#and apparently it was the first song they ever practiced together when they were training so its sentimental to them😭😭💞💞

[wumutummy]

I had a dream last night that XLOV performed shutdown at some type of award show or something, big stage, a whole production, back up dancers and everything, dance break and XLOV in your area and all that

It was really nice imagining XLOV on such a big stage at a big event and receiving so much love♡

[ackermanrage]

Hello there!! It's my first time requesting here^^ How about a jealous Levi?? Because hange flirts with the reader to tease and have a revenge to Levi because she lost a bet (Fluff)

ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴇ, ʀ���ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ

levi ackerman x fem!reader warnings: none :) an: HAHAHA levi would totally be mad if hange ever flirted with reader, hes just possessive like that.

A bet between Levi and Hange that spiraled out of boredom, pettiness, and too many late nights doing paperwork.

“Come on, shortstack,” Hange had grinned, arms crossed and eyes alight with mischief. “We both know I could finish this stack faster and still write my name neater.”

Levi narrowed his eyes, offended to his core. “Your handwriting looks like a dying chicken broke loose on the page.”

“Okay, rude,” they huffed. “All I’m hearing is ‘I’m scared of losing.’”

“You want to race?”

They blinked. “...Wait, are you serious?”

“Moblit can time it,” he said, already moving. “You finish your pile. I finish mine. Loser takes the other’s stable duty for a week.”

“And?”

“And…”

That’s when you walked into the room, notepad in hand, completely unaware of what you were walking into.

Hange’s eyes lit up like they just remembered something very useful.

“And the loser has to annoy the winner in the most ridiculous way possible. But not just any annoying. Annoying enough to make them regret winning.”

Levi looked you over. His eyes softened briefly before flicking back to Hange with suspicion. “You already have a plan.”

“Maybe,” they sing-songed. “Deal or not?”

Levi shrugged. “Fine. Don’t cry when I win.”

You stood there, confused, as they slammed down papers and started writing like maniacs while Moblit acted as an impartial judge.

---

The Next Day

The morning started off normal enough, quiet halls, hot tea, and Levi unusually in a good mood after winning a stupid bet against Hange the night before. You didn’t know the details, but apparently it involved some bet over paperwork efficiency.

So when Hange showed up at the mess hall with a sparkle of vengeance in her glasses and a suspiciously sweet tone, you should’ve known something was up.

"Good morning, gorgeous~" they sang, sliding onto the bench beside you. Practically leaned their whole body into yours, dramatic and grinning.

You blinked. "...Me?"

"Of course you, sweetheart," they cooed. “Looking absolutely radiant today. What’s your secret? New shampoo? Or are you just glowing?”

“What are you doing,” you asked slowly.

“Being charming,” they grinned. “Also, revenge.”

"...What?"

Levi, who had just stepped into the room holding two mugs of tea, one for him and one for you, paused mid-step. His eyes narrowed instantly.

You barely managed to hold back a snort as Hange turned the charm up to maximum. They tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear with exaggerated care. “We should train together later. Or not train. We could just... talk about life. Or stargaze. Or I could stare into your beautiful—”

Hange leaned in dramatically, voice dropping a full octave. “You know, if I weren’t such a loyal friend, I’d steal you right out from under Levi’s nose.”

"Hange." Levi’s voice was sharp, flat, and completely unimpressed.

“Oh, look who it is~” Hange cooed without looking. “The winner of our little bet. Jealous yet?”

He approached slowly, set the mug in front of you, and eyed them like they were a fly that just landed in his cup. “You lost. This isn’t part of the deal.”

“Oh, but it is,” Hange giggled, tossing their arm around your shoulders. “Loser’s punishment was to be annoying, remember? I'm just doing my job. Plus—" she looked at you with faux adoration, “—you’re a very fun way to be annoying.”

Levi’s glare could have cut diamonds. “Stop touching her.”

“I haven’t even started yet,” Hange chirped, "She smells good, doesn’t she? Like vanilla and danger.”

Your entire face heated. “Okay, Hange—”

“No,” Levi said flatly, sliding onto the bench beside you with all the grace of a predator reclaiming territory. “That’s enough.”

“Ohhhh,” Hange drawled, barely containing their glee. “Is Captain Levi jealous? Is he going to pout?”

Levi’s jaw flexed.

“Hange,” you said with a grin, clearly enjoying yourself now, “you sure you want to be starting wars you can’t win?”

“Sweetheart, I already won. Look at his face.”

Levi leaned closer to you, eyes still fixed on them, and placed a deliberate hand on your knee under the table. You felt your breath catch.

He still didn’t say much. Just calmly lifted his tea and muttered under his breath, “Touch her again and you’ll be on cleaning duty for a month.”

Hange blinked. “Oho. So this is what it takes to rattle him. Fascinating.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “You’re really going all out, huh?”

“Petty bets require petty revenge,” they declared proudly, hopping up. “Mission accomplished. Have fun with your sulky boyfriend~!”

“Get out,” Levi called after them as they skipped away, cackling to themselves.

Once Hange was gone, you turned to him with a teasing smile. “Sooo…you’re not jealous, right?”

He sipped his tea. “I’m not jealous.”

“You’re sulking.”

“I’m not sulking. I just don’t like when someone touches what’s mine.”

That made your heart flip. “Yours, huh?”

He turned his head slightly, eyes soft but burning. “You already know that.”

You leaned into him, teasing. “Mmm, say it again.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll start giggling like an idiot and tell Hange I got all flustered.”

You beamed. “So you are flustered.”

He glared at you, deadpan. “Do you want your tea or not?”

You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Captain. For the tea and the jealousy.”

He froze at the kiss — ears just barely turning pink — before finally muttering, “Next time she tries that, I’ll kill her.”

“Gotta catch her first.” you laughed.

“I will.” levi said with a slight scowl.

“You’re lucky I like possessive men,” you whispered.

“And you’re lucky I don’t kill people over dumb bets.”

taglist: @lvstyangel @alebrasil0101 @creati-bunny @porcelain-soupspoon4 @r4td0lll @wedypopcytragedy @nxcxllxsevens @levkuna @glads-stuff @bnbaochauuu @maskedbunni

©ackermanrage - please do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work!

[ms-demeanor]

In my college American poetry class we had to do memorized readings of three poems, one of the ones I chose was Langston Hughes' "Weary Blues" because I'd already built a dramatic performance of it in high school.

This was an interesting college class because it was tiny (16 students at the start of the quarter, 12 at the end) and because it was *poetry* a lot of people in the class fudged the readings and did them the day of class, which meant that they weren't really prepared to discuss them. After two excruciating classes in a row where I was the only person ready to discuss the readings (in the second class I literally had to sit on my hands to keep myself from trying to speak after the professor said "Alli cannot answer for the rest of the hour, somebody else say something" and then nobody did for another ten minutes of the most awkward silence I have ever encountered), the professor brought in lyric sheets for "Summertime" from Porgy and Bess.

He started the class with our normal written quiz, then asked who was ready to talk. I was, because of course I was, but nobody else raised their hands.

"If you're not going to talk, then you're going to sing," he said, and handed out lyrics to everyone. "We are all adults, and we have an adult agreement that you will read the assignments and be prepared to discuss them, and I will lead discussions and teach you about the readings. You are not holding up your end of the agreement like adults, so I'm treating you like children, and your participation for the last three classes will not be based on your quizzes - which is good news for a lot of you - but on doing a sing-along today. So I'm going to sing this first, then we're going to sing it five times together, and then we're going to talk about the song together, and you are going to do your readings before my next class or I am going to be handing out more lyrics and we'll sing another song together like kindergartens."

That class is why the four students who dropped did so, but everyone who stayed was prepared for discussions for the rest of the quarter.

Anyway, that was before our second poetry presentation so by that point I'd already sung with these people and had no shame, so i decided I was going to actually sing the singer's part in "Weary Blues."

I recorded it on my phone and asked my friend Lindsey, who was in the class and happened to be a choir director, to listen to it and tell me if it sounded terrible. She said that it did not and asked if I had any vocal training and I said no and she said "you should join a choir" and i felt very flattered and continued practicing and memorizing the poem.

We had to give critiques of each person's performance, and most people were generally polite like you normally would be when giving feedback, but apparently one young woman was still pissed at me for being a suck-up and doing the assigned readings.

"First of all i couldn't even pay attention to the rest of the poem because you sound like a man. I think singing was a weird choice and singing like a man made it impossible for me to take your reading seriously" and i was a bit surprised (so were other people) but simply said "thank you, that's good to know, i was trying to sound like a man because the speaker in the poem describes the singer as a man, it's good to know i hit that mark" and we moved on.

Lindsey and the professor both checked in on me at the end of class, Lindsey to say "practice made that sound really really really good you should join a choir" and the professor to say "i was leery when you asked to sing part of your poem, i don't usually allow that but I'm glad i did" and both to ask if I was upset by the other student's comments.

I was not upset. Mentally i was jumping up and down and doing backflips and was bummed because the other student was probably just being mean and didn't actually think my voice sounded masculine.

But now I'm finding videos with titles like "is that my mom or a dude? Learning about the contralto range" and I'm like haha wait yeah, gender euphoria is stored in the vocal cords.

[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. 

[captainventi]

Stars On Ice

The new season of Stars on Ice, a hit reality show where celebrities learn to skate alongside professional figure skaters, kicks off! Fateful encounters, first steps on the ice, grueling training sessions, and dazzling performances await the star-studded participants. And, of course, their main goal is to make an unforgettable first impression.

Episode 1. Alejandro (Lady Gaga)

Pairing: celebrity!Rafayel x figure skater!MC

Synopsis: A wildly popular actor and model dives into a figure skating show with contagious enthusiasm — but while he grapples with the slippery world of ice, his partner, a former Olympic skater, must figure out how to channel his flair for drama.

CW: figure skating!au, fluff, innuendos and light tension, maybe a bit of public embarrassment

Notes: this is one of the first episodes of the planned oneshot series that I hope I eventually finish. Post with all episodes (as soon as I write them) here. Rafayel header from pinterest, dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

What. The. Hell.

That’s the only thought left in my mind when Rafayel strolls out of the costume room, smug as ever, wearing a sparkling leather jacket over a bare chest. By now, I’ve mostly gotten used to the fact that he’s fully aware of how attractive he is — and not the least bit shy about using it — but apparently, for our first dance, he’s dead set on making the audience feel like they’ve been hit by a bomb.

"You look amazing," he says, giving me a once-over in my black onesie before I can even comment on his outfit. "I think Lady Gaga would be proud of us."

And that’s Rafayel in a nutshell. Judges' scores? Whatever. But if somehow our routine under Gaga’s song manages to impress the Queen herself — oh, that would send him straight to cloud nine.

He lightly taps my cheek, probably out of some dumb habit leftover from all those cheesy rom-com roles he’s played. Being around Rafayel feels like falling straight into a rom-com by default — like suddenly you’re the shy girl who accidentally caught the hottest guy in school’s attention, even though shyness has never exactly been my thing. I once read a story by Woodhouse about a grim detective writer who, after staying at his late aunt’s mansion — a woman famous for her sugary romance novels — found himself almost marrying a delicate maiden under the influence of some strange sentimental aura. Well, I’m starting to think something like that happens on a biochemical level around Rafayel as well.

Alright then. A good moment to test my willpower.

"Come on, disco king," I sigh, grabbing his hand. Our first performance is about to begin.

I guess I don’t need to clarify who picked the music. It was all decided the second he swaggered out of the locker room at our very first practice — hands stuffed in his pockets, big purple headphones on, lazily humming, "Don’t call my name, don’t call my name, Roberto," shoulders swaying to the beat. He was blissfully convinced that his natural grace and dance skills would carry over onto the ice, that he’d just ride the musical waves and nail a flawless freestyle.

Spoiler: ice isn’t a dance floor or a runway.

I barely managed to catch him when he started to teeter dangerously without even managing to strike a pose.

"Looks like you’re my guardian angel," he grinned, making no particular effort to step out of my half-wrestling, half-saving hold. "Miss Guardian Angel. That’s what I’m calling you from now on."

And tell me, honestly — how is any sane woman supposed to react to that?..

By the time of our first show, the questionable rom-com tension was practically crackling in the air. Rafayel and I had been collaborating all over TikTok, which honestly helped a lot — when he suggested we practice dancing together off the ice too, to get better synchronized, I had no real reason to say no. You could say we were thoroughly prepared for our debut, ready to blow up both the rink and the internet — even if we screwed up.

Naturally, we do screw up.

Not immediately, though — gotta give Rafayel some credit: he had worked hard to pick up the basics over three weeks. Plus, him being a model and a dancer shows — he looks fantastic on the ice, even with limited skills. He handles the lift pretty well too — and even manages to find a moment, in the spirit of Gaga’s song and music video, to run his hand sensually along my body, making me arch involuntarily with an audible crack from an old spinal injury.

It all, predictably, goes downhill when he gets too into the music and the atmosphere — and just like during practice, loses his balance. And just like then, I throw myself forward to catch him — my hands accidentally, totally accidentally, sliding right under his raised jacket and over his firm, toned torso.

Turns out Rafayel can blush. Discovery of the day.

The crowd screams so loud they practically drown out the music, and the showrunners are probably already calculating how to spike the ratings off this, but honestly? We couldn’t care less. I’m too busy trying to calm my hammering pulse and not to think about the possibility of tomorrow’s headlines screaming "Olympic Medalist Gropes Celebrity Live on Air." Especially since said celebrity looks far from upset — on the contrary, he skates with double the energy afterward.

And when we finally make it back after all the scores and interviews, he winks at me, grinning like he’s just had the best birthday party of his life:

"Well, Miss Guardian Angel, that was awesome. How about we keep this up all season?"

[johntayjinf]

take me on

rrthiel - athletic (ym2151 + ymz280b)

i was inspired so i wrote a vocal mix! ack

for anyone who wants the commentary:

the pain of vocal production on a tracker with simple detuning controls

no, genuinely i can't tell you how frustrating the vocals were to tune; first i set the entire project to 435hz (440 is the default tuning that every single daw in existence uses), but the consequence of that is that it also lightly detuned every single sample, making timing very difficult to manage. i felt like the devil having to artificially extend my vocals to fit both the timing and get the tuning right, but you win some you lose some i guess.

on top of that i feel very unsure about my own vocal performance and there'd be a few noticeable tuning mistakes, i think? i mean before i tuned them again tonight they were even worse, but apparently the trick to that is just to listen to them outside my headphones; because listening to the lower frequencies to tune vocals isn't going to give great results. or maybe that's just me and my habits. my shit phone audio that exposed the mid frequencies did a good job at telling me that, "hey, you tune terrible for a gal that likes to say she does music production to people when you like silly video games and music that came out before you were even conceived"

venus theory made a very good point about having a "shitbox" (like, a boombox that is shit) so it exposes frequencies you would've never heard otherwise, and that was quite the enlightening experience to say the least. i wouldn't say my tuning is terrible; frankly i think it's fairly okay for someone with informal training and practice, but i genuinely didn't expect to go so out of tune in my one (yes, one) take of the main vocals... and then i learnt that way that the voice that you think you're singing varies widely with what's actually produced from your vocal cords, your mouth shape, and how much air you put into it. needless to say this was a really good, and *horrifying* learning experience, and hopefully this means more vocal covers and originals in the future.

as for the lyrics, i was going for the "mindless 80s love song" cheesy lovey dovey kind, and was inspired slowly after a few listens of the og song. it's not my first time writing english lyrics, but it's fair to say that it's really rare coming from me.

Lyrics

sometimes i feel like i'm afraid of heights

(don't look down now)

sometimes i feel like i wanna hold you tight

oh you would never know the sight,

because right now we're so high we could almost die

but now you're here with me, i'm like on ecstasy

if anything ever happens i won't mind

'cause with the two of us, our hearts combined

we'll always have our time to shine

together we can find a place or run away

it's okay

you could pretend that we would be so far

but i will find my way 'cause you're my north star

i hope that you and i are on par

i don't wanna put my feelings in a jar

is it just my mind that is pacing, my chest that is aching

the things i wanna say could be said everyday

is it just my heart that is racing, the love we'll be sharing

and we will never say goodbye

you see that all is fine,

now put your worries all aside

[guitar solo]

'cause with the two of us, our hearts combined

we'll always have our time to shine

together we can find a place or run away

it's okay

you could pretend that we would be so far

but i will find my way 'cause you're my north star

i hope that you and i are on par

i don't wanna put my feelings in a jar

is it just my mind that is pacing, my chest that is aching

the memories we'll make will never fade

is it just my heart that is racing, the love we'll be sharing

and i will always play my part

we should take on the charts,

or maybe begin from the start

[heelgripper]

Okay. So. I meant to send you an ask after the episode came out but I just had Too Many Thoughts And Feelings to fully parse— SO MUCH MCCABE. But after 9 (no joke, 9) listens to 3.02 and two reads of the transcript I’ve finally sorted my thoughts:

The propaganda drinking game is my new favorite thing. I keep thinking about what exactly the IGR and their mouthpieces have to say about McCabe and how McCabe feels about that. I’m actually pleasantly surprised that they’re able to joke about it with someone when during season I can see something like this totally destroying them. Way to be… well, healthy doesn’t feel like the right word but… we’ll go with healthier-than-they-could-be about this.

