#all the people this man loves exasperate him AT LEAST a teensy bit so it’s only fitting

[salvadoerena]

hey! this is chance & here’s week 2’s prompt. pick one of your ocs. are they open to other people’s perspectives? do they go out of their way to learn new things?

I'll go ahead and talk about William since I'm writing a sort of origin story for him right now!

So William Byrne Jr is the son of William Byrne Sr, a fairly successful lawyer/notary in Rosemead. He was raised in a very traditional and conservative manner, but had an incident in his young teen years that really amped up that conservative upbringing (plot twist: it was a gay thing). So, naturally, he ended up being more closed-minded and comfortable with the status-quo.

Outwardly, at least.

Inwardly, William is livid. He's angry at himself and his family and his hometown. He hates how others look at him and how he has to put on a facade in order for the townspeople to treat him normally/fairly. It's through his sheer forced normalcy and his father's business/reputation that William was able to scrape by with a fairly neutral reputation. Once he started picking up his father's work and became a notary/lawyer himself, people started viewing him a teensy bit better.

Okay now that all that context is out of the way, onto the meat of the question:

William loves forgery.

He developed a strong sense of justice following the incident and isn't afraid to forge legal documents if he feels that the terms are unfair. He has a habit of going to taverns to listen in on gossip/idle chit chat and get to know the people in town both as a defense mechanism (how can I fit in here) and as a way to inform himself of what the situation is. "Okay I'm here for the Richardson Ranch acquisition, but is Lorry dealing with them fairly?"

While he's not going too far out of his way to learn new academic things like languages, history, art, etc, he's fairly invested in learning about the culture and laws (both legal and social) of where he's going. One, because it helps the business and two, because, again, youth trauma. He may be open to learning about new perspectives and the like, but it doesn't mean he'll agree with them. He might just nod politely and go "What an interesting perspective! I will be sure to not take that into account."

It's by doing this very thing that he ends up getting roped into becoming a pirate on the Ellina. When James and his crew dock in Stonesend, he ends up getting a taste of the "wild and reckless" freedom that Ellinacrew (as I affectionately call them) enjoy. For him, unapologetic and authentic self-expression was too intoxicating to turn down--as was Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome Emmanuel Cervantes. So, he does what any good 30yo repressed lawyer/notory Jr does: he runs away.

Anyways! Here's a little excerpt from the story:

They were knocking over the drinks without a care in the world, and William found himself once again enraptured. By now, the musicians had joined in as well, drumming and fluting away while the crowd supplemented it all with cheers and claps of their own. He fingers itched for his own fiddle to join in, and he cursed himself for leaving it at the inn. They weren’t supposed to be here anymore, so what were they doing still here and leaping from table to table? He looked around their original table, hoping for some sort of explanation. There were four others still in their seats: a man with brown hair who seemed to hate the song just as much as William did, his seemingly-amused friend who pat the poor man’s shoulder in apology, a taller man with a shaved head that lamented his spilled drink, and lastly— William wanted to throttle himself for not bringing his fiddle. Emmanuel was sitting at the table as well, hands clapping along and his face somewhere between fond, exasperated, and unsurprised. He seemed to be watching the fiddler more intently than the singer, or the boy, and something akin to jealousy, or desperation flared up in William. He looked around, searching for anyone that may have had a spare fiddle, or flute, or—or gods’ offcuts he would have even settled for a piano! Out of the corner of his eye, William saw the bartender put some cutlery away and, without thinking, he nearly lept over the bar and snatched two spoons from him. He ignored the bartender’s angry shouts and, steadying himself, quickly downed the rest of his cider. If he made a fool of himself, well, he wouldn’t be coming back. Taking the spoons in his hands, he took a moment to find the rhythm quietly to himself, before he began to play them loudly, in earnest. A few heads turned towards him, and he felt himself flush, but more importantly the table—Emmanuel’s table—still had not turned. He braced himself. ‘Oh gods William you must have dined with Seamus tonight,’ he thought to himself. Then, he leapt onto the nearest table and continued to play. Both the woman and the fiddler stopped, briefly, surprised that some outsider had joined their revelry, but William had almost forgotten about them. Emmanuel was looking at him, now, hands frozen just before a clap.  William kept the rhythm. Emmanuel let out an errant laugh, and began his clapping once more. That seemed to tear the others out of their brief stasis, and their singing and dancing started up once more with even greater fervor.

#ask #digital-chance #seraetia #william byrne #long post #writing

[xanrae]

mutual misunderstanding

laios is an enigma to kabru, and therefore he is fascinating.

dungeon meshi, kabru/laios, kabru & laios, character study ?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48711112

Laios is the one person Kabru has never been able to get through to.

Kabru is good with his words. He has a keen eye, a sharp memory, a charmer’s smile, and perhaps most importantly, a genuine interest in other people. He’s learned how to find out what people want, how they think, what levers to push to get what he needs.

Kabru, avid reader of humans, has never flip-flopped as many times on his opinion of a person as many times as he has with Laios Touden.

The Touden siblings are—?

They are good people, who give their share of profits to their less able teammates. They are selfish, corrupt adventurers to whom money is but an unfortunate necessity in the quest of the storied Golden Kingdom. They are skilled adventurers, veterans of many successful trips into the depths. They are stupid, weak, and gullible, prone to being bullied by the less savory groups on the surface.

They are a mystery.

And, most irritatingly, they—or perhaps more precisely, Laios—continue to elude his every attempt at conversation.

Kabru isn’t sure what he feels, really. Desperation, partially. He wants so badly to talk to Laios. He’s never met anyone so utterly divorced from his understanding of humanity that he can’t understand them at all. Maybe if Kabru can understand Laios’s passion for monsters, Laios can learn a little from Kabru’s love of people as well. There’s frustration, too. He’s tried to get Laios’s attention multiple times, with no success to show for it. It’s almost embarrassing how someone so well versed in people has failed so thoroughly in even getting someone to remember him, let alone talk to him. Sometimes Kabru is exasperated, convinced that his own approach is wrong. Sometimes he feels he wants to wrap his hands around Laios’s throat and shake him and shake him because there’s clearly something loose in his head, and enough rattling will drop it into its rightful place. Shake him until Laios finally looks at Kabru, sees him, acknowledges his presence, listens to his words.

These flares of frustration only serve to fan the flames of Kabru’s fascination until the enigmatic adventurer is where Kabru’s mind wanders to at almost every idle opportunity. There’s something about the thing you can’t tidy away and put into a box out of sight that really sticks in the mind.

It takes until the argument at the Mad Sorcerer’s house for Kabru to finally accept that to communicate with Laios, you need a more direct approach. All of his feather-light insinuations that have gently nudged others in the right direction—the direction Kabru wants them to go—have failed disastrously with Laios. He needs a firm touch. Firmer than desperate fingers grasping at a shirt sleeve. More substantial than fumbled pleas to stay. More straight-forward than pretenses to enjoying monster meat.

Laios Touden needs a firm and direct approach. Firm and direct, like a clenched fist to the face.

Kabru’s punch conveys a lot, actually, not least of all an impressive amount of kinetic energy that lands the larger man on his ass in the grass. Unfortunately, zero of that is what he was originally trying to say vis a vis the dungeon lord, the winged lion, Marcille, and so on. But he has to admit he feels a teensy bit a lot better inside. That knot inside his chest, the warring tensions of needing to conquer the dungeon, needing to talk to Laios, needing the Canaries to not eviscerate the one man he thinks can save them all, needing, needing, needing unravels just a little at the flare of pain in his fist as it connects with Laios’s jaw. Loosens just enough to let him breathe. Loosens just enough for Kabru to step back and let Laios leave, mutual understanding once again unachieved, and hope that maybe they will have that chance to catch up on dinner.

#writing #fanfic #fanwork #dungeon meshi #kabru #laios #its shippy but it's also kinda just rehashing of canon-events #so it just depends on how you want to read it

[writingfics-passingtime]

Hi JJ!! After avoiding it for almost 2 and a half years, the dreaded virus finally got me 😷

I know someone has only asked you about headcanons once, so feel totally free to say no! But might you have any Bucky headcanons or thoughts?

Hi anon !!! oh NO im so sorry to hear the dreaded plague caught you 🤧 I’m honoured you’ve come to me in this time 😂

JJ’s Bucky headcanons and thoughts:

Understandably, this man’s 1940’s confidence has waned a little bit. You might get glimpses of that vintage suave solider, but self-doubt has creeped in so it’ll take longer for Bucky to be sure it’s okay to initiate any kind of physical affection.

He’s kinda sweet, and begrudgingly shy about doing things like holding your hand or slipping an arm around your waist. He’d more likely offer you his arm as you’re walking down the street together, like he would’ve back then, but then stammer and remember that people didn’t do that much now.

He’d need lots of reassurance in the beginning. However, once you break past his insecurity he’d have a hard time keeping his hands off of you.

Seriously any excuse to pull you close, wrap his arms around your waist, rest his chin on your shoulder, the man will do it. He loves coming up behind you when you’re working or cooking and distracting you with stubbly nips to your ear, or some kind of whisper that makes you flinch and giggle.

When Bucky finds out you’re ticklish, he’s shy about it at first. If you’d had asked him why he may have blamed the metal arm, but he quickly finds that getting into play-wrestling-matches-turned-tickle-fights is an easy way be his playful self with you.

Bucky can be downright devious, trapping you under a leg or an arm or half his body to win and/or prove a point.

However, most of the time it would be more rough and tumble. Lots of chases. Short chases, mind you (let’s not forget he’s a super soldier), because he doesn’t just let you win. Not since you insisted you can handle yourself - which was in an entirely different context but he loves to use it against you.

Dating Bucky Barnes would include hands sneaking under your hoodie to grab at your sides when you teased him about anything, or wiggling fingers jammed under your arms when he catches you teaching him an incorrect pop culture reference. Also, lots and lots of warm nights wrapped up, draped over and under each other, nuzzling your nose against the bare skin of his neck until his grin is about to break into a laugh so he flips you onto your back and returns the favour.

This was fun to think about, thank you for your question !! I may be craving some warm, playful protagonists right now 😂

Feel better soon, lovely 💜

#Answered #thanks anon! #bucky headcanons #Bucky tickle headcanons #Bucky tickle #this man needs some gentle love #but someone who makes him go 🙄 #all the people this man loves exasperate him AT LEAST a teensy bit so it’s only fitting #on a side note why is tumblr mobile browser edit suite the worst thing ever #there’s no autocorrect ??? #I type too fast for that shit my thumbs are flying #I NEED AUTOCORRECT #Bucky x you #lol

[floralseokjin]

⤑ 9 months to fall in love 5.

It seems like everyone around you is either already in love, or in the process of falling, and while normally you couldn’t give a damn, finding out the co-worker you’ve had a teensy crush on is dating someone else at the office seems to sucker punch you right in the gut. It’s stupid, and you’re irritated at yourself, but you can’t seem to shake out of the funk you’ve fallen face first in.

Feeling lonely and heartsore, and mad for no reason, during drinks with your best friend you spot a man at the bar. Tequila confident, you make your way over to the stranger, and successfully one thing leads to another. The next morning you leave before he’s woken up, feeling satisfied in one way, but still as discontented as ever. Telling yourself it was an inebriated mistake, you quickly try to forget about it.

