#I ALSO RAN OUT OF ADJECTIVES

[dalkyum]

EVERY MONTH OF 2023 IN CONTENT! I was tagged by @taegyunie and @dazzlingkai, thank you for thinking of me!! 💕

rules: link your favorite and/or most popular post from each month this year <3 (it’s totally fine to skip months!) and tag some CCs you love!

I know this is late so no pressure to do this at all but I'll tag @tamburins @hwangelbaby @jae-bums @jftk if you'd like to do it!

this is literally going to be emi reviews all of her gifs of yugyeom but like. let's go skfjdkjf

JANUARY most popular: yugjae from youngjae best friend radio (deserved) my favorites: this yugyeom instalive set!! also I think this set from the ponytail mv came out really pretty

FEBRUARY most popular: jinyoung album shoot (I think this is literally my most popular gifset jdjkfj) my favorites: ok I love this set from one of the aomg tour stops because well. wet. also he's cute. and this markjingyeom set that I did for the ahgase admirer event is the most like. technical gifset I've ever done and I think the colors came out so good

MARCH most popular: youngjae errr day behind (I need to do another set with this formatting I think it's so fun) my favorites: yugyeom aomg online concert cuteness, this youngjae performance set is soso pretty, and these dyeary gifs of yugyeom bc I always wanted to make big gifs of this clip even before I taught myself how to gif so they are special to mee

APRIL most popular + my favorite: another big gif yugyeom dyeary set as is my right

MAY most popular: yugyeom falling in love radio perf (apparently I was not giffing in april or may skjdkdf but I do like this set a lot of people said it was pretty)

JUNE most popular: YUGYEOM @ SEOUL WATERBOMB (DESERVED!!) also my most popular yugyeom set in general. also one of my faves 💕 my favorites: I think this set is cute too:) and!! this yugyeom w korea edit, I think I colored this so well. just absolutely killed that evil green filter

JULY most popular: yugyeom from it's live's tiktok (also a fave tbh) my favorites: this lolo performance set! and this one too, I think the coloring came out really nice

AUGUST most popular: just some guy for my isa's birthday (love this set, the clips go together so well it's so satisfying kfdkjd) my favorites: apparently I like everything I made in august so these are my most favorite posts. yugyeom dazed korea photoshoot is my best edit to date I love these sm. this yugyeom it's live set came out so hd looking and the colors are pretty:) I also love this lolo ending fairy set the coloring came out so good. AND no one cared abt this one but I love this set of yugyeom on monstop he's so prettie

SEPTEMBER most popular: yugyeom daebak show set (also a fave!! amazing. glad we all agree) my favorites: this yugyeom ig live set I think he looks so good in the blue 💙 I really need to make more ig live/vlive gifs they're truly my calling and yet I never make them skldfk

OCTOBER most popular: yugyeom lolo curv live my favorites: I love both of these sets of yugyeom at octopop he looked so amazing incredible this is one of my fav looks on him ever (yes I know it's just a tank top don't worry about me I can't be saved)

NOVEMBER most popular: my fancam set of yugyeom performing lights in berlin (screaming crying throwing up. nothing to add. obviously also one of my favorites, the lighting is so pretty and warm 🥹) my favorites: apparently I also like everything from november asdklf this youngjae suit dance set came out exactly the way I wanted 🩷 also yugyeom's birthday post of course. and yugyeom x buzzfeed uk just bc I didn't stop staring at this set for like a week. the first gif alone gave me enough serotonin to survive for a month

DECEMBER most popular: yugyeom take you down perf 220331 (this set came out so good. deserved) my favorites: I love this youngjae mencert set, this also came out exactly how I wanted skfjd youngjae has the best performance videos I swear. and this gifset of yugyeom performing take you down is so beautiful to mee I redid it a lot of times and I like what I ended up with!!

my goals for 2024 are to post more gifs and keep being normal about that man 🩷 I can literally see my improvement from the beginning of the year to now and I think that's really cool:)

if u have ever reblogged my gifs I love u. I'm literally over here just doing my thing and u are all so kind. kiss kiss

[houseofceline]

My Pretty Girl - T.N.

Bitter Burns and Glowy Skin

Pairing: Ravenclaw and sort of ditzy but talented Reader x Slytherin notorious playboy Theodore Nott

Warnings: None (yet ;))

Summary: You need to stop being so easily persuaded.

Author's Note: Long awaited chapter! Sorry about the wait, college is beating my ass right now but almost winter break! Also someone tell me what a taglist is and how to make one?

< 5

__________________

“Come on please,” Lorenzo begged, turning fully around in his seat to face you. 

You hesitated. Parties weren’t really your thing. They were loud, exhausting, scary, sweaty, and so many more unpleasant adjectives. 

There was only ten minutes left of class which meant only ten more minutes of Lorenzo and Mattheo trying to convince you to go to a hufflepuff house party. 

You weren’t stupid you knew what went on at hufflepuff parties. There was a link between them being prodigies at herbology and Cho coming back to the dorms giggling and wobbling. 

“It’s going to be so fun though,” Lorenzo clasped his hands together and pleaded. 

“Your boyfriend’s also going to be there,” Mattheo added, wiggling his eyebrows. 

You felt your face heat up and tried shushing the loud boy in case anyone was eavesdropping. 

“Why would it matter if Theo’s going or not,” you murmured quietly as you glanced around the classroom, paranoid. 

Mattheo smirked, “I never said Nott. So you want him to be your boyfriend?” 

Shoot. You avoided eye contact with both boys but made sure to shake your head no, not allowing them the chance to assume anything. 

“No, bu-” saved by the bell. You reminded yourself to give Dumbledore a giant kiss on his cheek. 

You grabbed your backpack and ran away from the two slytherins who bursted out in laughter. 

You spotted Cho and Cedric in the hallways and ran to them knowing that the two boys probably wouldn’t follow. 

“Hey y/n!” Cedric greeted as he spotted you before Cho did. 

“Y/n!” Cho exclaimed, hooking her free arm, the one that wasn’t linked onto Cedric’s, to yours. 

“How was class?” Cho asked while you looked behind you, sighing when you didn’t see them lingering behind you. 

“As interesting as the history of magic gets,” you rolled your eyes while Cedric laughed. 

“It’ll get better, trust me,” Cedric assured while Cho shook her head. 

“Don’t listen to him, he said the same thing about potions,” Cho objected while you groaned in response. 

Well to be honest it wasn’t that bad anymore. With Theo’s help your grades were getting better and you no longer dreaded the class. At least not as much as before, plus the study dates were also fun. 

“You coming to the party tonight?” Cedric asked while Cho pulled your intertwined arms up to smack her head. 

“Shoot! That’s what I forgot to ask you last night,” she exclaimed before looking over at you with pleading eyes, one that you were all too familiar with regarding this subject. 

“No…” you answered quietly but it seemed like that was the wrong answer when Cho abruptly stopped the three of you from walking. 

“Please, it’s a Friday night. What else are you going to do in our dorm alone?” She let go of Cedric’s arm and turned to you, grabbing your arm with both of her hands. 

“I want to work on my dress,” you answered while Cho groaned and pretended to cry while Cedric laughed at his girlfriend. 

“Please please please please please,” Cho chanted while you tried shaking her grasp away. 

“Okay okay!” You exclaimed as she cheered. 

“We need to go get ready!” Cho squealed as she let go of your hand and took your hand instead. 

“Wait,” she stopped the two of you from running off before running back to kiss Cedric goodbye on the cheek. 

“Let’s go look even hotter!” 

_________________

You wanted to vomit, you really did. You had arrived with Cho but you felt bad for making her babysit you all night therefore you encouraged her to go find Cedric. But obviously that was a big mistake now that you found yourself alone and wanting to leave, if you could even find the door at this point. It felt like the whole school was here. 

“Oh look who decided to show up!” Lorenzo yelled as soon as he saw you. And wherever Lorenzo was, you knew Mattheo was near. 

“Nott’s not here yet,” Mattheo raised both of his eyebrows as he eyed your dress choice of the night. You had gone with a black lace dress and Mattheo had to murmur an apology to Theo before complimenting your outfit. 

“I’m not here for Theo,” you tried to convince them even though you had hoped to have already seen him around. 

“Yeah sure, keep telling yourself that,” Lorenzo snickered as he passed you a drink. 

You weren’t a big drinker, mostly because of the fact that you were a lightweight. You took a sip and automatically your face scrunched up as you felt the bitter burn in your throat.  

“You came here alone?” Mattheo frowned, “We could’ve went and got you.”

You waved them off, “I arrived with Cho don’t worry I’m okay.” 

“Well what are you doing standing around for? Let’s go dance!” Lorenzo exclaimed as he pulled you onto the dance with Mattheo following behind. 

“I can’t dance!” You exclaimed, not wanting to embarrass yourself with your lousy dance moves. 

“It’s easy, just move to the beat!” Lorenzo shrugged like it was that easy. 

You took a few more sips of your drink, hoping that it would suppress some nerves. After all, it is easier to do “embarrassing” things when you don’t realize you’re doing them. 

“See, natural dancer,” Mattheo praised as he threw an arm around you and Lorenzo. 

Suddenly Lorenzo tensed up causing you and Mattheo to look over. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked following his gaze across the room. Lorenzo tried to stop you from turning around, but it was too late. 

If it was possible, Mattheo would’ve tried to catch and save your falling, shattering heart. 

Mattheo cursed under his breath as you tried to push the lump that was forming down your throat. 

You didn’t think much of anything when you hung out with Theo. You enjoyed his presence, but maybe it never occurred to you that you were not the only one who had it. 

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the stabbing feeling in your chest, but you felt like the longer you watched Theo kiss the pretty blonde girl the stronger your stomach churned. 

You had no right to be so upset. The two of you were just friends. 

You were happy for your friend. She looked really pretty from where you stood. Long wavy blonde hair contrasting your dark straight black strands. She was thin and tall, like the model bodies you drew in your sketchbook for your designs.  

You were happy for him, happy that he had someone who seemed nice and pretty. But maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe she means nothing to him. But that would mean you didn’t mean enough for him to not kiss a stranger. 

“Something’s stuck in my throat,” you bitterly chuckled as you turned away from them and chugged your drink. 

Lorenzo looked at you and felt his own heart break at your dejected expression. Your face resembled the image of a small child in time out. 

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Mattheo sighed and patted your back and you feigned a shocked expression. 

“Huh? What do you mean?” You played dumb as if you never saw them. But the boys knew better when they saw your eyes starting to tear up.  Eyes don't lie.

You started to dance again, grabbing Lorenzo’s cup and chugged. Maybe being lightweight wasn’t a bad thing. You couldn’t even feel the hole in your chest as you danced with tears rolling down your face. When the disco lights hit your face, your face shined and glistened with tears. Maybe you looked gorgeous, like an angel with your glowy face. But maybe you looked like a miserable mess, perhaps the reason he wasn’t here with you right now.

[houpss]

SKZ have a crush on you

you can come up with the ending yourself...whether the reader will be with the member or not is up to you!

light angst, a little fluff, uncertain relationship

Bang Chan

oh...this man talks about his feelings openly and without fear.

He literally phrases: "I'll steal and fuck your girlfriend while you're not looking."

He has a huge amount of female and male attention, but...

But it doesn't work out that way with you...

You were out of his reach.

You were too beautiful, too sweet, too good...he wasn't like that.

Chris is the one who will call you his muse and write romantic songs for you, some of which have been published.

His love is manifested in acts of care, he is always there, he is more tactile with you than with others.

He will give you whatever you want, just ask.

Chan has 8 members so he is like a dad...he protects and cares for them

And he also wants to take care of you.

He wants to love you openly.

But you didn’t notice his feelings.

Although...you loved Chris. Literally loved to the moon and back.

For some reason, it seemed to you that Chris only saw you as a friend or family member, just like his Members.

Yeah...close friends....

He will say exactly the same phrase to you:

"You came..."–"You called"

It seems you are both fools.

Maybe he's too soft with you? Maybe he needs to leave?

He won't be able to give up on you.

I will kill myself, I will destroy my soul, but I will be with you.

But i'll wait for you

I love you to the moon and back

기다려 여기 me and max

서운해해도 don't be mad

너한텐 할 수 없는 game (Bloo-But i'll wait for you)

Lee Know

How could Minho let this happen?

Lee Minho was head over heels in love with you.

No one has seen his loving eyes, no one has ever felt his gentle touch.

How did he allow himself to fall in love with you?

This is a completely crazy idea, he didn’t love to love.

But you turn his world upside down, he is literally lost in you.

You clearly feel like Minho hates you.

Minho is like cold winter, he is like snowy weather, he looks like frosty weather.

And you were in summer, you're complete opposites.

But even after the coldest winter, love comes.

He calls you the most beautiful adjectives, it’s like he’s trying to silently scream about his feelings.

He speaks directly and harshly, he loves the truth straight forward.

"And you will be obsessed with me, I will be everywhere: I will be in your favorite songs, I will be between the lines of books, I will be in every passerby... I am your addiction"

Lee Minho couldn't fall in love, but he wanted to love.

All the pretty stars shine for you, my love

Am I the girl that you dream of? (Lana Del Rey–Pretty when you cry)

Seo Changbin

He loved and hated you at the same time.

Oh.. Seo Changbin can hate?

Yes, he did it with you. He loved you so much that he hated you for it.

You were everywhere, you were ingrained in his existence and mind.

He was very sweet and friendly and loved people.

It didn’t work out that way with you, it was as if he deliberately didn’t want to have much contact with you.

He loved you silently, probably without asking for anything in return.

Before he even notices, he begins to pay attention to you... be it small acts of attention or dialogues with you.

"You can take Changbin out of first love, but not first love out of Changbin."

Again, it was like you were different, you weren’t like anyone else. He noticed you immediately when he met you.

He seems upset that you will never be his.

Oh...the boy is gloomy. The boy looks like a thunderstorm.

Conquer your lonely heart, get used to the emptiness.

When you ran your fingers over your lips

I bought it from glossy magazines

Everything you asked for and even what you didn’t ask for

How can you be so terribly beautiful? (Rocky-WITCH)

Hwang Hyunjin

Oh yes, you and Hyunjin have been friends since childhood.

It even got to the point that you are idols in the same agency. No wonder Hyunjin adores you, he's obsessed.

Fans loved your interactions, they were sure there was something between you and Hyunjin.

Hyunjin wants to get into your soul, he wants to take your heart into his cold hands.

You were the forbidden fruit, and forbidden fruit is always sweet.

It’s as if you’re chasing him, you’re everywhere, he feels you everywhere.

But you're just his friend, his sweet best friend.

It was normal for you to peck Hyunjin on the lips, naturally in private or during greetings (while no one was looking). Hyunjin feels addicted.

You are worse than drugs, you cause an addictive effect. You are his absolute delight.

The boy will paint your portraits, he will exalt you like a goddess.

So why do you only see him as a friend?

Hwang Hyunjin doesn't deserve to be your friend, he wants to be your boyfriend.

The boy loves to hurt himself, he loves hardcore. He loves pain and whines a lot.