I’m also bummed that they don’t have alcohol. I kind of want to see McCabe drunk now.

The fact that Arkady and McCabe’s relationship is still hurting a bit after the incident at the end of s2 is sooo interesting in the context of 3.01 and the fact that they’ve spent so long on Mirzakhani together and apparently not talked about this. How long has Arkady been pretending she’s fully okay around McCabe? How long has McCabe been trying not to hate themself over the fact that she’s definitely not?

I hadn’t even considered the possibility of the loom getting pawned until someone else on here posted a fic that mentioned the possibility and now I’m going mad. Desperately need confirmation that the loom is okay or I will be taking hostages.

By the way, McCabe regularly checking the price on Brian’s head is soooo. It’s very them. Constantly practically assessing the threats to their friends without anyone else asking or apparently even thinking to do so. I love the way they love <3

I’ve been thinking about McCabe’s list of other things they’re good at genuinely nonstop since I heard it. It’s so, so, so… sad. They were good at so many things that probably brought them a lot of joy but they only trained at the one that was useful. And the reality is that that skill CONTINUES to be useful and to be the way they can most immediately help their crew in a lot of situations. God.

It’s also the fact that most of those pursuits are artistic and the fact that they don’t hesitate to pose as an art history teacher with rapid fire answers and opinions READY, not to even start on the weaving. I proposed “Working for the Knife” as a McCabe song after 3.01 about the “it’s nice to step away and create” line and it… well it continues to be more applicable. I hope they become a professional oboe player after all this.

And I hope they keep weaving. And I hope they start drawing again. I want them to draw beautiful portraits of all of their friends <3

Their conversation with Brian about poison is so… I keep thinking about the way both they and Brian contrast it to a quick and easy kill like a gun. The subtext of “not like a bullet in the head” being “not like how you do it” makes me feel insane. I’ve been trying to describe the tone of it and it almost feels… in some twisted way like shop talk? It’s not detached or clinical but it has a certain degree of practicality to it. This is a thing we’ve both done to survive, we do it differently and we feel differently about it.

Like… McCabe has talked some with Arkady about killing people, and Arkady’s in a similar boat to them. Arkady has killed a lot of people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, Arkady has killed friends. But Brian has killed people who objectively deserved it, whose deaths benefited people, and he doesn’t regret it. It’s an interesting contrast and a different perspective for McCabe to encounter. Obviously I don’t think McCabe should feel okay about their kills or ever will, but I think that hearing Brian talk about his… puts things in perspective a little more for them? In the weirdest way possible? Anyways

LOOK OUT FOR BEANS!

I’m also kind of not over how scared they sound when they’re first boarded. They had one job: to keep Brian safe. Now they’re worried that they’re not only going to die, but also fail. The horror. The scene really also puts into context how new at this McCabe is. They’ve spent most of their adult life in training and behind a desk and while they’ve had a few (notable, deadly) scrapes so far… they’re still a LOT less experienced in life or death situations than anyone else on the ship and it’s really fun to listen to them panic.

Been thinking a lot about Sana’s kill count too lately and now kind of want her and McCabe to talk about murder.

The fact that Arkady and McCabe are apparently talking about the benefits of ankle holsters is so so delicious. It’s funny but it’s also! Again, the idea of talking shop about this kind of thing is so interesting because the reality of it really is that… this is a part of their jobs and a part of what they do and it’s so so interesting to see that approached practically.

Okay. Now onto the Parkabe scene! Hooray! First of all… I do love McCabe’s sarcasm this ep “yeah they were real princes” / “good thing it’s only the boundary separating us from the void” and both of those (first one especially) were delivered WONDERFULLY.

I’m so… kind of losing my mind trying to figure out what McCabe thinks, feels, and knows re: Sana and Park and it’s great. In episode one they told Arkady that Park and Sana weren’t close, but in this episode they’re instantly able to guess that he learned welding from her… but they do sound genuinely surprised to learn that they’re dating. I’m looking like Charlie Day w my red string rn.

“Does everyone know?” Makes me crazy! I love that that’s their first thought! Wondering if they’re the only one left out of this information and wondering why… only to be pleasantly surprised that they are in fact amongst the first to be trusted. Their anxiety about it is soooo palpable that’s actually my favorite line read this episode so hats off.

But I also have to give a shoutout to “why are you telling me?” because it sounds sooooo. Giddy! I see you lol. It definitely read to me like the voice of someone with a tiny crush feeling awkward and giddy about getting closer to the person they like. Was it the intention? Probably not. Will it stop me from thinking about it a ton? Of course not.

I’m not quite as delusional about Parkabe canon as I was going into the episode but that’s not to say I don’t still have hope. If it happens I’m baking a cake.

I’m a little obsessed with the bit of McCabe slipping up and calling him sir so much? Because they really didn’t as much in season 2. They seemed to be a lot more on casual terms before Park left for Artemis and now… well they probably haven’t really talked in a while and my thinking is that maybe a part of McCabe sort of internalized that distance and that period of radio silence and kind of even less knew what to think of their relationship after that, hence reverting to professionalism.

Their conversation with Arkady is all just so… yeah. Kind of a summary of what I said in other parts of it but yeah, what she said. Their job sucks! It’s not good for them and they need to get out but… right now, it’s what’s best for everyone that they keep doing the shitty job. And oh boy do I have feelings about it. I hope they become an oboe player after this.

I truly love the friendship they have with Brian and Krejjh so much. It’s so important to me that they were able to instantly bond with and form a real friendship with two people on the crew so quickly. I hope they have fun playing I spy <3 (and maybe kiss? maybe? in my mind they kiss a little.)

McCabe’s Chuck Weathers impression has been living rent free in my head… eyebrow eyebrow eyebrow.

WOW THAT ENDED UP LONG. Sorry about that. Anyways, phenomenal episode! Seriously, great work. I’m so excited to hear the new one!

Sorry it took a while to respond to this, I'm ALMOST done with my last week of summer school, and then I'll be free to think podcast thoughts all I want!

I'm so glad you liked the episode!!! I've thought about many of these aspects of the episode too, like ... how does McCabe know so much about art history? What else are they good at? Are they going to quit being a space rebel sniper and go be a professional weaver?

And how hardcore is Brian? The nerves on that guy, for real! I do like that the show seriously discusses the ethical implications of killing people in different circumstances, with different methods, because Brian is SO lethal, but no one ever expects him to be.

The Brian and McCabe friendship stuff was some of my favorite this episode. Reading through the script makes me feel warm and fuzzy every time. <3

NO ONE saw Park/Sana coming, except apparently one fanartist from years ago, and when I saw that in the script of the first season 3 ep, I was like ... oh my God??? (In a good way, naturally).

And yes, the Park and McCabe undefinable relationship keeps being undefined. Truly, that is part of what makes it so interesting to me. McCabe could probably be Person of Honor at Park and Sana's space wedding and they'd still slip up and call Park "sir".

I think Arkady and McCabe have spent a few months being somewhere peaceful, carefully not confronting their difficulties around each other, and that's why they're like this all this time later. That's my theory, anyway. Man, they're both so badly adjusted! :P

Thanks for sharing your thoughts! They make episode drops feel even more special!

[satansapostle6]

Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Playlist Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Sexual content. Violence.

“The Baby Sister”

“The Family Legacy”

Rodrick couldn’t stop thinking about Sara in the past week since they first started to become friends. It was a sickness.

Today alone, he thought about her first thing in the morning, as he opened his eyes and woke up, as he was brushing his teeth(he hoped his breath didn’t smell bad), as he put on his deodorant(he hoped he didn’t smell bad), as he got dressed, while he drove to school, and all throughout his classes.

He knew he had to do something about his feelings for Sara, because they were really starting to become apparent to most of the other people in his life. This, of course, included his band mates, although Chris and Ben also had eyes for Sara Walter, just like any of the other boys who saw her. Rodrick figured the only reason Sara wasn’t as popular as Heather Hills was because she just didn’t want to be.

Sara spent most of her time in and out of school alone, so naturally Rodrick felt pretty important when she decided to spend her time in his company. She typically came with Bill to band practices in Rodrick Heffley’s garage, where she served as quite the distraction to her brother’s younger band mates.

But that day, the members of the charmingly spelled Löded Diper were busy trying to put together a decent set list, for a small backyard party. Rodrick had been standing around with his arms crossed, rolling his eyes as he and Bill watched Ben and Chris argue over songs. Sara, who sat on the couch, decided she’d tune out all the arguing and work on her flash of potential tattoo designs.

“Will you two just shut the fuck up so we can figure this out?!” Rodrick groaned.

“Just give ‘em a few minutes, little bro,” Bill offered his wisdom as he patted him on the shoulder. “Oh. Dude. I almost forgot.”

“What?” Rodrick asked him in fear, thinking it was some sort of band emergency.

“You should totally ask Sara Bear to come to the party with you!” Bill whispered urgently, eyeing his sister to make sure she wasn’t listening in.

“But… can’t Sara drive herself?” Rodrick questioned.

“No, dude, like on a date!” Bill urged him.

“…What?” Rodrick asked skeptically.

He didn’t know anything about having a sister, but he was certain there was no way any guy would willingly encourage his friend to ask his younger sister out.

“Yeah, man, she’s crazy about you!” Bill insisted. “It’s so obvious!” he scoffed.

“She ashed her cigarette on me the other day,” Rodrick frowned, not trusting him at all.

“That’s how she flirts!” Bill exclaimed. “If she did that to you, you’re in! I mean…Not in. That’s still my baby sister. But, anyway, dude, she likes you.”

“…Really?” Rodrick asked, deciding if anyone knew Sara, it had to be her brother.

“Yeah! You should ask her out. Right now,” he encouraged.

“Okay!” Rodrick exclaimed, walking over to the couch. “Thanks!”

“Yeah, anything for you, brother!”

He then realized that, just like the first time he ever had a real conversation with Sara, he had gone over there with no plan. But, it was already too late, so he decided to just go with it.

“Hey, Sara Bear!” he blurted out, visibly cringing and once he realized what he’d said.

“Hey… Roddy,” she frowned humorously, “What’s up?”

“Uh… I was thinking,” he began.

“I’m impressed,” Sara nodded approvingly.

“No…” Rodrick massaged his temples in frustration as he tried to come up with something good, naturally failing. “I was wondering if you were gonna go to our gig this weekend? At the house party?”

“Yeah,” she replied supportively, “I’ll be there.”

“Alright! Totally! Cool…” he trailed off, trying to regain his composure. “Uh… I was thinking, that, maybe… I don’t know…” he struggled to the point of completely abandoning his train of thought.

“Huh?” she asked in confusion.

“Uh, I don’t know, I just wanted to see if maybe you’d, uh, wanna…”

“Go out with you?” Sara offered, coming to the conclusion before he did.

“Yes! …Yeah,” he nodded, trying to still seem somewhat cool, even if that wasn’t really an option.

Rodrick stood there awkwardly, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his grey jeans.

“Yeah,” Sara nodded with a smile. “For sure.”

“Really?” he laughed, catching himself just as she did. “I mean. Really?” he flirted.

“I know Bill put you up to this,” she smirked, eyes glancing at her older brother for a split second, “He’s been talking you up to me for the past week. He’s a real wing man, by the way.”

“Oh. Cool,” Rodrick remarked, slowly turning to look back at Bill, whose widened eyes suggested he was desperate for an update.

Completely clueless, Bill gave Rodrick a questioning thumbs up as Sara watched. Rodrick slowly made an awkward thumbs up, to which Bill nearly reacted by jumping up and down and shouting. After that, Rodrick returned to the band, feeling rejuvenated.

Just before 6 o’clock, Mrs. Heffley poked her head into the garage, watching as Chris and Ben both took off. Bill and Sara still remained, as Rodrick discussed various details of a song with the thirty-five year old.

“Rodrick? Dinner’s ready,” Susan said.

“I’ll be in in a minute, Mom,” he called, “I’m still talking to Bill and Sara,” he said patiently, pointing out his friends standing in front of him.

“Well, I told you that dinner was ready ten minutes ago, and we’re not eating until everyone’s seated at the table,” she stated calmly. “If you still have things to discuss with your friends, you can do that at the table. We have plenty of food,” she offered.

“It’s okay, Mom,” Rodrick assured her, “Bill and Sara were just—”

“Oh, Mrs. H, we’re starving!” Bill spoke for his sister before she could protest, “Thanks!”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled warmly, “Come on in. I made spaghetti.”

“I love spaghetti!” Bill exclaimed childishly as Rodrick and Sara exchanged looks.

The pair of siblings followed Rodrick into the Heffley house. Bill was much more excited, while Sara seemed a lot more tentative.

“Guys, Rodrick’s friends will be joining us for dinner tonight,” Susan Heffley smiled.

Rodrick took his usual seat beside Greg, who seemed to see Sara’s presence as an opportunity. Rodrick glared at him angrily, as Sara sat down directly across from him, next to Bill.

“I’m so sorry,” he mouthed to her silently, only to receive a tiny ‘it’s okay’ back.

“So, we know Bill,” Susan began, turning to Sara, “I’m sorry, sweetie, what was your name?”

“Sara,” she smiled timidly. “I’m in the same grade as Rodrick.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Frank said pleasantly as he filled his plate. “You go to Crossland?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, hesitantly putting food on her plate as Bill piled a mess of salad and spaghetti onto his.

“Oh, wow. And Bill’s your older brother?” Susan asked.

“Yeah,” Sara nodded, as Frank Heffley completely froze.

Rodrick’s father’s face froze as Rodrick tried to stop him from making a scene, only to be completely ignored.

“I’m sorry, your Bill’s sister?” the man asked shakily.

“Dad…” Rodrick said nervously.

“Yeah,” Sara responded, not seeming as awkward.

“Rodrick’s taking my baby sister out this Saturday,” Bill announced proudly with a mouthful of meatballs. “He’s been crushing on her all week,” he teased.

Greg turned to Rodrick, eyes widened in fear as both of their parents slowly took in the girl’s appearance, from her balayage, to her thin eyebrows, to her loose-fitting grey sweater that she wore off the shoulder. Luckily, she seemed somewhat more conservative without makeup.

“…Oh,” Frank gasped, still in shock. “So that was your cigarette out there last week?” he concluded, seeming horrified.”

Rodrick was horrified.

“What?” Susan questioned, having no idea what he was talking about.

“You’re the girl Greg told us about that was smoking?” Frank continued.

“Dad!” Rodrick exclaimed, mortified.

“Uh, no, Mr. Heffley,” Sara said quickly, “I don’t smoke… That must’ve been my cousin Cindy that was with me, we hang out a lot, so she’s always with me.”

“Yeah,” Bill agreed, realizing this was his fault,“Cousin Cindy’s a huge smoker. Coughs up a lung every morning.”

“Yeah, Dad, I wasn’t talking about Sara,” Greg promised, feeling uncomfortable.

“Oh,” Frank murmured, allowing himself a moment to adjust, “Sorry. That was rude,” he smiled, trying to be disarming.

“Yes, it was,” Susan agreed with her husband. “So, Rodrick, you’re finally introducing us to your girlfriend?”

Greg nearly choked on his food from laughter as Rodrick’s mouth stood agape in horror.

“Mom!” he gasped, mortified.

Sara just looked across the table at Greg, seeming to just be appreciating the humor in the situation, if anything. Rodrick said nothing to her, and just have her an apologetic grimace.

“We’re not dating!” he cried.

Sara tried her best to hide her involuntary grin at the absurd situation.

“But, aren’t you going out on a date?” Susan asked.

“Honey, just let them be,” Frank said calmly, “They’re just kids…”

“Well, I just wanted to know!” the woman argued.

Rodrick watched powerlessly as Sara uncomfortably looked down at her plate, feeling horrible. He didn’t know what to do to help the situation, but he felt even if he could think of something, it probably wouldn’t work anyway. There wasn’t much he could do for either of them at this point.