Only, three weeks later that night comes back to haunt you – in a very unescapable way…

pairing; kim seokjin x f reader au/genre; unplanned pregnancy, strangers to lovers, slow burn, romance (dare I say romcom in places), smut, angst, (melo)drama, dual pov  words; 8,410

warnings/includes (!) jungkook is a loveable asshole, first baby check-up which includes a transvaginal ultrasound, oc gets a teeny-weeny bit jealous but she won’t admit it, SERA (she needs her own warning by now lmao) 

⟶ ao3 link

*inspired by the manhwa ‘Positively Yours.’

↪︎ series index

SEASON ONE ⇤ previous | next ⇥

“I actually invited you both here tonight because I have something to tell you.” 

Seokjin cleared his throat, wincing at how serious he sounded. He was about to tell his best friends he was going to become a father, not deliver some terrible news. He was excited, albeit a little anxious. But dropping the news to two unsuspecting people was nerve-wracking, to say the least. He imagined how amplified that would be attempting to tell his parents and then stopped. He wouldn’t tell them yet. There was no rush, and it would be for the best anyway. To wait until things had become a little more comfortable…explainable… 

Jungkook looked up from the billiards table, his expression etched with concern. Seokjin was beginning to lose count of how many rounds they had played tonight. He’d admittedly been delaying things a little… 

“Shit, you’re not dying, are you?”

Before Seokjin could process his absurd question, Hoseok jumped in. “Jungkook! Why would you say something like that?” 

Jungkook shrugged and took his shot. 

Hoseok hesitated and looked at Seokjin. “You’re not though, right?”

“No, I’m not dying,” he exasperated, baffled as to why that would be their first thought. Hoseok looked instantly relieved but didn’t take his turn. 

“Bummer,” Jungkook said, casually chalking the tip of his cue. “Thought I was going to inherit AGS for sec there.” 

“That’s never going to happen.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismissed with a hand motion, as if he’d heard it all before. He had. “So what’s this news?” 

Seokjin took a deep breath and then blurted out: “I’m going to be a father.” 

Silence fell around the games room. Hoseok had seemingly frozen over. Jungkook’s eyes had widened frighteningly large. Then, just when things were becoming uncomfortable, he scoffed. “Okay.” It was obvious he thought Seokjin was joking around. “What is with you lately? I told Hobi you’re going through a midlife crisis or something. First you get obsessed with some chick you hooked up with—” 

“Don’t use that word,” Seokjin warned. You were not some chick. You weren’t a chick at all. The word was clearly disrespectful, yet Jungkook loved to use it so flippantly. 

“Wait—” Hoseok started, staring at Seokjin with wide eyes. “Seokjin. Are you trying to tell us that the woman you spent that night with a few weeks back is… pregnant with your baby?” 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you.” 

At least it saved him some explaining. 

“Wait, what?” Jungkook’s voice sounded unusually stunned. Then, he shook his head, refusing to believe him yet again. “No fucking way.”

Thank God for Hoseok. 

“When did you find out?” he asked, frowning in concern. 

Seokjin had known Hoseok practically all his life, their parents’ close friends. Their friendship had lasted for more than thirty years and for nearly ten of those, Hoseok had been his trusted secretary – his right-hand man. Seokjin was often a bit of a risktaker. Age had subdued him, but not fully, and Hoseok had always been there to keep him in line. Not to mention help organise his busy life.

Jungkook on the other hand, was his enabler. 

Their friendship could probably be better described as a sibling relationship. A few years younger, Jungkook brought out the juvenile side in Seokjin, even after all these years. Only right now, Seokjin wanted to be taken seriously. There was nothing funny about impending fatherhood. He needed to show you just how serious he was about this. 

“The night of the dinner,” Seokjin replied, looking at both of them, and finally he spotted the beginning of realisation on Jungkook’s face. The nth game of billiards was now forgotten. 

Seokjin sat down on one of the leather couches and chuckled self-consciously. “It turns out that it wasn’t some stroke of luck that we were both at the same café. She’d been trying to think of ways to contact me.” 

“Wait, so… she told you she was pregnant during the dinner?” Hoseok’s voice was slow and careful, trying to make sense of everything. He sat next to him. 

“Well, no,” – Seokjin paused to try and condense the events of that night – “She actually wasn’t feeling very well and I drove her to the hospital, and then she told me.” 

“How did you take it?” Jungkook asked curiously, glancing over at him.

Seokjin flushed in fresh shame. “Badly. I was in shock, which is no excuse for what I did.” He winced. “…but I ended up…leaving her there.”

“You did what?” 

“You left her at the fucking hospital, man?” 

Seokjin couldn’t meet their eyes. “I’m still ashamed of myself, but she’s giving me another chance. I found her and apologised.”  

“Not even I would do something like that!” Jungkook exclaimed, all high and mighty.

Seokjin shot him a look. He thought otherwise, but okay. 

“Is that why you were in such a horrific mood on Friday? I just figured the date went bad – well, it did I guess,” Jungkook snorted. “I just thought you didn’t get the sex you were expecting.” 

Horrified, Seokjin’s eyes bulged. “I wasn’t expecting to have sex with her again!” 

He’d asked you out for dinner because he couldn’t believe the moment he’d been daydreaming about for weeks had actually happened. There was nothing sexually motivated about it. He’d just wanted to see you again, to talk to you again – to get to know you properly! He had no idea why Jungkook had to sully such innocent intentions. He was nothing like him. 

“Anyway, I wasn’t in a horrific mood. I was struggling with a lot of emotions. But I’m all past that now. We both want the baby and that’s all that matters.” 

“That’s it?” Jungkook asked unbelievably. “You’ve just accepted it that easily? Suddenly you’re having a baby and you’re just this casual about it?” 

“Well, it still feels a little surreal, granted, but—” 

“Not to mention the fact that you have it embarrassingly bad for this chi–woman.”

“Yeah well, about that…” Seokjin began, playing with the strings of his hoody. “I’m forgetting about that now.” He ignored the embarrassment he felt. His friends had heard all about his crush these past few weeks. He wished he’d never said anything now. “Things have changed. The baby is more important.” 

“You’re forgetting about it?” Even Hoseok sounded doubtful. 

Jungkook laughed. “No, wait. Hobi. I see what’s going on here. He changed his mind now that she’s pregnant.”

“That’s not the case at all,” Seokjin refuted immediately, trying to control his irritation. He paused, about to admit something humiliating. “…I actually suggested that we should try to see where things went but she turned me down.” 

“You got rejected?!” Jungkook burst into laughter. 

“Yeah, I did. What about it?” 

“Jungkook, do you ever hear yourself speak and thing ‘wow, I’m a major asshole’? Because you should.”

“No. Never.” 

With a long sigh, Hoseok fully ignored the younger man and turned to Seokjin. “Congratulations, Seokjin. I’m sure it’s not how you wanted it to happen but I know you’ll be a great father.” 

His sincerity didn’t come as a shock, but it still caught Seokjin off guard, his throat tightening with emotion. “Thanks,” he managed to squeeze out. 

“Yeah, congrats, dude,” Jungkook conceded. “I never thought you’d be the one to accidentally knock someone up – y’know, out of the three of us.” 

“So you thought I would?” Hoseok baffled. 

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, but yeah, Jungkook was the obvious choice when it came to accidentally impregnating someone considering 1. He was the way he was and 2. Hoseok was gay.  

Jungkook ignored Hoseok’s question and continued his attempt at a congratulations. “But you’ll be a fucking amazing father. No one’s better for the job.” 

“Hey,” Hoseok cried. 

Seokjin was too busy grinning to barely notice him “Thanks, Jay Kay.” He truly hoped he could be an incredible dad. 

Jungkook made his way over to the bar in the corner of the room. “It’s time to CELEBRATE!” he whooped, picking out the oldest and most expensive bottle of (unopened) whisky. “Jin’s gonna be a daddy,” – he wiggled his eyebrows and looked over at Hoseok, continuing – “We’re gonna be uncles… Times are a-changin’!” 

Hoseok rolled his eyes. “Nothing will change for us two.” 

“Wait—” Jungkook’s eyes lit up as he poured the drinks. “I just realised we’re going to have this Three Men and a Baby thing going on.” 

“Have you even watched that movie?” Hoseok asked flatly. 

“No.” Jungkook started to walk over, three tumblers somehow in his hands. “Anyway, babies are chick magnets.” He handed one glass to Seokjin. "Let me borrow it once it’s born—” 

“My baby is not an it—”

“A recently widowed, now single father,” he continued, sitting next to Hoseok, who was trying to get his drink. “That’s going to work a fucking charm.” 

“You’re not using my innocent child to hoodwink unsuspecting women, you asshole. Get your own baby.” 

Jungkook wrinkled his nose is displeasure. Then turned to Hoseok with a hopeful look on his face. “Hobi?”

“No chance,” he scoffed. “I only got together with Kwan six months ago. Like Jin said, get your own baby.” 

“So what? Jin knew—,” Jungkook stopped abruptly and looked at Seokjin. “What’s her name again?” 

“____.” Even saying your name made him smile. If they both noticed, thankfully they didn’t comment.

Jungkook continued, not missing a beat. “Jin knew ____ not even six hours before he decided to have a kid with her.” 

“He’s not wrong,” Hoseok said, catching Seokjin’s look of indignation. 

“It didn’t quite happen like that,” he said tetchily. 

Uninterested with the talk of babies now, Jungkook changed the subject. “When do we meet her, Jin?”

“Hm, let me think. Probably never. Well,” he paused. “Hobi can, but not you.” 

Jungkook cocked an eyebrow. “Afraid she’ll like what she sees?” 

“Not really,” he replied, tone impassive. Jungkook wouldn’t be your type. He was certain. 

“I hear that women get super horny during pregnancy.” 

Seokjin blanched. His first thought should have been to tell his friend to shut the fuck up, but for some reason he wondered if it was true. Jungkook had said it with such confidence it might very well have been, but something didn’t completely add up. 

“Just stop talking, Kook.” 

Seokjin heard Hoseok’s irritated voice and turned his attention back to his friends, feeling lighter now that the news he’d been keeping for days had finally been shared. 

The next three weeks flew by almost stress-free. 

True to his word, Seokjin – which you had now grown used to calling him from time to time after a two-line text discussion asking what he liked to be known as. (You: ‘What do you prefer? Seokjin or Jin?’ Him: ‘I like both. So call me whatever you like.’) – kept regular contact with you. 

At first it was a few texts throughout the day. Usually, he would message you in the morning and then in the evening. It was a little awkward at first. Just nonstop repetitions of How are you? and I’m good, thank you. You? It felt as though you were conversing with a new client at work, not talking to the father of your unborn baby. Then finally, one night you bonded over the television series you were watching, mentioning it in a bid to save you from the monotonous nature of your shallow conversations. It turned out he’d already watched all three seasons and for the next half an hour you messaged back and forth animatedly about various characters and possible plot holes. He even recommended similar shows you might enjoy as well. You wondered how he was able to binge all these with how busy he was, and he told you he didn’t work ALL the time, punctuated with the 🤪 emoji. It was so endearingly awkward it made you laugh out loud, and it still did when you thought about it on the subway the next morning. 

