#THIS HAIRSTYLE IS SUPERIOR ON HIM

[babieken]

LEE MINHYUK😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[lyxchen]

Give me a man with chin length wavy/fluffy hair and a side part and I Will go feral and try to eat his gender

[taegyunie]

240930 💗

[but-the-library-of-alexandria]

I love drinking my Kryn Matriarchy Juice and not just because I'm obsessed with both drow as a race and gender in fantasy cultures in general, but also because it makes essek like. the elle woods of the dynasty.

not that essek is particularly masculine on the face of it lol but I do think it's interesting he's one of the only drow we meet who has very short hair. which might just be because elves and long hair traditionally go hand in hand in fantasy, but it could also be an example of kryn fashion leaning feminine by default, especially the kind of formal fashion worn by people in politics who want to be taken seriously. and we know that essek is the rebellious progressive youngster of the court, so it makes sense that the non-conformative hairstyle is a subtle little rebellion against social norms

we kind of take for granted that essek dresses and presents himself the way he does - the mantle that broadens his shoulders, the cloak that makes him look big and boxy, floating to make himself taller - to look intimidating and powerful, but we're coming at that from a pov where masculine = powerful. in a world where femininity is the default and superior gender - where the queen and most of her high-ranking officials are and always have been women - why would that be the case?

anyway this is all to say that essek coming to court for the first time with his short hair and shoulder pads and plain black oversized cloak looked like this to the other drow:

[sincerlyus]

Reverse Falls!!

Soo this is my take on Reverse Falls!! I don't really know which are the original designs or which are the new personalities that each character adapts, so I made my own headcanons!! :3

It should be noted that there are characters who do not change personalities with anyone, but rather their personalities are more exaggerated or are opposite to the originals. Or (in the case of McGucket) their relationships are different so they change their way of being progressively.

EXPLANATION TIME:

This is quite long, I'm going to explain the personalities of each one and how they relate to various characters. Credits to: hours of daydreaming and Google Translate  (TW: child abuse, emotional and physical abuse, homophobia, classism. I don't know if there's anything else, just in case)

Pacifica Northwest: Outgoing and very expressive. She didn't know Gideon very well until her parents sent her to Reverse Falls. She likes to knit, draw, and has a lot of stuffed animals. She has a lot of hair, and likes to do different hairstyles every day ("to be innovative"), cries when she has to cut it. She is very affectionate with Gideon and tries to get him out of his shell. She is a little insecure, but likes to see the positive side of things. She gets along very well with Bud, although sometimes she feels he is a little weird. Symbol: Llama (on her sweater)

Gideon Gleefull: Insecure, has little self-confidence, very skittish and anxious. Has a habit of chewing when he is thinking, like OG!Dipper (chewing on pens, his shirt, etc.). He didn't really know how to talk to Paz at first since the first time they met they were very little, what was she going to say?, was a "Hello" enough?, a handshake?, a complicated handshake?, was she going to ignore him? Paz simply gave him a big hug when she got off the bus (+ gave him a sweater she made on the way). Symbol: Telepathy star (in his hat)

Bud Gleefull: Ultimate scammer. Very friendly and funny, although sometimes a little intimidating. Bye Hawaiian shirts. Very patient with Gideon. He is basically the “cool uncle/dad”. He put Paz to work the day she arrived, although he became attached very quickly and gave her family privileges (he does the same with Gideon).

Mason “Dipper” Pines: He is still very insecure but is able to feign confidence when standing on stage with his sister. He still has a lot of passion for science, he is not very affectionate, he holds back his emotions as he does not want to look vulnerable, especially in front of Stanford. He has a lot of respect for Ford (or rather, fear), being his apprentice he sees him more as a teacher, a superior figure than as an uncle; however he has very little respect for Stan, threatening him and making fun of him. He does not usually use his amulet much, only to practice tricks or in his shows. He has a very distant relationship with his sister, similar to that of the Stan twins. They have many disagreements, but they still have each other's back, especially when Ford is aggressive with one of them. The most sincere relationship he has is with F, although he still treats him like an employee, knowing that he was one of the brilliant minds behind the portal he respects him. Sometimes he discusses theories and shares discoveries with him (although he is embarrassed to think that his only "friend" is an employee of his uncle). Once he met Gideon and Paz, he was able to show his more fragile side and be himself, although he doesn't consider them completely friends (that changes post-weirdmageddon). Symbol: Pine tree (a small pin)

Mabel Pines: A spoiled brat, basically. She's very charming and friendly on stage and with guests at the Pines' many parties, but she's very whiny and selfish behind the scenes. She's not at all affectionate, to the point that she hates physical contact, especially if it's from townspeople. She resents her brother a lot for being Ford's "favorite" (he doesn't really have favorites, he's just less strict with Dipper because he's useful to him). She's Stan's spoiled child, giving her what she wants when she wants it (they have a nice relationship actually, Stan being one of the only ones who comforts her when she's sad). Instead of knitting, she likes to design her own dresses and accessories for shows and parties (her guilty pleasure is arts & crafts, since it's a very "childish" activity for a Pines). Obsessed with Paz, but learns to respect her limits throughout the story. Symbol: Shooting Star (a small pin)

Stanley Pines: He basically swaps personalities with Bud, runs the Telepathy Tent, is very friendly, and is scared of his brother and the twins. He never gets involved in Ford's experiments, having a very tense relationship with him. He loves the twins very much but knowing the power they have with those amulets he prefers to go along with them and not question too much what they ask (he knows when to be firm but the one who really has an impact on them and can make them see reason is Ford). Symbol: Oyster(?? (on a necklace)

Stanford F. Pines: Did you think OG! Ford was a jerk? Well now he's twice as much! He doesn't have an ounce of empathy in him, he's very narcissistic and only cares about his projects and his image. He doesn't care at all about the twins, only seeing them as a way to make money, demanding the most out of them, and he doesn't hesitate to use violence if any of them get out of line. He's very distant with Stanley, speaking to him very dryly (or rather, barely speaking to him at all). He's almost a hermit, living in his laboratory, not letting the townspeople get to know him; although unlike OG! Ford, he cares a lot about how he presents himself in front of the public, taking care of his image and clothing. He's very demanding with Mabel, as he feels she's nothing more than a spoiled child, the image of the Telepathy Tent along with her brother. He is a bit kinder to Dipper, as he realizes that he has a brilliant mind for his age (though not more so than his own), so he includes him in many of his experiments and research if he proves useful; but excluding that, he is just as insensitive as he is with his twin, mistreating him if he does not comply with what is due. His relationship with McGucket is kinda weird: although they were friends in college, the power that Bill/Will offered him completely consumed him, being abusive to F, forcing him to work long nights, keeping him awake by force. He only sees him for his use: his great skill with mechanics (which Ford does not have, although he hates to mention it). Although he was in love with F while he was at Backupsmore, he currently has no romantic feelings towards him, considering him an employee, his assistant, nothing more. He has internalized homophobia (a gift from Filbrick) and classism, so he hates to remember when his relationship with F was one of equals, friends. It disgusts him to think about when he would get so emotional around him. Symbol: Six Fingered Hand (the diaries)

Fiddleford H. McGucket: He is still the brilliant mind he was in his youth, but stress eats him alive. He started to age very quickly thanks to it. He invented the memory gun to try to forget all the horrible things he witnessed or that Ford made him suffer, but his boss doesn't allow him to use it too much since it can damage his mental health and erase knowledge, making him less efficient and useful. He doesn't have a very deep relationship with Stanley, since he practically lives in the lab where Ford forces him to work, but they are able to talk whenever F has a break (almost never). He can't stand the twins too much, not only because he feels that they are very annoying, but because the simple presence of children in his day to day life reminds him a lot of Tate, with whom he no longer has contact. Everyone knows about the abusive relationship he has with Stanford, they are not indifferent to it but they try not to mention it or get involved in his affairs (practically out of fear of Ford).  Throughout his stay with Stanford he started developing an emotional dependence on him: not only did he make him feel that he was useless without him, but he uses violence on him when he is not fulfilling his duty, causing F to blame himself when this happens (What did he do wrong? What can he do to improve?). This got to the point where he started to hurt himself when he did not do something right. Ex: hitting himself when he noticed that his leg was bouncing in front of his anxiety (something that bothers Ford a lot), pulling out clumps of hair in front of the stress of not being able to achieve something, biting his nails, scratching himself, hitting his head (imagine Dobby from HP). Such actions and the mixed feelings he had towards Ford, made him develop masochism, enjoying when he inflicts pain on himself and when he is the victim of Ford's physical and psychological abuse, he clearly hid this for a while since it would look very unprofessional on his part.  Eventually his boss found out and used this to his advantage, being quite sadist himself (he enjoys watching or inflicting pain and/or humiliation on others, in this case, he gets sexual pleasure). So every time Ford needs to let off some steam, vent his frustrations (or is just horny), he uses Fiddleford to fulfill his fantasies, making F's wishes come true as well. He basically uses him as a sex toy, and F doesn't complain, having suffered so much emotional manipulation, he even considers himself lucky that his boss wants to be with him like this, even if it's NOT healthy. Symbol: Spectacles

Bill Cipher: I don't like the idea of ​​changing his name, so Bill stays. He's still the same chaotic demon as in the original series, but this time he's been tricked by Ford into working for him and doing his bidding. He's also forced to do the twins' bidding. We already know that Bill can change his shape and color, so I think all of his shame and self-pity manifests itself in his appearance, turning blue over time (any strong emotion makes him change his appearance). He manipulates Gideon and Paz, making them feel sorry for him so they'll do his bidding (it doesn't work, clearly). The people he has the most contact with are Ford and Fiddleford, as they spend most of their time in the basement where he's locked up.

So that's it. I don't really know how this timeline would work, considering the portal and the journals, but I just wanted to have fun with the character designs and relationships (I feel like the weirdmageddon would happen sooner than in the original timeline). If you want me to go deeper into certain relationships or characters, let me know!!(≧▽≦) I'll see if I can go deeper into the relationship between Ford and Fiddleford that you guys liked so much (you guys really like toxic yaoi, huh??). I'm thinking of making a fanfic or smt to explain their day to day life in the lab and how Ford invited F to work with him (SPOILER: it didn't go well...).

That's it ig, LIKE AND SUSCRIBE!!!1!!1!Σ(°ロ°)

[neowinestainedress]

wave | lee donghyuck

pairing: lee donghyuck x fem reader genre: college au, academics rivals to lovers, kinda fake dating, forced to work together on a project, smut, fluff, humor (idk), music major!haechan, music major!mc | not really requested but thank you 💌 anon for the inspo summary: your indifference toward Lee Donghyuck, also known as Haechan, becomes rivalry when he decides to sabotage you. The battle turns into a war, the war turns into a plan, and the plan, well, the plan fails miserably... or succeeds wonderfully. After all, it’s all about points of view. Or, Haechan thinks he found a way to distract you and be better than you, but doesn’t think it thoroughly and screws it up. warnings: smut, mentioned weed consumption, alcohol use, fingering, oral (receiving), unprotected sex, public sex, jealous sex, bickering, teasing, etc | inclusivity notes: reader wears different hairstyles (no mention of texture, type and color), no mention of body type (but haechan lifts her a few times), no mention of skin color, no use of y/n wc: 22.4k (out of 42k)

a/n: finally i’m back! i started this fic more than a year ago so seeing it finally come to life means everything to me. i had so much fun writing it, so i hope you’ll love it too. please, let me know with comments, reblogs (that also help reach more people), or anon. i love knowing what you think. enjoy! also if there are formatting mistakes please let me know cause i’ve been having problems posting this and i copied it without editing it once again.

masterpost (with visuals and playlist) (i can’t post the link or else the post doesn’t show up in the tags, but you can find it on my profile)

Being number one in your academy isn’t a want, but a need.

You didn’t spend your entire life crafting your skills and splitting yourself between the books and the training room for all of that to be swept under the rug when you finally made it to your dream university; Neo Arts Academy.

Surely, with the prizes promised to those on top, you aren’t the only one with that racing passion to drive you through each day. Tons of people try their best, and even put their health at risk to reach the biggest success, but you manage to focus on yourself and keep your life in a pretty healthy balance.

You managed to focus on you… until something, well, somebody, started to come into your way.

Lee Donghyuck, also known as Haechan, his stage name —if he ever made it big in the industry he wanted to be already known.

You never paid him much attention. Honestly, you never paid attention to anybody, your only goal was to take care of your small garden and top everybody else, but when his competitiveness got the best of him, you just couldn’t push him in the back of your mind.

Apparently, his goals are the same as yours, and that isn’t a nice thing considering how competitive your world is. You first truly glanced at him during a songwriting lesson, when he huffed a bit too loudly behind you while he announced to his friend, probably named Mark, that he sucked at writing songs. However, you only chuckled mindlessly that time and went on with your day.

That was your first year there and everything went fine. Then the second year arrived and you applied for your minor degree in dance and that was when Donghyuck’s presence started to be louder. You had nothing against him, but you quickly learned he couldn’t stand you for some reason. Rumours were quick at flying around, being passed from mouth to ear and you knew them.

You simply couldn’t care.

Yet.

Haechan doesn’t hate you. He could never do that. After all, he doesn’t even know you. But he does know something about you. He knows your name, and how it is always on top of his in any ranking. He knows you will always win the contests he wants to win so badly. He knows you are good at theory and practice. He knows he just can’t win with you.

He also knows nothing can touch you. Not because you are unreachable and believe you’re superior to others. Actually, you are very modest about all your academic success, but you always walk straight on your road with the goal perfectly in the line of view.

Haechan doesn’t hate you. Though, lately, he has a strange feeling in his body every time he sits at his desk to study and his only motivation is to surpass you. Nothing different than the first months there, he got pretty soon you were going to be a tough but nice competitor, but fuck he never imagined you would be so hard to beat. Now that after a year he never won or got the top grade and always came second after you, you aren’t motivating him, you are driving him insane.

He doesn’t have many distractions, but he has friends, some hobbies outside of university, and even a part-time job. But you? Is there something that is distracting you? Is there anything that could distract you? He has no idea, not now that he is watching you walk into the room, ready for the classical ballet history class —yes, of course out of all the minors, you had to choose his— and sit a few rows in front of him, all alone as always, taking out your lilac book note and your pen.

Haechan has no idea, but he is going to find out something that can easily distract you and push out of your path.

You know people think of university as a moment to socialise, but being on your own has never been a problem for you. You have contacts with some of your hometown friends, and most importantly, you don’t mind doing things alone; you can go to the cinema when you want, you can pick whatever restaurant you like, you can take a walk, or stay at home.

You’ve always been comfortable in your bubble, and you’d like to keep it that way, but life has strange plans.

“Damn, always on a rush.” You recognize Haechan’s voice, but you don’t bother turning around because you’re sure he’s not addressing you. You think it’s weird he’s sitting next to you, but you blink the surprise away and grab your tablet from your bag. “Whoever put music theory at 8:30 in the morning on a Monday needs to go to jail.”

You chuckle at his comment, subtly rolling your eyes before opening the note app to go where you left it in the previous lesson.

“You write a lot.” This time you’re quite sure he’s talking to you, so your neck turns to look at him and you find him closer than you’d like him to be.

“I annotate, it’s just the essentials.”

He scans the notes quickly before scoffing. “The essentials? I don’t write as half as that.”

“Well, I think this is essential, but we all work differently,” while you’re answering him, you don’t even notice that his friend is not beside him, and you get lost in him for a second, mostly in the scent that’s filling your nostrils now that his brown jacket is so close to you.

“The professor talks too fast, how the fu— how do you get everything?” He stops himself from cursing and backs away, finally making you breathe some air that is not filled with his intoxicating perfume.

“I rewrite phrases. And, to be sure, I record the lessons, so I can re-listen to them in case something doesn’t make sense when I study them. And then I also re-write the not—”

“You record the lessons?” He almost snarls with his eyes bulging out of his skull as he, once again, stands too close to you.

“Is it illegal?” Your head tilts to the side as genuine curiosity blooms on your face.

“No, it’s… it’s…” he sighs, throwing his head back and cursing something under his breath in a tight dialect you don’t recognize. “I never thought about it.”

“Oh, well, it helps me a lot. Sometimes when I’m too tired to read I just play the lessons and memorize stuff while I do other things,” you smile, moving your hair to one side of your neck before grabbing the pen when the professor walks in. “You should try.”

“Oh, you can be sure I will.”

Haechan can’t be so stupid. He can’t believe he can be so stupid. Why didn’t he ever, ever, think about that? That’s a smart idea, better than crying and cursing when he tries to understand what he wrote down on paper when he revisits the notes, or asking Mark if he wrote some phrases he had marked down with several question marks or dots to fill —dots that he never fills.

But he’s still sure he can’t be a terrible student, he had always been on top of his classes, always aced them and his study method worked… but what if yours worked better? Given the results of the past year, and the start of this one, the answer is clear: yours do work better.

But he doesn’t think that it’s the only reason you are beating him in everything. What if you have other tricks?

Haechan is going to find out.

You always believed your only competition was yourself. You never liked to engage with other people and fight them or fear them. But Haechan had given you no choice.

It was an open threat at you when he purposefully told you a different day to turn in an assignment when you were sick, you had no choice but to fight back.

That was when Haechan truly became your rival. He had always been, you two were always at the top, fighting for the first place and the big prizes, but now it was a matter of pride.

Haechan had officially made it on top of your blacklist, at least he could arrive number one in something, not like there was a big competition to be in there, in fact, you didn’t even have one before he pushed your last nerve.

Fucking it up with you wasn’t Haechan’s plan, he wanted to befriend you and trick you into giving him some magic tricks, but things went… wrong. With Mark by his side, it was impossible to sit next to you. During songwriting you got up and sat on another seat in the middle of the lesson with the excuse of ‘not seeing from afar’, and he couldn’t approach you in any other circumstances. So, when you got sick for three days, he thought he could, for once, steal your spotlight.

He wasn’t sure you were sick, but he was sure enough you weren’t going to miss lessons days to study or work on projects; you never needed extra time, unfortunately, he knew it well. So the only thing that could lock you in your place was an illness of some kind. He did feel bad when you came back four days later and asked him if you missed something, he could see you still weren’t at your best, and he could’ve tried his luck by telling you the truth, hoping that the precarious state you were in was going to make you come up with a terrible essay on an instrument of the 18th century, but his eagerness got the best of him, and he lied.

So he had officially screwed his plan of getting closer to you.

“You are an asshole,” you scream, slamming the books in front of him on the table in the garden, not caring about his friends staring at you in shock. “And don’t look at me with that face of ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ because you know what I’m referring to.”

“I don’t, though…” he whispers, trying to keep a distance between you because you look scary —half bent on the table, furrowed forehead, pointing finger— and he thinks you are very motivated to reach over his neckline and strangle him.

You roll your eyes, groaning in annoyance. “You told me Professor Kim left an essay for Monday, I thought I could use the weekend to do an amazing job and he called me to his office because I was three days late.”

Haechan gulps, and the table goes silent, you feel his friends’ gazes on you but they are the last thing in your mind.

“Mind to explain?”

“I… I didn’t do it on purpose?”

“You have to ask me if you are an asshole because your mother didn’t put a brain in your skull?”

“Hey, take it back!” He warns with a pointing finger, glaring at you.  

“No,” you retort, crossing your arms on your chest and standing up straight. “You sabotaged me.”

“You are making things up. Maybe you should be in the creative writing major,” Haechan taunts, a shit-eating grin on his face.  

You gasp offended, clenching your fists to avoid wrapping your hands around his neck. “You — you — ugh,” you huff. “This paper was graded! And you knew it, it’s part of the mid-course work he adds to our final grade. Why would you do that to me?”

“You think I did that on purpose?”

“When did you turn it in?” You ask and when his eyes widen you scream at his face. “See! You turned it on time. I fucking hate you!”

“I didn’t answer,” he tries to defend, a challenging edge in his voice, getting to your nerves more than the look on his face.

“First of all, I can see it in your face. You’re trying to look surprised and even scared, but you’re having the time of your life because, guess what, you can’t surpass me if you don’t play your stupid games.”

He snorts offended, gulping before leaning closer. “You think I can’t beat you?”

“It’s not what I think, it’s what the rankings say, it’s what our professors say, and it’s what all the external opportunities I’ve got say. But if you want to try to prove facts wrong, bring it on,” you shrug, grabbing your things and taking a step back. “No more dirty games from now on, Lee Donghyuck. Trust me, you don’t want me to start playing them too, you might not even see the top three if I do.”

The months to come are fire. You should keep minding your business but as soon as he opens his mouth in class you can’t press your lips together and fake it. You try, every time, but you fail.

“I just mean that the melody is what attracts people,” he argues during a discussion in the songwriting class.

You huff, shaking your head. “People care about the lyrics more.”

He scoffs loudly and the professor glares at him for the reaction but he still goes on. “People won’t listen to a song if the production sucks.”

You turn around, eyebrows pressed in a furrow. “And they won’t listen to a song if the lyrics are dumb, or tell a bad message.”

“Really? Catchy pop music is a thing even if you want so badly to maintain the purity of the art of music with only lyrical depth.”

“I love catchy pop songs, but there’s something objective in music and something subjective, if you paid attention to any of our classes you should know, right?”

The class holds back a laugh and the professor coughs, making you utter an apologize, more addressed to her than your enemy.

“Oh, trust me, I paid attention to class,” he retorts, mockingly smiling at you. “And we’re not talking about the quality but the appeal. People remember the rhythm of the song or the tune more than they remember the words.”

“And words can hold so much meaning for someone they will stick to them forever. Also, lyrics can have different interpretations and if you’re a good writer you can make one song fit for more occasions.”

“That’s dumb,” he says, looking at you up and down after scoffing. “Notes can transfer different emotions, what you said just doesn’t make sense, please.”

“Can we tone it down?” Professor Park warns, glaring at the both of you.

You nod and mutter another apology before speaking up again, “I believe that a good melody can easily attract people at first listen, but if we talk about the long run, a memorable song also needs good lyrics. And Mariah Carey herself said how being a songwriter makes your career last more, so I think it’s telling coming from one of the best voices ever.”

“I think you both make a great point,” the professor cuts the conversation off before you can jump at each other’s throat again. “It would be interesting to make a deeper analysis and maybe break down songs and compare data over time. If it was possible to keep the decorum…” she whispers the last word and you want to disappear because you hate the scene you gave. “But we need to move on with our lesson, so, as I was saying…”

Out of all the heated discussions you had in class, the one about the importance of production and lyrics, led to your worst nightmare, working on a project with him. Professor Park was so nice to pair you together because she wanted to see how your different points of view would’ve worked in the song you had to write and produce and even if you smiled and said, ‘it will be really motivating,’ to avoid yelling at her face, now you want to die.

You’re sure the first two knocks on the door don’t even reach the other side; your hits are too weak and the small apartment in that complex is too loud for anyone to hear. Is this the environment you have to work in today?

You roll your eyes and knock again, this time making sure it’s impossible for them not to hear you. You wait there only for a few seconds and then the door opens, revealing a boy your age you can’t remember.

“Oh, hi,” he cheers, big toothy smile beaming at you. “You must be here for Hyuck, right?”

You hum, nodding and murmuring, “Yes, I have to work on a project with Haechan.”

“Come in.”

You step inside the house and look around briefly before your eyes fall on the table in the small living room; there are books everywhere, headphones on the ground, boxes of food and empty water bottles, and most importantly talks too loud for four boys that were supposedly studying.

“Mark, can you lower the music?”

“Music is what I’m studying, I can’t,” the man you know well replies. “Why don’t you keep your pencil close to you? Jesus, there’s graphite everywhere.”

“You’re so annoying, I can’t go in my room, Jeno still didn’t take down the light boxes,” the brown-haired replies, sending a death glare to the boy at his side who quickly replies to his defence.  

“Hey, I finished shooting half an hour ago and now I have an essay to write, leave me alone.”

“They’re entertaining, aren’t they?” Haechan’s voice brings you out of the haze of his bickering friends, their conversation fades in the background while your anger level rises just seeing his face when you turn around.

“Surely more entertaining than you,” you retort before taking a step forward, pretending to know where to go in that house.

Haechan rolls his eyes, thanking his friend who opened the door —Jaemin— and coming next to you. “You don’t know where my room is yet, so if you’d like to follow me.”

You trail behind him, waving at the men around the table but it’s clear that none of them even noticed your presence. Luckily for you, Donghyuck’s room is at the end of the corridor and the mess that goes down in the other room is not hearable enough to make your day a living hell.

“So, do you have anything in mind?” He asks after you sit at one of the chairs at his desk.

You shake your head, fixing your skirt and pulling out some things you might need from your bag. “Wanted to hear from you first. Since the melody is so crucial, we should start from that,” you mock in a fake-sweet tone, and you feel his glare on your skin.

“You truly are a pain in the ass, you know?” He scoffs, moving his hair out of his face, gaze fixed on you.

“And for what? Because I agreed with your theory?”

“If you have a melody in mind it’s easier to make the words flow.”

“If the melody has nothing to do with the idea, you only have some notes and not a song.”

Now that there aren’t rows of chairs dividing you, the heated argument has led you face to face, literally. And you feel your heart pound in your chest from the anger and, also because it’s weird to be this close to a stranger you can’t stand.

“Okay, Miss Taylor Swift, why don’t you enlighten me and show me what you got?”

You glare at him but he’s unfazed, holding the eye contact proudly. “My lyrics will be better than your production.”

“And are those lyrics in the room with us?”

“God,” you groan, throwing your hands in the air and your head back. “You drive me insane.”

“And you are pretentious and still never prove all the things that that little, bratty, annoying mouth of yours says.”

Deep creases show on your forehead, and you have to turn around because if you see his face for a second more you will slap him. But you want this project done, you have four weeks to turn it in, but you want this torture to be over as soon as possible, so you know you have to put the pettiness aside.

“If we want a great result and good grades, we need good lyrics and a good melody,” you say, calmly facing him again, slowly watching as his face softens. “My words and your production. I don’t care what comes to us first, if you think it can be useful, we could even brainstorm some tunes and catchphrases and then build it around it.”

“Now you’re making some sense,” he exclaims, smiling widely before patting the top of your head. “So that head is not empty.”

“Oh, seriously? I’m trying to have a truce, and you fuck it all up again?”

“No, sorry, I just think you’re really smart when it comes to college but a bit annoying when it comes to life.”

“You’re just mad you can’t beat me.”

“I can,” he retorts smugly.  

“Then why don’t you do it?” You tease, cocking your head to the side.

Haechan scoffs, lips twitching in a quick smirk before he wets them. “I didn’t yet, but are you so sure I won’t?” He whispers, breath colliding with your lips and nose brushing yours, your brain doesn’t even register his hands on your legs right away, only when his fingers caress your bare skin right above the hem you wake up from the haze of having him so close.

“Time will — time will prove us,” you say, turning to the desk and scratching your neck. “Time will tell us, not prove us.”

Haechan snickers, moving closer to see on your tablet where you opened the notes, and smiles smugly. He thinks he found a way to distract you.

The project isn’t done in the first week, and to put a cherry on top, Professor Park decides to make it the big project for the end of the class, adding a cover for the single, a plan to sponsor it, and, if someone feels brave enough, even to record it. Even if you wanted to, a thing this big, and now with so much weight on the final grade, can’t be done in one week.

Yet, you think you’ll have to deal with Haechan only on your weekly meet-ups for that project and during lessons, you never imagined you would have to deal with him even during your library study on Wednesday.