Sara sat in her seat quietly throughout the meal, only speaking when spoken to, and constantly looking to her brother to signal that they should leave. But, unfortunately for her, her brother was Bill. Bill didn’t seem to be getting the hint. It was probably another 45 minutes or so before he announced that they’d be leaving.

“Alright, Mr. and Mrs. H, it’s been real, but me and Sara Bear gotta go,” Bill said as he stood, “We’ll catch you guys later!”

“Alright, take care,” Susan Heffley smiled, a strange discomfort behind her eyes.

“See you,” Frank smiled.

“I’ll, uh, walk you guys out,” Rodrick volunteered, standing with them.

He awkwardly walked behind Sara, hand anxiously hovering over the small of her back as he ushered her out of the house.

“I am so sorry,” he sighed, looking at Sara to see if there was a chance he’d ever see her again.

“Aw, don’t be!” Bill said cluelessly, “I had a great time!”

Sara just shook her head as they all walked out the front door.

“Bill, can you start the car?” she asked politely, intending on having a talk with him later.

“Oh, I get it,” he smirked, looking up at Rodrick, “You two want some alone time.”

“Yes, we do,” she agreed impatiently, waiting for him to walk away before directing her attention back to Rodrick. “So…” she grimaced.

“So…” he genuinely had no idea what to say at this point.

“Sorry, I tried to get Bill to leave, but… you know how he is,” Sara sighed.

“No, it’s fine. My parents don’t hate you guys or anything. They just think I’m gonna turn out like Bill,” Rodrick frowned, not hearing himself.

“Yeah. So do mine,” she assured him. “That’s kind of the problem with them.”

“Well… I actually think you’re really cool the way you are,” Rodrick thought aloud, not sure if he sounded stupid.

“Thank you, Rodrick,” Sara nodded, looking up at him in a way that made his knees buckle.

“You’re welcome,” he stared back, still terrified of her.

“I’ll, uh… I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said as she left, worried that if she showed how excited she was everything would immediately start to go wrong.

“See you tomorrow,” he echoed, watching her as she left.

The car ride home wasn’t too bad for Sara. It was easy explaining to him where he went wrong with Mr. and Mrs. Heffley, but it was more difficult for Sara to get him to see the problems with their own family.

“Bill, we saved up enough money,” Sara sighed as they arrived at home. “We could get an apartment, easily. You can be my guardian until I’m 18. We both make enough money—”

“Sar, I told you, we can’t,” Bill sounded heartbroken listening to his sister. “We can’t just leave Connor!”

“Bill, forget about Connor!” she argued, “We need to think about us, just this once!”

“That’s Mom’s job,” he reminded her, “That’s all she’s ever done, is think about us. We can’t just leave her.”

“Bill, she’s an adult, and so are we,” Sara scoffed, looking at the house that wasn’t their childhood home from the sidewalk. “I can’t stay in that house anymore, Bill. Not after that night.”

The incident of three weeks ago was still a very sensitive topic in their household.

“Look, I get it, I really do,” her older brother promised, “But it’s just a couple more years. Less than a year. And then you can do whatever!”

“And what about you, huh?” she demanded. “You’re just gonna stay here, forever, in the basement? Just because of Connor?”

“He needs us!”

“He’ll be okay!” Sara insisted. “It’s not like we’re leaving the country, we just need a little space! We both did our time in that house, and now we need to get out for our own good!”

“I can’t do that,” Bill said with finality.

“Can’t, or won’t?” she questioned, looking him in the eyes.

“I can’t. I can’t leave Connor.”

“You can’t leave Connor, or you can’t leave Mom?”

“I’m not leaving, Sara,” he said softly. “You can. But I have to stay. Okay?”

From the pained look on his face to the glassy reflection in his eyes, Sara knew she couldn’t press it any further. She was angry, and she needed to leave, but she knew her brother had been hurt enough.

“Okay,” she nodded, dropping the subject entirely.

“Okay,” Bill nodded vigorously, sniffling as he tried to regain his youthful energy.

The more Sara looked into the darkness of his eyes that night, the more she realized that it was his childhood that had aged him so.

“Please, for the love of God, Sar,” he sighed, before they walked up to their house. “Just don’t start with him.”

“I won’t start with him if he doesn’t start with me first,” she muttered as Bill opened the door for her.

The two quietly entered their home, hoping they wouldn’t be noticed and could just slip by. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case.

“You guys sure are home late,” said a voice that made them both shake.

Randy Sharpe, their stepfather, was seated in the living room, reading a book written by a man who could supposedly make anyone a millionaire.

“We had dinner at the Heffleys’,” Bill said through gritted teeth as Sara stopped behind him.

“It’s not even 7 yet,” she said quietly.

“What’d they feed you?” the man asked, being the only one that found humor in his musings. “Caviar on toast?”

“Spaghetti,” Sara interjected. “They’re nice people.”

“And I’m not?” he looked up from his book.

“Yeah, you’re a real peach, Randy,” Bill muttered, creeping off toward the basement as their mother entered the room.

“Hey, Bill. Hey, Sar Bear. How was practice?” Destiny Sharpe asked, intentionally moving the conversation along.

“Good, thanks, Ma,” Bill walked off.

“You know,” Randy chuckled, watching him as he took off his reading glasses, “It makes sense, letting that one come and go as he pleases, I mean… he’s half gone already, but Sara’s still a kid,” he pointed out, pointing his glasses at her.

“Randy, Sara’s sixteen, she’s old enough to not have to come home before 7,” Destiny chuckled, still finding the situation humorous, “Besides. When she works, sometimes she’s not home ‘til 11.”

“What does she need a job for?” he questioned. “She’s a kid!”

“So are you, Randy,” Sara used his name like an insult.

“Hey,” her mother frowned.

“What, he gets to sit there and criticize us all day, but the second someone responds, he’s only human?” she gestured to him in disbelief.

“Hey. Show your mother some respect,” Randy said sternly.

“You first,” Sara cocked her head at him. “Has Mom even seen her paycheck this month? Huh? Could she even tell me how much it’s for, or do I have to go through your ‘accountant’?”

“That is enough,” Destiny interrupted, “Sara, have you been smoking? Weed, that is, because I can smell the box 100’s from over here.”

“I wish,” she responded honestly, glancing over at her stepfather. “I don’t know how else anyone deals with him.”

“What was that, a shot?” Randy butted in. “Taking shots at your mother now?”

“Don’t get any ideas, I’ve seen that shitty Glock you own.”

“Sara!” her mother exclaimed. “You shut your mouth right now—”

“Mom?!”

Everyone looked up at the top of the stairs in a panic as a small twelve year-old looked down the stairs.

“Have you seen my PE shirt?” Connor asked.

Destiny squeezed her eyes shut, trying to calm herself for a moment. “Uh… Yeah, baby! It’s in your drawer!”

They all watched him run back up into his room, silently looking around at each other.

“You two need to learn to get along if you’re going to live under this roof,” Sara’s mother pointed at the two of them warningly.

“Or, you could just throw him out on his ass like you should’ve years ago,” Sara crossed her arms.

“Sara,” Destiny glared, finger pointed accusingly, “You best believe that the first of the two of you to be thrown out of this house wouldn’t be Randy.”

Sara tried to contain the hatred growing within her as Randy mockingly pumped his fist in silence as his wife walked away.

“You know, Sara Bear,” Randy said with a smile, “I don’t know why you’re so determined to hate me. I’ve never laid a finger on you, or your mother. You kids wouldn’t have survived a day with my father.”

“You might not have ever hit my mom,” Sara admitted, “But I wish you would. Just so she’d realize what kind of person you are.”

Before she could lose control, Sara ran off into her room, luckily without doing anything she would regret. Not having any other options left, she angrily sank her fist through her door, putting another hole in it just like the one her middle brother had left in it after Bill shoved his head through it.

Ever since he left, Sara had times where she’d almost forget their brother Paul. They never spoke about Paul, and Paul never spoke about them. Sara envied Paul.

-

“The Date”

[goldennikko]

BE MINE — park jihyo

summary : jihyo and her obliviousness to her own feelings, you and your silly excuses, the two of you dancing around each other's feelings, the twice members had grown tired and had to conspire with the itzy girls to get the two of you together.

pairing : jihyo x itzy!reader

tags : f!reader ; idol!au ; reader is itzy's leader ; reader is '99 liner ; jealous!jihyo

requested: ✔

word count : 3.7k

you've known jihyo since you were a trainee. you first met her during your second year of training. you remember that day as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. you remember how your knees shook and how many embarrassed bows of respect you gave your senior when she caught you dancing to twice's song late at night in a dance practice room.

"jihyo sunbaenim?!"

jihyo returned the bow while waving you to stop, laughing at the red tint across your face, which she couldn't tell if it was from her or from the hours you'd been dancing.

"you're doing it wrong." jihyo said, voice soft and gentle smile to show you she wasn't mad or anything. still, you scratched the back of your head in embarrassment, complying when jihyo gestured you to play the music.

"let me teach you how it goes."

ever since then, jihyo would stop by the usual room you used to train in if she had enough time to help you or simply watch you, finding solace. she was impressed with how quickly you picked up on whatever she taught you. what impressed her the most was your maturity; you were only two years younger, but you seemed to give her sound advice whenever she confided in you about her problems. as embarrassing as it was for her to admit she was confiding in someone younger and not even in the industry with her problems, you provided her with comfort that no one else could.

when jihyo learned that you were finally making your debut alongside the other girls, she was the one who suggested to jyp that you be given the position because you deserved it. 

that's how you got to be the leader. 

"jihyo unnie."

jihyo hummed, watching as you breathed heavily, having just finished practicing your debut song. she rose from the floor and handed you a water bottle and a towel, which you gratefully accepted despite your flushing.

"they said i'm going to be the leader of itzy." you murmured, staring at yourself in the mirror. jihyo knew you had something more to say, so she remained quiet and waited for you to continue.

however, she didn't expect tears to well up in your eyes, whether from surprise or gratitude, jihyo couldn't tell. she drew you into her arms quickly, not caring if you were sweaty, and ran her fingers through your wet hair. she gently swayed you from side to side as you cried on her shoulder.

"what's wrong? don't you want to be the leader?" jihyo asked and you shook her head, sniffling lightly.

"it's not that. it's just… unbelievable." you explained, hiccuping every now and then, and jihyo couldn't help but coo at you. "apparently, someone saw me deserving and the girls also voted for me."

"because you are." jihyo reassured you, sensing that you had no idea the woman you were hugging was the one who suggested, and pulled back to wipe your tears and brush your bangs while still holding you in her arms.

"it'll be difficult, but i'm only a phone call away, okay?" 

that's when you realized your feelings for your senior had shifted. you didn't like her just because she was your senior or idol. you liked her because she was jihyo. you could feel your heart begin to beat differently, a little faster than usual, and it wasn't due to the heavy dancing you had just done.

jihyo held your cheek, raising her brows expectantly. "you hear me?"

you nodded, snapping out of your realization, and buried your face into her shoulder to avoid her piercing gaze. her hand went to the back of your head and gave you pats.

"are we clear on that?"

you hummed. "yes, unnie."

jihyo smiled. "good."

when you made your debut, the first person to greet you was jihyo, with your family and friends' congratulatory messages being a few seconds later than her text message, which came as soon as the music video was released. unfortunately, jihyo was unable to attend your debut stage and instead sent you a cake and a bouquet of flowers.

"someone sent this for you." your manager said, handing you the bouquet.

you took it from him with a confused frown, ryujin peering over your shoulder to see who it was as you opened the small card attached to it. your face flushed as you read the brief message and the name that followed, along with the all-too-familiar signature.

congratulations on your debut, sweetheart! i'm so proud of you. 

park jihyo.

ryujin's face lit up with a shit-eating grin as she shook you back and forth, causing you to hide your face behind the bouquet, the soft scent of the flowers invading your nose. 

as ryujin called out your embarrassed state, gaining the attention of your other members, who immediately joined in on the teasing because they all knew jihyo was your idol, your face brightened, the familiar red hue returning to your face after a long time of not interacting with jihyo due to her busy schedule and your busy debut preparation.

after that, you grabbed your phone and sent your senior a message.

thank you for the bouquet, unnie!

jihyo was quick to reply and you wondered if she was on a break with how quick she returned the message, but you shook it off, flushing red at the text across the screen.

of course. feel free to message me when you're having trouble, okay? i'm here to listen and help.

initially, you didn't intend to do that because you desired independence. you wanted to show them you deserved to be the leader of your group. you were afraid to rely on others because you didn't want to appear irresponsible or overly reliant on others.

however, when the hatred became too much for you, you needed to turn to someone who wasn't yeji or lia, and especially not your group's maknae line. you adored them and wouldn't dare to burden them with your problems.

so all you could think about was jihyo.

you hesitated to press on her number on your screen, your thumb hovering above it as your mind raced at the prospect of her being busy or resting. you couldn't think much about it because her name flashed across the screen and you hurried to answer her call.

"unnie?" you breathed out nervously, playing with the hem of your shirt.

a sigh was heard from the other side of the line. "i thought i told you to rely on me?"

you tried to play dumb. "yeah? what's happening?"

"don't act. i saw the articles." jihyo deadpanned, causing you to sigh in defeat.

"i, uh, didn't want to…" you trailed off, finding the correct words so as to not offend your worried senior. "burden you?"

there was another sigh and a few seconds of shuffling before jihyo's reprimanding yet soft voice came through the speaker again. you remained quiet as she spoke, her voice becoming more passionate as seconds ticked by.

"i want you to know you can rely on me. it's okay to be weak. it's okay to cry. it's okay to rely on someone. i know how hard it is to be a leader, so i want to be there for you. let me please?"

you shouldn't be surprised because you've heard it from her a few times before. nonetheless, you were taken aback by the genuine tone and comforting words. maybe it was because the wall you built was immediately demolished by the one and only jihyo, or maybe it was because your crush was the one to reach out first and say all these simple yet sweet words to you.

nonetheless, a sob escaped your throat, one hand flying to your mouth to silence yourself lest your members become concerned, and jihyo listened silently, gesturing to nayeon, who was sitting next to her, to notify yeji that she was coming over.

jihyo became your safe haven during your first year of work. when you weren't busy, you'd call her, cry in her arms, or simply hang out with the older girl. jihyo kept her promise to help you adjust to your new role as leader, and she made you promise to open up about your problems. who were you to say no? 

jihyo was actually glaring at you when the subject was brought up, so you had no choice but to give in.

naturally, your feelings for her grew stronger. you thought it was gone, but then you found yourself hanging out with her or crying your heart out to her, and the feelings returned. or perhaps they never left at all and were simply buried deep underground due to work? that, or you were afraid of ruining your friendship status with jihyo.

having said that, you've remained friends with her until now.

"where are you going?" nayeon asked loudly, attracting the attention of the other members in their respective rooms, the living room, and jeongyeon's, who was standing near the sink. 

the oldest noticed jihyo passing by, fully dressed and disguised, and an idea struck her, so she called out to her.

"i'll go see y/n/n." jihyo answered and frowned when she saw nayeon and jeongyeon share a not-so-subtle look, but shrugged it off. "she's practicing and she said she needs help. i'll be back real quick."

"bye, unnie!"

"take care, jihyo!"

"bring back food please!"

when the door closed, the members went to the kitchen, where the two oldest were talking about what had just happened, or rather, what had been going on for years.

"is it just me or y/n/n always asks for jihyo unnie's help?" dahyun commented, stealing the bread from jeongyeon's hand, causing the older one to glare to which the tofu merely smiled.

"and jihyo—"

"no, wait." nayeon cut sana off, fishing out her phone. the members watched her, confused, and she caught their expressions and shrugged. 

"it's about time we step in. it's been years."

when her phone rang, yeji paused, watching as nayeon's contact name flashed across her screen. lia turned around, and yeji met her gaze before answering the phone.

"nayeon unnie?"

the girls shared a knowing look when they heard yeji's voice, except for momo and sana, who looked at the phone that nayeon had placed on speaker and on the table. meanwhile, lia had gone off to find the other members, waving yuna over who was chilling in the living room and dragging ryujin and chaeryeong out of their rooms.

"have you noticed that your y/n unnie always asks for jihyo's help, too?" nayeon went straight to the point, not wasting any more time because it was painful to watch you two dance around your own feelings.

the juniors exchanged a glance. "too? you mean, you've noticed as well?" yeji responded.

ryujin grimaced, relieved that they were finally going to do something because she knew you'd never do anything and would suffer in silence.

sana joined the conversation, albeit clueless, to continue what she was about to say before nayeon cut her off. "and jihyo never fails to offer her the assistance she requires, no matter where we are or how busy our schedules are."