He just replaces you with pain, it helps.

Touch me, yeah

I want you to touch me there

Make me feel like I am breathing

Feel like I am human (The neighbourhood–A little death)

Han Jisung

You never paid attention to Jisung.

But Jisung was so loud and cheerful that he started to annoy you.

Jisung did this on purpose, he liked you.

The boy will notice you immediately, you immediately fell into his soul. So cold and inaccessible.

He wants to melt the ice on your heart, he wants to become your sun.

Every day he fell more in love with you, the cold intensifying his desire.

“Your love is addictive” – your words

He is very kind and cheerful with you, he is so easy to talk to.

He won't give up to get you. Even when you send him the rudest obscenities

I'm your boy.

He will sing to you, and you will ask him to shut up. You secretly love it, his voice is so beautiful.

But you should hate Han Jisung because it's the right thing to do.

You would get closer to him, but...

No.

"Is it fashionable to jerk off to him?"

"hit of the season"

Lee Felix

It was impossible not to fall in love with Felix.

everyone loves Felix!

And he loves you.

This sunny boy literally drowned in his love for you, it completely absorbed him and did not allow other feelings to pass through.

But you don't seem to notice him.

Felix dreamed about you, you are in his thoughts. The first thought in the morning, a relieving thought when he is busy and the last thought before going to bed.

He's trying to get as close to you as possible

He will become your best friend.

Felix is too good, he is an angel in a human body.

The world is not worthy of Felix, so why did he love you?

Every day, like a painful melody, this unrequited love sounded in his heart. He experienced all emotions - from boundless happiness to deep sadness - alone

He couldn't imagine life without you

If you leave, there will be no point in living.

He writes you poems, he gives you the most expensive gifts, he just wants you to love him. Love him at least a little.

Perhaps his efforts will remain irretrievably lost in time. But one thing is certain: he will continue to love you, deeply and truly, even if he never hears your answer.

Come on scratch my back

So as to reach the heart

Both you and I want this (ЩЕНКИ–dirt)

Kim Seungmin

It's like he's afraid to get close to you.

On the contrary, he moves away. Every day it gets stronger, he loves you so much and doesn’t want to see you so much.

Seungmin took this step not because of a lack of love; in fact, on the contrary, he was struck by this love.

In every breath you took, every word you said, he found the perfect embodiment of his dreams. You were his sun, his muse, his everything.

But he knew he couldn't be with you. He saw how disappointed you were in your past love, how your trust and heart were damaged. He couldn't afford to repeat the same mistake. He couldn't risk their relationship knowing that the end could only be pain and disappointment.

It hurts so much to give up on someone you love.

He deserved happiness, he deserved love, but he couldn't have it with you.

He didn't want to ruin your life or be the source of your pain.

He will go away and it will be easier for everyone.

He will disappear from your life as suddenly as he appeared.

He will never forget you, he will never stop loving you. But he knows that sometimes the best decision is to let go of the one you love. This is exactly what he did because to him, your happiness was much more important than his own.

He looks at the dawn and remembers you.

Your nose is covered in cocaine, you can barely stand

I am the secret that you cannot hide

I think about you too much (Pharaoh-unplugged 2)

Yang Jeongin

You are his first love.

He sees a future with you, he sees stars in you.

It was the first time he felt such strong feelings for someone.

Oh, he is just learning about love, but it can hurt or beat sometimes. Love can completely break the psyche.

But he doesn't care as long as you exist.

Jeongin will turn to the Hyuns for advice. how to get your attention and make you fall in love.

He will be so romantic...he will be so gentle with you.

He is afraid to do something wrong so as not to scare you away

He will be a gentleman and will wait for the moment until you fall in love, he will do everything for this!

He will wait for you all his life if necessary, but I am sure that you will fall in love faster.

“He replaced my home, love and friends. He is my everything.”

Jeongin is like warm weather, everyone is waiting for him and wants him.

Feeling so lonely, 'cause it's not enough

Missin' you only ever since we fell in love (Ciggarets after sex–Touch)

[intoxicated-chan]

Use of spider venom (paralyzation) when you only want to be his one night stand. 🫠 he sees the act as an open invitation to something more

Noxious

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ You had a stressful night, wine and sex could fit it, right?... Right?

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ I used translations from spanishdict.com. Please let me know if anything is incorrect. I am also trying to get at least one request out each day!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.1k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, NON-CON, YANDERE THEMES, alcohol use, swearing, fingering, biting, pet names (good girl, mi reina), venom use, paralyzation, slight drinking blood…

DARK CONTENT!! Minors, Do Not Interact! 18+

Nox·ious // adjective

Harmful, poisonous, or very unpleasant. “They were overcome by the noxious fumes.”

You scroll through the angry texts from your family. With a huff, you put your phone on silent and turn it over, not wanting to watch your phone light up at each text. You just wanted to scream at the top of your lungs but you were in a bar where you wanted to relax and try to at least drink some emotions away.

You don’t see the bartender coming your way. They slide the wine glass near your phone, “Um, I didn’t order this.” First, you look at the wine, it being a deep red and then at the bartender.

“From the man in the corner, dressed expensive. He said to give you the top shelf.” Then they leave, walking off to help out other customers.

You take the glass in between your fingers and look around the bar until you find a man dressed expensive, like what the bartender said.

He seems to be on the older side, the man has a fair tan complexion and a short brown hair that is brushed back by his fingers.

His jacket is thrown over the chair beside him, his shirt has a few buttons unbuttoned and his tie is loose. You watch him take a few sips from his glass before he makes eye contact with you.

He seems to grin. He keeps his eyes on as he pulls his jacket off the chair and motions for you to take a seat.

Well, fuck it.

You stand and walk towards him. Drink in hand and avoid bumping into people. But your eyes remained on his brown ones, not once did he look away from you, even when drinking from his glass. Finally, you come to his table.

“Care to sit?” He invited.

“Um, yeah.” You take a seat, wine glass still in hand, “I’d like to thank you for this.” You take a sip. Fruity with a wonderful aroma and a sweet, dark flavor.

“You like my choice?” He asks, “I thought it might suit you.” He leans back in his chair.

“You chose well, what made you pick it?”

“All I saw was a woman looking down.” He answers.

“Well, I needed this.” Swirling your glass around before setting it down, “It’s been a stressful week.”

“Care to share?”

You shake your head, “I just need something to relax and the wine is perfect.”

All he does is hum, running his finger along the edge of his glass. He looks up at you, “Care for more wine?” Happily, he doesn’t press on it.

“I’m thinking for a little… More?” You suggest and he perks up almost instantly. You swear that you could see his eyes change colors for a second.

He leans in closer, throwing an arm over your chair, “What are you thinking?”

“I’d like to know your name first before I share.” You grab your wine and drink it.

“It’s Miguel, how about yours?”

“(Y/n).” You give yours.

Miguel carefully takes the glass from your hand and sets it down, then he grabs your chin, “Can I kiss you?” You nod, which makes him smirks, “I need you to use your words.”

“Please.”

“Good girl.” He whispers, closing the gap in between you two. Your eyes shut and your arms wrap around his neck.

One thing you forgot to mention was the way he spoke. The words fell off his tongue smoothly, his voice was deep and pleasant.

You whine when he pulls away, “Care to come to my place?”

You should’ve said no…

You laid in his bed, his body in between your legs and his lips remained on your. Your fingers ran and pulled at his hair, even clawing at his back.

His fingers curled inside your cunt, then his thumb strokes your clit. He feels you clench and your back arches off the bed as you let out moans.

He moves away from your mouth and kisses down your neck, “Eres tan hermosa.” (You are beautiful.) He hums, watching your face and how your eyes shut tightly in pleasure.

His fingers are crooked in just the right angle and he continues to fuck you with his fingers right through your orgasm and he doesn’t stop his movements.

Even when you grab his wrist and try to pull away. You felt yourself begin to shake, “Puedes hacerlo.” (You can do it.) You hear.

“S-Slow down, please.” You ask Miguel.

“Solo dame uno más.” (Just give me one more.) He begs.

But you shake your head, finally opening your eyes to meet his… Red ones? He can see the tears in your eyes and it makes him go even faster.

“Please, stop!” You manage to say through pants, trying to keep your mouth shut.

Finally, he stops. Miguel pulls his fingers out and watches you try to calm yourself down, “I… I think I need to go.” You sit up, avoiding Miguel’s gaze.

But you feel his eyes still on you, “You can stay, you know.” He pulls you closer to him, “I’m so sorry.” He says, planting a kiss on your shoulder.

You feel his hands move down to your waist, slowly pushing you back down on the bed. With a huff, “Just… Just make it quick.”

What you don’t see is the sinister smirk on his face.

Suddenly, his hand is slapped over your mouth and you feel the pain on the right side of your neck. His fangs pierced your neck’s skin, filling some of his mouth with blood. His other hand is immediately on your shoulder, keeping you pushed up on the bed.

It wasn’t long before the pain subsided and you no longer felt it, more like you no longer couldn’t feel anything.

Miguel pulls away from your neck and looks at you with adoration, he licks your blood from the corner of your mouth.

“You look so pretty like this.” Miguel murmurs, “Mi reina.”

What the hell is going on?!

“Don’t worry, the effects aren’t harmful. But I’ll be quick, just like you asked.” Miguel spreads your legs, and you can see him holding his cock in his hands.

You could only assume that now he pushes in because he lets out a grunt. Miguel keeps your head still, grabbing your face so his eyes remain on him.

A sick smile is on his face, “Todo para mí.” (All for me.)

You wanted to kick him off you. You wanted to scream, cry, scrub his touch off your body.

“I’ll take care of you, you won’t need to worry about anything anymore.”

You could only watch as he continues to thrust inside out you, watch how he throws his head back in pleasure, “Eres mía y solo mía.” (You’re mine and only mine.)

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copy, translated, or put my work on any other platform without my permission.

[anti-romantico]

[getaway car] enhypen jake

warnings: riding, oral (m&f), facefuck, deepthroat, cum swallowing, overstimulation, protected sex (as y'all should!)

words: 1342 (wth happened to the color yellow?)

A/N: first thing first, yes, this is inspired by the taylor swift song "getaway car", my friend went to the eras tour in Edinburgh and got it as a surprise song, she hasn't stopped talking about it since then, so naturally I listened to the song and immediately got obsessed with it, and I'm saying it as someone who only likes a few TS songs. This same friend helped me with the redaction of this fic since we all know how much I like to use the same five adjectives in all my fics lmao

anyways, hope y'all enjoy this as much as I did, it might be one of my favorite fics I've ever written.

remember, don't like it don't read it, that's why the warnings are before the cut

You knew this was wrong. You ended a 3 year relationship just last month. But this guy’s lips on your neck felt like heaven. The sudden bites and sucks he was giving sent shivers all over your body. You weren’t a fan of marks, but you let him have his way. It was like you needed him to.

— Do you want to take this somewhere private? — How did he manage to whisper if the music was really loud?

You smirked. Yes. You wanted him.

— Let me tell my friend I’m leaving. Be right back. — You gave him a kiss on his cheek and rushed to your friend’s table. She was also busy. — Ney! I’m sorry! — You had to push his date to make them stop. 

— Already got bored of him? — She asked, drinking her glass, realizing it was only melted ice. Your relationship with Heeseung wasn’t of her liking, so the moment your impulsive thought won and told her you wanted to club, she dragged you to the mall and bought you the navy blue dress you were wearing. 

— Quite the opposite. I’m leaving! — Ney was surprised, she thought it was going to be just a little make out. 

— Do you have your location on?

You grabbed your phone from the table and showed her. — Always! I’ll call you, have fun!

Once you two were out, you took a deep breath. You didn’t drink much, but it was enough to feel dizzy.

— Are you ok? — He asked, rubbing his hand on your back.

— Just the change of air. — You smiled. He murmured something and took off his jacket, placing it over your shoulder. 

He opened the door of his truck for you and even helped you with the seatbelt. Taking advantage of the closeness to grab you by your face and kiss you. — Sorry, I had to do it. Couldn’t resist anymore.

— Don’t apologize. — This time you kissed him, playing with his tongue.

Against his own head, he pulled away and ran to the driver seat.

— Is it ok if we go to a hotel? Pretty sure my roommate has someone over. — He took his phone out of his jeans and looked at you. You shook your head and started at him driving and finding a hotel.

You just heard him say “Perfect” before looking at you. 

— I’m Jake, by the way. — You chuckled and told him your name, not being able to resist your urges and grabbed his free hand and played with his fingers. — It’s the first time a girl does that.

—You have pretty hands, even prettier than mine. — You compared the back of his hand with yours before continuing to rub his skin. 

Jake would pull his hand away from time to time, but immediately would grab your hand after.

A little darkness covered the car. You made it to the hotel. After being helped by Jake to get out, you walked hand in hand to the reception as the ballet parking left with Jake’s car.

— Good evening. Room for Jake Sim. — You bit your lower lip at his voice tone. The receptionist smiled and gave him two cards. 

The room was nice. More than that. How did he book a room like this with so little anticipation?

— You like it? — Jake was behind you, just like you two were at the club. — I have to order condoms, though, wasn’t planning to have sex tonight.

You laughed and nodded. — I’ll use the bathroom while you do that.

You took a deep breath once you locked the door behind you. Were you really going to do this? Yes, definitely. You still could feel his hands burning on your skin. 

When you got out of the bathroom, he was sitting on the couch, typing on his phone. He turned his face toward you when you closed the door.

— Hey, I know why are we here, but are you hungry? I can call room service. — Jake asked, following you with his eyes. As soon as you were in front of him, you straddled him.

Jake left his phone to the side and placed his hands on your waist. After looking at each other’s eyes, you finally lowered your face and kissed him, grabbing his hands and lowering them to your butt. 

He had to take a very deep breath when he felt the edge of your dress in the palm of his hands. Would it be too fast if he lifted it a little so he could feel you? 

But it was like you read his mind. As the kiss deepened, you started to move your hips over his, causing your dress to lift up, and with Jake’s help, you were grinding on his boner. 

— Let's take this to the bed, love, we'll be more comfortable. — Jake's strength made you clench. He carried you with one arm like it was nothing and took you to the bedroom. 

The bed was so soft, you loved the idea of about to be fucked in a bed as soft as this one.

Jake held your legs spread and pulled your thong down, letting it fall to the ground.

You held yourself up with your elbows as you saw him get on his knees and kiss your inner thighs. He was teasing you, going from one leg to the other, ignoring your wet pussy. 

You weren't going to protest though, you liked it. But the loud moan you let out when he gave a hard suck on your clit wouldn't have been prevented. Not even if you tried. 

His tongue was skilled, feeling jealous of all the girls that have experienced it before you.

There were times you tried to keep eye contact with him, but due to the pleasure he was giving you, it was impossible to not close your eyes and throw your head back. 

Jake started to lick your pussy with a fervor that you had never experienced before. His tongue moved in circles around your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You moaned softly, fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer to your cunt.

As he continued to lick and suck on your clit, you felt your orgasm building. Your breath came in short gasps, and you arched your back, pressing yourself harder against his mouth. Suddenly, the pleasure became too much to bear, and you cried out as your orgasm washed over you.

