, his fingers intertwined in her short red hair. The other hand rested between her shoulder blades in an effort to keep their bodies pressed together.

Again, it wasn’t a short kiss, and by the time they eventually broke away, Hannah was practically panting. She was experiencing such a high level of euphoria that it was almost too much for her. She’d never gotten drunk before, but both her and Hunter thought her current reaction was the closest thing to it she’d ever get. She almost looked woozy, and Hunter kept a good grip on her in case she actually fell over.

“You doin’ good?” he asked her, only semi joking.

“The best,” Hannah replied, giggling incessantly.  

It was so silly, but Hunter couldn’t stop smiling at her. Her genuine elation was adorable, and he was happy just to see her so happy. A night she would never forget, for sure.

But the night wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

“Hey, so... nuthin’ against this place,” Hunter began. “But... well... there’s somethin’ I wanna show you now. Somewhere, actually. You wanna see it?”

Hannah’s almost drunken-like smile grew wider, and she nodded in response. Taking her by the hands, Hunter began leading Hannah back to the stairs, with her never once taking her eyes off him. If she could’ve formed hearts in her eyes, she would have.

When they got to the top of the stairs, Hunter stopped. “Uhh, the place we’re goin’ is a ways away from here. Might be a bit of a walk. Is that alright?”

Still smiling, Hannah chuckled softly and gave Hunter’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll follow you anywhere, handsome.”

Hunter’s heart swelled at the response, and he almost pulled her into another kiss right there. But he could hold off just a bit longer for that. He was certain the place he was about to take Hannah was going to make the night even more special for her. For both of them.

[mushroomwriter]

(pt1) The hermanos really live in my head rent free askfhfkd and once again, I must thank you for being so sweet and inviting! I hope you enjoy the rambles ahead 》 Hi, hermanos anon back again! I'm finally done with my exams, thank you once again for all your kind wishes <3 I've even had a little holiday and travelling (which stresses me out) and I was rotating your answer in my head all the while... Yesss, that scene with Sergio & Martin is so painful. The emotions on both their faces are so raw and real and uff, I really love how you can see the way both of them have been hurting and grieving despite the *years* it's been since Andrés died. They truly loved him so much and I am never gonna be over it 🤧 And yes that scene on the ship where he's giving them instructions gets me too, especially this one moment where when they reach international waters everyone is cheering and going wild and Sergio smiles for like half a second before the smile just drops from his face and he looks in the distance... and you can just tell he's thinking of his brother who's not there to celebrate with him :'(

(pt2) This gets long so if you can feel free to put even my asks from here on under a cut (or maybe answer them separately? idk I hope i'm not annoying you or your followers with the wall of text and again I am SO sorry for how long this got 😭)

Now about the hermanos' childhood, I must say you've really done some magic with your words because for the past 2 years, I have clung stubbornly to my half brothers headcanon. I cannot emphasize enough how much I never vibed with the full brothers scenario. BUT. After reading your thoughts, something in me slowly softened to the idea (which I repeat I thought was impossible) and then I was reading this novel at the same time, with 2 brothers in it, and one of them is more "evil" than the other, meaner, likes to play tricks and the other is more good and kind and idealistic. Anyway, there was this one passage in the book where the mean brother lies down in his bed at night praying, begging God to "don't let me be mean" and wanting to be nicer and loved by his brother. and my brain replaced that with the hermanos growing up, and my heart squeezed in my chest and thats the moment I finally converted to the full brothers headcanon. Thank you for opening my eyes to the possibilities. Of course, the half brothers headcanon will always be first and special to me, but OMG the FEELS with the hermanos growing up together as little kids!!! I'm just taking their backstory as Shrodinger's Headcanons, since Pina clearly isn't interested in giving us anwers lmao. After this tangent, let me reply to your actual thoughts asdfjsk