"and it wasn't really hard to notice." dahyun said.

"were they even trying to hide it?" mina asked quietly, causing tzuyu to grumble from behind her. "they both suck at it then."

lia laughed. "y/n unnie never hid it, but she tried."

"i love jihyo unnie, but i'm not sure how she hasn't noticed it yet because y/n unnie's crush is written all over her face." chaeryeong remarked, joining tzuyu at sassing both sides.

a laugh escaped jeongyeon's throat. "i don't think jihyo is aware of her feelings yet."

"or she's denying it." chaeyoung added.

"then what are we going to do now?" dahyun asked and momo perked up from next to her. "what about dinner?"

when everyone went silent, momo didn't know if they were thinking about it or thought her idea was stupid, but she ignored the latter when she received a clap to the back from jeongyeon. on the other end of the line, ryujin was quietly nodding, and yuna was already planning a strategy in her head.

the youngest of itzy leaned forward. "i know what to do."

you were a little late for dinner. all of the twice members apparently wanted to have dinner with you and your group. you were late, however, because you had one more separate schedule before you were finally free. you walked inside the restaurant after your manager dropped you off and immediately spotted the rather long table that twice and itzy occupied.

jihyo was the first to notice you. 

of course she'd be the first. 

when they arrived, itzy was already there, but you were nowhere to be found, so she immediately inquired as to your whereabouts. she was a little disappointed she couldn't see you right away, but she waited patiently, occasionally joining the conversation led by nayeon, but her focus was always on the door. jihyo shot up from her seat with an excited smile when the door opened for the nth time that hour and you finally walked in, fixing your hair.

"y/n/n!"

"jihyo unnie!" you greeted, heart beating wildly against your ribcage as you took the older girl into your arms.

you had to pull away, causing jihyo to pout, to hug your own members and the other twice members, staying a little longer with nayeon, mina, and tzuyu because they were the closest to you aside from jihyo.

"what took you so long?" nayeon playfully smacked your arm.

"i was with jinsol-ie." 

jihyo noticed your endearing nickname for the jung and her brow twitched unknowingly, causing a few of the other members to snort quietly. you were seated between the twice leader and resident penguin, assisting them in taking their seats.

yeji sent you a teasing smile and you returned it hesitantly. "was that really a schedule, unnie? or a date?"

your eyes widened at her claim, panicked eyes darting towards jihyo, whose ears were turning red in anger for reasons she didn't understand. even though you knew you had no chance, it felt like cheating on jihyo. as the other members turned to you in shock, you shook your head frantically, waving your hands.

"wait, you're dating jinsoul-ssi?" chaeyoung inquired.

"no, no, no! no way! we're not dating?!"

tzuyu glared at you from across the table. "and you didn't tell me?" 

"i thought we were friends, y/n/n." mina added.

you gently shook the penguin. "but we're not dating?! how am i supposed to tell you if i'm not even dating anyone?!"

you looked to your members for assistance, but they either ignored you, didn't notice, or didn't know you really weren't dating jinsoul.

"are you really not dating her?" chaeryeong asked.

you quickly shook your head, glancing at jihyo. she's been quiet since then, and as much as you wanted to console her for whatever reason had irritated her, you had to protect your and jinsoul's image. you like the girl, but not in that way.

yuna shrugged. "you look good together."

"i've seen the pictures online." momo added as jeongyeon smiled teasingly at you.

"she looks good." nayeon nodded in approval, but still gave you a look of betrayal.

your hair swished quickly from side to side, shaking your head for the nth time that night, you were close to getting nausea. "we're just friends."

sana leaned forward in her seat with a curious yet teasing smile. "then do you like her?"

before you could even deny it, there was a loud slam, and everyone flinched at the harsh sound. you turned to face jihyo, who had shot up from her seat, her head low and her hair forming a curtain around her face, obscuring her expression. but you knew she was mad because of the way her fists clenched.

"jihyo unnie—" you reached out, but she avoided your touch.

"i'll just be getting some fresh air."

you slumped back in your seat as you watched the older girl leave the restaurant. you expected the girls to be scared and worried, but you were surprised to see them look expectant, disbelieving, content, happy, and so on. what was more surprising was that it was directed at you, and you, dumbfounded, pointed at yourself.

"what? why are you staring at me like that?" you asked, your mouth agape.

"go, get her." dahyun smiled widely at you.

you pointed at yourself again for emphasis, trying to hide the pain spreading across your chest. "but she didn't even want me to touch her? what did i do?"

nayeon let out a sigh, not wanting to deal with your oblivious ass and jihyo's mini tantrums anymore. "sweet y/n, please do us all a favor and just go."

you were hesitant to leave, but the twice girls were encouraging you, tzuyu through her glare, and when you looked at your members, they raised their brows at you. so you had no choice but to leave, picking up the jacket jihyo had left and your scarf.

"be back, yeah? don't forget to thank us!"

you ignored jeongyeon, despite how confusing her statement was, and went to the parking lot where you saw jihyo go. you shivered from the cold and quickened your pace, concerned that jihyo had caught a cold by now. you noticed her behind their van and jogged over, seeing her raise her head and cast a sidelong glance at you.

you smiled warily and showed her the clothes, pausing briefly to let her decide if you could get closer. jihyo's heart melted at your respect for her and her space, and she nodded weakly while hugging herself. you stepped in front of her and threw the jacket over her shoulder, allowing her to wear it while you wrapped your scarf around her neck.

"everything okay?" you whispered quietly, brushing her hair she had previously messed up out of frustration.

jihyo remained silent while you waited. knowing her since your pre-debut days, you knew when she would gather her thoughts, which she was doing right now. you were patient, hands on top of her head, carefully fixing her hair.

"are you really dating jinsoul-ssi?"

you choked on air at her question, making jihyo glance up at you. when you saw her teary eyes, you held her face and furrowed your brows worriedly.

"no, i'm not. i'm not dating anyone right now. jindori and i are just friends, i swear. cross my heart." you even did the action after that and jihyo chuckled, smacking your stomach weakly. you smiled, feeling successful, but then you grimaced. "besides, she's dating jungeun. she'd kill me."

you both laughed again before falling silent. jihyo fiddled with her rings, a nervous habit, and you took them into your hands, your thumb caressing the back of her hands. jihyo smiled as she noticed the worried expression on your face.

"are you sure everything's okay?"

jihyo laughed. "yes, y/n/n, everything is fine."

you were about to nod, but when she spoke again, you paused. 

"now that i'm certain you're not dating anyone."

jihyo wasn't sure if you could feel her clammy palms or if that was just her imagination because she was so nervous right now. 

she was composed on stage. 

she was punctual when it came to her jam packed schedule. 

she can work under duress with little to no assistance from others. 

her heart, however, was beating wildly under your gaze right now, as if it were about to jump out of her throat. her legs were trembling, not just from the cold, but also from the way your eyes shifted back and forth between her eyes. her lips trembled as she yanked on your hand, not knowing what to say next.

you, on the other hand, were frozen. you couldn't think of anything to say because you were too busy replaying what she said and overthinking, which was something you were good at.

when you felt her tug on you and met her glossy eyes, you blinked. "you, uh, i need you to clear it up a bit? i don't want to get it wrong, and maybe i'm just being hopeful and stupid right now, so i, you, uh—"

you never imagined she'd say those words in all your years of friendship. you never imagined she'd feel the same way in the last few years. most importantly, you never imagined feeling jihyo's plump lips against yours right now. the cold wasn't ideal, but jihyo's lips were more than enough to make your face heat up.

as her hands came up to rest on your stomach, gripping your shirt to draw you closer, you closed your eyes, both hands on jihyo's face. although butterflies and the entire damn zoo made a noise in your stomach, that phrase wasn't enough to describe how giddy you were right now. your brain was short-circuiting, your hands trembling against her cheeks, and your heart was beating so loudly that jihyo could hear it.

you did, however, recall that you were in public. the restaurant was very private, but you can never be too sure. so you drew back, resting your brow on hers. jihyo opened her eyes after catching her breath and saw yours were still closed, but you were breathing steadily now.

"if you still need me to spell it out for you." 

jihyo waited for you to open your eyes, continuing when you did. jihyo could drown in your dreamy eyes and won't regret it; she'd gladly dive into it and drown all over again.

"i like you. i really do."

your ears tuned out everything else and focused on jihyo's words and lips, occasionally looking up at her as she continued her confession speech.

"i've been into you since you cried on my shoulders. when you found out you'd be the leader of itzy. i know it took me a while, years, to realize that i have these feelings for you. i don't like the idea of you dating jinsoul, and i especially didn't like the idea of you dating anyone other than me."

you opened your mouth to say something, but she shook her head and pressed her pointer finger against your lips. you stood there, heart racing, as she leaned in and stopped an inch from your lips.

"i like you. date me. be my girlfriend. be mine."

"i'm yours, jihyo."

jihyo closed the gap with your confirmation, and you relished her warmth and the way her lips caressed yours so softly, making sure you could feel all of her feelings for you.

she panted against your lips. "mine. all mine."

"yours, all yours."

nikko note: the fics i write are either making me feel single or really sad. i hope you liked this one! i had to stop working earlier because i got distracted by one of my anon's crabs lmaooo. thank you for reading!

[agnireed]

The Silence of it

MASTERLIST

Chapter 14

Summary

Y/N has been with the group since the start of the apocalypse yet can’t help but feel like she doesn’t fit in anywhere. When they arrive at Alexandria, she should feel relieved. Instead she’s left feeling confused and stuck in her head. A certain someone helps her out of it.

You were growing restless. News from back home in Alexandria was running dry and you were almost starting to regret staying behind. It was breaking you heart and keeping you awake at night, more than usual, to be so far away from your family.

Normally, having Daryl’s company would be all you needed to keep calm and steady, but considering he hadn’t been talking to you as of lately, you just felt more and more unnerved.

You’d spent some time with the King and Jerry, trained with soldiers on their breaks, and even started to help with the crops and harvesting if you were asked. But you still couldn’t stop worrying.

“Y/N.” A voice was pulling you out of your thoughts and you squinted up past the bright sun, hands dirty from the soil you were digging through. You eventually made out Morgan as he approached you. “Do you know where Daryl is?”

You sighed and wiped the sweat off your brow line, not minding the dirt you smeared across your forehead. You shrugged and put your hands on your hips. “No, I never seem to lately.”

Morgan was watching you curiously but eventually nodded, giving you a soft wave as he walked away from you.

You were frustrated again, patience for Daryl being run thin. Quickly excusing yourself to the nice woman who’d asked for your help weeding, you jogged over to one of the King’s men, the first you’d met.

“Richard.” You came to a stop next to him and he glanced at you briefly, not paying you much mind. “Do you have any idea where Daryl is?”

He looked at you now, seemingly interested in you and your situation. He must’ve just realized you were someone from Alexandria, somebody the King had let stay.

“Yeah actually.” He smiled down at you and you missed the glint in his eye. “We’re scheduled for a run here about now, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the company.”

You were regretting coming along now, regretting leaving the walls with a near stranger and regretting letting your frustrations cloud your judgement.

Richard had practically left you in the middle of nowhere, slipping off while you cleared a few walkers on your way to where Daryl apparently was, something you now realized was untrue.

You’d obviously been lied to but the only thing you didn’t understand was why. What was the play here, if there was one. You felt you’d grow close enough to Ezekiel to understand he wouldn’t do this to anyone, especially a non-allied community.

Wandering now, you were once again feeling mad at yourself for losing focus. You didn’t keep track of where you were heading and you had no clue how to get back to the unfamiliar community.

The air was prickling against your skin and you were exhausted and angry, angry at Daryl and angry at yourself.

You liked to think you understood him, you knew what made him tick and what was happening under the surface and under his facade of cool headedness. You’ve spent the entirety of this new life together and you’d die before he did.

Yet, somehow, you didn’t see him pulling away from you like this, this time. You thought it was different and it was special and it was the start of acceptance towards something you both hadn’t had before.

Suddenly a wave of missing your family washed over you. You weren’t the type to go to them for advice, or anybody for that matter but things weren’t feeling easier.

You missed Glenn and Abraham like it was yesterday, you thought about Beth everytime somebody hummed a song and you still looked for Tyresse in a crowd.

It wasn’t getting any easier and you weren’t sure it ever would.

Your thoughts were exhausting you and you nearly let out a cry of relief when you spotted a small house off in the distance, almost hidden in the trees. You could find your way back to the Kingdom tomorrow, you just wanted to rest for now.

You crouched low and sped up to the house, knives drawn and angled. After sitting and listening for a few breaths, you deemed it empty and stood near the door, angling your shoulder and ramming it into the wooden door.

You flew into the house, still on guard, but paused and dropped your position when you looked around the small room. “Oh holy shit.”

DARYL POV

“The Saviors who discover what’s left, we want them to be angry.” Richard was explaining his plan to attack a small group of Saviors to Daryl.

They were somewhere out, not too far from the Kingdom, but far enough that Negan’s men wouldn’t immediately go towards that direction. Daryl was skeptical of Richard but the want to finally do something about this was burying that.

“I left a trail from here to the weapons cache I planted, to the cabin of someone Ezekiel cares about, and I arranged it so the stakes are even higher than just one.”

“Who’s that?” Daryl felt more guarded now, the idea of hurting somebody innocent not sitting well with him.

“It’s just some loner he met.” Richard dismissed. “And the girl he’s been spending time with.”

This comment missed Daryl, he took a step outwards towards Richard.

“Why don’t they live in the Kingdom?”

“She lives out there, she’ll die out there.”

Daryl was frozen completely now, piecing together one of the people being referred to. He felt his heart racing in his throat and squared his shoulders. “It’s a woman?”

“It’s two. What’s it matter? The new one has more balls than you and me. That’s why she’s there, it needs to be believable that they did this.” Richard continued to speak but Daryl’s head was spinning now, a ringing in his ear as anger and panicked built up.

“What’s her name?” His voice was a low growl, the threat of his anger building up as Richard started to ramble past his question.

“Maybe they kill them, maybe they don’t, but it’s gonna show Ezekiel what he needs to do.”

“The name. What is it?” Daryl ignored him again, pressing further. He was watching the man with a dark far away look in his eye.

“The one’s tough, maybe she’ll live.”

“Say her damn name.” Daryl was yelling now, his belief slowly being confirmed the more Richard tried to push forward.

He sighed softly and turned away from Daryl. “Y/N and Carol. I was hoping you didn’t know her and I didn’t see you talk to Y/N much, so I didn’t think you’d care ‘cause you know what needs to happen.”

Daryl was fuming, stomping forward to collect his crossbow and gear and ignoring Richard’s pleas for understanding. He felt dizzy at the thought of you and Carol sat waiting in a death trap, his stomach turning with rage thinking about how you even ended up outside the walls.

“You stay the hell away from them, you hear me?” Daryl was spinning back to face him

The sound of trucks and gravel kicking up stole their attention, peering around the truck to see the Saviors approaching in the distance. Daryl felt almost animalistic, the thought of you at the end of this plan turning his stomach.

“Look, we can wait for things to go bad, and lose people or we can do the hard thing and choose our fate for ourselves.” Richard was once again attempting to reason with Daryl and once he was met with disagreement again, he opted for acting alone.

Daryl swiftly ran up behind him, gripping the back of his armor and throwing the man on the floor. He held him down tightly, grunting as Richard fought back in an attempt to stand.

Daryl kept an ear out, listening and waiting for the sound of the Saviors vehicles to die down.

He was throwing punches, full body swinging as he rotated fists. Richard swung something heavy from his left and threw Daryl off of him with the force, both men scrambling for their weapons.

Richard was talking again, pleading for reason within Daryl but he felt nothing but pure murderous rage at the idea. “What we have to do requires sacrifice one way or another.”

“Guys like us… we’ve already lost so much.”

“You don’t know me.” Daryl thought of loss, how it plaques his whole life long before the apocalypse. Then he thought of you.

“She gets hurt.” Daryl started. “She dies, if she catches a fever, if she’s taken out by a walker… if she gets hit by lightning. Anything, anything happens to her, I’ll kill you.”

Carol was outside now, you curled up on her couch looking out the window. A small smile was on your face at the sight of the King, you almost went out to greet him before thinking of the questions it would cause.