He continued to lick you gently, drawing out your orgasm until you were left panting and breathless. 

You bit your lip, feeling a surge of desire course through you. — Can I suck your cock?

Jake's eyes widened with surprise, but he didn't hesitate. He nodded, his breath coming in short gasps. Jake stood up and opened his jeans, letting you pull them down with his boxers.

You reached the base of Jake's cock, your fingers gently caressing the sensitive skin. You felt his cock twitching in anticipation, and you knew that he was just as eager as you were. 

You wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock, grip was firm but gentle.

You looked up at Jake, eyes meeting him. He was watching you with a look of pure desire, his eyes dark with need. 

Jake groaned, his body tensing as you began to stroke his cock. 

You lowered your head, your lips parting as you took the head of Jake's cock into your mouth. 

You tasted his salty precum, and you moaned softly as you swirl your tongue around the sensitive head.

Jake groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided your head down further. You took him deeper into your mouth, your lips sliding down his shaft as you began to suck him off. You could feel his cock swelling in your mouth, growing harder and thicker.

Jake's grip on your hair tightened as he thrust his hips upward, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. 

You moaned around his shaft, your fingers digging into his thighs as you tried to steady yourself. You could feel his cock twitching, growing even harder.

You could hear Jake's breath coming in short gasps, his body tensing with every stroke of your tongue. You knew that he was close to his release, and you wanted to make him feel as good as he had made you feel. 

Jake's body began to shudder, his cock throbbing in your mouth as he neared his release.

You felt his precum dripping down your throat, and you swallowed eagerly, wanting to taste every drop of him. His fingers tightened in your hair, pulling you closer as he thrust his hips upward, his cock hitting the back of your throat.

You gagged slightly, but Jake didn't let up, his desire taking over as he fucked your mouth with recklessly. You could feel your own arousal building again, pussy throbbing with need.

— I'm gonna cum in your mouth again, love, but this time don't swallow it. Keep it in your mouth. — Jake said as he kept thrusting his cock into your mouth. You could feel his cock swelling even more as he spoke.

You nodded, your eyes locked on his, and you felt a thrill of excitement.

You felt his cock throbbing, the veins bulging as he chased his second release.

Suddenly, Jake's body tensed, his fingers tightening in your hair as he thrust his hips upward one last time. You felt his hot cum shooting into your mouth, filling it.

And you did as he told you; you kept his cum in your mouth, letting his cock go carefully to not drop anything.

Jake lifted your face with his thumb. — Open. — You opened your mouth and showed him the white liquid in your mouth. — You look so hot like this, love, but I want to see you swallow it, you didn't let me the first time. 

Not even a second after you swallowed his cum, Jake lowered himself and kissed you, tasting himself in your tongue.

You felt dizzy after he pulled himself away, and you got confused when you heard him grab the condoms from the drawer.

— You took your sweet time in the bathroom. — He explained, taking off his jacket and shirt.

When he was kicking his jeans off, he stopped you from removing your dress. 

— I really want to see your body, but you look too hot in that dress to not take advantage of that. — You loved honesty, and even boosted your ego. 

Jake laid down in the bed and handed you the condoms.

You took out one of the condoms and rolled it down Jake's cock, feeling his thickness through the thin latex. You stroked him a few times, your hand gliding up and down his shaft as you felt him grow even harder. 

You positioned yourself over him, your legs straddling his hips as you lowered your body onto his.

You felt him enter you, his cock stretching you open as he filled you up. You gasped, your body shuddering with pleasure as you took him in.

You began to move, your hips rocking back and forth.

Jake's hands gripped your hips tightly as you rode him, his fingers digging into your skin as he guided your movements. You felt his cock throbbing inside you, his shaft rubbing against your sensitive walls as you moved up and down.

You leaned forward, your hands braced on his chest as you kissed him deeply. Your tongues danced together, breaths mingling as you lost yourselves in the moment. Jake's cock was twitching inside you, his desire building as you continued.

You broke the kiss, your breath coming in short gasps as you looked down at him. 

Jake's hands moved to your breasts, his fingers teasing your nipples over your dress.

Your orgasm started to build up, your body tensing as you threw your head back, your hair cascading down as you let out a low moan.

— I'm gonna cum. — You gasped, your voice barely audible as you felt my orgasm wash over you. Your body shook and pussy clenched around Jake's cock as you came. 

As you rode your orgasm, Jake's hands tightened around your breasts, he watched you come undone.

His cock still throbbing inside you, your pussy clenching around him as you milked every last drop of pleasure from your release. 

You slowly opened your eyes, your gaze locking onto Jake's. His eyes were burning with desire, his pupils dilated as he gazed up at you. There was tension in his body, his muscles coiled and ready to spring into action. 

Without warning, Jake's hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging as he pushed you down onto the bed. 

You gasped, your body shivering with pleasure as he positioned himself over you. You could feel his cock pressing against your entrance, his thickness filling you up as he thrust into you.

You cried out, your body arching off the bed as Jake rammed into you. He didn't give you a chance to recover from your orgasm, his desire taking over as he fucked you hard and fast. Even making the bed squeak under you two.

Jake's cock pulsed inside you, his thrusts growing more frantic as he chased his own release. 

His sweaty chest pressing against yours, his hot breath whispering in your ear as he whispered dirty nothings. Your body responded eagerly, your pussy clenching around his cock as you felt another orgasm building.

You wrapped my legs around his waist, your heels digging into his back as you pulled him deeper into you. Jake groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as he felt you tighten around him.

As Jake's body tensed, his cock throbbing inside you.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck. You held him close, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair as you felt his release building.

Suddenly, Jake's body tensed, his cock pulsing inside you as he came. You could feel his cum filling the condom, his shaft throbbing as he emptied himself into the condom.  

As Jake's hips slowed, his thrusts becoming gentle as he rode out his orgasm, you felt his body relaxing, his weight pressing down on you.

His face was still buried in the crook of your neck, his hot breath tingling against your skin as he panted, trying to catch his breath. 

Slowly, Jake pulled out, causing the both of you to sigh. He laid down beside you for a few seconds before he removed the condoms and went to the bathroom.

You practically kicked out the dress of your body as you felt hot and sticky.

Jake got out of the bathroom and sat down on the side of the bed you were in. — Do you want to take a bath? I'll order something to eat so the bathroom is all yours.

And even though in the back of your head you knew it wasn't a good idea, you nodded.

Jake smiled softly and kissed you. But not a kiss that tells you he wanted to keep fucking. It was just a sweet kiss. 

After getting out of the bathroom, you were wearing one of the bathrobes you found hanged. The bed had two silver plates with pizza and french fries, but your clothes were nowhere to be seen.

— Jake? — You tried to not panic as you walked out of the room and found Jake receiving two paper bags from a hotel staff.

— Your clothes will be here in the morning, sir. — The guy said to Jake. — Is there anything else I can do? 

— Not for the moment. Thanks. — The guy left after receiving a tip from Jake.

— I sent your dress to the dry cleaners, but I got you clean clothes in case you don't want to leave wearing a dress. — Jake handed you one of the paper bags, which you received hesitantly.

— Isn't it too much? — You asked him, afraid to offend him and his kindness.

— I just thought you preferred… your dress was wrinkled. Fuck… Am I being invasive? 

— No! Not at all. It's just that you paid for the hotel, the food and now clothes.  This isn't something I would've expected for… this. — It seemed like none of you pictured the same. 

— What is this? For you, I mean. — Jake walked towards you, leaving his paper bag on the couch in the way. God, he still had some sort of scent that drove you crazy. 

But you couldn't answer, looking at the whole picture, it was obvious he didn't have the same idea as you after meeting at a club.

— How about we eat something? I'm starting to feel dizzy. — You grabbed his hand and pulled him to the room.

The food was already cold, but both of you were too lazy to go to the kitchen and warm the food.

After eating, you were planning on leaving, no matter if it was late, but you were too tired after everything.

And if it wasn't because of your bladder you would've continued sleeping, but you had to run to the bathroom, finding your phone on the floor. 

You checked the time. 8:32 in the morning. 

When you walked in the room, Jake was sleeping so tight it made you feel like shit for grabbing the paper bag he gave you last night. You locked yourself in the bathroom and dressed up quickly.

After getting out of the bathroom again, you grabbed your heels and rushed out of the room, until you found Jake's phone on the couch right beside his paper bag. 

You weren't going to leave him your number, but you didn't want to lose contact, but you weren't ready for whatever he was low-key offering you. 

And just like any other hotel, there was a small notebook and a pen on the table. It was your only way to say goodbye without making it difficult… for you.

“You gave me a night I'll never forget, but sadly it happened when I'm not in the correct state of mind. Don't think I'm not thankful for everything you've done for me, but think about the place where you first met me.

I hope we can meet again, I promise I'll make up for it”. 

You rushed out of the hotel room, walking confidently to the elevator. You even smiled at the receptionist when you were making your way out of the hotel and hopped in one of the taxis.

When Jake woke up he didn't want to think anything bad when you weren't on his side. Or when he saw the pajama you wore and the paper bag in the bathroom. But then he found the note. 

He swore he could hear your voice redacting it. It stinged as he read it over and over and over and over again.

[rrxnjun]

dancing in my backseat ✲ l. donghyuck

pairing. film student! donghyuck x film student! fem! reader starring. uchinaga aeri genre. college au, acquaintances to lovers. fluff, comedy, suggestive warnings. mentions of alcohol and weed, swearing, sexual innuendos word count. 24k (24.047) a/n. please dont hate me for the fact that this does not have any expected smut in it i tried and it felt too awkward i just COULDN'T. also this fic doesn't fit the image of it i had in my head at all but i actually kind of prefer this version over the prev idea i had anyway <;3

playlist. marvelous - wallows / crash my car - coin / test drive - ariana grande / streets - doja cat / no manners - superm / feather - sabrina carpenter / AEAO - dynamicduo / wet tongue - thomas headon / car crash - eaj / delicious - the boyz / but i like you - boynextdoor

there are only a few things in which men value their social status; one of them being the number of girls in their bed, the next one their rank in league of legends, and lastly, their cars— or— where you would never fuck a guy without a driver's licence.

✲ PART 3 OF THE SIMPLIFY ROMANCE SERIES ✲

If anyone asked you about your relationship with Lee Donghyuck, you’d scoff at them and simply state that the resident gemini was your moral enemy. Was that true? No. No, of course it wasn’t– there was nothing this man has done in his life to get on your bad side, and you truly don’t feel any hatred towards him, but at the end of the day, it’s always easier to say this than to explain the exact feelings you have towards the male without sounding at least a bit overly-dramatic.

See, you don’t hate Lee Donghyuck; you don’t think he’s your enemy either– you just find him absolutely, excruciatingly annoying.

And it’s not his personality, no– although you do admit that the way he carries himself and has such high mind about himself is quite alarming– the way your toes curl and the hair on your body stands up, all alert in sheer ick and disgust, has nothing to do with his ego and everything to do with your experience with the man. 

The first time you find Lee Donghyuck intensely annoying is when you get a text one day (having acquired his phone number from one of the class group chats, since the two of you major in the same program), at 9 in the morning, approximately 15 minutes before you have to leave your apartment to get to your fist class of the day. The man picked the wrong time to bother you, since it was Monday, of all days– the beginning of the week always manages to rile you up just because it exists in the first place– and you could give him the benefit of the doubt and say that it wasn’t his fault at all and you woke up grumpy already, but the events that happened after made you so deeply disturbed and annoyed to your core that there truly wasn��t any other word left in your vocabulary to describe Lee Donghyuck than the adjective already mentioned – annoying.

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – hi im in a crisis lee donghyuck (film theory class) – can u pls throw some toilet paper lee donghyuck (film theory class) – we ran out and my roommate already left for class lee donghyuck (film theory class) – pleaaaaase

Staring at the texts appearing on your phone screen in a hurry, you stop in your tracks and furrow your brows at the contact name in confusion. The truth is, you haven’t spoken to Lee Donghyuck that many times– you just know that he’s friends with your friend Lee Yangyang from high school and you two meet occasionally at the said friend’s gatherings. Plus, you had a discussion or two about the beauty of Quentin Tarantino movies when you met at orientation in freshman year, and that's also when you learned that he’s your neighbor; in fact, the window to his flat's bathroom and his very own bedroom face yours. But that’s about as far as it goes when it comes to your closeness. You’re not familiar enough with him to text each other or to think of each other in a time of need, so to have his first texts to you be about him being out of toilet paper is a thing to really dwell on to fully understand the extent of the bad impression this man had on you.

you – what the fuck

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – just open the window and throw me some lee donghyuck (film theory class) – i am good at catching

you – im in a hurry rn. gotta get to class

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – SO DO I why else do u think id be up this early lee donghyuck (film theory class) – so PLEASE throw me the damn toilet paper so im not late today

Shaking your head in disbelief at the conversation you’re currently having, too confused and tired to deal with it so early in the morning, you walk up to your room and look out of the window. Right opposite of you, not being further than 10 meters, if you’re being absolutely exact, is Lee Donghyuck’s head popping out from the bottom rim of his bathroom window, seemingly still sitting on the toilet. The look in his eyes is desperate as he clasps his hands together and mouths “Please!” at you, his face forming into a truly humiliating scowl that makes you wonder if he's truly done with what he'd been doing on the toilet only a few minutes prior. 

Sighing, you turn on your feet and escape your room– not noticing the absolutely disturbed and mortified face Donghyuck’s pulling behind your back, thinking you abandoned him and took off for class– and you truly can’t believe yourself when you walk into your own bathroom and take the half-used roll of toilet paper off the stand, murmuring a silent “Fucking hell” under your nose as you walk back to your bedroom and open up your window wide. Donghyuck’s eyes light up now, as if he was a kid under a Christmas tree about to receive a gift from Santa.

“If it falls to the street, I’m not getting it!” you yell after the boy, seeing as he eagerly nods and ushers you with a wave of his hands.

“Just throw it and I’ll be sure to catch it!” he nods, waiting for you to start your career in the new twist on baseball– a sport you’d call a toilet roll throw against the street. His eyes seem focused, knowing this is his only opportunity at wiping his ass this morning (why neither of you thought of suggesting to use the shower instead, you don't know to this day– perhaps it was too early in the morning for such complex strategies), when you surprisingly do your best at aiming for his window– thank god you both live on the same floor– and throw the roll across the alleyway, the paper unwinding only slightly before it lands on the floor of Lee Donghyuck’s pearl white bathroom.

“Thank you so much, you are my savior!” he yells, his head disappearing from the window, leaving you alone in your room to watch the commotion. When nothing happens for a while, you only shake your head in disbelief once again, deciding your job here is over and you can finally take off for your dreaded lecture.

“I’ll get going!” you scream into the void, scratching the back of your neck, aimlessly. 

“Mhm! See you later!” 

Nodding to yourself, you sigh, closing the window and doing a double take as you’re about to leave your flat for class, hopefully still on time. In disbelief, feeling the second-hand embarrassment seeping to your bones, you put on your shoes at the entrance and swear to yourself that you’re never gonna answer any of Lee Donghyuck’s texts ever again.