Such a simple discussion really helped you both find your bearings and after that it got easier. He even started calling you in the evenings instead and the both of you chatted about your day. It fast became a routine, and it wasn’t long before you started looking forward to it. He started feeling less like a person you hardly knew and more like someone who was a…friend? It seemed too strong a word for your connection, but acquaintance seemed too cold. In the end you decided not to think too much about it, which was a test for someone like you, who loved to overthink, but you found it good practice. Becoming a mother would mean you had to change a lot of traits and habits you had grown used to over the past decade of adulthood. Overthinking was one of your major issues, and you knew for a fact such a problem would be unwelcome during pregnancy. 

So you tried your best to just go with the flow and get to know Jin at a leisurely pace. He was funny, you already knew that, but he was also extremely intelligent and hardworking. During one of your phone calls you pried and asked him how Alpaca Gaming Studios had come to be. He laughed and replied a mixture of all his savings, his parents’ savings and whatever loans he could get his hands on. But mostly it was down to sheer luck. 

That’s another thing you found out about him. He was incredibly humble. He didn’t feel like a rich person, if that made any sense at all. When you spoke to him you forgot he was a multi-millionaire. (Yuna had Googled his net worth as soon as you finally told her he was the CEO of AGS.) One of your (numerous) worries had been about how his wealth could potentially hinder everything. He was obviously used to a different way of life and could very well look down his nose at you. One night of sex wasn’t going to make a difference, but attempting to merge your lives together could be disastrous. 

Thankfully, that had not been the case – so far. 

He was amazingly down to earth but well-spoken. Not to mention extremely attentive. Although that might have just been because you were pregnant with his baby… Nevertheless, it was a surprise he wasn’t in a relationship. Married even. Had a family already! Although, when a man like him worked so tirelessly and then in his fleeting spare time scrolled Netflix for hours, there really was no room for love… 

You had thought about telling him that joke but subsequently chickened out because you didn’t want to bring up the topic of love and relationships after his staggering proposition – which you had not told Yuna about in fear of never hearing the end of it.

Thankfully, he hadn’t brought it up again. Actually, he was probably feeling mortified he ever had, regretting it something silly. You had acted so differently That Night, he was probably confused. Now faced with the Real You, he was definitely thanking his lucky stars you hadn’t taken him up on his offer. But regardless, he showed no aversions towards you as the days and weeks went on. Hopefully he had put your behaviour at Begin down to intoxication. Everyone got flirty and giggly while drunk. And it wasn’t so much of a lie, because you would have never approached him if it hadn’t been for the Tequila. 

Then again, it was all in the past so what did it matter? 

That was another one of your unfavourable traits. Thinking of the past, living in the past. 

You needed to let it go. 

So soon enough That Night became a distant memory and gradually you only viewed it as that night you got pregnant… 

Now estimated at 9 weeks pregnant your first prenatal appointment was nearing. 

You’d gotten a referral from your doctor to see an OB, and while you had the option to wait a couple more weeks, you and Seokjin had decided the sooner the better. It had been a stressful few days reading into your health insurance and trying to find out what was and wasn’t covered in your plan, but Yuna had helped profusely – as a lawyer she was an expert at combing through the fine print. It seemed that if your pregnancy was complication-free (fingers crossed) the cost would be manageable. Despite Jin insisting he wanted to pay for everything, you had come to an arrangement to split everything 50/50. Yuna was baffled by your reluctance to let him throw money at you. 

“I don’t want him to pay for everything, Yuna. Glob is my baby too,” you’d told her, your chin jutted out in defiance. 

It might have been a different story if you were truly struggling, but you had savings, and what better time to start using them when you were about to become a mother. You didn’t need Seokjin’s money and felt uncomfortable with the idea of him taking full responsibility like that. Maybe it was an ego thing, but you didn’t care. You had made up your mind, and after an amicable discussion, Seokjin understood where you were coming from. 

Yuna still hadn’t got it though. 

“You’re the one carrying Glob. It’s the least he can do. Especially after what he did.” 

And she still hadn’t quite forgiven him for leaving you at the hospital. 

The thought that Seokjin was attempting to apologise through money had crossed your mind already, but you hadn’t taken offence by it. It was obvious he still felt guilty for what he had done and wanted to make it up to you. He had been nothing but sweet and kind these past few weeks, and that was more than enough. Actions spoke louder than any amount of money. 

“I don’t want to take all his money,” you’d repeated. If Seokjin had accepted it, she could too. 

“He wouldn’t even notice it’s gone!” 

“Can we just stop talking about this now please?” 

Despite coming to the realisation that Seokjin didn’t flaunt his wealth, you were still very much aware of the gap in your incomes – and lives. You’d rather think about it as little as possible, so Yuna bringing it up every chance she got was frustrating. You were happy with the agreement and that was all that mattered. 

Your appointment was for 10am Saturday morning and Seokjin picked you up with plenty of time to spare. He gave you a warm smile as you entered the car, and you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring how casually he was dressed as he entered the address of the doctor’s clinic into the car’s built in GPS. You’d met up with him a few times since the fast-food restaurant, but it was always during your lunch break, so you’d never seen him out of a suit. Today he was dressed in an oatmeal sweatshirt and blue jeans. The colour of his sweatshirt seemed to emphasise just how broad his back was, and you admired him silently, the scent of his sweet but woody cologne familiar because it was what he smelled like all the time. 

His hair was getting longer again, and it suited him, parted to the side and softly sweeping over his eyes. 

You made small talk on the journey, Yuna casually coming up in conversation. A few days before he had met her for the first time. She had been too impatient to wait any longer, in her words ‘needing to get a read of him ASAP.’ It had been awkward asking him, but he’d happily agreed – despite looking visibly daunted. You didn’t really blame him, but thankfully lunch had gone well, albeit with a shaky start because Jin was running late. He had passed the vibe check, or whatever she called it, and had her seal of approval. It was a miracle. 

You reassured him with those exact words (minus the part about the miracle) in the car and he laughed in relief. 

Arriving for your appointment you soon began to grow nervous as you sat, waiting to be called in. You’d done a good job at pushing it to the back of your mind but now it wasn’t possible anymore. The sterile smell of the clinic was making you feel queasy with nerves, no matter how welcoming it was furnished. You writhed your hands together in your lap, Seokjin picking up on your mood almost immediately. 

“You okay?” he murmured, slight concern etched on his face. 

You gave him a small smile, made to reassure. “Just a little nervous.” 

He matched it, silently telling you he was nervous too, yet he wanted to reassure you. “It’ll be all right.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed, nodding your head. “It’s stupid but…” You trailed off, feeling awkward. 

“But…?” he encouraged softly. 

The way he gently pressed you put you at ease. It was okay to show a little weakness sometimes. Sharing might even ease the worry you were feeling. 

“I have this…phobia of hospitals,” you chuckled self-consciously, “and I guess it’s spread to the doctor’s office now.” 

“You’re scared of hospitals?” Realisation dawned on him and his face fell. “Not only did I take you to one, I left you there.” 

You chuckled again, but this time it was easy. “Enough. You weren’t to know.” 

His attitude these past few weeks had more than shown you he was serious about this and the baby. He needed to let the guilt he was feeling go. You weren’t holding any grudges. 

“Just promise not to leave me in one again,” you joked, attempting to lighten the mood. “Next time if you’re planning on ditching me, ditch me somewhere nice like a flower garden or a fast-food restaurant.” 

You made him laugh, and a grin spread across your face. Before he could reply, the receptionist called your name. You were ready to be seen. Taking a deep breath to ready yourself, you stood up, Seokjin following close behind. 

Your OB introduced herself as Dr. Choi, asking you both to make yourselves comfortable before she started asking you about your pregnancy. The chair was comfy, but it still didn’t take away from the fact you were about to be poked and prodded. As if Seokjin could sense your discomfort, you felt his gaze on you. Turning your head his way, he smiled reassuringly. You smiled back, grateful he was here. 

“First time parents?” Dr. Choi asked, a friendly grin on her face. 

“Mm hm,” you nodded, somehow knowing what was coming next. 

“How long have you been together?” 

“Oh, we’re not.” You tried to make your voice sound as breezy as possible. You knew that it wasn’t a big deal, it happened all the time, and you also knew that you were lucky Seokjin wanted to be involved. Yet, you still felt awkward voicing it out loud. 

“We’re co-parenting,” Jin chimed in. 

“Oh,” she smiled. You watched her eyes travel over to him, her smile only growing bigger. You’d caught her eyeing him as soon as you walked inside, but now that she knew you weren’t together, she had obviously decided to be blatant about it. “That’s great,” she added. 

“Yeah,” Jin smiled – that friendly smile that was somehow both innocent and suggestive. He had given you that smile many times That Ni—wait, you weren’t supposed to ever think of it like that again. “We’re really excited.” 

His words were enough to distract your attention away from Dr. Flirty. He was excited about the baby? About Glob? You were understanding that correctly, right? You mean, you knew he’d come to terms with the shock news and was ready to be involved, but excited? ‘We’re really excited’ too, meaning the two of you. Excited hadn’t been the word you’d thought of these past few weeks to describe your feelings towards this pregnancy, but now that he’d put it into your head… and now that you’d seen the genuine way his eyes had lit up saying it, you might need to rethink. 

With a secret smile, you turned to your OB and listened as she began to ask questions you needed to give answers to. It didn’t even bother you that much when most of her attention seemed to be on Seokjin’s face. 

After she’d asked about conception dates and first trimester symptoms, it was time for the ultrasound. You’d already been informed it would have to be done transvaginal at this stage in your pregnancy, which you weren’t entirely looking forward to (who in their right mind would want a probe rooting around their vaginal canal?), but you’d been reassured it wouldn’t be painful, just mildly uncomfortable. Just so you didn’t have to strip off, you’d worn a loose fitted maxi skirt. Thankfully it was well into spring by now, because you had a feeling that’s all you were going to wear before long. (You were already struggling to do the top button of your pants up.) You avoided glancing at Seokjin while you took off your underwear and laid back on the examination table. Not that it was anything to be embarrassed about, you just didn’t know him well enough to be comfortable with him sitting next to you while you had your vagina practically out. He didn’t look fazed though, directing a question Dr. Choi’s way as she prepped everything. 

“Will we hear the heartbeat?” 

“Yes,” she smiled. “We’ll be picking up the heartbeat today. Excited?” 

You looked at one another, nodding and grinning. Now that the word had dug its way into your brain there was no getting rid. 

“Now,” – Dr. Choi’s voice grew slightly serious – “just because I must let you know beforehand. This scan will also inform us of any potential problems.” 

You didn’t like the sound of that, immediately tensing up. It didn’t help that she was now lubing up the sheathed probe. 

“For instance?” asked Seokjin, sounding concerned. 

“Nothing to worry about,” Dr. Choi assured, shaking her head and sending him her best dazzling smile. “I’m sure everything is fine. There’s been no issues so far, so the chances are everything is as it should be.” 

