#they can just make music. people can and will make music w strings forever and ever

[partyswirl]

is there anything more beautiful than an object havign a lot of strings ... harps and looms and piano insides. strings are awesomeee and come in many different parts and in many different things. even wires are like strings to me. telephone lines. idk what quantum computers have going on but thats strings to me. angelic quality for an object to have i think

[thatwasntverycashmoneyofme]

𝗌𝗁𝗁𝗁𝗁

❥𝗌𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗍 : 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗎𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗁𝖺’𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 (𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍)

{ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 — 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖼𝗈𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 (𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾/𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇), 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝖽𝗈𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗉𝗏 𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. }

"damn could you shut the fuck up; if one my brothers find out, that's your ass~" you breathily gasp as hands gripped you by the waist.

  "ahh f-fuck i can't help it y-you're grinding so good on me" he let out loud moan once again. your brothers are football champs in college so they know a lot of people and get invited to a lot of parties also throwing some which led up to this current situation-

the madara uchiha, star center player, under you— face flushed and hands gripping onto the soft of your brown skin, whimpering for you to give him the raw friction he craved, while in a bathroom of a college party specifically your brothers'

you placed a hand over his mouth and stopped your grinding causing him to let out an exasperated groan. "who would've thought- that one of the big bad star players of the konoha state football team be under lil chubby ol' me hmm~"

you continued to taunt him "especially an uchiha, ooh what would they think if they saw you getting bitched right now? what gossip would go around on campus?" you hummed, other hand lightly pulling at his long hair

he removed your hand from his mouth pressing a kiss on the palm "w-who the fuck cares and i'll be quiet so... ride me now please~" you sucked in a breath and smiled at him sadistically as he shivered

  "fine babyboy—" you kissed his neck nipping it "I bet not hear a peep" slightly rising off of him, he unbuckled his pants letting them drop at his ankles, droopy lust filled eyes watching as you pulled your dress up revealing your naked figure

his eyes rolled back as he sunk his bottom lip into his teeth "fuck you're trying to kill me (y/n), why don't you have on any panties" you shrugged "didn't look right with the dress"

  you pumped his dick spreading the pre, aligning him with yourself sinking down on top. he whimpered out a string of curses as he gripped, once again, at your hips and rested his head in between your face and neck

  "fuck I'm trying so hard not to moan as loud as I can but damn you're squeezing me in so tight" He mumbles into your neck bottoming out his fat tip hitting your spot making you clench "ahhh~ shit d-dont do that" his dick throbbed inside of you as you licked your lips

  "lean back baby I'll make you feel real good,  just remember what I told you" your palm pressing against his chest pushing him back, he nodded his head speaking "...to be quiet?" "good boy" you smirked

———————————————

it's a good thing that the music of the party was louder than the wet slapping sounds of your pussy as it was being dragged up and down madaras dick who was barely keeping himself together

  "fuck baby you hear how wet that pussy is uggh~"  "s-shit yea baby"

  "shit you made my pussy so wet look at me creaming" "fuck yea baby creaming my dick —holding me tight"

"fuucck, this your pussy ain't it? tell me baby" "yes mama it's my pussy, all mine~, fuck it's all mine, you're about to milk me dry"

you bounced on him grabbing his face, making him look in your eyes "fuck M you look so pretty like this baby I could ride you forever" you bit your lip as he pulsed inside of you he was getting very close and so were you

  "fuck (y/n) imma cum, fu-fuck~ ima cum, can I cum?" he begged you, yelping. you rode him faster, clit brush against his pelvis causing you to get closer to your high

  "fucking—dammit I need it, I need to cum~...lemme cum" he drooled a bit as you gave him the go-ahead, thrusting up into your plush pussy, riding out his nut mumbling thanks, stopping as he let out soft moans

but, grinding onto him fast, he moaned out hugging your waist tightly "fuck I'm sensitive baby~ I'm so f-fucking sensitive~" you continued rutting against him "shit babyboy i'm almost there, you're doing so good for me baby, it's my turn now okay?"

he shuddered as you clamp down into his semi erect dick  making him let out one last stream of cum "you did so good baby now let's clean up" he nods sleepily at you as you kissed his forehead

—————————————————

you're sat on the couch in your brothers living room nursing a cold bottle of water, watching the party around you. legs tingling like tv static with a dreamy smile on your face, you couldn't care because you had no intentions of getting up

  "what's got you all giddy?" your older brother sat down next to you slumping into the couch "nothing tobi. how was your night?" "a fucking nightmare, your brother knows too many damn people and especially the ones I hate" he sulked which caused you to giggle

  "well you just never give people a chance, you'll like them once you get to know them" your other older brother hunched over the couch in between you two "tch as if" tobi said sucking his teeth

  "how are you liking the party tonight little sister?? made any new friends?? are you having fun??" he asked questions back to back making you laugh "yes the party is fine Hashi, i've made quite a few friends, and i'm having a bunch of fun"

"that's good (y/n), at least one of my little siblings is having a good time" he smiled as tobi rolled his eyes tsking out a soft 'whatever'

  "I know you haven't met all of our team members yet so let me introduce you" hashirama cheesed flagging over three boys "here's Yamato, Madara and Shika who sits the bench as a water boy. dudes this is my little sister"

you waved at them saying it was nice to meet them as you studied madaras stiff body your eyes glinted at the realization you both came to

  'I didn't know that tobirama and hashirama were her brothers'

'he didn't know that tobi and hashi were my brothers, i'm soo gonna have fun with this' you thought calling out to him as he was about to walk away

"hey pretty boy" you grinned as he points to himself, causing you to nod. "what's that on your neck?" you giggled as he paled, your brothers looking a madaras neck "wow it looks like you got laid" your oldest brother slammed his hands down on his teammates shoulder "who was the lucky lady?"

  "yea it looks like it was good, who is she?" a hint of mischief fell from your voice as you looked him up and down before staring into his eyes "i-i ran into a wall... yea a wall, that just apparently popped out of nowhere... umm I gotta go" he rushed away from the scene hearing your brother yell about 'seeing him on the field tomorrow'

you laughed as hashirama pointed his thumb in the direction the boy ran "what's wrong with him?" he questioned as you just shrugged mumbling something along the lines of 'he's your teammate' as you laughed to yourself

....oh yea you were gonna have a lot of fun.

𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌. 𝖣𝖮𝖭𝖳 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾. ©𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅

[luviestarz]

txt pt 4

HOW TXT TELLS YOU THEY'RE IN THE MOOD

💌 — when you listen to their songs ; ot5 txt

—｛🎂｝MEMBER LOOKING AT YOU; W/ TUBATU

txt choi line - they get jealous

ㅡ txt when you fall asleep on another member

warning: yandere - beomgyu

“nothing. without you– i’m… nothing.” + beomgyu (yandere)

[ #eadcc3 ] — choi beomgyu (yandere)

dom!gyu being on top of you, pinning your arms above your head with one arm, holding your jaw with the other while he's towering over you. you're being pounded mercilessly, looking at the gorgeous face right above you when he smirks at you and tells you to open your mouth <3

alone time | choi soobin - smut

back into you - choi beomgyu

beomgyu is a sweetheart and you just want to be his friend

YANDERE!BEOMGYU

non-idol! choi beomgyu x widow(er)! reader. (yandere)

clingy beomgyu. | soft thoughts

· ° . ࿐𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 | C.BG

when the love of a best friend exceeds, it’s time to confess to him first. however, you never knew he had fallen for you from the very start.

call you later - beomgyu

beomgyu swears women fall at his feet and he's in fact, single by choice—what better way to prove this to you than collecting the numbers of random people on the street?

[ BIRTHDAY CAKE. ] c. beomgyu

in which, beomgyu and you struggle to make a cake for beomgyu’s birthday.

dry humping w/ beomgyu <3

how txt will teach you how to suck or ride their dick...

ㅡ sick - beomgyu

perv gyu

forever only you. - beomgyu

when an old friend draws your attention away from your boyfriend, he can’t help but get jealous

[🐯] i got you - beomgyu

STUPID LOVE ( choi beomgyu ) ˶ 𓈒𓍼

you've been in love with choi beomgyu since 8th grade but you never said anything to him, fearing it'll ruin your friendship with one of your friends, who mysteriously likes him too, but what if one day at a party he kisses you and now you can't stop thinking about him and act as if nothing happened?

the ole pervert neighbor trope - beomgyu

as you are struggling to carry a load of laundry across the parking lot back to your apartment, your neighbor spots you - short shorts, ass swaying left to right... and comes to the conclusion that it would be wrong to follow you back to your place. 

...right?

collaborating with txt.

as an idol, there are many opportunities for you to express yourself via music. this also means collaborating with others with the same interests as you

COFFEE, choi line (txt) comforting you ♡

txt reacting to you freaking out about a bug.

M𝗶LK & C𝗢𝗢K𝗶𝗘S! ── DOMESTiC ACTS.

Milkshakes - beomgyu

retro “date” with beomgyu

txt’s reaction to their s/o being asked out ⋆˚｡⋆↯˚

totally unlabeled kisses - beomgyu

in which you and beomgyu teeter between being normal best friends and well...best friends who makeout from time to time.

the suitor. - beomgyu

despite being one in five suitors for your royal highness, prince beomgyu makes it his mission to have you fall in love with him.. even if it means being clingy

white dress - beomgyu

red string of fate - soobin

you live in a world where soulmates existed. everyone is connected by an invisible string, it decides if that person is the one for you or not. the only moment you can see the string is when you've realized your feelings for the right person, your soulmate.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ [4:04 pm] - soobin

(so tell me more) about love - yeonjun

after the success of his valentine's day love letter, yeonjun has only one chance to win y/n over...can he do it? or will he screw things over?

photobooth. - beomgyu

even though you and beomgyu have been together for three months, you two have yet to share a kiss. on his day off, the two of you venture outside and come across a photo booth. perhaps a few pictures might finally motivate the both of you to take action.

you fall asleep on another member’s shoulder ♡

glitter. ☆ : ･ﾟ✧ *

as you find yourself stuck on a deserted island, you meet five boys who happened to be living there. you begin to notice something different about the boys as you attempt to find a way back home. with no sense of boundaries and strange glitter all over their bodies, your curiosity of who or what these boys are peaks. you begin getting close to the strangers, them helping you on your journey, but it leads you into a spiral of your own thoughts and emotions. now feeling some sort of connection to the five boys, the question begs: will you even end up leaving? if not, which boy makes you stay?

storage room smooch - yeonjun

you want to show your super sporty and athletic boyfriend yeonjun just how supportive you can be.

7 minutes in heaven with txt

yandere beomgyu

sub bully yandere. Tries bullying you for attention but fails horribly after you responds back even worse

beomgyu : video games

tipsy beomgyu (m)

*ೃ unconventional sex

synopsis. where they'd like to fuck outside of the boring ol’ bedroom.

☾.⋆*･.10:21 p.m. (m) — choi soobin

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

gamer/streamer!choi beomgyu x f!reader

[junebugwriter]

Loki Season 2 Doesn't Understand Loki

The fundamental flaw in a season that means nothing

Spoilers below.

I think we need to talk about Loki.  

People who know me know that I don’t like superhero and comic book movies. I love them. And that’s why I’m so critical of them. I can blame my brother on getting me into comics in high school, but the fact that long after that I keep coming back to the well speaks to what I love about them. Comics are the blending of prose and visual artistry, of character and medium. Every comic is a conversation between artists. Television and film, likewise, are another variation on that same theme.  

However, like any other kind of media, its greatest strengths can also fall victim to their greatest enemy: the companies that own them. 

Marvel Studios and the Marvel Cinematic Universe began as a simple concept: translate the idea of comic book universes onto the big screen. Let the comic company own the movies that bring their stories to the masses. When Disney bought Marvel, lock stock and barrel, it also brought truckloads of cash and prestige with it. This proved to be a Faustian bargain in the end, because what happens when the infinite money machine begins to grow too large to handle? Things begin to break down. 

Loki Season 2 is this metaphor brought to life. 

Everything Will Be The Same Ever Again 

The first season ended promisingly enough. Loki and his alternate timeline gender swapped variant Sophie finally find He Who Remains, the man behind the curtains that the Marvel Cinematic Universe has been building up to. He’s the one who pulls the strings, paves the road, and decides the Sacred Timeline ™—in other words, this is the man who decides Marvel Canon.  

Season 1 ended exactly as I hoped it would: Sophie, tired of being controlled, did the thing that gods of mischief and chaos are supposed to do. She killed the man behind the curtain. In so doing, she unspooled the Sacred Timeline ™ in the name of free will, allowing for infinite universes to be borne from the infinite choices made every moment by every being in existence. She gave birth to the multiverse. She broke the system.  

Obviously, this could not last.   

Loki season 1 promised that the universe would be forever altered by the actions of Loki and Sophie, and for a while, this seemed to be the case. Most of the recent phase of Marvel output has revolved, for better or worse, with the introduction of the concept of multiple realities. This has been used somewhat as more or less a vehicle for Brand Integration ™ and less as a vehicle for, you know, good storytelling. Yes, we’ve been promised Fantastic Four and X-men movies, but those aren’t even really in the works currently. They’ve been stuck in development hell for years since acquisition. All we’ve gotten is a couple of winks and nods, a musical sting, and N’amor, which all things being fair, was great, but N’amor has always been his own thing and a mutant in name only, story-wise. Otherwise, it’s been fine, but far from the promised chaos that Loki season 1 alluded to. 

Additionally, there’s the problem of character. Loki in mythology is less a villain but more of an antagonist, a trickster character that causes problems and meddles in the affairs of others for little reason else besides “he wanted to.” He’s mercurial by nature, and that works very, very well for mythology. It works for the purposes of “this is how the world is, this is why things are the way they are, and this is how the world will end.” Loki’s presence is not malevolent, but rather genuinely chaotic. He will do what he wants, and usually only to satisfy himself. He often seems unable to really control himself, let alone anyone else. He does things because he loves just making things happen, and if he winds up with what he wants, it’s all the better.  

In the comics and the films, he’s much more cast as a villain. In the films, he desires the throne of Asgard, to be the rightful ruler of people. Failing to win Asgard, he seeks out Earth as an agent of Thanos. Failing that, he meanders long enough in the background to have fun when dealing with Thor, and that’s about it. He finally dies an ignoble death by Thanos, and that was to be the end of him. Loki the TV series is not the same Loki we saw die. This Loki is an alternate timeline variant, and after having his ego broken by the Time Variance Authority, he seeks out another variant, Sophie, who has been causing problems for the TVA. 

If all that gives you a bit of a headache, don’t worry. That’s just the comic fan experience. Comics, and superhero stories, are of a kindred spirit with Soap Operas: not only are they highly melodramatic, often made up on the fly, and filled with colorful characters, but they’re also designed to go on FOREVER. That’s the beauty of them. The characters, and the universe, frequently default to a certain status quo. Sure, every few years, something comes along that promises to Change the Universe Forever, but that often amounts to one weird tweak and then it's back to the races as usual. The bad guy comes along to challenge the hero, hero must thwart whatever plan the villain has, and all is well. That’s the rhythm of the comic book story, and that works quite well for executives... to a point. So, what happens when people start to get tired of the same old story? They change the status quo on paper, and hope nobody notices that the structure of it all is still intact.  

That was the promise of Loki Season 1. See? We have a multiverse now! Please, be distracted by this CHAOS long enough to not realize that we are still in control of everything, and everything is fine.  

That last sentence? That’s the plot of season 2. See, Sophie killed He Who Remains, and the multiverse exists. The TVA is designed by HWR to maintain the Sacred Timeline ™. With the Sacred Timeline ™ now in chaos, everything in the universe is going haywire. That means timelines are unraveling. The plot now follows Loki, his hetero life mate Mobius, and a cast of fun, colorful characters, racing against time to keep time from unspooling, and the multiverse from completely falling apart. 

Mr. Loki’s Wild Ride 

“Loki” is a show meant to turn Loki from the god of mischief and chaos to... a hero, somehow. One who wants to fight to maintain an autocratic, bureaucratic organization that wasn’t very good at its job in the first place because the alternative is... chaos. According to the plot, this chaos takes the form of nothingness. Lack of existence. See, without an imposed order, nothing can exist! Therefore, reality NEEDS someone or some entity to maintain order in some way so that everything can keep on existing.  

But why is this the case? Why does reality need a temporal loom or a man behind the curtain? The show doesn’t do a very good job of explaining why everything ceases to exist the moment that the Temporal Loom, the machine that maintains the Sacred Timeline ™ other than “that’s just how it all works,” and really, it doesn’t even tell us that. It just shows time unraveling, sans explanation. How did time exist before the Temporal Loom, you ask? Loki, for all its technobabble and endlessly recurrent exposition, is not actually interested in explaining that bit. You see, it was chaos and war and death before, or it’s nothingness. Which is it? Why is it? It’s a nihilistic and frustrating bit of worldbuilding that leads to nothing.  