“Why are you studying in the middle of the week?”

“You know, if I had to replicate a sound every time we start a conversation it would be ‘and now, I just want to sit back and relax and enjoy my evening, when all of a sudden I hear this agitating grating voice,’ and that is the sound that plays in my mind, actually.”

“Grating? Really?”

“Well, it’s the quote but it fits,” you reply sternly, bringing your attention back to the book. “Also, the question is not, why am I studying, but why aren’t you? How will you beat me if you don’t?” You wink, laughing under your breath. You don’t even need to see his reaction; you know his jaw tenses and his nostrils flare for a brief second every time you tease him.

You hear the chair in front of you scratch on the floor, and deeply hope he’s not sitting on it. But Haechan is sitting on it, staring at you as if he could steal the information from your brain and pass it to his.

“I am studying.”

“No, you’re not,” you reply, eyes widening when he rips a page from your notebook and a pen from your case. “So, what have you learned since now?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes to the sky and instead run a hand on your face while sighing deeply. There’s just no way to get rid of him, right?

“You don’t even know what I’m studying.”

“Sound design,” he replies promptly, and you look down to see if he could’ve gotten a grasp from your books but there’s a paper on it and there’s not much written on it. Haechan smiles and moves to the chair next to you. “It’s because I started it too, there are too many notions, it would be a suicide to wait for the finals.”

“Oh, so you do something else other than think about me,” you tease, nudging him with your leg.

“Hey! I don’t think about you,” he replies firmly, frowning.

“Sure,” you huff, waving him off. “So, what do you know?”

“Well, all the basis we learnt last year, so the definition of sound, the path it follows, how it’s perceived based on the medium and how fast it travels through them, slowest through gases, faster through liquids, and fastest through solids, and that temperature effects it as well.”

You smile, content with the reply but you want to test him more. “What about the five characteristics of sound?”

“You think that’s a difficult one?” He asks, almost disappointed at the easiness of your question.

“Well, if you want to impress me so bad, I could ask you to list all the types of compressors?”

“You already know that?” He questions, quirking a brow, trying to think why he doesn’t remember them. “Wait, we didn’t do that in class.”

You laugh. “See, you’re witty. No, we haven’t done that yet, but since you love producing so much, I thought you knew it as personal knowledge.”

“Why do you talk as if you don’t want to do the same job as mine?” There’s a bit of annoyance in his tone, but there’s genuine curiosity in his eyes.

You shrug, pressing your lips together before diverting your gaze.

Haechan gasps. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what you want to do, yet, because I won’t believe it.”

“It’s not that I don’t know,” you reply, a low huff leaving your lips. “I’d like to try different things out, being a PR manager sounds interesting too. And I’m also pretty good at dancing, so that could be a career path.”

“It’s a shame we didn’t start practical courses, I would love to see you dance.”

“Yeah, sure, so you can mock me some more,” you groan.

He shakes his head. “No, you wouldn’t enroll in a program if you weren’t absolutely perfect at it, so I can’t come at your skills.”

“You’re so kind, I think I might love you,” you mock, moving closer to him and pouting before pushing him away with a light push on his chest and focusing on your papers again.

“And by the way, I know the characteristics of sound,” he says, right next to your face.  

You smile and think to yourself that this might be fun. “Good, go on and tell me.”

You don’t get why Haechan’s roommate bicker so much. Not that you could lecture them when, as soon as you walk inside his room, your talks won’t be much different than theirs (worse, probably). But you think you and Haechan, at least, have a reason to fight so much. His roommates are… weird. They are close. They all are, in an annoying way almost, always moving in packs and breaking their back to meet up even if their institutes are scattered around in the Academy. Yet, they get heated pretty easily when they sit in the living room, and you can only blame it on stress as you chuckle, standing against the countertop with a glass of water in hand.

“Donghyuck left you all alone?” Jeno enters the kitchen, distracting you from Renjun screaming at his painting and Mark cursing while he tries to come up with a melody for a small assignment you decided to not worry about —you have Haechan to worry about now.

“Yep, told me to be here at 2 pm just to be in the shower instead,” you reply with a tight smile on your face that makes him laugh and scroll the black hair out of his face.

“My fault,” he explains while pouring himself a glass. “I convinced him to stay at the basketball field when we finished and he couldn’t meet up with you smelling like rotten leftovers forgotten under the august sun.”

“Creative writing?” You ask after you chuckle at his description.

“Nope, photography, Renjun’s worst nightmare.”

You laugh. “It’s because you leave all those big things around his room, right?”

“Our room,” he says, empathising on the first word.

“Okay, communism king, your room but I don’t think your comrade is happy about it.”

Jeno laughs, and hums before gulping down a sip of water. “I’m not rich yet to afford a studio so he’ll have to deal with his bestie working, sweating, and crying his way to the top.”

“You could’ve been a nepo baby and have everything handed to you.”

“Sucks not to be one. I wouldn’t even bother being in Uni, just leaving my best life with my camera and daddy’s money.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Haechan says entering the kitchen, hair still damp and casual housewear on.

“None of your business,” you reply, placing the glass in the sink and walking to the door. “Come on, we have a song to create. It could be our first Billboard number one.”

Haechan sighs, snatching the bottle of water from Jeno’s hand, briefly confused at his grinning face, and then follows you quickly.

“Are you trying to hit on my friends?” He asks, closing the door behind.

“Would you mind?”

“Yes, I’d hate having to deal with you in our group hangouts.”

“You already deal with me. More than you should since you always come to me even when we could not be together,” you say, tilting your head to the side, and sitting on your assigned chair. “Are you perhaps jealous? Do you want me all to yourself?”

“Nah, you can go and fuck all of them right no—”

“Okay,” you don’t even let him finish and you’re at the door, but he springs after you and stops you.

“What are you doing? I was kidding!”

“Why? Since when you can tell me what to do?”

Haechan groans and drags you back to your place, but he doesn’t sit just yet, he’s bent over to be close to you. “I need you here with me to work on this goddam song, and then you can go and have a gangbang in the living room, I don’t care.”

“You’d be mad you won’t be part of it,” you joke, having the time of your life watching his pissed-off expression as he stomps loudly back at his place. “Accept that you will never win with me, and maybe you won’t be so triggered every time we talk.”

“Shit, it’s late,” you murmur, lifting your head from the lyrics you’re trying to write down. Now you got the theme —it’s a love song that you hope won’t turn lame— and even a faint idea of a tune, and while Haechan tried to get inspired by other songs and tried instruments he wants to add to the track, you worked on the words.

“Don’t you think we’re trying too hard?” He whispers, placing the guitar on his bed before standing up and stretching.

“What do you mean?” You ask, lifting your neck so you can look at him after you turn around on the rotating chair.

“Music should come to you, it should be… spontaneous.”

You’d want to roll your eyes, mostly for the spontaneous part, but he’s right. Most artists don’t think about the songs they make, the song comes to their mind when they’re not thinking about it.

“Yes, but do you think we’re doing such a shitty job with this?”

He shakes his head, walking closer to you. “Not totally, I just think that if we want to be on top, we have to work around it differently.”

You gulp when he hovers over you and grips the side of the chair tightly. “Like?”

“We should… relax. Take our mind off of it and just wait for it to come,” he glances at the desk, studying the crumpled tries you gave up on and the only three phrases you were happy with written on the tablet. “We should get inspired,” he whispers, and you’re once again so focused on his face that you don’t feel his hand on your thigh, under the long black skirt you’re wearing, it surely must’ve been on you for a while if the fabric was already crumpled up and his fingers teased the hem of your panties between your hips and stomach.

“Is — is this how you inspire people?” You ask, glancing down with a rising chest but for some reason not pulling away.

“Don’t know, I’ve never done it before,” he chuckles, slowly moving closer to your core, observing the small signs of your body. “Should we see if it works?”

You hate him. You should be working on that lyric for the last half hour you have left. You hate him. He’s making it impossible for you to stick to your ‘minding my business’ plan that had worked through all your school years. You hate him, you do, and yet you nod, humming a feeble ‘yes,’ in response.

“Good,” rolls out of his lips, and it sounds so different from his usual tone, you can’t help but feel hot.

Your nails sink in the chair when his fingers slip right against your clit after he had your consent and starts teasing it.

“So, it’s a love song…” he says, and you frown, heart pumping louder as for a second you think he led you on and you looked like a pathetic horny loser, but his hand is still playing with your pussy and his face is still close to yours. “Chose that because you have somebody in mind?”

“We literally picked it for a reason last week, you —”

“God,” he shushes you up, pushing the panties to the side and teasing your entrance, it’s already damp, but not enough how he wants it. “Can you stop being so rational for once? I know why we picked it; remember I’m trying to inspire you.”

“Wait, you really think some fingering can inspire me to write a love so—” your words shut down when he places a hand on your mouth, eyes widening but pussy leaking an embarrassing amount of cum.

He quirks a brow in surprise and, shortly after, a smug smirk curls his lips. “Oh, so you’re into that?”

You can’t reply, but even if you could’ve, you’re not sure you would’ve said anything.

“So, anybody in mind?”

You shake your head. Your love life has been anything but exciting, and after a few tries, you were sure it wasn’t what you needed to focus on, especially because nobody sparked your interest. Nobody was worth moving your focus from your studies.

“Great, so I guess that’ll have to be me.”

“What?” You mutter muffled, closing your legs and moving on the chair.

Haechan rolls his eyes in his skull, keeping you in place. “Oh, come on, you can fake it for a few minutes. Don’t act disgusted, I’m knuckle-deep inside you,” he says.

“Not yet.”

“I’m knuckle-deep inside you,” he retorts after he pushes into you with two fingers, staring right into your eyes.

You bite back a moan and a curse under your breath. “Fine, but I don’t want to think,” you say. “Just, prove it to me. If you’re good, I’ll be inspired and I’ll come up with the lyrics, if you suck, we’ll go back to our original method.”

Haechan hates that he constantly has to prove things to you, and he hates even more that he does it, almost as if he’s your dog and he has to follow your orders while you keep him on a leash. But if this will work to come up with a great song, and in his outer-songwriting-course-plan to distract you, he won’t complain.

Honestly, he couldn’t complain even if it only meant to finger you. He might want to fight you every time he sees your face but, damn, what a face.

“Shit,” you moan. You don’t want to give him too much satisfaction, but he knows what he’s doing and it’s been way too long since someone touched you like that. Damn, even since you touched yourself like that. Maybe the whole ‘staring at your goals’ was taking some funny things away from you.

“Do you want to turn the song into a Hozier song?”

You huff, you just asked him one thing and his mouth is running again doing the opposite. “You wish you were this good to inspire a Hozier type of song.”

“Really?” He taunts, pressing his thumb on your clit, starting to tease the throbbing nub in circles.

“Yes,” your voice trembles, but your face shows confidence.

Haechan snickers, quickening the pace of his fingers, watching you fight against yourself to not show how much you’re loving it. “One second of this mouth on your pussy and I’d make you change your mind,” he whispers right against your ears, hot breath fanning your skin. “It’s a shame you don’t deserve it.”

You groan, head rolling back in disappointment, and that makes him laugh.

“You have to think twice before running that mouth, babe. Especially with me.”

“Never,” you talk back, opening your eyes and regretting as soon as they meet his. His gaze is too intense, and your brain is too far gone to keep it up.

Haechan only grins, enjoying your wrecked face and the sounds your pussy is making as his fingers keep working on you. You might try to deny him, but your body is speaking to him, and deeply so are you. It’s in your eyes, and your lips trembling, and in the beautiful moans that are rolling out of your tongue.

“Are you close, brat?”

You don’t have it in you to complain, or retort, the orgasm is right around the corner and you fear he would ruin the experience if you said something out of line.

“Answer me,” he orders, lightly slapping your thigh.

“Yes,” you breathe out, biting your lower lip to prevent the whole house from hearing you.

“Good,” he replies, smiling proudly and starting to move faster in and out of you, hitting your sweet spot every time he reaches the base, and torturing your clit with his thumb. And when it’s too much for you, you come. Body trembling against the chair, and legs pushing up as the shocks of pleasure run through you.

“Acid when you talk but sweet to taste,” he hums after pulling out his fingers from his mouth and you only glare at him as you quickly try to get yourself together again. 

“It’s late,” he says, staring at the clock. “Go home and let me know if this was useful somehow. And not by replaying it in your mind at night wishing I was there with you.” He winks and you slap his shoulder hard. “What the hell!”

“I won’t come up with anything on purpose, and I swear if you keep being so annoying, I’ll be terrible at this.”

“You would never, this makes up like 80% of our final grade.” He challenges you with a glare.  

“If I go down, you go down with me,” you retort, face to face, fiercely looking into his eyes.  

“It’s not smart of you.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” you smile sweetly before it drops from your face. “It’s a threat.”

It’s not like you’re trying to avoid him after what happened, but that’s exactly what’s going on. You don’t regret the act per se, you just can’t believe it was so easy for you to agree to do that with him. And you know he will use it against you for eternity.

A very dumb move from your side to give him the possibility to tease you even more and about something you couldn’t defend yourself from.

But if you try your best to change corridors when you see him from afar, walk quickly back to your dorm room, and sit on the opposite side in class (you fail at keeping your mouth quiet, but you need to discuss with him during lessons), it seems like he’s doing everything he can to be on your path.

“I’m starting to believe you’re a stalker,” you huff, clearly scaring him when you stop abruptly in the middle of the library and make him stop in his tracks.

“I’m not.”

You raise a brow, staring at him until he huffs and throws his hands up in the air. “Fine, fine, I was following you but only because I wanted to know what you will study.”

“Why do you care so much about what I study?”

“So I know how to beat you?”

“Isn’t it more exciting if you beat me only using your brain by putting some knowledge in it without seeing my cards?” You say, pushing a finger on his chest and making him walk backwards until his back hits the bookshelf behind him.

“I think sneaky games are funnier, though,” he whispers, hand moving to rest on your side. “Especially with you.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, and taking a step back, freeing yourself from his hold. “The games you’re playing are not sneaky. Why are you always in my business?”

He shrugs. “Why not? So, what are we studying today?”

“We are not studying together.”

“Why? Isn’t it funny? The same study method, same hours, but one of us will be better than the other. That’s a truly equal comparison.”

You run a hand on your face and keep walking to find what you need. “If you didn’t distract me every two seconds, I would’ve already been like five pages into my studying session.”

“Oh, please, you are wondering around the library anyway. I’m just keeping you company.” His body follows yours like a shadow, his heat radiating so close to your skin that you think you might go insane.

“I don’t want your company,” you say, moving your eyes swiftly over the books in front of you as you try to find what you are looking for in the sociology section. When you finally find it, reminding yourself you have to buy it so you can annotate directly on yours, you walk back to your table, but Haechan is still beside you like a puppy on a string. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I could, and I’d want to, but I can’t,” he says, sitting at your side, smiling widely when you glare at him.

“This is a useless lesson for you,” you try to dismiss him.

“Is it? Because we have the same ones.”

“Jesus, okay, fine,” you give up, throwing your head back and raising your voice enough to make some heads turn in your direction. His biggest talent is to exasperate you. “But we give ourselves a timing, and then when we’re done, we’ll have to answer five questions.”

“And who answers to them all?” He asks, there’s a taunting edge in his voice, and a grin on his face.

“Is the best,” you reply as if it’s obvious.

“Yeah, but there should be a prize.”

“Being better than you is the prize.”

Haechan scoffs, and he hates to admit in his mind that he finds your snarky remarks so fucking hot, if you weren’t in a public library and if his job on earth wasn’t to detest you, he would’ve already had you bent on the table.

“I love how you’re always so sure of being better than me.”

You snicker and send him a flying kiss. “Honey, I am better than you.”

“Wait, I just left out a detail!” You almost scream when you compare your answers for the nth time because you can’t believe he has done slightly better than you.

“That detail is important,” Haechan replies unfazed by your indignation.

“No, it’s not. We would have the same score if this was graded,” you insist, feeling more angered than you should. It’s nothing serious, it shouldn’t be serious, but with him, there’s your pride on the line.

“But this is between me and you, so I win. Also, my phrasing in the second answer is better than yours.”

“Shut up, it’s not.”

“It is, and you just have to admit you lost,” he insists, leaning over, staring at you with a challenging raised brow.  

You swallow, eyebrows furrowing, and then you sigh. “Your advantage is minimal. And you only won a battle, because I’m winning a war.”

“Fine, Napoleon, I still won and you’re coming to my place even Saturday so we can do this some more.”

“Hey, Napoleon sucked! He lost the most important battles, the only ones he should’ve won.”

“That’s why I called you that,” he winks, clicking his tongue mockingly.  

“Oh, you think you will win the war? You’re wrong, honey, Waterloo is yours.”

Haechan laughs, standing up after putting his things in his bag. “I’m waiting for you on Saturday…” he says and before you can complain he starts singing, “Waterloo, I was defeated, you won the war…”

“Oh, shut up!” You say, hitting his arm as you push him away, but he giggles and walks away continuing with the tune.

“Waterloo, promise to love you forevermore. Waterloo, couldn’t escape if I wanted to…”

And you think that if only he didn’t try to sabotage your final grades in Music History, you might even find him funny.

Haechan hates you.

If he was sure he didn’t before, he is sure that he does now.

He can’t wrap his head around the fact that you, Miss zero social skills, and negative 100 friends, can be so good at debating. On every fucking topic. You’re well-spoken, witty, smart, somehow it looks like you know everything about everything. And even when you don’t know (and you always specify it — which he shouldn’t find so hot, but he does) you always come up with perfectly thought theories and analyses coming from the small knowledge you have on the topic. The thing he also hates is that you never sound like you’re showing off your skills, it’s just really nice to listen to you and —when he’s not the one intervening against you— you’re the sweetest person ever and everybody in every class absolutely adores you.

He wonders if you’re a robot. Maybe you’re some sort of artificial intelligence sent there to conduct studies on humans’ stupidity, and he was unlucky enough to start a fight with you. You just don’t seem real. And he’d love to dig deeper but he doubts he will find anything relevant.

You might be smart, but you also look incredibly boring. He tried to find out if you had interests, or anything that could distract you, but his research led nowhere. The biggest problem is that he hates you, but not to the point that he wants to get you suspended from University, so he has to find another way to make you slip.

Apparently, you’re playing the same game, but even at this, you are thinking faster and smarter.

“Where the fuck are all my anthropology notes?” Haechan mutters as he looks through his library, moving books and notebooks around, thinking he has gone insane. “Mark!” He screams, rushing to the desk to search again but he knows where he left everything; on the second shelf of the small library in his room, on top of the music theory book that hasn’t moved since a week.

“Yes?” His housemate peaks from the door only with his head.

“Did you mistake our notes?”

“What notes?” Mark furrows, backing away from his friend who looks out of his mind.

“The anthropology notes,” he says, voice full of annoyance because, why does Mark never know anything? He’s in the same course and, yet, he’s always somewhere else with his head. 

“Man, I don’t even take notes during that lesson.”

“What do you mean you don’t? Ugh, never mind,” Haechan groans, rolling his eyes because he can’t believe he can’t count on anybody. “Have you seen them somewhere?”

“Nope,” Mark replies, entering the room. “I mean, I don’t know what they look like.”

“You know right we have a test tomorrow? The winter break is close, and some courses have it. You are studying, right?”

“Yeah, just not every…thing…”

Haechan rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Why don’t you like it? I mean, I know it’s not really music related but it teaches you so much about other cultures and there’s a whole part about how music is different from culture to culture.”

“Next semester, we didn’t get there, yet. It’s a bunch of complicated terminology and theories I just don’t get,” Mark defends. He never understood why Haechan loved studying so much. He is only there for the music, and a few other theoretical lessons, but some courses don’t make any sense to him.  

“So you plan on being terrible tomorrow?”

“I just want a decent result; I don’t strive for perfection like you and your girlie.”

Haechan almost chokes on his saliva. “My girlie? Who’s my girlie?”

“That girl in class you always get into heated arguments with, and then she comes here and I’m pretty sure you make out when no one’s watching,” Mark says so calmly it infuriates Haechan more than if he was teasing him.  

“Shut the hell up! She’s my mortal enemy and while you have been paired with Yangyang for the song project, Professor Park thought it was nice putting her and me together.”

“Yeah, you can still make out with your mortal enemy,” he snorts, hitting his friend with a playful elbow hit.  

“Mark, shut up and leave, I have to study,” he tries to cut short, pushing his friend out of the room.  

“With what notes?”

“I don’t know. I left them on the shelf, and nobody entered my room since Saturday when she — Oh, my God.”

When your name resonates in the empty classroom after you’ve taken the anthropology test, your blood freezes for a second.

“Haechannie,” you cheer cheekily, turning around and pushing your tote bag far up your shoulders.

“Don’t,” he warns, lifting a finger to stop you from starting anything. “I have to talk to you.”

“Sure, the test was easy, right? You might have beaten me this time,” you say but you have to hold back a laugh when you scan his furious, pissed-off expression.

“Yeah, if you studied, it was,” he retorts venously.  

“And you surely studied,” you say, faking innocence.  

“You can study when you have something to study on,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, and you do,” you still play dumb, but when he calls your surname, you know he’s not joking anymore. “Yes?”

“Do you, perhaps, know where the fuck my notes are?”

You look around, shrugging. “Where are your notes, Donghyuck?”

“I don’t know, I’m asking you for a reason,” he retorts, plastering a fake smile that doesn’t reflect in the darkness of his pupils.

“They might’ve mixed up with my stuff when you invited me over Saturday?” You sing-song, tilting your head to the side and shrugging.

“Might’ve,” he repeats, a hint of bitterness in his tone. “It was just a coincidence.”

You shrug again, pushing your lower lip in a pout. “Sometimes… things happen.”

“And if it wasn’t on purpose, why couldn’t you just text me?”

“Because I didn’t notice,” you reply innocently, batting your lashes, knowing it will get on his nerves even more.  

He groans, closing his eyes to calm himself down before he speaks again, “then how do you know?”

“Don’t know, just making assumptions,” you say. “It turns out I’m really good at it.”

“I swear, I — I want to… I want to —”

“To what? Choke me because I got my revenge? Oh, it turns out it’s really not that funny when someone plays with you?” You mock, and in doing so you get closer to him.

“Goddamn,” he groans before your back meets the hard wall of the room and his lips meet yours in a heated kiss, his hands on your body and yours limp at your side as you’re too shocked to react. “I want to — I want to kill you, actually.”

You smirk, chuckling straight at his face. “Filled the space with the wrong letter, ‘cause you’re kissing me.”

“Maybe my kiss is lethal, maybe there’s poison on my lips.”

“Oh, you’re so romantic you’d die for me?” You coo, placing a hand on your heart.

Haechan groans, throwing his head back. “Why are you always so, so, so, God,” he curses, running his fingers in his hair. “I want my notes back, now.”

“I don’t have them,” you say, grinning because he looks wrecked. You know it wasn’t very morally mature for you, but it was only fair. Also, you know he doesn’t arrive last minute with anything, he had already studied everything and you’re sure he had answered everything on that paper, he just couldn’t revisit.

“My notes back when you pass by for the project or it’s war.”

“It’s already war,” you retort when he walks past you to leave.  

Haechan turns around, locking his gaze with yours. “Oh, honey, it can get so much worse than this.”

You felt like testing your luck when his notes weren’t back on his desk, but you had no idea it could get worse than that, until it got.

When he deleted an essay from your computer and you had to remake and finish the work of five days in five hours, so you cancelled a project he was working on for another assignment you had. And then he erased the recording of a course from your phone, so you ripped his notebook in front of his eyes (and his roommates too). The list of petty things is long, and you’re not really proud (you’re sure not even Haechan is) of what you did, especially when things started becoming personal. You two want to destroy each other, but you are honestly just killing yourselves in the meantime.

Your book slams closed so hard that you almost zip your hands in it, and by protecting your fingers you lose track of where you’ve been. “Get lost,” you whisper bitterly as soon as you recognize the hand that did that.

“No thanks,” he replies, sitting next to you.

“I’m trying to read a book in the quiet of the library, so can you leave me alone?”

“It’s a public space, I can sit wherever I want,” he replies, leaning back into the chair, and widening his legs under the table. You know ‘cause you feel his knee push against yours and you have to retract your leg to avoid the contact.  

You glare at him, breathing deeply through your nose because you can’t make a scene here. You two almost got kicked out of a class two days ago, and that was humiliating enough. So, you think that ignoring him is the best thing you can do.

“Wow, so you have a bit of self-control and don’t talk back. Never thought I’d see that day,” he replies sarcastically to your silence with an amused grin that curls his lips.

You hold back a scream and huff loudly, “I truly need you to get fucked right now.”

“Nevermind,” he jokes, pulling a tight forced smile and you close the book again, now too annoyed to even focus on the words on the paper. “I came here in peace, by the way.”

“Yeah, your peace is war in my country,” you reply bitterly, trying to shift away but those damn chairs make the loudest sounds at the smallest movements.  

“That’s because you’re full of prejudices.”

You inhale deeply, rubbing your temple to soothe the headache you know is about to arrive. “Haechan, tell me what you want and then leave me alone.”

He smiles, happy you are finally willing to listen, before he clears his throat. “Okay so, I have to say that some of this is funny. I mean, only the debates and these random talks, but I’m not the biggest fan of all the other stuff we’re doing, so why don’t we bring it back?”

“Bring it back? As in?” You question, raising a brow in confusion.

“I liked it better when we would just compete without tearing ourselves down. If you cancel, ruin, or save one of my projects with the word boobs in it before sending it to the professor another time, I will go insane.”

You hold back a chuckle. You have to admit it was your lowest move, but it was quite funny when Professor Choi had a whole talk in class about being careful before sending out finished projects and exposed him in front of the class.

“No, it wasn’t funny,” he mutters sternly, watching you fight with all the muscles of your face to don’t break into a laugh.

“No, sorry, it was,” you defend, voice trembling, threatening a chuckle to come out. “Like Iloveboobsdemo1 is the best thing I’ve ever come up with. That could be the title of our song.”

“If you want to get expelled from all the academies in the world that would be a perfect idea,” he says, trying to be serious because seriously it wasn’t funny, but when you stare into each other’s eyes for too long none of you two can hold back the laughter anymore. “Okay, fine. It was funny, but I don’t want that to happen again.”

“So? Do you give up?” You taunt, tilting your head after placing it on your palms.

“I’m not giving up, we are changing strategies of our combat.”

“Oh, okay. You will lose anyway in the end, so if this can be more beneficial for me in the meantime, it’s fine.”

He sighs, rubbing his temples, and you chuckle. “Don’t laugh,” he whispers distraught. “I… could you sometimes at least pretend to give me some kind of chance of winning with you and not feeling like you’ll always have the last laugh?”

“I just replied.”

“No, a reply would’ve been ‘Yes, Haechan, don’t worry, we can change it.”

“Too wordy,” you comment, waving him off with a movement of hand.

“You said like ten words more,” he replies, voice breaking in his throat in a whine, but you decide to act as if you don’t notice.  

“It still flowed better. See, that’s why the lyrics are in my hands. You’re really not good with words.”

“You keep doing that,” he groans, slamming a hand on the table, attracting some curious eyes on you before you glare them away. “But it’s fine, okay, so… no more dirty games? No more sabotaging?”

“Yes, no more. Well, not like this, but we can still play a bit, right?” You ask, retracting your hand right when you’re about to hold his to seal the deal.

“Yes, but nothing weird, or you know what I mean.”

You hum, reaching out again and shaking his hand. “It’s a deal, then?”