The previous scene already established that you’re no stranger to second hand embarrassment. I’m sure all of you have experienced it before– seeing someone desperately flirt with your friend, knowing that they’re not interested… Watching a drama and being absolutely grossed out with the script, wondering how the actors got convinced to take on the role… Hearing someone say an absurd answer in class… There are many, for sure, and the list could just keep going. You saw it with your own eyes as well, when your friend Choi Beomgyu tried hard to impress a girl at the skate park and managed to fall off his skateboard mid-trick, tearing his jeans in the crotch area in the process. Or when your roommate Aeri got tipsy at the club and who she thought was a very fine gentleman to flirt with was actually her ex boyfriend. The list goes on and on.

What about first hand embarrassment, though? You’re sure you experienced it before as well, but if anyone asked you, you’d tell them you don’t remember any embarrassing stories. If it’s because you just don’t want anyone knowing about the shame in your bones or if you really hated those experiences so much you chose to bury them and extract them out of your memory, you won’t tell. You just won’t let the shame haunt you for any longer than it has to, that’s for sure. 

So when you walk home from the hairdresser one afternoon and you’re met with your roommate Aeri looking at you with lips pressed together, yet the corners tugging upwards in what you assume (and fully know) is her trying to hold back an amused laugh, you admit that your suspicions were indeed correct when you saw yourself in the mirror at the salon and you’re going to have to live through another embarrassing moment. One that will take days and weeks to outlive as well, since your hair doesn’t grow back overnight– and when you look into the mirror again, you’re terrified.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing, it’s just… you look… well, you know, it’s just…” she mumbles, before she finally breaks into a loud laugh, standing behind you and examining the state of your hair in the mirror of your entrance hall with you, hands coming up to play with your strands and hold them up and down, brushing your bangs out of your face and ruffling the top– trying everything possible to find a single good hairdo with the haircut you have going on right now. “Oh babygirl… what did the do to your beautiful hair…” she mourns, the tone of her voice still amused, but now also kind of considerate.

“I told her I only wanted a trim,” you say, voice weak in what you realize is you holding back your tears and suppressing a mental breakdown, “how the fuck am I supposed to show my face to the world tomorrow?” 

Your roommate sighs at you, spinning you around so you no longer can see the disaster on your head, a pout forming on her face as she lightly shoves you deeper into the apartment. “At a second glance, it’s really not that bad, you know–”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” you cut her off, annoyed at her soft eyes.

“I don’t?” she looks at you, shocked irises hardening when she realizes you no longer need her sympathetic words. “Okay, thank god. Man, she fucked you uuup, leave a bad review like, right now. I’d cry myself to sleep if I got a haircut like that–”

“I take it back, I liked your lies better,” you roll your eyes at her, walking over to the kitchen to fix yourself a glass of water to calm down your racing heart. The mental breakdown is still right around the corner and you realize you have to do everything in your power to stop it, because you already have a fucked up haircut– you can’t afford to show up to class tomorrow with puffy eyes and stress-induced pimples as well. Gulping down the cold liquid, you decide to hop into the shower (and avoid looking in the mirror at all costs, which is kind of difficult, since there's three of them just on your way to the bathroom). 

Meeting the encouraging eyes of your roommate once you come out of the shower, hair tied up in a towel so you don't have to think about it any longer, Aeri's words reach your ears in the living room. “Come on, I’m sure we can manage to do something with this tomorrow morning,” she smiles, “at least you have a pretty face. You can pull off everything!”

And the truth is, even though Aeri is nice, she’s not always right. You’re met with the fact the next morning as you watch your reflection in the mirror before you both leave for your shared Film theory class, standing next to each other defeated; one breathtakingly beautiful and one looking like the main character from Chicken little. You'd be fine with it if it was only you who was aware of your disastrous image, you would be able to deal with the shame and insecurity silently– but that's not what happens as you’re only reminded by the fact that other people, sadly, do perceive you, against your biggest wishes, throughout the whole day.

You’re reminded by the fact that your haircut is fucked up when Ji Changmin, the guy you share an Animation class with, sees you in the corridor and does the yikes face at you and his friend Sunwoo hides his face from you as they turn the corner. You’re reminded by the fact again when you see Jisu, the ever-so-sweet girl that majors in Finance, the girl that’s friends with everyone in this school, look at you with a considerate look, patting your shoulder when she passes you by before you enter your Film theory classroom. 

And most importantly, you’re reminded by the fact when you finally sit down– at the very back of the classroom, which is both valid and understandable, considering your current state– and you’re met with a thud of a backpack to your left, a figure sitting down on the usually vacant spot. Clenching your jaw and looking up to see its owner, mentally preparing yourself for the teasing that’s about to come, you meet eyes with a tall, sleek man, shirt tucked into his black jeans and a sigh of relief escaping his throat as he sits down on the uncomfortable chair. Lee Donghyuck waves at you in greeting when he notices you there, running his hand through his neatly styled hair.

“Hi there,” he breathes out, “can’t believe I made it on time. My alarm didn’t go off and my roommate couldn’t be arsed to wake me, even though our morning lectures start at the same time, so I had to run and my usual seat is taken already… hope you don’t mind me sitting here– woah.”

And here it is again– the feeling of absolute humiliation as the man scans you up and down, eyes bearing into yours with an unreadable look on his face. Is this how he felt when he texted you to throw toilet paper through his bathroom window? Or was he immune to the shame? 

“Did you get a new haircut?” he asks, squinting his eyes at you in question.

“Shut the fuck up,” you sigh, already annoyed with his antics– because frankly, you know what will come next. 

“That’s an interesting answer to a yes or no question,” he muses, chuckling to himself, “I’ll take it as a yes, though, but it seems like you’re not satisfied with the new look…”

“Woah. You should work with the FBI or something,” you mumble, averting your gaze from him and looking straight in front of you, praying for the class to start fast so you don’t have to interact with your neighbor any longer and listen to him make fun of you for your new look.

“Why? It doesn’t look bad at all,” he says, the tone of his voice fakely considerate, making you want to punch him in the gut, “It’s interesting. I like it. It shows off your eyes and your forehead more, since your bangs are way shorter now,” he says, putting emphasis on the fact that your bangs truly are half their original length– which wasn't your original plan at all– only riling you up more.

“Only thing left to add is that I have a massive forehead, isn’t it?” you ironically smile at him, and the male takes your word for it as his eyes focus on the exposed part of your skin, furrowed eyebrows and all, as he examines your features.

“Not massive, but it’s a little… like, I wouldn’t say–”

“Just don’t say anything, okay?” you sigh, cutting him off and folding your arms at your chest in a poor attempt at defending yourself.

“Geez, why are you so snappy? I was complimenting you, y'know,” he says, and if you were more stupid, you’d even believe him– the tone of his voice still sounds genuine, but that’s just the way your neighbor likes to deceive people, and you know that; you’ve seen it happen multiple times before. “It adds character.”

The comment makes you roll your eyes, all words taken off your tongue– you simply think there’s no use defending your atrocious haircut now (not that you tried defending it before, even you aren't that oblivious). Your gaze is focused anywhere but at your seatmate, counting down the minutes until the class starts and you're taken out of your misery for at least an hour and a half. Your Film theory professor is almost never late and now is the only day you’re content and happy about the fact, because it means you won’t have to listen to Lee Donghyuck for more than approximately 2 more minutes until the small, hunched over frame of your professor strides through the door. 

Still, you feel his burning gaze to the side of your face, and despite your best intentions, you snap your head towards him and bite at the annoying gemini.

“Take a picture, it will last longer,” you spit, scoffing at the male.

“Can I really?” he asks, and before you have a chance to disagree, his phone is shoved into your point of view and the shutter comes off, making you lounge after the man in a poor attempt at taking his phone away and deleting the first picture of your new hair ever taken. (Well, except for the one you took crying last night, with a peace sign and your tongue darted to the side against your mirror. You don’t need any more traces of your current haircut than that one.)

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – hi neigbor whatchu doin lee donghyuck (film theory class) – u have a car right

Squinting at the next text conversation with Lee Donghyuck, the first one since he asked you for toilet paper 3 weeks ago, you feel nothing more than pure confusion at the strange questions the man asks you in the middle of the night. It’s Friday evening and your roommate went out with a guy named Eric she met four weeks ago in the gym, and even though you were slightly concerned when she texted you to say she was staying over at his house for the first time, you only showed her support as you went to lay down with no other plans for your evening. Falling asleep to your midnight playlist playing in the background (thanking God for the smart feature that makes the music shut off after 30 minutes), it's completely understandable and predictable that the noise of an incoming text annoys you when you hear it only a few minutes after 2 in the morning. The fact that it’s your neighbor texting you, out of all people, only makes the fury in you bigger as you click your tongue and shoot him a quick text back.

you – what do u want

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – neighbor!!!!! lee donghyuck (film theory class) – you do have a car 

Staring at the text that just appeared on your screen, you sigh and decide to spill the truth, preparing for whatever request that’s about to come after you admit to the fact that you do, indeed, have a perfectly functioning vehicle parked behind the building.

you – yes 

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – perfect lee donghyuck (film theory class) – do u hav sm time on ur hands

you – im sleeping

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – veryfunny youre replying rn tho lee donghyuck (film theory class) – come on itsa simple request

Breaking your back just to decipher the words through the amount of typos Lee Donghyuck’s making, your annoyance only grows bigger. Has he always been a bad texter? You don’t remember him struggling as much when he was sitting on the toilet three weeks ago– his texts were absolutely clear and with 0 mistakes back then. Maybe he was in a more desperate situation back then, after all…

you – what do u want hyuck its late

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – can u drive me home

And here it goes– in the back of your mind, you somehow knew it was coming. There were only a few reasons why someone would ask if you owned a car, and judging by the fact that it was now 2 in the morning on a Friday night, your neighbor wasn’t trying to sell you a new vehicle just in case you didn't have one yourself. Getting a drive home would be the only logical request from someone asking if you owned a car– it would only be more logical if the person asking you was your friend, and not an acquaintance at best.

Staring at the screen of your phone, counting down from 10 to not snap at the ridiculous request, you watch as the device lights up with an incoming call. You don’t even have to look at the caller ID to know who’s calling, and despite your best assumptions, you pick up with no more thought given, waiting for the person on the other side of the line to speak first.

“Y/N,” he says, voice breathless. 

“Lee Donghyuck.”

“Can you please drive me home?” he asks, tone of voice lazy and tired, something about the dragging of his words hinting you that there’s more to the request than you’re grasping right now.

“Are you drunk?” you ask, right off the bat, to clear out any confusion. 

There’s a short silence on the other side of the line, one that hints that you’re completely right in your assumptions, but you still want to hear it from the guilty man himself. “Maybe a little,” he admits, snickering, “I was over at Yangyang’s and then he kicked me out and I… my legs hurt too much to walk home.”

Sighing loudly at the man’s antics, you shake your head in disbelief and clear your throat. “I don’t see how that’s my problem?”

“Oh, come oonnn,” he drags out, “it’s not that far.”

“Yeah, so I don’t see how you can’t walk back, then?” you mutter, rolling your eyes at the demanding tone in your neighbor’s voice. If it was anyone else, maybe, just maybe, you’d be on your way already. You never decline your friend’s requests for favors, since you know they’d do the same if you asked, but you don’t really see how Lee Donghyuck, a man you’re not even close to in the first place, could repay the favor. What on Earth was he thinking in the first place when he called you? Were you his last option? Is he out of his mind?

“Because my legs hurt, if you were paying attention, you’d know that I told you before–”

“I don’t really care,” you mutter, “this is not my problem, I’m ending the call now, goodbye!”

“Y/N!”

The tone of his voice is desperate. Laced in agony, even. Still, you don’t care as you cut off the line and close your laptop that's been your source of music during the late night, settling deeper into your sheets. This is not your circus, not your monkeys, and frankly, you don’t really care what happens to Lee Donghyuck on his way home from Yangyang’s house, no matter how drunk or high he is right now. The man has done nothing but annoy you in your short, 23 year old life, and you’re not going to change out of your pajamas just to drive a few miles to get your dumb neighbor back home.

You’re not going to lose your beauty sleep for this. No, not at all.

Still, your eyes only close when you see the light in Lee Donghyuck’s room go on and the shadow of his slouched figure safely hits his bedsheets, another smaller frame coming to close his door and shut the blinds off, turning the light back off. 

The next Monday, you find yourself sitting in your Film theory class alongside your roommate Aeri that’s currently snoozing in the middle of the lecture. You can’t really blame her, since she only got home from her romantic retreat (read as: hanging out at Eric Sohn’s house the whole weekend and having sex possibly on every surface of his little flat downtown) on Sunday evening, and you can only imagine that she didn’t have much sleep during her stay there. 

And the class was boring, to add another reason for your roommate's nap. It’s not like you weren’t interested in the theory behind every movie, like the topic itself wasn’t interesting– you quite enjoyed wondering about all the special details in each movie that complete the story and make the atmosphere pop just in the right way– but the professor currently standing at the very bottom of the auditorium is old enough to be there when the Lumiére brothers showed the first ever movie to the public back in the 19th century, and his age only matches with the monotonous style of his teaching. Which means that his voice is mellow, but close enough to a lullaby, and with the amount of issues you have when paying attention in general, the lack of focus caused by this only feeds your distraction during the lectures, resulting in you not really being the top of the class in this specific subject.

So when you hear the professor mutter something under his nose about a project in pairs you’ll have to submit until the end of the semester, you feel your heart drop down to your stomach, all alert. Suddenly, you’re 100% present, brain racking about all the possible solutions and ways you could go around this just so you could pass the subject this year. 

Because frankly speaking, at the moment, you’re failing the class. And if you don’t manage to get a good grade on this final project, you’re going to have to retake the class next year– and trust me, another year listening to the monotonous lectures won’t make you pass easier, since you can only imagine the boredom will only grow once you’re in this class the second year in a row and you'd already heard all of the lectures once before.

“What was that?” Aeri mumbles under her nose when she notices you staring at the front of the classroom with wide eyes, an expression close to one you'd wear after seeing a ghost (with the age of your professor, you might as well have). She often tells you you look like a deer in the headlights when you get shocked or stressed-out, and you can’t say that comment doesn’t make you insecure. Still, you can’t quite control it when you sigh and turn to your roommate with a distressed look on your face.

“We have a final assignment to do,” you mumble, “in pairs.”

“Amazing, we’re doing it together, then,” she yawns, stretching a little before slumping over the desk again, ready for round two of her nap. 

“Fuck no,” you quickly dart, looking at her with furrowed brows.

“What do you mean, no?” 

Sighing, watching as she opens her eyes and looks at you with an offended expression on her face, you shake your head in disapproval and lower your voice, careful to explain yourself. “Look, girl, I love you, you know that,” you assure, “but we are both failing this fucking class. And I can’t afford to do badly just because the both of us suck, because I am not retaking this atrocious class ever again, so I suggest that the both of us find someone with good grades to leech from and get this over with.”