You nodded along and tried to relax. So far, your pregnancy had gone by practically unnoticeable. Unless that was an issue… 

She rolled her chair closer. “I’ll slowly insert the probe about two to three inches into your vagina.” This time, despite telling yourself not to, you glanced at Jin. His face was relaxed, listening with you, and you felt childish for being embarrassed.

What did it matter? He’d been inside you at one point, that’s why you were in this situation right now! 

“You’ll feel a slight pressure, similar to a Pap smear. Try not to tense.” 

You nodded, bracing yourself. Thankfully, it wasn’t that bad at all. 

“It might take a little while to find a clear picture,” she told you, and you waited patiently, the monitor turned towards her as she moved the probe around. 

You felt Seokjin fidget beside you, but because you were so nervous you couldn’t get your mouth open to calm him. 

Finally, after a few minutes – or maybe it wasn’t even that, it just felt like ages – Dr. Choi let out a celebratory exclaim. “There’s baby!” 

She turned the monitor your way and you let out a little gasp. There on the screen was your baby, who looked like somewhere in between a blob – glob – and a shrimp. “Oh,” you uttered, your heart feeling as though it was enlarging to twice its size. 

You turned to face Seokjin in disbelief, his expression mirroring yours. You felt his warm hand enclose around yours and squeeze and you smiled at one another, turning to the screen again. 

“There’s the head and body,” Dr. Choi pointed out. “The heartbeat flicker…” She began taking measurements, talking as she went. “At 9 weeks, baby is just under an inch long. Yup, perfect.” 

You held your breath as your eyes stayed glued to the screen, in awe. This little thing – this little baby – was growing inside of you. You could hear her talking about some kind of sacs and taking more measurements, but it was hard to pay attention. You just kept staring at your adorable tiny glob. 

“Now the heartbeat,” you heard her say, gaining your rapt attention again. 

The immediate thump thump thump that filled your ears had you gasping again. 

“Oh my God,” Seokjin chuckled in astonishment. Without thinking, you laced your fingers with his. 

“It’s a strong one,” Dr. Choi laughed. 

“Really? Oh, woah,” you exclaimed happily. 

“About 176.” 

“That’s good?” Seokjin asked. 

“Perfect.” 

.

.

After you were done, you felt so delighted you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Your entire body felt like it was vibrating. You didn’t even mind too much when Dr. Choi had to take your blood for various tests, or when she got you to pee into a cup to get it checked. You left with Glob’s predicted due date and two copies of the scan – one for you, and one for Seokjin. You couldn’t wait to show Yuna. 

On the way back to his car, Jin said casually: “She was great.” 

Unexplainable irritation prickled over you, spoiling your good mood for a moment. “Yeah, she was,” you agreed half-heartedly. 

“She did a great job putting us at ease and she was really—”

“Into you,” you said before you could stop yourself. 

“Huh?” 

You inwardly sighed, needing to commit now. “She was into you.” 

Surprisingly, he laughed, shaking his head. “No, she wasn’t.” 

He opened the car door for you and you climbed inside. 

“Seokjin, her face practically lit up when she found out we weren’t together.” 

“Come on,” he continued to laugh, acting as though you were teasing him. He got in next to you but didn’t start the vehicle. 

“I’m being serious. I refuse to believe you’re that oblivious.” 

“She was just doing her job.” 

You eyed him suspiciously, his face subtly flushed, and it was almost as if he was refusing to meet your gaze. Was he flustered? You couldn’t be sure because you’d never seen him like this before. Maybe your OB was just his type… 

You turned to look out of the window, unsure why you were so annoyed. Pregnancy hormones, had to be. “Making eyes at you is part of her job?” 

“Well, it’s not like I’m interested anyway,” he replied almost defensively. “I’m having a baby.” 

You stared at him, taken aback. Why would that stop him? It seemed ridiculous, but his face was deadly serious. If anything, he looked a little offended. 

“I’m having a baby,” you corrected. “You’re free to do whatever you want.” 

Not that you wanted to date anyone, pregnant or not… 

The noise he made in response was noncommittal, and then he completely changed the subject. 

“Do you want to have lunch together?” 

.

.

“The food here is really good,” you raved, feeling an enthusiasm over meat you never knew you had. 

After quickly getting over the initial shock of his invite and saying yes, Seokjin had asked where you wanted to go. Unsure, you’d let him choose, and so he’d taken you to a cosy-looking, family-run barbecue place. You hadn’t realised you were so hungry until you started tucking in. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never been before,” Jin replied, a warm smile on his face as he watched you eat. He was becoming no stranger to how you scarfed down food. Glob was making you ravenous. 

“Well, I really wasn’t much of a fan of meat until the pregnancy,” you admitted, draining the last of your water. 

He grinned. “Definitely a craving then.” 

“At least it’s a good craving!” You paused, and then started up again automatically. “Yuna was doing some deep googling the other night—”

“Deep googling?” he asked, brows pinching together in confusion. 

“It’s basically normal googling but she’s had three glasses of wine,” you explained, making him laugh. “But anyway, she found this woman who couldn’t stop eating sponges! Can you believe that?”

“Eating them?” Jin looked concerned. 

“Yes!” you laughed. “Wait, actually…maybe she wasn’t eating them, but she was definitely chewing on them.” You couldn’t remember. 

Seokjin chuckled, saying if he ever found you chewing on a dish sponge, he wouldn’t question it. You pulled a face in disgust, and he laughed harder, before suggesting something excitedly. “I know this place that does amazing steaks. We should go some time. The Wagyu there is out of this world.” 

Wagyu what? You knew nothing about beef other than it was often the priciest. There was no doubt in your mind that the prices of the restaurant in question would make your eyes water. 

“It sounds expensive,” you commented without thinking, watching his eyes widen. 

He stumbled over his words before conceding. “W-well—yeah… Yeah, it is…” 

You hadn’t meant for him to feel awkward about it. He had money – a lot of it, and that meant he was used to a different way of eating. He probably dined at those types of places all the time. Spent what you earned in a week on one meal. And that was whatever. You both needed to get used to the differences between you. You weren’t judging him, and you knew he wasn’t judging you. He wasn’t like that. 

You changed direction slightly, needing the awkwardness to dissipate. “How do you like your steak? Please don’t say medium-rare.” 

And of course, he did. When he started going on about steak tartare, you had to stop him in fear of being physically ill. So basically, you figured out, cooked meat = perfectly fine, but near raw or fully raw = no fricking way!!

You continued eating together until you were stuffed. 

“I think we’re finally full,” you sighed, patting a hand on your stomach and leaning back in your chair.

Seokjin chuckled softly, his eyes gazing down at your hand. “It feels so real now. I mean—” he shook his head. “It did anyway, but now… seeing Glob, hearing their heartbeat…” 

You smiled. It hadn’t taken him long to grow used to that silly nickname.  

“It’s exciting, but you know, like in a slightly terrifying way—like riding a rollercoaster,” you admitted. 

You had been over the moon seeing your baby and hearing the heartbeat, but now it was really dawning on you that there was a little person growing inside of you. A little person that depended on you. 

“Thrilling,” Jin agreed with a nod of his head. 

“Yeah, exactly.” 

“You like rollercoasters?” 

You grinned. “Of course.” 

“Me too.” You watched as his own grin spread across his face. “I kind of wanna see you on one now, but…it would be immoral of me to take a pregnant woman to a theme park.” 

That made you laugh. “I guess you’ll just have to be patient and wait until Glob is born.” 

“Deal,” he clapped his hands. “Baby’s first outing already planned.” 

Maybe you were getting ahead of yourselves, but you couldn’t find it in you to worry like you usually might have. Each day it felt as though you and Seokjin were growing more comfortable around one another. At first it had been awkward getting to know another person as an adult – especially considering the circumstances. You’d had the same friends for years, never feeling the urge to meet others because well, you didn’t need to. You liked to keep your circle small and close, and with age, that intention only seemed to fortify. However, it was actually quite fun getting to know someone new, learning things about them – and yourself. 

It was easy to relax around Seokjin. He had a warmth to him that made you feel as though you’d known him for years. The last person you’d felt that with had been Yoongi. Maybe that meant they were similar in ways, but that thought made you slightly uncomfortable. As though you were comparing the two. 

“Hey, so… have you told your parents yet?” you brought up, stopping your wayward thoughts in their tracks. 

You knew he had told his friends, but that was all. 

He glanced down. “No. I was going to wait until things had progressed a little further… Is that all right?”

“Sure,” you shrugged. “I haven’t told mine either. I was only wondering…” Despite your better judgment, you added: “They won’t mind, will they? Because, you know, we’re not together.”

Technically you weren’t talking about relationships, but it was near enough. 

Seokjin’s expression was unreadable, but he sounded casual enough as he replied. “I think my mom will, but it won’t be anything personal towards you.” You admired his honestly, zero hesitation. “It’ll be me she’s disappointed in—not that there is reason to be disappointed. She’ll just probably need some time to come around.” 

You nodded, understanding completely. 

“What about your mom?”

You felt your heart clench, not expecting his question. “Oh,” you smiled, pausing, something on the tip of your tongue, but you stopped yourself, ultimately deciding on a different direction. “It’s my stepmom that I’m dreading telling. I don’t think my dad will have many thoughts, but her… I don’t know.”

And it wasn’t as if she’d be disappointed. She wouldn’t – even if you told her the father was someone you hardly knew. 

Seokjin waited patiently, sensing you wanted to say more, and for some unknown reason, you felt comfortable enough to continue. Telling him things you had only ever told Yuna. 

“She’s been harping on at me for God knows how many years telling me I’m running out of time… She could possibly die from shock.” 

“How can you possibly be running out of time?” he frowned. 

You suddenly felt awkward, your face heating up as you tried to explain, which only turned into babbling. “Isn’t it like an older generation thing? God forbid us women don’t pop out a kid by the time we’ve hit 25. I’m thirty next year and she loves reminding me I’m about to hit my sell by date.” 

You laughed uneasily because Seokjin was still frowning. 

“Do you get on with her all right?” 

You immediately felt guilty. Your stepmom was a lovely woman, albeit a little over the top at times, but she meant well, and she made your father happy. You hadn’t meant to villainise her. 

“Yes, I do.” You sounded a lot more abrupt than you’d wanted to. 

“I’m sorry.” Jin seemed embarrassed. “That was rude of me. I was just wondering because…” He hesitated. “You should never say those kinds of things to someone you care about.” 

You were silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. He was probably right. Actually, he was right, but it wasn’t as black and white as that. “She just doesn’t realise. I mean, it never bothered me. I didn’t even want kids so…” 

“You didn’t?” Watching Seokjin’s face fall, you realised what you’d said. 

“Shit. Okay, that came out wrong,” you rushed, hands gesturing wildly. “I just didn’t think they were for me. Like if it was going to happen, it would have happened already.” 

Or maybe in hindsight, that thought process had been a result of your stepmother’s words… 

“I understand,” he shocked you by saying. He visibly relaxed. “I agree actually. I… Being busy, I never really had time for a serious relationship. What about you?”

Oh God, the dreaded word. But you trusted him enough to know he didn’t have an ulterior motive. You were just getting to know one another. It surprised you that he’d never been in a serious relationship, but then again, with how demanding his job was, it made sense. Still, it was a sad reality. (You thought, as a perpetually single person…) 

“I had one serious relationship a few years back,” you heard yourself respond. “I date, sometimes, but well, it doesn’t go much further than that.” 