This nihilism is a kind of narrative reinforcement technique. By the end of it, Loki has figured out how to control time itself, after much trial and error, as well as another conversation with He Who Remains. Yet in that conversation, he learns a fundamental truth about the MCU: He who makes the difficult decisions gets to sit on the throne. He Who Remains is supposedly one such person. In his stead, at the end, Loki does the same. He wrests control of the timelines, bundles them up into a cape, and seats himself on the throne of He Who Remains. As such, he recreates Yggdrasil, the world tree of Norse mythology, the tree upon which all the realms rest. You see? Everything goes back to normal, now that someone is in control. 

But wait a minute. Why would Loki ever make this choice? Loki early in the show figures out he doesn’t want a throne. He doesn’t want control. All he ever wanted was to be loved and known and understood. That is the true desire at the heart of his character. It’s beautiful, and poignant, and speaks to my own heart. In Sophie, he found someone who does know and understand him. Is it narcissistic to love a gender variant of yourself? Probably! But it makes sense for him. Because he is a mercurial person. He doesn’t really understand even himself, and because of that, it results in mischief and chaos. That’s who he is. He is a chaos god.  

By the end of the show though, he’s learned and grown... what? To love order? To love bureaucracy? To love control? That’s what it’s saying when he takes the throne! I understand that this is Loki learning what it means to be a hero, but is that really what it means? To let go of your defining characteristic? To lose what makes you... you? To undergo true ego death so that the world itself can keep on spinning upon your skeleton? For all its over-explanation, Loki the show isn’t interested in answering much of anything. It’s poetic that he gives up his life so that reality can continue, but this seems rather pointless, in the end. Instead of embracing himself, he denies his identity to sit on a throne he doesn’t want. That’s no god of chaos and mischief. That is the god of stability, order, and the status quo.  

That’s not Loki.  

Pay no attention to the executive behind the curtain 

I understand the mercenary reasons for these choices. I understand that the universe must keep spinning, and the infinite money machine must keep on making money. But to do so, they need to kill the defining characteristics of their beloved characters, and that just makes it all so thin, flimsy and frustrating. There are some amazing moments in this show! Everything with Sophie, Mobius, and Ouroboros is excellent. The characters make this nonsense story shine, long enough to make you hopefully realize that it doesn’t even make internal sense. 

As someone who analyses stories for a living, it’s impossible to see this apart from the concept of capitalist realism, whose central maxim is this: It’s easier to believe in the end of the world rather than the end of capitalism. Substitute “capitalism” with “the underlying bureaucracy upon which the world rests and runs itself” and that becomes just the text of Loki. It’s easier to imagine the end of reality than the end of the TVA, and the end of the autocrat who sits on top of the pyramid. The Universe is run by a corrupt pyramid scheme, but it’s that or nothingness! So, you NEED someone to run things like this, otherwise it’s all void.  

That’s what this story is saying—but why does it need to say this? Why do we need someone sitting on a throne? For a character like Loki whose entire character is anarchy incarnate, this simply just rings hollow.  

And so, I am frustrated. I want to like “Loki.” It has some great moments and is a lot of fun. But at the end of the day, it does the character of Loki wrong but having to reinforce the status quo, and when your central character who is defined by causing mischief, maintaining the status quo is a terrible way to end your series.  

[sob-sister]

Ok- which one of us anons are gonna take it there, play IP attorney like an episode of Suits so we can get some tea? Me? Ok I volunteer..

Because him leaving Atlantic would make everything tie together. No wonder there hasn’t been music.

Jackman had ZERO features. CHTKMY and TWTAS had plenty and he was making ROUNDS chile! Kanye, Breezy, Big Sean, Bryson.. Pharrell, JT…

Makes you think about if he goes independent who’s going to help him get those features? Who’s going to push the album?

I wonder also if Atlantic just isn’t happy with him not keeping up with that persona orrr Maybe he isn’t happy with them trying to push that persona so he laid back. Drama has other artists he could be pushing and networking for. I doubt they’d want to do it for someone who is tired of it or plateau’d.

The foundation too.. I wonder who runs all the behind the scenes. I sit on the chair for the foundation at my job for galas and other charitable events and it’s A LOT that goes into it staffing wise, tax wise, etc. there’s probably a lot of people we don’t see or know about business wise. I’m so nosey!

Y’all really be adding 2+2 on this page and getting 20387. Amazing. Now I’m in my office at work with the strings and thumb tacks tying things together.

P.S. glad he’s finally done w whatever those homie private garden mess. They irked me so badly. The only one I notice he’s with often is Ace. I like Ace 🤷🏽‍♀️.

Also I think Urb maybe around forever because Jack has attachment issues 😭????

-🫂.

i'll take his email and laptops contents too. lol. i am not sure how labels and all the business stuff works, so i won't be yapping too much about what i don't know. i think jack wants the job, but not the fame that comes with it and that's not something that can be afforded to him right now.

maggie and brian (his parents) are the founders of the jack foundation. she is also the executive director, so she does all the managing of the operations.

we do move at lightning speed around here. 😂 you will get the hang of it shortly.

i have no problem with urban being around, but i do take issue with his inability to do his damn job!

see you soon. :)

[revols-headcanons]

dead end: paranormal park headcanons

logs, although he wants to be an actor, hates musicals because he finds the songs repetitive and tedious. he wants to be a film major with a minor in english literature. in contrast, josh (who has a neutral view on musicals) wants to be a film major with a minor in some business course.

norma’s next hyperfixation after pauline is not only supernatural demon things, but books and shows that also analyze potential unearthly things. norma scoffs when she watches those fake ghost shows.

badyah learns that she’s aro ace and she’s like “wow, i didn’t know I could think men are objectively attractive without being romantically or sexually attracted to them.”

courtney is non binary and uses any pronouns. barney asks why they chose a feminine name (bc there’s a decent amount of genderqueer people who use either gender neutral or non-human names (i.e: alex or brick)) and courtney responds with “I like the vibe of the name. it gives off troll energy.”

logs can play the guitar but only kind of? he tries to brag (show off) to barney and then fumbles around with it, missing many strings, but getting a decent play through of a song.

barney’s family -> his grandma is a bigot but (before she was told that barney was trans), she would buy barney anything and help him with whatever. after she learned that barney’s not only trans, but also gay, she immediately stopped funding his hobbies. his parents didn’t even acknowledge it until after canon. barney was such a good older sibling for patrick (until there was a brief gender crisis barney had which pushed everyone out), which is why patrick cares for him so much. when barney told his parents about being trans, they were like “ooh idk kiddo, that’s going to be uncomfortable to explain don’t you think?” while patrick was like “aww sweet a brother now!” and immediately got it.

norma’s family -> her father is dead, her mother is the most supportive mother alive, and her older sister (in graphic novel she has a sister) has a general distaste for her. her sister makes passive aggressive comments about norma’s (autistic) behavior— not noticeable enough to be considered bigotry but not unnoticeable. her mother, ever the one to avoid conflict, says that her sisters just angry at xyz factors. norma never really sees her sister due to working at phoenix parks, school, and her sister being in college.

log’s family -> his mother is unaware that she’s homophobic. like she’ll say something like “who’s the man in the relationship” without realizing the response will be “both of us.” that’s the main reason he hasn’t come out to her yet. his sister is 100% an ally who squealed when she learned. she was like “oh my god that makes so much sense. that’s why you seemed bored whenever I tried to set you up on a date with a girl!” his parents are divorced so he hasn’t seen his father in years.

badyah’s family -> her family in general just doesn’t really care for lgbt+ things because it’s never really affected them until now. badyah has to make a whole slideshow presentation for her family describing what aro ace is and what that means for her future. her family is like “okay…? just say ur going to be single forever w no kids?” to her, which isn’t entirely accurate for some aroace people, but badyah’s like “… close enough!”

zagan and norma in fact don’t end up dating because norma doesn’t jump from crush to crush easily, and she doesn’t get romantic feelings (at most zagan is a rejection rebound). they do become friends though who shit talk the angels.

out of barney, norma, logs, badyah, courtney, and josh, josh is the token straight cis white man of the group, and he’s constantly given (joking) shit for it. i would add pugsley to being a token… straight? but that’s a literal dog.

[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.”

[stardusttrashed]

Lovestruck (Finale)

Part 4

Pairing: Professor Erwin x Fem! Reader, Connie x Sasha

Word Count: 2K

A/N: A huge thanks to everyone who stuck around for this series and showed it some love. also, if you haven't already go check out the playlist I made that gives professor Erwin vibes :)

“Sorry I’m late, Mr. Smith,” you squeaked as you squeezed past the door into the old familiar room. “Hope you didn’t haveta wait too long,” you smiled apologetically.

Erwin turned around, looking up from the whiteboard he was writing away on. He smiled handsomely, quietly sighing in relief, “actually, you’re right on time as usual.” He closed the distance between you before placing a kiss on your forehead. “How much’d you spend? I’ll pay you back,” he reassured you as he led you towards his desk.

“You can pay me back by coming to movie night,” you purred, quickly throwing the idea out there as you took a seat on his desk. You rummaged through the plastic bag, taking out two to-go boxes as Erwin rolled his desk chair over. “You’ve been officially invited by Thing One and Thing Two. And they’ll probably lose their shit if I show up without you.”

“Sasha and Connie, right?” he confirmed. You hummed in response. Erwin tensed up momentarily once he saw you sitting on his desk, sinful thoughts running rampant in his mind. He was curious how much of a good girl you’d be for him. Or if you’d let him eat something else for lunch. It didn’t make it any better that you still had his shirt on. A blush painted his cheeks as he pushed the thoughts down, plopping in his seat and scooting closer until he was sitting between your legs, “I’d love to, darling.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, occasionally broken by strings of giggles as you stuffed your faces with the Chinese food you brought. You took turns feeding spoonfuls of each other's food to the other, goofy, uncontrollable, lovestruck smiles printed on your faces. There was so much you both wanted to say to each other, wanting to ask about the other’s day, or ask trivial things, or address what you were. But neither could muster the courage to break the moment. So instead, you spoke through lingering touches and longing gazes.

“Erwin,” a familiar voice said dryly, followed by the footsteps of them entering the room. “Found your sandwich in the fridge in the staff room.” Erwin’s eyes went wide, more surprised about being caught than the actual sandwich. “Figured I’d bring it before you starve.”

You sent Erwin a playfully threatening glare, “you had food?! I- you little,” you quickly hissed, stopping short as Erwin apologetically squeezed your thigh.

Erwin chuckled embarrassedly, removing the hand on your thigh to scratch the back of his neck. “I must’ve forgot.” He looked back and forth between you and Levi, both of you looking back at him with unconvinced expressions. He was busted for sure.

“Right,” Levi drawled out as his eyes scanned the desk, taking in the to-go boxes and how close you and Erwin were sitting. “At least you’re not starving. And glad to see the two of you finally grew a pair and made things official.”

“W-well,” you stuttered, to no avail. Levi was already walking out of the room, muttering something about how you should at least lock the door. Gradually, your shock shifted into overconfidence. “Missed me that much, huh? Pretty lame excuse if you ask me.”

“Shouldn’t be much of a surprise, darling,” Erwin cooed, his blue eyes practically filled with hearts. It felt like butterflies were coursing throughout his entire body as you leaned down to kiss him. It was short and sweet, just a lingering peck, yet you left him breathless. “Y/n, I- um.” He could feel the tips of his ears growing uncomfortably warm. Your soft giggles weren’t helping either. “Hold on.”

You watched as Erwin struggled to hold onto his cool. It was still weird, no matter how many times you saw him grow flustered. He was the gorgeous giant of a man that left men and women alike flustered, yourself included. Yet, you always seemed to be the one to turn the tables without doing anything but being yourself. He wasn’t some Greek God, okay, well looks-wise, yes. And personality-wise. Okay, maybe he was a Greek god, but that didn’t stop him from being a friendly giant or a big cinnamon roll around you.

“I, uh,” he quickly glanced up at you before returning his focus to the journal he pulled out of his desk drawer. “I got you this,” he held the small journal out to you.

You gingerly took it from him. A thin gold rope chain tucked away in the journal as a bookmark tapped your hand as it swayed from the movement. You prayed he couldn’t see the way your cheeks grew warm as you opened the journal to the page the chain rested against. In the center of the lined paper lay a key strung on the chain. The key wasn’t anything fancy, just a plain house key that covered a neatly written note. You glanced up at Erwin momentarily before moving aside the key to read the note aloud. “I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self-respect. And it’s these things I’d believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn’t all she should be. I love her, and it is the beginning of everything. F. Scott Fitzgerald,” you read, your throat growing tighter with every word.

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m rushing anything,” Erwin quickly spoke up once you finished reading. “I just, well, I figured you could use my place as a place to write and get some inspiration. I don’t want to pressure you, though. This can be completely platonic, and we can ignore-.”

You set the journal aside and stopped his nervous rambling with a kiss. Your lips moved lazily against each other, savoring everything from the moment to the taste of one another. Time seemed to slow as you lost yourself in the softness of his lips and the warmth of his hands on your hips. You could feel him surrendering to you, giving you everything he could until he was left with nothing, not even a breath… until you reluctantly pulled away. You rested your forehead on his, your eyebrows knitted together as you tried to catch your breath enough to say something.

“And for a moment, I thought I loved him,” you breathed, altering the quote slightly to fit the situation more. Your breath fanned across his lips, giving him visible chills as you continued, “but I am slow-thinking and full of interior rules that act as brakes on my desires.”

“Committing Great Gatsby quotes to memory, are we,” Erwin teased, his voice husky as he finally managed to catch his breath.

“Only the most beautiful ones that’ll impress my professors, er, used to be professors.”

“Consider the job done then.” Erwin looked at you like you were the only one, not just now, but forever. His ocean eyes shone like he was looking at the sun, and in a way, he was. You always were a star that he couldn’t help but gravitate to. He lost you for a while, but just like the planets orbiting around the sun, he managed to find his way back to your warmth.

You reached out and pushed a stray hair back into place, “not polite to stare, baby. Even if ya look cute doing it.”

“Dance with me,” Erwin blurted. He needed to hold you, to bask in your warmth. He wanted to do what he should’ve last night, holding you close as you swayed to music that could better articulate the feelings he has for you.

“What?”

Erwin chuckled and shrugged, “dance with me, and I’ll stop.” He stood up with a devilish grin on his face. “Just one dance?”

“Erwin, I don’ think this is the place-” you were cut off by Erwin scooping you up into his strong arms bridal style. You held onto him despite feeling utterly safe as he maneuvered his way out of the classroom. “Baby, where are you taking me?” you squealed with childlike giddy.

“To a place we can dance,” Erwin looked down at you with a wicked smile as he walked out of the building with you still cradled close to his chest. The soft drizzle of rain welcomed the both of you, which made you squeal and hurriedly attempt to cover your head.

“Erwin Smith, take me back inside before I kick your ass!”

“No, can do; you said we couldn’t dance in the classroom.” He sent a kind smile to the people passing by. “Besides, as sweet and sugary as you are, you won’t melt.”

“You don’t know that.” You smacked your hand against his chest, “I hate you right now.” The soft drizzle was gradually becoming a steady stream of droplets that made any efforts to protect your hair futile. With a huff, you gave up, allowing the rain to return your hair to its natural state gradually. “Happy now?”

Erwin kissed the tip of your nose before gently setting you back on your feet underneath a large canopy tree. The twinkle of mischief in his eyes was a stark contrast to the soft apologies that tumbled from his mouth. “I promise, messing up your hair was not part of the plan.” His eyes flitted up to your curling hair, a proud smile forming on his face, “I was right, though. You look absolutely amazing, darling.”

You rolled your eyes, hoping it’d distract from the bashful smile tugging on your lips. “One dance,” you held up a finger for emphasis. “That’s it.”

“Just the one,” he gently pressed his lips against yours. “Unless you beg for more.” His laugh rumbled in his chest like quiet thunder as you playfully swatted his arm.

“Well, Mr. DJ, what’re gonna dance to?”

“No idea,” Erwin admitted with a bashful smile, looking up from his phone. “Just wanted an excuse to hold you close.” The soft, familiar strumming of a guitar filled the air before he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

With an outstretched hand, he looked at you with such genuine adoration that for a second, you forgot how to breathe. You slipped your hand into his, allowing him to guide your hands towards his shoulders. It felt silly, dancing in the middle of campus in the rain, and at the same time, it felt so surreal, like you two were straight out of a book.

“Only fools rush in,” Erwin quietly sang as he slid his hands around your hips. “But I can’t help fallin’ in love with you.” He had a smooth, calming singing voice like he was born to be a crooner. He didn’t sing around others often, not sober at least, but something about you made him feel like it was the right thing to do at this moment. Every word that fell from his lips was for you, and you only as you both sway in time with the music. He was yours, and the look in your eyes told him you were his.

You pressed yourself closer to him, the rest of the world slipping away. He was too warm, made you feel too secure for it to be reality. And yet, here he was, the man you secretly fell for years ago was in your arms singing Can’t Help Falling in Love to you. The increasing heaviness of the rain or people staring didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except him.

“I-,” you jumped at the sound of your ringtone, sending you plummeting back to reality with wide eyes. “S-sorry, I gotta,” you trailed off sheepishly as you pulled your phone out of your pocket before accepting the facetime call.