Aeri squints at you, seemingly lost in thought– more so contemplating your master plan– before she leans back in her chair and cautiously looks around the room. “You have a point there.”

“See? It’s nothing personal,” you chuckle, seeing as your roommate nods to herself.

“Okay, I’ll flutter my eyelashes at Shotaro,” she turns to you, eyes bright with the newly made plan, “we’re both Japanese, so he’s not legally allowed to turn me down.”

Rolling your eyes at her comment, you only nod in approval to her idea. Shotaro was one of the best in this class, so you can imagine that working with him would satisfy your professor enough to let Aeri pass the class this year. The only thing left to do was find the culprit to your own plan– you needed to team up with someone good enough to at least make you get a D on your final. And since half of the class was just as good as you in this particular subject, there weren’t many candidates left.

Eyes scanning the crowd (thank god you chose to sit in the back again), your gaze lands on a particular man sitting a few rows under you, a little bit to your right. Helplessly searching through the flood of your classmates currently occupying the auditorium, you sigh to yourself in realization, already dreading what’s about to come when the class is dismissed and you hurriedly walk over to the only person that can help you now, before he escapes the university grounds and you’re going to have to shamefully text him or ring his doorbell this afternoon.

“Donghyuck! Wait!” you yell after him, legs taking you closer to the man in question, now standing still in the middle of the moving crowd, watching you in curiosity.

“What’s up, neighbor?” he asks with a lazy smile, the tug at his lips only making your blood boil and your insides tighten into a bundle of nerves. Everything about him was ticking you off, the slouch in his shoulders making you want to stand behind him and fix his bad posture and slap the back of his head so you no longer have to look at him standing like a hermit crab, the glint in his eyes making you want to curl your fingers into a fist and slam your hand against a wall. The seemingly strong emotions of annoyance run through your veins whenever you interact with Lee Donghyuck, it seems, but the senile voice of your professor keeps repeating itself somewhere in the back of your head throughout the whole interaction, and so you choose to take a deep breath in and out before you smile at the man and prepare your best speech– you can't afford to be picky with this any longer.

“Who are you doing the project with?” you ask innocently at first, trying to get some info out of him.

He offers you a suspicious look, but replies nonetheless. “I’m not sure yet,” he sighs, “I was thinking of chasing down Haknyeon, but you stopped me in my tracks…” he shakes his head at you, teasing. 

“Hmm, I see,” you mumble, more for the effect than for anything else, “well, what if we do it together?”

There aren’t many instances in which you could catch Lee Donghyuck completely silent. Now is one of them, though, as he watches you with wide, surprised eyes, furrowed brows and his plump lips slightly agape, breathing in a few times before he shakes his head as if to reset the system, snickering to himself. “Us two?”

“Yeah, why not?” you peep, shrugging.

“Look, respectfully,” Donghyuck starts, and you brace yourself for the impact, “your grades in this class aren’t as good as mine, and even though I’d love to do it with you, I don’t wanna be the one doing all the work and–”

“I’ll help!” you snap, maybe too urgently for your own liking. “I promise. I’ll do everything in my power, I just really need your help with this,” you plea, looking at him with what you pray are your best puppy eyes, seeing as the man in front of you chuckles at the expression and averts his gaze from you for a heartbeat, signaling that you were most likely unsuccessful at the attempt.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he shrugs, shaking his head at you, even going as far as taking one step away from you, “see, if you hadn't declined my call on Friday, maybe I’d take this offer as a way to repay the favor, but you know…”

“I threw you toilet paper before, Donghyuck, you can’t be shitting me right now–” you feel your blood boil at the note, the ever so familiar annoyance seeping back into your bones.

“That was nothing–”

“You seemed pretty desperate back then.”

“That was the past, sweetheart,” he chuckles, taking another step away from you, somehow overthrowing your annoyance with pure, embarrassing desperation as you chase after him and stop him with a swift motion of your hand, catching him by his wrist. He stares at you with a shiteating grin on his face, one he always uses to get a reaction from you, and somehow, you know this is all a game for him, a stupid tug of war, but you can’t help it– you are in a desperate situation. So if you need to say please to the man and humiliate yourself in front of him just to pass this class, then so be it.

“Please, Hyuck? Just this once, I swear I’ll make it up to you. Literally, say anything, I’m gonna do it, I just really need to pass this class,” you mumble, a pout forming at your lips as you clasp your hands together– much like he did back when you two communicated through the window of his bathroom– and you swear you can see the gears in his brain turning when he calculates his next move and tells you his answer.

“Anything?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” you nod, hoping that Lee Donghyuck still has some dignity in him and wouldn’t ask for anything that would make you uncomfortable. He’s annoying, sure, but he’s not a dick, after all.

“Okay, then,” he nods, tone of voice airy, underlined with laughter, “be my personal driver for the entirety of the project, then. I’ll do it if you drive me places,” he grins, and that’s when your composure falls.

“Absolutely not.”

“Well then, say goodbye to the grade!”

Putting your arm around the passenger’s seat headrest, twisting your whole body as you look back and reverse the car into the parking spot in front of the mall, you see the figure next to you still in its place, eyes alert and staring at you. “If you’re so terrified of me driving, why did you want me to do this in the first place?” you sigh, finally turning back to the front and turning the engine off once you're standing straight between the lines, satisfied with your job.

“That’s- that’s not it,” he clears his throat and gulps nervously, shaking his head. “Anyways, let’s go,” Donghyuck says, slapping his thighs like parents do when it’s time to leave a family gathering, grinning at you widely as he waits for you to get out of the vehicle.

“What do you mean, let’s go? I drove you here, I can go now,” you glare, not satisfied with the way your Wednesday afternoon was going. You only agreed to the deal on Monday, and Donghyuck already made you drive him home after class twice and also asked you to drive him to the school this morning. Having him constantly leeching around you and making you drive him places wasn’t exactly fun, since he always asked weird questions and made fun of your bored face at every red light, so you really, desperately, needed him to be gone already so you could head home and scream into your pillow to unwind the nerves. 

“Well, how am I supposed to get back when I’m done shopping?” he innocently asks, pouting at you. “My hands are gonna be full with bags and you’re gonna have to come pick me up, because that’s the deal, and I can’t afford to wait with my hands full until you get back here, so you might as well stay and come with me, so it’s convenient.”

“Nothing about this is convenient for me,” you mumble, but comply with his orders nonetheless. “Why don’t you get a car? Or take a bus back?”

“Buses smell and I don’t have a license,” he mutters, “besides, I have you now to be my personal taxi driver, so I don't need a car,” he shrugs, walking alongside you to the mall. 

His confession startles you, makes you halt in your step as the boy looks at you with defeated eyes, already knowing what’s next. This scenario has happened to him multiple times before– he’s best friends with Huang Renjun and Liu Yangyang, he’s in for a teasing at every single action of his that goes just slightly wrong– but to hear it from you will surely feel more humbling to the man. Closing his eyes as if to not see the grin overtaking your features, he sighs. “What?”

“You don’t have a license?” you tease, snickering. “For real?”

“No.”

“Why? You failed the test?” you ask again, catching up to the male and falling in with his quick pace, enjoying the fact that you now have the upper hand on him for once.

“Never really tried getting it in the first place,” he mumbles, shrugging. 

“Why?”

“I dunno,” he shamefully ducks his head, “it seems scary,” he adds, making you snort out at his confession.

“Fucking hell dude,” you laugh out now, swatting his shoulder in a teasing manner, “that’s so embarrassing, it’s not even really that difficult in the first place–”

“I don’t know what’s more embarrassing,” he cuts you off, tone of voice laced with frustration as he realizes you are a bit too amused at him admitting to one of his fears, “is it me not having a license or you driving me around because you're failing a class… Hm?” he asks, locking eyes with you, lips pressed shut into a straight line, and suddenly, your composures exchange. He won. Again.

“Anyways, let’s get going!” he smiles, dismissing the previous discussion as he tugs you by your hand into one of the stores right in the middle of the mall.

You should’ve already predicted that shopping with Lee Donghyuck would be exhausting. Not only did he demand to know your opinion on every single thing he tried on, he also wanted you to pick up something for him to try– as if driving him here wasn’t too much work for you as it was. All you wanted to do was walk back to your car and get away from him as soon as possible, but with the way he teasingly poked your sides every time you weren’t paying attention and turned to your phone to entertain yourself with some mindless scrolling on social media, you weren’t able to escape even mentally, no matter how hard you tried. 

“Why don’t you try something on?” 

“I’m not in the mood,” you glare, walking out of the last store in the whole entire mall, the sky behind the glass doors already dark from how late it’s gotten. You’re pretty sure it’s gonna close soon, but checking the time on your phone, you’re relieved to learn that you still have enough time to get boba from the stand at the entrance of the mall. You deserve a little treat after involuntarily hanging out with Lee Donghyuck the whole day, after all. Call it your girl dinner, or something.

“Taro milk tea with coconut jelly, please,” you smile at the tired barista behind the counter, noticing the way Donghyuck stands next to you and looks at the menu. You expect him to order a drink for himself as well, and surely, he doesn’t disappoint as he smiles at the girl, the tone of his voice sweet and considerate– so far away from the way he speaks to you on a daily basis– as he asks for his own drink.

“Will you pay together or separately?” she asks.

“Separate–”

“Together,” your companion cuts you off, grinning at you when you glare at the man, sighing at his antics.

“Come on, I already drive you everywhere, do you think gas is cheap? Now you want me to pay for your boba as well?” you whine, reaching for your wallet as you frown at the male, his confused eyes bearing into yours when he slightly nudges you from his way, offering the girl behind the counter his card instead. The action shuts you up, making the gears in your brain turn faster as you watch him in the action, and it doesn't fully register yet, but you're left feeling a bit taken aback and sheepish when the cashier hands him the receipt.

“I was gonna buy it for you as a thank you for the nice day, but now you’re making me look like I felt pressured to,” he sighs, shaking his head at your little tantrum. His actions still don’t register in your brain, though, his words resonating all the way through your ears to your Wernicke’s area and right back, hanging everywhere in the air of the mall, shock making your body still. Then, it hits you.

“Ah,” you gasp, feeling the tips of your ears burning with shame at the fact that you managed to ruin his nice gesture, your eyes scanning the space in a poor attempt to not look at him or the cashier still watching your exchange.

“Get your drink and let’s go,” he nudges you instead, rolling his eyes for good measure as he walks out of the mall, nearing your car in the parking lot.

“Look at this, look! Isn’t it funny?” Donghyuck hovers over you with his phone in his hand, giggling to himself as he tries to make you look at the screen. You don’t really know why he’s trying to get a laugh out of you, honestly, but he’s currently doing everything but that as you’re sat in his living room, legs plopped up onto the sofa and crossed in front of you, waiting patiently– but also kind of boiling on the inside out of frustration– for him to pay attention to you.

“Hyuck, I didn’t come here to watch Tiktoks with you,” you say, eyes sharp, tone of your voice cutting like razors– efficiently making him look up from his screen and meet your gaze with an amused grin, “I’m not really sure if you forgot, but I came to discuss the project,” you mutter, sighing.

“Jeez,” you see him roll his eyes, the energy around him still not shifting as he maintains his casual and unfocused composure, but you know that on the inside, he's enjoying the view– your angry face seems to be his most favorite thing to stare at recently, “didn’t know you lack a sense of humor.”

“What?” you look at him, confused, quite frankly, before you shake your head in disbelief at the comment. “You know what, just put the phone away for 5 seconds and finally talk to me about the project, smart boy, or else I’m not wasting my time here any longer and I’m leaving.”

“You’re acting as if you’re the one putting in work,” he mumbles, snickering.

“I will be putting in work when you tell me what to do!”

At your sentence, Donghyuck finally puts his phone back at the coffee table and shifts a little in his seat, facing you and scratching the back of his head, seemingly lost in thought. You let him, convinced that if you speak up and cut off his train of thought, the poor boy wouldn’t be able to get back to it again, waiting for him to be done with his brain weaving so you can pick up on them and ride them out, seeming at least decently smart (or not completely stupid). When he finally speaks up, he licks his lips and shrugs.

“We just gotta pick a theme and do our best portraying it with no words in a 3 minute clip, right?” he asks you in reassurance, as if you were the most reliable source of information when it comes to this class and its assignments.

“Yeah,” still, you agree.

“Well, then we just gotta pick a theme and the rest will be easy,” he nods to himself, reaching back for his phone, which you swiftly take from his hold and hide behind your body. 

“Hey–”

“We’re not done talking about this! I’m not letting you use your phone, because you’re just gonna scroll on Tiktok instead of thinking about this,” you squint at him, twisting and turning in your seat as his hands try to sneak around your sitting figure and take the device out of your grasp. 

He seems determined as his arm lands on your elbow, a victorious grin smoothly swiped off his face when you sit on his phone and flash him a wide grin. “I’ll give it back when we have the theme down!”

“That’s an invasion of my privacy,” Donghyuck mumbles, and you roll your eyes at him, pointing a finger to his shoulder.

“That’s not what an invasion of privacy means, but whatever floats your boat…” you mumble, watching him sit back in his seat, defeated as his shoulders slouch and his gaze is glued to the wall in front of him. You’re not sure what’s so interesting about the white paint, but at least there’s not the noise of his phone filling your ears right now– you’re more than okay with silence, since you don't get to hear it often when Donghyuck is present. You would like it better if he spoke up and talked to you about the assignment, but if you had to choose between him being annoying and him being quiet, you think everyone knows which one of the two you’d prefer.

“So?” you test the waters after a while, seeing if your project partner decides to finally comply with your request and discuss the important matters.

“So? Do you got any ideas?” he teases, watching you with challenging eyes.

Clearing your throat, caught off guard at the request– you assumed he’d tell you exactly what to do and you just have to do it and follow his lead, essentially not putting in much effort and still being sure of passing the class– but it seems like Lee Donghyuck won’t let you off that easily. You should've expected it. Being difficult is his favorite hobby, after all.

“Well, you’re the smart one here, so…” you shrug, trying the method that always works on men– and that is praising them.

“So you’re saying you’re stupid?”

“If it works in my favor during this conversation, then sure,” you nod, smiling at him in irony. Hyuck gives you a defeated sigh, shaking his head at you before he clicks his tongue at you and finally gives in.

“Okay, so, I was thinking we should pick a theme that fits the current social struggles, but after hearing this, I don't think feminism is our best choice,” he mutters.

“Like you’d know anything about feminism–”

“What do you have me for?” Donghyuck sharply glares at you, clicking his tongue at you in pure offense. “I am a fan of Little women, I'll have you know, of course I’m a feminist.”

“Well, you must be a fake fan, since everything about this deal is just me majorly girlbossing,” you point out, trying really hard to prove your point.

“Are you even being serious right now–”

“Anyways,” you cut him off, “what were you thinking?”