She seemed agitated when she stepped back in but you felt like she was lighter on her feet, holding a cobbler in a glass pan.

You smiled over at her and shrugged, the giddiness of the Kingdom and it’s theatrics had remained amusing to you.

“You’ll need to go back soon.” She offered, sitting opposite of you and opening her book, placing it down on her lap. “Daryl will worry.”

“Don’t be too sure of that.” You mumbled, it fell from your lips in a pout and you didn’t bother remaining stoic. Carol was your oldest friend now, despite your lack of talks recently.

She shook her head at you like you weren’t making any sense. “He loves you.”

Your stomach turned and you hugged your knees closer to your chest. You didn’t reply to her verbally, shaking your head repeatedly.

She sighed and went to speak again, stopping when another knock at her door echoed through the house. After all this time the sound still was jarring and unnerving to you.

She met your eye and you felt even more worried when you realized her expression lacked any recognition or expectancy.

She stood swiftly, handing you her book. You watched her back as she swung the door open, watched her shoulders fall and the breath leave her body.

She stepped out of view, out onto the porch and you furrowed your brows. Anxiety was racking you but the lack of sound or anger just left you confused. You gripped your knives tightly and stood slowly.

When you heard the familiar gruff voice start to speak slowly, you froze in place. Their conversation was heavy and low and you felt like you weren’t meant to hear it so you sunk back against the arm of the couch.

“She in there?” You were confused as Daryl spoke, a hum of approval falling from Carol. You weren’t sure how he knew you were here. You looked around for a place to hide and then felt stupid for doing so.

This was Daryl. Although confusing and on the verge of breaking your heart, it was still just Daryl.

And when he stepped around the frame of the door, crossbow clinging tightly to his chest, you remembered again why you’d be okay with feeling this way forever.

He looked guilty and bashful but a wave of peace washed over you, calming fears you didn’t even realize were suffocating you. He had a wild look in his eye beneath the one he always had for you.

He was always going to make it feel complete.

You had hugged Carol goodbye for longer than anyone in your entire life, tears falling onto her shoulder. She was teary too but petting your head and lightly scolding you for acting like she wasn’t ever going to be back.

Walking back to the Kingdom with Daryl, you still felt that heavy sadness of leaving her. You were thankful for the dark of the night, covering your red cheeks.

It didn’t help that he wouldn’t even glance in your direction, silent and distant, all the way on the other side of the road.

If it wasn’t so dangerous, you bet he’d be walking in the fields just to be farther away from you.

“How’d you know I was here.” The words felt loud and heavy in the silence, taking up space they weren’t supposed to. But curiosity was weighing on you and the quiet was suffocating.

He didn’t answer for a long time, not sparing a glance to your side of the world. For a moment you wondered if he had been zoned out and didn’t hear you or if he was opting for pretending you didn’t exist.

Then the sound of his boots was gone and you halted a few feet infront of him, glancing back to see he had stopped walking and was watching the back of you.

You turned slowly, confused, and titled your head in his direction. He scanned down your face, your furrowed brows and tired eyes. He avoided looking below your nose.

“Richard told me a plan.” He started off slow and you watched his silhouette tense like he was recalling a nightmare. “Leading the Savior’s back to Carol and you.”

You were confused as you tried to understand what he was saying and what the Savior’s had to do with Carol. Your face dropped as you slowly understood what he meant and why you had been left out here.

“Is he alive.” You asked tentatively, watching his reaction.

He didn’t say anything again, biting his lip and glancing around the empty air.

“Yeah.” He eventually mumbled and you sucked in a breath, not sure if you were relieved or scared. “But I would’ve done it.”

You shook your head and instinctively took a step towards him, hands raised in approach. He didn’t need to hear you speak to understand what you were thinking. You didn’t want him to do that.

“I mean it. If I thought he’d do it I would’ve killed him then and there.” He sounded stressed out and angry again at the idea, agitation pouring off of him. “I’d do that for you.”

“Don’t say things like that.” You spat the words like the burned, recoiling away from him and hugging your arms to your body. “You’ve barely spoken to me. It’s too confusing Daryl.”

Now he was stepping forward, keeping his distance but making an effort to lessen the gap you were creating.

“I’d do that for you and I’d die for you Y/N.” He was pushing forward in his words and you felt yourself darken, anger and confusion finally reaching it’s limit with him.

“Then why do you do this to me.” You were almost screaming now, totally forgetting the existence of walkers or anything besides Daryl. “Don’t you see how this is what’s killing me. You’re what is hurting me Daryl.”

He was shaking his head and fumbling backwards like you shot him. When he spoke again his voice was weak and breaking around the words.

“Don’t.”

“I’m serious.” You yelled. “I’m going crazy Daryl, I don’t know why you hate me so much.”

You weren’t embarrassed when you realized you were crying. You were exhausted from trying to figure him out, longing for him day in and day out and worrying about his safety or what he was thinking about.

“I could never hate you.” He sounded panicked and you shook your head, flinching back when he took wide strides towards you.

He froze when you flinched back, hands stopping mid air around you at the reaction. You met his gaze for a second and felt yourself break at the look of hurt and shock passing through his face.

You knew he’d never hurt you, you also knew if he touched you it would be over for you.

“I..” He seemed frozen around his words, like he was having to pry them from his lips to present them to you. “I need you.”

Shaking your head again you sucked in a tight breath. It wasn’t enough for you now, his words that were constantly lacking action. You spun on your heel and started to walk again, longing to be back at the Kingdom.

You grunted softly when you felt his hands wrapping around your arm, both of them holding it tightly as you turned around. He was basically cradling your arm in an attempt to keep you there.

You felt your resolve weaken, watching him struggle to communicate how he felt. You thought about what Carol had said.

“I love you Daryl.” You breathed out and shook your head, prying your arm out from his grasp. He clenched his hands around nothing, stumbling forward towards you.

You wanted to turn again, to leave him there in silence a few paces behind you until you could go separate ways at the Kingdom, maybe you’d even go home. You wanted to let him sit with this fact and to understand how much you needed him.

Instead you held his face in your hands and watched him with soft but exhausted eyes. He leaned into your touch like a wounded dog and nearly whimpered at the contact.

You wanted him to hear you and to feel what you were saying. You hoped he’d have no doubt about the way you felt and start to feel like he could deserve something like this, atleast enough to fight for it.

“I love you.” You repeated, voice firmer this time. “And I’ll wait for you forever, longer than I already have, but I need you to remember how small that could be.”

Maggie and Glenn passed through your mind, just at the start of their family. And then Sasha and Abraham, only just being brave enough to try together when it was already over.

“Fuck forever.” His voice was snapping you out of your thoughts and you felt his rough hand cup yours that was still over his cheek. “I’m here now, you’ve got me.”

“For how long.” You felt like yelling again, stepping back from him and lowering your hands so they were rested on his chest. “Until you’re scared and run away again?”

He nearly sneered at you instinctively, the words hitting a sore spot for him. “Ain’t scared.”

“Then what is it Daryl.”

“Don’t you get it?” He was sneering at you now, taking a few steps away from you and you felt a flash of familiarity at the curl of his lip. Daryl was closing off again, a ghost of the angry man he’d been before.

“I do get it.” You lowered your voice, it coming out soft and reassuring. “I get it and you know I do, but I can’t do it anymore.”

And you did get it. You knew why Daryl was scared, why he couldn’t say the words that would put you at ease. But you were sick of losing people with regrets.

“So that’s it? You’re leaving?” He said hurt and confused, pacing slightly like a cornered animal. You shook your head and sucked in a rough breath.

“Find me when you’re ready.”

[fatewinximagines]

Omg yes pls! I’d love to read Riven x reader ✨

Not so bad || Riven x reader

So I had a couple requests for a Riven x reader fic so here it is. Requests are still open so don’t be afraid to ask! 😊

A/N: I am completely against the whitewashing, racism, biphobia and fatphobia in the show so I’ll try to rewrite those parts as best as I can. Also English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry if there are some mistakes. 🧚🏻‍♀️

Summary : reader and Riven used to be friends before he became Alfea’s local asshole. Now the neither Riven nor the reader can stand each othe but what will happen when they’re forced to work together? (Reader is a mind fairy but with a twist kinda)

I listened to this song while making this in case you want to check it out while reading 😊

Since the bounded ones had returned everything started to go downhill. The appearances of burned ones near the school were becoming more common, apparently a first year had murdered Farah’s assistant and now everyone had to have intensive training. Fairies were paired up with specialists to train and work together and out of everyone in that dammed school you have had to be paired with Riven.

To say you were absolutely fuming the moment you saw who you had been paired with was an understatement. There were thousands of students in Alfea yet you had to be paired with the one person you hated the most. Riven and you didn’t get along and everyone knew that. Although the situation with Riven hadn’t always been like that.

The two of you used to be pretty close during your first year in Alfea. Actually you were almost attached to the hip, always hanging out together. He tried to help you to control your powers and practice while you tried to help him to train. You made the perfect team, you balanced each other out. That was until he just decided that you were not worthy of his time anymore. It hurt like hell that someone you cared about just left you behind without an explanation.

Currently you were trying to defeat a burned one in the forest, your group had thought that if you split you’d have a better chance at finding the creature. You were looking around trying to locate the burned one. Riven had his back against yours while the two of you walked slowly in circles watching your surroundings. Suddenly you saw something move in the corner of your eye. You turned around as fast as you could and tried to focus on that thing.

Unlike other mind faeries your powers weren’t limited to feeling other people’s emotions, you were also a telepath. You could get into people’s mind, read their thoughts, control them you could drive them crazy if you wanted to.

“Riven, turn around!” You screamed as you were trying to get the creature to stop.

Riven turned around as fast as he could and launched himself at the creature. While he started fighting the burned one with his sword you were trying to get into its mind, blurry images and screams filled your own mind.

“It’s be great if you started doing something!” He was struggling to dodge the burned one.

“I’m trying!” You tried harder to push your way into the burned one’s mind. Right when you were about to get control of the creature. Riven screamed.

“Fuck!” The burned one had pinned him down and he had lost his sword.

You pushed harder, the images stopped and the screams had finally become silent, you got it. The burned one was about to slice Riven’ throat when you got it to get off him. You made the creature stand up, Riven was breathing heavily and staring at the creature until you made it rip it’s own head off.

Riven got up and started to walk towards you, you couldn’t quite read the expression on his face.

“It was about time, it could’ve killed us.” He was right in front of you but somehow his voice seemed like it was far away. Your vision started to become blurry. He was talking to you but you couldn’t hear him. The last thing you heard before fading was Riven’s curses.

The images that you saw while trying to get into the burned one’s mind kept replying in your head, they seemed like memories, human memories. The screams sounded as if it was trying to get out of there, screaming for help. It was terrifying.

Suddenly you woke up. You looked around trying to figure out where were you. Your vision started to focus little by little and you recognised your surroundings, you were back at Alfea but this wasn’t your room. It was slightly darker than you room, the silky sheets that covered you were black. Your eyes darted around the room trying to find anything that looked familiar until your eyes landed on the nightstand.

“Oh you’re awake, finally.” The voice startled you. Riven was leaning against the bathroom’s doorframe looking at you. “We completed the mission, you killed that burned one.”

“You kept it... why do you still have it?” You said as you motioned towards his nightstand. You felt him tense up.

“We have a couple of days to rest before the next mission.” He kept talking without answering your question.

“Riven” Your attempt to stop him didn’t work as he kept talking.

“You were too slow, we have to train more or we won’t be this lucky the next time.” He kept going on. “You better prepare for tomorrow, we’ll start at-“

“Riven!” You interrupted him. “Why did you keep this?” You said as you grabbed the frame from his nightstand.

The frame contained a photo of the two of you. Riven had his arms aground you as you rested your legs over his lap, your head rested in the nape of his neck and you were laughing hysterically at something he said and he was smiling brightly at the camera. Sky had taken this photo, you loved it so much that you had printed it and given it to Riven as part of his birthday gift last year.

“I just forgot that I had it.” He got off the door frame and came towards you.

“You’re lying.” You said looking at him.

“Stay the hell out of my head.” He said harshly as he removed the frame from your hands. “I just forgot to throw the stupid thing away.”

“Sure” Your eyes had started to water “I don’t know why I was stupid enough to think that you had a reason to keep it, it’s not as if you ever cared right?” You said bitterly while trying to get up.

That’s when you felt it, hurt. You hated this, he had no right to be hurt after all this time, after disappearing without an explanation.

“At least I deserve an explanation.” You turned around and stood in the doorway “Give me an explanation and I won’t bother you ever again.”

“There’s no explanation, I just got bored of you and went on with my life.” He said without even looking at you.

“Riven I’m a mind fairy, your bullshit doesn’t work with me.” You said walking back into his room towards him. “You want to get rid of me, tell me the truth and I’ll go.”

“For fucks sake.” He threw his hands in the air. “You got too close, that’s the damn problem, you got too close and I cared. Everyone in this shitty college spoke about it, they always talked about how you were one of the most powerful faeries here and you were waisting your time hanging out with me. It was just a matter of time before you realized that it was true, that I was just a disappointment that couldn’t even last 5 minutes without being beaten. If I left before you had the chance I’d save myself the heartbreak.” He finally looked you in the eyes.

You felt it, every emotion that he had been bottlening up inside all this time. You could feel his anger, his hurt, his sadness. It was overwhelming.

“Did it work?” You said as you took a step closer to him. “Did it save you save yourself the heartbreak?”

“No.” His voice came out like a whisper, if you hadn’t been standing so close to him you would’ve missed it.

You sat on the bed beside him. He looked at you confused, he thought that you would’ve left by now that you would’ve agreed with everyone else and walked away not wanting to waste your time any longer. Instead you were here, sitting beside him and giving him the softest look.

“I wouldn’t have done that you know? I wouldn’t have left you because you’re not a disappointment Riven. You work hard to get better everyday, you are loyal to a fault, you’re smart even if you don’t give yourself enough credit. Even if you act like an asshole sometimes you’re not so bad.” You said pushing his shoulder lightly “Besides, since when do I care about what other people say?”

He just sat there, looking at you. He couldn’t find any words to describe how he felt although you already knew that. He had opened up to you, told you about his worst fear and you stayed. Both of you stayed like that for a couple minutes, just letting everything sink in.

He was about to speak again when he realized that it was now or never. He moved his hand to let it rest on your face, caressing it, and started to lean in closer to you. He stopped when your lips were just inches apart looking at you to see if you were okay with this and when he saw you give him a small nod he closed the gap between your lips.

The kiss was slow at first, he held you as if you could break at any moment. Both of you tried to put your feelings into that kiss and it started to become more passionate. His other hand went to your hips as you moved so you were straddling him and moved your hands to the back of his neck. Soon you broke the kiss. He rested his forehead against yours as both of you breathed heavily.

“I’m sorry, for everything I did and for what I made you go through.” He said caressing your face.

“You should’ve talked to me instead of just pushing me away.” You said with your eyes still closed.

“I know, it became too much and I didn’t know how to handle it. I promise that I won’t push you away and I’ll make it up to you.” He said looking at you. “Can we start over again?”

“That would be great.” You said before kissing him again.

[skiller0dani]

Palace Garden | General Kirigan

M A S T E R L I S T Shadow and Bone Masterlist

smut requests info w.c | 4.8k summary | You are the General’s personal Healer, he doesn’t go anywhere without you. So when General Kirigan is invited to the King Pyotr’s annual ‘end of year’ party at the Grand Palace, you join him. Except the King’s second son, Nikolai, takes a special interest in you. 

song

My Shadow and Bone pieces will probably include Spoilers from the SHOW. I have not yet read the books, I have only read through most of Six of Crows. I’m finishing that book as we speak, I have only seen the Shadow and Bone tv show, I haven’t read the books. 

PSA: I write with limited knowledge of who Nikolai Lantsov is, although I know he is royalty (King of Ravka I believe) but in the show he isn’t the King, so I made him a Prince. Don’t be mad at me, this is all for fun and it’s FICTION. 

“You’ve received another invitation from the King, just how long do you plan to ignore him?” You snicker as you drop a letter onto the General’s desk. It’s an invitation to King Pyotr’s End of Year Celebration, attended by decorated Soldiers from both the First and Second Army, and hopefully the esteemed General. The previous year the General had ‘urgent’ matters to attend to so he was unable to attend the dreaded party in his words. In truth you always had fun at the King’s Celebrations so you didn’t know what always soured his fun. 

“Until the day after next.” His shoulders were rigid and his tone was clipped. 