Erwin paused the music for you, trying to stay as quiet as possible as he played with your newly formed curls. It was hard for him to fight back the awestruck look on his face as your hair seemed to grow curlier by the second.

“Did you do it? Please tell me you did? I’ll do it for you,” Sasha bombarded you once you answered. She paused with wide eyes at the sound of Erwin’s amused chuckle. “Oh, my- is that him? Hi, Erwinie!”

“Wait, she did it?” You could hear Connie yell from somewhere offscreen. “Ha! You owe me twenty!”

You smiled apologetically at Erwin, who seemed quite amused with the situation. “Hi, Sasha,” Erwin cut in, laughing at the way she swooned after he said her name. “If we’re being technical, I was the one who did it.”

“Ha! I only owe you ten,” she exclaimed, sending Connie a face before focusing back on you and Erwin. “She invited you to movie night, right?”

“About that, why don’t you two come over to my place? I’ll even cook.”

“Careful before I steal him from you,” Sasha laughed. She was practically drooling already at the thought of free food.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but there’s only one girl for me.” He looked down at you with a confident smile, “she’s all I want and need.”

“What about guys?”

“Ew, you two are so cute it’s gross,” Sasha talked over Connie. “Get off my phone before ya make me sick.”

“Gladly,” you mused, giggles bubbling in your chest. “See y’all later.” You hung up before they could say anything else and turned your focus to Erwin. “I feel the same way, just so you know. Think you’re it for me.”

“I sure hope so cause I don’t plan on losing you again.”

[ererokii]

— broken strings and beautiful melodies

diluc r. x f!reader

Word Count: 9.6k Warnings: major character death, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, gore, this does not follow the og plot and lore/ some spoilers for “We Will be Reunited” Archon Quest Note: this is for Attack On Academia’s Mythology Summer Collab! Please be sure to check out the masterlist for everyone else’s works. They all worked super hard and it turned out amazing! And big thanks to @reddriot and @axther for betaing <3

Synopsis: A simple love story between the Pyro Archon, and a mortal.

taglist || masterlist || server link || collab masterlist

Another four days pass and it’s finally Friday. Fridays at Angel’s Share were no different from the ones prior. Exhausted adventurers and townspeople venture inside the tavern to drink their woes away, to forget, or to have a great time. It was annoying, to say the least—hearing the laughter and cheers bouncing off the walls.

However, Diluc had to say nothing was worse than a certain pigtail braided bard strutting in with his lyre. The redhead had no choice but to serve the bard his choice of drinks after figuring out his true identity (although he still makes him pay the whole total—even if the singer can’t find a way to pay). 

Like before, the bartender lifts his head up, crimson eyes boring into the crowd gathering beside the bard at the nearby table. 

The bard’s soft voice matches with the melody of his lyre, fingers pulling and gracefully sliding past the strings. His eyes closed, telling a story to the nearby peers and the quiet man standing behind the counter. A tale Diluc heard once, yet it weighed on him all the same.

“The story of this archon is no better than the rest, yet, the most tragic comes from the debris of war. The god of War was like no other. Loads of strength, yet grief and sorrows weigh him down like an anchor in the vast ocean. Love is a mere factor, yet love is one of the many things the god brought ruin to.”

-

With heavy footsteps, a red-haired male walks along the dirt path in no shoes, wearing the silkiest of robes one could ever obtain. He hums to himself, brushing a loose strand of hair away from his face, letting out a huff of annoyance when it falls right back into the same position as before. 

He breathes in the crisp air of the summer night, relishing the winds that brush across his skin. Summers in Natlan were one of a kind. While it was scorching in the morning, when the night came around, all was calm. The harsh rays turned into blissful winds that cleansed the land of heat. 

During the other seasons, it was never too cold, nor was it ever too hot. The temperature was just right for all men, women and children. 

Located in the southwestern region of Teyvat, Natlan was home to the Pyro Archon, known as The God of War. The god, Murata, is unlike any other god. Ruthless and fierce, he does not handle any threat lightly. Anything thrown his way, he does not hesitate. With kindness and love, Murata will no doubt protect his nation.

His statues are scattered across the land. Standing with his formal rags and cloak that shields his face, Murata holds his claymore in his right hand, the tip pointing down to symbolize his foes beneath him as he celebrates in victory.

In the night sky, his statues act like lights to guide those on safe journeys home or to neighboring nations. Along with being guides, the structures are used for a place of reverence. Often many would journey far and wide to pay thanks for everything he has done. 

In the center lies the biggest of them all, flowers and candles are set up around it for ceremonial purposes. Every night new plants were replaced for the days to come. Like the other Archons, Murata was grateful for his people. When roaming the land, he spots commoners on their knees by the base of the statue during the late of night or the crack of dawn. Not wanting to disturb, the archon watches from afar. 

Today is different. Murata continues to walk along the path, listening to the noises coming from the forest animals and the creeks as the waters begin to rush at this hour of the night. He can’t help but let out the faintest of hums at the sounds of nature. 

He reaches for the side of his face, tucking a red strand behind his ear. Often the god will put his hair up into a low or high ponytail, but for outings in the cool atmosphere, he prefers to wear it down. His powers were compared to his hair many times. When describing his appearance, he listens to the children exaggerate saying his hair is literal flames that he can produce from the palm of his hands. Of course, this is nowhere near true, but a child’s imagination is quite amusing. 

In the distance, his crimson hues bore straight ahead at the small flickering light. 

“Someone must be up now,” he whispers to himself, debating on leaving them alone but instead, chooses to go up ahead and observe from a closer proximity. Muratans knew what their god looked like. He comes out during the day to pay visits but never for long periods of time. 

As quick as they see him, it's as quick as they’ll see him leave. No one can ever hold his attention for too long. 

The sound of strings being played can be heard from his spot-- and he halts. A lyre, one of his favorite pastimes and favorite instruments. 

Over the hill is a figure sitting beside the statue, back turned to him but he can see the movement of their arm. Curious, Murata continues to stalk forward quietly, not wanting to disturb the worshipper. 

The melody played is show-stopping in his eyes. He wonders if Celestia had sent down someone he was unaware of to play this just for him, and only him. If anything, he could settle on the grass and listen to them play for ages on end, wearying his immortal days out. Music was the only thing that could settle him, but not forever. 

Now, he's a mere few steps away from the cloaked figure. His face is lit up by the candles by his feet. His tongue peeks out of his lips as an unknown feeling bursts through his body. His palms felt sweaty and his heart rate increased. 

He winces when the wrong note is played, gritting his teeth together. The redhead doesn’t think much until a force pushes him backward.

“W-Why are you standing there watching me?! Don’t you know this place is meant for us to come together, not to be creepy like you just were right now?!”

“W-What?” he whispers in surprise, bringing a hand to cover his nose that suddenly feels wet. He pulls away, noticing the red drops on his skin. Blood.

“Don’t question me that way! You know exactly what you were doing…  A pig is what you are. Oh, just you wait until Murata finds out about this.”

“Murata huh?” he questions, wiping his hand on the grass, watching the blood dissolve into nothing-- the red trails of blood trickling down his nose come to an unsuspecting halt.

He clears his throat and comes to stand, staring down at the figure behind him. With the candlelight, a glimpse of crimson eyes and matching hair can be seen. In a matter of seconds, it's silent. Until there is a subtle gasp.

It amuses the Archon greatly to see a change in behavior and the fear present in the civilian's eyes. He wouldn’t dare try anything to her, but maybe it would lighten the mood if he did.

With desperate breaths of air, you reach forward and grab ahold of the man's hands, squeezing as hard as you could. “M-My Lord, I deeply apologize for my behavior! Please forgive me! I was foolish!”

“No need to be formal all of a sudden…mistakes are made and all can be forgiven. I must say, you are quite gifted with that instrument in your hand.”

Your face heats up, suddenly finding the ground much more interesting than him as you gaze down. Your god had just complimented you and yet here you are losing the composure you had seconds ago. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, hand clutching the lyre close to your chest. “It’s an honor to hear such wonderful words, especially coming from you.”

Murata stares down, an unexplainable look upon his face. Then, he smiles. 

“Your name?”

“Pardon?”

“What is your name? As someone as gifted as you, I think you deserve to have your name remembered.”

“My name is Y/N. For some reason, your kind words seem to boost my confidence. I normally don’t play in front of people, I’m too shy and afraid of their judgement. I only like to play in front of the statue… or in this case, you.”

“How about you play for me again?”

-

The angelic sounds of your lyre had been played more often since you’ve met the god. The night was when you shined, when no one was around to listen or stare at you. The dark sky made you feel alone, yet you were at peace. You found pleasure in playing for the Pyro Archon statue, yet having him sitting beside you and listening made your heart beat just a bit more than before.

During the day, you find yourself sitting under the big oak trees, the sunlight peeking through the leaves and shining upon you two. Murata lays close to you, eyes shut and lashes resting against his upper cheeks as the song lulls him to a quick nap or a state of serenity. 

He’ll comment on a subtle note, saying how he loves the pitch, or give recommendations. Many times Murata has taken your instrument and played a tune or two for you. He says every gentleman should at least know how to serenade a lady.

As a child, your family spoke highly of him. They even used him as a threat against you when you’ve done something wrong. Now that you look back, it was a mere hoax and it possibly scarred you just a bit. When you first told Murata this, he stared with his lower lip quivering before his shoulders started to shake and then, he let out a laugh. 

“Surely you didn’t believe that, right?”

“I did! I was a child, what else was I supposed to do?! I nearly wet my sheets when my mother told me that you would come and scare me!”

“Well come on now, are you still scared?”

He enjoys seeing you worked up—then again, he loves seeing you play the lyre. He stays quiet and watches your fingers move as if they had a mind of their own. You move with grace, without hesitation. There is no wrong note, no wrong string when you play. Sometimes being here with you in this moment made him feel like he was mortal. Like he was able to live freely.

Being bound to divinity in Celestia, Murata had wandered Teyvat for ages, alone. Each person he had gotten close to, he had to watch them disappear from this world in the shadows. At some point, he even had to pretend to be lost so others could forget about him. If they forgot about Murata, would the load be easier on the Pyro Archon’s shoulder?

But now, you’re aware of his status and who he truly is. If you were to stay by his side, would he be the last thing you see before you pass into the next life? He’s not sure, but he’s hoping that won’t be true. He couldn’t bear with the guilt that will get him worked once more at the thought of another mortal dying in front of his eyes. 

“Murata?” you ask one afternoon, sitting by the same statue you met him for the first time. “What’s it like?”

He steers his gaze away from the clouds and onto you, an eyebrow raised in question. “What is what like?”

“You know—” you start, messing with the material of your dress, head lowered. “Being a god?”

And then he freezes. Out of all the questions you could have possibly asked, this one had to be the most unexpected. 

“Why do you wish to know something like that?”

“I want to know what it’s like. Immortality and eternal beauty sound pretty amazing, doesn’t it?”

“No,” he immediately states, sitting upright. His body looks tense, posture perfect and hands in his lap. However, you notice the small twitch in his fingers, as if he’s thinking. You can hear the heaviness in his breathing—lips parted as the air slips in and out of his mouth.

How can living on this earth for years on end, watching people die in front of you like they are meaningless, be perfect? Is that what people thought about immortality? The faces of past friends from ages ago are nothing but a blob of color in his mind. He can’t remember their faces, nor their voices—only the memories they have shared, and even that is starting to fade away.

Murata cleared his throat, eyes fluttering shut. His chest heaved up slowly, before falling at the same rate. Soon, he opens his eyes and faces you. He reaches up and tightens his high ponytail, running his fingers through the red tresses. “The life of an immortal is not...ideal.”

“There comes a time where living forever is not as good as it seems. A human like yourself might think differently since there is an end to everyone’s journey. Death is inevitable for a human, and almost all are afraid of the end itself. Even… I am afraid there will be a time I will be cursed with that end. But for now, that’s something that rarely crosses my mind..”

And he continues. Murata proceeds to tell you about the drawbacks of being a God. When he speaks, you can see pain flash across his eyes as he recalls a memory of a loving friend who passed before him. He tells you there’s no avoiding this never ending nightmare. If there was a way he could overcome this spell of immortality, he would choose mortal life in an instant. 

He believes nothing good comes with this. In his eyes, everything gets destroyed by his hands. If he hadn’t created this nation, he wouldn’t be here with you, nor would he have people at his feet who love and worship him for everything—for giving them a home. He would be a traveler with no home, or loved ones.

The Archon doesn’t realize how much of his thoughts he spilled until he feels the warmth of another—your hand resting upon his cheek. This alerts him as he jolts, eyes wide as he stares at you. You wear a small smile, head cocked to the side. Your thumb moves on its own, wiping the tear away that dribbles down the swell of his face. 

His body relaxes, shoulders slouching as he relishes your touch, not having been caressed by another, let alone a human. If he’s being honest, it's been at least a century since he has gotten close to another mortal. It’s a foreign feeling, but he loves it nonetheless.

Your soft spoken words are enough for him to be at ease. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to continue through the suffering.”

In a vulnerable state, the tears continue to flow down his face, arms slithering around your body as he pulls you in close. At first the motion shocks you, but soon you return the action, hand resting on the small of his back and by his head, stroking the soft locks. You can hear the faint sobs that escape his lips and it’s strange. From stories, they state Murata was fierce, barely any emotion in him.

But he looks nothing more than a broken man in need of comfort. 

You press your lips against his head, humming softly to him. His arms tighten around you, a shaky breath slipping past. As much as Murata hates this feeling, but after being alone for as long as Teyvat had been founded, he thinks he deserves to be this close to someone again.

After moments of silence, the god is positioned beside you, hand resting on your thigh and head on your shoulder. His eyes feel heavy, the area feeling irritated and scratchy from his crying. As much as the thoughts still swirl in his head, they seem to be drowned out by the melody you play for him.

He lazily draws organic shapes with the pad of his finger on your skin, eyes beginning to close. 

Your lyre is one of the few beautiful things he has come across in his lifetime. You currently hold the number one spot for the most beauty he has seen but when you sit with your instrument, he swears he can see the wings of an angel behind you. 

He steers his gaze from the lyre to your face, eyes taking in the small details of your visage. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he notices the slip of your tongue peek from your lips, eyebrows creasing in concentration. Along with the melodies, he listens to your small hums as you play a song just for him-- one of worship and love.

His hand runs up your arm, halting your movements at once. Eyes opening, you stare forward for a second before looking down upon him. He recognises your confusion and lets out a laugh, hand trailing up before his thumb rests on your chin, making you keep your gaze on him.

Your face heats up at this interaction, mouth parted. Your breathing becomes uneven when you notice the close proximity. Your stomach flutters, the back of your throat suddenly going dry—no words able to slip through. His chest rises and falls just as quick as your own. 

His tongue peeks through, licking his lower lip. His crimson hues stare at your lips before averting his gaze to your eyes. As much as it’s tempting, now is not the right time.

“Beautiful,” he whispers quietly, for your ears only. “So beautiful… like an angel sent down from the divine...”

- The lyre, made of nature’s resources and carved into the most adoring shapes—the ends curving in different directions and a piece of excess wood piercing straight through the middle with a pointed tip and a rounded end. Made for the best, the lyre contains seven strings that seem to glow throughout the day and the night. 

In the middle, an emerald gem shines embedded on the wood, reflecting the rays of the sun, sparkling for all to see. Around lies the detail of the sun, the soft yellows encircling it. And just beneath that is gold details that resemble the wings of those who are free. Two flowers that are foreign to the land of Natlan are delicately engraved—their colors showing pure innocence.

The Cecilia flowers stay in bloom, never once dying out. Nor has any other grown in their place.

A perfect instrument, one of elegance and purity. Perfect for you. 

The origins of said lyre are unknown, yet when it was given to you as a young child, you didn’t dare question it. Instead, you took it with the biggest grin and thanked your father as many times as you could. You were intelligent and extremely talented. At first, your mother was skeptical of such an object being in the possession of an nine year old, but your father assured it was in safe hands. 

Since then, it’s been by your side to this day. It’s never been out of your grasp and you only let certain trusted people play it. For some reason, seeing others hold the instrument made you feel weird. 

Playing your gift made you feel like you were above the world, like you could ascend to Celestia and play for the gods. It felt as if some sort of divine power surged through your veins and riled you up. And now at the ripe age of 24, having the Pyro Archon by your side as you play for him daily, it feels as if your purpose of living has been complete. 

Seeing his soft smile and slight nods he gives when he's impressed (which is all the time) or when he places his hand on yours to play along with you. Having him close to you makes you feel warm, excited and giddy; almost like a young girl in love.

Which... You won’t lie to yourself about that. 

There have been times during the day where you catch yourself thinking about the red head. Thoughts of him swirl your head as you drift off to sleep and he’s the first thing you think about in the morning. Sometimes you notice that you make motions in the air, like you are stroking something, when in reality, you wish to have his head in your lap again as you play with the loose ends of red tresses.

The god was just so breathtaking. Staring into his eyes was mesmerizing. The color of flames held in his eyes drew you in so far, it felt as if you were walking through a pit of flames. Yet, these flames never extinguished or brought harm to you. 