“Me too,” he agreed almost sombrely. 

Before you could think to say anything in return, he smiled at you. His cheeks rounded, the skin looking impossibly soft. 

“Just because this isn’t how we imagined it doesn’t mean our situation is incorrect. I don’t care what anyone else thinks.” 

“I know,” you smiled back, your chest feeling warm. “Despite the possibilities, this is working out better than I ever could’ve imagined,” you admitted. 

His smile broadened, achingly beautiful. No wonder he had women dropping at his feet – and yes, you were still thinking about your OB. 

“That makes me happy – knowing that you’re happy.” 

It was such a sincere admission, you felt mildly choked up. Your voice was thick with emotion when you replied. “All I want is our baby to be happy. My parents…” You hesitated, voice shaking. “They divorced when I was young, and I never really had the family unit everyone else around me seemed to have” 

You knew that his parents had been happily married for nearly forty years. He had told you that already. Your parents had never been right for one another. You were six when they divorced and even though you regularly saw your father, as soon as he remarried and had other children you felt as though you didn’t fit into his life anymore. It was nothing he had done, but while he was busy with his new family, you concentrated on your mother. It had always been you and her, her attitude towards love and relationships similar to yours now. You enjoyed it, just the two of you, but when you saw your father and stepmother with your half-siblings, unexplainable jealously welled up inside of you. 

You never wanted your child to feel like that and you would do your best to prevent it – to not let history repeat itself. 

Seokjin’s gaze was soft and serious as he stared across at you, and then he leaned in close, taking your hand in his. It felt just like it had at the doctor’s office. Warm and safe. 

“Our baby will definitely be happy, I promise. So don’t worry about that,” he told you quietly. 

Tears pricked at your eyes as you smiled thankfully. It wasn’t like you to get so emotional, usually having control over yourself. Your emotions had been all over the place since you’d found out about Glob. 

Just as you were about to say something, you heard a familiar voice call your name. A familiar voice you found unpleasant. 

You yanked your hand from under Jin’s quickly and jerked your head up. Sera was prancing towards you, Yoongi following closely behind. Your heart started drumming. For God’s sake. 

“What a lovely surprise!” she exclaimed. “Isn’t it, Yoongi?” 

Her sickly-sweet voice annoyed you more than usual, and you tried not to glower at her. 

“Yeah, it is,” Yoongi smiled. Looking down at you, then over at Seokjin. 

“I hope we haven’t interrupted a date.” Sera’s attention was also on Seokjin now, and your hands started to tremble with irritation. You hid them under the table. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. How shameless could one person be?! She was stood right next to her boyfriend! When Seokjin smiled at her you bit the inside of your cheek. 

“N-no, no. Of course you haven’t.” You tried you best to keep your temper out of your voice and took a breath. You were going to have to introduce them. There was no getting away from it. “This is my friend, Seokjin.” 

“Nice to meet you, Seokjin,” she smiled. She looked over at you, but when she realised you weren’t going to continue, she took it upon herself. “I’m Sera, ____’s co-worker, and this is Yoongi, another co-worker.” She turned to Yoongi and slid her arm around his front, cuddling into him. “We’re together.” 

Yoongi wrapped his arm around her shoulders as you watched, but it didn’t unsettle you as much as usual. You’d been so preoccupied these past few weeks he, nor Sera, had hardly crossed your mind or caught your attention. You were annoyed right now though, because they’d interrupted you. They’d interrupted the part of your life that was yours and only yours. 

“Oh really? Nice to meet you guys.” 

Seokjin sounded nothing but convivial, and you felt put out. Were men clueless to Sera’s behaviour? Or did they like it? You knew nothing anymore. Or maybe you were just a jealous bitch who imagined what she wanted to believe…

“Yeah, nice to meet you,” Yoongi replied, but he sounded slightly indifferent. He’d obviously caught the way his girlfriend was staring at another man. 

Sera smirked your way, voice seemingly innocent. “I didn’t know you had so many guy friends, ____.” 

Nope. You weren’t imagining anything. 

Trying to stay calm, you smiled. “If so many means three, then yeah, I guess I do. Well—” You glanced at Yoongi and then back at her slyly. “Four if I include Yoongi.” You watched with great pleasure as her face flushed in anger. “Anyway, we were just about to leave. Jin?”

“Oh…yeah.” He looked momentarily confused but stood up anyway. You were aware you were acting strange, but hopefully he wouldn’t bring it up. Maybe he’d assume you were jittery because of the whole secret pregnancy thing. Which you were. 

As you went to stand up, your foot hit your purse under the table. You picked it up and slid past Sera, not bothering to look at her. 

“It was nice to meet you both,” smiled Seokjin. 

“Same. Have a lovely rest of your day.” Sera’s voice grated your ears.

As you moved past Yoongi, you caught his eyes. “I’ll see you Monday, ____,” he murmured. 

“Sure. Bye.”

You just wanted to get out of here ASAP. As you and Jin made your way to the front desk to pay, you heard Sera talking to Yoongi. “Yoongs, let’s use their table. But get someone to come clean it first.” As you turned, you caught her wrinkling her nose. 

Irritation bubbled inside your chest. It had been years since you’d felt mad enough to hit someone, but Sera was testing your patience. 

“It must be nice to work somewhere small. I imagine you’re all close,” Seokjin commented on your way out. 

“Quite close, yeah,” you forced yourself to say. Round of applause for him, he was doing a great job at not pointing out your weird behaviour. 

“Are they both graphic designers too?”

“Yoongi is. And our manager. But Sera is just the receptionist.” 

“Cool.” He paused, and you hoped he’d realised you didn’t want to continue this conversation. But then, he added for a joke: “I guess there’s no rules on employee relationships, then?” 

“Apparently not,” you replied dryly, and then chided yourself. Why were you letting her get to you? She shouldn’t ruin an otherwise great day. 

You glanced over at Seokjin and smiled. “Namjoon’s a pretty laidback boss.” 

“Namjoon is your friend, right?” 

You nodded, happy he’d remembered you telling him once before. He always listened with earnest, as if he wanted to know – and remember – every little thing about you. 

Placing a hand on your stomach, Seokjin’s eyes following, you chuckled. “Although, I can’t wait to see his reaction when I tell him the news.” 

A few more weeks, you told yourself, and then you’d let everyone know. 

You couldn’t keep it a secret forever. 

.

.

You’d been back home a few hours when you went inside your purse for the baby scan. Yuna was coming over tomorrow morning, so you wanted to get it ready, but really it was an excuse just to look at Glob again. Only, the picture wasn’t there. Confused, you tried to remember what you’d done with it. You’d been a little distracted leaving Dr. Choi’s office, so your memory was a little blurry. You grabbed your phone instead and texted Seokjin. 

Did I accidentally give you both copies of the scan? I can’t find mine 

He texted back almost straight away. 

Seokjin 5.45pm I’ll go check. Two seconds 

Seokjin 5.49pm No, just the one. I checked my car too and it’s not there Maybe you left it inside Dr. Choi’s office?

Maybe. 

It was possible. You genuinely couldn’t remember. 

Seokjin 5:50pm Do you want mine? I can drop it off tomorrow morning  Or tonight. I don’t mind 

No, don’t put yourself out. Thanks though 

His kindness once again warmed you. He lived a twenty-minute drive away. 

Seokjin 5:52pm I’ll call the office on Monday morning and request another copy 

Your first instinct was to tell him there was no need and you’d do it yourself, but then you realised it was nice having people do things for you sometimes. You’d been alone for so long you were just used to looking after yourself, but there was no harm in relaxing a little. You were pregnant after all, and Jin was more than happy to help out. 

Unless… 

No, you were acting ridiculous today. For a moment, you thought maybe he wanted to call up for a chance to chat to Dr. Choi. But you were almost certain that wasn’t the case. He’d been oblivious to her behaviour until you’d pointed it out and even then, he’d denied it. However, you had told him he was free to do what he wanted… and he had seemed pretty flustered at the news… No. It was unprofessional for an OB to start dating the father of their patient’s baby. There had to be rules against it, surely? 

Anyways, you didn’t own him. He was a single man, and he was free to date whoever he wanted, an obstetrician

or someone else. (But you were still sure the OB thing wasn’t allowed.) All this commotion was just your hormones. They said in the first trimester a person’s emotions were all over the place, and that was the truth. You’d experienced a whole heap of different ones today. 

Realising you hadn’t messaged Seokjin back yet, you quickly did so. 

Thank you Seokjin :)

Seokjin 5:55pm 🤗🤗 Have a peaceful night. Talk to you tomorrow! 

A grown man using emojis shouldn’t have any type of effect on you – in fact, it should make you want to laugh at him unkindly, but instead you were only left endeared. You smiled to yourself and thought about how nice today had been (minus the Sera and Yoongi incident) and how you’d been a little disappointed it had ended so soon. 

When would you see him next? 

Maybe you could have lunch together on Monday… 

Written 2022. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2022

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #fic:9mtfil #floralseokjin:writings

[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.”

#stray kids smut #bang chan smut #stray kids oneshot #bang chan imagines #bang chan oneshot #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids dark hours #bang chan dark hours #bang chan hard hours #stray kids hard hours

[team-iron-wannabe-man]

An Honest Man

Title: An Honest Man

Pairing: 40’s!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2164

Summary: After eavesdropping on a conversation between you and Peggy, Bucky runs from his real feelings, breaking your heart in the process.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, teensy implication of sexual exploits (like one sentence), and an Asshole.

A/N: I don’t know where this came from, it just kind of… popped into my head! Literally wrote this in less than an hour, which is a feat in my books! It starts off angsty, and in the middle it’s also angsty, but the ending is so full of fluff, that you won’t be disappointed… at least I hope… lol. Happy Reading!

Disclaimer: Gif Not Mine.

Steve finally managed to find his best friend in the darkest corner of a bar they didn’t usually frequent. Bucky didn’t look so hot. His hair was a mess, shirt untucked, and obviously intoxicated. Steve sighed, making his way over to the table.

“Bucky… I’ve been looking all over for you,” Steve stated.

“Well, congratulations! You found me,” Bucky chuckled, sarcasm etched in every word he’d just spoke.

“I don’t get it,” Steve started, taking the empty seat besides him, “what happened? I thought you and Y/N were in a good place.”

“That’s the thing, Stevie. We were in a good place. I thought we were doing great, that we were on the same page, and then I overhear her and Peggy talking about marriage! Marriage, Stevie!” Bucky exclaimed exasperated. “Can you imagine? Me? Married? I’m not the marrying type. Y/N new that.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you broke up with her because you’re scared?” Steve deadpanned. “And yeah… I can see you settling down and getting married. God knows, you deserve it. We all do.”

Bucky groaned, shaking his head. “No! I’m not scared! I’m just not the type to be tied down. The world is just filled with so many good-looking dames, I can’t commit to just one. That’s just not my style.”

“Bullshit. Bucky, I’ve seen you two together. It’s been almost a year and you’ve never looked at another woman since. Face it Buck, you’ve finally met the one woman that can, and has, made an honest man out of you. Don’t mess this up. She’s a wreck without you. It’s been two weeks, and she hasn’t been eating, and by the looks of it, you’re not doing too hot either. Be honest with yourself Bucky. You’re in love with her and it scares you. And you know what? It’s okay.”