“General, tonight is the Celebration. You must answer the King by then, you know that.” You chuckled with a roll of your eyes, watching as the General begrudgingly tore open the envelope. You watched as his eyes scanned the paper in front of him, his eyebrows pinching together in frustration. 

“General?” You knew it was unwise to engage him when he was in a state of agitation but in all honesty, you didn’t fear him the way everyone else did. General Kirigan swiftly ignored you and reached for a pen, and upon further examination your eyes caught your name written on the letter from the King. 

‘I am most eager to meet your esteemed Healer, Y/N.’ 

The General tends to get a tad, possessive, of the things he deems belong to him. You were one the things the General had claimed as his own, and anybody who shows a particular interest in you tends to annoy him. You can see the tension growing in his shoulders, and while you might not know how deeply he cares for you, you know he sees you as more than just his Healer. Hopefully, he sees you as a sort of friend as well. 

“Are we going to attend the Celebration General?” You ask cautiously, watching as Kirigan’s expression shifts from mildly annoyed to thoroughly agitated. You make sure to keep at least one foot distance between you and the General at all times, he tends to be a bit unpredictable when he’s upset. You watch as the General stands, yanking at the buttons of his Kefta before tossing the heavy fabric onto his bed. 

“Yes, we are. Apparently both Princes will be in attendance.” The General says through a huff, reaching for his dress jacket- the black one with gold detailing he wears for social events. The Princes? Neither of the Princes have been spotted inside the Grand Palace for a few months now, it’s no wonder the King has chosen tonight for the Celebration. The end of the year isn’t for a few weeks and normally the Celebration is closer to the years change. You try to mask the mild excitement you feel at the prospect of meeting either of the Princes, although you don’t hear much about Prince Vasily. Most of the young Grisha women training in the Little Palace whisper about Prince Nikolai. 

“Does this please you?” The General asks, his tone distracted as he finishes buttoning his Kefta in the mirror. You shake your head, your eyes briefly catching his. 

“I couldn’t care either way General.” You say with a shrug, and you swear you see the tiniest smile grace the corner of his lips. For as long as you could remember you’ve had a thing for the General, what women wouldn’t? He’s tall, handsome, has dark hair, dark eyes, and he’s powerful. You doubt some Prince could ever compare to General Kirigan, not that you’re hoping one will. A Tailor swiftly enters the General’s chambers then, her eyes landing on you. 

“A package has come for Y/N sir, and she should be getting ready for the party soon.” She says, her eyes only briefly meeting the General’s before flickering back towards the floor. His eyebrows stitch together when he sees the box she holds. You reach for it before his hand raises, “give it to me.” He instructs sternly. The Tailor quickly hands the package to the General and you see an unreadable expression pull onto his face. He plucks a note from the top lid of the package, and hands it to you before opening the package. 

I await our meeting with bated breath dear Y/N. 

- Prince Nikolai

Inside the package is easily the most beautiful dress you’ve ever seen. It’s blood red with silver detailing, and it goes all the way to the floor. You take the dress from the General, stroking the smooth silk. He can see the twinkling in your eyes as you eye the gift from the Prince, it sends surges of frustration through his tightening chest. The Tailor ushers you into the General’s bathroom so you can change, and the General turns his back for privacy. It’s been like this for some time now, you hardly ever get ready for social events in your own room anymore. You’d been the General’s Healer for quite a few years now, and on more than one occasion he’s had to provide some Healing for you as well. He’s seen your entire upper torso bare from when he had to heal a stab wound through your chest. Needless to say, you were probably too comfortable in the presence of the General. 

You stepped out of the bathroom and the General turned, his eyes landing on you. For a second he didn’t know what to say, you were absolutely stunning. Your hair had been let in loose curls down your back, normally you wore it up and out of the way so he didn’t normally get to admire your hair falling around your face. The dress hugged each of your curves beautifully, but the color was irritating him. Surely it was tailored to match whatever the Prince was wearing and General Kirigan couldn’t let that slide. 

“Well? Am I presentable?” You ask the General, knowing you’ll need his say-so  before you’re party ready. 

“Nearly.” The General says, his voice trailing off into a whisper as he leans over towards the Tailor. You can see her smile but it’s quickly masked, and you don’t know what he’s saying to her. Quickly the Tailor ushers you back into the bathroom and fumbles around for a few things from her kit. She turns back to you with concentration on her face and soon the appearance of your dress begins to change. The red color fades away and is replaced with an inky black color, and the silver detailing morph into gold detailing. Soon the dress remains mostly the same, except for the fact that it matches the Kefta the General is wearing. When you step out of the bathroom again, you see a pleased look upon the General’s face. 

“Now you’re ready.” 

»»————-　✼　————-««

Your arm was hooked with the Generals as you entered the main hall of the Grand Palace, your eyes immediately traveling to all the ornate decorations covering the walls. Decorated window curtains, glass chandeliers, a wide ballroom laid out in front of you. It was crowded with people, a soft Orchestra playing in the background, and soft chatter. The General wore an easy smile across his face. He was keeping up appearances, you know he didn’t want to be here. His arm held you to his side tightly, and looming before you was the throne for the King and Queen. Stood on each side of them were the Princes, Vasily stood next to the King, and Nikolai next to the Queen. The King looked positively delighted to see the General. 

“General Kirigan! Good you could make it. You remember my sons Vasily and Nikolai don’t you?” The King gestured to both of the Princes, and while Vasily regarded the General with a polite smile, Nikolai’s eyes were firmly on you. 

“Yes of course, allow me to introduce the Princes to my Personal Healer- Y/N.” General Kirigan sounds almost proud as he introduces you, and you bow for the Princes who both send you a smile. Although Nikolai’s smile is flirtier then this brothers, who remains polite. The Queen’s eyes trail down your gown, noticing the slight shimmer to the fabric. 

“Your dress is lovely, you must have had a good Tailor.” She smiles and you blush as you take your place next to the General, your arm slipping through his with ease. 

“Well actually it was a gift from Prince Nikolai. T-Thank you for such a generous gift!” You inform her shyly, feeling General Kirigan’s body go slightly rigid beside you. You carefully peek at the General, and you notice he’s locked in a heated stare-down with Prince Nikolai. 

“You’re very welcome, did the color not suit you?” He asks and it’s just now that you notice the Kefta he’s wearing matched your dresses previous color perfectly. 

“Oh not at all-” 

“I thought it would be better for my Healer to match my Kefta, your highness.” The General cuts in, his voice polite but firm. The General says it as if you should match because you’re his Healer but you know what he’s really saying. He’s telling the Prince he wanted you to match his Kefta and not Nikolai’s, General Kirigan is saying that you belong to him and the Prince knows that.  

“Of course.” The Prince’s tone is tense, and the smile on his face looks practiced. You stay firmly placed by the Generals side, offering a polite smile as the General nearly drags you away from the royalty and further into the party. You can feel the frustration washing off the General in waves, your hand curling around his bicep a little tighter as a weak attempt to calm him. Kirigan almost cant stand the sight of you wearing a dress the Prince picked for you, but seeing the Princes face when he realized the dress he picked no longer matched his Kefta, but the General’s instead was wonderful enough to make up for it. 

“General? I apologize but you’re needed urgently-” A Grisha solider pushes gently through the crowd and begins to whisper hastily in the General’s ear. You see annoyance cross onto the General’s face before he shoos the Grisha away. He turns towards you, leaning down to brush his lips over the shell of your ear. The small action sends shivers down your spine. 

“Can you manage by yourself for a few minutes? There’s something I need to attend to, but I should be back shortly.” He whispers and you quickly offer him a nod before slipping your arm from his. General Kirigan shoots you an apologetic look before following the path the Grisha took before he disappears from sight. You hold a glass in your palm, although you’re not sure what the shimmering liquid is. You feel slightly out of place, and everyone steers clear of you. They saw you with the General, and are probably going to continue to ignore you to prevent receiving the Generals wrath.

“Y/N, right?” You hear a voice to your right and you know who it is before you even turn. Only one person is brave enough to approach somebody the General has placed an ‘unspoken’ claim on. 

“Prince Nikolai.” You smile politely, taking a step to the side to create a small amount of distance from you and the Prince. He sips at his glass, a twinkling of mischievousness in his eyes. 

“So tell me the real reason the color of your dress was altered. I thought we would have complimented each other nicely.” His voice is smooth like honey, his eyes a cool amber. It’s not that you find the Prince unattractive, quite the opposite actually. You just aren’t interested in him that way, and his good looks could never compare to General Kirigan. The Prince is clean cut and refined, while the General is rugged and untamed. They’re opposites in every way, and you just can’t be attracted to anybody else. Prince Nikolai could never compare to the General. 

“I apologize Prince Nikolai, but I wanted to match the General.” You say with ease, finally allowing yourself to take a sip of the mystery drink in your hand. A look you can’t place briefly crosses over Prince Nikolai’s face, if you didn’t know any better you’d say he looked hurt. 

“I see.” Is all he says and for the next few minutes you feel a tense silence before a hand presses against the small of your back. You turn your head and nearly breathe a sigh of relief. 

“General.” You smile, although his eyes are firmly on Prince Nikolai. His hand gently pulls you closer to his side, and your heart races the tiniest bit faster when his hand curls around your hip to rest there. You know you and the General aren’t together, but the placement of his hand tells people otherwise. You lean further into his side, and you can feel his body relax ever-so-slightly as you do so. When the Orchestra plays a slow song, General Kirigan glances down at you with a raised brow. 

“Prince Nikolai, if you’ll excuse us.” General Kirigan says when you notice other couples moving to the dance floor, including the King and Queen. He turns then and leads you out to the ballroom floor, his hand pressing against your lower back, holding your chest flush with his. He takes your hand with his free hand and soon you are both gently swaying to the music. The lights in the ballroom dim, the stars twinkling outside becoming even brighter. 

“General, could I ask you a question?” You ask softly, relaxing into his embrace. When you hear him hum softly in response you turn your head up to look at him, he towers over you. You nibble on your bottom lip, your heart beginning to race like mad in your chest. His grip on your palm shifts to allow his fingers to lace through yours gently. 

“Why does Prince Nikolai make you so...upset?” You ask, and deep down you know the answer. You just need him to say it. General Kirigan’s eyes flicker to meet yours, an expression on his face that you can’t read. His body presses more firmly against yours when his hold on your lower back tightens, pulling you even closer to him then you were before. You wished you could stay here in this moment with him forever, just the two of you and nobody else. You know that in your heart, you’ve fallen in love with General Kirigan but you doubt he’d ever feel the same way. 

“Because I dislike the amount of attention he gives you.” General Kirigan admits, his eyes turning away from yours. You thumb rubs circles over the back of his hand subconsciously as your mind tries to grasp what he just said. 

“Prince Nikolai could devote his entire life to attempting to impress me, and it would make no difference General.” You say softly, drawing his gaze back to yours. Your faces are nearly touching, your noses brushing against each others as you lean up on your tippy toes to be closer to him. 

“Why not?” He can’t help himself as he asks, surely there’s not a chance you could ever feel for him what he feels for you. Part of him hates himself for being so weak, for allowing his heart to care for you, for allowing a weakness to crawl into his heart. 

“Because he could never mean to me what you mean to me General, no matter how hard he tries...he could never be you.” You whisper softly, your cheeks burning hot and your eyes refusing to meet his. General Kirigan feels every emotion he’s tried to push away flood through him then, joy, excitement, glee, pure happiness. A small smile overtakes his face as he leans down to whisper in your ear for the second time tonight. 

“Aleksander.” 

“What?” You’re startled to say the least, pulling back to look into his eyes. Did he just...? 

“That’s my name.” He clarifies, a full smile on his face now. You feel your heart pounding heavily in your chest when you suddenly hear a loud explosion. Startled, you push yourself into General- Aleksander’s chest. His arms curl around your body as the floor to ceiling windows are thrown open, and fireworks are seen outside. Immediately people flood out onto the Palace garden to view the fireworks, and Aleksander is gently leading you outside with them. Your hand is still locked with his as your head tips up to watch the colors explode in the sky. The Alkemi really pulled all the stops for this firework show. Your breath is stolen right from your lungs as you watch the fireworks go off, but soon you feel Aleksander’s fingers turning your face to look at him. Your eyes lock onto his before you’re leaning forward to connect your lips to his. 

His arms wrap around your torso to pull you against him tighter, your arms flying up around his shoulders. You hear the fireworks exploding above you and the cheering of the crowd around you, but soon all of them fade away until it’s just you and Aleksander out in the garden alone. You don’t notice the people cheering for the fireworks around you, and you certainly don’t notice Prince Nikolai eyeing you with a broken heart from across the garden. He’s heard much of your victories in battle, and he knows more about you then you thought. When you part from Aleksander, you see a smile on his face and you know that same smile is mirrored on your own face. 

»»————-　✼　————-««

By the time you make it back into Aleksander’s room, the moon is at it’s peak in the sky but you don’t feel tired. You stand shyly in his doorway, usually this is around the time you’d bid the General goodnight and begin the short trek to your room. But you’re not ready to say goodnight, you’re not ready for tonight to be over just yet and you can only hope he isn’t either. You bite the inside of your cheek just as you turn to head back into the hallway. 

“Leaving so soon?” You hear his voice cut through the silence, and when you turn you see hurt flashing in his eyes. Does he want you to stay? 

“I assumed you’d want me to go...like I normally do.” You say softly, your cheeks burning hot. 

“Stay.” Is all he says, and it’s all you need to hear. You take a few steps into his room, shutting the door softly behind you. Aleksander crosses the room to you, his hands cupping your cheeks and pulling your lips back onto his. Your hands grab at the lapels of his Kefta, drawing him ever closer to you. His lips move languidly against yours before the kiss grows more desperate, his hands yanking your legs around his waist as he lifts you easily. His palms rest on the globes of your ass, quickly turning you and placing you down on the desk, not caring about the papers that are sent scattering off the desk. Your hands are trembling as your fingers work to unfasten the buttons of his Kefta. His hands don’t know where to touch first, gently grasping at the underside of your breasts before trailing down your curves, feeling how the dress hugs you so perfectly. 

“G-General!” You gasp as his lips latch onto your pulse point, his hands digging into your hips. You finally unbutton his Kefta completely, pushing the fabric from his shoulders as soon as it’s freed. You yank at his dress shirt until its untucked from his pants, and his hands reach up your back to pull at the zipper securing your dress. 

“Desperate?” Aleksander teases as he slowly pulls the zipper down your dress, the shoulders falling down your arms. You nod frantically, in truth you’ve never felt this desperate for anybody in your whole life. Your palms cup his cheeks, pulling his lips back to yours as his hands pull your dress down your body until it bunches at your waist. You’re practically panting against his lips as one of Aleksander’s hands slides up your thigh before he pulls away from you. He pulls back, just far enough that your lips can’t reach his. You try anyway, leaning forward and chasing his lips with an open mouth. He chuckles softly but stays just out of reach. 

“What’s wrong?” You whine, your hands resting on his shoulders. Aleksander has a smile on his face, his hands are still on your hips, holding you tightly. He can’t believe that you’re here in front of him, letting him kiss you, letting him undress you. If only you knew all of the terrible things he’s done with the very same hands that are touching you, you’d probably want nothing to do with him. Aleksander brushes that thought away. 

“Nothing, I just wanted to take in the moment.” He smiles but you groan, pulling helplessly at his shirt. He chuckles before leaning back towards you, pressing his lips to yours again. He loves that you’re so eager for him, so needy for him. Aleksander finishes pushing your dress down your legs, leaving you in nothing more than a pair of panties. His hands reach up to cup the underside of your breasts, his lips moving quickly against yours. Your hands reach to the hem of his shirt, and you part briefly to pull his dress shirt over his head. 

“Sure about this?” Aleksander mumbles against your lips as his hand dips into your panties to drag a finger through your drenched folds. You nod helplessly against his lips, your fingers digging into his shoulders when he pushes a lewd finger into your tight opening. He thrusts his finger into you quickly, loving the desperate whines coming from your lips. 

“Words please.” He says softly, quickly pressing a second finger into you. Your nails press crescent moons into his shoulders when he crooks his fingers into you, making you squeal. 

“Yes, yes I’m sure about this.” You gasp, his thumb making contact with your clit and rubbing tight little circles. Your lips press firmly to his again, and he swallows all of your moans. Aleksander groans softly when he feels you grind your hips into his hand, your back arching as his other hand slides up your stomach to pinch your nipple. 