“It’s a deal.”

The deal somehow turns into Haechan always being next to you. He’s like a shadow, sitting next to you in class, studying with you in the library, and so on. You don’t mind him when he minds his business, but he rarely does. Especially during lessons when you need to focus on what the professors are saying.

You roll your eyes when Haechan sneaks a paper next to your notebook and you read ‘how would a dog wear pants’ with two badly drawn different options on it.

“Does it look like the right moment?” You whisper under your breath, side-eyeing him, and trying to keep your focus on the lesson. You see him nod and decide to mark the second option, thinking that he’d be happy with it, but he has the urge to hear a whole dissertation on something that will never happen, right now.

“Why?” He asks as if you’re not in the middle of a lecture.

“Not now.”

“But this lesson is boring,” he whines, poking your side with his elbow.  

You huff, covering it with a cough when you realize it is too loud, and then take a sip from your bottle of water.

“You didn’t answer,” Haechan insists, this time poking your arm with the cap of the pencil. 

“I picked one,” you mutter, pointing at the paper with your head.  

“Elaborate and change my mind.”

“You think it’s the first one?” You say in disbelief, the utter shock causing the tone of your voice to be louder than you expected.

“Any problems there?” The Professor asks, and you feel your blood freeze.

“Mh, no, nothing, my pen has no more ink, I was asking for another one,” you lie, thanking God you two are sitting far in the back of the class and the Professor can’t hear and can’t see that your pen isn’t dead at all. So, with a suspicious nod, the middle-aged man goes on with the lecture while Haechan giggles beside you.

You glare at him, and he shrugs raising his hands. “If you kept quiet, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“If you let me concentrate on the lesson instead of asking dumb questions, it wouldn’t have happened,” you retort, and he laughs under his breath again, but doesn’t ask more questions. He still ruins your notes with ugly flowers and other drabbles and you let him be because at least he’s being silent and paying attention.

“So, you really are giving up,” you say when the bell rings and the class starts emptying.

“What makes you think that?” He asks, putting his things in his bag, just like you.

“You didn’t write anything down.”

Haechan shrugs. “Why would I? I have your notes.”

“No, you don’t,” you say but before you can realize he rips the notebook from your hands and snaps a picture of the two pages you wrote. “Hey! That’s not fair. That’s my work.”

“Your amazing summarizing skills and my artistic skills. I don’t gift beautiful sunflowers to just anybody.”

“Beautiful sunflowers?” You snicker, starting to walk down the stairs, pushing the notebook into your bag as Haechan follows at your side. “If Renjun saw them he would have a heart attack.”

“Can’t compare Vang Gogh to Picasso.”

“Keep Picasso out of your mouth,” you say threateningly.

“Still, aren’t you happy you will think of me while studying?” He bats his lashes, and you hold back an entertained grin.

“Can’t wait to go through the absolute most painful ulcers every time I glance down on those things.”

He gasps offended, bringing a hand on his chest. “See, this is what happens when you spend all your days on socials and your brain doesn’t know how to appreciate real art anymore.”

“You are so annoying, and distracting. Next time if you sit next to me, I’ll push you off the chair,” you warn, and only when a colder blow of wind hits you, you realize you’re walking back to your places together.

“Right!” He says and you think it’s the good time he leaves you alone, but no, he’s not done. “You didn’t explain why the dog would wear it only on its hind legs.”

“Is it really that serious? Why do you want to know so badly?”

“It’s funny. I’m sick and tired of hearing you only discuss music, sociology, and the media and other stuff.”

You sigh. But you still have a bit to walk, so you might as well have to deal with him and his hypothesis about dogs. “Because pants have to cover your lower body, so legs, and ass and everything else. If you wear them like the first option, half of the ass is out. And also, the back limbs correspond to our legs, we’re divided in half horizontally, not vertically.”

He doesn’t reply right away, processing your answer. And you think you broke him.

“Oh!” You exclaim. “Zootopia, animals wear clothes like the second picture.”

“Really? You had a whole statement that made perfect sense and then you added a cartoon to your thesis?”

“But it still makes sense,” you argue back. “And, most importantly, I made you agree with me,” you wink before stopping when you reach your complex.

“Fine, fine, you’re right,” he gives up before looking behind you. “You live here?”

You nod, searching for the keys in the tote bag, and you think it’s time to stop pretending that’s Mary Poppins’ bag and throw away some useless stuff.

“I thought there were only rooms here,” he states, looking at the big complex a few meters away from the university.  

“There are common dormitories, and then there are some one-room flats. I got one with a scholarship when I graduated. It’s less expensive than an apartment and I get a small place all to myself.”

“Oh,” he whispers. He doesn’t know why he thought you had roommates. “So, you’re alone, alone?”

“No, you can’t come in,” you say.

“I didn’t ask that,” he frowns, offended you would even imply that. “I thought you… well, oh, never mind.”

“Yes, I’m alone, so I can do whatever the hell I want. If I want to cook, I cook. If I want to stay up all night to study, I do that. If I want to dry the clothes in the middle of the living room, that is also the bedroom and the kitchen, I do that.”

“Is it really that small?”

“It’s decent, I guess. It’s spacious enough to live in it comfortably but not big to the point I have to waste days cleaning it.”

“Maybe we could study there, no loud roommates screaming in the living room.”

“I like the mess of your place, and I’ll be there Friday.”

Haechan rolls his eyes. “Come on, I hate the library. Can’t we for once study at your place?”

“I never invited you to my studying sessions,” you groan.

“But you love it.”

“No.”

“Yes, you have an orgasm every time you know something better than me.”

“Please, shut up,” you wave him off, starting to walk away.

“I don’t care, I’ll be here tomorrow,” he screams when you’re too far, clearly running away from him.  

“And I’ll be at the library!”

You never go to the library, to be honest, you were just unlucky enough that the washing machine thought it was the right moment to leak all over the floor and Haechan found you at home with your coat on the couch, the tote bag next to the door and your jeans half soaked as you tried to fix the mess on the pavement.

From that moment, your meet-ups become more and more periodic, whether it’s at your place, his or at the library. You hate to admit it, but the competition drives you forward, and you love seeing his face every time you defeat him somehow.

“Are you busy this Saturday?” He asks while he strums with the guitar to come up with a chord progression for your song.

“Yeah, why?” You reply, poking the cap of the pen to your cheeks, drifting your eyes on him.

“Want to go out with me?”

“What? Saturday is my day to study and do my things like I want to,” you say. It was the only day, along with Sunday, you had to fix all your notes without being wrecked from the lessons of the day, or listen to lessons while cleaning the house, and so on. You tried to squeeze everything there so Sunday could be your free day and you could dedicate it to your hobbies and to write for the magazine you worked for, nothing too serious, just some money to add to the survival costs that your parents would send you, and the monthly entrance you had when you would get called to help a dance studio downtown.

“Great, we’re going out tomorrow.”

You huff, slumping back on the chair. “No, we’re not. I’m busy.”

“You can take one afternoon for me,” he replies, placing the instrument next to him. “Come on, it will be fun.”

“Where would you even take me?”

Haechan smirks. “It’s a surprise.”

When Saturday afternoon arrives, you don’t know how to feel. You spent the whole night trying to find a positive thing about it, and the good thing is that for once you are leaving the house to do something funny —you hoped so— not all by yourself. The bad thing is that the person you are going to do this thing with is Haechan.

You try not to worry about it too much, he’s not that bad when he wants to, and he’s funnier than you’d like to admit, so maybe taking a small break from the obsessive studying and tidying, will do you some good.

When you hear the knocks on the door, you grab your coat and your bag and head to open it.

“Hi,” he says. “Anything to fix before we leave?”

“Don’t say that, they will hear you and break all together.”

Haechan laughs, briefly looking at your body, mostly covered because it’s still cold outside and you have way too many layers on you. “Toy Story for home appliances?”

“Yeah, that would be my life,” you reply, closing the door behind you and walking outside of the complex. “So, where are you taking me?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise,” he says. “Don’t expect anything big, I just don’t want to hear you nag about it.”

“Hey, I appreciate almost everything.”

“Yeah, it’s the almost that worries me,” he says. “Hop in the car.”

“You have a car?”

“Yeah, it’s right in front of your eyes,” he answers, gesturing to the space next to you.  

You turn around, holding back a laugh when you see the old blue car, it’s surely a Hyundai, you have no idea about the model, but you know for sure it’s falling apart. “This is the car?”

“Yes, I’m sorry I’m poor.”

“It will get us killed,” you say opening the door, letting out a breath of relief when the handle doesn’t stay in your hold.

Haechan rolls his eyes and sits in. “Can you don’t be overdramatic for one second?”

“I’m stating facts. Are the airbags still working? Is the oil level high enough? The battery? And the water for —” Your eyes widen when his lips crash on yours. At first, it’s a harsh attempt to shut you up, but then his lips shily go for more, moving along yours with a small flame of need.

“I won’t kill you, but please shut up,” he begs when he pulls away, sooner than you want to, later than he should’ve.  

You gulp, trying to shake the dizziness and the way his kiss made you feel lightweight. You might occasionally still want to wrap your hand around his neck but he’s quite good at being a charmer.

“I’m giving you the privilege to pick the music,” he says once you’re on the open road, the lights of the city shine against the windows and the other cars pass beside you.

“Yeah, can I connect my Spotify to the car? Oh, wait, this model from the future directly brings the singers into your backseats so you can have a live concert,” you joke after seeing the car radio.  

“Wanted to take the metro?”

You laugh. “No, I’m just… why did you say that as if I could connect the aux or the Bluetooth? It was funny.”

“Fine, you’re forgiven,” he says. “Just play it through your phone.”

You hum, already deep into the scrolling of your music catalogue. “Can I put my driving playlist?”

“You have a car?”

“No, I have a driving playlist.”

“Why would you have a driving playlist if you don’t have a car?”

“Because right now it comes useful,” you wink, pressing play without waiting for his answer.

Haechan smiles, quickly glancing at you before his attention is fully on the road. “Baekhyun?” He asks with surprise when the second song starts. “You listen to Baekhyun?”

“Everybody should listen to him,” you reply, already getting defensive because his next words could be the last straw of your ‘relationship.’

“Oh God,” he whispers.

“If you tell me you’re a hater I’m jumping out of the running car and changing the trajectory of your life forever,” you warn, turning to the side to have a better view of him.

“Me? A Baekhyun hater? He’s my father! I just can’t believe you have some sort of sense and taste.”

You slap his shoulder, making the both of you break into a light-hearted laugh.

“You scared me for a second,” you say, placing your hand on your beating heart.  

“Sorry. So, it turns out we have one thing in common,” he jokes, creases creating at the corner of his eyes as his features soften and a genuine smile blooms on his face.

You shrug. “I mean, we have many things in common, actually. That’s why we get along so badly. Maybe it’s true, opposite attracts and that’s why we don’t attract.”

“I think we do attract… proved it a few times.”

“Once,” you reply immediately.

“Twice, with the kiss…”

“You did that to shut me up.”

“I don’t shut up just…” anybody… “I felt like kissing you.”

You smirk, loving watching him struggle. “Nothing wrong to admit you find me attractive,” you tease.

“Unfortunately, your mouth ruins everything.”

“My mouth is the thing that attracts you the most about me, or else you wouldn’t keep lingering around me like bees on honey.”

“Bees make honey, they’re not attracted to it. Bears are.”

“Yeah, you look like a bear, you know?”

He glares at you, and you laugh. “Bears are cute.”

“And attracted to honey.”

“And do I look like honey?” You ask teasingly. “Wait! You always call me honey!”

“It’s a mockery honey, not a sweet honey. You’re not my honey.”

You think about it. “You’re not my honey… could be a line of our song.”

“No academy talking today. It’s forbidden. You have to forget about uni.”

“Fine, I’ll forget about it just for today.”

The dates with Haechan, you can call them dates, right? Well, anyway, whatever they are, they become more common. At first, you tried to reject his weird, most of the time, last minute, proposal, because they would throw in the air all of your plans, but after a while, you somehow still found a way to go back on track without screwing up your academic goals.

“Why don’t you stay?” Haechan asks. It’s another Friday afternoon, and you two met up to go on with the song’s project. Much to your dismay, you have to admit you are the one who’s holding you two back. It’s like words can’t come out of you, not like you want to, at least. But Haechan’s not mad at you. Actually, you like the atmosphere around you when you lock in his room for those sessions. One time, he even made you try edibles to see if you could come up with something, but you ended up making out on the floor instead, so you stopped going for that path.

“I don’t know,” you say, huffing when you glance at the words in front of you and remind yourself that they don’t make sense. “I was thinking of going home and maybe listening to your tracks and…”

“Come up with something?” He drags the chair closer to you and steals your papers to read them. “It’s not as bad as you made it to be.”

“Yeah, it’s a good song, but it’s basic. And I feel like it’s a bit… cliché.”

“You do know that everything has already been written?” He jokes, but it’s not a teasing remark, it’s the truth, and he’s genuinely trying to lift your spirit.  

“I know, but it’s not my style, this is not how I usually write, I —”

“You write?” He stops you and only then you realize what you said. “Like, you have written songs before?”

You nod, shame pervading you when he stares at you with an expression you can’t comprehend. “Are you going to make fun of me?”

“No, I just thought you preferred lyrics over production, but I had no idea you were a lyricist.”

“Now, lyricist… I try, sometimes…”

Haechan smirks, poking your tummy making you cover it with your arms. “So there is something you’re insecure about.”

“Oh, I knew you were going to have a ball about this,” you groan, rolling your head back.

“No, hey, it’s just… I’ve never seen you like this about something you do. You are confident, usually,” he explains with no hint of mockery in his voice.

You sigh, looking at your feet tapping the ground and then look back at him. “It’s just… very personal,” you confess. “I think it’s clear I don’t have lots of friends. I used to, back at home, but here I’m alone. But even back then I’ve always felt like there was something I couldn’t completely let out. That’s why I love dancing, I can express myself in a different way, but I found out it still wasn’t enough and when I started playing the piano again I… started writing. It started almost as a joke, and it was a cheesy break-up song when my ex cheated on me, like the cheap version of drivers license,” you joke and he laughs with you.

“But it was still better than this, I guess?”

You hum, shaking your head. “Nah, my first song was a mess, but then it was like I just couldn’t stop writing, so my songs became my diary. Every time something happens, I write about it.”

He hums, moving the chair closer until your legs intertwine. “So, to write a love song you would need to fall in love?”

You’re taken aback by his question, and don’t reply right away. “No, I just need to be inspired. I’ll watch some movies, and it will come to me.”

His face twists in mild disgust as he shakes his head. “Movies are fake, it’s better to live things on your skin.”

“I don’t have time to date, and I can’t just find someone that easily,” you say laughing. “But don’t worry, I won’t make us fail. I’ll try to edit this and make it work if I really can’t come up with anything else.”

Haechan is not convinced, it’s clear in his face and the way his leg is bouncing nervously, but he doesn’t get back on the conversation. “Are you staying?”

“I have some notes to edit and —”

“You have tomorrow,” he cuts you off. “Come on, I have to do it too.”

You groan, hating the way you can’t say no to his big eyes staring at you. “Fine, but not too much.”

It’s useless to say that none of you get those notes written better.

“God, are you fucking Professor Kim?” Haechan growls, grabbing your wrist and stopping you in the college corridors right out of Music History class, the last lesson of Tuesday.

“What?” You babble out, surprised by his angry tone and his speculation.

“No cause you’re his favourite and it’s driving me insane,” he utters under his breath, glaring at you.

“I’m his favourite?” You tease, tilting your head to the side, loving the fire that turned on between you two. It had been three calm months, the bickerings were too intellectual and you missed this.

“Yeah, I gave him the exact same answer and he found the tiniest thing to say I wasn’t right, just so he could hear yours instead and praise you.”

“Oh, poor baby boy, Professor Kim didn’t give you head pats and now you’re mad?” You pout, patting his head in a mockery gesture. 

Haechan groans, throwing his head back, and pushing you into the nearest empty class, closing the door behind.

“Haechan, what are y—”

“Shh,” he says, shushing you with a stern gaze and a squeeze of your wrist. “You passed by his office the other day, didn’t you? Needed extracurricular help ‘cause you didn’t understand something,” he mocks with a high-pitched voice. “Taught you how to play his flute in a historically accurate way?”

You’d love to laugh at his terrible blowjob-music reference but when his gaze darkens, you only chuckle, and that’s enough to drive him mad.

“God, for you is just a game, isn’t it?”

“You really think I fucked Professor Kim?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure he fantasizes about having you bent over his desk and, fuck, it drives me mad.”

“You wish he fantasized about having you bent on his desk?” You joke, smirking.

He groans. “No, I hate the way he looks at you, and talks to you, the last thing he had to do today was to call you a good girl in front of the whole class.”

Your lips curl in an amused grin, but your heart —and something else— flutter at the way he says ‘good girl,’ you try not to show it and go on with your teasing. “Not my fault I’m good, and I’m interested in his subject.”

“Your fault you lick his boots,” he groans, pushing you flat against the door, standing so close to your nose. “I know you’re smart and you don’t need to ride a dick to be first in class but…” he stops, inhaling your scent, and leaning against your forehead.

You lift his head with two fingers under his chin, and lean in, whispering, “you still want to see me bent over a desk, and you want to be the one railing me, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t reply, not verbally at least. The only answer is a guttural moan and two arms lifting you, making your legs wrap around his waist as he kisses you roughly.

“Hyuck,” you moan into the kiss when he starts walking toward the desk, sitting you on the edge.

“Yeah?”

“We can’t — we — this is, we can get expelled…”

He snickers. “Be quiet and nobody will even hear us.”

“What if they lock us inside?”

“Shut up,” he groans again, kissing you another time as his bag drops on the floor. “You drive me so fucking mad, you have no idea.”

You snicker under your breath, but your heart loses a beat when his hands roam on your thighs, moving closer and closer to your heat. “Wait,” you whisper.

“Wait, what?” He hums, cupping your chin and lowering your head, staring straight into your eyes. Haechan scoffs when your thighs squeeze against each other and he can see you gulping. “Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he whispers, leaning closer to your lips, making you believe he’ll kiss you, but you only get a taste of his thumb rubbing over your full lips, “don’t act like you don’t want me.”

“Haechan!” You scream when he rips off your tights, the tear of the fabric resonating in the room as you look down in shock. “I’m gonna kill you,” you groan but he’s not bothered in the slightest.

“They were getting in the way, and I get rid of everything that gets in my way,” he says with a smirk.

You laugh mockingly. “Then why am I still here?”

His brows furrow and a small pout forms on his face but he shrugs it off. “I’m taking care of you, I told you,” he groans, kissing you harshly. “You’re not winning the war.”

“Oh, and your military strategy is to fuck me?”

“Yeah, until you forget everything.”

You huff loudly when he finishes ripping the tights from your legs, the only pieces left the ones trapped in your shoes, and you’re glad the skirt is long enough to don’t make you freeze on the way back home.

“So much better,” he says proudly, staring at his work of art, letting his hands wander on your now bare skin. “And, now, let’s find out if there’s a way to shut you up.”

You look at him in anticipation, waiting for his next move as if your life depends on it. And you hate to be so eager, you hate you fantasized on it more than you should’ve, but you want to know what his lips feel like. And it’s almost as if Haechan hears your secret thoughts.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He taunts, kneading his fingers on your flesh.

“Nothing,” you mutter, trying to sound more confident than what you are.

Haechan laughs at you, shaking his head as he slowly gets on his knees, looking up at you. “You are always so fucking proud and annoying.” His hands rest on your knees before he pushes them far apart, forcing you in place as you uselessly try to close your legs. He tsk, shaking his head. “Don’t act ashamed, I’ve already felt you, and tasted you.”

You don’t reply. It’s hard to keep eye contact but this is bigger than sex, this is a game between you two and, he might not beat you in class, but he’s beating you right now.

His laugh brings you back to earth and you hate the smug smirk that’s sitting on his face. “So you do get quiet, thought I needed to give you a taste of my mouth to shut you up.”

You open your mouth to retort but the stern glare that flashes on his face is enough to put you back in your place.

“Good girl,” he says and your body trembles before you can even try to hide it. “Should I get a better taste of you?” He stares at you, waiting for an answer that doesn’t come, not like he wants to at least. “Use your words, babe. You know how to run that mouth when you want to, so, beg for it.”

“Fuck, no,” you retort, trying to move away but his hold on you doesn’t give any signs of loosening up.

“Okay, then,” he says, slowly standing up, and grabbing his bag. “See you around.”

“What?” You squeal, grabbing his wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving,” he replies, shrugging.

“That’s not fair,” you reply, and he snickers.

“What? Are you wet? Do you want me?”

You don’t expect that reply and struggle to find the words, even more now that he’s standing between your open legs, keeping them apart, and his eyes are staring down at you, pinning you down in place. “I don’t want you,” you lie, swallowing the gulp in your throat when his right hand sits on your waist. “I just… I want to fuck.”

“Oh, do you? Well, there are plenty of people here, I’m sure many of them would want you. You know, even if you don’t pay attention to anybody, people look at you,” he whispers, caressing your jaw with his other hand. “First on the list is Professor Kim. Don’t you want to feel the thrill? Come on, go to his office now, so I can have something to hold against you forever.”

You chuckle. “Yeah? Want to blackmail me so I can do all the essays for you? Maybe you’ll get the best grades like this,” you tease, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt and making him groan.

He licks his lips, staring at yours, and you smirk. “I don’t need you to be first, and you know it.”  

“Do I?” you tease. “Want to be first at something?”

“Don’t,” Haechan warns, eyes darkening even more while the tent in his tight pants becomes even more evident.

“What? You can be the first one who fucks me on a desk if you quit playing hard to get.”

“I’m not playing hard to get,” he replies, leaning even closer, your bodies are pressed together and you can feel his hard dick press against you. “I won’t be the one begging, especially to eat you out,” he groans, cupping your chin unexpectedly. “Don’t act as if you didn’t think of this before. I’ve seen the way you get lost in my fingers when we study together. You see me twirl a pen in my hand and you wish I was inside you, don’t you? And when we argue? There’s always a small fragment where you lose focus and stare at my lips. Where do you want them, honey?”

Your brows furrow but your entire body reacts differently, a small shake, while wetness pools down your panties, soaking them even more, and your eyes close because you can’t bear his smug glare.

“I said,” he urges, giving a quick squeeze to your chin, “where do you want my lips?”

“On — on me,” you breathe out, voice muffled by the firm hold on your face.

His lips twitch as he leans closer and kisses your cheek. “Here,” he says, holding back a laugh when your eyes widen. “That was where you wanted them, right?”

“Oh, fuck off, you know what I meant,” you huff.

“No, I’m the dumb one, remember? You are smarter than me, you know everything. I’m always a step behind, I need you to guide me step by step,” he mocks in a condescending tone, pouting.

You take a deep breath. “I hate you.”

“Oh, I know,” he laughs. “But if you use just three magic words I’m sure you’re going to love me for a while.”

You don’t want to give up but you’re on fire, and you fear that the more time passes by the more someone could find you out.

“I’ll ask nicely one last time,” he whispers against your lips. “Then I’ll ask you to do something for me and you’ll lose my lips for the second time. Where do you want them?”

“On my pussy,” you whisper, not meeting his eyes.

“Fucking finally,” he laughs. “Was it so hard Miss big brain?”

“Stop mocking me!”

“Mocking you?” He asks, getting on his knees again before grabbing your panties to pull them down. “I might hate you but it would be dumb to not recognize your qualities, right?”

You don’t reply, you have other things to worry about. For example, your mortal enemies kneeled between your legs in an empty class of your Academy, staring into your soul, ready to eat you out.

“So, since you’re so good with words, here we go again. Beg.” Haechan craves putting his lips on you just as you do, but this is the only moment he can have some power over you. And after the humiliation of today’s class, he has to make you pay for it a bit. Or maybe he just wants to hear that even if you’d choke him and slap him, you still want him.

“Please, Donghyuck, please,” you plead, looking into his eyes.

He’d love to hear you beg for him more, but the way your cunt is dripping on the desk is already enough to tell him how much you want him, and for now, it’s enough.

When his lips come in contact with your skin your legs immediately hook around his shoulders and you can feel the chuckle on your wet folds.

“Eager, honey?”

“Just, please, eat me out already,” you barely have time to finish that he stops playing around and starts moving his mouth on you. Your head falls behind while your thighs squeeze tighter around his face. Your hands clench on the edge of the desk as you try to keep your balance, but it gets harder with every lick of his tongue.

“Keep quiet, the door is closed not locked,” he reminds you, pulling away from you just to pick up again.

You try to don’t be too loud, but he’s better than you expected and maybe this was the wrong time to try this out. You should’ve simply begged him to fuck you, but now that you’re in the middle of this, the last thing you want is to stop him.

One of your hands is brave enough to let go of the hold on the desk and reach his hair to push him closer to your body, surprising him.

Haechan always thought you were much more shy than this, honestly, he didn’t even hope much for this to happen. But you surprise him, not only you let him have you in a random class at your university but you are also pushing him closer.

“You are eager,” he muffles against you, he can’t pull away when you’re pressing him down with so much force, but the way you’re acting is setting him on fire. He loves hearing you moan and whimper, not a word coming out of your pretty lips to confront him, just bliss on your face and voice. And that pushes him to give you even more, putting his entire self into eating you out until he almost drags screams out of you, making both of you forget where you are.

You’re not sure how many minutes pass by but when the orgasm rushes in your body you feel it’s too close. You’d probably force him down for another round if you were in any other place but you don’t feel brave enough.

“So? Disappointed?” He asks, cleaning his chin as he stands up, reaching you again. “Don’t lie, you’re still dripping down the desk, you’re even more turned on than last time.”

“I’m not,” you lie. You know you are, and Haechan knows it too.

“What is it? The thrill of being caught? My skills? Just me, or something else?”

You don’t know why you reply with what you reply, but you do. “Maybe someone else,” you tease, not even sure he’ll take the bait, but he’s too caught up in you to see the games you’re playing.

“Yeah? And who’s that?”

“See, I always believed you were perspicacious and could catch details, I can’t believe you didn’t get it. You’re so sure Professor Kim wants to fuck me, ever thought I want him too?” You bat your lashes and Haechan tries to silence a groan, but you feel his fists clench at your sides.

“Don’t play with me, I’m not falling for this.”

You shrug. “Fine, I’ll still think about him while you fuck m—” he shuts you up with a rough kiss, pushing you down the desk with a quick movement that makes your heart jump to your throat.

“He’s not even that hot,” he groans, turning you around before bending you on the desk, and pulling your skirt up around your waist. “And he’s not even that old, there’s not even the charm of the dilf.”

“He’s smart,” you talk back, not sure how much you can pull your luck.

Haechan scoffs, slapping your ass. “Not smarter than me.”

“You’re not the professor so…”

“A degree means nothing,” he says, his chest pressing against your back. “What’s that you like so much about him?”

You chuckle. You’re not sure if he’s playing into your game or is just so easy to fool, but either way, you decide to keep going. “Everything. Don’t you see him?”

Haechan groans. Out of all the people, out of all the professors, he has a very personal beef with him that started at the start of the year and the way you just praise him so much —even outside of this specific situation where he got you’re messing up with him— drives him insane.

“Because he’s the best at everything? Isn’t he?”

You nod, expecting him to talk back but the only answer you get is the sharp sound of his belt being pulled away from his pants and smacked against your ass. “Fuck,” you curse, hating the way your body buzzes with pleasure at the impact.