The man sighs and shakes his head at you in disbelief, but still speaks up again nonetheless. “I was thinking, well, maybe we could pick something that would really play into the old man’s feelings, you know, so we get him all sentimental and moved to tears…” he starts off, tone of voice now completely serious, making him sound kind of smart– startling you in the process, “that leaves us with a few possible options. We could do something with the 18 hundreds, or… fishing? I heard he’s into fishing. Or we could do something more abstract and shoot something about youth, since he’s very old and this could get him nostalgic. Or!” he suddenly perks up in his seat, eyes wide and a disturbing grin sitting at his lips, “we could include nudity! He’s a man, after all… wanna shoot porn? We don’t need words for porn.”

In absolute disbelief, you stare at the man with eyes wide open, blinking a few times and taking a few seconds to yourself to process the monologue you just listened to. You knew he was absolutely insufferable, but you didn’t know he was this much of a dumb freak. 

Taking your silence for disgust, Donghyuck just nods to himself and purses his lips.

“Youth it is, then… I mean, nudity would be difficult to present in front of the class for sure–” he admits, pouting.

“Yeah, like that’s the only problem with that idea…”

Afternoon classes aren’t your favorite ones of the week and although you absolutely despise waking up early and having to commute to university while you’re still half-asleep and absolutely irritated, there’s nothing that infuriates you more than knowing you could be done with the day already, sitting at home and watching your favorite TV show, only if it wasn’t for the responsibility of having to stay at campus and sit through another hour and a half lecture on a Thursday afternoon, way too late for your brain to be working in those hours.

This is one of the only classes you don’t share with your roommate Aeri– which makes the lecture that more excruciating, since you don’t have anyone with you that you could gossip with about your classmates or friends from back home when it gets too boring and you can't bear sitting in silence and forcing yourself to focus anymore– but there is one person from your circle that you do share this class with, and yes, you already guessed it; it’s Lee Donghyuck.

You don’t know when you’ve gotten so close to the point where he sits in the vacant seat right next to you almost immediately, followed by his friend Ju Haknyeon who you’ve never even spoken to before, but he still does so nonetheless, every Thursday, just so he could annoy you with his only half-funny remarks to every other sentence that comes out of your Animation class professor’s mouth. 

“What are you doing this weekend?” you hear Haknyeon ask the devil sitting on your left, and trust me, you don’t really like listening to other people’s conversations (that’s a lie, you live for gossip. You just wish you knew the least amount of information about Lee Donghyuck as possible, because sometimes you learn fun facts you wish never joined your brain), but you can’t really help it this time, can you? Haknyeon doesn’t know what whispering is, and you’re convinced Donghyuck would love everyone to hear him talk and give him attention anyway. 

“Not really sure,” Donghyuck replies, “Renjun bailed on me, said he’s going to the shelter with his girlfriend again, so I was thinking, right? You know, I’d looove to go on a road trip, and it’s crazy, you know, because–”

The words coming out of his mouth instantly make you alert, snapping your head around to make eye contact with the man that’s already staring at you with a shit-eating grin on his face, knowing you’re listening to them talk. “Lee Donghyuck, I am not going on a road trip with you–”

“See, Y/N here is my personal driver for the semester, so she can’t really say no–” Donghyuck continues, enjoying the way your face distorts into a pained scowl, your hand coming up into your hair to tug at the roots in frustration.

“If you make me do this, I’m going to open your door while we’re going 120km/h on a crowded highway and throw you out so you die under the wheels of someone else and I don't face the consequences,” you propose, shaking your head in disbelief, your voice shushed due to you still not wanting to be heard by the whole classroom, but still loud enough for both of the boys to chuckle.

“Come on, I bet you’d have fun. I have the best playlists for road trips, you know,” Hyuck teases, poking you with the tip of his pen, to which you click your tongue and move a bit further away from the male. 

“The last time I drove you somewhere that was more than a 10 minute drive, you had Céline Dion on loop, so I don’t know just how believable this claim is.”

“That’s disrespectful to the legend Céline Dion is, dear Y/N, and I’d take it back before her ghost comes to haunt you at night.”

“Is she even dead in the first place?” you squint at him, at disbelief of his words.

“She’s not,” Haknyeon chimes in from the side, shaking his head at the both of you before he chuckles, “you two argue like a married couple.”

“I would rather die than to marry him–”

“See, Hak, Y/N just hasn’t realized she’s in love with me yet,” Hyuck adds, clicking his tongue at his seatmate, “but she’s gonna realize it somewhere during our 5 hour long road trip, I’m sure. Just wait, it’s gonna happen soon.”

The class gets dismissed somewhere in the middle of the argument, and as you’re gathering your things to go, you hear the two of them talk among themselves, not really including you in their conversation anymore (which you’re glad for, frankly). 

“Are you going home after class?” Haknyeon asks.

“No,” Donghyuck shakes his head in disapproval, and there it is– the shit-eating grin appears on his face when he initiates eye contact with you and snickers, “Y/N and I are actually getting fried chicken at this place downtown, since I got coupons– well, Renjun got coupons for free chicken from his uncle last week, but he doesn’t like chicken that much, so I stole them from him–”

“Huh?” you scowl at him, wondering if you heard right. “I’m not getting chicken with you.”

“Of course you are,” Hyuck announces, “the coupons expire tomorrow, so we gotta do it today. I know you’re not busy, come on.”

“I’d rather choke than to spend any more time with you than I already have today, Donghyuck. Go with Haknyeon,” you say, pointing to the clueless senior staring at the both of you in wonder.

“Yeah, go with me, man,” he shakes his head, “I like chicken.”

“Unfortunately, this offer only applies to people that have a working car that could drive me there, so in case you wanna get your shiny BMW fixed in the next 24 hours, I can save the coupons for you,” Hyuck chimes, smiling innocently at his friend.

“What are you even talking about?” you mutter, tone of voice pained.

“Look, do you wanna get out of the road trip on Saturday, or not?” he stares at you, his gaze flaming as you sigh more for him to hear than to get out your frustration– you learned long ago that it does nothing to calm you down, worse, it makes you even more infuriated.

“Woah, Donghyuck!” you exclaim, fake excitement written all over your features. “Chicken actually sounds so good right now!”

That’s how you appear in one of the fried chicken places downtown, your car parked in their tiny parking lot, with Donghyuck excitedly skipping towards the restaurant with the bunch of coupons in his hands. You don’t really know why he insists on spending time with you– he could get a bus here or drive with one of his other friends that own a car, and you’re certain you are not the only one on his list– so the whole interaction makes you slightly confused. Still, you enjoy the free meal– like any other broke college student would– and when Donghyuck eats, his mouth is usually shut, so you don’t find that many negatives in this whole thing, after all.

“What are you thinking of doing for the project, by the way?” you ask, wiping your greasy fingers on one of the napkins Hyuck had offered to you just a few seconds prior after noticing your dismay at the state of your hands. You don’t like it when you get dirty with food, but you’d rather not eat at all than to eat fried chicken with a fork, so you guess this is the price you have to pay.

“You keep talking about the project,” he shakes his head, chuckling, “don’t worry about it. I have it covered.”

“What do you mean, you have it covered? This is supposed to be teamwork. Just because I drive you around, it doesn’t mean I won’t put my hand in– you’ll complain too much if I don’t,” you mutter after you swallow, rolling your eyes at him. He keeps saying the same thing each time you ask him– you’re suspecting that he has zero idea at all, and he’s just bluffing to make you feel more comfortable. Hell, you might even fail while working with Donghyuck and your whole plan is going to be ruined, for all you know.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, grinning, “we got the theme, so half the work is already done. We’ll just have to take one day to shoot some scenes on a field or something, and then I can edit it and put some sad music over it, and we’re sold. Trust me, I am a straight A student, I know what I'm doing.”

“You are not a straight A student, Lee Donghyuck,” you glare at him, not believing a single word that's just came out of his mouth.

“Okay well,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his coca-cola that he got for free with the order, “maybe I’m not. But you can count on me with this, hon.”

Sighing to yourself, you shake your head at him. “Don’t ever call me that ever again.”

“Hyuck,” you call for the male, nestling a little in your seat and scratching the back of your neck in frustration.

“Hm?”

“You said we were going to work on the project today, am I correct?” you ask, watching as the male walks up to you from the kitchen area of the room, a bowl full of popcorn in his hand as he plops on the sofa next to you (on the only area that allows you to lay down comfortably and still face the TV, also known as the spot you’ve already laid on, making the two of you almost uncomfortably close in the small space), a bottle of coke situated under his right shoulder.

“Correct,” he nods, reaching for the TV remote he spent approximately 15 minutes searching for in between the cushions of the sofa when you arrived, screaming at his poor roommate for losing it again as the shorter boy just grimaced at you and escaped the flat to hang out with someone you heard him call RJ! y/n.

Humming to yourself, you nod. “Okay, then… why the living fuck are we watching Hunger games right now?” you ask, tone of voice laced in frustration.

Donghyuck doesn’t reply to you for a while as he fumbles with the TV remote (and frankly, you don’t really know why he’s so focused, it doesn’t take much to just press play), but when he looks back at you and sees your gaze impatiently glued to his forehead, he shrugs. “We gotta find some inspiration first, you know,” he innocently states, “Hunger games is a movie about youth if I’ve ever seen one.”

“We’ve both already seen Hunger games, Hyuck,” you whine, but take a hand-full of popcorn out of the bowl that’s currently sitting in his lap. 

“How do you know that I have seen it already?”

“You just said so, you dumb fuck,” you mutter as you roll your eyes, watching the opening credits start. You can do nothing else than settle deeper into the sofa and watch the painfully long movie with your annoying neighbor now, and you despise the fact.

Well, you could do something else. There are many things, to be exact– you could either protest so much that Donghyuck finally gives in and turns the movie off, focusing his efforts into actually working on your project. If that doesn’t work, you can fight him for the remote, but you can’t really know if that wouldn’t make him pettily give you the silent treatment, which is exactly the opposite of what you’d like to be doing right now. Or you could just give up– seeing that you’re not gonna get much work done today– and stand up and go home. It’s not like you live that far away anyways… 

But still, you stay and watch the movie with him. You’ve seen it at least three times already, having watched it recently with Aeri when the movie had its second wave of fame on Tiktok, so you’re pretty sure that if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to recite the script alongside the actors, word-for-word, 100% correct and exact, right on time. You stay and watch Hunger games with Lee Donghyuck– why exactly, you still don’t know– and you find yourself enjoying the experience. It’s not as boring when you hear your neighbor annoyingly comment on each and every little thing that happens in the movie, his nasal voice cracking jokes and jumping into the conversations as if he was a part of the cinematic universe. Somewhere along the way, you join in with him, laughing and giggling when your roleplay gets too silly, and before you know it, the movie is about to end and you’re finally going to be free to work on the project with him.

Donghyuck gets unusually quiet towards the last part of the movie. You turn your head to him, ready to crack jokes at the tears you’re expecting to see in his eyes because of the emotional outro– Katnis and Peeta’s berry scene got you the first and the second time you watched the movie, the third time not so much, since Aeri kept pausing the movie for pee breaks, ruining the full effect– only to witness the man’s head falling to your shoulder the exact second you try to lock your gaze with him; your neighbor having passed out somewhere in the middle of the movie. You foolishly jump just the slightest bit at the contact, opening your mouth to say something to him that could wake him up, your instincts telling you to move away from the already uncomfortable closeness of your bodies and give yourself more space.

But as your lips part and you’re about to protest, you notice his own lips apart in a small pout, his cheeks appearing softer now that one of them is smashed against your shoulder, his long eyelashes fanning over the bones of his cheeks. The blue hue of the TV paints his cheeks rosier in the dim light, making you notice the moles on his face for the first time– leading you to count them and mentally create constellations between them as your gaze focuses from all the different places of his face to another. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shut your mouth and awkwardly make yourself look away from your annoying neighbor, cracking the knuckles of your hands that have been resting in your lap; but when the credits of the movie roll and you have nowhere else to focus your gaze on, you find yourself scanning the man up and down again, orbs catching every detail of his suddenly so pure being.

He is wearing gray sweatpants, the fabric hanging low on his waist, a plain black tee adorning his upper figure. He doesn’t often look this casual when he comes to class, opting to wear jeans or pants more formal, so you foolishly admire the cozy fit he has going on, not quite used to seeing Donghyuck looking this homey. His clasped hands resting in his lap catch your attention next, the soft skin adorning his slender fingers looking way too inviting right now as you subconsciously want to glaze your fingertips against the surface of his palm, just to see if your suspicions are right and his skin is just as gentle as it seems to be to the eye, and you almost do it– for scientific reasons, of course– before you catch yourself and almost mentally slap yourself for being so foolish.

What the hell is going on with you right now? You should wake him up now– the movie is already over, there’s no use in you staying over any longer if he’s asleep and won’t work on the project with you anymore– but you find yourself freezing each time your eyes focus on the creature sleeping against your shoulder, so soft and comfortable it makes your insides squeeze in warmth. It’s a strange sensation, and even a stranger one to feel for a person that annoys you the most in this world, and you can't bring yourself to do anything else than to overthink the simple fact. 

He can sleep for a few more minutes. You don’t mind. He must be tired, you think– he deserves 10 more minutes, maybe even 15– you won’t disturb him. The silence is strangely comforting, after all.

He can sleep for a few more minutes, you think– but the exact moment those thoughts roam around your head again, the front door to Donghyuck’s apartment opens and his roommate stands still in the doorframe of his living room, gazing at you with suspicion in his gaze. You quickly jump away from your project partner when eye contact with Huang Renjun is made, feeling the tips of your ears heating up in shame as you scatter to your feet and scramble for your things. You feel like you were just caught red-handed, doing something you shouldn’t have been doing, and you can’t bear the thought any longer. You need to get out.

A dissatisfied noise leaves Hyuck’s mouth as he wakes up to the impact of your movement, squinted eyes watching you as Renjun just laughs at your antics, shaking his head as if to tell you that he knows something you don’t. You don’t wanna hear it.

“Where are you going?” Donghyuck asks, voice laced with sleep. 

“Home,” you snap, running your hand through your hair as you move through the door frame that separates the living room from their entrance hall. “We can’t work on the project if you’re asleep, so I might as well just go and not waste my time here any longer!” you offer him, making sure to save your face by putting just enough pretended frustration into the comment as you put on your shoes and don't look back at him– however inviting the mental image of him seems in your brain– before you shut the door after yourself and leave.

dongfuck – drive me to mcdonalds

you – well hello to you too you – no.

dongfuck – >:( dongfuck – please

you – its 2am dude

dongfuck – your point..?

Sighing, scrambling for your things as quietly as possible to not wake up your sleep deprived flatmate, you get dressed in comfortable sweatpants, throwing a hoodie on to shield yourself from the chilly air. The walk down the stairs doesn’t take you more than a few minutes before you’re standing in the parking lot of your apartment complex, already seeing Donghyuck’s figure leaning on the side of your car, almost looking like he owns it– he does act like it lately, to be fair. 

“I knew you’d come,” he snickers as you roll your eyes at him, pressing the button on your car key to unlock the doors, watching as the man swiftly opens the driver’s side for you and then jogs towards the passenger’s side to get in, an excited stride in his step.