Bucky slammed his drink on the table, belligerent fire blazing in his eyes as he stood. “What would you know, Steve? You’ve been pining over Peggy for years and I don’t see you doing anything about it! Just back off, would ya? And mind your own business!”

With that said, Bucky stormed out of the bar. Steve sighed in defeat, not expecting his friend to blow up the way that he did, but then again, he should have expected it. An upset, intoxicated, Bucky has always been unpredictable.

You were sitting in your apartment in the dark, ignoring the incessant ringing of your phone hanging in the kitchen. You already knew who it was… Peggy or Steve, never the one person you hoped it would be.

Sniffling, you looked up to meet a photo Steve had taken of you and Bucky. You were wrapped up in his arms with wide smiles on both of your faces. You were sure that he was happy. There was no doubt in your mind that you were happy, but had you been blind, high off your own happiness to notice the misery Bucky was feeling? Was it your selfishness that lead him to end things with you? Or maybe he simply never loved you… Staring at his smiling face in the photo, newfound tears cascaded down your already tear-stained cheeks.

A month. It had been a month, and despite the urge to breakdown and cry yourself to sleep, you pushed on. You were better than this. You were determined to move on and forget him. You owed it to yourself to get back on your feet and get back in the game, despite Peggy and Steve constantly telling you to talk to Bucky. He was the one that left you. If he wanted a semblance of a relationship with you, friends, or just an acquaintance, then he’d have to approach you. Begging was not your style… other than in the bedroom.

You entered the busy bar, searching around to find your date, Gilmore Hodge. It didn’t take long for you to spot the man. He was sitting at the bar, laughing with the bartender, a drink in his hand. Taking a deep breath, you walked over to him, giving a soft and forced hello. Out of the blue, he had stopped you at the supermarket and asked you on a date. You figured this was your opportunity to move passed James B. Barnes.

“Hey there, Sweetheart. I almost thought you weren’t going to show. You sure do clean up nicely,” he complimented, eyes shamelessly roaming your figure up and down.

“Thank you. You’re look handsome as well,” you returned the formalities, however not with as much genuinity behind it.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked, smirking down at you, although his eyes weren’t on yours, fixated on other parts of you.

“Maybe later. Can I just get a coke on the rocks?” you politely asked the bartender.

“Sure thing, Sugar.”

As the night went on, Gil became a little more hands on, his callused hands holding your smooth ones, brazen hands resting dangerously low on your hips. In attempt to cope with the progression, you had yourself a few alcoholic beverages, not a smart decision on your part. Your tolerance for liquor was never the best, and by the time Gil had asked you to dance, you were already stumbling on your feet, the alcohol taking over.

Steve walked in, Peggy on his arm, and Bucky a few paces behind. Peggy spotted you almost immediately, nudging Steve in the ribs and pointing towards your direction and that jerk, Hodge. “What the hell is she doing here with him?” Steve hissed. “Did she mention anything about a date to you?”

“No! I didn’t even know she was considering going on any dates,” Peggy confessed.

“Maybe we should leave?” He suggested, whispering in Peggy’s ear.

“I think so, before Bucky sees,” she agreed. Steve nodded, turning to his pal, but it was too late. Bucky had a hard look on his face, eyes intense and focused on your fumbling body in the arms of another man.

“Hey Buck, why don’t we go to another—”

Before Steve could finish, Bucky walked off to the bar, ordering a shot of the strongest whiskey they had. He downed the first shot, before signaling for another one. Steve and Peggy sat in the empty bar stools next to him, as he leaned back against the bar counter, his elbows supporting him, and a nearly empty glass in his hand, while he never once took his eyes off of you.

To your surprise, you found yourself actually having fun, the alcohol loosening you up immensely, until Gil became braver in his advances, his hands falling to your butt, lips attaching themselves to your neck. “Stop,” you breathed out, sobriety finding you quickly, your hands on his chest, trying to push him off of you.

“Oh c’mon, Sweetheart. We’re just starting to have some fun,” he mumbled against your skin, groping the soft globes of your behind.

“N-no—” you grunted, wrapping your hands on his wrists, attempting to get his hands off of you, and much to your delight, achieved it. “I’m going home,” you spat, but when you turned to walk away, his hand found yours again, yanking you back into his hold.

“Oh, c’mon baby. Don’t go, I’ll behave, I promise,” he snickered, arms wrapping around your waist and lips crashing onto yours.

You placed your hands on his chest, trying to push him off, but only managing to withdraw your lips from his. “No!” you cried, hitting his chest.

“Now, I know you don’t mean that,” Gil smirked, leaning in and finding the warm skin on your neck.

Struggling to get out of his grasps, you suddenly felt your body falling to the ground as Gil was violently pulled away from you. In the middle of the dance floor, rousing a crowd right before you, Bucky was on top of his fellow soldier, straddling his hips and throwing punches one after the other.

“B-Bucky!” You shouted, fear enveloping you.

Peggy was soon at your side, holding you in comfort, while Steve tried to pry Bucky off of your terrible date.

“Bucky, stop!” Steve shouted.

“You sleaze bag! When a lady tells you to stop, you stop!” Bucky snapped, fist connected to Gil’s jaw.

“Bucky!” Steve finally got Bucky off of Gil.

“What the hell, Barnes?!” Gil shouted, spitting blood out of his mouth.

“Hands off my girl!”

“Your girl?” Gil scoffed, standing up to meet Bucky’s glare. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but she’s not your girl any more. Word has it that you kicked her to the curb, and like people say, ‘another man’s trash is another man’s treasure.’ She’s mine now, Buck.”

Rage overcoming him, Bucky flew his head forward, connecting with Gil’s nose, a sickening cracking noise echoing through the bustling room. Gil stumbled back, holding his nose as blood sputtered over his hand and face.

“Ah!” Gil howled, “you broke my noise you piece of shit!” Quickly, Gil retreated to the restrooms, a few of his friends in the bar following close behind.

Once Gil was out of sight, Bucky was instantly crouched down in front of you, cupping your cheeks to see if you were hurt. “Are you okay?” Bucky questioned, worry etched in his baby blue eyes.

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you nodded your head, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burring your face in his neck, allowing his warmth and scent to sooth your racing heart.

“Shh,” he cooed, “I got you.”

Bucky turned to look at Peggy and Steve. “Take her home,” Peggy instructed Bucky, who nodded in confirmation.

He scooped you into his arms bridal style, the crowd clearing his path. When he stepped outside, he finally set you down on your feet, wanting to better inspect you under the street light, to make sure that you were really alright.

“I’m fine,” you swatted his hands off of you. “I can make it home from here.”

“Like hell am I going to let you walk home alone. Not after what happened.”

“Why the hell do you care?” You barked, startling Bucky a bit. “You broke up with me. You left me. You’re the one that didn’t want to be with me…” your voice trailed.

“I’m sorry. I… I just—”

“Save your excuses for someone else. I waited two months for you, but you didn’t come. So I’m trying to move on. I suggest you do the same.”

“I can’t,” he admitted.

“Well you’re gonna have to. I don’t love you anymore,” you stated firmly, the lie leaving a bitter taste on your tongue.

“Liar,” Bucky whispered, taking a step closer.

“S-stop!” You stuttered, eyes locked on his. He always had that effect on you. The man knew all of your weaknesses.

“Tell me you don’t love me again, and I’ll stop.” His breath fanned against your lips, his thumb and index finger holding your chin, making sure you didn’t loose eye contact.

Your lips opened, eyes dipping down to his lips as you gulped. “I…” you started, “I—” you took in a shaky breath. “I—” your words were lost. You couldn’t say it, and Bucky took that as his cue, warm chapped lips meeting your smooth soft ones.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky sighed as he broke the kiss, his lips tingling. “Steve was right…”

“About what?” You asked, finally slipping your eyes open.

“I was scared.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m crazy about you. Because I finally found a woman that could make an honest man out of me. Because I found the one woman that holds my heart. Because I’ve actually fallen in love with you.”

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears at his confession. The world around you seemingly disappearing until it was only Bucky standing in front of you, looking so vulnerable. As fresh tears pooled in your eyes, you leaped into his arms, lips crashing against his in a passionate kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist, hoisting you off the ground, and holding you flush against him. You on the other hand, raked your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly in order to get a better taste of his mouth, tongues dancing together in attempt to get reacquainted.

When you pulled away for air, you were both panting heavily. “Take me home, Buck,” you puffed.

“Only if you agree to marry me,” he blurted, his heart taking over.

You sagged in his arms, feet still of the ground, as your jaw dropped. “W-what did you say?” you asked, unsure if you had heard him correctly.

A smile graced his face, showcasing his perfect pearly whites. “I don’t have a ring or anything, but I can’t wait. Y/N Y/L/N, marry me?”

Laughing out loud, your head lulling backwards, your arms settled around Bucky’s neck. When you brought your head back up, your deep orbs meeting his shinning blue crystals, you grinned. “I thought you’d never ask,” you replied, smashing your lips against his once again.

-- 

tags: @pinknerdpanda

A/N: What do you think of that fluffy ending?! I’d love to know what you thought! Also, please reblog and share with your friends! My blog is still pretty new and I’d love meet more Bucky Lovers :)

Say Something Nice Here!

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky x Reader #1940's Bucky Barnes x Reader #1940's Bucky x Reader #40s!Bucky x Reader #40's!Bucky Barnes x Reader #bucky barnes #reader insert #bucky fanfic #bucky fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfi #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #marvel mcu #marvel fan fiction #an honest man #team-iron-wannabe-man

[smellycinnamonthundahfudge]

Home for the Holidays

my suuuuppeerrrr late @spideychellesecretsanta gift for @spiders-n aaacckkkkkk ya deserved a much better secret santa than me hahahuhu. belated merry christmas and i hope you find something from this fic eeekkk

btw i suggest listening to  Christmas Without You by OneRepublic for maximum impact hahaha

I’ll leave the entire fic under the cut so that it’s a true secret surprise gift like it’s wrapped up n sht so u dont know what ur getting hahaha

It was the first year of Peter and MJ’s relationship, their first holiday as a couple, and they were spending it thousands of miles away from each other.

It'd been so long since they were last together; actually see each other face to face and feel the other’s presence, just hang out comfortably knowing the other was there. Months of no physical contact or talking to each other in person and there just seemed to be no end in sight. MJ always was a realistic pessimist, but her current holiday blues loneliness had her leaning more towards her pessimistic side.

They were still together in other ways, of course; facetime and calls, there was even a hologram there at one point, the time MJ went to Stark Industries. But they mostly just texted each other every day, even if it was just funny memes or stickers or gifs, just to let the other know they were there. No matter what shape or form it took, they were still there for each other; that much they knew.

But it was the holidays… and like the cliche goes, those were always rough.

MJ didn't necessarily feel that way before. The free time allowed her to read all she wanted with nothing getting in her way. No school, no requirements or responsibilities, just her, her book collection, and the almost fort-like structure that had morphed from the pillows and blankets in her bed’s staycation mode. Paradise.