Haechan chuckles. “I wonder what he would think of you if he saw you like this.”

“He wouldn’t think,” you say. “He’d act, fucking me like I deserve instead of wasting time like you.”

When his cock fills you up with no warning you almost scream but his hand is quicker at reaching your mouth.

“Yeah, would he fuck you better?”

You groan in his hand, but your brain goes blank with each thrust into you, pulling his hips back before he snaps them forward, so forcefully that you slide upward on the desk and he has to pull you down so that your hips don’t hit the wood.

“Answer me,” he urges, making a makeshift ponytail with your hair to force you up. “Would he?”

“I… I don’t know,” you cry out, feeling him deep inside of you, filling you perfectly.  

“You just have to test me until I snap, don’t you?”

“He seems —fuck— fitter than you.”

Haechan snickers mockingly. “Yes? You want to be thrown around? Like you’re worth nothing? Do I have to do that to make you feel good?”

You shake your head, ass perking up, your feet on their tips as you try to keep balance.

“No? Is being fucked in a class enough for you? Does it satisfy your needs?” He hisses, eyes rolling back when he focuses them where your bodies meet, your cum dripping down his length and balls. He can’t believe how turned on you are. “Thought you were innocent but look at you.”

“Not my fault you don’t catch details,” you retort with a small bit of sanity —not really— you have in you.

“Details? Or maybe you’re just an actress. Making everyone believe you only think about grades and studies and here you are, drooling while I fuck you over a desk. Begging for my dick.”

You don’t even realize you are drooling down the desk and when you’re about to clean your chin, Haechan grabs your hands and pins them in place behind your back.

“No,” you whimper, falling flat with your chest pressing down the wooden table.  

“Yes, honey,” he mocks. “I want to see you become a mess for me. Should I take a snap of you like this? Send it to Professor Kim so he can see he will never have you like this?” He whispers against your ear. “Think I don’t know it was all a play? Not only you don’t like him, but you wouldn’t risk your reputation for a terrible fuck when you have a brain like yours.”

Your pussy clenches. It’s the way his voice sounds like velvet, it’s how deep it’s hitting you, it’s in his words, and the way it turns you on that your number one rival, the one that despises you, still knows your value.

“Still, I’m pretty sure he wishes he could see you like this,” he adds, biting your earlobe. “A shame he can’t, right?”

“Y-yes,” you mumble in a pathetic wail.   

“But maybe I could still keep it to myself,” his hips start moving with more force and you can’t hold back your moans as you clench around him. “Yeah? Want me to take a photo of you like this?”

You wish you could reply but words just don’t come out of your lips, brain emptying and eyes rolled back in your skull.

“Maybe another time,” he says, breath getting ragged as he keeps fucking into you with determination. “Don’t really want to pull away to take a pic of us.”

“There — there won’t be —fuck— another time,” you reply, forcing yourself to speak.   

Haechan snickers. “The mess between your legs tells me otherwise,” he mocks, reaching in front of you to play with your clit, making you shake. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, you deserve good things, even a good fuck from me.”

“Too much,” you cry out, feeling your eyes getting wetter as the orgasm starts choking you.

“No, you just haven’t had a decent orgasm in ages,” he retorts.

“Shut up! You know —shit— you know nothing.”

“Honey, I can only imagine you playing with yourself, but your hands or toys don’t come close to me,” he says, so smugly you can feel the smirk on his face.  And you can’t even retort because —as much as you hate it— he’s right.

“Come here,” he says, putting a hand over your shoulders to pull you closer to him. “Are you close?”

You nod, biting your lower lip until it bleeds because you’re sure the sound of your ass slamming against his hips is already a giveaway of what’s going on inside this room. You clench around him when he bites down your shoulder to muffle a louder groan as his hips start moving faster as he chases his climax.

You feel your legs give up as the second orgasm hits you and you hold against the desk again because you don’t know where else to hold on to. Haechan tries to keep his curses low, sticking his face in the crook of your neck and you feel you could come again just by his voice alone; his moans the pretties sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Oh god,” you breathe out when he gently lets go of your body and you can relax on the hard surface again, squirming in discomfort when he pulls out of you.

“I hope you didn’t tear my panties apart, too,” you say, rolling on your back, making him laugh.

“Don’t move, you’ll stain the skirt, it’s the only clean thing on the table,” he says, grabbing a napkin to prevent you from making even more of a mess.

“And who’s fault is that?” You ask, glaring at him.

“You should just thank me for the orgasm, better, two orgasms, I gave you.”

You huff, rolling your eyes, but still letting him clean you up, after all, the cum was his, so it’s his place to clean it. After you’re sure you won’t ruin the last untouched piece of clothes you have, you sit up, taking your —uncomfortably— wet panties to put them on.

“So…” he whispers as he cleans up the rest of the mess on the table and shoves your broken tights in his bag, “it was just for fun, right? You have no intentions with Mr…”

You break down laughing. “You’re so easy to fool. You seriously think I’ll ever let him see me like this?”

Haechan scoffs, finishing fixing his clothes before walking to the door. “It’s not about what you would do, is if you think of him.”

“I don’t,” you reply, following him even if you feel like your legs could give up any second. “I wonder if your jealousy was also a play,” you tease, nudging him as you two walk down the corridor to leave.

“It wasn’t jealousy, you would just have terrible taste if you truly liked him, and I have beef with him.”

You chuckle, deciding to believe him.

“Wait,” he says, stopping to search for something in his bag.

“I’ll go for the door, reach me,” you say, starting to head on, you’re not even sure you two could be there at that time. “Lee Donghyuck,” you curse when you try to push open the front door. “What did I say?”

He walks toward you nonchalantly and shrugs. “Yeah?”

“They locked us in!”

He smiles, shaking his head, and grabbing your hand. “Can you run?”

“What?” You blink a few times, trying to understand how his question fits the situation.

“After I fucked you like that, can you run?”

“Shush,” you scold, fearful someone might hear, you’re not sure who since you seem to be completely alone, but better safe than sorry. “And no, I don’t know, I… why would we run?”

“Do you trust me?” He asks, reaching out his hand for you to take.

“No,” you say resolutely.  

“Good,” he smirks before he starts running into the corridors, giving you no chance but to follow him, cursing and damming every life decision that led you here, with cum threatening to leak out of you after you finished having sex in the class of your Academy and are now running to go God knows where, locked inside the institute.

“Hyuck!” You scream when he runs up the stairs and you swear you never felt so much adrenaline rush in your blood but when he looks back for a second and shows you his big bright smile with his hair falling in his face perfectly, you swear the world stops and all your worries are lifted from your shoulders. Maybe you trust him. Maybe you need to be this carefree sometimes.

Your heart jumps in your throat when he pushes open an emergency door and the mild breeze of March runs over you. You breathe in deeply, pushing into your lungs the air and the first early spring scent, letting the wind play with your hair and your clothes while your hand never lets go of his.

And then you both start laughing. Never looking back, and terribly looking forward, watching your steps as you run down the emergency stairs. You laugh, and you’re happy and you can’t believe your fingers are still intertwined with the ones of your mortal enemy.

When you reach the ground floor, hidden in the back of the palace where the sun doesn’t shine, there are still some tears spilling out of your eyes. You two pant, trying to catch your breath, and look at each other before you have to look away or else you will start laughing again.

You can’t believe you followed him blindly.

Your hands are still intertwined.

With each passing day, Haechan is convinced he has a perfect plan. It’s all part of the original plan, but if he gets you to try out romantic things, not only will he distract you from your perfect grades but he will also make you come up with a song that will give him a perfect score.

There are some small details that Haechan didn’t even consider. Detail number 1: where this could lead you two and your relationship. Detail number 2: that while distracting you, he will inevitably distract himself. But he doesn’t get it until it’s too late.

Haechan can’t remember when you started to dress up so much every time you hang out. You always dress well, or maybe he is biased for thinking that even the most basic white turtleneck shirt and cargo pants when you are too done with life to put up your skirts, dresses, or cutely styled other types of outfits, look amazing on you. Yet, during these last few dates, you started doing more, playing more with your hairstyles, trying different make-up, and always looking perfect in whatever clothes you put on your body.

Haechan hates you. Now more than ever because this was supposed to be your silly little race to the top of your second academic year and yet here he is, feeling his heart pound in his throat as you walk toward him. With your hair in a slicked-back ponytail, a freaking heart-shaped side part, your short red dress, while the white cardigan covers your arms and shields you from the light breeze, and your red short heels tap on the asphalt and bring his attention to the white socks that reach you right below your knees, while your hand clench around a heart-shaped bag.

He hates you because he wants you too badly and he’s terrified this is crossing the lines of bland and stupid physical attraction.

You smile, calling him Hyuck and he’d love to scream because he can’t be so smart and yet so dumb at the same time. But he tries to ignore it, and smiles back at you, addressing you with your surname so he can put some distance between you. You don’t even get mad anymore, it makes you smile tenderly as you lower your face to the ground and tangle your arm with his to walk to the car. Now he hopes that the old sardine can will make you two blow up, not to kill you, but to don’t make you accept a date from him anymore.

But that old car struggles but doesn’t crash, and drives you to the restaurant safely.

“This place is so pretty,” your voice rings in his ears, bringing him out of the thought he’s struggling with since you walked out of your apartment.

“Yeah, it’s musically themed, thought it was a good idea.”

“And the dishes also have song names? That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” your face lightens up when you scan the menu and in reflection, he does too.

What the fuck are you doing? He curses when he catches himself lost on you, too focused giggling like a child as you catch the references between the songs and the plates. You look like a cliché embodiment of love, and he thinks you’ve done it on purpose. It’s way past Valentine’s Day, but he feels that Cupid is flying right above you, ready to play him a dirty trick.

“So? You picked?” You ask, bringing him out of his thoughts, and he shakes his head, coughing while glueing his eyes on the menu.

“Nope, I’m a bit uncertain,” he says, pretending he wasn’t just too busy staring at you a few moments ago.

You laugh, humming. “Oh, I know.”

“What did you get?” He asks, meeting your eyes above the paper in his hand.

“I wanted to get the Summer 69’ appetizer first,” you reply and he smirks.

“Are you hinting at something?”

“Oh, shut up, you perv! It just looks tasty, there are different appetizers from different parts of the world and it’s a cold start.”

“Then we can take the big one so we can share?”

“Sure,” you reply, smiling at him. “Oh, and then ‘I wanna dance with somebody’ as the main dish.”

“Do you?” He winks.

“I’m not sending you signals, I’m just starving,” you reply, rolling your eyes, but he hears the low giggle that you try to hold back.

“Fine,” he smiles. “I’ll take ‘Maneater’ in your honour.”

“I’m a maneater? Oh, thanks, the best compliment ever actually,” you say playfully.

He smiles, stopping for a second after he hands you his menu. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way.” And when your mouth parts and no sound come out of it, he thinks he screwed it up. It’s not the first time he compliments you but well, the other times didn’t sound so serious.

But then your face breaks in a smile, and your eyes light up, shily diverting the gaze as you thank him before the waitress saves you both from the embarrassment that’s tangible in the air.

“Karaoke? Are you being extremely nice, borderline perfect, tonight so you can show me the biggest twist ever?” You gasp when the karaoke downtown enters your line of view. You’ve been walking for a while now since he couldn’t find a spot nearby, but he never mentioned where your next stop would be.

“I’m always nice to you when we go out on da— like this,” Haechan replies, opening the door of the place for you to get in first. “Also, since we’ll have to record the song soon, I think it’s time to test our vocal abilities.”

You giggle, waiting for him before you start walking to the desk to book a room.

“Karaoke is for fun, never to show off you’re like Celine Dion.”

Haechan chuckles, nodding in agreement while you reach the booth that the lady at the counter assigned you.

“Right, I’m more like Ailee, actually,” he jokes, closing the door behind you.

“Prove it to me, I always hear your mouth run to talk shit but never to sing melodies, so…”

“Should we go for a duet?” He asks, starting the TV to scroll down the songs listed.

“Nope,” you say, sitting on the couch. “A solo song first.”

“Fine,” he says, humming as the titles pass in front of your vision. “Mhh, what about Dean?”

“Love him, would love him more if he came back from the death and dropped another album of the year,” you say, sitting back to fully enjoy Haechan’s performance.

He chuckles at your comment. “This one was a painful reminder,” he says before clicking on “Instagram,” making the logo of the place appear before the countdown, signalling the beat was about to start.

You never thought you would find yourself so caught up in him but when he opens his mouth, you feel like you’re being taken to another world.

His voice sounds like honey, so raw yet so lovely. And as he keeps singing, you think that he would be wasted as a producer, a voice like his deserves to be heard by everyone. But when he finishes, you don’t show any of the emotions you felt.

“Your performance was very touching,” you say while standing up to grab your mic, “but I’m a performer, so I’ll go with Queen Britney.”

“Can’t wait to see your Superbowl worth it performance,” he snickers, sitting back against the small couch in the room as he watches you getting ready.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you start, winking at him and swinging your hips to follow the rhythm of the music.

Haechan would love to find it as funny as he does at the start, but when you start singing for real, and moving around in the small boot, he gulps, feeling the air around him starting to dim. And it only gets worse when you turn around and start to perform for him. Of course, you know the song by heart, you don’t need to read the words, and you don’t need them to change colour to know when each verse, chorus and bridge starts.

“Oops, I did it again, I played with your heart,” you wink, tilting your head to the side, still moving your body to the beat. He can’t tell, not right at the moment, but he thinks you’re replicating the choreography. That’s the last worry in his mind.

I played with your heart.

And Haechan thinks you really did that. This doesn’t feel like a game anymore, and not even like sex. He looks at you, even right now, that you’re sensually singing a Britney Spears song, and he can only fucking smile like an idiot.

“Wow,” you exhale when the song ends, fanning yourself with your hand, “it’s really hot in here.”

“It definitely is,” he whispers, drifting his gaze from you.

“So? How was I?” You ask, head tilted to the side, and a big, bright smile on your face.

“Good,” Haechan mutters, catching himself staring at you for too long again, shaking his head, the red blush on his face is humiliating. “You were good.”

“Yes,” you cheer, clapping your hands. “Should we duet, now?”

He hums, grabbing the remote again and searching ‘duets’ in the search bar. “Sad, sexy or silly?”

You roll your eyes. “Really?”

“What? I’m trying to understand the vibe we want to go with.”

“I’ll let you pick,” you say just to regret it when you see the song choice on the screen. “Seriously? Anything you can do?”

“What? It’s fitting for how relationship,” he says nonchalantly.

“That’s a crazy choice.”

“Worried you can’t actually do better than me?” He winks, passing you the mic as the song loads on the screen.

“You’ll see,” you challenge with a glare.

One minute into the song you regret having agreed to that, not remembering the last time you sang like this, but the look on his face when it’s time for you to hold a long note for 15 seconds is worth it. And it keeps going until the end, as you both surprise each other with all the skills that this song requires.  

“Wow, you’re good,” you both say when the song ends and you break down laughing, a sound that grows bigger when the screen lights up to show a perfect score.

“Maybe we make a great couple together,” you say, laying back on the couch, tired from the singing.

Haechan turns to you, smirking and nodding. “I guess we do.”

You sit up, resting your chin on his arm. “Can you take another one?”

“Oh, don’t test me, baby.”

“So, ice cream is good for vocal cords?” You giggle as you walk to the side of the Han River with the ice cream in hand. It seemed like Haechan didn’t want to end the night anytime soon, but you don’t feel like complaining.

“Yeah,” he hums with conviction, licking another stripe of chocolate.  

“On which book you’ve read this scientific fact?”

“The ice cream ghost came to me one night and whispered the secret to my ear,” he jokes, making you laugh.

“Uhm, yeah, I think that ghosts are much more reliable than old men in white coats in a lab,” you joke, but then you remember something you wanted to talk about since you’ve walked out of the karaoke. “Mhh, you know what I was thinking?”

Haechan shakes his head, waiting for you to talk.

“I think we’re going down the wrong path with our song,” you voice out. “Especially me. A warmer, darker, I dare to say more sensual vibe, fits us better.”

Haechan chuckles and you glare at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he giggles, but he can’t lose against you so he goes on. “That’s the production, you know?”

You huff, rolling your eyes, and jumping on the handrail to sit. “I never said it wasn’t important.”

“Whatever,” he snickers. “So I have to scrap everything I’m working on?”

You shake your head, cleaning your hands after swallowing the last bite of the cone. “No, I was thinking about the second base you were working on, the one with the guitars and violins, remember?”

He hums, but he’s dangerously close to you, and you don’t understand why his hands wrap around your waist.

“I think we could use that and —” you gulp when he places his feet on the handrail under you and reaches your height, “and then I can change small things of my — my writing to fit more. What do you think?”

He smiles before it turns into his usual smirk. “I still think you’re worrying too much and you’re not letting it come to you,” he whispers, and the air of his breaths puffs on your lips before he erases the space between you and kisses you.

You feel your breath taken away as you feel like you’re falling behind in the river as the wind blows harder and your hands immediately leave the handrail to reach for him.

You’re not sure that wasn’t an attempted murder from him, but you can’t care when you feel your heart flutter and your legs give up as he deepens the kiss.

“Let it flow,” he whispers, kissing you again, whispering against your lips, “and the song will come at you.”

You know it’s not what he’s talking about, but you kiss him again, this time pushing him down so your feet are on the ground again. Your hands are holding tight on his sweatshirt as you pull him even closer and he does the same wrapping his arms around your frame tighter.

You find yourself in the same position in the living room of his apartment, struggling to make it to his bedroom without waking some of the others up. Not that you care much, it would be fair payback for all the chaos they make when you and Haechan are studying together.

The clothes fall on the floor as quickly as he’s on top of you on the bed.

“I hate that I have to ruin your pretty face,” he whispers, fingers deep inside your sopping wet cunt, pumping in and out painfully slowly as he stares at your face, a cute mix between ecstasy and annoyance because he’s giving you something but not enough. “The red eyeshadow looks really good on you, you know?”

You groan, rolling your head back. “It’s not time for compliments.”

“I’ve been complimenting you all night,” he says, teasing your clit with flicks of his thumb but without giving you much. “It is a shame you will look like a mess once I’m done with you.”

“We can’t be loud,” you say, hating that, for one reason or another, you two always have to keep quiet.

“Nah, Jeno has his headphones on playing games with Yangyang. Renjun has headphones on with music to don’t listen to Jeno. Mark’s not home and not even bombs wake Jaemin up.” The explanation is particularly non-sexy now that he has his fingers inside of you and it doesn’t make you relax much, but you hum nonetheless and beg him to keep going.

“Patience, honey. We’ve got all night,” he smirks.

“Yeah but —”

“Ah, ah,” he says, clicking his tongue and silencing you with a finger on your lips. “What did I tell you before? Let it flow.”

“It was different it was —ugh,” you mumble when he covers your mouth with his hand, eyes widening before they narrow to send him a deadly glare, but he only smirks. He has control now. He always does when he has you underneath him, he still has to fight with you a bit, but you both know this is the only time he can ever win against you. And tonight is special, he wants you to let go of the reins completely, he wants you brainless, because even if your brain is the sexiest thing of you —yeah, yeah, and the thing that is making his college years hell on earth— your brain is also the thing that makes you obsess over the smallest thing and doesn’t make you follow your heart so freely.

Yeah, tonight Donghyuck wants you free, but for the sake of the dirty talking later —and to fool himself he doesn’t care about you that much— he’s going to say he wants you dumb.

And he’s starting strong tonight, his beautiful, long fingers reaching deep inside you, hitting right against your sweet spot, causing so much cum to pool around them and drip down while your pussy clenches hard and your hips buck up to ride the pleasure with him. And you don’t have it in you to fight; it feels too good, especially when he starts rubbing your clit and whispers dirty talk about how well you’re taking him.

Your eyes flutter open, just in time to catch the proud smirk on his face as he stares at your body, you dare to say, in awe. It shouldn’t warm your heart, but it does. You don’t even care if he sees you like a prize he won, right now, because even if he does, you know he only fights hard to win the trophies he cares about. He wants you, he likes you, even. Between the hate and the tension, something about what attracts you two together makes this work. And it’s fine.

“Hyuck,” you breathe out, chest panting and toes curling as you feel the familiar knot in your stomach. But you don’t expect the next words that come out of your mouth. “Kiss me.” When you realize what you said, you anticipate him mocking you, your ears already hear the snicker you know, oh so well, but it never arrives. What arrives are his lips on yours as he leans down, pressing his chest against yours while his fingers keep working wonder inside you.

The kiss is passionate, but not rough like the ones you’re so used to sharing. There’s no anger in it, just need and greed, and chemistry. So much chemistry, your hands have to run in his hair and tug them, making him moan and his dick throb against your thigh.

“I want you so bad,” he slurs against your lips. “I will do some dumb shit one day for you.”

You don’t get what he means. You don’t even know what he could mean by that given the nature of your bond, but his words, mixed with the sultry tone of his voice, are enough to make you come. You barely register the orgasm, hitting you like a singular explosion of a firework, leaving you gasping, exploding as quickly as it came yet slowly running through your bones as the feeling tones down.

Haechan snickers softly. “You love it when I get in trouble for you, don’t you? Even when it’s just a promise.”

Your lips part to reply but he shuts you with a kiss. “No talking, not unless I tell you to. I know everything I need to know, your body tells me that,” he says, grinning like an idiot when he shows you his cum coated fingers, tapping them against your lips, silently ordering you to taste yourself. You would never do that, but tonight it’s like he’s commanding you like a puppet on a string, and you obey. Closing your lips around him and sucking hard.

He smirks, feeling his dick get even harder as he stares at your lips. “That’s what I do to you, pretty girl. And I’m not even started.”

Your pussy throbs in anticipation while he pulls his fingers out. You know he’s one to keep promise, and you can’t wait for what’s to come. But he’s taking too long, and you can feel his hard dick against your leg, so your hand creeps down to touch it.

“You’re not in command tonight, angel,” he says, grabbing your wrist to stop you from moving your hand on him.

“But I want you,” you whine, trying to win him with a pouty look on your face.

It doesn’t work as he pushes your hand over your head and leans in. “Patience, princess. Keep quiet, don’t be greedy and just trust me. Can you do that? Or is it too hard for you?” He groans against your ear, making your hips buck up.

“I — I can,” you whisper but he stops with a glare and your brain replays his words ‘quiet, no words from you tonight,’ and he means it. So you nod, breathing in deeply as you feel weak in the knees for the way he looks at you.

“Good girl,” he says, pushing up to stand between your legs, pushing them open.

When he slips inside you, you gasp, dragging your nails on his back. “Are you alright?”

You nod, forcing yourself to look into his eyes.

“Good, and now,” he whispers, kissing your lips, and dragging out of you, “I want you to give into me and completely turn your brain off. You have me, that’s all you need right now.”

When he starts moving in and out, your body succumbs to the pleasure. Your muscles relax as you let him take care of you. His lips trace over your sensitive skin, leaving kisses on your neck and chest. His hands run over your body, touching and squeezing every inch. And he reaches so deep inside of you that you feel you can barely breathe.

“Just like this,” Haechan whispers close to your ear, gently biting the skin on your jaw. “Don’t think about anything,” he groans, hitting you deep after pulling out of you completely. “Not a single worry in that pretty brain of yours.”

You rarely let him win, but you have to admit that the way he makes you feel, the way he can lift all the stress off your shoulders, is a talent. He knows what he’s doing, and the scary thing is that he knows how to get you. So easily wrapped around his fingers, crumbling into nothing at his tiniest touch.

You whimper loudly when his fingers press against your clit, seeing stars at the new stimulation.

“You can take it,” he groans. You’re about to talk but he traps your lips in a messy, wet kiss as he pulls you closer by your waist, hitting even deeper. “You’re a good girl, right? You can take it.”

You’re doubtful, but you do take it, over and over again. You lose track of time and stop counting your orgasms after the third. There’s no need for that. All you need is the pleasure Donghyuck gives you, fucking you until both of you can’t do it anymore.

There’s nothing left once it’s over, no strength to talk or clean up the mess, just the warmth of your bodies cuddled against each other.

“Good morning, I will kill Lee Je — what the hell,” Renjun exclaims, entering the kitchen, making you turn around as if you’ve been caught stealing, holding the mug full of coffee in your hands and giving him a shy smile. “What are you doing here?”

You gulp, pushing your hair out of your face before coming up with a lie. “We studied too late.”

Renjun steps further into the room, staring at you with a raised brow before he tilts his head and studies how you’re dressed. You’re wearing Donghyuck’s sweater and pants.

“Oh, now they call it studying? Last time I checked you’re not med students, didn’t know music had anatomy in the program,” he taunts, grinning at you as he comes to your side.  

You choke on your saliva and don’t have time to come up with a reply because he strikes again.

“Oh, no, maybe you were exercising vocalization, it’s better when it’s done together, right?” He winks and you glare at him.

“It’s not what you think,” you lie, but honestly you feel so embarrassed about everything. You didn’t think anybody else would be up this early on a Sunday, but it’s clear you don’t know Renjun well. You could’ve left, but you didn’t want to. It was slowly starting to sink in that you didn’t like the solitude of your life anymore.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody,” he says, sitting in front of you. “Come here, don’t stay up.”

You do as told, and smile when he offers you a pack of biscuits. “I would’ve cooked something usually, but Jeno kept me up all night.”

You chuckle. “It’s fine, normally I don’t even have breakfast.”

“You don’t?” He gasps, and you nod.

“Yeah, just coffee.”

He looks down at you, shaking his head in disappointment. “It’s not healthy.”

“I know, I know, I’ll try to eat more, okay? For you.” You reach out your hand and he takes it.

A fit of cough brings both of your gazes to the door and you see Haechan stand against the frame. “Once it’s Jeno, another time it’s Renjun. I bring you home to study and you flirt with my friends.”

“Drop the bullshit, Hyuck. He knows,” you say, rolling your eyes.

Haechan’s eyes widen, but he slowly fakes indifference. “Knows what? That you don’t have time for a relationship so you can’t date him?”

“That you two fuck,” Renjun answers instead, making him cough.

“That’s not true,” he defends. “I hate her,” he says, laughing, but when he meets your eyes and sees them sadden, he feels pain in his heart. “No, no, I don’t hate her, but we’re… you know our relationship, why would we fuck?”

“Who’s fucking?”

“Not you, Jeno. Not you for sure,” Renjun says, rolling his eyes.

“Hey! Why do you always gotta be so rude,” Jeno whines.

“I doubt he’s not getting laid,” you chuckle, and Jeno winks playfully.

“See, words of a wise woman,” he brags, walking to the fridge to grab something.

Renjun sighs loudly. “A woman that doesn’t know you.”

“Would you fuck him?” Haechan asks out of nowhere and you glare at him.

“I just said that he’s hot and smart, I don’t see how he can have a hard time finding somebody,”

“’Cause he’s annoying,” Renjun answers, but Haechan’s not listening.

“I didn’t ask that,” Donghyuck says instead, his attention is all on you as if there’s nobody else in the room.  

“I don’t answer stupid questions,” you reply before sipping from your cup and drifting your gaze away.

“Wait, why are you here?” Jeno asks, only now realizing you’re not supposed to be at their place, not in the morning at least… wait… “Wait! Are you two fuck—”

“No,” Haechan answers sternly, glaring at him. “We’re studying. And it got late, so since we were closer to my place, I let her stay the night.”

“I thought you left yesterday saying you had a date, though,” Jeno says confused.