“I’m only here because I haven’t eaten dinner and chicken nuggets sound absolutely amazing right now,” you mutter, “don’t get too ahead of yourself. None of this is for you,” you grin, fastening your seatbelt and adjusting the rearview mirror just the slightest before turning on the engine and driving off the parking lot.

Donghyuck only shakes his head at you, a bright grin playing with his features. “Of course,” he hums, “wouldn’t want me to think that you actually want to hang out for once.”

“Of course,” you nod, “because that would be a lie. My goal is chicken nuggets, nothing else. And if I manage to get them out of you for free, that’s even better.”

“Who said I’m paying?”

“The gas station clerk did when I last went to get gas, actually! He told me I’m using twice as much gas lately because I’m driving a certain dumbass around, and I’m paying for all of the gas myself, can you believe it?” you shake your head, teasing him as you turn right on the main road, already seeing the McDonald’s in the distance. 

“That’s a strange way to talk to a customer,” Donghyuck squints his eyes at you, watching as you slow down when getting into the food chain’s parking lot, ready to drive up to the drive-through window and order your late night snacks.

“At least he’s looking out for me,” you shrug, teasing the male. “I better order a hefty meal, since you’re paying and all…” you mumble, looking over the poster to your left, tapping your chin, trying to look lost in thought. 

Hearing the man next to you scoff– already satisfied with how frustrated you’ve managed to make him– you pretend to look over the most expensive parts of the menu. “I’m starting to regret my decision,” Donghyuck adds, but the tone in his voice is light.

After a few more minutes of picking out your menu, you both order your meals and wait for them at the window. It doesn’t take long, since you’re the only ones in the whole place, and before you know it, Donghyuck is pressing his card into your palm, nudging you to pay for both of your meals. The gesture should be expected– you pretty much plastered him into doing this with how much you teased and complained– but it still shocks you when he does it with no other annoyed comments, watching as you offer it to the cashier and smile at him in thanks, taking the bags of food and driving off into the very back of the whole parking lot, turning the engine off and settling into the dark.

You tug your feet up to your seat, sitting crossed-legged in the small space as you face your companion, watching as he offers you the bag of food and digs into his own fries as well, scanning you from the corner of his eye. Now is the time you finally get to admire his attire for the first time the whole night– you never knew you had a thing for guys in sweatpants and oversized jackets, but the way your breathing almost catches in your throat at the sight of Donghyuck dressed so cozily again should be enough of a warning for you to the future. Forcefully taking your eyes off the male next to you, because you’d rather not think about the way you find yourself eyeing him lately, you eat your chicken nuggets– the ones you’ve dreamed of the whole night– and listen to the sound of your neighbor chewing on his burger. 

Feeling his eyes on you, you glare at him. “What are you staring at?”

“No take a picture, it will last longer this time?” 

“I learned my lesson from the last time,” you laugh, reminded of one of the first interactions you had with the male. “I hope you deleted the pictures, by the way.”

“No, I stare at them every night before I go to sleep,” he says, “so I’ll dream of you,” he sing-songs, laughing at the way your face distorts in discomfort at his words.

“Ah, so annoying,” you roll your eyes at him, but can’t battle the way your heart jumps a little at the sound of a laugh escaping his throat. Your eyes automatically trace his movements, noticing the way the far standing lamp post illuminates his face in just the right way, casting orange shadows over his features, making his eyes glimmer when they catch yours. Clearing your throat after being caught staring at him, you avert your gaze and finish the last of your fries, noticing the male done with his meal as well. 

“Now what?” he asks.

“We go home, what else?” you laugh, shaking your head at his question.

“But I don’t wanna go home yet,” he whines, and you already know what’s coming– pursuing, weird ideas, absurd arguments just to make you stay longer. And you’re immune to them on most days, but it’s too late in the night, so you have to cut yourself some slack. So what if you don’t want to come back yet either? It’s not a crime to want to spend some time with Lee Donghyuck.

“What a shame,” still, you tease, waiting for him to come up with a bright idea that you could use as an excuse to stay out longer.

“Oh come on,” Donghyuck mutters, “you always ruin the fun. Teach me how to drive, what do you say?”

Shocked at his preposition, you turn to him again, wide eyes and mouth agape. “What? Absolutely not.”

“Why? The parking lot’s empty. I can’t possibly be that bad that I crash your car into nothing. Come on!” he pleads, going even as far as pouting at you– not really knowing that the expression has you shamefully stare at his lips for a split second, insides heating up– and realistically, you should have warning signs blinking at you from everywhere in your brain, an alarm going off to tell you that this is not a good idea at all, but you’re too stunned to come up with another plan for the rest of your evening, and, well, you may be getting a little weak for the annoying gemini. He's right, though– what could possibly go wrong? 

So you only sigh in response, opening the door and getting out of your seat, watching as Donghyuck excitedly mirrors your motions and jogs to the driver’s seat, ready to possibly ruin your evening and your car at the same time. When you’re back safe inside of the car, you quickly fasten your seatbelt, a sign of your sense of self preservation still working well, watching Donghyuck move your seat further back so he can comfortably reach the pedals. His focused face is in your full view as he adjusts all the mirrors possible, and only then is when you notice him chewing on the inside of his cheek– in either nerves or concentration, you can’t really tell right now– and the sight makes you halt him in his motions before he manages to start the engine.

“Have you ever done this before?” you ask, watching as he turns to you with wide eyes, shaking his head in disagreement.

“No,” he peeps, laughing to himself, “Yangyang declined me the last time I asked.”

“Yeah, because he has a working brain,” you whisper under your breath, still in disbelief of what you allowed to happen, “so… can you reach the pedals?”

“I can.”

“And you see the whole back window in this mirror, right?” you ask, pointing to the rearview mirror, watching as Donghyuck nods.

“Positive.”

“Great. So… start the engine now, I guess?” you say, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you see him nod and reach for the keys, turning them. The car instantly comes alive right in front of him all while Hyuck seems  absolutely clueless, looking at you with big, adorable eyes, and you take it as your cue to instruct him on his next moves.

“Now press the clutch– the far left pedal– and move the gear stick into the first gear,” you say, watching as the boy slowly does as you say, reaching for the device and moving it to the desired place. “Good. Now, keep pressing the clutch and slowly start pressing the accelerator– the far right pedal– while also slowly letting go of the clutch until you get to the point where the car starts moving on itself. That’s when you don’t let go of the clutch, but keep it at that same exact spot, and put a bit more acceleration until the wheels spin like, once or twice. Only then can you keep your leg off the clutch.” 

“You’re kinda hot when you tell me what to do,” Hyuck mumbles, but the flirting doesn’t quite come through when his face is focused at the road and his composure seems shaken, too stressed out to actually mean the words coming out of his mouth.

“Shut up and do what I said,” you snarl, seeing as the man nods and tries moving with the car. It takes him some time, but it seems that he is a natural– the car moves without the engine dying, and suddenly, you find yourself cheering him on. “Good! Good! You’re moving!”

“Oh. My. God.” 

“Don’t panic!”

“I’m not panicking!” Hyuck hums, nodding to himself as he turns the wheel and makes a circle around the parking lot, grinning to himself with confidence. The car moves painfully slowly, and you, despite your best interest, find yourself enjoying the view– although you should probably be more worried about your own safety than you currently are. That's when you decide to challenge the male further.

“Okay, then we can shift into the second gear, it’s gonna go a little smoother,” you muse, seeing as the male nods.

His eyes stay focused on the road, though, so you take it as your cue to instruct him again. “Press on the clutch then, and move the gear stick straight down.”

“Mhm,” he hums, and presses on the clutch, but the struggle comes next as his hand flies all over the car, not quite used to the placement of the gear stick yet. Stressed, eyes glued to the road in front of him to not run into any possible obstacles in your way, he refuses to look away for even a second, and the whole sight makes your heart race in anxious agony as you reach for his hand and grip it, guiding him towards the stick and placing his palm on top of the device.

Your hold on his hand doesn’t loosen up as you guide his movements further and do it for him, just to make sure the stick really gets to its designated place and doesn't get stuck in neutral, which would make the engine die with the next press of the accelerator. His skin is soft under your touch, just like you imagined it to be, and you find yourself growing hotter the more your skin is in contact with his, the touch so innocent yet still sending you to overdrive.

“Now let go of the clutch,” you order, eyes glued to the side of Donghyuck’s head as he nods, listening to everything you say. The car now goes more smoothly and you watch him take another lap around the parking lot before you realize your hand is still gripping his on the gear stick, the information making you jump slightly in your place, clearing your throat in the awkward, tense atmosphere you managed to create for yourself.

“Okay,” you announce, “the trial is over, it’s time to press the brake– the middle pedal, if you haven't figured that out so far– and get out of my place,” you say, hoping the tone of your voice sounds as light as usual. 

The car comes to a strong halt, since Hyuck doesn’t really know how fast the brakes react yet, and if you weren’t buckled in, it’s certain that you’d go flying in your seat and smash your head against the dashboard. Breathing out when the car stills, you finally feel yourself relax, having been alert this whole time, as you squeeze Donghyuck’s hand for the last time, amidst selfishly, before you let go of it and turn towards the door, opening it and thanking the chilly air of the night for slapping you to your face. You really needed that wake up call.

Do you really need to drive a fucking manual? 

hyuck – can you drive me to yangyangs at 8

Staring at the text message on your phone, sighing to yourself at the weird discomfort in your stomach when it appears and registers in your brain, the sound catches attention of your roommate Aeri currently getting ready on the floor of your room, pressed almost uncomfortably close to the mirror. She should really wear the glasses she was prescribed.

“Donghyuck again?” she asks, staring at you through the mirror, a mischievous grin sitting on her face as she asks the crucial question.

“How’d you know?” you roll your eyes in irony, walking over to your closet and picking out your tonight’s outfit.

“Well,” she shrugs, “one, he’s like, the only person that ever texts you except for me, and two, you had that disgustingly doe eyed look on your face.”

“I so did not–”

“You so did,” she notes, putting another coat of mascara onto her long eyelashes.

“You know what? I regret telling you about this,” you mourn, scrambling for your things around your room and putting them into your bag, practically already ready to leave the apartment alongside your roommate slash best friend. When you came home last week after the McDonald’s run at 4 in the morning, you decided that sleep really wasn’t worth it anymore– as if you could fall asleep after the hotness in your whole body despite your window being wide open– and so you took a cold shower and decided to stay up in the living room, watching Netflix (more like having the show in the background as you tried hard to not have a mental breakdown at the newly found information about yourself). Aeri found you like that at 6 in the morning when she woke up to get a glass of water, and even though she was sleepy and groggy– which was probably why you decided to spill the beans so quickly– she interrogated you about the weird look on your face and it’s been a running joke between her and herself for the whole week.

“It’s really not my fault that you find our neighbor hot,” she notes, shrugging to herself.

“When did I say that? When did I say that!” 

“Well, you said you came home all flushed and that you imagined making out with him when you dropped him off back home, so that’s basically the same thing.” 

“I did not say I wanted to make out with him!” you defend yourself. You didn’t say it. You thought about it, that’s for sure, but your roommate really doesn’t have to know that. Unless she can read your thoughts, of course.

“Yeah, whatever. You and I both know it’s true.” 

Sighing, deciding that you’re ending the conversation with your roommate as long as the topic is your annoying neighbor, you turn to your phone and finally reply to his text message.

you – can’t

He replies almost instantly, as if he was waiting at his phone for the last 15 minutes, and the predictableness of his message almost makes you chuckle.

hyuck – why

you – cuz im going you – and i wanna drink you – so i cant drive

hyuck – ok that changes things then hyuck – my original mission was to get you to go there with me but this has to do i suppose hyuck – see you there ;)

Yes, you admit that you reread the messages a little too many times for your own liking. Trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind his words, you swear your brain is running a thousand miles an hour, and realistically, this is the part where you reach for your girl best friend and ask her what exactly is happening in the chat with you and the guy you’re talking to, but after the endless teasing you’ve already heard from her side, you decide against it and just turn off your screen and put the phone into your bag with the rest of your necessities.

“If you mention something about this tonight in front of Donghyuck, I’m locking you out of the apartment.”

“Ay ay, captain!”

The journey to Liu Yangyang’s house isn’t long. He’s the only one that still lives with his parents, but you can’t really blame him– the house is huge, and they are hardly ever home, because they are always on business trips in Taiwan. Half the time, it’s like the guy owns the place, and he also acts like it too, since half of the parties you’re invited to in a year are taking place at his house. 

When you get there, it seems that everyone was already there– at least the usual group, you suppose. You don’t know who else is invited, but when you arrive to Yangyang’s basement– the part of the house where he usually hosts the more chill, laid-back parties, with low music in the background, laughter resonating through the place and alcohol being passed around between people drinking straight out of the bottles– your eyes instantly zero on Donghyuck, dressed in a light bomber jacket and skin tight jeans, you decide that burning your throat with alcohol is the best thing you can do instead of audibly moaning at the sight.

Taking one of the opened bottles of Bacardi off the little camping table situated near the corner of the big room, you take a swig, not really caring about the people who have drank out of it before you– because the pandemic has taught you nothing, it seems– when you finally walk over to the group and say your greetings. Deciding that avoiding the object of your desire for the whole evening is the best plan how to survive without doing something you’re going to regret, you engage in conversation with pretty much everyone else, completely unaware of the way your neighbors eyes are burning a hole through the side of your skull, kind of offended that you haven’t come up to him first, since as far as he’s concerned, out of all the people present in the room, you spend the most time with him in the first place (with the exception of Aeri, of course, but you two live together, so it doesn't really count). In his opinion, you didn’t need to be talking to Na Jaemin right now– you’re not even friends with the man.

But still– drinking beer out of a bottle Lee Jeno passes you somewhere in the middle of the night before he disappears with his best friend to dance with them under the cigarette haze (pretty embarrassingly, you may add) – the only thing resonating through your brain is that you got this, you’re not gonna give him a single glance, you’re not gonna think about how attractive he looks in all black.

You guess that everything about the way this evening has been going is the prime example of every single college kid’s usual Friday. Sitting in a basement of Liu Yangyang’s house, your vision cloudy with a bit of alcohol and also the sweet, piney smoke of the joint that’s been passed around the room only a few minutes prior, music lowly plays in the background, adding a relaxed, yet exciting and bubbling atmosphere to it all– it’s the epitome of the experience you imagine before you go to college when you’re 15 and gazing longingly outside of your window, wondering if life when you’re older will be better and more fun.

And while you don’t necessarily think life is better now– you do have a shitton of assignments to do and stress eating up your insides– you do think it’s kind of fun. Everything is more bearable when you have a group of friends by your side, and while you wouldn’t call every single person in this room right now your closest friend– a friend for life, even– you’d say everything is better than being stuck in your house on a Friday evening, mourning the break up of One Direction one more time as you watch This is us again with spoonfuls of ice cream shoveled into your mouth, figure cuddled up under the blanket with your roommate by your side.

The fun only lasts until a round of Truth or dare takes place, though. You must admit that it’s the fundamental part of the whole hang out, and yes, it’s the thing you always see in the movies. It adds a bit of spice to it all and it’s twice as fun to play when you’re a little intoxicated, but still– you’d like to think you’re too old for the game now, even though your friends believe otherwise and never fail to bring it up again.