But then she got to know a certain spider dork. And then she got to be in a relationship with said dork and then life said screw them and decided they were to be separated for an uncertain amount of time. It didn’t help that Christmas cheer and joy and spirit and family and togetherness was literally all around MJ just constantly reminding her how she could have and should be having all that action right now and yet wasn’t.

So yeah, MJ was now just like the majority of the sad lonely sacks during the holidays. Of all the ways she could have been a part of the norm, this one had to be the worst, she thought.

She thought about getting up from her warmed up (from her body heat for lying there so long) spot but then she psyched herself out of it and just remained there, burying her head face first on her pillow.

"This holiday sucks," she grumbly said to no one muffled by the pillow on her face.

It was then that she decided she couldn’t hold back any longer. She was trying so hard not to bum Peter out with their distance (it's been tough on him enough, feeling guilty that his 2nd life was the reason all of this was happening anyways) but goddamn it she missed the guy. She was just going to tell the truth, even if it hurt.

MJ finally got up from her spot and grabbed her phone from whatever blanket it inevitably found itself buried amidst in. She found herself fumbling with her phone's keyboard just having a staring contest with Peter's dumb cute profile pic until she finally decided on what she was going to say, settling on a quick brief concise "i miss you. wished you were here" and pressing send before she could talk herself out of doing it.

MJ then immediately switched off her phone and decided to take a long awaiting shower to buy herself time before having to face Peter’s reply.

She turned on the shower, hoping that it would wash away the nerves she was feeling right now and remarked once again, with a sigh, "This holiday sucks," and proceeded to keep busy with cleaning herself and keep her mind off her holiday loneliness blues (and the certain spider dork who was causing them).

MJ was eventually as clean as she could possibly be and once she got out the bathroom and grabbed her phone, she saw that in casual Peter Parker texting fashion, Peter remarked MJ’s exact same sentiments just more intensely and using a hell of a lot more exclamation points and gifs.

"I'VE BEEN MISSING YOU SO MUCH TOO!!!" he replied alongside a sad panda gif and a bear hug gif.

MJ decided to take a walk after her shower and seeing Peter's reply. It did manage to make her smile just from how Peter his reply was, but it ultimately just made her miss the dork even more so, left her thinking how she could have been seeing that same dorky excited energy in person instead.

MJ left the house in the hopes that something outside would keep her mind occupied and so far, it wasn't. She didn't even have a particular destination in mind, she just kept walking and walking but somehow she found herself a street away from Delmar's. She scoffed and let out an exasperated sigh, looking up at the sky, and said "Of course."

Since she was already there and it was getting chilly, she thought she might as well buy something to keep her stomach warm.

She entered the store and saw a Middle Eastern man manning the cashier but reading a newspaper. Slim pickings it seemed; looked like he was the only other person in the store. Then again, it was Christmas Eve. Most people were probably with their families by now. “This holiday sucks,” MJ tiredly repeated, it beginning to be her holiday mantra.

MJ looked around the store for something hot for her stomach to no avail so she headed to the cashier. “Any chance the best sandwich place in Queens makes a decent cup of hot chocolate? Or coffee?”

“Who you kidding?” asked the man then turning around to turn on the coffee maker.

“Thanks” MJ replied with a quick smile and nod. She then noticed a cat on the other counter and fondly remembered Peter talking about said cat to her.

“Hey Murph,” MJ said as she pet the currently sleeping curled up furry feline.

“Oh, you know Murph?” the man asked, handing MJ her cup of coffee. “3 dollars.”

“Yeah, I’m a friend of Peter Parker. He loves this place,” MJ answered, paying for her coffee as well.

Mr. Delmar smiles, “Aahh you must be MJ then. Peter talked about you too. Paris, ear phone splitter, glass flower necklace, kid couldn’t shut up bout his Plan.”

MJ snickers and shakes her head, “Yup sounds just like him.” She sighs and then her demeanor saddens which Mr. Delmar notices.

“How is he by the way? I haven’t seen him around here for months and Spider-man isn’t showing up on the news anymore.”

“He’s good, mostly restless cause he’s just been laying low. But yeah actually, I haven’t seen him in person for months either.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine, at least he’s safer that way. And it’s just until he’s not a target anymore, so-”

“And how long do you think that will be?”

“We don’t know…” MJ replies, looking away.

“Oh,” was all Mr. Delmar could reply, a sad silence ensuing after he does.

MJ fakes a happier tone and bids her goodbye “Well, thanks for the coffee, Mr. Delmar. Have a merry Christmas,” she says managing to pull a tired smile on her face before heading to the door.

“Hey,” Mr. Delmar calls out to MJ stopping her in her tracks. “He’s a good kid; saved me and this little guy here from a fire. People are going to see that.”

MJ looks down then looks back to Mr. Delmar and replies “I hope so. Thanks again, Mr. Delmar, Merry Christmas to you and your family.” Then MJ waves goodbye and leaves the store.

As soon as MJ left the store, she immediately notices how the outside’s changed. It’s snowing.

She looks up at the sky and even thinks to herself how beautiful it all was. But she just felt sad and cold and alone.

She sighs and realizes it was probably time to come home before she freezes to death, wrapping herself tighter and taking a big gulp from her coffee.

She starts walking and with every step, she feels herself start to transition from being sad to feeling pissed.

She’s pissed she’s walking home alone at Christmas eve, she’s pissed she’s freezing, she’s pissed Peter wasn’t here with her, and right now she’s pissed that she can’t even enjoy all this beautiful looking snow and all she could focus on was the fact it was just making it harder for her to go home and not to mention, it was starting to soak her shoes.

She sees a pile of snow that must have been shoveled there and decided to let out some steam. She heads to the pile and starts kicking and stomping.

“This. Is. The Worst. Holiday. EVER!!” she frustratingly says kicking and stomping at the pile when a guy dressed all in black with a mask approaches MJ.

“Excuse me, miss?” the guys asks with a thick British accent, while MJ was mid-stomp, making her turn around, still infuriated, shout “WHAT?!” at him and aggressively step on his foot.

“OW! Oh my god why didn’t I see that coming,” the guy now lost his accent and was now balancing himself on one foot while massaging the one MJ step on.

“Peter?!?” MJ had her jaw dropped and her eyebrows knotted.

“Oh shit-” Peter said, then correcting himself “I mean-” Peter coughs. “I don’t know who Peter is, Miss, I’m the British superhero Night Monkey on a covert mission here in New York, yeah? You must have mistaken me for someone else,” Peter says with his thick British accent yet again.

Of all the ways Peter and MJ could have met after months of zero in person contact, this had to have been the worst timing and dumbest of them all. MJ let out a big brash outspoken laugh. This was so freaking ridiculous. Peter was so ridiculous. MJ missed him so much.

MJ was still laughing and Peter couldn’t help but be a teensy bit concerned, “Miss, are you alright?”

MJ finally stops cackling and sighs, deciding to play along with Peter’s antics. “Yes, I’m fine, Night Monkey,” emphasizing Peter’s other superhero name, only as to point out how ridiculous this whole thing was.

“I was just remembering my stupid boyfriend,” MJ explained, shrugging off his question all nonchalantly, playing along with this whole charade.

Peter perks up and proceeds to immediately banter with his girlfriend who he hasn’t seen for months. “Oooohhh, you have a boyfriend, Miss? I bet you must miss him a lot, don’t you?” Peter playfully asks, crossing his arms, smiling underneath his mask, a confident swagger in his stance because he knows he’s gonna hear MJ make fun of him in person again.

But, MJ sighs. She was staring at who she was pretty sure was the love of her life and looking at them from the outside, a long-awaited reunion in the snow at Christmas Eve in New York, even if said love of her life was currently faking a British accent and wearing an all black head to toe superhero costume (she couldn’t even see his face). MJ swears she’s probably never seen anything as beautiful in her life.

So MJ doesn’t make fun of Peter, she just can’t. She answers his question honestly.

“You have no idea,” MJ says then almost tackles Peter with the tightest hug she’s probably ever given.

Peter gets whiplash that MJ didn’t make fun of him and from how tight she was hugging him right now. “Whoa hey, are you sure you’re okay?” Peter asks, not even bothering to put on the accent anymore and was just genuinely concerned, hugging MJ back and caressing her back.

MJ laughs again, “I should be asking you that. Sorry I stepped on your foot.”

Peter chuckles too, “It’s fine; been through worse.”

MJ sighs and admits “I’ve really missed you, Peter. Like, more than I thought was possible.”

She hugs Peter tighter and in the freezing conditions where they were, she felt like she could melt.

Peter looks around them for cameras or any other people and sees none so he decides to remove his mask and so he could just feel her heat and presence on his skin.

“I’ve missed you so much too.”

Peter breaks away from the hug so he can finally actually see MJ with his own eyes. “Sorry I don’t have a gift. I just wasn’t able to buy anything, fugitive and all.”

MJ shakes her head “It’s fine. I didn’t get you anything either,” MJ admits which Peter thinks isn’t actually that big a deal but he wants to make fun of it so he shows a faux exaggerated shock in his expression and MJ laughs.

“I didn’t know you were coming! And I didn’t know where you were, so why would I buy a gift if I couldn’t even get it to you?” MJ defends herself and Peter just laughs.

“Yeah yeah okay, MJ, whatever you say,” Peter mocks and MJ laughs which just makes Peter laugh along with her too.

Once they actually stop giggling like idiots, MJ speaks “Some couple are we, huh? This is turning out to be a really great first Christmas as a couple.”

Peter chuckles and shakes his head in agreement “Yeah… Oh wait MJ, hey do you see that?”

“See what?” MJ looks at the direction Peter’s pointing and sees him pointing in the direction of some trees near them.

“Isn’t that like a mistletoe tree?” Peter asks and MJ almost snorts at the boy’s subtlety.

“I’m not sure mistletoes have trees, Peter.”

“Oh, well, I think we should kiss just to be sure. You know?”

“Right, right wouldn’t want to get arrested by Christmas police.”

“Wouldn’t that be Santa’s elves?”

“Just kiss me already, Peter.”

“Right, yeah okay.”

But as Peter leans in to kiss her, MJ, biting her lip just lastly says “Hey Peter.”

“Yeah?” Peter stops his leaning in his tracks.

“I love you,” MJ says, wearing her happiness on her sleeve.

And Peter beams, without skipping a beat, replies “I love you too, MJ.”

And MJ doesn’t bother letting Peter finish his lean and just meets Peter halfway, finally kissing him again for the first time in months.

Peter and MJ break away from their kiss and MJ hugs Peter again and breathes him in, just trying to have the feel of him come back to her again. “I’m really glad you’re home, Peter.”

“Me too, MJ,” Peter buries himself further on her neck.

“I’m glad you’re here, so I could do-” MJ quickly leans down, grabs a handful of snow from the ground and “this!” hits Peter headfirst then runs away giggling. She’s really really missed having Peter around her.

“Oh come on, MJ,” Peter shouts to the running MJ, wiping the snow off his face.

“Come on, Night Monkey (she was gonna make fun of the ridiculous name every chance she could get), you knew I was going to make fun of you eventually. It just came sooner rather than later,” MJ said facing Peter while walking backwards still trying to get as far away as she could.