You chuckle under your breath before you feel Haechan’s hand wrap around your writs to pull you out of the room, not even giving you time to finish your coffee. “A studying date, and now drop it.”

When you reach his room, he groans loudly, walking to the closet to pick something to wear. You watch him move for a while, but then you can’t keep your thoughts inside your head anymore.

“Are you ashamed of me?” You ask and he turns around with wide eyes.

“What?”

“Am I something to be ashamed of? Do I don’t fit in the standard of the people you would usually fuck?”

He sighs, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want them to get invasive, they don’t let me live once they know something. And with you, it’s more embarrassing because of our history…”

You giggle, trying not to show the relief you’re feeling because, for a moment, you thought he was one of those types of men.

“Why can’t you ever make things easy for me?” He asks, annoyance in his voice. You have so much power over him, more than he likes to admit, and he feels like he can’t even be too mad at you about it.

“Sorry, it’s just, it’s funny having a history with you,” you explain. “My mortal enemy, always ready to steal my number ones, and my good grades.”

“You’re so annoying, you’re never sleeping over ever again.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I won’t let you fuck me ever again.”

“Liar,” he says. “And now move, I’ll drop you home.”

you can find part two on my account on the story masterlist or haechan’s masterlist (i can’t link it because if i do the post won’t appear in the tags)

general taglist: @froggyforhyuck, @wingsss45, @tddyhyck, @technologyculturedneo

fic taglist: @hcluvie, @gusgus0517, @multifandomania, @413cl, @odgsuji,

@hey-hey-heybitch, @nctrawberries, @n0hyuck, @haechoshi,

@girlwholoveslpreppyattire, @viciousdarlings, @hyuckmoon,

@jaeymark, @hqech, @xntlax, @milkyway-vxm, @fullsunahceah,

@beomgyusonlywife, @toroufriteh, @yesohhsehun @shxnz

@haecastor, @hyucksaint, @sk8ermark, @midnightrained

@maiteeeeesstuff, @smwhrinthehaze, @yoursyuno

© neowinestaindress ; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. 

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

thinking about a hybrid wolf hair dresser/ barber that would NEVER work on human hair.. but as they see more of you in public, they're more and more willing to make an exception for yours. not really a request lol just pitching an idea if you want to use it or change it up somehow! love your work!!

Yandere Wolf Hybrid Hair Stylist 

Rules | Kofi | Masterlist

Fashionable with the fairest mane around Emile is the envy of hybrids and humans alike

He adores throwing on something flashy and doing a hair flip whenever the opportunity presents itself

He’s just so good at what he does 

He only takes the highest quality clients

The Lion-Hybrid Talk Show host

The celebrity sheep-hybrid 

The list goes on…but only with very select traits

Fame and being a hybrid 

All the things that will have The Emile Farehaire even looking in any client’s direction

And yet when you happen to pass him while doing hair for a movie he’s enraptured

It’s likely because you’ve been working and you didn’t have time to tame your bed-head this time around

If you can believe it the first time he sees you and your mop of unruly hair he turns his nose up and continues walking

“Hmph humans. Given so little hair and they still look terrible!”

You’d think after working on seven different clients a day he’d forget all about the human assistant he happens to see passing by

…and yet…he can’t seem to

The second time he’s surprised to feel his beautifully conditioned and brushed tail wagging when he sees you again with that stupidly greasy hair

“What a look. Maybe try my hair care line, then maybe you’ll look better!”

He was being mean, he knew that

But in his mind, he’s already seen it played out 

You’ll stop and glare, turning to shove your clawless little finger into his chest while you reprimand him

And of course, he’d smile with superiority as he pulls a stray strand of your unruly hair while he mocks you again 

Of course he’d let you whine before relenting and inviting you into his chair

“A charity client,” he’d say and from then on you’d silently be grateful behind that witty banter you two will always have

Except…it doesn’t happen this way at all 

You just…keep walking

Whether you’ve got earbuds or genuinely thinking of the hundreds of tasks you have to get done 

You just don’t respond so Emile is standing flustered while he thinks he’s been ignored

And now instead of catching up on all the latest gossip from his regular he’s mentally debating if you purposefully ignored him and how on this  good green earth was he going to get your attention

First things first he has to get your name

In all his delusions+ imagines he’d never got your name

So it’s a given that he’ll ask his assistant or a chatty client in passing 

“Oh (Y/n)? Yeah they work harder than anybody and–”

“(Y/n)...that’s their name…could you tell me more?”

“Oh, can I? Just the other day–”

After that he just can’t seem to stop 

The voice of reason rings out less and less as he reconnects with his more primitive instincts

Instead of ‘turning off’ his sense of smell for all the specific products he uses he keeps it on

Using it to tell where he should conveniently stretch his legs so that he can bump into you

Or how typically he’d pin his ears down to avoid the sound of the blow dryer now he’s keeping up and at attention when he sees you excuse yourself from the group to take a call

Even with all of that, he seems to have even more trouble actually getting to do your hair

“I really think you should give this treatment a try. It would do wonders for your hair type! Even I could do it for you!”

“With your rates? No thanks appreciate the thought though.”

“W-what about a discount? I can do one just for you!”

“Nah I couldn’t do that to you.”

*Whimper*

At one point whether or not you’ve finally combed your hair or done a different hairstyle

He’s just got to have you in his chair!

So of course he decides he’s going to have to put a little more effort into this 

Maybe do what his ancestors did and pursue the hunt a little more

So he’ll get even more info finally using the money he’s got to good use

His closet can spare one empty space for your address

Maybe a house visit will convince you to finally let him do your hair

Maybe more 

Whatever he has to do to finally get his claws in your hair

Maybe then he’ll satiate that urge to lock you away 

So he can stop wagging his tail when you look at him 

To stop that urge to howl near your place when he’s certain all others can hear

Or maybe it won’t and he’ll just have to fabulously have you as his mate

Whether you want it or not

Enjoy my little ugly doodles of Emile! Thank you Anon, I'm really happy you do! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

[star-bitten]

hi my head has been consumed by @/timeslipcamp's posts so i am here to scream about haku and taiga's character designs. warning that i get INCREDIBLY delusional, INCREDIBLY nitpicky, and am channelling the energy of that pepe silvia scene in it's always sunny in philadelphia throughout this entire post

please note that i am by no means an expert on japanese or chinese culture! i've included sources where i can but PLEASE correct me on any inaccuracies/add extra context where i've neglected to!

1. taiga (screaming and sobbing and wailing)

distinctive features include: vermillion hair (pale gold underlayer), yellow-green eyes (no reflection), pointed teeth

most everything about taiga's design, i feel, is meant to scream 'inhuman'. the razor sharp teeth, the lack of reflection in his eyes, the pinprick pupils... and i want to talk about his hair.

there is a really good post by @/yuri-is-online which relates to the game's use of red to signify interactions with the spiritual/anomalous/otherwise nonhuman. out of all the ghouls, i would argue that taiga embodies how deeply intertwined they are with the anomalous world most of all - he eats them (in a symbolic sense, subsumes them), the very first full shot we get of him is him shrouded in the light of an anomalous wasteland, etc. (i know that ghouls themselves are anomalies, but i'm referring to another layer of how darkwick and the institute seem to demarcate the lines between 'good'/'useful'/'bad' anomalies.) even among the ghouls, taiga is a stark reminder of everything we don't understand and everything we have yet to see. this is captured visually through the coloration of his hair.

(i should also mention that haru, the only other character with bright red hair, is heavily tied to anomalies too through his role in jabberwock!)

historically, red has been considered sacred due to associations with fire, blood, the sun, and life. those are taiga motifs if i ever heard them. his hair is also reminiscent of fire itself, in a way - how the gold underlayer sprouts up into red.

i tried to find something that might relate to any potential symbolism behind his necklace (see the picture on the right) but came up with nothing lmao. i could connect it to the diamond suit in a standard deck of cards, which denotes the season of autumn (change, transition, harvest) and is tied to material wealth. the 'X' over it could be a nod to his awareness of the time loop - the unchanging futility of the actions taken in-game - and his subsequent ostensible apathy towards major aspects of his life, notably the sinostra casino (his reaction to ritsu asking him to shut it down in episode 4 comes to mind). it's a reach but it's all i've got

2. haku (thrashing around and crying and shaking)

distinctive features include: ombre (dyed?) hair (copper to green), yellow-green eyes

his asymmetrical hairstyle (despite being parted in the middle) is a really good design element - showcases his individuality, communicates his rebellious side and lines up with how he is Definitely only putting one side of himself on display. i'm going to go a little bit insane reading too much into it.

the kanji for right (右 migi) and left (左 hidari) generally represent the two hands. the right hand is the superior/dominant one; it brings food to one's mouth when eating (hence the kanji features a mouth, 口). conversely, the left hand is the supporting hand; it holds the dish (the kanji features 'craft'/'work', 工).

haku's hair is grown out on his right-hand side, and it obscures what lies behind it. perhaps this is very conspiracy theorist of me to say but one could see it as a nod to him hiding/suppressing the parts of him that want to take control/make more out of his presence. on the other hand (lmao), his hair is clipped short on his left side - ever the supporter, he showcases the easygoing, unassuming, 'background character' parts of himself to the world. it also helps that he's left handed! 工 being in the kanji for 'left' is also a nice coincidence since he's finally settled in hotarubi, the home of creatives and artisans.

now talking about the colour itself... rubs my hands together. it's a copper into green gradient. i literally eyedropped the colour to support the point i'm going to fight for my life about. here:

THAT'S RED. ISH?? i'm considering it to be red. it's a stretch but you can see that it leans a little onto the red side on the spectrum just give me this.

anyways i am connecting this to haku's background. he's the heir to a prominent shrine and appears to be somewhat estranged from his family. red has deep associations with the spiritual in japanese folk belief. i could definitely see this as some visual representation of him starting out as a child of the shrine and then growing into someone else. additionally, the asymmetry of his hair doesn't become apparent until it transitions into green i.e. the clean-cut and the 'othered' parts of him are communicated through his Hair. do you understand what i'm saying.

moving onto his earrings! they look to me like a cloverleaf knot, a type of chinese decorative knotwork associated heavily with good luck (image from wikipedia):

some other sources also say that it's connected to elemental harmony which is Interesting...

connecting to his character though i'd say that it does line up nicely with his traits. in this niponica article on traditional decorative knotwork in japan there's this sentence: 'yet no matter how elaborate the knot becomes, it will revert to a single cord when unravelled'. who is haku behind all the fronts he puts up, without all his guises? he's clearly hiding something, related to the spy or not; how would you pick him apart?

speaking on a broader scale, i don't think there's anything i could say about the snakelike aspects of his design/motifs that hasn't been said already. there are great posts about it that i cannot, however, find for the life of me. we'll see how that goes in future...

3. why taiga and haku?

haku and taiga are the first ghouls we encounter, and to me they represent two sides of the same coin. from the start they are juxtaposed in almost every possible way - taiga's abrasiveness and violence against haku's soothing, mediatory demeanour, their associated elements (fire for taiga in his hair and personality, water for haku in his artifact and house), their respective roles in mc's predicament (threat vs saviour (i know taiga technically saved mc but i also feel like that was something of an 'out of the frying pan into the fire' situation. i love him)).

at the same time, they also carry a certain amount of shared traits:

both have the main colours red/yellow/green

neither wear a tie

both wear jewelry on their right hand (taiga's bracelet and rings/haku's prayer beads)

both have prominent features modelled after animals (taiga's teeth/haku's eyes, described as being snakelike)

both are left handed

both share a unique relationship with the anomalous/otherwise nonhuman (taiga's urge to eat anomalies/haku's sensitivity to the spiritual)

they also appear to have some sort of connection that i don't believe has been elaborated on a lot - taiga remembers haku specifically for whatever reason, and appears to have some unresolved personal thing with him (as do like 50% of the ghouls; get in line).

i have some more thoughts which need time to simmer in my brain BUT that's pretty much the gist of it! if you're here thank you for reading through my rambling and i hope you have a wonderful day!

[jazjelspen]

knight in shining armor

kaeya x reader

(note: mentions of obsession yet not yandere, not proofread, may be ooc, reader is described as to be the traveller or simple A traveller, they/them reader.)

(extra: this is just a lil dumb fanfic i wrote at like 3am, i just wanted to try to write ONE finished piece after not being to finish at least five other pieces….)

it's been years, and he hasn't seen you at all. not for a minute, not for a second.

you've been missing for who knows how long, yet you're still all that he thinks about.

you infect his mind like an amoeba to a brain, a virus to a body, a worm in an apple-- you've solidified yourself in ways to which you have been permanently stuck and altered in his mind and he just can't get rid of you.

he thinks it's tedious and almost stupid as he doesn't want to dare to admit that he has more than an inkling of an attraction towards you.. in fact, he's at the very least mildly obsessed.

he knows this is bad, he knows this isn't what a person of high authority should be doing, feeling-- his inflated ego hurt at the fact that a simple stranger that came from a land far, far away could do such a thing.

he's a captain, you're a traveller.

you come and go as you please, and he is stuck at a certain spot at a certain position.. albeit slacking off a bit more than he would ever admit due to his credibility.

the scent of your hair, the smooth gentle touch of your skin- be it cold or warm- sets him off entirely. your clothes match your personality and reflect your internal self both visually and beautifully, your eyes a color that just flips him on his head and his stomach hurling in a infestation of butterflies.

there's no way in hell that this is healthy.

but there is also no way he isn't going to try to get an extra minute with you if he could.

which is why on a nice summer hot day he decided to ask you out, perhaps to relax and have a nice outing at a lake, a romantic evening at the angel's share, or a vibrant conversation over a meal and several drinks that make both your faces flush.

but then you disappeared.

the day he tried to find you was when you disappeared from this earth.

no amount of 'missing' posters nor reward money could bring you back.

you were meant to be declared dead awhile ago, but he never let up no matter what his superiors or those who worked below him told him.

he knew you'd be out there somewhere.

he knew you'd come back.

but just as he was about to fall into the routine of accepting your possible death, the possibility that you have finally left the earth and ceased to exist in one way or another.. did you finally appear just as you left: out of thin air.

time has passed since the two of you have been young adults.

now.. he sees that exact face from years ago.

yet despite how time has affected everyone, such as him getting just a few years older yet he has prided himself in still keeping that dashing young energy and face, it somehow didn't seem to affect you the way everyone else matured.

you still had the same clothes, the same hairstyle, the same plump young face, skin still as radiant as you were at your early 20s..

it's like time didn't dare to touch not even a single hair on your head.

with your sudden appearance all your old friends flocked to you and taking you in their arms while he stood back and watched.

it's like seeing a ghost, a corpse reanimated and walking with red back in it's veins.

you were just as perfect as the day he lost you.

yet instead of grabbing you and taking you in his arms the way he has wanted to do for years. he instead walks up to you slowly and listens to your story.

you apparently were taken to a different dimension on your way to continue your adventure yet again, being stuck there for a few hours until you finally got out-- and realized you were actually stuck there for a few years. it barely took ahold of you on how time worked differently there than when it did here.

but you were in such a state of shock you couldn't finish your story- he saw how you would stumble over your words in both confusion and panic at the fact that you missed out on so much and weren't there when those needed you most.

he was selfish, so selfish for this.

he wrapped his arms around you as you cried in his shoulder. your tears burning his soul but it made his heart weep with joy that you would basically throw your arms around him once he initiated the act.

he kept you just like that, close and rubbing your back- telling you gentle comforting phrases to get you to relax.

it wasn't until you said:

"thank you so much kaeya, I never saw you as a comforting type.. I thought maybe you saw yourself better than that but- it's such a relief you're here.. would you have the time to help me around here? please?"

and he couldn't just say no to those pretty eyes filled with tears.

he couldn't be happier that you finally initiated this first.

oh was he excited to be your knight in shining armor.

[lquiorra]

ꕥ``Looking for Thanos? He’s in the back.``ꕥ

Bartender! Nam-gyu x FTM! Pre-T! Reader ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ:

Fandom: Squid Game

Rated: NSFW (18+)

Word Count: 13.7K

Genre: Dating Imagines, Nam-gyu Mental Health/Illness (NSFW UNDER THE CUT)

Warnings: 18+ only! You/Your/Yours pronouns, the reader had only just socially transitioned, Squid Games never took place, mentions of Unestablished relationship, slight infatuation with Thanos by reader at the start, Nam-gyu typical jealousy, transphobia and misogyny from Nam-gyu (he eventually comes around), drug usage, Nam-gyu has Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) and Hypersexuality, anal sex (no vaginal because of a lack of anal in FTM content, sorry y’all), pre-op reader + pre HRT, mentions of suicide/history of suicidal ideation & attempts, mentions of alcoholism & drunkeness, toxic to balanced relationship, ! angst/comfort/smut Oneshot !, Nam-gyu is a pervert, masturbation, sex toys, pegging, switch!Nam-gyu, experimentalist Nam-gyu, virgin & experienced scenarios for the reader, NSFW HCs are almost pure smut and raunch but there are mentions of self harm

A/N: This is a disordered character written by a disordered person, I am writing Nam-gyu based but not entirely on my own experiences with NPD, him being disordered is NOT canon. Also I thought I’d have written Thanos first but I am definitely still planning to, so keep an eye out if you’re interested.

! There are both a SFW and NSFW Oneshot (separate) in this work, 2nd POV !

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ:

! SAFE FOR WORK IMAGINES !

ꕥ- You first noticed Nam-gyu working the bar at a local club, a promoter, he was, you thought it peculiar to be working such a position as someone with a higher status than that of a barkeep, but that wasn’t your position to pry, nor did you really care to, at least not for now.

ꕥ- Hell you wouldn’t really find yourself in this scene at the current stage of transition you’re in, a chest binder much too constricting, some poorly done hairstyle you got for cheap at a barbershop by a person clearly under qualified, but oh well, the damage was done.

ꕥ- Nam-gyu is quite silent, the type to be often seen nursing a drink or keeping half of his attention on whatever goings on a drunk client is babbling about to at least seem warm enough to pull more money out of the other, perhaps scavenge for tips despite the culture being dead and buried for the most part in South Korea.

ꕥ- Considering that you’re quite effeminate as of now, he doesn’t pay you much attention at first, either nodding or shaking to the questions of Thanos, giving a short comment here and there, and then going on his way to serve anyone else he could actually swindle some drug money from.

ꕥ- He did not, however, expect you to start frequenting the club, Pentagon was its name, not that it mattered much since he had no doubt that you were probably following Thanos everywhere by that point, a mixture of envy and toxic jealousy pooling in the pit of his stomach.

ꕥ- Was he interested in in women? No, not quite. Nam-gyu only slept around when he and his partner were high or drunk enough to ignore the flaws of one another, and Nam-gyu? Riddled with flaws.

ꕥ- Not to mention he is a raging misogynist and isn’t a very good person, he sees himself as superior to everyone he comes across, a pathetic attempt to hide the deep rooted insecurity that was planted into his brain when he was growing up as a kid.

ꕥ- This perspective of women unfortunately tied back to you, considering that you weren’t masc presenting he just believed you to be another cheap whore who could coaxed into the sheets with enough drugs or booze, but seeing that you weren’t doing much but admiring Thanos from afar, that’s when he started to feel something other than disdain for your presence.

ꕥ- Curiosity, at most, he wasn’t very interested in getting to know people who didn’t have at least some kind of brush of fame since it made him feel like he was surrounding himself with people lesser than himself, but perhaps he could make an exception just this once, get close to you and see what you could potentially offer him that would be of use.

ꕥ- So Nam-gyu starts to mask his bitter disinterest with a persona unfitting of him, his nasty remarks and venomous attitude buried deep within him as he talked to you in hope to see why you kept coming back, if it were anything more than a stupid celebrity crush on a guy who would sacrifice his friends for a hit of whatever addictive substance he could get his hands on, or if you were as shallow as he initially believed.

ꕥ- On the off days that Thanos wasn’t performing Nam-gyu would feel relief that he didn’t need to see you, the bar was quieter and filled with a bustling energy, but eventually you came around to visiting the club on what he believed to be his ‘break at work’.

ꕥ- Sheer, unbridled irritation, he disliked your presence since you either talked too little or talked too much. On the days you talked too much, he’d find an excuse to leave somewhere else and try to have someone take his position at the bar. On the days you talked too little it felt like he was going to rip his hair out, he didn’t like the constant change.

ꕥ- Eventually you two got not a routine, subconsciously at most but Nam-gyu wasn’t stupid, he had purposely made a routine for the two of you, or so he thought he did, his grandiose nature wouldn’t allow him to think otherwise anyway.

ꕥ- Talking to Nam-gyu, you started to read his body language a bit better, it had been at least a few months by now since you started to frequent at the club and so you were able to pick up on his traits and peculiar quirks.

ꕥ- For one, when he was nervous or felt as if people were being too close, he would pull his sleeves down over his hands, fingers poking out in a paw-like manner, a trait usually seen in female influencers to frame themselves as cute, but in Nam-gyu it would be seen as bizarre and quite childish.

ꕥ- Another quirk was his disdain for his hair being in his face, any time you noticed that a strand of black hair fell against his cheek or a row of eyelashes, he would scowl as if he met the man who had shot his parents in front of him and promptly tuck it behind his ear again.

ꕥ- One of the most bothersome traits was that closer you got to him, the more he seemed to close himself off, become more agitated and on edge. Often snapping at a spilled drink or throw a nasty remark your way. You’d tell your friends of this and they would suggest that he’s probably a murderer and that you should keep your distance from a guy like him.

ꕥ- However despite their advice, your attention was now more drawn away from that charming rapper with a snarky attitude and at what you believed to be a guy who just needed the company of someone, but Nam-gyu didn’t feel t the same way at all.

ꕥ- One problematic thing you did notice is his utter disdain for empathy, or well, his lack of it. A sob story from a client would get a small, apologetic smile but his eyes seemed void of that, of anything that was remote to him feeling anything other than irritation, or perhaps a thrill that someone’s life was worse off than his.

ꕥ- It put an uneasy feel in your stomach and made you wonder if you really shouldn’t be trying to throw yourself into a crowd like this, with Thanos, with Nam-gyu, with anyone who sat at this God forsaken bar table, but even so you still stayed, maybe it was the curiosity to the man who stood across from you, or the opportunity to meet Thanos.

ꕥ- Oh yes, you did find out quickly that Nam-gyu was close with the rapper you originally visited this club for, mainly because he wasn’t very sneaky with their friendship, swindling a free drink from Nam-gyu or sneaking out to receive something in the alleyway close by, you didn’t know what just yet, but you had a feeling that it was something illegal.

ꕥ- Regardless, whatever triangle you found yourself in wasn’t really a story typical love triangle, more of just sheer interest you felt for the two of them, hell your infatuation with Thanos stopped feeling like love a while ago since getting to know Nam-gyu more.

ꕥ- ���Nam-su’ Nam-gyu repeated under his breath with disdain, followed by the man correcting his name in a pattern after his friend had skipped away like an overactive child, it really didn’t look as healthy as you would’ve liked to think it was.

ꕥ- Initially thinking it was a nickname he was given, you foolishly asked about it, and that allowed Nam-gyu the room to ramble about his dislike of Thanos’ constant forgetfulness, how he suspected that he was doing all of this on purpose and if he wasn’t he was just an asshole who couldn’t even remember his best friend’s first name.

ꕥ- You were bombarded with properly half a decades worth of toxicity within their friendship and it took you blindsided. Of course you were still processing it, but since you weren’t processing it fast enough and not giving him the empathy he wanted he would narrow his eyes and simply walk away like a cat that lost interest in its owner, sleeves rolled down his hands.

ꕥ- You’ve never seen him so, defeated.

ꕥ- Of course eventually since he’s seen you get so close to his friend Thanos started to show interest, hell he was a messy flirt, tucking an arm around your shoulders and trying to woo you over, but right now you really weren’t having it despite having initial interest, opting to slip from his grasp and back away.

ꕥ- He did push a bit to encourage you, but backed off, he isn’t one to chase in a place it’s not wanted, sniffing elsewhere to find someone to play with.

ꕥ- Nam-gyu was… impressed to say the least. He expected you to give yourself to him like any other whore in this building, so upon your next conversation he was the one to ask the questions first.

ꕥ- When he does, he tries to be subtle, trying to worm an answer out of you without having to explicitly ask why you rejected him, but you caught on quickly and decided that maybe coming out to a guy who looked like he was constantly high off his chops with how dilated his eyes were might not be a bad idea.

ꕥ- It was.

ꕥ- He was surprised, of course asking a question that may have been uncomfortable to you and getting a little discomforted himself, now he was certain that talking to you would have people look down on him, but maybe he’d get some kind of reward over giving what the believed to be a pathetic excuse of a man the time of day and talk to him.

ꕥ- Hell, if you’re smart enough not to roll in the hay with Thanos then you might as well be good enough for him to hand his attention to you like a charity worker, that, and he needed the friend. He ain’t got many so even though he disagrees initially with the fact that you’re transgender, because honestly, he’s a mean person, he won’t say anything to scare you away much anymore.

ꕥ- However one thing he will not shy away from if you have any further arguments is using slurs against you, unfortunately Nam-gyu is quite bitter and toxic as a friend and the fact that you challenge him and don’t let him walk all over you pisses him off.

ꕥ- However just as he does Thanos, he starts getting clingy with you, making sure he greets you first, keeps your attention on him and nowhere else, hell he starts to no longer care that you’re trans as long as you pay attention to him, make him feel important, a source of praise and the respect he feels he deserves.

ꕥ- It’s selfish and cruel, but at least he’s no longer asking uncomfortable questions about your transition anymore or calling you names like he used to.

ꕥ- You don’t even know why stuck around when he did any of those things, maybe it was Thanos, or who you now formerly knew as Choi Su-bong, insisting that Nam-gyu wasn’t totally a bad guy, but you did, and now you’ve started to regret things much less with how much attention you’re getting from him.

ꕥ- It’s almost suffocating.

ꕥ- He’s affectionate, touchy and possessive of you, always hovering around and trying to put himself in conversations he knew he wasn’t welcome in, but who the hell cared? He knew he didn’t, so why should he worry about how you felt even when he purposely made you look bad just so people would stop hanging around you.

ꕥ- Of course you put a stop to this quickly after he started the habit, but he didn’t take any of your lecture, telling you that you should be grateful that he even paid attention to you, slinging insults your way and acting as if he were some high and mighty man who needed to be worshipped.

ꕥ- However despite the grandiose forefront, on the inside he felt insecure, did you no want to talk to him anymore? Did you hate him? Who cares if you hated him, he knew he didn’t. Yes he did. Everything was conflicting and hurt him all at once, one hand going up to scratch at the other as a self destructive self-soothing habit.

ꕥ- That was a new quirk you’ve noticed since then, he scratched his fingers raw when something wasn’t going his way, concerning and childish all the same. He had scabs and fresh wound he’d often pick at on his hands, and now it seemed worse than ever.

ꕥ- He yelled and cut you off, despite knowing that louder doesn’t mean he’s right, and this caused a scene in the club, so you decided to do the best thing for the both of you and slip into the back room nearby and talk to him as adults should.

ꕥ- Without the loud noises and a bit of patience, he eventually seemed to have gave in to your boundaries, albeit a little spite settling between you two as he gruffly turned the cold shoulder at you for the following few days.

ꕥ- Nam-gyu does this quite a lot now that he knows you won’t let him push you around so much, but Thanos on the other hand seems impressed that you managed to get some kind of leash on him. His friend wasn’t the nicest of people nor was he very fun to be around when not in a good mood, but hey, whatever you were doing it was working.