“You’re lost in thought again,” Murata comments, poking your shoulder with his pointer finger. “You alright there? I don’t need you tripping over a rock or something.”

“Huh?” you ask, glancing over at him. “O-Oh it was nothing. I’m okay.” You offer a not so convincing smile, scratching the nape of your neck in embarrassment. Knowing you for a while, the god offers a nod and looks forward, his hands behind his back, steps in sync with yours.

You let your hand drop, clearing your throat as you hum, filling the silence with some noise. Your eyes wander around the area before gazing up at the tall man beside you. You take notice how the ends of his ponytail sway side to side with every step he takes.  

The apple of your cheeks heat up when you can see his back muscles flex as he straightens his posture. The shirt he wore let your imagination run wild; there was no doubt that Murta was built.

“It’s quite rude to stare,” Murata says out of nowhere, barely glancing over at you. “If you want, I can just stand in front of you so you can actually look at me face to face.”

“Oh be quiet,” you mutter, stepping forward and grabbing hold of his hand—his much larger, covering yours entirely. Upon contact, his fingers intertwined with yours, squeezing softly.

“You know I love messing with you,” he hums, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, which you respond back to him with a quiet “I know.”

The rest of the walk is filled with comfortable silence. It’s a bit chilly in the land of Natlan. One of the many summer days that turn out to be filled with crisp air and cloudy skies. Storytellers always said if it were cloudy during the season of summer, karma and misfortune was on the way—yet no one believed such lies like that. 

His hand is so warm, you think, glancing down at your conjoined hands. Ever since that day by the giant stone statue of the god where you almost kissed him, his behavior towards you changed drastically. He’s been a bit more touchy (not that it bothered you; in fact, you loved it), holding your hand and somewhat more affectionate. At the end of your day when you would say goodbye, he would pull you close and plant a gentle kiss to your cheek or sometimes even close to your lips.

Just thinking about those actions makes you flustered, looking away from him and out to the open. 

“What do you think it means to be in love?”

Hearing those words from the man beside you causes you to choke on your saliva, hitting your chest to calm your ongoing coughs. When you’re finally composed, you gasp for air and stare at him in shock. “W-What do I think about that?”

“Mhm.” He nods, inhaling deeply, his other hand reaching up into the air as if he was stretching before lowering it. “What do you think it means to be in love? I’m curious as to what you humans think it might be.”

“I-” You gulp, eyes semi wide as you try to wrack your brain for anything. That was not a question you were expecting, especially right now. “W-Why do you want to know? Isn’t love, love?”

“Well, aren't there different ones? Can’t people be in love with parts of someone? Lets say, only being in love with someone for their status in the nation. Or just their looks but not for them. 

“Well… I think being in love with someone means you don’t care about their status or who they look or who they are.”

“Even if they’re a god?”

“Even if they’re a god.” you say confidently, before realizing what he said. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Even if they’re a god,” he repeats, stopping in his tracks as he turns to face you. His cheeks are painted with soft pink, red eyes averting from you. 

Murata’s heart is racing, far faster than it ever has in his life. HIs lips are dry, his mouth is parched. His shoulders heave with every deep breath he takes. Does the sweat of his hands bother you? God, he feels like a young boy about to confess his love to a girl he’s been pining over—although he's not completely wrong.

“Murata, what’s wrong?” you ask quietly, tilting yourself a bit to look up into his eyes as his head is lowered. “Are you okay?”

“Why are you so intoxicating?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Y-You’re all I can think of,” he stutters, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can’t get you out of my mind, even though I shouldn’t get close to those I love and care for. In the end, I’ll be here and be forced to live with this overweighting guilt that rests upon my shoulders as time continues to flow knowing that you’ll be dead.”

A hiccup gets caught in the back of his throat, his thoughts becoming foggy all of a sudden. “I don’t like this feeling. I absolutely despise it.  Many times after we hung out, I thought about disappearing again like I have before I got too close to anyone again. But I can’t let you go, nor will these memories ever go away.”

“Don’t you understand?” he whispers, hand shaking as his grip becomes tighter. “I can’t lose you… you’re too special to me already. I know there will be a day where we part ways forever but I want to be a part of your journey until then.”

His confession throws you for a loop. His words continue playing over and over in your head like a song you learned the night prior. You have this unexplainable feeling in your chest, yet it warms up as the seconds pass. Your whole body feels tingly, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. 

Your quietness is too much for him to handle right now—a bit silly if you were to ask the Archon himself. “Say something,” he mutters, shaking your hand lightly. The redhead can already feel the rejection pooling in the depths of his stomach, eating away at him.

“You... Do you love me?” you whisper, looking up at him with doe like eyes. Murata can’t seem to answer for himself, one hand cupping your cheek. He moves closer, his breath fanning your face. The flames in his eyes gaze into yours, losing himself in the color before he averts down to your lips. A quiet way of asking for consent.

You lean forward, lips barely brushing against his. It’s shy between the two of you. After having such strong feelings for each other, neither of you know how to proceed. No one moves, it feels time has stopped.

You feel him pull away slightly before going back in, his lips fully pressed against yours. His other hand drops yours, instead wrapping his arm around your lower back. Your chest pressed up against his, your finger runs up his side, to the top of his shoulder and around, cradling the back of his neck.

His finger tightens around the material of your coat you wore for the day, using it as leverage to keep you standing. His kisses are soft yet fierce. The softness of his lips and his scent up close are enough to drive you insane, enough to make your knees buckle and make you want more. You want more of him, Murata.

A small grunts leaves his mouth when you tug on his hair. In return, he nibbles on your lower lip, chuckling at the small noise you produce from his motion. It’s becoming harder to breathe as you stay in this position with him. If air wasn’t a necessity, you wouldn’t go for it. 

You pull away from him, panting softly as you gaze up into his eyes. His eyes hold nothing but love and adoration as he peers down at you. The corners of his lips curve upward as he leans in, barely presses against yours again before pulling away. He sneaks in a few quick pecks, listening to your quiet laughter.

“Of course I love you.” He makes you look up at him, your face cradled in his hands as if he was holding something delicate, something that could be wrecked and destroyed any second. “That’s why I asked you what you thought about it.”

“And I love you too,” you reply softly. “I thought.. After everything you wouldn’t want to have feelings like this, let alone a human.”

“Sometimes boundaries are meant to be broken if it means true happiness.”

-

“Tensions have arisen in the land of Natlan. Nearby gods have caused quite the stir, causing Murata to put it to a halt at once. Upon ascending to his seat in Celestia, there have been prophecies saying a great misfortune is underway and can arrive in an instant. Since then, he’s been worked up. He cares much about his nation and will let no harm come its way.” 

The bard strums the string before growing silent, letting his head hang forward, his pigtails falling in his face. “It’s a true shame that such a horrid thing came to be… If only he was strong enough as he said he was.”

Murmurs arise from the drunken peers, hiccups joining the air as they beg him to continue the song. Even if some wouldn’t remember this night in the morning, this was still enough entertainment. 

“W-What happened next, bard?! Finish it!” an adventurer gasps, holding his cup of alcohol close to his chest, his cheeks heated and a light pink.

“You wish to know?” the bard asks, peeking through his lashes, his two toned eyes staring into the soul of the bartender. “Why of course!” he laughs cheerfully then clears his throat, batting his eyelashes as he brings his hand to his chest.

“Although, I’m quite parched and would love to have another cup of Dandelion Wine! What do you say, Master Diluc?”

“My answer is no. Do not ask me for something when you will not pay in the end.”

“Agh what a shame,” the bard sighs, letting his head hang back but never breaking eye contact with the redhead. “Don’t you wish to know about the ending?”

“I could care less.” Diluc speaks through gritted teeth, arms crossed over his chest, the infamous pose he does every hour of the day. “I just want you out of here.”

“I’ll pay for him!” one of the nearby men yell, fumbling with his wallet to grab the gold circles of currency to give to the bartender—and all the bard can do is smile cheekily, opening his hand. 

“Well, looks like the drink is paid for. Can I have it now, Master Diluc?”

The red head, already annoyed with the behavior of the young man in front of him, reluctantly takes the coins from the drunk. Without speaking, he serves the singer his desired drink, noticing the small smirk he wears. “Why are you smiling at me like that?” he asks, eyeing him up and down.

“Because I’m getting to my favorite part.” He takes a sip of his drink and places the cup back down. After a pleasant sigh is heard from him as he takes hold on his lyre, stroking the white petals of the Cecilia flowers. “And you’re gonna love it.”

- Melodies of the lyre were played even during the darkest of times. The soft notes were enough to make anyone who felt down happy again, or at least content, even yourself. The colors of the strings being played was enough to put you at ease. Sometimes when you’re out in the town, many children would ask you to play their favorite song or at least a simplified version if you weren’t familiar with it. 

But as of now, all of Teyvat was in ruin. Murata had told you the truth; he hated keeping you in the dark when you deserved to know. As much as he disliked saying this, your life indeed was on the line, more than his. In fact, the whole nation was at risk, along with the other six neighboring ones. 

From other Archons, Murata heard that a water monster, Osial, had arisen and was ready to ruin and kill innocents for the sake of a seat in Celestia. Morax, who was the overseer of Liyue at the time, was trying his best to seal the beast with his spears.

In this case, Murata hopes a threat like this doesn't happen to Natlan. Especially when he’s not there to protect his people, to protect you.

Murata hears a gush of wind from behind him and the earth beneath him starts shaking. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, small puffs of air slipping out of his mouth. He reaches above and tugs on the black hood of his cape. 

His archon outfit consists of silk white pants and black sleeveless shirt that resembled a vest with a slit down the middle of his torso. And to top it, a black cape flows behind, the hood covering his face from all to see. In his right hand, his fingers curl around the handle of his claymore.

A heavy burden rests upon his shoulders as he stares forward, seeing the world erupt into flames and utmost chaos. In the distance, he can hear the screams and cries of the families asking for mercy. He wonders what you would think about him if you were to see him right now. 

“Murata,” you whine, trailing the last syllable of his name as his lips peck against the bare skin of your shoulder. “Come on, you know that tickles.”

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll continue to do it,” he muses, nipping at your skin before blowing warm air onto your neck which causes you to squirm from him, pressing your hands against his chest. He listens to your soft laughs, loving the way your body moves under his touch. Your arms wrap around his neck, hugging him close as you hum, inhaling the scent you’ve grown to love. 

“Mmm… I love you.”

“And I love you too,” Murata whispers to no one, blinking rapidly when he realizes he was lost in thought and was not in fact with you, but only remembering a moment from a few days ago. In reality, here he stands in the middle of a deserted land that must be destroyed. Blood is on his hands, splattered on his face. 

“I didn’t even want to do this,” he mutters, grinding his teeth together as he proceeds to walk forward, watching red explosions burst from the ground, red blocks protruding from either ends of the nation. In the sky, the color purple takes over as lightning strikes down from the heavens and is brought forth onto the land. 

From his position, the ground had been cracked and was on the edge of being split apart if another Archon had used their powers against the nation. 

He lifts his claymore in the air, staring up at the red sky with anguish. His lips part as he whispers something to himself, reassuring that what he is about to do is alright and isn’t his fault. A sudden strike of his weapon pierces the land, flames bursting into the air and cracking the earth. 

Murata breathes heavily, leaning on the rounded edge of his weapon. Sweat trickles down his face, the hood falling off of his head. Two strands of hair fall forward, framing his face, the rest of it tied back into a low ponytail. 

The flames continue to run down the cracks which branch to smaller ones that cause the piece of rock beneath the surface to crumble and fall, leaving the terrain to become uneven. 

“Wow! Even from afar I can spot you,” a semi high pitched says from behind him. The Pyro Archon stiffens, internally groaning as he stares over his shoulder, meeting two green eyes. “Someone doesn’t look happy as he used to be.”

“Barbatos,” Murata grumbles, looking forward as he straightens his posture. With one hand, he picks his hood over his head once more and the other pulls his claymore from the ground, resting it on his shoulder. “What do you want from me now?”

“Just letting you know Morax has finished in the south region of Khaenri'ah,” Barabtos states, a frown growing on his lips as he looks away, the tips of his toes barely touching the ground as his wings keep him afloat. “You're not the only one who didn’t want this. We had no choice.”

“No choice huh…” He trails off, his claymore suddenly evaporating into thin air and gold dust left in its wake. “How are we loving, protecting gods if we just obliterated this nation with no god? What does that make us? We’re no better than those who do us wrong against our own homeland. We’re just like Decarabian. Nothing but tyrants.”

“Don’t bring up that name again.”

“Why? Because deep down you know it's true.”

“Because that was his own choice to keep us entrapped. We had no choice but to bring ruin. They felt-” Barbatos hesitates, licking his lower lip before continuing, “-they felt threatened. A nation with no god is a false one to Celestia. Everything must be in order. Khaenri’ah was not the case. We had to, or we’re next. The divine is not ready for a land with no god.”

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“Murata. If you hadn’t, who knows what would have happened to Natlan.” A deeper voice from behind him is heard, the sound of footsteps becoming louder before they stop beside him. “You and your people would have been in grave danger.”

“Unlike you, I don’t need to keep making contracts.”

Morax chuckles lightly, shaking his head, his ponytail swaying with the movement. “And how does that look on you, God of War?”

Murata shakes his head, refusing to look at the Anemo Archon and the Geo Archon. “War or not, this is not just. The victors burn bright and the losers turn to ash. This-” he motions to the now deserted land of dust and blood. The sky is a deep red, the sun or moon nowhere to be seen. The earth is uneven, mountains caving into the ground as streaks of dark colors emit from the ground. 

The spot the three archons stand upon is nothing but cracked ground, an empty space separating them and the rest of the debris. 

“This is not war.”

Even when he’s not in his right mind, the only thing that can put him to ease comes up, suddenly soothing his woes away. He closes his eyes, envisioning he’s somewhere else

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper in the god’s ear, twirling a strand of hair around your finger with a smile. “No wonder you’re a god. How could they not take you?”

“Please. You flatter me too much.” He grabs hold of your wrist, bringing it to his face, planting a kiss to it. “On the contrary, it should be you in my position. No, an angel is what you are.”

“An angel? Please, enlighten me.”

Murata shifts on his side to stare down at you, brushing the baby hairs from your face. A blanket covers your bodies from your previous intimate sessions, yet he remembers every curve, every flaw that’s perfection to his mind. “I mean, look at you. You’re too beautiful for this world.”

“Am I now?”

He nods, dipping his head slightly. The tip of his nose brushing against yours. “You are. You’re amazing. You’re everything in this world. You’re desirable but most importantly... you’re divine.”

“Wow, now I’m flattered.”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes creasing as he presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss. It lasts for a few seconds but it feels as if it goes on for years. When he pulls away, you cup his cheek. “And you are ethereal.”

The god shakes his head lightly with a sigh, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. You’re all he can think about. Even when he is busy taking away innocent lives and watching them get turned into monsters, the sweet image of your face continues to pop into his mind. You’re the light in the dark. 

He hates the feeling of being away from you, especially when he’s on close watch from Celestia. There’s something unsettling in the pit of his stomach that he can't quite put his finger on it. Murata watches Morax and Barbatos exchange a few words before he gasps, lifting his head up fast. “Natlan. It’s in danger.”

- The nation of Natlan, located in the southwestern region of Teyvat and home to the Pyro Archon, was under attack. There was no point in trying to save them, they were already too far gone. No god in sight yet the trails of monsters were left behind. Did the Archon truly love them like they said he did? Or was it all a lie to get people’s love?

The once beautiful land is ruined—looking like the one he destroyed not long ago. His statues that aided his people on their journeys far and wide were now broken and cracked. Chunks of stone litter the ground and crush nearby civilians. Whoever was standing beside those statues had been brought down along with them, no way to return. 

The god feels weak in the knees as he staggers over the dirt path that has noticeable traces of dried blood. No doubt from his people. Where are the bodies? He has no clue.

Houses have been torn apart, the roofs blown off and thrown into the field of flowers on the other side. He feels torn at heart. He wants to give up walking, already knowing the outcome but refuses to stop. He hopes that a few people, even just twenty people, can still be alive and he can move them somewhere else.

The night is cold and fresh as it was years ago. Only this time, the sounds of the animals in the creek aren’t heard and the wildlife is quiet. He looks towards the forest, hoping a deer or a boar will rush through the trees. But his hopes die when he notices that's not happening, and the habitat is burnt to ashes. 

“Somebody,” he croaks out, averting his eyes upward and freezes. Up ahead, in the center lies the biggest statue of them all, where flowers and candles are set up around it for ceremonial purposes. Every night new plants were replaced for the days to come. 

The most beautiful statue in all of Natlan has been crushed. The head of the statue is gone from the area (he can only assume it had been tossed across the nation or into the river). The candles are no longer intact,  the pieces scattered and buried into the burnt grass.

“No,” he whispers lowly before crying out, running towards it. His heart races as he steps closer and closer. All his worries and fears; he doesn’t want them to be real. He doesn’t want any of this to be real. He wants to be at home.

You.

You. 

Where are you?