Ah, I can see why s3 gave you that impression. Maybe I watched that interview before s3 becz my mind was always clear that they shared a father, so Andrés mentioning him makes sense but he also always had this kind of distance/coldness when talking abt him, even saying "He was *your father*" to Sergio in s2 by the fireplace (which makes sense if the said father abandoned him), while Sergio was the one who always sounded more fond and grieving. And when he mentioned "Mama's illness" I thought it's only Andrés' mother cause neither of them ever seemed very concerned that Sergio could have inherited the illness too? But it's interesting how preconceived notions affect the way we interpret a scene, you and me both had such different conclusions LOL. I understand, it was just the opposite direction for me, I didn't want to 'embrace' the full brothers headcanon 😅

(pt3) Yeah they even never clarified what he was sick with for HALF HIS CHILDHOOD/YOUTH!, let alone how he got better. But I'm so with you, the idea of Andrés taking Sergio to Russia and saving his life has my whole heart. Yes, you can work in the Andrés raising Sergio bit, especially because i think with their father dying and their mother's illness, they were probably orphaned at a young age either way and obviously the responsibility for Sergio would've fallen to Andrés very young, and like you mentioned even when their mom was alive he still might've been expected to look after his hermanito while they were busy trying to manage expenses. Oh, idk if you've heard of another hermanos headcanon that was popular at the time, basically that Andrés started stealing/got into a life of crime to pay Sergio's medical bills, but again, I love the idea that he used every means- legal or not to save Sergio. (Andrés' past intrigues me very much, I wish the spinoff had actually given us some answers 🥲)

OH, I loved your analysis of both scenarios and Andrés' reasons to resent their mom/Sergio. It makes all the sense, and it's heartbreaking. I also agree that it's very interesting he doesn't resent or bear any grudge against Sergio, when he easily could have. Once again, the fact that despite his unforgiving harsh personality in general, Sergio is the exception and he can see that Sergio really was just a helpless child and doesn't hold anything against him, melts my heart. AND YASSS, that's exactly one of the reasons I love the half bro hc so much. It's a Choice, and what a selfless one. Raising the son of the father(or mother) who abandoned you. I don't think many ppl would or could do that. And the fact Sergio was a sickly child too, but Andrés still took him in and didn't treat him like a burden but a beloved brother <3 I also just fell in love with the idea that Sergio thinks he's all alone in the world and then Andrés appears on the scene. Learning to trust each other. Andrés also thinking no one could love him (abandonment issues) and then he's suddenly the parental figure for a kiddo who looks to him and depends on him and loves him unconditionally, the way a child does.

(pt4) YEP, regardless of scenarios I also love the idea that it was Andrés who saved Sergio's life (and ofc, Sergio would think he can do anything. don't get me started on how Sergio would've felt when Andrés told him of the myopathy. Definitely some of his denial comes from the fact he thinks Andrés can defeat the illness, no matter if there's a cure or not) Gosh yes, Andrés would've been so proud and extra protective, we see that in the Bella ciao scene. I really think he didn't mind if he died as long as Sergio got away and gets to live a long and happy life ;___;

I would never stop screaming either if we got a new hermanos scene!!! Keep the hope alive 🤞 Hehe, I'm glad you appreciated the #hermanos angst! Oh that's great!!! As always, I am very excited for any hermanos content and I would love any gifset you make. What a coincidence lol, Richard Siken really was writing about them XD Awww, I love how you put it, that scene really does overflow with familiarity. Thinking of Toledo makes me emotional too, I'm glad I got to ramble about it with you, you made me smile too :') And if I ever get around to writing it, I'll let you know!

Omg, you're too kind, I'm relieved you don't regret the invitation yet haha. And you're happy to see my silly little rambles?? 🥺❤ So so glad our talks give you a serotonin boost too, and I hope you've been doing well. Take care, and please take your time replying to this essay 😭

PS I've read 100 years of Solitude too just last year! Feel free to tell me what you think of the book so far, I'm thinking of doing a reread <3

First of all, I'm sorry it took me SO LONG. Real life has been so busy lately, and I wanted to give you a proper reply, not a hasty one... especially considering I SO ENJOYED your rambles!!

I'm glad you managed to have a little holiday (which I hope wasn't just stressful) after your exams! If you're studying for some other exams now, well, I wish you good luck!