ꕥ- Nam-gyu was suspicious for the following days, watching you and Thanos get closer, he knew Thanos had a big mouth and definitely spilled the beans on what they share behind the alleyway, and he bet you hated him for being a drug addict, so he definitely wasn’t going to loosen up any time soon on you.

ꕥ- Hell the only reason he started speaking with you again is when you found him hunched over the bar after work, nursing his drink within his severely trembling hands, withdrawal. He seemed to be giving you the stink eye since he knew you noticed.

ꕥ- You hovered over him and eventually he barked out a demand for what you wanted and why you were hovering over him, upon hearing a question to if he were okay, Nam-gyu would roll his eyes and gruffly respond with a ‘could be better’ before going back to swirling his drink and hopefully getting drunk enough to shrug off the feeling of being sober.

ꕥ- That night he opened up, he talked about previous suicidal ideation, how he once had a shrink and they up and ditched him, how he believed that they were useless. Of course you encouraged him to try and get a new one, but he countered with the fact that he is too deep in debt to think about that shit, so you backed down, not telling him to do something when he wasn’t able to do it even if he wanted to.

ꕥ- Nam-gyu did however tell you not to feel bad for him, or give him any pity because he despised it more than anything, eyes sunken with lack of sleep and voice rasped, his nasty attitude replaced with what might’ve been gratefulness that someone asked.

ꕥ- Further along the line, when he gets feelings for you, he is quite insecure internally but not shy about them, hand lingering on your shoulder when he tells you to settle down on the drinks, watching the way you tuck any loose strands of hair out of your face, if your hair is long enough or in a style that allowed it to fall.

ꕥ- Sure you were trans, but that meant nothing to him anymore when you were giving him the actual kindness he strongly believed he deserved, respect too. He believed you were aware that he was a man of authority and needed special treatment no matter whether it was true or not, you’d be foolish to think otherwise, he thought.

ꕥ- He liked to do impressions of his friend to hopefully get a laugh from you, happy that it was him you chose to spend your time with at work, not so much his best friend, who Nam-gyu honestly believed was far more attractive than he was, and probably more deserving despite not being any better, at least he had the looks to go with his horrible behaviours.

ꕥ- Occasionally he’d even flirt with you, if you reject his advances he goes sulking to Thanos, if you don’t, he’s beaming like he just won the lottery, a genuine smile that felt different to the ones he had put on when masking interest.

ꕥ- Oh when he sulks, he sulks. He’ll probably say something nasty to your face to gather up his wounded ego and go to Thanos and hopefully get some kind of validation or high as a kite to ignore that he was rejected by the pretty boy who sat across from him every night.

ꕥ- Pretty boy, that’s what he thinks of you by now, mentally referring to you as such. He thinks you’re pretty, much prettier than him, it took a while for his ego to allow him to think that but he does. I mean, years of prolonged drug use does have its negative affect on one’s appearance, not to mention his hygiene struggle since he could sometimes barely afford food let alone water, so he usually comes crawling to Thanos shamelessly despite knowing the dude is also having money struggles after MGCoin lead the to get scammed.

ꕥ- Nam-gyu doesn’t bother asking you out, because of that, mainly because he was being considerate (for once) of what being in a relationship with a guy who has a huge debt would entail, financial struggles galore, and he didn’t want to drag you down with him.

ꕥ- So when you asked him out one day, he blinked at you owlishly and told you that Thanos was in the back if you were looking to ask him out, despite knowing full well that you liked him, hell, he always paid attention to when someone was giving him that kind of attention.

ꕥ- But regardless, you repeated your question slowly and Nam-gyu silenced, a small dust of pink fluttering upon his typically sharp expression while he glanced away to agree, of course only because he felt bad that you were chasing someone who was way out of your league.

ꕥ- The relationship starts off as rocky as expected, he put you on a pedestal and acted as if your relationship was purely because he was being pitiful on you, and of course you shut that down as soon as it started to become a problem, sure Nam-gyu tried cutting it off at first and skipped out on work, which you learnt since that the reason he was working the bar was because of how horrifically understaffed they were, but he eventually came around and gave in.

ꕥ- Any kind of affection was usually a perverse squeeze on his end or a weird remark about your body, but you knew that he was just trying to sound cool or like he had been with someone who was likely out of his league, anyone who was patient enough to put up with his bullshit was definitely out of his league.

ꕥ- But there were moments of resignation of his actions and he’d actually apologise, sure, lack of emotional empathy but he knew when he needed to make up for his actions, even if what he was doing wasn’t exactly out of the norm for some cisgender men, but it was a problem and he wasn’t that socially unaware.

ꕥ- You did dislike that every single big step you, like meeting him, visiting him, setting boundaries and other important things, he’ll even the start of your relationship felt like you were at square one with the guy again, he was kind of hard to deal with but he wasn’t a total monster.

ꕥ- Sure you definitely needed to help him work out the more distasteful parts of himself, especially his dislike for anything feminine despite having similar traits to the thing he despised, that probably being the reason he disliked it to begin with. If you forgot how insecure he deeply was.

ꕥ- But insecurity doesn’t remove accountability or the fact that Nam-gyu should be more responsible for how he treats people, and you, so of course correction is the key, mostly aggressive correction since asking him like some kind of gentle parenting method will not work.

ꕥ- Eh, other than the downsides to dating Nam-gyu, lots of downsides, there are upsides to it too. First of all, he’s actually a lot better of a kisser than one might realise, his teeth snagging at your lips to tease and hands less than nervous to adventure. He’s not shy at all.

ꕥ- He’s alright with PDA, but for mutual safety he tries to restrict it as much as possible outside of areas where he knows there are a substantial amount of queer folk, otherwise it’s making out after work or in the comfort of his crummy apartment.

ꕥ- His apartment is a mess, trash left haphazardly on the floor since he spends most of the time at work or at Thanos’ place so he sees no need to clean up, but if you point it out he might start cleaning it, hell, likely getting up from the sofa right in front of you and tidying the place, as embarrassing for you it may be.

ꕥ- So at least he’s more considerate for your comfort now that you’re together, losing you wouldn’t be great, he genuinely likes your company so losing you to some hateful bastard would hurt him, so he kept a close eye on people, he didn’t trust anyone other than you and Thanos regardless so this wasn’t really a huge change in habit.

ꕥ- With kissing don’t expect him to shy away from it, mainly because he’s high off his ass and confidence pours from every corner of his being when he is, hell his drug intake skyrocketed since you started dating him, it gives Nam-gyu the boost of confidence he needed to actually indulge in his desires.

ꕥ- His eyes dilated from the drugs and even just the sight of you, hands exploring whatever he could as if you’d fall like sand within his grasp if he stopped, there hasn’t been a single place on your body his lips hasn’t touched.

ꕥ- Additionally, Nam-gyu is obsessed with your neck, it’s rare that he kisses anyone in an intimate way other than when he’s having sex, but with you he likes to see you flush because of him, even if it would a few extra words to work up that familiar red hue to your face, it was addictive.

ꕥ- Speaking of addiction, don’t expect him to suddenly go clean because he has a thing for you, if you want him to do anything remotely of the sort then don’t date a guy like him, he’ll say that to you himself, the initial conversation will make him explode and actually willingly put a gap between you and himself.

ꕥ- In fact, he’s so dependent on the drugs that he’d probably sacrifice his relationship with you if you get any ideas of making him quit, Nam-gyu does not want to change, he does not want help, he doesn’t see why he should even consider getting help, especially since to him you’re nothing more than a burden whenever you worry about his health.

ꕥ- If you want him to stay sober during your time together it might take some convincing before he actually starts to attempt to cool down on drugs when he’s around you, mainly because they actually allow him to act on his impulses without any kind of fear of consequence, he’d probably go through a process of broken promises, attempting, and then completely shutting you down when you confront him about lying.

ꕥ- But he’ll come around, it’s not like he won’t slip a pill at work, if you catch him he’ll make some excuse that he’s on the clock and technically you chose to hang around him at work, you will never get a fully clean Nam-gyu.

ꕥ- Break ups are common with him, he breaks up with you and expects you to come crawling back to him, beg him to take you back because for once Nam-gyu feels as if he is in control of the relationship, but every time he’ll crawl back, promise he’s changed, and give you the same smile every time.

ꕥ- It takes almost an entire year for him to stop feeling challenged by your presence and accept you properly into his life, you know he doesn’t mean half of the things he says and that he’ll apologise as sincerely as he possibly could upon request, he just struggles without being encouraged to do things any other person would, his mental illness is a disability after all.

ꕥ- Up until now he learned that in a relationship he should just take what he gets and not expect any more or any less from a partner, so he doesn’t demand much, but if you give him more than he bargained for he’ll give you a smile and a nod, he is polite, surprisingly so considering how he can treat you, so he isn’t going to shy away from thanking you for even the small things that he genuinely appreciates.

ꕥ- The same goes for you, he’ll give you what you’ll give him, a kiss will be mirrored, your affection, words of love will only fall from his lips in return if you initiate, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.

ꕥ- Other than that, keep in mind that dating a man like Nam-gyu is complicated and not your typical romance, he’s difficult to get along with and some of his traits are not as charming as the rest of them, but overall if you’re able to be patient with him you’ll see progress.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ:

! SFW ONESHOT !

Word Count: 2.5K

Nam-gyu’s face was buried in a pillow, having prompted to sleep on the couch instead of the comfort of his unmade bed since he had at least three hours before he had to get ready for his next shift at Club Pentagon. Usually, he would’ve been granted a bit more time to sleep and prepare himself for the next day but because a staff member had recently quit and his boss had been up his ass about arriving to work earlier. Foolishly enough, he took the free meal his boss offered as his last shift started, and this being his boss’ way of baiting him into working overtime which summed up to an extra three hours, giving him less time and room to actually sleep.

Each breath came out a short whistle of his nose, blocked because he was cold and what that meant for him is that his nose would get stuffy and uncomfortable, however that mattered none to Nam-gyu as he was too deep into his slumber to even get up and inhale until the annoying sound eventually stopped.

Soon enough his alarm went off, hand going toward his phone to put it on silent and head throbbing with the beginnings of a sharp migraine that hadn’t set itself in. Nam-gyu begrudgingly sat up, skin sticky with sweat and eyes hanging low, he hadn’t even been able to take a shower the night before, since by the time he got home he was exhausted beyond belief and crashed the moment he hit the couch. Fuck, he noticed that he even slept through one of his earlier alarms by the time Nam-gyu checked his phone for the time, at least he had a couple hours until work started so he had some time to sit back, maybe pump his veins full of God knows what he got his hands on from Thanos, and play some videogames.

Cracking out a needle and some other things to keep it clean, he started to prepare his little trip before work, sitting back and cleaning the injection site after he tied a tourniquet around his bicep to make it easier to locate a vein, removing it and getting ready to draw some blood to ensure he would be injecting somewhat safely into his arm, as safe as you can get with as much scarring he had at least.

That was the plan until his phone thrummed with messages that it didn’t notify him of during sleep mode, seeing that his boyfriend sent a message half an hour after he was supposed to initially wake up saying that he was coming over, Nam-gyu’s eyes widening as a knock was heard from his front door. Scrambling to his feet, Nam-gyu pulled his shirt on, sure it had a beer stain smack dab in the middle but it was better to wear something than nothing at all and get scrutinised for how his body looks, or so he strongly believed that’s exactly what would’ve happened.

Eventually he mustered up the courage to face you after kicking all of his goods haphazardly under the coffee table in a box and making the living room at least presentable, spritzing on some deodorant so he wouldn’t smell too awful and wiping his clammy hands onto his cargo shorts. Upon opening the door. You seemed a little zoned out, so he waited for you to snap out of it and greet him with a smile as he would look you once over, taking in your appearance.

“Took you long enough,” He would tease softly with a curl of his lip, obviously he wasn’t doing a good job at he whole ‘I have been awake this whole time’ act but you decided to cut him some slack and just brushed it off. He didn’t smell too great honestly, the twist of cheap body spray and the sour scent of sweat from being overheated in a club lingering in the air, not that you weren’t used to it by now, but it wasn’t the most pleasant thing to have in your face right at the moment you greet your boyfriend.

“Yeah yeah I know, you didn’t see my message for a while so I was worried you’d be asleep,” You would respond with a small yawn, rubbing the corner of your eye as if you were a still ridden with sleep, he himself weren’t in a better position either, the bags under his eyes evidence of the fact that he had been overworking himself for his boss, but it was either a few more hours of sleep or to risk being one paycheck short of paying next weeks rent, and there was no way in hell he’d scramble to you expecting money, not because he felt bad about taking it, but mostly because it wounded his pride.

Nam-gyu soon cracked open a window and sat down onto the sofa with a small ‘oomph’, crossing one leg over the other and expecting you to join him while he threw on some corny show. He unable to afford streaming services or anything other than the limited data he had on his phone even if he wanted to spend his money on that, honestly he was just broke, he was just lucky you didn’t seem to complain much.

“So, what convinced you to come visit me in the morning?” He’d ask with an eyebrow raising inquisitively, a small head tilt and a sparkle in his eye, one of the very few signs that he was actually interested in what you were saying, but you shrugged and left him slightly confused, he wasn’t used to how unpredictable you were.

“I guess I just wanted to see you, I always go to the club after work but I thought it’d be nice to spend some time outside of your job with you,” you’d answer politely, fingers slowly dancing across his lap and eventually grabbing a hold of one of his hands, Nam-gyu shifting his hand slightly so your fingers would intertwine instead of being tangled in an unattractive mess.

He felt warmth when you told him that you actually wanted to see him, he had gotten so used to you showing up at work that he forgot that he was allowed to talk to you whenever he wanted and not in a hurried manner in a slurry of orders and old men bossing him around, it gave him time to think, away from the bustling energy and the music that he swore would knock down the walls of that old club someday.

You on the other hand, was currently trying to piece together what he was feeling since Nam-gyu was usually trying his best to keep himself as closed off as possible. It was a subconscious habit to hide his vulnerabilities, which meant you didn’t feel as if he distrusted you, you just struggled with piecing together his possible responses and whether they’d be good or not.

He’d smile, a tiny quirk of the lips that would be unnoticeable if you didn’t squint just right before he’d dip his head politely, thanking you as he usually would when you managed to make his heart squeeze. “I appreciate that, just wait here for a bit, I need to take a quick shower and put something better on, it looks like I threw up all over myself.”

Although you said that he looked fine, Nam-gyu insisted and squeezed your shoulders before he would head into the cramped bathroom to take a shower. It was small and grungy in there, tiles slightly cracked and mold forming between them, a problem he would have to handle himself a bit further along the line when he actually bothered to be concerned about his health, the only reason why he started to pick up his habits because he now had to impress you, and a nagging feeling telling him that if he didn’t he would probably fumble and scare you away.

Even as he slipped a pill into his pockets that he kept hidden in here specifically to take to work, he felt guilt, not that he felt bad for lying to you, but as if you were watching him and waiting for Nam-gyu to do something wrong and ditch him officially, he’ll he’s broke up with you at least a dozen times but soon came crawling back like some lowly dog, despite him thinking it’d be the opposite to every time he pulled a stunt like that.

Discarding those thoughts, Nam-gyu focused on washing his hair, fingers scratching against his scalp to remove dirt and whatever grime he got from an angry customer throwing a drink on him because ‘he didn’t make it right’, or because ‘the bar down the road was cheaper’. Well it was a club, drinks were likely to be expensive because of the people they usually have performing for them and it wasn’t some cheap bar you’d go to sit there and be depressed. Honestly thinking about the things he disliked about work made Nam-gyu feel better rather than thinking about his insecurities, mainly because it gave him a sense of superiority over the people who let their emotions get the better of them.

You on the other hand, decided to snoop, Nam-gyu didn’t mind you going through his things as long as they weren’t his stash, so you opened a few drawers and took out one of his various sketch books. He wasn’t that bad of an artist, sure he’d need a little work but there was obviously skill in what he did, ‘at least the man had some pride in his life’ you’d think to yourself before closing the sketch book and tucking it back into the drawer he usually stuffed full of his socks.

Taking your attention away from his sketchbook collection for a minute, you took your gaze around the place for a little while, a clock that had since stopped running since the power ran flat reading 6:27am, walls cracked with water damage and the humidity that would otherwise remain in his apartment when the man keeps the windows shut when you’re not here. You don’t blame him, you experienced firsthand that his neighbours were loud and played obnoxious music, coming home at two in the morning at minimum and trying to get to sleep after being surrounded by energetic music and energetic people only to be greeted by more was definitely a deal breaker to trade the state of your already shitty apartment for at least a couple of hours of sleep.

You walk toward the hall between the bathroom and his bedroom, opting on entering Nam-gyu’s room since for one, the shower was literally occupied and you couldn’t check it out even if you wanted to, and two, his room didn’t even have a lock let alone a door.

Like the rest of his apartment, Nam-gyu’s bedroom was a mess, a room tucked in the corner of his part of the building, only ever cleaned up to pass an inspection. His bed was untouched, it seemed he hadn’t slept here for a couple of days and the room smelled musty, the only light drawn into the room from a small crack in the blinds. Stepping over paper plates stained with remnants of whatever he ate, you sat down on the bed with a rusty creak below you, grimacing at whatever crumbs clung to the palms of your hands that you braced your weight on, dusting them off on your clothes.

Although the crumbs were a little gut wrenching, you decided to lie down and inhale the familiar scent of your boyfriend who wasn’t present as of yet. The sheets were crumpled and clearly too big from the mattress, rolling under your body with every movement and they smelled of sweat, evidence of withdrawal, a long night at work, stress, and maybe a result of the very few moments he’d actually use the punching bag in the corner of the room that Thanos bought for him for his last birthday. Sour but it smelled of him, in every way possible.

It wasn’t long after that until a fresh-out-of-the-shower Nam-gyu entered the bedroom, clearly confused since he didn’t expect you to be lying down on his bed, hell, he thought you’d still be in the living room looking through his sketch book. Nam-gyu would always lean over your shoulder and try to explain what you were looking at even if you had already figured it out. “You alright there?” He’d call out softly, not wanting to disturb you in case if you crashed and that was the reason you were lying down on his bed.

You would roll over facing Nam-gyu. He hadn’t even bothered to dry his hair, still damp and dripping onto his clean shirt and undoubtedly soaking the material, a towel tucked under his armpit while his free hand was subconsciously rubbing circles into the fabric of the ripped, baggy jeans he decided to wear today. You tried to make out the lettering on his clothes, written in the same cryptic words most other shirts were in, likely a band you have never even heard of.

“Yeah I’m okay, what does that say?” Pointing to his shirt, Nam-gyu furrowed his brows and looked down before pulling at the hem to get a better look, letting out a hum as he released it and made eye contact with you once more.

“Macabre, a thrash metal band I saw at a gig once, they sing about serial killers or something,” he’d shrug nonchalantly and sit down on the edge of his bed with a creak, taking the towel to his black hair and ruffling it against his scalp. Silently you tapped his shoulder and asked if he needed help without using your words, Nam-gyu shaking his head in response because he was mature enough to be able to dry his own hair.

Nam-gyu prided himself in his music taste, different to the techno or rap that would play at the club he worked at for the most part, however he still did engage with those genres since Thanos was deep plunged into the rap scene himself. Although you avoided playing music around him, he wasn’t too open minded to new bands and was a thousand percent an elitist, even to his own partner, listening to music with him was quite unpleasant.

The television was still playing in the other room, accompanied by the sound of Nam-gyu ruffling his hair under the towel, your hand stopping his quickly with a charming smile and giving him a short kiss on the lips, you did come over to see him after all. You pulled a different, brighter grin than the small smile this morning from Nam-gyu, who would reach over and squeeze your hip, deepening the kiss. The shower helped wash over the fatigue so he felt a little more confident in kissing you, hand balling into fists against your clothes while he would straddle you.

Just as your tongues were starting to tangle with one another the humming of his third and final alarm sounded, causing Nam-gyu to push away from you and head into the living room to fetch it, turning it off as he returned to the bedroom.

“Fuck, I have to head to work. My car’s outside if you don’t have a shift today and want to tag along?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ:

! NOT SAFE FOR WORK IMAGINES !

ꕥ- First and foremost, you made Nam-gyu get checked for STDs, even though he insisted that he never shared needles and he’s not an idiot you weren’t going to take your chances and made him get tested.

ꕥ- It came back negative, go figure, and Nam-gyu definitely flaunted it in your face that he was clean despite being one of the biggest junkies you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

ꕥ- Anyway, with sex, Nam-gyu is used to being a bottom, he’s been with thousands of different types of men, he has his preferences and tastes, hell he knows he prefers giving head than receiving and being bent over a table or a dumpster in the alley was something he was used to, but with you he’s kind of lost.

ꕥ- He doesn’t know what he wants from you, sure he loves you and finds you hot as hell but he doesn’t know how he should go about getting you under his sheets with him.

ꕥ- Just like initiating the relationship between you both, naturally you took the lead and got him under you during a passionate make-out session, hands grasping and touching and before you knew it his hands hiked your shirt over your head and were all over you. Teeth biting pretty marks into your sweet spot and tongue sliding against your collarbone.

ꕥ- To him, he likes switching things up with you from time to time, one day he could be the bottom, the next you could be in the same position you had him in before, either way, it all felt so good, almost felt good as the drugs he took alongside it.

ꕥ- Oh yeah, he preferred being high while in bed, made things feel much more sensitive and easier for him to get used to the feeling of being deep inside your ass, or having one of his dildos stuffed inside of him as you thrusted it against his prostate, pulling all of the pretty moans he always kept hidden away from you.

ꕥ- He had an assortment of different toys, dildos, plugs, flesh-lights, he used them on himself about just as much as he used them in bed. He was hypersexual, a result of him being disordered to begin with and sex brought him a sense of control he felt that he otherwise didn’t have in his life, sex with you brought him both that and security.

ꕥ- When giving him a blowjob he prefers the mess, his hand grasping into your hair or against the back of your neck, choking and gagging you on his length, tongue swirling pathetically against him, he loved the way you coughed when he suddenly pushed you down and yanked you back so you could catch your breath. He wasn’t one for receiving but with you that changed, he loved seeing the way your lips look wrapped around him.

ꕥ- He isn’t the biggest but he definitely isn’t small either, around average size, curved length and a singular vein that ran alongside it right to the flushed pink tip that leaked and twitched from the smallest of stimulation. He was surprisingly very pretty down there if that was a word to describe how he looked, cum beading from his tip and dripping pathetically every time you turned him on.

ꕥ- When you told him that you preferred the idea of anal he beamed, he liked ass better than pussy anyway, and seeing your tight hole stuffed to the brim from him looked amazing, plus that meant that Nam-gyu didn’t need to waste his money on condoms in case if you weren’t on birth control.

ꕥ- Nam-gyu understands the importance of foreplay, mainly because it gets the mood going, and also because the importance of actually preparing his partner to be penetrated. He has experienced sex without any preparation and that lead to nothing but discomfort for himself, not so much for his partner because he was just some drunken idiot who had never touched another man before.

ꕥ- He takes extra care in prepping you, burying his fingers deep until they’re up to the knuckle in your ass, stretching you open just right before he slides right into where he wants.

ꕥ- If he has lube on hand he’d much rather use that, spit dries out too quickly which means neither of you can do it for very long without him having to spit on his cock again and push it back into you once more, the loss of stimulation is kind of unpleasant.

ꕥ- Nam-gyu also enjoys rimming, his tongue will swirl your entrance and prod just a bit to tease. Surprisingly, but definitely a pleasant one, he makes sure to clean himself up properly when he showers, Nam-gyu doesn’t enjoy being covered in his own sweat, nor did he enjoy the smell.

ꕥ- If you enjoy them he did invest in a few vibrators that he can use you while fucking you on his fingers, you’d be surprised in how giving he is despite hearing from Thanos that he was quite selfish, not that Thanos is the most trustworthy of people, but Nam-gyu definitely would come out about it sooner than later that he’s typically only focusing on what he wants rather than what his partner wants.

ꕥ- This selfishness does show the first few times you have sex. He’ll leave you hanging there since he’s used to simply a quick fuck and then leaving once he was finished.

ꕥ- He has a purity kink so if you’re a virgin you better watch out, he’ll stuff you to the brim and try his best to break your mind, nails digging into your hips and thighs with every thrust, you’re just lucky Nam-gyu has a nail biting habit when he’s nervous because otherwise he’d be gripping you hard enough to draw blood, that doesn’t mean he isn’t leaving his mark there though as a litter of pretty bruises lays themselves out on your skin.

ꕥ- But if you aren’t into the rough stuff he’ll make an exception for you, his face buried into your shoulder as he thrusts shallowly into your tight hole, a shower of praise falling from his lips to encourage you to take more of his loads if he’s pent up enough to keep up the effort.

ꕥ- On the other hand, if he’s bottoming for your first time he’ll make sure you can hear all of the sounds that fall from his lips, flushed red and slightly swollen from making out while his eyes are puffy from tears and desperation.

ꕥ- If you’re experienced and he’s on top he’ll be jealous, very jealous, Nam-gyu doesn’t like the fact that someone managed to touch you before he did and so he will be merciless, you thought he was rough before but oh boy does he have the sex drive to go on for a couple of hours before he decides enough is enough.

ꕥ- He’ll be sure to overstimulate you even before you two have sex, fingers stuffed in your ass and pressing right against that certain place that makes you twitch and whine, hand squeezing against your throat until you start seeing stars, he is no gentle lover when jealous and you probably won’t be able to calm him down.

ꕥ- However, if you do manage to get him under you he’ll probably be cursing you out, eyes narrowed in anger as you give him the hardest fucking of his life, of course you’d have to use a strap but that’s the appeal in fucking a guy like Nam-gyu, he was a true experimentalist, there was nothing you’ve done to him that he’s never experienced at the hands of someone else.

ꕥ- He was nothing more than a little hypocrite.

ꕥ- When you’re not home to help him out with his arousal he’ll be fisting his cock to whatever picture he can find of you, clutching it like a vice in his grip as he focuses his gaze on your body, he’s a shameless pervert so often times his favourite way to kick back at home if he’s not ready to sleep or feeling like getting high after work is to jerk off.

ꕥ- That doesn’t mean he’s got pride not to have a go at himself at work, he gets turned on easily, especially since he works at a club where people get drunk and fool around, he imagines that it were you and him doing that, if he weren’t on the clock he’d probably be trying to desperately cling onto you and do exactly that.

ꕥ- But don’t be surprised if he ends up jerking off in a toilet stall if you managed to rile him up at work, even accidentally. Wishing that you’d enter the bathroom and help him, that it was your hand wrapped around his cock instead of his own, he felt no shame in leaning his head against the stall and making a mess of the wall, two fingers plunged into his hole to stimulate himself, he was completely addicted to you.

ꕥ- Nam-gyu loves attention, his disorder makes him crave it even if it weren’t the good kind, no matter how shameful his acts has to be to give him what he wanted, so occasionally he’d let out a little moan just to get a disgusted response or something aligned with that, he liked it, he liked being reduced to nothing but a pervert who can’t keep it in his pants, even at work.

ꕥ- Even his best friend, Thanos, is aware of how perverted Nam-gyu is, he’s not shy when talking about what he’s done in bed and some of his more gross achievements, if you’re comfortable with it or don’t mind, he’ll tell Thanos exactly how he had you, or exactly how you had him the night before, even in front of you.