He gasps for air and drops to his knees. Red eyes frantically search along the stone pieces. He plants his hands on the ground and hisses upon contact, retracting back. A rock share pierced his skin. Murata bites his lower lip as he shakes his hand, watching the piece fly off before he can continue looking.

Are you safe at home? You were, right? Surely you wouldn't come out when everything is being attacked, right? Yeah, that’s it. You’re safe at home waiting for him to return. Waiting for him to be in your arms so you can cry about your fears of losing your life and him.

And by the end he’ll calm you down, say soothing words into your ear as he holds you close, saying he’ll never leave like that again and stay with you forever. God or not, immortal or not, he plans to stay by your side. 

And then your lyre will be played for you and only you. He knows your favorite melodies. Oh so beautiful, he loves hearing you play them but this time, he’ll play for you until the end of time. 

Your lyre-

He freezes.

His hand hits something underneath the stone. Something smooth like wood and the prick of an object with a pointed tip—an all too familiar feeling.

With a grunt, he grabs ahold and heaves back, pulling it out from under the rubble. A surge of fear flows through his veins when he falls back, holding an object in his hands. 

It’s a cracked lyre, with pieces broken off where an emerald stone originally would have laid. The gold trinkets are ripped right off, the empty space now feeling dull. He notices the seven strings have now turned to three and aren’t holding their original color that glows. 

The only thing that’s untouched, however, are the Cecilia flowers. Not a hint of blood stains the white petals. 

His eyes grow wide when he gazes somewhere else, spotting a hand peeking out from the same spot he pulled the lyre from. A choked cry gets stuck in the back of his throat when it all clicks together.

You weren’t home like he thought you would have been. You weren’t waiting for him to return from his wages of war, to be in his arms. Instead, you did what you always did.

Worshipped Murata, under the ceremonial statue.

The one that caused your death. 

Tears well up in his eyes as he hugs the lyre close to his chest, mouth parting as a sob slips out. He rocks himself back and forth, shaking his head at this false reality but he knows this is all real. 

Murata babbles to himself, muttering things underneath his breath as he hyperventilates. He can’t catch his breath. His throat is closing in on him, the air too thick to even breathe right now. 

The tears blur his vision. He can’t see nor think straight anymore. The god of War was unable to save his people from the hardships of an incoming war. What kind of god was he? Was he even one? Or was he now a false one?

What seems to be years later, though it only is an hour or so, Murata finds himself standing on the edge of a cliff, dried up tears evident on his face. The whites of his eyes are red, the tip of his nose matching the same color. 

He sniffles, nose stuffed from the moments earlier. His breathing hasn’t changed a bit. His shoulders still shake with every inhale. The atmosphere around him is tense, maybe even too quiet for his liking. 

Behind him, he refuses to look back on the destruction he let happen. Even from a far enough distance, he can still clearly hear the crackling of fire and the sounds of a nation dying. 

He lowers his hand from his chest, spreading his fingers open. In a matter of seconds, the handle of his weapon appears slowly, the rest of the claymore following suit in gold dust. 

He peers down slightly, watching the red and black glow before dimming out. The slant from the edge of the weapon, one he has used to kill off his enemies without a thought. In the current state, he can see the traces of blood left behind. 

In his other hand is the damaged lyre. His fingers keep it close to his chest, his heart. One of the last things he had of you. The tip of his pointer fingers strums a string and he winces from the uneasy sound it produces. This instrument no longer plays the melodies he adored, and worse yet, the person he adores can no longer hear it. 

Murata was the Pyro Archon. Amongst the other gods, he was ruthless yet kind and merciful. When a threat was sent his way, he did not hesitate to take care of it. He took care of Natlan. 

Or, that’s what should have happened. 

He closes his eyes, goosebumps forming on his arms from the gust of wind that breezes by him, knocking his hood off. His hair that was let down swayed in the breeze, the loose ends flowing behind him. His bangs move slightly and then stop, falling in their original place. 

The rest of his cape follows in the wind, the ends flowing behind him like the draft was made just for him right now. 

“I let you down,” he says, clearing his throat. He stares at the colors of oranges, pinks and blues, meshed together to create the sunrise that he grew to love but now, he suddenly resents it. 

A single tear cascades down his face and lands on his bare chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. A rare whimper slips past his lips. With a shake of his head, Murata brings the lyre to his face, pressing his lips against the cracked wood. 

A goodbye kiss should always be special, shouldn’t it?

He pulls away, stroking the place where the gem would have been at. “I’m so sorry my love.” He averts his gaze and lowers himself, dropping the lyre on the ground underneath his feet. 

“Even I could not save you from the end of your journey. And as your god, I failed to protect you.”

When he stands up straight, his fingers tighten around his claymore. He stares down at the instrument, longing for time to change and to go back. To go back to how things were before. 

He can still hear the sound of your life and your smile popping into his mind. At the thought, his lips curl upward faintly in a small smile. 

Oh how he misses you already. He still remembers when he first saw you on that day under the statue as you played for him. You were aggressive, that was for sure. No doubt about it when you swung at him with your lyre and accused him of being a disgusting pig.

He can only blame himself. Deep down, he knew a day like this would come, but he didn’t think it would happen so soon. 

But maybe now, as he called you his angel or an angel of Celestia, you can now ascend to where you truly belong. 

This isn’t goodbye, but a farewell, he thinks, clearing his throat as he gets closer to the edge. He peers downward at the ground miles beneath him.

As he failed here, he still has a job to do, no matter what. 

So then he jumps. He brings his claymore around and over his shoulder and swings it down. Flames engulf him in whole on his way down until he hits the ground with a thud, his weapon taking up all the impact. 

-

“And thus, the Pyro Archon aided in other nations against the treacherous demons that corrupted their land. After such heroic deeds, he was never to be seen. Many questioned: where did the god of War go? Who will remain victorious?”

“Many say he disappeared to join his love in the next life. Others say he stepped down as god to live amongst the mortals as he always wanted.” The bard hums and lays his lyre across his lap. 

“It’s a shame really, how beauty can go to waste.” His fingers run over an emerald gem that lies in the middle of the wood. His lyre was beautiful. 

The edges curved in different directions with a piece of wood piercing the top with a rounded end and pointed tip. Seven strings glowed recently as he placed the object to rest. 

“But it’s not as if it was her fault.” His slender fingers run over the white petals with a faux sigh of despair. “She would have been popular amongst the folks here, if she was immortal, of course. If only he kept his word to her saying he would protect her no matter what.”

The bartender drowns out the rest of Venti’s words, his eyes trained on the wood beneath his feet. 

Diluc Ragnvindr, owner of the Dawn Winery and Angel’s Share. Information is at his fingertips wherever he goes. In Mondstadt, he is a nobleman of high status. Everyone knows about him. 

His crimson eyes hold tears as he lets out a shaky breath, bringing a gloved hand to wipe away at the water that threatens to spill. 

He tries to keep his mind off of it but he can’t suppress it.

In front of him was Lord Barbatos himself—one he knew too well from millennia ago. Having fought with him in the Archon War, and the Destruction of Khaenri’ah, Diluc knew there was no way to get rid of him. 

It shocked him the most that the bard even remembers the story from back then. Even if other storytellers told this tale, Venti was the one that pierced his heart the most. 

“Master Diluc!” At the sound of his name, the red head hesitantly lifts up his head. Venti’s annoying smile greets him, pressing his finger against his cheek in a thinking motion. 

“Did you like it? I hope you did! I try to incorporate any stories of the divine. It seems that today was a hit. Don’t you think so?”

“Why are you bringing it up?” he whispers, not caring that tears trail down his face. “Why do you need to remind me of my failure?”

The other peers don’t seem to notice the usual calm and collective man in tears. They’re all too far gone in the hole of alcohol. 

Venti’s eyebrows crease, cocking his head to the side. “Failures? What do you mean? I’m just doing my job and singing like I always do. You’re doing great things in the Wine Industry. What failure could you possibly mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean!” Diluc snaps, slamming his hands on the counter in front of him, causing the bard to jump in his seat. “You know exactly what you’re doing!”

“Oh dear oh dear,” Venti sighs, shaking his head. He picks up his lyre, placing his lips against the wood. 

“So pretty huh?” he asks once he pulls away, a small smirk on his lips as he shows Diluc. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if you got to play this?”

The strings continue to shine, dimming and going bright again. An instrument perfect for anyone and in this case, for Barbatos. 

It pains Diluc to see him with your lyre. As much as you told him you despised other people holding it, he feels much more stronger about it. He wants nothing more than to snatch it from Venti’s hands and tell him to get out. 

“Others say that he wanders in the world right about now. No one knows what he looks like though. It’s a shame if anyone were to find him and blame him.” 

Venti’s fingers run over the strings. A melody is heard in the air, louder than any of the drunk men in the room. 

Diluc feels a sob beginning to form in the back of his throat. He wants nothing of this. He wants to truly go back home to Natlan with you. He could have made you a god and you could have been here with him today. 

As much as Diluc wants to look away, he’s mesmerized by the way the singer’s fingers move gracefully against the strings. For a split second, he could have swore he saw you sitting in his place, singing softly for his ears only. 

Like the angel you were. 

“But it seems that the god is afraid of confrontation. And yet, he seems to be mourning over his lover even after her death. If anyone were to be at fault, it would be his—” 

Venti stops, peering up at Diluc through his lashes. A sinister look was evident in his eyes. He paused for dramatic effect, a smirk growing on his lips. He hums and strums the last note.

“Isn’t that right, Murata?” Venti muses, asking a question in the form of a song. But in reality, he aimed it towards the redhead god standing in front of him. 

Diluc stares dumbfounded, mouth parted and eyes red from his silent crying. His hands are balled beside him. The peers cheer for the bard and offer drinks to compensate for his amazing singing—to which he laughs it off but takes the offers regardless. 

And all Murata can do is live with his own guilt, for the rest of his immortal life. Forever.

taglist: @reddriot @thicmitten @katsuhera @novvabeam @patt-writes-stuff @axther @tspice283  @bonitoge @mysticalchocolate @yanfeisrose @mowestruc @tokyosrevenge @jaegerverse @hu-tao-main @midnightangelfox​ (add yourself to the taglist up above!)

[bubmyg]

there was no particular reason i wrote all this down other than reading the translations to my universe made me cry last week because i’m just Like this. this is a mini compilation of yoongi lyrics that i hold gently in my palm and close to my heart in a he’s my artist for life kind of way. these aren’t all my favorite yoongi lyrics, i certainly have more but not ones that fit this general vibe. 

this is like extremely disorganized, i kind of just wrote it like a journal (and i’ll probably copy it to my bullet journal at some point actually). interpretations are my own, music is cool in that we can all read and hear the same thing and get different things out of it (which is why yoongi has often said he doesn’t attach specific meaning to things, giving it up to the listener instead)

so yeah. here’s me being fond of yoongi in 4k for no reason other than. idk. i wanted to. all translations are from doyoubangtan and doolsetbangtan. 

song request - lee sora ft suga

“I’ll be with you, for your birth and your end; That you’d remember that I’m with you, wherever you are; I’ll be a comfort for your life at any time, and so; please, that you’d lean on me and take a rest, every once in awhile.”

to me, this perfectly encapsulates what creating music is for yoongi in a two-fold kind of way. not only does he want his music to be a source of comfort for those who listen to it (just as the art of music is for himself), he’s also consistent in his assurance that taking a rest is okay. not being okay is okay. simply existing for the time being is okay. it’s a gentle empathy that comes from the experienced heart of someone who’s not going to tell you that it is okay, but will tell you that it won’t always be like this. friendly little moon trying to get you to smile with him on sleepless nights.

so far away - agust d ft suran

dream, will eventually be in full bloom at the end of hardships

this was on my undergrad graduation cap. it’s one of my favorite lyrics of all time. if so far away is my heart song, this is my heart lyric. this is a common motif in yoongi’s lyrics; dormancy is only temporary, you will bloom at the end of the cold winter.

dream, hope it to be there with you at your creation and at the end of your life

creation to end is another common motif n his lyrics. in this specific context, i imagine it to most closely be analogous to holding dreams close to you your entire life. dreams are dreams no matter how they manifest, even if they’re simply something you long for until your “end”.

Hope it to be there with you at your creation and at the end of your life; It will be generous to you wherever you stand; It will eventually be in full bloom at the end of hardships; The beginnings will seem humble, so prosperous will the future be

the entirety of this song reads like a story and this last refrain reads like the conclusion (kind of). the slight wording change from the previous choruses means a lot in that regard, more definite and firm. you will be okay. maybe not now, maybe not next week. but you will be.

suga’s interlude - halsey ft suga

Though the dawn before sunrise is darkest; don’t forget the stars you longed for only rise in the darkness

just a really pretty but heart wrenching lyric in the context of the entire song. he’s also used this metaphor several times. i love me a good string of consistency with minor adaptations to fit the vibe. this song also made me cry the first time i read the translations lmao.

my universe - coldplay ft bts

Because the trial we face now is just for a moment anyway; All you have to do is to just keep shining bright like now; And we will follow you, embroidering this long night

this could mean so many things depending on how you wanted to contextualize it. of course the song is about love, so you could view it in that way. we’re in the midst of a global pandemic where we can’t see each other. or maybe it’s simply existence. continue to exist and one day your bright light will be followed even in the darkest of nights.

also the og title of telepathy being 잠시 (for a moment) is so...min yoongi you are so cool

people - agust d

Did someone say humans are the animals of wisdom?; The way I see it, humans are the animals of regret

Your ordinaries are my extraordinaries; Your extraordinaries are my ordinaries; Your ordinaries are my extraordinaries; Your extraordinaries are my ordinaries

super simple to understand which i think makes it more poignant. especially if you contextualize it with everything he’s said or written regarding the plight of fame and how he himself grapples with it as min yoongi.

28 - agust d ft niihwa

just this whole song. if song request encapsulates yoongi’s musical ethos, this captures a lot of his general musings.

paradise - bts

Just living like this, surviving like this, that’s my small dream; Dreaming dreams, grasping dreams, breathing breaths, it’s often too much

a more blunt take on the simply existing is a good enough dream. yoongi’s 2018 new years message was one of the things that made me go “yes. Him™” so paradise is very <3 for me

interlude: shadow - bts

Flying high scares me; I mean, nobody had told me; how lonely it is here –;how my leap could be my fall

another thing he uses frequently, even as recently as an interview regarding permission to dance. the contemplation of how a fall is far scarier than landing because getting back up is uncertain.

Yeah, I’m you and you’re me, do you finally get that now?; Yeah, you’re me and I’m you, do you finally get that now?

the entirety of this song is haunting particularly paired with the sampling and the music video as a visual but this part is just...the whole idea of competing internal voices throughout the narrative of the song or if you’d rather truly treat the lyrics like a piece of literature, you have quite the unreliable narrator, one that’s trying to grapple with his own sense of self.

140503 at dawn - agust d

Pretending that I’m not lonely, pretending that I’m not suffering; needlessly pretending that I’m okay, and pretending hard that I’m strong; I built a wall in front of me, “Don’t come inside”; I’m an island in this wide ocean, “Don’t abandon me”

the entirety of agust d just makes me ache but i mainly pulled this part because he uses the island metaphor consistently. here, it’s used like i said before; achingly.

this song also gets overlooked a lot in the larger context of agust d but anyway

eight - IU ft suga

Island, yeah this is an island; a small island that we made for each other; Yeah, mm, forever young, the word ‘forever’ is a sandcastle; A farewell is just like an emergency text warning of a disaster; A morning met together with yearning; As each of us pass this eternity, we’re sure to meet again on this island

can i be honest and say i forgot this song came out at the beginning of the pandemic. anyway, if you haven’t heard the various times that jieun has spoke about this song and it’s conveyance, i encourage you to. the music video also gives a beautiful visual.

i wrote a small analysis of this when it came out so i’ll just put it here 

burn it - agust d ft max

I hope you don’t forget that giving up decisively also counts as courage

of course this can absolutely be taken at a literal meaning especially considering he said a similar iteration of this to someone on kkul fm BUT i also like looking at it in context of the entire song because maybe this is him trying to convince himself too, especially considering the wording of the last chorus doesn’t change it so it implies in order to get past the fire u need to let it burn first? burn it = giving up on some aspect of pain?

i see why max didn’t shut up for eight months about making this song i wouldn’t either hello

outro: tear - bts

im including this one firstly because i love the song but secondly to say i knew the second u all were surprised by yoongi saying he wrote this as essentially a break up song for bts and they all cried while listening to it that y’all don’t actually read or interact w their lyrics fjdklafjsd

just bc it’s a rap song doesn’t mean it’s a diss or a flex. weirdos.

intro: never mind - bts

I hope you forget about all your mistakes and such; Never mind; It’s not easy, but engrave this in your heart; If you think you’re going to crash, accelerate more, you idiot; Never mind, never mind; Whatever thorny path it may be, go run; Never mind, never mind; There are a lot of things that you can’t control

the entire composition of nevermind is similar to first love and shadow to me where you can just hear the emotion in his voice while performing it

this is also another general idea that he mentions a few different times through different songs which as we’ve seen i am <3 for

intro: the most beautiful moment in life - bts

once again i don’t have a specific lyric to pull i just love this song so much and i feel like it isn’t talked about enough because first of all the use of the basketball throughout the instrumental, the incorporation of the origin of his stage name into an entire song regarding his general existence as a performer and coming into the beginnings of sizeable fame, and just his general way of essentially writing one giant ode to something he loves and analogizing it to something else he loves to talk through internal struggles.

aka im once again saying min yoongi you’re so cool

first love - bts

same line of awe from above this whole song is just a story, a poem, a journal entry, a beautiful confession, i don’t know. this is yoongi’s best bts solo u can argue with a wall about it also if you were able to see this live i hope u have a terrible week (im joking)

every fancam i’ve ever seen of this makes me cry. so. do with that what you will in regards to how i feel about this song.