That scene with Martín and Sergio is definitely in the top painful scenes... Andrés is still such an open wound for both of them! Oh man, yeah, I do remember that moment of Sergio just... grieving despite the cheers and relief and it breaks my heart :(

So under a cut is it! Don't worry! I can't talk for my followers but I'm not annoyed for sure :D

What can I say... I'm happily impressed to know I softened you a little to the full-brothers scenario 💕💕 Also because I was maybe a little worried I rambled a bit too much about that scenario, so I'm glad you did like it! And please, associating that quote to the hermanos fcking killed me :( YES I think Shrodinger's Headcanons is the best way to go for their childhood! Like, as I said I went "naturally" for the full-brothers headcanon but there are aspects of the half-brothers headcanon that really melt my heart, so I want to keep them both! lol, Pina decided to give us NOTHING and so now we decided to take double the answers!

Yeah, it makes so much sense... it's truly interesting to see how the same scenes can be interpreted in different ways and how one preconceived notion can, as you said, make us end up with totally different conclusion...

I KNOW! I absolutely expected they'd let us know something more about Sergio's childhood illness, but nothing lol! I don't know if I had heard of the "Andrés got into stealing for Sergio" headcanon, like I definitely had that thought but I can't remember if it was because of fandom influence or not... either way, I'm so ON BOARD with it! (I guess the spinoff at least leaves us very free to headcanon at our hearts' content...)

I'm happy you loved my thoughts about Andrés and the reasons he'd have to resent Sergio, it's something I love to chew on! And YEAH EXACTLY, I mean, especially considering Andrés' whole character, 'selfless' is not exactly the first word that comes to mind to describe him, so thinking of him deciding to take care of this sick child he didn't even know, son of the parent who abandoned him, when Andrés himself was probably still pretty young... ahhhh! And little Sergio thinking he doesn't matter to anyone anymore, he's nothing but a burden now, but then Andrés appears and takes him in... I'm melting. And now you're making me crazy with the thought of Andrés, whose experience in terms of relationships is really not great, who considers himself really hard to love, getting this kid who loves him unconditionally and trusts him and looks up to him... woah. He was probably flabbergasted. "what's this??? UNCONDITIONAL LOVE??"

The idea of Andrés saving Sergio's life also ties nicely with Sergio's reaction when he learned about Andrés' illness, he was there like "let's forget about the robbery and let's go abroad in search of a cure" he wanted to do exactly what his brother had done for him!! And yeah, I think even after Andrés crushed that idea a part of him never stopped holding a bit of hope! As for Andrés, he would absolutely consider "I die but Sergio lives happily" a great scenario and I want to scream!

I'll keep hoping for new hermanos scenes 🤞 Thank you! That gifset is still a work in progress, I got a bit stumped because the scenes I picked are all so dark and my attempts to colour them have been pretty disastrous lmao but I'll try again! Also just so you know, I keep thinking about "you wouldn't be there to catch me" in relation to the hermanos' relationship and I CRY. (Thanks about the fic!)

I'm SO HAPPY to see your silly little rambles you have no idea 🥺❤ Also when I got these messages specifically I wasn't feeling great, like, physically (I had a bit of a migraine), therefore I was pretty unhappy, but your words really lifted my mood! And again, I'm so so sorry it took me so long to reply this time, I really hope you'll see this answer anyway...

PS. Oh, nice! 100 years of solitude is one of the things I had to put on hold lately, but I really want to get back to it because YES I was really enjoying it! I'm also lowkey obsessed with the opening lines, it's really the kind of beginning that makes you want to read the whole book immediately to find out how's that Aureliano ended up there! (We also had to translate that first part for class and later analyse the official Italian translations and I enjoyed it so much...) What about you? Did you end up doing that reread?