Peter merely laughs exasperated. Man, did he love this girl.

“You really shouldn’t start fights you can’t finish, MJ,” Then Peter puts his mask back on and begins chasing after MJ who then turns and starts running away again.

They wind up in a snowball fight as the dumb idiots in love that they are. Peter throwing snowballs that don’t really reach her cause he doesn’t want to use his full strength and MJ throwing snowballs at him to slow him down but all of which are pointless because Peter inevitably reaches MJ and ends up tackling her until they both slip and wind up falling down on the snow on the ground.

They’re now both just lying on the snow tangled together and giggling like idiots. Peter broke MJ’s fall so MJ was lying on top of him.

MJ removes Peter’s mask and just smiles at him, looking him in the eyes, and says “Merry Christmas, Peter.”

Peter smiles back and with a look of just pure awe struck adoration, says “Merry Christmas, MJ,” wiping away the snow that’s gotten on her face.

MJ then grins and leans down to kiss Peter again, Peter meeting her halfway up to kiss her too, and as they make out, lying together in the snow, freezing with nothing but each other to keep themselves warm, MJ thinks to herself that this may not have been such a bad holiday after all.

THE END.

ommggg okkokok this is like really weird. it’s the first fic i’ve written since spideychelle month so aghk im pretty sure it’s all over the place. it feels pretty unnecessarily long maybe, and i feel like mj’s acting ooc. aghk. also, this was originally supposed to be a longer fic (yes, even longer than this my ghods what was i thinking haha) that had more of the stuff from your wishlist

the general idea was that peter and mj would be apart for a long time and meet each other in time for christmas like what happens here. but, there’d be a thing where they met at avengers hq where ironfam was currently chilling. but then i couldn’t decide whether i’d follow canon or not plus the idea just felt bigger than i could tackle so heerreee. i hope i’m not too late and i haven’t totally disappointed yaa. and omg we got each other. i had an inkling cus i noticed that what you added was similar to mine heh. (or is this just how secret santa works? 2 pips exchange? no idea hahahha)

merry christmas even tho it’s the new decade already and i just wanna thank u ahead of time for what you wrote. i haven’t read it yet cus i feel guilty over not having written yet i got a gift so whaaaaaaaa. hope ya got something from this. happy holidays, man

#SpideychelleSecretSanta2k19 #spideychelle #spideychelle is canon bitches #<3 #michelle jones #peter parker

[conandonandon]

Flowery Exchanges (Connor x Reader)

This story has been removed as I intend to make it into an original short comic with different characters. If you liked the original story and happen to find the comic please don't mention it was a fanfic because I am very private with my fanfic and don't want it tied to my public presence, sorry.

#Dbh #d:bh #Connor x reader #connorxreader #rk800 x reader #dbh Connor #Connor rk800 #rk800 #Detroit: Become Human #Detroit Become human #x reader #my fic

[daggerandrose]

I can’t believe it already November 28th, this month has gone by so quickly! Here are some of the Famous/Non-Famous AUs I’ve read! These are focusing more on Famous H/Non-Famous L. I’ll definitely do a part 2 where it’s Famous L/Non-Famous H.

As always, make sure to leave a nice comment for the authors and leave a kudos!

Whirlwind, 21k, by @haydolce 

AU. Acclaimed actor, Hollywood heartthrob, and Oscar nominee, Harry Styles, seems to have the world at his feet, but seeks out an old friend when he needs a date for his big night.

lock me up with love, 29k, by @liltinylouis

“So you must go out more often than I thought,” Harry said. “I see you all the time now!”

“Well, one of those times you literally came to my door.”

Harry laughed, a loud honking sound, a shock to Louis’ ears. He couldn’t remember the last time he made someone laugh, not so easily and genuine.

Harry didn’t seem embarrassed, but his eyes were hazy, hair a bit mussed up, cheeks red. Oh. He was drunk, or tipsy maybe. That explained a lot.

“That’s true,” he said, then frowned. “Oh no, do I seem like a stalker?”

“Eh,” Louis said, “just a little bit.”

Louis had a messed-up knee, ruined career, and labradoodle to take care of. Harry had a normal knee, perfect career, and concern for his recluse neighbor. Harry's baking skills were enough to bring them together.

When It’s Late At Night, 25k, @all-these-larrythings

Louis has zero interest in an ex-boybander turned solo artist when his appearance on the show gets announced, but that's exactly who he gets stuck with when Harry Styles shows up at the Late Late show to promote the release of his debut album. For an entire fucking week.

Or

The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.

‘Til I Tasted You, 14k, by @icanhazzalou

Louis is Harry Styles' biggest fan. It doesn't matter that Harry is famous for being a food blogger and Louis can't cook to save his life.

At least, until Harry offers to give Louis a cooking lesson. Then it matters just a teensy bit.

tangled up in you, 45k, by @missandrogyny

Harry blinks once. And blinks again. And says, his voice dangerous: “Niall, did you get me a mail-order bride?”

Because what the actual fuck. It kind of looks like Niall’s just purchased a person. For Harry.

Niall blinks back at him for a few moments, before throwing his head back and howling with laughter. Harry throws a pillow at him. Hard. “No, what the fuck, Harry.”

“A prostitute then?” Harry also doesn't want a prostitute.

“Of course not!”

“A stripper?”

“No!”

Damn, he’s running out of ideas. He settles for launching another pillow at Niall’s head. Niall bats it away easily, still laughing. “Stop!”

“What did you get me, then?!” Niall must hear the tinge of hysteria in his voice, because he’s pulling himself together, trying to stop himself from laughing.

There’s still a big grin on his face, though, when he says, “I got you a professional cuddler.”

A professional…what. “What?”

Something Great, 31k, by @infinitelymint

In which a coincidence, instagram, a party, a piano and a planned coming out all come together to make two people fall in love. As it happens, it turns out to be a rather effective combination.

or, Louis is a student and Harry is the mega-famous singer that happens to post a photo with Louis in the background. Together they kind of break the internet.

Rise up like the sun, 41k, by @tommosgun

“I wasn't taking a sneaky pic.” Louis blurted out, the guy stood at one of the urinals taking a piss. “You were.” The guy answered coolly. “I would've taken a pic with you if you'd just asked.” “No I didn't want a pic with you.” The guy turned his head, quirking his eyebrow sardonically. “No you're far too cool for that, you just wanted to violate my privacy.” Louis squeezed his eyes shut. “I'm sorry. Look..” He walked towards the guy flicking his phone out. “Hey.” The guy hunched over, hiding his junk. “Oh no no, I wasn't gonna take a pic. Fuck.” Louis threw his hands up, stopping in his tracks. “Look I'm going to show you I'm deleting it.” Louis turned his phone and the pic disappeared. “You looked familiar, I was going to send it to my friend and ask who you were, I'm sorry, dick move.” Louis sighed, smiling apologetically. The guy zipped and walked to the basin. “So you invade my privacy then insult my level of fame by pretending to not know who I am.” The guy was turned away from Louis. “Look I'm...shit.” Louis inhaled noisily. The guy turned, a grin spread over his face. “I'm fucking with you.”

Not Quite, 34k, by @lads-laddylads

Niall gives Harry an exasperated look, nodding slowly. “Okay...so do you want to explain why we’re hiring Louis? And do you want to explain it without making any mention of his soft hair or ample buttocks?”

As Harry prepares for the premiere of his first blockbuster film, his manager encourages him to hire a bodyguard as a precautionary measure. Harry ends up making an unusual choice.

24K Magic, 32k @justalittlelouislove

“I know, I bet you want an autograph.”

An...what? Louis’ jaw drops open, actually hangs open, as he gapes at him in absolute and utter disbelief. Right here, on a Friday night in London, Louis has happened upon the biggest douchebag in the history of the world. Surely he should contact someone. A record-keeping organisation or something.

“You think I want an autograph,” Louis repeats slowly. Maybe if the guy hears the words back clearly enough he’ll comprehend the level of asshole he’s throwing out into the universe.

It doesn’t work, Mr. Douchebag of the Century just smirks and leans into Louis’ space, well more into his space, “Mmhmm, we’ll have to go up to my Penthouse. That’s where I keep my pens.”

or

A fic based on 24k Magic by Bruno Mars, in which Harry's a mess and famous, Louis is a mess and not, Liam and Zayn are probably hiding something, and Niall is a horrible flatmate.

Kiss Me With Adventure (”Til I Forget My Name), 31k, by summer_roses

Harry is the big new thing in the music industry and in a mad search to find a makeup artist before his first ever world tour kicks off. Louis is an internet famous beauty guru/YouTuber who drinks too much tea and a habit of cursing excessively. When a fan tweets Harry the link to Louis' YouTuber channel it starts something neither of them could have ever imagined.

**

Based on the prompt: Harry's the biggest indie star in the music industry and just as his first world tour starts his makeup artist leaves. Harry's team is frantically searching for a new one but they can't seem to get a hold of one Harry actually likes?? Cue Harry, alone in his apartment a week before tour, he sees a tweet from a fan saying that "this is my favorite youtuber!! blah blah", Harry clicks it and there's youtuber!Louis who //conveniently// is also a beauty guru. Harry thinks he's cute n stuff but he also wants him on his team and all that.

Is This Seat Taken, 35k, by lainy122

A borrowed suit from Zayn, a cigarette and the right attitude, and Louis went from security breach to misplaced celebrity instantly. He could practically see the wheels in the security guy’s head switch from ‘could be dangerous’ to ‘could get me fired’. L.A was so predictable.

Louis makes a bet with Zayn that he can sneak into a music awards event without getting caught, and when he ends up posing as a seat-filling member of staff he runs into superstar Harry Styles and sparks fly. Que the music.

Tis the Season for...Love?, 27k, by @alarriefantasy

Prompt: Harry seems to have it all: A successful career as a pastry chef, a Victorian home in London, and a dedicated boyfriend who he's been with for years. One day he stops by his boyfriend's apartment to surprise him and finds out that he's not so dedicated to Harry after all. Shocked and too depressed to celebrate, he decides to skip Christmas and on a whim leaves on a plane to New York. In New York he meets Louis…

Or...Louis might just be what Harry's needed all along.

A Pleasant Side to You, 8k, by @smrwine

Louis brought his palms up to his temples, easing the roaring headache that was quickly developing beneath his skull. His entire day spent half dressed out in the sun was all leading up to this show, and hearing their new songs, and being twenty feet away from his only teenage heartthrob and coming of age inspiration. It had been nearly a decade since he saw them perform live, and this was something he was genuinely looking forward to. Louis shook his head and cringed inward at his disappointment.

“Well who’s replacing them, then? They were the headliners.”

“I dunno,” Nick said with a fleeting hand movement. “Some bloke named Harry Styles.” or Louis ends his summer with a festival and a man whois almost too good to be true.

One Week, Eight Hours, 3k, by daggerinrose

Louis doesn’t have a reason to hate Harry Styles (which, to be fair, is a reason of its own.)

or: a production assistant with no experience in front of a camera interviews a rockstar with old shoes and a distasteful attitude.

Please let me know if there’s anymore recs you have! Happy 28th!

#famous/non-famous au #fic rec #28th appreciation #larry fanfiction #mine