ꕥ- Although confident with sex, he isn’t so confident about his body, he was skilled and experienced, but that was only because he had the opportunity to sway someone with the prospect of drugs or a free drink, hell he was easy to get in the sheets, he’d hump the leg of just about anyone who offered him something good.

ꕥ- That’s when the shame usually sets in, he feels like he doesn’t look the greatest, sure he’s got a nice dick if he says so himself but his skin is scarred from cigarette burns, in he heat of the moment it was hot but now they just littered his skin with marks of people he couldn’t be fucked to remember the names of. He also once had a long-term self harm addiction in highschool and had clear evidence of on his wrists and thighs, for both pity, attention and a cry for help, so he wasn’t very confident in himself.

ꕥ- Not to mention Nam-gyu didn’t know if flashing you with his inner elbow despite you being aware of what was currently there would be too appealing to you or not, so long sleeve stays on until he feels more comfortable with you, pity was great but being pitied by a person he actually was decently close to pissed him off, especially pity from you.

ꕥ- Once Nam-gyu takes the shirt off please take extra care and give him attention, kiss his scars and complimenting them is a good way to actually pull out something other than his desires for you, no you don’t need to kiss his inner arm if the prospect makes you discomforted, he’d appreciate anything you give to him.

ꕥ- Nam-gyu is a vocal man, as demonstrated before, he squirms and begs for release even when he’s on top, he’ll beg for you to keep squeezing him, to take what he’s got. And it is very much the same for when he is bottoming, whining for you to keep going, faster, slower if he is overstimulated, but he prefers getting ignored when he begs for you to slow down.

ꕥ- Nam-gyu is mean. He is quick to degrade, he loves it, especially when he brings tears to your eyes. Of course he doesn’t mean a good portion of what he says and there is a safe word put in place in case it is too much, but it is rough and sometimes hard to stomach when he spews out a stream of insults or denouncing you to nothing but a hooker he’d mess with.

ꕥ- Sometimes, when he’s not feeling the rough sensations of having being fucked or doing the fucking, he likes to go more lax and have sex with you in a way he can see your eyes watching him, he enjoys it rough but occasionally it really doesn’t scratch the right itch for him so he opts for something more sensational and loving.

ꕥ- Not to mention he probably feels you need reassurance that he’s not just using you like he does most other people, he only really gets close to others just so he can get what he wants and then tossing them to the side soon after, but with you Nam-gyu wants you to know that you’re loved by him.

ꕥ- His favourite positions are doggy style and the mating press, he likes being able push your head into whatever you’re under just as much as he likes to pin your legs to your chest, it’s no different to when you’re on top and doing the fucking instead, it feels just as good giving to you just as it does to take it from you.

ꕥ- When Nam-gyu is fucking you, you’ll notice that depending on how good he’s feeling he’ll take his attention off his hair and not bother to tuck the strands behind his ears when it gets in the way. He does end up feeling great in the end regardless of how good it initially is, but when he’s not drunk on sex he’ll still take a hand off you at the start to make sure his vision doesn’t get obscured.

ꕥ- If you tuck his hair out of his face when he’s not conscious about it being there his heart will melt and Nam-gyu will give you a small nod, even if you’re in the middle of getting your back blown out, he’s just polite in a pretty dorky way even in such an intimate connection.

ꕥ- Aftercare at first was pretty rare, he didn’t give enough of a crap to look after his previous partners so why should he do the same for you? But if you complain enough, or just ask him for some attention, he’ll break the habit much to his demise and start actually looking after you like a partner should.

ꕥ- He’ll ask for you to join him in a shower - not to continue because he’d be a bit tuckered out himself by then - but to wash off the sweat and scent of sex. Again, Nam-gyu doesn’t like lying down with the bedsheets clinging to his skin, or the leather of the sofa causing a ‘riiip’ sound as he parts from the surface.

ꕥ- Nam-gyu is shameless when you’re showering together, his eyes will be transfixed on whatever he was permitted to, usually unspoken, but if you’re uncomfortable with your chest he’ll either stand close enough to you that he can’t see it or just avoid looking, the same goes for the rest of your insecurities, since by now he’s learned to better respect your boundaries.

ꕥ- If that isn’t enough he’ll offer to throw on a movie from his CD collection and cuddle with you, just pray that the player hasn’t decided to finally shit itself with the amount of times that Nam-gyu ended up accidentally causing a spill with a gravity bong he made with a plastic bottle and a bucket, cheap and available.

ꕥ- Overall, Nam-gyu is perverted and sweet, selfish and giving, a walking contradiction in himself, he has many different faces to him that he offers you in bed and he’ll love to indulge in you as much as he can.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ:

! NSFW ONESHOT !

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: Top!Nam-Gyu, withdrawal, mentions of nausea, descriptive vomiting, hurt/comfort/smut, drug use, violence occasionally in place of romance, hair pulling, mentions of Nam-gyu’s past experiences with sex, Nam-gyu has a cock piercing, mating press, dacryphilia, spanking, degradation, choking, knife play (fantasy only), sadism, masochism, breeding kink, Nam-gyu isn’t a serious dom, jealousy, possessiveness

By now Nam-gyu had chewed his fingers raw by now, he’d somehow left his pills at home so now he was in a stall trying to pull himself together. His shirt soaked unhealthily with sweat, fighting back tears since he’d have to go a few more hours before he even got a chance to head home and try to load some kind of drug into his body before the urges consumed him.

Usually when this happened he would go to Thanos and say he’d pay him back, usually through free drinks and some of the nicest places in the club, he may have been a VIP but Thanos didn’t have access to everything all at once, so the offer was far too tantalising to refuse. However that wasn’t an option right now since his friend was currently touring the country and wouldn’t be back for at least three more weeks. Nam-gyu thought of texting you and beg for your help, but was he really that pathetic as to swallow his pride and go to you for something you didn’t seem to enjoy as much as he?

Yes, he was. His fingers quickly attempted to dial your number, cursing out loud with every time that his trembling hands ended up pressing the wrong digit until the clamminess of his thumb pads transferred to the screen and started to cause it to bug out. “Fuck, fuck! Fuck you! I’m going to die- I’m really going to die!” Cursed the man dramatically, raising the device into the air and tossing it hard enough to the ground below to crack the screen pretty severely.

Although he knew he wasn’t going to die here like some lowly dog his mind sure was convincing Nam-gyu that he would, teeth both chattering as if he were freezing cold while Nam-gyu ran hot, stomach tensing and releasing with the urge to throw up, the fact that his mind was focusing on any kind of solution to the pain he was in was probably the only reason why Nam-Gyu wasn’t hunched over the bowl throwing up the contents of his lunch, hell did he even think to eat lunch? Or was he delirious from the lack of high? Nam-gyu didn’t know.

Eventually Nam-gyu found himself curling up within a stall of the bathroom, playing with the lines of his cracked phone to hopefully get his attention away from everything, from the fact that his mouth started to go dry from how much he was sweating, the way his spine started to ache due to the trembles of his body, how he was hyper-aware of the dirt from the floor clinging to his skin but also too out of it to even care, even thing was closing in, you weren’t here to help.

He fucking hated you for it, why aren’t you asking if he were okay? Nam-gyu lost track of time and doubted that his break wasn’t over by now, if you never came into his life Nam-gyu would’ve never started to keep drugs offhand to appease you, he’d have come to work high and not worry about having some kind of ear worm bug him about his health, to see the less unhinged person Nam-gyu could be.

His fist started to beat against the wall, pain jolting from his fist into his shoulder, and then burying itself into his stomach which eventually was too strenuous for Nam-gyu, the man hunching over and throwing up whatever might’ve been in his stomach at that moment, black hair falling into his face and getting soiled with his own bile. It burned like acid within the pit of his throat, the taste absolutely awful while some aggressively went out of his nose with the force of every hurl, tears stinging Nam-gyu’s eyes and occasionally dressing his face alongside his own stomach acid.

“Fucking junkie,” Nam-gyu swore he heard his boss say, or maybe that was his mind playing tricks. Nam-gyu felt as if he were in a loop, something would happen, he’d acknowledge it and then question if it actually even took place, lower lip trembling in fear for his life, in fear for if someone actually found him like this, all pathetic and weak.

“Hey, you in here?” A familiar voice called, shoes clicking against the ground as Nam-gyu went dead silent, making a quiet attempt to sit up onto the toilet bowl and tuck his feet against himself. He didn’t want to feel hope, Nam-gyu knew not to get excited when he was like this, it was probably not even real to begin with. But the voice repeated, softer this time, “Nam-gyu?”

He’d cover his mouth and pant, it was you, that was no hallucination, he was decently alright at separating what was just a figment of his imagination to the sound of a real, warm blooded person. Slowly, he gained the ability to walk - or rather, stumble - against the door and unlock it, falling to his knees and crawling right to your legs.

To say at the least, you were mortified upon seeing your boyfriend desperate, he never dropped that tough, bully persona he always had on for anyone, not you, not even Thanos, but within the dingy, poorly lit bathroom you saw him trembling as if he had just witnessed a murder before his eyes. You made sure to crouch down quickly, trying to identify what was wrong as your eyes darted across his face, seeing how much of a mess he was.

It didn’t take long for you to identify what had been wrong, this was one of the only moments you’d see Nam-gyu vulnerable after all, he was going through withdrawal, at work nonetheless, and because of the status of your relationship you felt completely inclined to help the other man despite what that might’ve entailed. Within the palm of his hand, Nam-gyu was nursing the phone he smashed against the ground, you could tell that he was just as violent in withdrawal as he was when he was completely enthralled in substance, no, he had never struck you, nor would he ever try to, but he definitely could say the wrong things in the heat of the moment.

“Think you could stand?” You asked softly before an arm tucked under his armpit, one of Nam-gyu’s hands shooting out to support himself on your weight while the man began to get himself up with a grunt, legs shaking with the ache of his muscles and fingernails tensing against the flesh on your body. At least he was able to stand, but walking might’ve been quite difficult with the state he was in as of now.

You took a small, experimental step back, Nam-gyu trying to follow but his motor skills weren’t as good as they should be, stumbling forward against you and holding on tightly. Gingerly, you would take care to pry the phone from his hands, thumb grazing softly against a rough knuckle, slipping the broken device into your pocket so he wouldn’t cut himself on it while you would start backing toward the bathroom door.

Nam-gyu being silent was always a discomfort to you, he was usually full of life, attentive and kept his attention on you whenever you two were in the same vicinity of one another, at least when he was sober. But right now being sober for Nam-gyu seemed like the worst thing you’ve ever lied your eyes upon, his own excrement sticking strands of charred locks to his skin, eyes going between half lidded and blown wide as if he were seeing something, all you knew that you needed to do was call a cab.

Of course, you had to talk it out with his boss, who seemed angry until he witnessed the state his employee was in. Of course still a little reluctant to let him go, but at least Thanos wasn’t here to stir up the customers so it was a pretty slow night so for now he let Nam-gyu off the hook. You’d reposition your arm, opting to wrap around around his middle instead while walking at a slow, offbeat pace to follow every single one of Nam-gyu’s staggered steps.

“We’ll be home soon, okay?” A nod, you were happy to see that Nam-gyu was at least showing signs of life, a small curve of your lips at the sight as a gentle kiss was pressed to his forehead.

The car ride was mostly silent, of course the man driving the vehicle assumed that Nam-gyu’s condition was a result of him taking it too far and offering a vomit bag that you definitely didn’t decline, the occasional question about your, relationship status because of course one would assume that you two were dating from how doting you were of him, and the fact that you were letting the guy squeeze your bicep like a lifeline, fingers flexing and unflexing with every jump of the car because the road to his apartment building was quite bumpy.

You’d swipe the keys from Nam-gyu’s pockets and help him step up the stairs, however, the concrete was wet and to a dazed man that was a death sentence, his foot slipping and his body quickly plummeting towards the ground. “Oh woah!” You’d call out as you caught him, hand resting under his chest while your arm was wrapped firmly around his hips, Nam-gyu had only just reacted after you grabbed a hold of him, it seemed that his responses were a little more delayed and he didn’t realise just how close to injury, or perhaps death, he had been.

After a moment, the man got himself back up and started to stalk toward the familiar door to his apartment, patting his pants down desperately for the keys before he started to panic.

“Calm down, I took them, see?” It surprised you to think that Nam-gyu didn’t notice, you weren’t exactly sneaky when stealing the keys from his pocket, you only took them so you could help him get into his apartment and not have your boyfriend snap the important part of the key into the lock. Flicking through a few of them, you recognised the familiar apartment number engraved into the material and tried it, the door opening with a click.

Swiftly, Nam-gyu opened the door and stumbled into the building, you situating yourself on the couch as you could hear him stumble around his bathroom for what you didn’t doubt to be his only lifeline, you were probably second to his drug abuse, which although hurt, you since had gotten used to.

Nam-gyu sat on the bathroom sink as he’d slump against the mirror, tap running in the background so you wouldn’t have to hear him frantically scurry around for the prettily coloured pills he’s long since accustomed into his daily routine. Popping one into his mouth that fizzled and tasted awful, but he soon chewed and swallowed, while another was prompted to rest under his tongue. For a moment Nam-gyu considered taking a third but this was all he needed for now, if he started the pattern of overindulgence an overdose would soon come.

As the high settled in, his jittering soon stopped and Nam-gyu made an attempt at washing the bile from his face and hair in the sink. You’d notice the door were unlocked so of course you entered the room, receiving a small hum from Nam-gyu to confirm that he was finished with what he had to do, clearly more enthusiastic then before.

“You gonna start bitching at me or what?” That was one of the reasons why you disliked it when Nam-gyu took drugs around you, he got more bitter and mean, confident, but your silence drew out and he’d turn around, hair drenched and his tongue playing around with the pill he left under there. With a hand held up as a pause, Nam-gyu swallowed with a grimace, it seemed that the pill was too bitter even for him.

“No I wasn’t, I was just worried.” You’d respond once he paid his attention back to you, brown pupils almost black with dilation, and a small scoff came from Nam-gyu as he would give you a lopsided smile, he liked that you cared.

“I like hearing you say that, did you know?” Nam-gyu wasn’t shy to approach you as he would touch your cheek, lips curling up further as he’d let out a huff of breath that almost sounded like actual amusement. He wasn’t inherently a bad person, not entirely at least, he did love you and made you aware of that, and despite the fact that his hands were always cold you found yourself leaning into them, into him.

Nam-gyu let out a small gasp as your hands brushed against his chest and shoulders, craning his head to look at you as a soft kiss was pressed against his lips. “God…” he breathed softly as you parted from him, the hand on your cheek moving to rest into your hair instead before he would lean down and press his lips to yours in a sharper kiss.

Sharp, because of the way that he dug his fingers into your face, every time he saw you Nam-gyu wanted to rip you to shreds, sober or not. You rubbed him all in the right ways, knew what buttons to push to get what you wanted out of him, hell, one day he wouldn’t be surprised if you managed to find a way to force him to go clean for you, just the thought of it, fuck.

He’d pull himself away, your thigh had since subconsciously slotted between his which made Nam-gyu go crazy with the idea of your taste. Your feel. Your body. Everything you had to offer him was already on a silver, no, gold platter by this point, you were worth much more than just mere silver to him, you were…

Nam-gyu’s mind was too fuzzy, the drugs taking him off track as he would lean down and start kissing the column of your throat, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips as your fingers found purchase in his hair, tugging and pulling a grunt from him. That was the reason he kept his hair long, originally as a way to please the men who he whored himself out to just for some cheap drug, cheap drugs he couldn’t even dream of affording the supply he had coming in.

But now instead, it was for you, he liked feeling your fingers putting at it, much softer than other men have done, but it was still that same pain Nam-gyu needed to really get him going, his eyes widening with raw lust and adoration for you.

“Fuck babe… didn’t think you’d start lookin’ all pretty for a druggie like me,” Nam-gyu spoke with confidence, the drugs clearly having an affect on how he was currently acting, this side of him was just as enticing as the side of Nam-gyu when he was sober enough to use your name.

With a swallow you didn’t know you needed, your lips stuttered a bit with the look in his eyes, it was kind of terrifying seeing just how much lust he had for you, but the feeling of him subtly grinding against your thigh like lowly dog despite having the situation under control was making heat pool in your belly, your voice came out in a hushed response, “when has that ever changed?”

Nam-gyu hummed, sliding the hand gripping your jaw away from a moment to rub his own, teasing you of course, but he was definitely trying to work out some kind of answer for you, “there was that one time at the bar where you got too carried away with the drinks and-.”

Just before he could finish retelling probably the most embarrassing story of your clubbing experiences, your lips caught his words, eyes full of malice even as Nam-gyu slipped his hand against your ass, squeezing roughly enough to make you almost jump and curse. Nam-gyu knew he was shameless, but when it came to you, it was like a whole new level.

Clothes scattered and the memories of Nam-gyu’s suffrage set aside, it didn’t take long for the two of you to end up in the comfort of his messy bedroom and in the sheets, Nam-gyu had one hand pumping his lubed up middle and ring finger into the tight rim of your ass, the lube helping him situate his digits right up to the knuckle as they curled and pressed all of the right spots inside of your body.

His other hand was occupied with keeping your thighs apart, putting you on full view as Nam-gyu hovered over you, hair falling over his shoulders like a curtain, dilated pupils transfixed on every twitch and moan that passed from your lips. His lips quirked up in a smirk as you’d let out a particularly loud moan, the man mimicking in the same nasty behaviour he’d always do, but it was more-so out of endearment than malice, he loved how you sound wrapped around his fingers.

“Come on, keep squeezing me like that and I won’t even be able to loosen you up properly,” he’d warn with a mischievous glint in his eyes, circling your entrance with a third finger before it slotted in alongside the others, joining them in thrusting inside of your body as Nam-gyu spread them inside of you.

“Sh-shut up,” of course you had attempted to quip back, eye twitching with a leg kicking out to his thigh. Nam-gyu prompted to catch it with the hand that was once on your knee, gripping your ankle as he would yank you a little closer to himself, tutting as if you were misbehaving. He never really was the most stoic type in bed, Nam-gyu liked to tease and see you squirm so this was a welcome experience to him.

His fingernails dug just slightly into your ankle, causing you to wince and attempt to pull back, of course Nam-gyu wasn’t budging, hell his grip only got tighter when you tried to back away, fingers pumping faster. Slowly, he’d pull them out, admiring the mess he’s made of you while Nam-gyu would pay attention to himself, a piercing nestling just under his slit and glimmering in the intimate lighting of the room.

“I need you to breathe in slowly…” Nam-gyu murmured while slotting himself into you, he knows when to communicate which was a good thing, but the burn was pleasant and the feeling of being stuffed to the brim was beyond amazing. Your ass was like nothing Nam-gyu felt before despite the countless times you have both done it, that was one of the reasons as to why he would never be able to get bored of you, you were just so addictive.

A long groan, and then a thrust, followed by another, until Nam-gyu couldn’t keep up the gentle act and started to simply fuck into you, the drugs and pleasure of sex numbing his mind while both hands were fixed on your thighs and holding your knees to your chest, plowing into your body. The cock piercing only made it feel better, nudging and grinding deliciously against your walls as the slick slide of lube sounded itself with every thrust of his length into you.

One of his hands raised up temporarily to come strike back down on your ass, leaving a deep shade of red under its wake as your nerves tingled alight, pain jostling itself up your spine and into your chest where you felt the warmth already gathered there turn into a small flame of pleasure. That was followed by another strike, and another, until the point where you swore that if Nam-gyu kept up the pace you’d have broke right under him, sobs and moans escaping from your lips.

As tears pooled from your eyes Nam-gyu gave you a pout, mocking sympathy while his hips only went to drive faster and deeper into you. His head leant back, your hands going up to support yourself on his shoulders while Nam-gyu went back to keeping both of your knees pressed tightly to your chest, making it slightly more difficult to breathe alongside the binder you opted to keep on while Nam-gyu kept himself bare to you in the intimate dance you both were performing.

Nam-gyu however couldn’t bare to not look at you for long, forcing his attention back onto the pretty boy he had spent the last year or so chasing after, internally praying that Thanos wouldn’t suddenly decide he’d want you for himself and take you away, but for now you were all his, the one he wanted to see crying tears over him and only him.

“Stupid whore, can’t help but spread your legs for me even after that pathetic display I put on in the bathroom at work, I bet you got off to that didn’t you? Fucking creep,” Nam-gyu cursed, obviously he didn’t actually believe that you’d find a man covered in his own excrement would’ve been arousing, but there was something attractive about his words, maybe it was the way he degraded you, or attempted to make you out into some kind of pervert who couldn’t even dare keep it in his pants, but either way it was attractive.

“I didn’t I swear-,” The protest died on your lips with Nam-gyu reaching up to choke you, fingers making you start seeing white until he released you again, a gasp of air rushing into your lungs that you didn’t even know you were so desperately fighting for, Nam-gyu laughed at the look on your expression, the way you seemed to fear him just as much as you wanted him.

He wanted to see more, get a taste of the fear he was bringing from you, and so Nam-gyu leant down to capture your lips in his. Unlike the kiss shared in the bathroom, this one was full of teeth and much sloppier, making out as if neither of you had experienced doing so before, chasing the high that was just out of reach.

“Fuck keep lookin’ at me like that babe and I might lose it…” The man murmured, his mind filling with images of you underneath him, a sharp blade in his hand carving into your skin, giving you a mark that wouldn’t fade like the various hickeys Nam-gyu graciously gifted you, hell he bet you’d enjoy it, you’d take anything and everything from him if he so wanted you to.

So just as he was about to ride out his high Nam-gyu stilled his hips, biting his lower lip to hopefully brace himself and stop himself from cumming into you right then and there. You were just as close as he was so a whine escaped your lips, overstimulation settling in as your hips squirmed in hope that it would allow you some more friction.

“Fuck I’m g’nna.. g’nna fill you up yeah? Breed you nice and good…” Nam-gyu rolled his shoulders and panted, hoping to draw out what you both were making out of this session as best as he could, so instead of the deep powerful thrusts he were doing before Nam-gyu slowed his pace down, hips barely drawing back before he would start plunging into you slowly, the tip peaking out and sinking back into your tight warmth.

A snort almost escaped your lips, eyes rolling at his words since there was something quite silly about how he acted, but seeing just how passionate he seemed made your face flush a little, his eyes not moving off you once.

“Y-you sound like Thanos,” you said to hopefully rile Nam-gyu up, which it one-hundred percent did, his eyes narrowing as the gentle sex turned into brutal fucking once more. He didn’t like that even right now Thanos was on your mind, that was the original reason as to why you visited the club so frequently, he never before entertained the idea that you’d fall into his arms instead but you did, so knowing you still remembered why you were there originally in the first place pissed him off, and brought out the possessive feelings even more.

Nam-gyu fell silent, he wanted to remind you of who you belonged to when he was pounding you into the sheets, he wanted you to forget all about who Thanos was, his stupid best friend, one he was grateful for in a way for bringing the both of you to meet, but one he also hated for originally capturing your attention instead of him.

“Shut the hell up about him, I don’t want to hear shit about Thanos while I’m fucking you,” Nam-gyu ordered shamelessly, that high twisting further into the pit of his stomach before Nam-gyu rode it out, painting your insides pearly white as you’d feel yourself cumming around his cock, squeezing and milking him for all he was worth.

The two of you sat there in your post-climatic haze, Nam-gyu closing his eyes while your hand tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, fuck did he love you, even though you got on his nerves he still loved every fibre of your being. Nam-gyu leant down for a soft kiss and rested his forehead against yours, sweat clinging to his skin but he was too blissed out of his mind and high to even care.

“Let’s stay like this for a little longer.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ:

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Literary Character

In a literary work, characters are the persons who are given certain moral, intellectual, and emotional qualities by the author.

Two Major Types of Characters

Static. The static character is one who is "flat" and two-dimensional. Such a character is usually recognized by one or two simple traits. The hallmark of a static character is that he or she will not change in spite of experience or conflict. This type of character remains unchanged by events and experiences. An example of a static character is Mistress Quickly in Henry IV.

Dynamic. The dynamic character is one who is "round" and three-dimensional. His or her personality, motives, and attitudes are complex. Such a character cannot be summed up by one or two traits. The hallmark of a dynamic character is change. This type of character will be changed and influenced by events and experiences. An example of a dynamic character is Pip in Great Expectations.

Criteria for Analyzing Character

The reader can use the criteria below in order to analyze, interpret, and draw conclusions about a character.

Appearance. Appearance generally falls into two categories: external and physical. External appearance consists of extrinsic qualities, such as clothing, jewelry, tattoos, or hairstyle. Through these external factors, you may determine a character’s taste, social status, occupation, or personality. Physical appearance, on the other hand, consists of intrinsic qualities, such as height, weight, facial expression, or tone of voice. These physical factors can suggest different personality traits. For example, a muscular physique might suggest strength; a skinny physique might suggest weakness. Be careful, however, not to judge a character on appearance alone. Appearance and reality are not always the same.

Behavior and Actions. In literature, all behavior and actions help define character. Nothing a character does is arbitrary or incidental. Small nuances of behavior need to be interpreted, as well as major decisive actions. Therefore, when trying to define what a character is like, consider what that character does. Do his or her actions reveal courage, ignorance, cunning, or generosity? For your analysis to be complete, consider involuntary behavior, such as nervous twitching, fast talking, or profuse sweating.

Biography. Often in short stories or novels, biographical information about a character will be revealed: place of birth, era of childhood, type of education, early careers, successes, failures, even the identity and occupation of the character’s parents. Such information can be used to sharpen the picture of a character, or to give added credibility to traits and values that have been identified.

Dialogue. Closely scrutinize what characters say and how they say it, for dialogue is significant. A character’s speech reveals traits and values in 2 principal ways:

Direct Expression. The correlation is patently clear between what the character says and who the character is. Nothing is hidden; nothing is subtly suggested. Direct expression requires little or no interpretation by the reader. What the character says provides immediate insight. For example, in Paradise Lost, the fallen angel Moloch states how he would like to deal with the angels left in heaven, “My sentence is for open war.” Moloch’s hostile nature is revealed directly.

Indirect Expression. The correlation is implied between what the character says and who the character is. The meaning of words may be hidden or suggested. Thus, the reader must determine the unstated meaning of a character’s words. For example, at a ball in Pride and Prejudice, Mr. Darcy is asked if he’ll join in the dancing. He replies, “All savages dance.” At its face value, the statement could be a harmless observation about dancing. Instead, it reveals Mr. Darcy as a haughty man whose sense of superiority makes him disdainful of his company.

Emotions. When interpreting a character, you will be trying to get below the surface of that character to see deeper meanings. To do so, take into account a character’s temperament. Temperament may manifest itself in some general traits, such as whether a character is introverted or extroverted, optimistic or pessimistic, sensitive or indifferent. Or, temperament may reveal itself in specific emotional states, such as anger, melancholy, anxiety, compassion, or happiness.

Thoughts. If an author uses “direct expression” to reveal a character's thoughts and values, you need only to note what these thoughts and values are, explaining why they are significant. However, a character’s thoughts are rarely revealed directly. Therefore, you will need to interpret, infer, and draw conclusions about a character's thoughts. To do so, gather evidence from the above criteria. These criteria can all come together to form a composite sketch of a character, revealing his or her true opinions and beliefs.

What other characters say and think. The statements and thoughts of one character regarding another can be a valid source of information. However, this information can be double-edged. While you may learn about a character based on the statements and thoughts of another, you will have to evaluate the accuracy and reliability of those statements and thoughts. A reliable character will usually be perceptive and a good judge of character; an unreliable character will be flawed in some way that inhibits his or her judgment.