[deripmaver]

laurent is a good person - book 1 meta

one of the most amazing things about captive prince is how the reveals in book 3 recontextualize all of the scenes leading up to them, including about laurent himself. in book one, all we see is damen pov as he’s being abused and humiliated by this supposedly spoiled, vile ice prince. when the regent comes to damen and subtly (and not so subtly) insults laurent, calling him unfit to rule - well, why would he think anything different? laurent has insulted him, had him whipped within an inch of his life, and even attempted to (and later successfully lmfao) have him raped while drugged out of his mind. 

after book 3 we can reread most if not all of book 1 as a very traumatized boy who has finally been confronted with the man who killed his brother, leaving him alone with his abusive uncle, and who he clearly has made into a complete monster in his own mind. damen of course sees him as a complete bitch, but there’s textual/subtextual evidence that laurent is well liked, and that his behavior during book 1 was actually pretty out of character for him. i’d like to provide some examples of that now!!!!

“Laurent had stopped dead the moment he had seen Damen, his face turning white as though in reaction to a slap, or an insult. Damen’s view, half-truncated by the short chain at this neck, had been enough to see that. But Laurent’s expression had shuttered quickly.” Captive Prince, Chapter One

i couldn’t resist adding this one in hehe. laurent recognizes damen!! he’s come down, knowing his uncle has devised another truly horrendous and triggering “gift” and that he’ll lose support if he calls it our for what it truly is, only to find out that it’s fucking damianos of akielos sent to him as a sex slave. a jab at laurent’s trauma about auguste and also a jab at laurent’s frigid sexuality - which ofc is completely the regent’s fault. fuck that guy so much lmfao 

“‘It’s so rare to see you at these entertainments, Your Highness,’ said Vannes.” Captive Prince, Chapter Two.

this is right before the fight between govart and damen in the ring, of course. damen sees laurent as depraved and vile as the sexual sadism on display by the veretian court, and considers him to be a willing purveyor of it. this is wrong, of course, as said by vannes here. laurent has only shown up because he wants to humiliate damen lmfao.

“He did remember being supported by two of the guards, here, in this room, while Radel stared athis back in horror. ‘The Prince really . . . did this.’ ‘Who else?’ Damen said. Radel had stepped forward, and slapped Damen across the face; it was a hard slap, and the man wore three rings on each finger. ‘What did you do to him?’ Radel demanded.” Captive Prince, Chapter Four

this scene, to me, was the most telling lmfao. it’s right after damen is whipped. you could argue that radel is just a servant in the employ of the royal household, so is of course going to be loyal to the prince, but he seems genuinely surprised of the prince’s cruelty towards damen. not only that, but he slaps him and immediately assumes damen must have done something. which - i mean, technically he did lmao. not necessarily enough to deserve having the skin flayed from his back, but you know. if laurent was in the habit of torturing pets and slaves, why would the overseer react this way?

“The men guarding him were the Prince’s Guard, and had no affiliation with the Regent whatsoever. It surprised Damen how loyal they were to their Prince, and how diligent in his service, airing none of the grudges and complaints that he might have expected, considering Laurent’s noxious personality. Laurent’s feud with his uncle they took up wholeheartedly; there were deep schisms and rivalries between the Prince’s Guard and the Regent’s Guard, apparently.” Captive Prince, Chapter Four

laurents relationships with his guards are also some of the biggest indicators that he isn’t just a spoiled brat, but can insire a deep loyalty in his men. even if they do all want to fuck him. ah, sexual harassment. it’s also hilarious that damen immediately assumes they’re loyal to him because they want to fuck him - nice projection there, dude. we know a bit more about laurent and his guards thanks to green but for a season, but this little bit here is interesting.

“Laurent was indeed good at talking. He accepted sympathy gracefully. He put his position rationally. He stopped the flow of talk when it became dangerously critical of his uncle. He said nothing that could be taken as an open slight on the Regency. Yet no one who talked to him could have any doubt that his uncle was behaving at best misguidedly and at worst treasonously.”  Captive Prince, Chapter Five

idek what to say here. laurent my beloved <3333

“‘When someone doesn’t like you very much, it isn’t a good idea to let them know that you care about something,’ said Laurent. Damen felt himself turn ashen, as the threat sank in. ‘Would it hurt worse than a lashing for me to cut down someone you care for?’ said Laurent.” Captive Prince, Chapter Seven

this isn’t really relevant to my thesis lmfao i just love this exchange bc it gives SO MUCH information about laurent and his uncle in just three lines of dialogue. what has the regent done, who did he cut down just to hurt laurent? when and how did laurent learn that? p a i n 

“Laurent’s fussy horse began acting out again, and he leaned forward in the saddle, murmuring something as he stroked her neck in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture to quiet her.” Captive Prince, Chapter Nine. 