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Nobody asked for this but I'm gonna do it anyways...

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Fluff Alphabet: Takeru/Aguni Edition

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

A = Attractive what do they find attractive about the other?

Takeru: only reason he let Aguni wear regular clothes and not swimwear is because he saw ARM in that tank top and was like "oh damn okay 😳." So, y'know, that. (And he'll never admit it but he kinda likes how Aguni is a little bit taller than he is....) Also likes that Aguni has a really dry, deadpan sense of humor—he ways finds a way to make Takeru laugh, even when he's not really trying.

Aguni: I think the physical aspect of things wasn't really a make-or-break for him at first—like, yeah, Takeru's a good-looking guy, but that's secondary. He liked how Takeru is such a live-wire, very loud and colorful and seemingly fearless, no matter what kind of trouble they got into. (But also...he likes the hair. That's a thing for him.)

B = Baby do they want a family? why/why not?

Takeru: If they end up with one somehow, then, sure. But, like. He's not going out of his was to make it a thing. (But also, he has his cat, Ziggy, who he calls his baby, so...)

Aguni: Would secretly love to be a dad but is too worried he might mess the kid up or something. Is more than happy to be 'unofficial parent' to the neighborhood kids, though. Handing out ice pops to the kids that show up at the shop, keeping an eye out and telling them to get home before dark, maybe even showing one or two of them how to throw a better curveball...you know. Real Hallmark channel shit. (And yes, for those who were wondering: Ziggy the cat loves him and often curls up on his lap while he watches TV)

C = Cuddle how do they cuddle?

They don't really "cuddle" outside of bed. Just kinda sit next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, no big deal. But in bed, Aguni lies on his back with his arm sorta outstretched while Takeru...well, my man is worm on a string but OFF the string, he just flops all sorts of ways and a lot of them don't look comfortable but he falls asleep in minutes so whatever.

D = Dates what are dates with them like?

I don't think they do "dates"—they've got a long-term thing going on, so they often end up on the couch eating takeout and watching movies. I think they'd go to the movie theater sometimes (and talk shit for the entire film lol) and every once in a while grab dinner somewhere nice...but, usually because they have some cool limited-time-only dessert item that Takeru insists they try. (And Aguni pretends to be upset about having to get dressed up and go out, but is actually rather pleased to have a little romance...and get something to satisfy his sweet tooth.)

E = Everything you are my ____ (e.g my life, my world…)

Aguni: Emergency Medical Contact

Takeru: Co-Signer On The Apartment Lease

F = Feelings when did they know they were falling in love?

Takeru: About a week after Aguni (drunkenly) confessed his crush. Literally spent a whole week like, "Wow, it's a shame I don't love him back. He's so kind and handsome and smart and funny...too bad, I guess..." until one night he sat up straight in bed and said "Hold up." He then immediately called Aguni and began demanding why Aguni didn't tell him he was in love with him this whole time.

Aguni: They had been friends since they were kids, so it's hard to say when his feelings went from "you're my best friend" to something different. But, once he figured it out, he swore never to mention it because that could complicate their friendship.

G = Gentle are they gentle? If so, how?

Takeru: Yes and no. He's got a bad case of "grabby hands" and often yanks Aguni to and fro to look at something or whatever. Just zero respect for the man's personal space. But otherwise...I imagine he's not particularly rough or gentle, just kind of normal. EXCEPT when it comes to the emotional stuff—like, the real heavy things. I think he's very gentle with that, not asking too many questions and just sort of taking care of him where he can.

Aguni: Generally gentle—physically, emotionally, whatever. But I do think that he's confrontational, like when there's an issue, he comes straight out and asks Takeru what's going on. Even corners him, sometimes. He seems like a "no bullshit" guy, and since Takeru is "Mr. 99% Bullshit" he's gotta deal with it as best he can.

H = Hand/Hold how do they like to hold hands?

The only time they "hold hands" is when Takeru is grabbing Aguni's wrist to drag him somewhere (or run away lol) and when Aguni is pulling Takeru's hand back to stop him from touching something...

I = Impression first impression/s

I headcanon that they met very young, like grade school age. After school, in the park, where Takeru was chilling in a tree and Aguni walked by and he was like "Hey, there's a spider up here, wanna see?" and Aguni is like "Not really, I don't like bugs..." Now, Takeru, being "weird bug kid extraordinaire" can't believe his strange little ears and hops down from the tree and starts explaining why bugs are so cool and that Aguni is wrong...and Aguni listens as this funky, tiny firecracker just talks his damn ear off. Aguni liked how excited Takeru got about things, and Takeru liked how Aguni actually listened to him. And they were fast friends after that!

J = Joker are they into pulling pranks?

Takeru fucks around all the time...and doesn't often find out, because Aguni tolerates all his antics. (To a certain point, but still.) Every once in a while, Aguni will tell some harmless little lie just to watch Takeru freak out—he told him once that Lady Gaga was leaving the music scene forever, and Takeru screamed so loud the neighbors filed a noise complaint.

K = Kisses how do they kiss?

I think they most often do quick pecks—at the breakfast table, when they get home from work. You know. Domestic stuff. But when it's not like that...I think 9/10 times it's Takeru initiating, and Aguni reciprocates by wrapping his arms around him in a big hug (because he likes it but also to keep that skinny little weirdo from wiggling so damn much, he's always moving, he can't just be still—)

L = Love who says I love you first?

Neither! I don't think they really say it at all! Why say something that doesn't need to be said? (At least, that's how they see it...)

M = Memory their favorite moment together

Aguni: It's not really a memory, but...just how they have breakfast together some mornings. Sipping coffee, discussing whatever's going on in the world, the general "togetherness" that comes with it is one of his favorite feelings.

Takeru: The time they spent a full 24 hours in a karaoke booth singing 80's hits and knocking back tequila shots and ordering way too much food.

N = Nickel do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything?

Takeru: Absolutely buys stuff for Aguni all the time. Mostly random snacks, or little knick-knacks that catch his eye. And also clothes, but...Aguni doesn't always approve.

Aguni: Doesn't buy Takeru stuff BUT leaves vases of flowers he grew on the table for Takeru to find.

O = Orange what color reminds them of their other half

Anything bright and obnoxious reminds Aguni of Takeru—red in particular, which also happens to be Takeru's favorite. And Takeru thinks Aguni has calm and soothing blue-green vibes. Like the ocean, beautiful and serene, but also dark and capable of incredible destruction.

P = Petnames what pet names do they use?

Takeru: All of them. Darling, babe, sweetheart (but he calls everyone those lol). Aguni-specific ones are always over-the-top and ridiculous like "brightest star in all of the heavens..." and he always gets an eye-roll for his efforts.

Aguni: Absolutely does not use pet names. Just says "hey you" or something. Once called Takeru "babe" and Takeru had to stop washing dishes and sit down because he was laughing so hard.

Q = Quaint what is their favorite non-modern thing?

Takeru: I feel like he would collect a ton of vintage stuff—clothes, records, just random little bits and bobs he comes across. But his favorite is definitely his record player—it belonged to his dad, and he keeps it in a place of honor in the hat shop.

Aguni: A set of very old and well-cared-for gardening tools. Takeru got them for him for his birthday, and he legit treasures them.

R = Rainy Day what do they like to do on a rainy day?

Lay on the couch and do literally nothing. Takeru gets the left end, Aguni takes the right, and they binge trash TV shows all day. (And also they make box-mix brownies and eat them straight out of the pan. It's "their thing.")

S = Sad how do they cheer themselves/each other up

Takeru: Aside from all his self-destrictive behaviors (binge-drinking, dangerous situations, etc.) he just really needs a good laugh. And Aguni somehow always manages to make him laugh with an unexpected, deadpan comment. Also, he makes Takeru actually talk through his problems instead of ignoring them...

Aguni: if he's in a bad mood, you just need to let him work through it on his own. He hates being "talked down to" and feels that most attempts at cheering up are cheap, so most people don't attempt. Buf...Takeru is not "most people" and breaks out his most ridiculous jokes to try to get Aguni to crack a smile.

T = Talking what do they love to talk about?

Other people! You know Takeru is the "XOXO Gossip Girl" of the neighborhood, but Aguni...he's like a little old church lady and ADORES hearing all the latest drama.

U = Unencumbered What helps them relax?

Both of them have the same method of relaxation and it's...bubble baths! Aguni does a basic, skin soothing soak and just hangs out in the warm water with a book or maybe just his thoughts to keep him company. But Takeru? He's got some fancy bath soaps, and he takes in a glass of wine and lights a few candles and does a face mask and it's a whole EVENT.

V - Very thoughts about each other

Takeru: Thinks Aguni needs to loosen up and take more risks...but also just loves the guy to pieces.

Aguni: Kinda wishes Takeru would calm tf down sometimes...but also knows that it's just how the guy is and wouldn't dare change him.

W = Wedding when, how, where do they propose?

They're not really the marrying type! They just have a mutual understanding of commitment and that's that.

(But if they did have a wedding... I think it would be a relatively small affair with all their closest friends and family. Like a dinner party, but somewhere extra nice and with lots of good food and alcohol. Intimate and meaningful, with just enough "extra" to satisfy Takeru.)

X = Xylophone What’s their song?

"Total Eclipse of the Heart" because they hid out in a karaoke booth (different from the 24-hour event that Takeru cherishes so much) to es ape the Yakuza and Takeru sang it over and over to pass the time.

Y = You the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

"Breaking" to my "Entering." The "Assault" to my "Battery." (They both hate this sort of thing and try to come up with the worst answers possible lol)

Z = Zebra if they wanted a pet, what pet would they get?

They already have the cat, Ziggy, who is their perfect little angel.

[heavenlysageee]

A Seed That Blossoms

fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen/Gojou

pairing: Gojou x Reader 

word count: 2049 words

a/n: this is based on the blackout scene from In The Heights that’s been going around on tiktok! it’s a bit of a drabble w/ some fluff - please enjoy mwah!

»» — —  —   —  ♡— — — — ««  ♡  »»— — — —  —  — ♡ — — —  — ««

You and Gojo have had this unspoken tension between you for a while now. Despite your adamant denial time and time again to Nobara and Yuuji, there’s a small part of you that wonders what would happen if you indulge him just a little bit. This small seed grew into a larger impulse you couldn’t deny any longer and decided to give him a chance. Just one night, with no strings attached.

You peer over at the sun as the pink sunset dances across your empty classroom at Tokyo Jujutsu High. The day was ending and you were lucky to be just about finished with your duties when you felt a pair of familiar eyes drill themselves into the back of your head. Without even turning around you said, “Are you gonna say hi or you just gonna stand there and block my doorway?”

He walks over with a smirk plastered across his face before leaning against one of the desks. “Well, hello to you too, sunshine.” 

You roll your eyes at the usual stupid lines he would throw your way. On a normal day, you would let these slide because you weren’t all that interested. But that seed blossomed, took root, and is still demanding to be nourished. You took a pause and looked up at him from your desk. He was readily waiting for your snippy quip to his advances toward you.

 You knew him for a player, the type of guy who thinks more with the thing between his legs. But you ignored the warning signs flashing in your mind when you flash him a small smile and ask him out. 

“What are you doing for the rest of the night, Satoru?” 

His eyes seemed to flash a bit of confusion at the strange turn of dynamic. You were rarely interested at anything he had to say, let alone ever entertaining his stupid pick-up lines. He bit the bait anyways. “Hoping it would be you, but I’d like to hear what you have in mind.”

You chuckled softly and replied, “Maybe if you’re lucky. Let’s see if you’re as invincible as you claim to be. Meet me at my place tonight at 8:30 and we’ll go dancing at the spring festival. Don’t make me regret giving you a chance.” 

You walk away leaving the most powerful sorcerer feeling a bit confused but excited for the new possible endeavor. 

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you fix your hair and check that you have everything you need for the night. Cellphone, check. Wallet, check. Keys, Check. Glancing at your phone, you notice a text from Gojo indicating that he was outside. He’s leaning against the hood of his car, wearing a white button up with a few buttons open, tucked into dress pants that fit him all in the right places, and his signature rectangular resting low on his nose bridge. 

You think to yourself, well, crap, he does clean up nice. Guess the people he hooks up with aren’t as blind as I thought they were.

He immediately scans your figure and smiles, “Wow, well, aren’t you a sight to see. Hope the night works in my favor and I’ll be touching you too.” 

You felt your blood rush to your cheeks as you smooth out your outfit to regain your senses. You walked toward the passenger side door and slid into the leather seat. The entire car smelled of his cologne. The engine revs and you both ride off to the party. The city lights a kaleidoscope across the dashboard and onto his side profile. You keep adjusting in your seat to distract yourself from the knot building in your abdomen. You knock it up to general nerves from a new environment and try to release the excess energy by fidgeting every so often. You feel a large, calloused hand on your knee and freeze. 

Gojo glances over with slight concern, “You good? You’ve never been on a date with someone as hot as me?” His usual banter calms you down and reminds you that it’s just Satoru, you’ve known him for a while and this shouldn’t change much. It’s just a night of dancing. You feel the car slow down and pull into the lot. Gojo opens the passenger door and leads you by the arm into the plaza. You’re greeted by the glow of lanterns strung through the outdoor plaza, the smell of various cocktails and food wafting through the air, the pounding of the bass echoes in your ears and can be felt in your feet, sending rivers of your nerves into excitement. 

He pulls you to the bar and buys you both drinks to start the night out. He turns toward you with his sky blue eyes, drink in one hand and leaning his cheek on the other. “So, what was the turning point? What made you give somebody SO detestable a chance darling?”

The pet name sends a rush of blood through you and you ask for another drink to counteract the feeling. You turn and meet his eyes once more, “You know, I’m just gonna outright say it.  Although you can be detestable, you always flirt with me and I wanted to see if you got more than just a pretty face.” You throw a few more shots back and feel the former butterflies slip away, just enough to gather the courage to enjoy the party. 

While he watches you transform into someone far more outgoing from the liquid courage slipping past your lips, his eyes stare longer at them. Even if he hasn’t outright admitted it, you were the constant in his life that gave him a sense of normalcy. No matter how many people he wakes up next to in the morning, he always wondered what it would be like to wake up next to you or learn about you beyond the boundaries of banter and curses. As arrogant as he can be, the one thing he doesn’t want to sacrifice is the dynamic you have going on with him. He wouldn’t let his feelings ruin that if you didn’t want it to. This is a chance that can bring your relationship with him to a new level - one step forward or ten steps back. 

Before he could get a word in, another person offered to dance with you. You glance over at Gojo knowingly ready to reject them if he just said the word. But he didn’t. He nods, gesturing for you to continue, and you try to hide the slight disappointment behind your eyes. You wonder if it was worth inviting him out at all without even knowing if he wanted to go on a date with you. He could’ve just been flirting with you for shits and giggles. 

Gojo watches with a clenched jaw as you bounce from one person’s arms to the next. Time passes and you glance every so often to see what he was doing, wondering why he hasn’t pulled you and asked you to dance yet. Your hope for him to make a move dwindles and you feel it wither as each second passes. You feel your eyes drill into him as another person approaches him and grazes their hand across his, leaning into his ear to whisper something. He laughs. The loud music, the breaths of the stranger on your neck mixed with the smell of alcohol fills your nose but nothing defeats the angry drumming of your heartbeat in your ears.

You should’ve known he wasn’t here for you. You walk over with the firm resolve to nip this feeling before it grows even deeper roots and hurts you more. “I was just another score huh? You abandoned me. Gojo, you barely even danced with me.” 

His face distorts into irritation as he feels the pent up frustration bubble over, “Don’t make me laugh, I’ve been trying all night. You been shaking your ass for like half of the town.” 

It’s as if the whole room deadened to a halt as he spits out the words, placing the blame on you. Every one of your senses grow overwhelmed and all you can taste on your tongue is absolute bitterness. He never saw the way you longingly looked at him, all it took was a word and he never spoke up. That was his decision and it isn’t your fault. You retort, “Trying? You didn’t even approach me on the dance floor. I felt everyone’s hands on my waist except the one pair I was hoping would. Instead you were busy swapping spit with what seems like anyone that was willing to.” 

Shame continues to flood Gojo and pushes him into an inexplicable frustration, the flood gates opened at this point and wouldn’t stop. “That’s all you expect from me and never see me as anything other than a wandering, empty shell of a man into different people’s beds right? So why should I try to prove myself as anything other than that? I can have a normal conversation with somebody but to you it looks like I’m working for my next bed frame.”