“God all I want is you Aleksander-” You moan, saying his real name for the first time. Hearing you moan his name has shivers trembling down his back, and his fingers pulling out of your tight heat. Your hands are reaching for the waistband of his pants, fumbling with the button before you give up and Aleksander is swatting your hands away. He quickly undoes his pants and reaches into them to pull his hardening cock out. With one hand, he rips your panties from your body, leaving you naked and sprawled across his desk. It’s not a sight he’ll ever forget. He steps into your spread legs, one hand on his cock and the other hand on your hip as he presses his tip against your slippery folds. Your hands pull his chest against yours as you press your face into his neck when he pushes into you. Both of you release a moan simultaneously when you feel him stretching you open. 

“Please tell me this isn’t a one time thing-” 

“Stop talking.” He growls before pressing his lips against yours as he continues to work himself inch by inch into you. You mewl against his lips as he bottoms out, his tip nestled against the spot that makes your toes curl. It burns just a bit, but you’re still panting against him as he stays completely still inside you. You try to pull your hips back but his hands lock you in place, a playful smile on his face as he watches you roll your hips. His pupils are blown open in lust as he holds you against him, and he feels you growing wetter by the second. You want him to move so badly, you feel tears of frustration pushing at the backs of your eyes as you weakly try to once again get him to move inside you. 

“Move please.” You beg shamlessly and Aleksander presses a quick kiss to your lips. 

“You have to promise me something first.” He says softly and you groan, rolling your hips desperately again. He’s so hard inside you, you can feel your walls squeezing him tightly. 

“Anything!” You nearly cry out, you ignore him when you hear him chuckle softly. 

“Promise me that you’re mine. I can’t have anybody else seeing you this way.” Aleksander growls, starting to feel a little impatient himself. Your hands pull his bare chest against yours, your lips a hair’s distance away from his. 

“I promise. I’m yours, only yours.” You promise, your hips wriggling against his once more. Seemingly satisfied, Aleksander pulls his hips back and slams back into you, causing you to cry out as he sets a brutal pace. He slams into you, ramming his tip against your g-spot repeatedly. You cry out as his lips latch onto your neck, leaving bruises in his wake as he bites and suckles any skin he can find. Your arms wind around his shoulders as he slams into you, reducing you to nothing more than a boneless moaning mess underneath him. Your lips press to his and you kiss him with a fiery passion, your body rocking against his. Suddenly Aleksander pulls out, gently yanking you off the desk to bend you over it. Your toes barely touch the ground before he’s sliding into you again, taking you roughly from behind. You hear him hiss through clenched teeth as his hand runs up your spine to twist your hair around his hand. He yanks you up onto your elbows by your hair, holding you in place as he keeps his brutal pace. 

“Oh yes, yes-” All you can do is cry out and moan underneath him, all of your thoughts reduced to nothing more than endless praises to his cock. His grip on your hair loosens before your upper body collapses against the desk again, and his hands move instead to your hips to draw your body back against him to meet his thrusts. Pulling you back against him allows him to ram even deeper inside you, and you can feel his tip hit your cervix every time he thrusts into you. One of his hands reaches around your body to pinch and roll your clit and as soon as he does you’re crying out and moaning like a bitch in heat. His teeth are clenched as he groans above you, you feel absolutely heavenly. 

“Fuck, fuck! Gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” You cry out helplessly, your hip bones screaming in pain every time they’re rammed against the edge of the desk. Aleksander doesn’t slow down even for a second, continuing to brutally pound into you, desperate to chase his own release. Aleksander yanks your torso up so that your back is pressed to his chest and one of his hands reaches down to roll your clit. You cry out desperately as your orgasm washes through you, causing you to clamp down around him tightly. Aleksander fucks up into you, slamming into your overstimulated body until you’re violently trembling and soon he’s cumming in hot spurts. Your exhausted body nearly collapses to the floor when he pulls out and steps away. Aleksander immediately reaches forward to catch you before you crumple to the floor. 

He scoops you into his arms and gently carries you to the bed, and you practically melt into the mattress. You see concern pooling in his eyes as he pulls the blankets over you, his thumbs brushing over the bruises on your neck and shoulders, plus the purple bruises on your hipbones from the desk. He leans down to press his lips to your gently and you smile into the kiss. 

“I know that look, stop worrying. I can Heal myself in the morning, I’m too tired now.” You reassure him and his worry eases a bit before he’s standing to turn out all of the lights and slide into the bed next to you. Aleksander reaches over to pull your limp body against his chest. Pressing a kiss to your head, he holds you against him tightly. 

“Did I go too hard?” He asks into the silence and you nuzzle into his warm chest. 

“It was perfect Aleksander.” You promise, pressing a kiss against his chest. He relaxes then with you in his arms. Soon he hears your breathing even out and he knows you’re asleep. Aleksander knows by now that he’s falling in love with you, but for your sake he has to keep his distance. He’ll have to find a new Healer, no matter how much it pains him to do so. If anybody found out the Black Heretic loved somebody, you’d be in grave danger and frankly, Aleksander is afraid of what he’d do if he ever lost you. His heart breaks when he remembers what he has to do tomorrow, but luckily it isn’t tomorrow yet and he can enjoy laying here with you sleeping in his arms. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: NMJ gets caught in a time loop that makes him repeatedly relive the day Meng Yao leaves for Langya, until he realizes that it's a bad idea and stops him from going?

Time Loop - ao3

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes in the morning and sat up with a yawn, mind already racing ahead to his tasks for the day: getting in some morning saber practice, working on a giant pile of sect business and even more giant pile of work related to the war, making time to write a letter scolding Nie Huaisang (for what, yet to be determined, but inevitable – if he didn’t, Nie Huaisang would complain of neglect), trying to find a replacement deputy (or seven) to do the work Meng Yao did now that he’d headed off to the Jin sect…

There was a lot to do, and even less time to do it in – and moping about it would only make it build up even more. Nie Mingjue sighed and swung his legs to the side, intending to get up and get started right away.

He stopped as soon as he saw the calendar on his desk.

It was the wrong date.

Now, there were two possible reasons for this. The first was, of course, that he’d simply forgotten to mark the day as completed on his calendar yesterday evening, even though that was generally the very last thing he did before bed and longstanding habit had trained him to have trouble falling asleep if he didn’t do it.

They said forgetfulness was one of the first signs of mental decline.

Easy enough to check, though.

He got up and walked to the tent door, cracking it open. “Hey, you,” Nie Mingjue said to one of the guards going by on patrol. “Where’s Meng Yao?”

“I believe at this hour, Viceroy Meng would be checking over the supplies,” the guard said. “Would you like me to call him?”

“Mm,” Nie Mingjue said, because that wasn’t definitive; the guard didn’t know for certain, and he might just be making an assumption based on past precedent. “What about Lan Xichen?”

“Sect Leader Lan hasn’t yet arrived – I believe he’s due in for later today, closer to noon. Did you want –”

“No, I don’t want anything,” Nie Mingjue said, deeply relieved to have identified that he had not, in fact, forgotten to fill out his calendar. “I’m stuck in a time loop.”

“…ah,” the guard said, looking taken aback – he must be new to Qinghe, like many of the cultivators in the army. Like Meng Yao, for that matter. “Is that…bad?”

“No, it’s fantastic. I’m going back to sleep. No one is to bother me all day.”

“But – Sect Leader Lan –”

“Meng Yao can host him,” Nie Mingjue decided. He’d write out Meng Yao’s recommendation letter, put a big red mark on the calendar right now just to make sure he didn’t forget, and go back to sleep for the entire day like he hadn’t done in what must be literal years. “Like I said: don’t bother me.”

-

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes in the morning and sat up with a yawn. He looked at his calendar.

No big red mark.

“Fantastic,” he said, and went back to bed.

-

He slept for four days.

-

“Sect Leader Nie?” Meng Yao said, poking his head in. “Sect Leader Lan is – I’m sorry, are you painting?”

“I haven’t had time for it in ages,” Nie Mingjue said, scowling at the paper. “You know, I thought he was just trying to get out of practice, but actually Huaisang’s right. It really does require quite a lot of dexterity.”

Meng Yao opened his mouth, then closed it again.

After a few more moments, he asked, voice very cautious, “Are you painting a battlefield map?”

Nie Mingjue stopped, appalled. “Is that what it looks like?” he asked. “I was trying for a beaver. You know, the small furry swimming mammal from Xinjiang.”

“No, it looks like a beaver,” Meng Yao said, though now Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure if he believed him or not. “I just thought it might be some sort of – code. Maybe.”

Nie Mingjue conceded that this made sense, given what he was normally like. “No, no code,” he said. “Just a beaver. Thought it’d make for a funny fan painting to give to Huaisang.”

“I see,” Meng Yao said, and seemed to struggle internally for a moment.

“Is this about Xichen’s visit?” Nie Mingjue asked. “You can just show him around yourself if you like. I’ll see him tomorrow, should it ever come.”

“…right,” Meng Yao said. “I’ll – do that.”

“If you want a recommendation to leave to join the Jin sect, you can pick it up on the desk on your way out,” Nie Mingjue said, already turning back to his painting. “Have fun, good luck, kill Wen-dogs. The usual.”

Meng Yao didn’t say anything, just bowed. His expression was very strange.

-

Turned out that painting was a lot harder to accomplish when your supposed ‘friends’ kept trying to spring unwanted and unnecessary medical interventions on you.

Ugh.

-

Actually, that Song of Clarity shit from round 13 seemed really helpful? He’d have to look more into that.

-

Apparently, reading novels was even more concerning than painting.

What, like he wasn’t allowed to have hobbies? What else were time loops for if not to catch a break, damnit?

-

“Oh all right,” Nie Mingjue said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll fix the time loop.”

“You’d better,” Nie Huaisang said, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “What in the world did you do to freak them out at the crack of dawn such that they flew all the way to get me and back before it reset?”

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue said. “Nothing.”

“Did it involve sex?”

“No comment.”

“Did you forget that they’d reset when you woke up?”

“No comment.”

“Just fix the damn time loop, da-ge.”

“That sounds like someone who is not getting a beaver fan.”

“…beaver? Fan? For me? Wait, did you paint it? Da-ge! I want it! No, don’t go to sleep, I want to keep -”

-

“Please sit down,” Nie Mingjue said to Lan Xichen and Meng Yao. “I’m going to need your help on a strategic question of great importance.”

“Anything we can do to help, of course,” Lan Xichen said, and Meng Yao nodded.

“I’m always at your service, Sect Leader,” he said.

“Good,” Nie Mingjue said. “Now – what do you know about time loops?”

-

It took about five days, but he finally managed to figure out how to word the explanation so that it only took as long as a cup of tea to explain and got them to believe him without immediately deciding that he was insane. At that point, they were able to finally start seriously brainstorming solutions.

“We just need to figure out what it is that went wrong and fix it?” Meng Yao asked, sounding dubious. “What is considered ‘wrong’ in this context?”

“Things resulting in massive amounts of death, usually? Sometimes your own.” Nie Mingjue shrugged. “It’s a matter of fate, a natural opportunity to avert disaster; you only encounter one when you’re very lucky. Otherwise do you think my father would’ve died the way he did?”

“…an excellent point,” Lan Xichen said, grimacing. “Very well, let’s make a list of all the things you did, play out the possible consequences to see which ones could potentially result in disaster, and then you can try to change them one at a time.”

“Worth a shot,” Nie Mingjue said.

-

“Good morning, Sect Leader,” Meng Yao said, saluting. “What do you need me for this early? Sect Leader Lan has not yet arrived.”

“I need to talk to you about your future,” Nie Mingjue said. “And what you hope to get out of it.”

Meng Yao straightened his back and blinked owlishly, looking wary. “What do you mean, Sect Leader?”

“You want to go rejoin the Jin sect, don’t you? To earn a position with your father?”

Meng Yao blanched. “Sect Leader –”

“It’s a perfectly reasonable ambition to have,” Nie Mingjue assured him. “Unfortunately, I don’t think a letter of recommendation from me will cut it. I’m too young, and one of his rivals; Jin Guangshan doesn’t give me face – and what will you do if he sidelines you and puts you under someone awful to suppress all your achievements? Wouldn’t it be as good as throwing away your life, ruining your best chance for success?”

Meng Yao frowned. Nie Mingjue was pleased to see it was having an impact: he’d consulted Meng Yao the day before on precisely what wording to use, since his own versions were having no luck.

“I have no objection to your ultimate goal,” Nie Mingjue said. “But we’re going to need to be a bit more clever about it. When Xichen gets here, we’ll put our heads together and think about what we can do to make it impossible for your father to reject you. How does that sound?”

Meng Yao swallowed. “Thank you, Sect Leader,” he said, his voice low and sounding, if anything, a little touched. “I – appreciate it.”

“Good,” Nie Mingjue said, and put a red mark on his calendar. “Also, there’s another issue to discuss involving yourself and Xichen –”

-

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes in the morning and sat up with a yawn. He looked at his calendar.

There was a big red mark.

“Oh good,” he said, and turned around and laid back down.

“What’s good?” Lan Xichen muttered into his collarbone. “Mmm, A-Jue, no, don’t lie down. It’s time to get up.”

“It is not,” Meng Yao said from the other side. “It’s time to sleep in.”

“Listen to Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue said, settling his arms around him. “The world can wait a little more.”

“It really can’t, though,” Meng Yao said with a sigh, rubbing his eyes and starting to sit up, which was obviously the wrong move. “We’re in the middle of a war, and we all have important things to do today.”

“That’s true,” Nie Mingjue said, a little reluctantly. “I owe Huaisang a beaver.”

Meng Yao blinked.

Lan Xichen blinked.

“…it’s a long story.”

[chaosnightmare]

hey i wrote something tiny about shadow where he's watching the other characters at a party and it's mostly me projecting I'm sure. and you can read it if you want but you have to promise to treat me really niceys even if it's the worst

So, so loud.

Bass of a song roaring like thunder, screams of joy echoing through the sky and the colored explosives they buy for special occasions were certainly doing their job, on ground met by cheers among a cacophany of mingling.

See, this is why he didn't ever show up to parties. What good were they? All you do is walk in, be bombarded with constant energy for the duration of the entire night, and leave exhausted.

Was he the only person who didn't think that sounded fun at all?

Obscured in his namesake, he peeked around the corner to see what the others were up to.

Dancing...?

Everyone, all together though uncoordinated, up and dancing to the same song. That made sense... he'd never considered that dancing could be a more than two person practice. He crept slowly into the corner of the alleyway and watched closely.

Everyone was on the same rhythm, and yet they were all dancing differently. That made sense, too, he supposed. If more than 2 people are to improvise...

Some were actually dancing in pairs or groups, though. Rouge was with Knuckles, as she'd undoubtedly roped him into dancing with her.

That meant he couldn't rely on her for tonight, though. She was busy celebrating in her own way. He couldn't go cling to her side; If he wanted to join, he'd have to do it himself.

Could he?

How do you "join" a dance? Surely you can't just pop in and start dancing, can you? Aren't you supposed to ease into activities like this...?

He couldn't just walk in, though. He'd stick out more than ever.

At best, he'd be mocked for showing up in the first place. That, or met with more attention than he'd like. "We never see you! What made you finally show?" from a thousand different angles, all instantly overwhelming.

The thing about rarely attending gatherings and the like is that you tend to get branded as such. Being 'The Guy Who Doesn't Show For Parties' is a bit of a difficult reputation to shake.

Show up to one, and not only are you treated to a landslide of interrogation, but you're expected to do it for the next party, and all parties following.

Being seen at all is a sign that you've come out of your shell, and you apparently aren't supposed to go back in after you're done.

Maybe it would just be best to stay hidden, then.

Laughter filled the noise-stained air of the immediate area, snapping him out of his train of thought. Sonic had blundered and spilled the entire punch bowl onto himself.

Klutz.

With a light chuckle, he shook the embarassment off, and ran a lap to dry himself in what appeared to be about half a second.

Showoff.

The party resumed as if nothing had happened. How quickly he was able to recover from that. They didn't even make fun of him.

That wouldn't be the case on the other end...

If HE had done that, it'd be "Ultimate-Loose-Feet" all the way home. He'd have gotten frustrated with the condescension, and further berated for getting embarrassed.

Rouge insisted that nobody actually tries to make fun of him.

Rouge was right about everything anyways.

He didn't initially realize he was staring at her, but his body gave it away. Noticing a swaying motion from within himself, seeing her move in a similar fashion, he instantly understood.

Mirroring. That godforsaken habit of his.

Perhaps resulting from the circumstances of his creation, he mirrored almost constantly. Do anything in front of him, and he'd likely try to copy you. Perhaps it was fate. He lived to his name more often than he'd like to admit.