How To Write about Character

When writing about character, you may use the following 3-step process. Keep in mind that this is a general approach.

Establish major character traits. Pin down the character’s traits. Because the main characters in a work will have depth and complexity, you should be able to distinguish at least three prominent traits. These traits may be closely related, but they must be distinctly different.

Support major character traits with examples. The traits you establish in step 1 will be based on general impressions. In step 2, however, you must support these traits with concrete examples. For example, if you assert that “vindictiveness” is a trait, you must substantiate vindictiveness with examples from the literary work.

Explain how and why your examples substantiate a particular trait. Step 3 is the most important (and most difficult) stage of your paper. You must go beyond merely linking examples with traits; you must elaborate your views of a character’s traits with explanation. Your explanation must tell how and why your examples reveal a particular trait, whether the trait is moral, intellectual, or emotional.

Note: Other non-human entities can perform in the role of “characters.” For example, animals, nature (rivers, mountains, oceans, etc.), and man-made creations (cities, machines, houses, etc.) can function as characters.

If these writing notes help with your poem/story, do tag me. Or send me a link. I'd love to read them!

Writing Notes & References

[cafeoleconlimoncito]

Edit of Twisted wonderland anniversary no.3. and other curiosities of Yuni but with the third year boys: 1. Yuni's first friendship with someone in 3rd grade was with Lilia. 2. Yuni and Malleus' relationship is curious in that she acts as if he were a naive little child, while Malleus sometimes treats her as someone petite and younger, you can see that he has a respect for her as if she were someone more senior. This is because it references works where an older character has adolescent or childish attitudes. 3. Yuni at first did not tolerate Vil in any way. Their relationship could be explained from "hate to friendship". And believe it or not, I took reference to create their relationship from the anime Host Club and My little Pony. 4. Yuni did not recognize or know Idia's name, since book 6 she begins to call him by his name and to know who he is. Curiously, she knew and identified Ortho. Sometimes Yuni referred to Idia as “The astroboy's big brother”. 5. Cater physically resembles Yuni's ex, which is why she initially feels a little uncomfortable. 6. For the dynamics of Leona and Yuni I took reference to the Shreck movie (Shrek and Donkey) and Moana (Moana and Mauie). 7. Rook is the only one who knows Yuni's weight as well as other details such as the fact that she has a tattoo (he knows these details by observation). 8. Also that at first Yuni tries to tease him by calling him “He-Man” because of his hairstyle (Although Rook doesn't understand what she means). 9. Rook refers to Yuni as "Mademoiselle Canard" (Miss Duck). 10. Trey is the only character that Yuni treats as if he is older. Most of the older ones she doesn't have as much respect for or doesn't act with them as if they are superior to her.

[tricksh0t]

★ tangent lines

☾ cassian andor x male reader

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ "tangent lines meet once and never again" or something along those lines; based on the moment in the first episode where cassian told that girl "flirting? I like that"

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 952

cw: no smut just making out, getting caught

Another undercover job... don't get him wrong, these are pretty thrilling. Taking up a new identity, a new personality, and getting to come back home at the end of it all the same man he was when he started? It's like having a free trial at being another person. Of course, it's still tedious, having to remember at each and every moment to act as a persona and not as who he is... and okay, maybe it isn't so fun.

But he's got a partner this time, and he doesn't know who he is apart from his persona! It's only fun because he can tell the genuine person behind there is passionate for the cause, and the tendency to ramble also helps.

He's Calico and you're Avery, rising actors ready to take on Coruscant by the storm, and your first pit stop in this extravagant life is a party.

See? Fun.

Except now the missions all said and done (intel gathering), and you're trapped in a room that would mark you trespassers if you were found; and speaking of found, there was a patrol coming right around the corner.

"Well, it's easy." You began while confidently leaning against a table; confident only, it seemed, because you've been in this spot before. "We found each other at the party, started having a couple drinks, and then we got to flirting—well, that one doesn't work here."

"Who says it doesn't?" Cassian interrupted, shooting you a sly smile and a raised brow.

"Alright, we were flirting." You continued, not failing to notice the way his eyes trailed up and down your body and how it made his smile wider, "We decided things were getting a little too hot on that dance floor and we needed to get a room."

"And then what?" Cassian chimed, moving a step closer. You'd be lying if you said he wasn't hot. Despite the quaffed high fashion hairstyle that was definitely not your preference, he wore an outfit finely tailored to his body–either by luck or a keen superior–that left just enough for the imagination. The man behind the facade, the man you were probably seeing right now, had a charming tongue too.

"We somehow avoided all the patrols without realizing anywhere outside the ballroom is out of limits, and we were certainly not the culprits behind those collapsed guards some hallways over," You kept eye contact as you spoke, "because we were too busy kissing each other."

"Oh, that's right, we were. So you know, we got right to work, started knocking things over because we were so blind." Cassian knocked things off tables, harmless stuff like wooden figures and books, as he walked towards you. He neared until he could get his hands on either side of you, on the table, trapping you against it. "When they come, we'll want them to believe our story without even having to tell it, right?"

You take a moment to admire him, sneaking a hand up the side of his neck and digging your fingers into the meticulous curls at the back of his head, just to see his hairs stand on end. "Well, it's only natural."

Cassian doesn't waste any time. He presses his lips against yours in a kiss not meant to savor, but to ravage. He returns the favor, sneaking a hand beneath your waistcoat and loosening its buckle.

He soon finds lip pressing too boring, or maybe too innocent, and quickly kicks things up a notch. His hand finds the small of your back and presses you against him, not that you're not complacent. You push into him as well, fucking up those curls even more with a tug at his hair. Cassian doesn't let you tug him away from his lips, like a bull seeing red, he presses his lips harder against yours desperately.

His tongue finds your bottom lip first, then his teeth, and then when you take his hint and kiss him with tongue, you find a smile.

You let him sit you half-atop the table. You let him force his hand down the collar of your waistcoat and undo your buttons recklessly. You stop him, however, from taking off your shirt. He stops kissing you to pull away and raise a brow.

You huff a laugh in return, "Who are you, outside of our work, Calico?"

"Was that a trick question, Avery?" His eyebrows archs higher. You don't have to suffer its implications any further when he leans back down, but his lips fall short of yours. They find your chin instead, and follow down your neck. Down and down they go, with nips and teasing bites, before they stop right above the collar of your shirt.

Though, that is only because you're interrupted.

"Hands up, in the air."

You fight the urge to say "sir, yes sir" and by the smile on Cassian's face, you're sure he is too. The persona comes back on.

"Sorry, sorry," You laugh recklessly, your head tipping forward. To the guards pointing blasters at you, it looks like the weight of your head is too much to handle for your drunk self. "things were getting too hot for the dance floor."

"One more song and we'd have burnt a hole through the ground!" Cassian exclaims and you both laugh.

"Alright, alright, pack it up, let's go." A rough hand comes down on your shoulder, and as it drags you out of the room, you can only spare a glance at your partner.

There's a glint of amusement in his eyes. You'll never see him again, you're pretty sure of that, but when you eventually recall this memory, it'll be fun that you remember.

[mjrtaurus]

Garp had the displeasure of meeting with Figarland Garling a small handful of times prior to God Valley. He would have initially made a comment on the sheer stupidity of his hairstyle, but regrettably and surprisingly that wasn't the most stand-out feature of the man.

No, that would be the look in his eyes. It was a cross between the most contemptuous boredom and thinly veiled bloodlust. Like every moment this guy was restraining himself from carving apart everyone in the room and spitting on their corpses. And the arrogance. Or course, Celestial Dragons were arrogant but most of them didn't have the strength to back up their pretentions. This man did and he knew it. And he made sure everyone else knew it too.

Whatever delegation was going on must have been truly fucking boring, because Garling looked over at Garp and asked if the rumors were true about him knowing a sky woman. Garp, being young and hot-headed as ever responded the typical Monkey D way of "so what if I do?" (his superiors would later drag him over the coals for such flippancy, not the first time and far from the last).

Garling just. Chuckled. Said that she was lucky she was here in the Blue sea. Because some day, Garling wanted to be able to ascend to the sky and slice down every single sky denizen in his path. Remind them that only the celestial bloodlines should be permitted to exist in the heavens. And when he was done, having razed their cities and turned the clouds as crimson as his hair he would hack the wings off every Skypiean and have them weaved into a feather cloak that would be passed down through the Figarland family for years to come.

Years later when Garp catches sight of the red-haired baby Garp 'coincidentally' acquired after God Valley, he breathes a sigh of relief knowing that such a cloak will never rest on this boy's shoulders.

He’d heard old tales from the religious types that still survived the “apotheosis” of the Celestial Dragons about angels with numerous sets of wings and thousands of pairs of eyes… whenever he thinks about Garling’s “cloak” he thinks about those stories with unease and worries for his son.

He and Sen did their best to scrub the knowledge of Dragon’s wings from the records, but there wasn’t a damn thing they could hide from the Holy Knights.

He remembers on one of those fateful meetings, when Dragon first defected, the Figarland patriarch gave him a sound and ugly warning. If that half-breed mongrel of his couldn’t keep his head low and his mouth shut, his wings would be the first to go. And since Garp is the one who failed to properly train the little creature, he would get a front row seat to the show as penance for his crimes.

Garp was so, so, so close to losing his life that day. He would have died without question, but he would have done his damndest to take the pompous bastard down with him.

He’s glad he didn’t. Otherwise Garp wouldn’t have been there to send one of those red-headed boys off to Roger. He knew that mustachioed madman would see a treasure chest and go for it. That was about the only predictable part about him.

He worries about the other one, though. That one… that one scares him.

[sckuik]

Sunflower

(ᴗ_ ᴗ。)

Tw : atsumu being a dumbass

disclaimer: English isn't my first language, reader has curly hair and is a girl

------------

she hated him.

and he hated her.

"Seriously, you need to watch the next volleyball match that's coming," he exclaimed to his brother, closing his locker.

"Volleyball isn't that good be for real," [yn] said with a scoff.

Atsumu turned his head like someone had insulted his whole bloodline. "Did someone ask you?" he retorted.

She closed her locker, her books in her arms, "Well, it's hard for everyone to ignore your takes on volleyball when you speak so loud!" she exclaimed

Atsumu was pissed off. His face scrunched as he heard her loud exclamation.

this girl really pissed him off....

He clicked his tongue in annoyance

"You're just jealous because everyone likes me. You should focus on your appearance more."

[yn] let out a heartfelt laugh. "Oh, you wanna talk about appearance?" "Because we start on that subject, I don't think you'll come out alive of it."

Atsumu scoffed.

"As if you're better! You're too short for a girl! That big curly hair just really looks too weird!" Atsumu retorted, clearly annoyed.

"Oh, you wanna play like that and talk about hair and height?" she yelled, getting closer to him. "You look like a sunflower with your yellow hair and your tall height, I wonder why bees haven't noticed you yet!" she laughed.

Atsumu's expression went red with anger when [yn] talked about his hair colour. He scoffed and sneered at her, "At least I look good, and I'm tall! Unlike you, you're so short and weird! And you have big curly hair that makes you look like a clown!"

He couldn't stand [yn]'s playful teasing, and his own ego was being hurt by her words.

"A clown!?" she repeated

"At least people like me and find me funny, unlike you, they found you annoying and loud," she said, looking proud.

[yn] and atsumu were both known in school. their usual banter were almost everyday, they were fighting every day.

Atsumu's face turned red with anger as [yn] brought up his unpopularity with their classmates. He pointed his finger at her and shouted,

"You think you're better than me just because you're popular, huh?! Well, let me tell you something, you're just as annoying and irritating as I am! And your hair is just stupid and big."

"again on the hair" she cooed. "Atsumu atsumu,.." she tapped him on the shoulder.

"You really should look up some good comebacks, for once it might make you look more intelligent!" she laughed before walking away

Atsumu was left standing there, seething with anger. He couldn't believe her boldness in pointing out his lack of intelligence. Sure, he was arrogant and often underestimated others, but he didn't need to be reminded of his flaws.

Fuming, he yelled out towards [yn]'s retreating figure, "You think you're so smart, huh? You just wait! I'll show you one day!"

After that day, as atsumu went to school, he made it his mission to prove to [yn] that he was the one in control.

He would taunt and tease her at every opportunity, hoping to break her spirit and make her feel small and inferior. He wanted her to see that he was the superior one and that she was just a nuisance to him. His anger and pride fueled his actions, and he didn't care if his words or actions were hurtful.

of course [yn] didn't care about his remarks. but the next day, she arrived at school with a ponytail, making her hair less visible.

she noticed him and decided to stay out of trouble with him for now. but he didn't think the same.

Atsumu was surprised by the change in [yn]'s hairstyle. He expected her to come in with her usual big hair, which he hated so much. Instead, she came in with her hair in a ponytail, which made her look more sophisticated and mature.

However, he couldn't let go of his arrogance and pride. He sneered and pointed at her hair. "Oh, look who decided to finally tie up their big, wild hair. Did you finally realize how ridiculous you looked before?"

she looked at him with a smirk on her face

His remark didn't have any effects on her,(maybe) and she knew that it was pissing him off.

"And I see who didn't remember my advice to their hair. Look who's been listening instead of thinking about a better comeback."

"I guess I have better skills than you in some domains" she smiles devilishly at him

Atsumu's face scrunched up as he heard her remark. He hated that she didn't seem to care about what he said, and he felt insulted that she had better skills in anything. He crossed his arms and scoffed.

"Don't get too cocky, [yn]. Just because you know how to style your hair and I don't, doesn't mean you have better skills in anything. I bet you can't even beat me in academics or sports!" he taunted, feeling the need to prove himself.

she smirked, "So you admit that you can't style your hair, sunflower."

Atsumu's face turned red with anger, and she teased him about his hair again. He clenched his fists and glared at her. "That's not what I meant, and you know it! And who are you calling sunflower, you big-haired freak?!"

"and on the hair again and again" she laughed

"Go ahead, try to find something better than my hair, since I'm so annoying you'll have to find something else !" she stated proudly

Atsumu gritted his teeth and thought for a moment.

He realized that he was getting too predictable with his insults, and he needed to switch things up to mess with her. He smirked and said, "Fine, let's not talk about your hair then. How about we talk about your fashion sense? I mean, look at what you're wearing today. It looks like you just picked the first thing you saw in your closet this morning."

"atsumu, I'm wearing the schools uniform. "

Atsumu paused for a moment, realizing his mistake. "Oh, right... the uniform."

He cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling embarrassed that he had made such a dumb mistake. "Well, then what about your personality? You're arrogant, annoying, and condescending. I mean, who likes a girl who pretends to be better than everyone else?"

She burst out laughing. " Well, that's a new one, atsumu. You have a worse personality than me. You're annoying, bratty, and arrogant"

"I mean, I'm no better, but who'd like a boyfriend that pathetic?" she chuckled evily

Atsumu's face scrunched up in anger at her words. He couldn't believe that she had the nerve to insult his personality like that, especially considering how terrible hers was.

"You're one to talk, [yn]. You're just as annoying, bratty, and arrogant as I am. And what makes you think you're so much better than me? Just because you're smart, pretty, and popular? Is that what you think is important in life?" he retorted, feeling hurt and defensive.

she was about to exclaim how annoying he was when it hit her.

" you think I'm pretty?" she asked, looking lost.

He didn't expect her to react that way to his words. "What? No, I don't think you're pretty! I was just... I mean.."

He stumbled over his words, feeling flustered and embarrassed. He didn't want to admit that he thought [yn] was pretty because it would mean giving in to his feelings for her. He quickly tried to cover up.

"Stop trying to make me say things I don't mean! I was just making a point!"

"No, no, I'll take the compliment!" she smiled at him

Atsumu's face was red with embarrassment as she smiled at him. He couldn't believe he had let his true feelings slip out, even if only for a moment.

He tried to play it off with a scowl. "What are you so happy about? Do you think I actually think you're pretty or something? Don't be ridiculous!"

"I'm not the one who said that. You're the one that admitted it !" she laughed

For her, it was a pleasure to mess with him like that.

but don't worry, Atsumu, I'll try not to brag about it."

she then turned around and yelled to her friends, "Hey yall, atsumu finds me pretty!!"

she then looked at him with a soft smile. "You're not too bad yourself sunflower"

Atsumu's face turned red with horror as Nessie yelled out to her friends about his slip-up. He couldn't believe she had just done that to him. "[yn]! Stop that right now! Don't you dare tell anyone else!" he exclaimed, feeling humiliated and embarrassed.

As she turned back to him with a soft smile and said that he wasn't too bad himself, Atsumu felt his heart flutter for a moment. He quickly tried to hide his embarrassment by rolling his eyes and scoffing.

As the day went on, Atsumu couldn't get [yn]'s words out of his head. He found himself stealing glances at her during class.

When class was over, he watched as her laughed and chatted with her friends, feeling envious. Why did she have to be so social and popular?

He gritted his teeth and turned away. but despite trying his best to ignore her, [yn] had somehow invaded his thoughts, and he couldn't shake her from his mind.

As the day went by, [yn] couldn't help but think about how Atsumu said she was pretty.

why was it so hard to shake the thought from her mind, she hated him, she hates everything about him. His lanky height, his neon yellow hair, his horrible smug and his dark Hazel eyes.

She couldn't help but think about how casual he said that she was pretty. Was she really pretty? She didn't know, but she knew that he told her that as a bad remark, but why was he so flustered when he realised?

After school, Atsumu stayed behind to practice his serves. He needed something to take his mind off her, and hitting serves was the best way to do that. But as he hit each ball, his thoughts kept wandering back to [yn]. He replayed the moment when she had called him "sunflower" and how she had laughed at him. He hated how she always seemed to have the upper hand in their interactions.

As [yn] walked to her next class, she couldn't shake off the feeling of curiosity about Atsumu's seemingly genuine compliment. Even though she knew he was just trying to be annoying as always, there was something about the way he said it that made her wonder if there was more to it than just a simple insult. "Don't be ridiculous," she muttered to herself. "He's just trying to get under your skin like always."

As Atsumu walked out of the gym, he saw her walking ahead of him. He couldn't help but follow her at a distance, feeling oddly drawn to her. He watched as she walked confidently to her next class. Why did she have to be so confident and self-assured? Why couldn't he be more like that? He frowned and quickened his pace, catching up to her. He was about to say something snarky when she spoke up first.

"That's creepy to follow someone around like that, sunflower"

she said as she turned around to face him. "What's with the face?"

Atsumu was taken aback by her remarks, he had forgotten how quick-tempered and rude she could be. "I wasn't following you, I was just heading the same way as you," he said defensively. "And my face is normal, but i was just thinking..--"

"You can think?!" she gasped theatrically

"Of course I can think! Do you think I'm some kind of mindless brute because I play volleyball?" he asked, offended.

"no I actually find volleyball cool," she said nonchalantly.

"You--you're for real?" he asked, feeling proud and intrigued.

"Of course!" she exclaimed "The spikes, the blocks, the serves, that's really cool,"

"doesn't mean you're cool, though." she said with a smirk.

Atsumu felt a little disappointed that [yn] had insulted him again, but he couldn't help but be pleased that she found volleyball interesting.

"Well, maybe you should come to one of our matches sometime. You'll get to see some of the cool stuff you mentioned," he said, trying to be nonchalant.

"Yeah, I'll come," she said nonchalantly, too.

Atsumu's eyes widened. Wait, she was serious? she really wanted to come? wait, why did he cares though..it's not like it mattered..

"When is it?" she asked."Tonight, at 8pm, don't be late." he answered.

"I will be late." she retorted as he rolled his eyes.

To be honest, [yn] took almost 2 hours to look presentable for this match. Why? because she wanted to feel pretty, of course..no other reason at all.. of course.

it was about 7:30pm and she decided to go to the gym earlier.

She made her way through the gym, quieter than a mouse, the fact that a lot of people were here made it easier.

then she spotted him, surrounded by girls squealing his name. [yn] felt a pang of jealousy in her heart.

Atsumu caught a glimpse of her as he made his way to the field.

He was taken aback to see her there, having assumed she wouldn't show up. He tried to put on a confident façade, but inside, he was nervous about how she would react to seeing him play. He watched as she made her way to the seats and tried to focus on the game, hoping she wouldn't see how anxious he was.

As the match started, Astumu's team was more than ready. They marked multiple points.

[yn] kept a low profile until Astumu marked a point, and there she was cheering loudly for him.

Atsumu was surprised to hear [yn]'s cheer among the crowd. her enthusiasm for his point caught him off guard. He couldn't help but smile to himself, feeling a sense of satisfaction that he had impressed her, even if it was just a little.

He glanced over to where she was sitting and gave her a wink, feeling a bit cocky for a moment.

She didn't like him, so why did she notice his wink, and why did she blush?

she felt her cheeks getting red and sat down rapidly. She was getting embarrassed. Why was she acting like that if she didn't like him? It was just a playful wink, nothing else, nothing more!

As the game continued, Atsumu felt his heart racing every time he saw she jumped up to cheer for him. He couldn't believe he was enjoying her attention so much. He felt a sense of pride and confidence, knowing that she was watching him play. Despite their bickering and insults, he was starting to feel something for her that he hadn't expected. He didn't want the game to end. he wanted to bask in her attention for as long as he could.

as the game finished, and as atsumu's team won, [yn] didn't know what to do. Should she go over to congratulate him? or should she stay here. her thoughts were racing, and she was stuck. But her thoughts were quieted down rapidly by atsumu yelling her name.

"[yn]! I'm surprised you came, and I even saw you cheering for me. That's a first.." he said playfully.

She looked over at him with a puzzled face, she was just lost about her feeling but quickly gained composure.

"Of course I came, but I didn't see you fail, so I'm quite sad about that." she said sarcastically

and there she was again, making fun of him. Why was she like this!?

"And I wasn't cheering for you, but for the other members of your team, like your brother."

"Oh, come on," Atsumu teased. "You were practically jumping out of your seat every time I scored a point. You can't deny it, you love watching me play."

she paused a moment, she did liked the match, but her attention was only focused on atsumu.

"Yeah no, I liked the match, not you" she scoffed.

but it was a lie.

"anyways, I'm sad that you didn't lose, but I'm happy that your brother won.'' she smirked evily 'that's all.."

Atsumu's expression darkened as she mentioned his brother. "Don't bring Osamu into this," he grumbled, feeling a pang of jealousy. "And who said I didn't play well? I scored plenty of points too, you know..."

she smirked at the fact that her plan was working.

"no actually I'm bringing osamu, I might want an autograph from him!" she said, winking at him

He clenched his fists, feeling a surge of jealousy and annoyance.

"No way in hell," he said through clenched teeth. "You're not getting an autograph from my brother."

why was he so worked up about it! it was only an autograph..but no, it was more than that. The fact that [yn] talked about another boy, his brother, made him jealous.

she smiled at him, she could feel the tension bringing up between the two of them.

why did she like this? why was she wondering how bad it could get.

"Got a problem, sunflower?"

"yes I do," he admitted. "If you want an autograph, get it from me, and no one else."

"Oh so you're possessive. i see.." she laughed

"I'm not possessive.." his irritation only increased as he heard her laugh. He hated the way she could make him feel so worked up so easily.

"You're such a pain in the ass," he grumbled, clenching his fists even tighter. "Why do you always have to tease and rile me up like this?"

"mmh, because it's easy!" she laughed again.

Atsumu could feel his frustration building to the breaking point as she continued to laugh. He couldn't understand why she took such pleasure in getting under his skin.

"You're a complete pain in the ass, you know that?" he repeated through gritted teeth. "But for some reason, I can never seem to get you out of my head."

The words slipped out before he could stop himself, and he felt a mix of annoyance and embarrassment at his own confession.

her eyes widened at his confession, and her heart skipped a beat.

"what?" she said, looking lost.

it was the second time that atsumu said something flattering nessie, which was weird considering their enemies status

"I can't get out of your mind?"

And by that, their enemies' status was being toss sideways.

-------

Hiii, this is my first "one shot." If we can call it that, thank you for reading it! I hope it wasn't too bad...

[cloakandfire]

GUNDAM PERFECT FILE #85

Zechs’ File Highlights

Summary: orphaned child of an absolute pacifist nation who sought his own path to peace

Noin’s File Highlights

Summary: female officer who conducted herself as a soldier but never forgot to love

Noin is an excellent soldier and MS instructor. She taught with the strictness of a soldier and the attention to detail of a woman, and as a result, many of her students possess superior technical and mental skills and are highly regarded within OZ. She is seen as a great contributor to OZ’s expansion. [1]

Though highly respected, she desired neither promotion nor glory, but something more personal: be near Zechs and support him in his endeavors.

Zechs was the only one who understood her, and his recognition was all she needed.

Oddly enough, the text says that did not know Zechs’ true identity while talking about Operation Daybreak. [2]

Noin admired Zechs and she respected him as her superior officer and thus did not want to bring her romantic feelings to the battlefield.

Fully supporting Zechs was Noin’s way of expressing her love. Even after Zechs left, her feelings remained unchanged.

However, going by normal expectations of how a soldier should be, i.e., following orders without question, putting aside the “self” to serve the organization, Noin, despite her brilliance, may ultimately have failed as one. [3]

She agreed with OZ’s revolutionary spirit and was distressed by the way the UESA suppressed the colonies by force.

Clashing with Zechs up in space, she confronted him knowing that she was the only one who could stop him from spiraling out of control.

She posses an unexpectedly sharp memory. She can remember every particular detail about Zechs. [4]

Her asymmetrical bangs are her signature. Soldiers would normally keep their hair short, but she may have wanted to create a more feminine look. [5]

Her sharp, almond-shaped eyes are striking, and reflect the strength of her will. There is a gentle light in them whenever she looked at Zechs. [6]

The cowboy outfit explained: slim jeans and a shirt with stitching that emphasized mobility. She is a woman of action, after all. [7]

Notes:

This was already a given, and Zechs even mentions it over the comms in Episode 4 (effectively revealing that why yes, he does keep tabs on her), but it’s always nice to see it in print, mentioned as part of her profile.

We all know this to be false as she called him his real name (basically spoiling it) as early as Episode 4. It was only in FT where it was ever mentioned that Noin may not possibly know his true identity, but that was when she was 10/11. Even so, it was highly unlikely that she didn’t already know then when Treize and Elv have figured it out. (Elv to Zechs: “You’re shit at hiding yourself.”)

Noin has talent and is really good at what she does, but being a soldier never really suit her due to her own personal values and overall attitude towards war. Not to mention that her loyalty was not with Treize or OZ. It may have been, once upon a time, but her allegiance had long shifted to Zechs.

Which is why Noin POV’s are great for flashbacks. SRW also has it that Noin’s memory is what makes her terrifying at chess, because she can memorize patterns and move sets.

What I love about Episode Zero and FT is that it shows Noin growing her bangs. xD Anyway. Love love the hairstyle! And I love the implication that despite her attempts to hide behind a more masculine image, she’s still very much feminine. (Because she really is. According to Chisa Yokoyama, Noin is the most feminine of the female characters. Actually, just the fact that Chisa Yokoyama is her VA says a lot.)

I love Noin’s eyes. I get all hot and bothered when they narrow, and when they soften I just melt. I love it when the books make special mention of her features because my god what a beautiful woman.

The tassles to emphasize movement? Ok, I guess. I get that they were going for a space cowboy look in that last arc, but. Um. Ok. (Spaghetti Western, hey-o. Thank you @pineappleglazedham for informing me of its existence.)