Offense bubbles in your chest as you feel your voice begin to shake, “Why would I expect anything different when that’s all you’ve ever shown me tonight. I gave you a chance and you did what you usually do. With somebody else, again. And don’t ever shame me for dancing with other people, you don’t own me Goj-”

Before you can finish, you feel his hand squish your cheeks, preventing you from speaking. “You know that’s not my name sweetheart. I don’t want to hear you call me by anything other than my first name. You’ll never be distant enough from me that I’ll allow you to call me that.” Your eyes meet his and pull his hand away from your face as he seems to tower over you this time.

You stare at each other for what seemed like forever as a mix of shock and sentiment swirl in your mind, “Forget it Satoru. Good thing we established that we wouldn’t ever work. I’m just gonna find my own way home, you don’t have to worry about me. Have fun.” 

He grabs your wrist, “Give me a chance again. Please.” You try to rip your hand out of his grip but it was impossible. Tears sting and threaten to spill from your eyes as you look back and expect a smug look of victory. Instead you were met with a gaze that spelled absolute defeat. Your expression softened slightly and sighed, giving him a nod. He pulls you away from the crowd back through the exit only lit by the obnoxiously red neon sign above the two of you. 

His thumb gently swipes across your cheek urging you to look up at him. His voice softly responds, “You were doing your own thing and I wanted to try and distract myself from what I was feeling.” His hand moves from your face and he runs it through his hair trying to find the words. You reach for his hand and cradle it in your own, “What feeling Satoru?”

He slips his hand away and decides it’s time to come clean, “I was afraid that if I made a move you didn’t like, it would push you away. I don’t really care for a lot of people, but I do for you and I didn’t want to deal with losing a best friend. I’ve dealt with that shit before and I don’t want to make the same mistakes again.” 

Your heartbeat finally stills and you feel the stupid seed blossom again, leaving you in a feeling of vulnerability. “Are you trying to pull the sap card to get into my pants or are you being real right now?” He smiles exasperatedly and replies, “I’m being really genuine right now. If I JUST wanted to get into your pants, I would’ve done it FOREVER ago.” 

You gesture him to come closer to your face, he obliges and leans into you about a breath away from your nose. You fill the space between you both and press a gentle kiss to his lips with a small smile. “Hm, guess that makes two of us.”  

[franeridart]

Anon said: [Spoilers for non-manga readers] opinion on Baku's hero name?

Very Bakugou, honestly don’t mind it at all! Mostly just surprised it’s, like, legal in the bnha universe for heroes to call themselves stuff like explodo-kills (and also that there isn’t a character limit for hero names??) but that Bakugou would stick with it is pretty damn in character for him so I like it xD still, I’ll probably just call him Dynamight if I’ll ever need to use his hero name lmao

Anon said: not to be the most romantic sap but uh just a kiss by lady a is killin me

Nothing sappy about letting romantic songs get to you!!!! I say, as I’m constantly crying over romantic songs so this mindset benefits me as well lol

Anon said: i may or may not have stumbled across some of your older kiribaku art, the stuff with akane, and she's the best child oc tbh. i actually like her and i tend to not be a fan of child ocs but she's just the cutest darn thing 🥰

I’m so glad you like her!!!!! She was a lot of fun, what a good gremlin ;;;

Anon said: uve heard of dragon!kiri w his hair spikes up, now get ready for dragon!kiri w his hair dowm lookin like the softest boy

AW HECK I think I’ve drawn him in the past, actually!!!! Spike-haired Kiri will forever be my fav Kiri, but there’s just something about hair down Kiri isn’t it!! What a cute boy ;;;; all sharp edges and soft curves, what a lovely sight

Anon said: can i just say your itafushi art is so cute? these two already make me feel and then your art just (つω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

THANK YOU SO MUCH I really need to draw them more, don’t I! goge kinda monopolized my attention there, but the way itafushi makes me feel..........boy the way they make me feel ;;;;

Anon said: good day, poké au thought: 12 y/o bakugo somehow catches a dreepy as like his 2nd pokemon and never questions it

WHY NOT WHY NOT I have a whole team in my mind for the boy tbh but dreepy is so cute ;;;; and anyway, I like my poke!bakugou with as many dragon types as he could possibly get his hands on hahaha

Anon said: Please know that, amongst other factors, you were one of the maon reasons I stsrted Jujutsu Kaisen two days ago and there isnothing more to say except thank you and I'm absolutely in debt with you for that, thank you so much 😍

I’m so so SO glad you’re liking it!!!!!! It can get kinda heavy but it’s such a great story.... honestly I’d been wanting to start it since I saw the first pv for the anime all the way back last year but I was like, you know it’s a mappa anime! so I wanted to watch the anime as a new thing, cause I love mappa, but three episodes in I couldn’t hold back and just binged it. It’s kind of story that just makes you wanna drink it all in one go, isn’t it? so good so good

Anon said: makeup artist kirishima and model bakugo or makeup artist bakugo and model kirishima? :0c

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm can’t say I see either of them much into fashion tbh, but if I had to pick probably model Kiri and artist Baku? I just don’t think Baku would be able to stay still enough to get photographed, and he wouldn’t like the photographer bossing him around anyway, and catwalks would be impossible for him to stomach imho, he’s too restless for it! At least it’s the way I see it haha

Anon said: fdgdhdkfhdafs i had a thought, what if bakugo prefers dogs and kirishima prefers cats and when they meet each other and become friends it's like, "oh." because they have some striking similarities to their fave animals

That’s been my headcanon for a while now, actually!! I think for me it came from two characters in a manga I like that are a lot like a dog and a cat but have inverted fav animals and when I read about that I was like “oh, right, makes sense since they like each other” and then my brain turned it krbk because when does it not lmao

Anon said: your art is the soothing balm to my soul recently, thank you for posting so much beautiful content. i hope you have a lovely week. ♡

sob thank you so much, I’m glad my doodling can help you feel better ;; <3

Anon said: Friendly reminder anon from last time: that post I left last time I had only eaten 7 gingersnaps that day and hadn’t drank any water. So that encouraged me to actually self care. Thank you.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! well I hope you’re taking care of yourself today too! And as fair trade, I’ll do the same myself! <3

Anon said: Hi! I'm an artist and I'm thinking of making a sideblog for my art. Do you have any tips?

Ah man, I’m sorry but I’m not the best person to ask this to! I started this sideblog cause I had too many followers on my main and I didn’t want my stuff to be seen by that many people at first, so whatever I did probably isn’t what you’re looking for :( but really there isn’t much to it, just post whatever you like to draw, tag it as best as you can (but remember that only the first five tags appear in the search page) and be patient, since whatever you do at first you won’t get much attention anyway - the only real advice I can give is to draw something that makes you happy and that you’d draw anyway even if no one were to see it, it’ll make keep posting despite a possible lack of activity a lot easier!

Anon said: Your goge art🥺🥺

I just love them so much ( TT’’’TT)9

Anon said: how the fuck have i not been following you? I remember seeing your bakushima art in the bnha tag and always thinking it's so cute. Now you're into JJK too??? and the satosugu art??? fuckin, diabetes incarnate. I love it. I love you. Your art 10/10. I'm tired lmao.

WELL thank you for the follow!! And for thinking my stuff is cute!!!!! I do my best with that, I want all the soft things for my favs 😌

Anon said: Are you gonna draw Gojou/Getou comic?? 👉🏻👈🏻 WOULD LOVE TO READ IT

you mean an actual doujin? I don’t think I will, sorry! I’m really no good at long projects orz but thank you so much for wishing to read something like that from me!!! ;A;

Anon said: Hello! YOUR ART IS SO FREAKING GORGEOUSSSS!!! I love them so much!! If I may ask you one question. Between Getou amd Gojou, who do you see as top/bottom? Just curious

THANK YOU!!!!! And I honestly don’t care as long as they’re happy and together!!! please let them be happy and together 🙏🙏🙏

Anon said: i want you to know!!! i followed you for your kiribaku art but!!! i love your art so much that idc what you post because it's all just!!!! incredible and wonderful and stunning!!!

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!!! this means a lot to me so seriously thank you so much!!!!

Anon said: d'you think bakugo has like headaches or migraines after training or battles because of how loud his quirk is? like, i listen to music slightly too loud and my head is sending me to hell. (unless you go with the hoh hc which is also 👌)

I like to think Baku’s body is attuned enough to his own quirk that he wouldn’t get drawbacks of the kind tbh, though that wouldn’t be a bad thought for when he just starts to increase the output/width and strength of his explosions............ well, I myself suffer from chronic headaches and migraines so I’m always up for projecting on my favs ngl lmao

Anon said:  so like... dragon kirishima's eyes glow right? like, if we equate his dragon-ness to unbreakable his eyes glow? they also glow when he's half shifted? honestly i just live glowing eyes

Oh hell yeah I’m all for that, definitely definitely, I love glowing eyes with my whole heart and Kiri’s eyes in unbreakable are just so!!!!!! NGH *chef kiss* the more of unbreakable there is in his dragon form the happier I am ( TT^TT)9

Anon said: me, scrolling through your blog: ah shit guess im gonna have to start watching jjk

!!!!! hope it won’t hurt you too much, anon!!

Anon said: dragon!kiri and bakugo having a tug-of-war match over a piece of meat. both have it in their mouths. both are determined to win.

Kiri is turned into his dragon form and Baku still wins, hell yeah

Anon said: your satosugu is top tier!! it's hard to find stuff for them that isn't straight up angst so your art has been super cool and also very very cute!! (tho if you went with angst, it wouldn't be a bad thing obviously)

AH I’m so happy to hear you like them!!!! but also happy you wouldn’t mind angst, as I do like them the best happy and soft but my brain, my brain has been throwing sads my way for a while now 👀 I got some ideas

Anon said: What program/device do you use??

Easy Paint Tool SAI and a wacom intuos!! Though I got myself an ipad+procreate just yesterday and I’ve been messing around with it, let’s see how that one goes!

Anon said: *inahles* i am simping for mohawk man please tell me everything about your ocs immediately or i will detonate

THANK YOU FOR LIKING HIM HE’S CALLED DAVIDE Dav for short, he’s a cat of a man and a music instrument enthusiast (mostly string ones, but he’s very good with the piano as well) - he works in a music instruments store, and he’s a uni student majoring in philosphy! He doesn’t like bothersome things, he isn’t very good at taking anything seriously or putting effort in stuff, but he’s very chill to spend time with and generally a nice chat both if you want mindless thoughts or deep conversations (he’s a philosophy major after all). He can’t sing for shit, he’s got two cats (tago and schelly!), and he just wants a quiet life to laze around but all his friends are hurricanes in human bodies, but then again, he picked them himself so he can’t complain. He’s a good boy!! I’m planning a comic for him and his boy Ross >:]

[bangtan-sonyeonddaeng]

BTS Reaction: The first time they are intimate with you

Namjoon

He would like the spontaneity. When the time was right, you both would just take things as they would go naturally. It’s a few weeks into your relationship. Namjoon wanted to go on an early morning hike with you and as much as you disliked being outside in the cold, you couldn’t deny that sipping on hot chocolate and watching the sunrise together sounded like the perfect way to spend your morning. It was a little colder than you both anticipated, so you decided to stay in the car and watch the sunrise with the warmth of the heater blowing on the two of you. You sip your drink until the sky becomes bathed in different hues of gold and pink. 

“It’s beautiful. Thank you for inviting me, Namjoon.” But when you turn to look at him you find he’s not looking at the sky at all, but at you. He’s taken with your beauty. The way the sun is shining on your skin is literally making you glow like an angel. And it’s in that moment that he thinks now is the right time. He sets his cup down and takes yours to set them both in the holder. The look in his eyes tells you all you need to know. You both lean in at the same time and a fire immediately ignites in both of you as your lips connect. His hands ghost down to the hem of your shirt and he begins to lift it over your head. His lips immediately drift down to your chest as he starts leaving love bites in his wake. 

“N-Namjoon, back seat. Move. Now.” He pulls away and lets out a snicker.

“Someone is impatient.” 

“Well who’s fault is that? Maybe you shouldn’t so damn handsome and such a good kisser, hmm?” He laughs a little louder at that and playfully smacks your butt as you’re climbing into the back. 

“You know this isn’t exactly how I’d imagine our first intimate moment together being like.” You blush in embarrassment for a moment at his words. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way. As long as it’s with you, that’s all that matters to me.” Even though there is a possibility of someone else seeing you two, you take your time with one another. Exploring each other’s bodies, what makes the other tick. By the time you’re done you are both spent, slowly drifting off to sleep as he covers you both up with a blanket he put in the back incase you got cold on your hike, and hoping to whatever deity is listening that the windows are tinted enough that no one will be able to see the both of you.

Jin

Jin had texted you earlier and asked you to come over to his apartment for a ‘surprise’. You had no idea what was in store for you. The last time that happened you were cleaning flour out of your hair for days, having become a victim of another one of his pranks. Jin was always very playful with you. So when you got a text just asking you to come over because it was very important, you didn’t hesitate to drop everything you had planned to go be with him. You walked into his apartment and it was pitch black, save for a soft glow that was coming from the living room. 

“Jin?” 

“In here, baby!” You walk into the room and find that the soft glow is coming from a pillow and blanket fort decorated with fairy lights. 

“Love, what is all this? Oh my goodness!” You take in the sight around you. The lights are twinkling like stars in the night sky, your favorite fluffy blanket of his makes up the flooring, and he’s stuffed the fort absolutely full with pillows. In the center of all this, sits your boyfriend with a single red rose in his mouth, and other petals scattered about the blankets and pillows. He winks at you suggestively and you bring a hand up to your mouth to stifle your laugh. He pats the spot next to him and you walk over to lay down next to him. He takes the rose out of his mouth and hands it to you. 

“A beautiful flower for my beautiful flower, y/n.” You blush but take the rose and smile up at him. 

“So what’s the occasion?” 

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

“Okay.” You sit up but he gently pushes you to lay back down. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him so your back is against his chest. A kiss is placed on the top of your head. 

“So we’ve been together for a while now. Almost a year.” 

“Mhm.” His fingers are running through your hair now and you feel yourself starting to drift off. 

“And I really want to show you how serious I am about you. I trust you with my heart. And I’m ready to give it to you completely.” Your eyes snap open and you turn around so you’re facing him. 

“Do you mean that?”

“Every word. I just.. want to thank you for being patient with me and waiting until I was ready. It’s not that I didn’t trust you! It’s just... in my line of work you tend to get used a lot and I was afraid. I didn’t want it to happen again.” Your heart aches at his confession. 

“Of course. I’m in it for the long haul, you’re stuck with me.” 

“That’s all I could ever want. You by my side, knowing that my heart will always be safe...” He fidgets with the sleeve of his sweater, picking at a loose string as if he’s nervous to meet your gaze.  “Can we?” 

“Yes.” You nod your consent and his lips barely brush against yours. He takes his time with you, loving you and completely worshipping every inch of you. 

Yoongi

Yoongi has wanted to take your relationship forward for a while now. But he wasn’t going to make the first move because he didn’t want you to feel pressured, he would take this at your pace, until you were comfortable enough with him. 

You were at the studio with him, loving to just sit and watch him create music. He often would ask for your input and opinions and you were all too happy to give them, feeling honored that you got to hear the songs he was working on before anyone else. He’s in the middle of finishing up his latest song for his mixtape when you say something that nearly makes him choke on his coffee.

“Yoongi do you think I’m attractive?” He almost thinks he must not have heard you correctly, so he asks you to repeat yourself. 

“W-what did you say?”

“I asked if you think I am attractive.” 

“What kind of- Are you kidding? You’re the most beautiful and sexy person I have ever seen in my life and I am so happy to call you mine.”

“Then why do you never, you know.. take things farther? When we kiss and it gets even the least bit heated you pull away and ruffle my hair and kiss my forehead. Everytime.” 

He’s stunned at your words. He didn’t realize you had been feeling this way and he feels awful. “You think I don’t want you?”

“I mean I know you love me but.. I just don’t know if you think I am pretty enough to-” 

“Stop it. Come here.” He pats his lap and you move off the couch to straddle his hips. He grips yours tightly and before you can speak another word his lips are on yours like a man starved. You barely have time to breathe for a second as his lips seem to refuse to leave yours. He pulls away to finally give you a break and when he does, he has that signature smirk on his face that makes your stomach clench. 

“Let me show you just how much I’ve wanted my hands on you, from the start.”

Yoongi puts as much fire and passion if not more than he does into his music. He’s rough with you, leaving marks visible on your neck and marks on your hips from how tightly he’s holding onto you. Wanting you to see evidence for weeks of just how much he wants you. Afterwards he’s like a completely different person. Having gone completely pliant for you. He clings tightly to you like a koala, refusing to let you go even to get dressed. He’s going to make damn sure you feel loved appreciated. 