HORSEY NO- lmfao this scene just hurts so badly on the reread. especially later on, in book 3 i think, where laurent says something like “i provoked my uncle.” he’s really blaming himself for his uncle KILLING HIS HORSE, his horse that his murdered brother trained, one of the only living connections to auguste... all because his uncle could not let a single miniscule plan laurent had set go through without some kind of repercussion. literally all laurent did was do something to stop an innocent group of people from being abused, nothing to undermine his uncle’s rule, but because the regent is VILE he could not let laurent have even this. he’s so good with her, too. he must have known by this point and also known that there was no way to stop this. P A I N

“‘I know that you have somehow arranged this,’ said Erasmus. He was incapable of hiding what he felt, and just seemed to radiate embarrassed happiness. ‘You kept your promise. You and your master. I told you he was kind,’ Erasmus said. ‘You did,’ said Damen. He was pleased to see Erasmus happy. Whatever Erasmus believed about Laurent, Damen wasn’t going to dissuade him. ‘He’s even nicer in person. Did you know he came and talked to me?’ said Erasmus. ‘—He did?’ said Damen. It was something he couldn’t imagine. ‘He asked about . . . what happened in the gardens. Then he warned me. About last night.’ ‘He warned you,’ said Damen. ‘He said that Nicaise would make me perform before the court and it would be awful, but that if I was brave, something good might come at the end of it.’ Erasmus looked up at Damen curiously. ‘Why do you look surprised?’ ‘I don’t know. I shouldn’t be. He likes to plan things in advance,’ said Damen.” Captive Prince, Chapter 9.

this is the first in-text confirmation we have that laurent has a good heart beneath his layers and layers of trauma-induced lashing out. book one often skeeves people out because of its graphic and, honestly, yes, kind of sexualized depiction of rape, slavery, and depravity, but beneath it all you meet these two protagonists who are going to have all of their most deeply held views about each other challenged. laurent from very early on is shaken to his core when damen refuses to rape nicaise in the ring - it cracks the very foundations of the person he’d built up in his head as this horrible monster who killed his brother in cold blood. and damen keeps defying laurents expectations by being a good person through and through. on the other hand, laurent spends the first part of the book taking out years of anger on damen, but here for the first time we see him do something just because its the kind thing to do. yes, torveld is an ally against his uncle, but laurent has clearly been scheming with him for a while now, and he’s now overlooking his hatred of damen and working with him just because none of the slaves deserve whats happened to them. it’s such a sweet moment.

“One of the other men, eyeing them, approached a moment later. ‘Don’t mind Jean. He’s in a foul mood. He was the one had to stick a sword through the mare’s throat and put her down. The Prince tore strips off him for not doing it fast enough.’” Captive Prince, Chapter Nine.

HORSEY NO- pt 2. this is just another really sweet and sad detail - laurent being so upset that the horse’s death could have been more painless. it must have hurt so much to see her in pain, and to know that the only way for that pain to end was being put down as quickly as possible. i wuv him. im sad

that’s it, though there are still a few more chapters left in the book. this isn’t providing any new information, of course, the path of the three books is to show that laurent isnt the man we meet in book one, that he’s actually sweet, and earnest, and he’s been fighting his own battle practically alone against his abuser since he was fifteen years old. also, the reveal that laurent knew who damianos was from the start makes it clear imo that all of his violence in book 1 was supposed vengence, not... him being evil. he apologizes explicitly in-text, and also, all of the acts of violence he commits cause serious problems for him in terms of his future alliance which he then needs to fix. i just love how layered these books are, how there’s so much information in them that makes rereading almost more fun than reading them for the very first time!

[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.”