It was especially humiliating when it was Sonic. He all but invited the comparison he often loathed by outright imitating his movements in battle.

The lights began to flash in a familiar fashion... Red, fading in and out. His stomach began to turn.

He knew how to dance. It wasn't that he couldn't. He and Maria would dance to whatever records they had on hand at home. That was another thing they promised to do together.

The music comes from earth. Sometimes they make the music live, right in front of you. Let's go dance at a concert someday.

He didn't go to concerts, either.

What was the point? Why dance like this at all?

No, no, it was those lights. The damn lights were getting to him. He didn't want to be here anymore. The exposure therapy wasn't worth feeling like this.

Why were any of them dancing? What was there to ultimately celebrate? Didn't they know they were going to die? Maria danced like she wasn't even ill, she danced through pain and breathlessness. He didn't understand.

One moment spared meant nothing. Everybody he could see was going to someday vanish. Why were they still dancing?

They have so little time, and they choose to dance? They're wasting it. They're wasting their time. This is a waste of time.

This is a waste of everyone's time.

He felt himself shaking, tears welled in his eyes. He should have known better than to come here. At the very least, he didn't break down in view of anybody, but he couldn't stay. He was never meant to be here in the first place.

He needed to leave.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rouge could have sworn she'd seen something in the alley, curtained by shadow.

[215-luv]

CUPID’S TOUCH

short details of physical affection w/ inarizaki !!

KITA SHINSUKE

kita is a romantic man, and probably learns alot of heartfelt things from his grandmother

when walking together, he tends to entangle your pinky with his

^^ it’s a small, yet a very fluttering gesture to experience when you’re with kita. he just finds it so warming to be with you especially feeling your skin against his

one thing also is slow dancing with him, that’s the most memorable thing that the both of you have encountered throughout your relationship

there will be random nights wherein’ kita lets you play a song from the speakers so the both of you could sync in to the music

your arms encircle around his neck whilst his soft hands hold your waist so softly while rubbing against the fabric of your sweater/shirt

kita also rests his forehead against yours while pulling your closer until both of your chests collide each other

that’s a 100/100 for a fact

OJIRO ARAN

holding your waist will be the most used gesture he will be doing throughout your time together

why? because he wants to keep you closer to him

when i tell you that your scent makes aran happy, IT REALLY DOES!!

side hugs you and then sniffs your head while kissing your scalp at the same time and you couldn’t help but feel butterflies errupting your stomach

another thing that aran does is rubbing your shoulders (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)

when he sees you stressed he softly massages your shoulders because he knows that it makes you feel better

THATS A FACT BTW

one time you had a test and couldn’t answer majority of the questions asked because you realised you studied the wrong topic

you almost cried while the test was still on going and you were so stressed about it it’s not even funny

after class, you went to the gym to meet your boyfriend since the both of you walk home together

aran IMMEDIATELY noticed your mood

nahhh where is the happy y/n? arans loving, energetic and outgoing baby

she’s gone - and it’s because of the stupid test

he approaches you after practice and asks if your okay

you were about to answer his question when you felt his hands hoist itself up your shoulders to slowly massage it

suddenly your sadness goes away because that was literally what you needed all day

in the end, aran treats you to ice cream and he’s so glad to see his baby happy again :DDDD

MIYA ATSUMU

where do i start with him

so everyone knows how atsumu has a big ego and honestly, i’m not complaining

10/10 is not afraid of affection

let’s start with neck kisses - atsumu goes all out when he shoves you with his love and it’s kinda cute

he definitely gives you random neck kisses while he hugs you from behind

doesn’t matter if it’s innocent or not, he can do it either way

mostly does it when you cuddle tho - when he nuzzles his nose behind your neck and he gives you soft kisses at the side of your nape

one thing also is hugs!! any type of hug goes into his vocabulary

he will hug you EVERYWHEEEREEEEE

He doesn’t care darling!! because you’re his baby!!

✅ hugs before practice

✅ hugs after practice

✅ hugs first thing in the morning

✅ hugs when you depart at the train station

✅ hugs when rececess/lunch begins

✅ hugs when recess/lunch ends

LITERALLY ANYTIME & ANYWHERE

which is why you adore him alot!! he is the best at physical affection not gonna lie

MIYA OSAMU

our chef <3

when the both of you sit across each other one thing he’ll do for sure is playing “footsie” with you

and that is the cutest thing ever

when the both of you do that it ends up with heartfelt laughter

and osamu’s loving eyes never tearing away from you

it can occur anywhere, the both of you actually did it in the library and got kicked out in the end because apparently you laughed too loud HAHAHAHAHA

another affection that he loves doing and is absolutely his favorite is holding your face with his hands

he loves to caress your cheeks and then squish them together so your lips pucker up

HE FINDS IT SO CUTE AAAAA

he also pinches them sometimes

he does it all the time

holding your face is an everyday thing for him

especially when he gives you a kiss, like the smallest peck possible and he still moves his hands to hold your cheeks

will also do it when you feel sad

he’ll use his thumb to rub your soft skin while staring at your eyes

did i mention he loves yours eyes

baby he’s INLOVE, believe me

SUNA RINTARŌ

clingiest bf out there

remember when i said he doesn’t mind pda

that’s right y/n, you’re in for a ride

he loves snuggling to your side!! asf!!

especially cuddling - your man would force you down to the bed or couch and then wrap his arms around you then proceeds to snuggle until the space between you is all gone

will definitely lay his leg on top of your stomach and nuzzle his head to your neck

congratulations you officially adopted a koala

the next gesture suna does is playing with your hair (๑>◡<๑)

or rather, entangling his fingers along your strands

if he doesn’t entangle them, he caresses your head with his thumb and it’s so fluttering

he will ALWAYS do it during cuddling sessions, watching tv or just standing beside each other

he loves playing with your hair

like atsumu’s situation - everytime the both of you separate ways or meet up, his hand will immediately fly to your hair so that he can caress your scalp

plus, he kisses your forehead at the same time

also i ummmmmmmmmmm just wanted to add that suna also loves circling his arms around your waist hehe

also the type of boyfriend that would want to keep you closer to him always

he’s SO GOOD at any public displays of affection to the point that it just comes out so naturally

he’s a keeper!! (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)

[elysianslove]

hi !! i am in love w ur writing omg <33 can i req hcs of miya twins && suna w a crush who is in the girls ( or manager of the boys team if u only do gn!reader hcs ) vball team of inarizaki and they share the same bus or sumn when theyre traveling to another school ? thank u <3

hi hi hi!!! thank you so much <333 and i write fem!reader, hehe, so i made her part of the girls vbc! i hope you like these <3

miya atsumu 

i firmly believe none of the hq boys would be picky about the girl they’re dating. like yeah they all say certain traits they want but when it really comes down to it and they are dating you, they won’t be upset if you don’t fit certain previous criteria of theirs 

that being said, tsumu would absolutely lose his shit if his girlfriend also happened to be a volleyball player like he’d be convinced it’s fate or something

like he wouldn’t crush on you because of volleyball, he just thought you were a really pretty girl he’d constantly see in the halls and stuff 

and listen! he really was planning on asking you out

except asking a girl out has never been so nerve-wracking. like he’s never, ever felt this nervous about it?? and he’d keep chickening out every time he saw you

fast forward to you guys having to travel to another prefecture for a game, and it just so happens that the boys’ basketball team also had a game out of town. between the teachers and coaches, they decided since both the boys and the girls’ volleyball teams were going to the same prefecture, you’d just take the bus and make due 

the bus isn’t small, but y’all are a lot, so it’s a bit of a mess when you’re climbing on 

somehow, someway, you find yourself sitting next to miya atsumu 

pls he will never stop talking about how you two were meant to be after omg 

imagine his shock when he looks up from his phone and he sees you sitting next to him his brain literally goes ???!!@#$#&^$#&%(&

you just smile at him sweetly and say, “i hope it’s okay that i sat here. there’s not really anywhere else.” 

he can’t really speak. no like he really can’t. he’s. starstruck? just completely gone. you’re just so pretty and now he gets to sit next to you for the entire ride? he’s thanking everything holy

samu smacks him on the head because he still hasn’t replied to you and you’re starting to look a little saddened 

“uh, yeah, yeah, s’fine, yeah.” i’m telling y’all he’s secretly a complete dork. 

at first he doesn’t really know what to say, he just knows that he really wants to talk to you, like badly, and finally his brain catches up to him and he asks you about volleyball. you two spend nearly the entire ride talking about the sport

his heart would not stop beating insanely fast the entire time 

so y’all arrive, and you’re about to head off to the girls’ gymnasium when he stops you. you’re kind confused but you don’t stop him bc !!! hello !!! attractive !!! and kind !!! and interesting !!!

and omg you don’t think you’ve ever seen miya atsumu flustered before, and apparently neither has his brother or his friends because they’re in the back just snickering to each other

and finally, he manages to ask, “do you like, wanna hang out? soon? tomorrow?” 

it makes you giggle how red his cheeks are 

the relief that floods him when you say yes is unbelievable 

he wishes you good luck with your game with a kiss on the cheek that shocks everyone because what a contrast to the person he was literally a minute ago 

just v briefly: y’all are THE couple. you know what i’m talking about right? imagine just him being at your games and cheering you on the loudest, kissing you fully on the mouth after disregarding any rules in place, or the opposite, of you cheering him on his games and just jumping at him even though he’s really sweaty and hugging him so tight with your legs wrapped around his waist

no please don’t think about going to the gym with tsumu, where he makes you cling onto shirtless him as he’s doing pull ups and you kiss him every time he lowers himself, or practicing volleyball with tsumu, where he’ll serve a ball onto your ass and have you chase him around the gymnasium until he lets you jump onto him and you both fall on the ground

and no! don’t you dare consider practicing serves with him and it being a competition until you’re both so spent and breathlessly lying on the cold ground next to each other or how proud he is every time he sees you finally achieve something you’ve been trying really hard to perfect —

good bye 🏃🏻‍♀️

miya osamu

okay different from atsumu, osamu knew you were a volleyball player, and he realized he had a crush on after watching you play once 

your gymnasium, the girls’, was up for inspection but you had a game against another school so you’d borrowed the boys’. the whole boys team decided to stay and watch and holy shit was he impressed. your team won by a landslide, and it was clear the rest of his team was also impressed by the way they were all speaking about you

after that, you kinda stood out to him more? like, before he wouldn’t really notice you, but now anytime you were around or he heard your name or you were mentioned or he heard your voice he would kind of perk up and his heart would beat a little fast 

he was like fuck 😃🔪

you didn’t really share classes with him so it wasn’t too difficult to avoid you until his little crush had wavered 

yeah until god himself seated you right across from him on the bus while both your teams were on their way to a different school. it’s not that there wasn’t a bus, the coaches were just lazy and decided to combine you both since you were headed the same way anyways 

the entire time he wouldn’t stop staring at you while you chatted with your friends and with some of the boys from his team. you just seemed so. magical. he hated it. why were you so perfect

atsumu was asleep for half the ride so he only made fun of him for the other half. it was v humiliating. 0/10

he thought he had been soooo slick lmfao 😹

he was not

samu’s generally a slick guy but. not right now he wasn’t. not with his crush he isn’t

so when everyone steps off the bus and he’s like stretching out his limbs from being seated for really long, he feels someone tap on his shoulder, so he spins around and sees you and honest to god his blood runs cold

you had a really sheepish smile on your face like you were ready to embarrass him and when you said, “hey i noticed you staring,” on god he wanted to die.

but then you noticed his pale face and quickly went, “no, no, i think it’s very flattering! and i’m hoping it means i get to take you out?” 

cue tsumu’s cheering in the back he is so obnoxious bhjdbcdbjc

samu’s mouth is moving but his brain isn’t really working he just likes to thank god that he said yes and didn’t say anything else 

this time, you wish him luck with a kiss on the cheek and he really hates how his entire body is just heating up right now so on the outside it looks like he’s not enjoying this in the least, but trust, his heart says others

that was the most nervous you’ve ever been but he doesn’t need to know that 

on the bus ride back he invites you to sit next to him in the back, and you’re both a little shy about it all but you make conversation and somehow it ends up with him telling you he loves to cook, which leads to the promise that he’ll cook for you one day

it’s a very sweet conversation where you’re both really excited but you’re also a little nervous about it all

again, briefly: if we’re going with you being a wing spiker like him, then training with samu is so fun. he loves to toss the balls up higher and higher knowing you can’t reach them, until one day you shock him and the ball goes smack on the other side of the court and damn he just fell in love all over again.

tsumu practices with you two sometimes and nine times out of ten he’ll make samu think he’s tossing to him then toss to you instead. 

you’d think he’d be quiet and calm while he watches you play? absolutely not he is the loudest. it’s okay you luv him <3

omgomgomg meeting up with samu after both your after school practices are over and you just walking home alone in the quiet and you’re both munching on some snacks and it’s so serene and your hand is in his and you’re swinging your arms playfully and it’s just so

sigh 

remember that promise he made to cook for you? every weekend without fail, since he usually wakes up before you, he makes you breakfast, leaves his home, and wakes you up with a little box of your favorites. the tradition never falters. every weekend you wake up to his beaming face with a steaming box of breakfast. husband material 

suna rinatarō

with suna, you two briefly knew each other

you shared class with him, and sat quite near him so you were like sort of acquainted with each other. i feel like suna’s not too big on speaking with strangers not because he’s introverted but because he just doesn’t wanna waste his time

he does speak to you from time to time though, mainly just to ask about class or homework or exams 

he didn’t know you were on the girl’s volleyball team though, so when you walked onto the bus, and he spotted you, he was really confused. when you spotted him back and waved at him with a bright smile his brain went uh oh

and then you walked closer to where he sat and his brain went UH OH

and then you asked to sit next to him because you’re all the girls are scattered everywhere and aside from them he’s the only one you know here so he just shrugs and goes yeah sure 

his brain is going uhohuhohuhoh repeatedly though he’s just exceptionally good at not showing it 

you don’t really talk as everyone settles down, each of you is busy looking down at your phones, but when the bus starts moving, suna takes out his headphones and 

he offers one to you 

vdhjsdshfkwhhesajkdhksf

ok im good 

you’re a little taken aback but you accept. the entire ride you two don’t talk, you just listen to music together, and occasionally he hands you his phone to choose a song, and somehow, in the middle of all this, your head fell on his shoulder and his head rested on yours and it was really comfortable and good god does he have a crush on you

when you take out your phone and open instagram/snapchat and start messing with the filters, taking snaps of him and making faces with him, and he gets to hear and feel your little laughs he realizes yeah, maybe he does have a tiny crush on you 

tiny 

minuscule

you skip away from him after stepping off the bus with a yell of good luck. he makes time after his game to go watch yours and he is thoroughly impressed by your skill. decides maybe it is not as minuscule as he thought.

the boys are on the bus before the girls, so when you walk in, he waves you over and points at his headphones, which makes you laugh a little and rush over to him. this time, he doesn’t wait for the bus to start moving before he hands you one earbud, and just like before, your head rests on his shoulder throughout 

middle of the ride, he opens the notes app, and types, ‘you’re really cute,’ while showing you the screen 

you take the phone from him and type back, ‘you’re really pretty.’ 

and then a conversation carries like this until he just straight up goes, ‘wanna go out with me?’ 

this time, you don’t take the phone from him. instead, you sit up a little, press a kiss to his cheek and whisper, “yes.” 

it only shocked him a little a lot

as soon as you’d said that, he relaxes a bit, and as you’re going to rest your head on his shoulder, he brings an arm around you, hugging you closer to him i am going to Scream

briefly: please, imagine just how encouraging it is for suna to see you in the stands at any of his games like it just gives him that necessary boost  and whenever he wins he just cups your face and kisses you so passionately yet serenely and there’s that small smile hidden in the kiss only you can feel and tell of

or just imagine you and suna relaxing after a long day of practice in a bath together or you completely drained snuggled in bed as you lazily and sleepily pillow talk 

or oh my god, suna coming before a game and helping you do your hair in a braid or anything that will keep it out of your face because he has a little sister and he’s just so good at it and all the girls are fawning over how he’s sitting on the bench with you kneeling between his legs and he’s just working diligently at your hair and once he’s done he just gives your head a little pat before leaning over and kissing your cheek like “all done babe good luck” 

or suna watching smugly as you absolutely destroy your opponents or if you ever play with the boys how you never go easy on them and he just 

heart eyes <3

end note; im sobbing im this 🤏🏼 close to losing my mind why are they not REAL