Hoseok

You went to the studio with Hoseok to watch him perform the new choreography he was working on. You absolutely loved watching him dance. He put every bit of passion he had in him into his dance and it showed. By the intense expression on his face, by the way he kept dancing even after he was drenched in sweat, by the way that even when his brows were furrowed in concentration you could see a smile behind his eyes with the way they shined. He was totally in his element and you would forever be grateful to get to see him like this in a way most people never got to. 

This dance was a little... different from the others he had shown you. The way he was moving his hips was leaving little to your imagination. It was like he was purposely trying to seduce you, and it was working. You found yourself gravitating towards him without even realizing it and before long you were standing flush up against his back, arms snaking around his waist. 

“Hoseok did you invite me here to try and have your way with me?” He laughs at that and turns around in your hold. 

“Hmm.. well it wasn’t my sole intention. But I found myself thinking if this lead to other things... I can’t say I would mind.” He says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. You playfully smack his chest and laugh along with him. “I mean it’s only fair! This is the place where I do what I love most everyday, it only makes sense that you should be added to that.” His expression darkens and your laughter immediately ceases as his lips crash onto yours. 

The tension had been building up between the two of you long enough, and you both reached your release quickly. Laying on the floor, the only sound being both of your heavy breaths filling the room. 

“That was.. wow.”

“Yeah, wow.”

“You up for round 2, sweetheart?” 

Jimin

It was pretty early on in your relationship when you and Jimin were intimate for the first time. He naturally showed his love and affection for others through touches, cuddles, hugs, and kisses. So when he quickly fell for you he wasted no time in making sure that you knew that. You were both laying on your side on his bed, facing each other. He had a hand resting gently on your waist as he rubbed circles with his thumb onto your side. Every once in a while he would lean in and place kisses on your nose, cheeks, and forehead making you let out light breaths of laughter. 

“You’re so beautiful you know that?”

“Hmm, I think you may told me that a time or two.” 

“And you’re so cute. I love your laugh. It’s my favorite sound in the world.” 

“Jimin...” Your eyes soften and you lean in and finally connect your lips together His fingers immediately grasp you a little tighter and pull you closer. 

“I just really really like you y/n. I’ve never fallen for someone this quickly before and I don’t quite know what to do. It’s scary.” You cup his face in your hands and lightly kiss his cheeks.

“You don’t have to be afraid. I really like you too. And for the record I also think your laugh is the best sound in the world. And you’re really beautiful too.” Things just naturally fall into place after that. Jimin is gentle with you, but every bit as passionate. He is a dancer after all, and he is going to put those hips to work to make sure you would never want to be with anyone else ever again, that you will never doubt just how strong his feelings for you are becoming. Afterwards he’s very clingy, refusing to leave your side or let you go. He’s still laying on top of you, pressing kisses over your chest and neck. 

“Jimin you’re gonna get me all riled up again, stop it.” 

“What if that’s my intention?”

“Oh my gosh you are insatiable we already went at it twice. My thighs hurt.” He chuckles at you and leans down to kiss right where you just said was aching. He feels the muscles twitch under his lips. “Jimin!”

“I know, angel I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I just want to make sure this is real. You’re actually here and I’m not just imagining it. Sometimes I think you’re too perfect and I just made you up.” He rolls off of you and lays on his side, gazing at you with wide, wondering eyes. 

“I can assure you this is very real. I am real. My love for you is real. And nothing is ever going to change that or make it fade.” 

Taehyung

Taehyung had everything planned. You two had been together for a few months now, and even if it wasn’t very long, he knew. You were it for him. He wanted everything to be perfect. So he planned a very nice romantic night out for the two of you. There was an overlook he had found when he had gone on an early morning hike with Namjoon for a Run punishment, and when he saw it he knew he wanted to take you there. He had packed a basket for the two of you with your favorite snacks and a bottle of wine to share. He had the blanket spread out and fluffed up all the pillows. You two spent the evening sharing stories with each other and making one another laugh. That was what you always loved about yours and Taehyung’s relationship. It was as easy as breathing, completely natural. And you both were head over heels for one another and could feel the love shared between you two with a single glance. 

As the night was winding down and moon was shining on you, he found himself absolutely taken with your beauty and couldn’t help himself. He wanted to wait until you two got home, but seeing how you looked right now in this moment he knew he wasn’t going to be able to wait that long. He’s a patient man, but even he has his limits. You saw the change in his expression, from sweet and gentle to passionate with his pupils blown with want for you. 

“Y/n I love you. More than anything in this world and I want to show you just how much. Is that okay?” He tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls you close to him, connecting your lips together at last. When you pull away you’re breathless. He’s staring at you, waiting for your consent to take things further. 

“I love you too. And I am more than okay with that. Make me yours, Tae. Please.” 

He’s gentle and sweet with you, pouring every ounce of love he has for you in every kiss, every touch. He takes his time with you, wanting to savor every moment and commit everything to memory. The way you sound, the way you taste, the way you look at him like he’s your entire world. And he’s looking right back at you the same way.

Jungkook

When Jungkook invited you over to watch a movie with him, he wasn’t planning for things to have escalated the way that they did. One minute you were laughing at something funny the main character had said as he admired your laugh and how beautiful you looked with your head thrown back, a fit of giggles escaping your lips. The next you were under him breathing heavily and moaning his name. He froze at that, lifting himself up to hover over you. 

“I-I’m sorry! Is this okay? I didn’t even ask, I just sort of pounced on you.” You giggle and rest your hand on his cheek, trying to set his mind at ease. 

“It’s okay. I want this just as much as you do.” 

“A-are you sure? Like, really sure? I.. I don’t want you to feel like you have to or anything. We can wait for another time I mean, it’s not a special occasion or anniversary or a-anythi-” You cut off his rambling with a gentle kiss to his lips and he seems to relax, his arms giving out as he rests himself back on top of you. 

“Are you nervous? You tend to talk really fast and stutter when you are.” 

“A little. Yes. Okay a lot.” 

“Why?”

“Because it’s just.. it’s you. You’re perfect and beautiful and amazing in every way.” 

“And like you said, it’s just me. You don’t have to be nervous around me. I’ll take care of you.” His cheeks flush as he nods and rolls over onto his back, tugging you with him to straddle his hips. He tries to hide his face, suddenly feeling quite shy but you aren’t having it, tugging his arms away and placing them over his head. 

“Those stay up.” 

“Sure thing boss.” You giggle and lean down to kiss him. Things quickly turn heated after that as you set the pace you’re comfortable with. Jungkook completely lets you take over, wanting nothing more than to make you feel good above all else. 

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 18

i'm sorry this is a few days late!! it's been real Headless Chicken time around here for a number of reasons, but, here you go!

this chapter is also known as, "LUKANETTE SHIPPERS COME GET Y'ALL JUICE: Part 1"

to: Marinette hey… um. hey. just. checking if you’re okay. those postcards came out beautiful.

from: Marinette shouldn’t i be asking you that?

to: Marinette i’ll live. i’m a Couffaine, “chaos” is practically my middle name. …so… how can i pay you? cash? one of those money apps?

from: Marinette just get better 😊 that’s all.

Getting better shouldn’t feel like such a tall order. But like with other affairs, Luka will just say it’s his fault and call it a night.

It only takes a few days for his knee to go from “bulging, throbbing mess” to “sort of tolerable,” and he doesn’t understand how the time is so annoying and yet so relieving. He has to call out of work because there’s no way they—or Juleka— will let him bike or even hobble around Paris with an injury like that. But it opens up his schedule for more band practice. And more chances to talk to Bubbles. Or, more accurately, convince Bubbles that he can still hold his own and shred the setlist to pieces.

And yeah, he tries his hand at perfecting Marinette’s song, but it barely comes out any better. Whatever melody is swirling in his head sounds wrong on paper, and even worse on guitar. Checking the posts of his drafts doesn’t help, either; the likes and comments and reposts have mostly come to a halt, no matter how many times he bumps the latest version to the top of his profile.

He thinks, for the most part, that it’s doomed to live in his head forever. And he hates it. Hates that it doesn’t sound right or good. Hates that he’ll never get to share what he really hears, what he really feels... with anyone.

The best he can manage is hopping on the metro, with his guitar and his amp and his busking license tied around the belt loop of his jeans, and finding just the right stone ledge or just the right bench at the bridge with the padlocks. Sometimes he doodles, strums out whatever comes to mind and hopes it resonates with someone. Some then he takes requests or plays fan favorites, the kind that earns him a smile or even an extra euro in his case.

He’s got to make the money somehow.

One time, he plays by the fountain at the Place des Vosges. For the parents who need something to tide them over while their children ask for balloons and skin their elbows and ride the carousel one too many times. He thinks about angles, and hearing colors, and pear tarts fresh from the oven, and business cards that look like flyers. He thinks about the color blue, too. Ocean blue. But he doesn’t play it. He’ll save it for a better occasion, when he’s not weighed down with cutting deals and combing through backstory that he’s not quite sure he’ll ever earn. When he’s not thinking about Marinette dropping a few coins in his case at the padlock bridge and almost looking guilty about it.

He shakes his head and gathers his paltry earnings for the day into the side pocket of his gig bag, stretches his leg to see if it’s worth putting weight on again. It doesn’t protest too much, thank God; at least he’ll be home before it gets too dark. But the sound of music stops him once he crosses the street. A radio. And it’s playing outside.

And it’s just over his head.

It takes him one moment to realize he’s stopped in front of Tom & Sabine’s, and another to look up. There is Marinette, watering some flowers in a box and resting her chin in her hand. Humming along to the music. when she meets his eyes, it sounds like her. Like exactly what he’s been looking for. Good, and right, and perfect.

And... sad.

The one thing Luka’s grateful for is that he wasn’t standing there long. Instead of fear or panic, he’s only caught up in mild surprise, and to his relief, so is Marinette. He readjusts his weight on his good leg, and he manages a wave with his free hand. “You know,” he says with a weak laugh, “we really gotta stop meeting like this.”

The smile Marinette gives him in return is just as sad as her humming, but harder to read. He doesn’t know if it’s telling her she agrees or disagrees, or if she doesn’t want him to go. Or if it’s something else entirely, something he’s not a part of. “Hey,” she says, leaning over the balcony to get a better look at him. Or maybe just at his leg.

He glances down at it, gives it a little shake, and shrugs in the face of the urge to wince. “It’ll be fine,” he says as nonchalantly as he can. “I’ll be back at work in a day or two. But, y’know... let me know if you’d rather I go busk somewhere else.”

Which, he’ll admit, is code for, let me know if you don’t want to see me anymore. He’s given her enough reasons for her to feel that way.

If Marinette’s somehow waded through to the real meaning of it, she doesn’t show it, and Luka doesn’t know if that’s a good thing. Instead, she leans over to pause her music, brushes her hair out of her eyes, and says, “Do you... wanna come upstairs?”

Well.

He wasn’t expecting that.

Luka can’t get any words out, so all he does is nod dumbly and limp toward the side door. On a better day, he might have been able to scale the bakery and hop over the balcony railing, if all his work on the Liberty is anything to go by. But maybe his guitar wouldn’t necessarily appreciate that. And neither would Mr. Dupain or Mrs. Cheng; he’d probably scare them half to death. Not to mention that maybe this is the sort of stunt reserved for Actually Cool People, and Luka is only ever Actually Cool in the recesses of his imagination or with a guitar in his hands.

Marinette meets him by the side door and lets him in with barely a sound. It doesn’t seem like she’s trying to sneak him in, the way she might have if they were in high school. If she might have even pulled off something like that in high school. But they slip into the apartment with Marinette’s whispered explanation that her father’s closing up shop and her mother’s getting ready for a dinner date. It reminds him, as they head to her room and she shows him how to hoist up onto the balcony, of all the dates his ma tried to go on. And how one day, she just stopped trying, and didn’t shed a tear over it.

Maybe, he thinks as he leaps up on the weight of one leg, he’s built for something like that. Or should be.

Marinette lets him take the deck chair so he can rest his leg, despite his weak insistence that he’s fine. She doesn’t go back to watering the flowers, or even leaning on the railing and giving the city that wistful look he thought was only reserved for Adrien Agreste. Instead, she sits cross-legged on the floor, and she watches him, never lingering on one part of him for too long. Like she’s expecting him to say something. Maybe it’s payback, in the end, for all the times she must have caught him.

“Hey,” he finally says to break through the quiet. “That song you were listening to... Can you play it again?”

She jolts to attention then, nods without a word, makes a grab for her phone. With a few taps, the song bleeds to life with a few piano notes, the rise of a few violins, the thrum of a cello. Luka thinks he’s heard this before, once. The words are all in English, so he doesn’t quite know what they’re saying. All he knows is the blue. It’s electric, it’s swelling in his chest, buzzing under his skin, closing his eyes. It sounds...

Like the ocean.

Like a world Marinette’s pulling him into. Her world. And he’s stepping into it. Just for a while. Or like, perhaps, just for that while, they’re meeting in the middle.

She must know what the song is about. She can wade through the colors and the sound, right to the words, as she sings to herself in accented English, as her voice dips low but not quite low enough, as her breath snags on the notes it can’t hold for very long. Maybe that’s why she seems so sad. Or maybe it’s something else.

“That song sounds like your eyes,” he says once the violins fade. It sounds like what I’ve been looking for.

Marinette looks at him like he’s lost his mind, and maybe he has. But there’s a softness to it. Like maybe no one’s ever said anything like that to her before. Like, secretly, she’d spent years wishing someone would. “What?”

“Oh, uh. It’s...” He can’t tell if it’s the music, or the evening sky, or Marinette that’s making it hard to snap back to himself. Maybe it’s all three. “It’s... that sound-color thing I told you about—”

“No, I—I figured.” Marinette fumbles as she turns down the volume. He hardly thought her the type, but she does it like it’s something she’s done for ages. Like she’s tapping into someone she used to be. “You... think about my eyes?”

Luka can feel his face burning, his stomach lurching. He’s overthinking, he knows it, but somehow it doesn’t feel wrong for him to say, “I’ve been trying to get them right for a long time.”

She gives him a confused look at first, but understanding cracks across her face once he unzips his gig bag, sets up the amp, and sets his guitar in his lap.

“Can you play it again?” he asks. It’s quiet, and unsure, but there’s a tinge of hope to it. “I want to get it right.”

Marinette’s eyes go wide, and her cheeks turn pink under the delicate string lights. It seems like she holds onto her breath for longer than she means to, but she nods, and she does that fumbling thing again as she reaches for her phone. Once those first piano notes trickle out, she looks to him expectantly. That’s all it takes for his fingers to find the strings. For his heart to find that ocean blue. He doesn’t quite copy the melody note for note; instead, he finds the little pockets where his music fits, and he makes it sound a little fuller. A little more like her.

Maybe it’s not perfect. But it’s good enough.

Somewhere along the way, Luka closed his eyes, and when he opens them again, he finds Marinette sitting closer—just across from him, in fact. She’s huddled up with her chin on her knees, all but marveling at him in silence. When she finally speaks, it’s after she’s paused the next song, and it’s only to breathe, “Wow.”

Luka’s not feeling particularly flirtatious; actually, the most he does is laugh sheepishly and rub the back of his neck. “I’m not so good with words,” he says. “But music gets me pretty close to what I want to say. So… maybe I was wrong about not having an angle. Maybe my thing is playing people.”

Marinette snaps out of it long enough to laugh, all breath, and say, “Where I’ve been, that sounds an awful lot like you’re a con man.”

“I’m not a con man, I mean... what people sound like. Their hearts, or... the parts of them that are most beautiful. That sound like that”— he gestures toward the speaker, and then up to the sky—”or remind us that... whatever we’re made of, it came from up there. Somewhere. That’s what I wanna think about, when I play…”

He catches himself and goes silent, but Marinette’s already giving him a meaningful look, teeth sinking into her lip. Somewhere along the line, her face went right to scarlet.

“Me,” she says. “That’s what you were playing in the park. Me.”

Luka doesn’t know how much of him has been discovered, but he keeps quiet all the same. He won’t give any more of himself away. It’s only as he’s about to apologize—for what, he’s not entirely sure—that Marinette cuts him off.

“Look, I… I need to tell you about something.”

He grips his guitar more tightly, because his phone is too far out of reach, and all the alarm bells go off.

[ancient-namess]

When you get this, please reply five things that make you happy and send this to the last ten people in your notifications. 🥰

LISTS MY BELOVED

1. rn ?? phineas & ferb. when i started ironically watching this show back in september i did not expect to develop a genuine hyperfixation but life takes u places huh. anyway i like how simply positive it is and the characters just !! bring me so much joy !!

2. PETS..... the best part of my day is sitting w/ peggy and listening to her purr or following gidget about bc she is screaming for attention or talking to angel who is screaming simply because she can or playing w/ the string for boots or seeing patch's happy face bc we're going for a walk

3. my partner !! learning anime lore from him and sending each other memes on instagram and talking about queer books or hanging out while hozier plays in the background. forever grateful to him for putting up w/ my pnf infodumping <3

4. MUSIC !! putting on headphones and blasting a song youre hyperfixating on (dance baby im lookin at you <3) or stimming to caravan palace or vibing to lord huron..... music my beloved

5. atm im having a lot of fun with art so theres that ?? i feel like im kinda Getting Somewhere with my style so >:3 that's exciting