This time, it’s Jaemin who brings it up. You shoot daggers to his skull, annoyed eyes and all, but you don’t think he notices as he continues to excitingly sway his arms in the air when he repeats the submission over and over again, finally heard by his roommate Jeno that’s just come back from the weird dancing session with his best friend that he’s very obviously pining over, and grins at his roommate in agreement, starting the game. 

“Not again,” you whine audibly, because frankly, if you wanted to survive the evening with no embarrassment and no weird thoughts about one of the party guests, you don’t think a game of Truth or dare is your best move. Your disgust makes your own roommate– that’s suddenly glued to your side, too tipsy to even walk (you heard her exclaim that her legs are too heavy to be used)– giggle, already familiar with your thoughts on the game. And frankly, that makes you even more terrified– because when Aeri is drunk, she talks even more than she does when she’s sober, and well, there’s no promising that all of the information you’ve ever shared with her will stay truly confidential when she’s under the influence.

“Don’t start again,” she says, shaking her head, “you always say you hate it, but you always end up playing it anyway.”

She’s right. It’s not like anyone is pressuring you, but you kind of feel like the situation calls for you to join in– because what else are you supposed to do, watch them? There’s no fun in watching if you’re not involved, and you’d feel like an intruder if you just watched them do all sorts of dares while not being in on the game. 

“Yeah, because you’d all whine if I didn’t,” you say instead, taking a sip of your drink, letting the bitter taste of beer slide down your throat as she rolls her eyes at you, nudging you in your side with her elbow.

“Just say you end up having fun,” she snickers, “nobody would think that’s weird, you know.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” you shush her and pet her hair, taking advantage of the fact that you’re very obviously less tipsy than her, as you turn to the middle of the circle and wait for the game to start.

Usually, a couple of rounds pass before your name is called. You enjoy the tension– it feels like you have time to prepare to do whatever task their hazed minds come up with or answer whatever question that’s been burning on their tongue, yet, it also feels like a buildup before the big thing– a strange sense of climax, if you will. 

This time, it’s no different. A couple of minutes pass as you watch Yangyang lick the bottom of Jaemin’s foot– because Jeno always likes to come up with the nastiest, most worrying dares of them all– followed by the sight of Shotaro kissing the forehead of the most attractive guy in the circle (Renjun wasn’t happy with the wet peck left on his skin). The guys almost always pick a dare, and you think that’s an advantage, since before it’s your turn to finally participate in the game, they run out of ideas for dares that are possible to do in the weed-smelling basement of Liu Yangyang’s house and you can safely choose truth instead. It’s not like you’re not brave enough to choose dare– you did so many times before and never once backed away from the task, not even when you were dared to kiss the person on your right (that was the night you learned Kim Sunwoo wasn’t all that, because the drunken peck he pressed to your lips wasn’t all that appealing) – you just simply tried to pick the safest strategy for the game. 

Another kissing dare could suggest that you kiss the person you find the most attractive in the room right now. Or they could ask you for a lap dance on one of the guys. The possibilities are endless, and even though choosing the truth isn’t that much safer, since their questions could vary all the way from ‘What’s the color of your underwear right now?’ to ‘What is your favorite sex position?’, you’re trying to comfort yourself with the fact that you could just lie. You know it’s kind of prohibited, and that it also defeats the whole purpose of the game, but still– you’re not planning on embarrassing yourself tonight, and you were always a pretty good liar when it came to words. Actions? Not that much.

Sinked deep in the stained light orange fabric of the sofa, eyes half-lidded, you await Jaemin’s question as you tell him you did indeed pick the truth. And you were right, there are no protests coming out of the boys’ mouths this time around, seemingly tired of coming up with original ideas for their dares. 

“Come on, man, we don’t have the whole day,” Renjun nudges the boy into his ribs, annoyed with the lack of words from his friend. 

“Actually, we do. I don’t see the issue-”

“Just ask something already!” Shotaro whines from his position on the floor, his back pressed against the side of the sofa.

“Fine,” the man straightens up in his position, as if struck by a newly found sense of clarity, the look on Na Jaemin’s face reeking of insanity, “I've got something.” 

The room cautiously looks at the platinum-haired boy sitting on the floor, his back resting against an armchair in the corner of the room as he blinks a few times, seconds passing, yet there’s still nothing coming out of his mouth. 

“Are you gonna say something, or will you continue to act all dramatic…?” Jeno snickers, making his roommate roll his eyes at the jab, finally breaking the silence.

You’d argue that he just forgot what he wanted to say– with how Jaemin gets when he’s drunk, it wouldn’t be half surprising– but it seems like his roommate knows him better than you do, because the man speaks up fast, and suddenly, you take back all your impatient thoughts that urged him to ask you something already, because the question takes you by surprise and leaves you in shock, staring wide eyed and speechless.

“If you had to have sex with anyone in this room, who would you choose?” 

You no longer wish he took longer to ask you the question. No, you wish he would’ve sent it to you telepathically, so you could prepare your answer beforehand. You’d save yourself a lot of trouble– being met with the gaze of everyone, looking at you as they await your answer is truly not helping you with the difficult task of responding to the truth, when in reality, you don’t think you can manage to even say anything.

Because truthfully, if you were asked this question at any time prior to the weird situation you found yourself in with Donghyuck– who’s, just by the way, still present in the room, but more quiet that usual, which you shamefully notice and worry about on your insides, but don’t mention out loud– you’d think that you wouldn’t have sex with anyone in this room. It may be hard to believe– even though the men in this room aren’t the sexsymbols they often think they are– but that's the sheer reality.

But now? You feel like the truth is written all over your face, you feel like everyone can see right inside of your head and read the words straight out of your brain. It’s embarrassing. You feel ashamed.

Looking around the space, shiteating grins meeting all of their expressions, you shrug and finally get some words out, hoping they satisfy their needs for an answer. 

“No one,” you say, praying you sound confident. 

“Yeah, no-”

“Oh, come on-” 

“That’s a lie-”

Multiple voices cut into your confession, all in disbelief. If this isn’t the proof of their impressively big egos, you don’t know what is. All of them now staring at you with furrowed eyebrows, not believing a single word that’s just came out of your mouth, you start to wonder about how to convince them that you are, indeed, telling the truth, even though you’re obviously aren’t, so you don’t have to take a shot of whatever liquid the host of the party has hidden in the closet of his basement as a punishment.

“I’m serious! I’ve never looked at any of you and thought, ‘yea, I’d let him get it’,” you shrug, taking a nervous sip of the beer in your hold again.  

“Okay, but if you had to? Like, imagine someone is holding your mother captive and telling you they’re gonna kill her if you don’t have sex with anyone in this room. Who are you choosing?” Jeno squints at you, and you’re starting to believe that the man just wants you to pick him. 

“I’d have sex with Aeri,” you muse, pointing a finger to her as she’s leeching to your right shoulder, snickering.

“That’s a cop out!”

“Look, man, I don’t find anyone here hot, okay?” you shake your head at the commotion, grinning to yourself to seem more believable. And with how they roll their eyes and sigh to themselves, you think it’s working. There’s a premature feeling of relief in your insides, thinking that you’ve done it, you haven’t exposed yourself, before you hear your roommate mumble from her slumber, making your heart drop deep down into your own fucking asshole.

“Not even Hyuck?” 

Slowly spinning your head towards her, the tight smile on your face suggesting that you’re going to kill her in under approximately five seconds if she doesn’t take back what she said, you’re painfully aware of the fact that everyone’s staring at you now, grinning to themselves with a look that says they believe that Aeri knows something they don’t– she’s your best friend, after all– and you realize that you’re going to have a hard time getting out of this one. 

You should’ve expected this the moment you saw her drink that much. Maybe you should’ve stayed home today. The information about Lee Donghyuck was still too fresh in her brain to not mention when she has some to drink– you understand, in a way. At least, you’re trying to understand.

“Fuck no,” you grunt out, furrowing your eyebrows in the best acting performance you’ve managed to put on since your theatre kid days. You don’t think you’re convincing anyone, though. You’re not even convinced.

“Was that my name I heard?” 

And again, your heart drops at the familiar tone coming from the place straight opposite of you, the place that’s very obviously in your point of view, yet you’ve been successfully avoiding the whole evening to not seem as obvious to everyone that the very man has been occupying your every thought for the last week or two. You realize this is the first time he’s spoken to you this evening, if you’re not counting the text messages you exchanged before you got here, and something about the fact makes you shiver.

Meeting his eyes, because it’s the natural thing to do when someone speaks to you, you mentally curse and feel your heartbeat quickening at the grin sitting on his face. Eyes roaming his body– all against your will–  you notice the comfortable way he’s sitting on the armchair in front of you, legs parted wide and his thighs on full display, hair a little messy and eyes glossed over and blown out, since he smoked just a few minutes prior to the game, making you realize just how painfully he resembles someone who just had a long make-out session; the thought automatically leading you to think of the fact that you’d like to have a make-out session with him right now, and wow, his thighs do look inviting to sit down on.

“You wish,” you spit instead, still wanting to save the situation. Averting your gaze from him to keep yourself sane, you choose to focus on the floor instead, heat rising to the tips of your ears. 

“I mean, it seems more like you do,” he grins, the whole group snickering at the sudden quarrel in between the two of you. Your conversation suddenly reminds you of the ones you had with him before the two of you started properly talking, and something about the confident smirk on his face makes you remember just how annoying you’ve always found him whenever you encountered him at this very place. You’re back to square one for a minute, with your defensive remarks, similar to the way you used to quarrel with him before, and the familiarity engulfs you like a warm blanket.

“Your confidence amuses me,” you bite back, choosing to look at him as you say it to add more impact to your words; your decision seems to only worsen the things for you, though. The conversation admittedly sounds a little too much like flirting, and the way you notice him clutching the can of beer in his hand only makes you more flushed under his gaze.

“You don’t seem amused.”

“That’s because the idea of having sex with you makes me want to leave this room,” you grunt, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

“I’ll take you home if you’d like,” he winks at you. Alarm sound goes off in your mind, your hands clammy as you run them through your hair, and suddenly, you’re on fight or flight. And if you can’t escape the situation, you decide to choose the latter– throwing him the most jabbing remark you can think of at this moment, fighting to keep your dignity.

“On a bike, or something?” you snicker. “As if I’d let a guy without a licence fuck me. You know that’s below my standards, Hyuck.”

An amused gasp is heard in the room when this remark leaves your mouth. The main source of the noise is Liu Yangyang, the host himself, since he likes to laugh at times when it’s the least socially acceptable. 

Now, you know that there are only a few things in which men value their social status; one of them being the amount of girls in their bed, the next one their rank in League of Legends, and lastly, their cars. And while Lee Donghyuck is known to be quite the player when it comes to the first thing in the list of social ranking between guys (or at least you’ve heard so from the girls in the locker room in the past years. Not like you were listening to their conversations whenever his name was mentioned… you just have very good hearing) and he was known to be the one that carries the team whenever any game on Yangyang’s PS5 is played in the dimly-lit basement on nights much like this one, there was something always setting him back in the neat ranking, and that something was the state of his car. 

Why? You guessed it– he doesn’t have a car. Or a licence.

To be quite frank, by the expression on Donghyuck’s face– all wide eyes and mouth agape in shock– you hit him right when it hurts, the grin falling off his face when he takes a sip of the beer in his hand, seemingly to chase down the taste of being put in his place and to have something to do to not seem as awkward and embarrassed as he must be feeling right now. 

You feel victorious, in a way– you managed to mask your very obvious sexual frustration caused by the man, while also managing to rile him up with your comment, which is definitely a first in your dynamic– adrenaline rushing through your blood as you look at him with expecting eyes, awaiting his response. The rest of the crowd laughs at your remark, only fueling the joy you feel when he suddenly averts his gaze from you, licking his lips for only a millisecond (yet it doesn’t get unnoticed by your eyes) before he snickers again, shrugging.

“Okay then,” he grunts, pressing the tip of his tongue to the inside of his cheek in annoyance, “you won.”

You know what? Once he admits to it, the feeling of victory quickly fades. Watching his frustrated face, eyebrows furrowed as he looks everywhere but at your face, suddenly, you choose to drown yourself in the rest of the beer in your bottle, relieved when you notice the game progressing without you. 

You won, he says, but you don't feel like you did. Quite the opposite, actually. You feel a tad bit defeated. 

You managed to lie to the crowd, but the very obvious pit in your stomach reminds you that you can’t lie to yourself– and now, bear with me as I say something cheesy, yet true– because even though Lee Donghyuck can’t drive, he’s still very successful at driving you crazy.

You feel like the universe is punishing you for every little, smallest thing you’ve ever done wrong in your life. You feel like whatever force is there that’s making this world go around, absolutely, completely, wholeheartedly hates, despises you, and won’t have mercy on you as you’re left dealing with the text message shining on your phone screen four days after the party, at 8 in the evening. 

hyuck – drive me to a date hyuck – please ig 

Sighing, one, two, three times, you chew on the bottom of your lip as your eyes scan over the messages, and something about the very few words makes your stomach turn and twist in an emotion you’d describe as a weird mix of disgust and shock as you mentally try to come up with a reply. And it’s hard.

It’s difficult, because you hate it, you hate it, you hate it– the way Lee Donghyuck just managed to score himself a date only four days after your ever so growing sexual frustration has started to see the light of the day, you hate the way he’s asking you to drive him there– as if to show you that he still has it, that you’re wrong, and that even though he has no car and no license to boost in front of other girls, they still want him and you’re about to witness it as you drive him there. 

And you hate it so much you start to think you’re going to chew on your own fist and throw a rock through your own window, but you strive hard not to show it. And is there a better way to seem unaffected in this situation than to comply with him? If you weren’t so jealous about the whole thing, you’d surely just make fun of him and do it, no questions asked– a friendly favor, or something. And so you do it. Like it’s nothing.

you – ok text me when you’re ready 

After a few minutes, you end up sitting in your car, hands on the wheel ready to turn (and run into the nearest car out of pure rage, possibly), waiting for Lee Donghyuck to appear on the passenger’s seat, all dolled up and dumped in cologne, presumably– and that’s exactly what happens when the door swings open and your nose is filled with his usual smell but somehow amplified, and you catch a glimpse of his leather jacket and the shirt tucked into his black jeans. You don’t outright look at him– because you’re still trying really hard not to show all of your inner thoughts on your face– and so you only turn on the engine and hum at him, already making your way out of the parking lot.

“Where are you going, then?” you ask, tone of voice completely unbothered and not too stingy or tight. “And I’m just dropping you off this time, right? Because I won’t sit there and watch you have a date and wait to drop both of you back,” you say, playing with the car radio and trying to find a station that would both satisfy your need to tune out your thoughts with a good song and the need to do something with your fingers to seem occupied.

“Of course not,” he snickers, “wouldn’t do that to poor you. And just go the way I tell you. Now turn left at the end of the street.”

Sighing to yourself at his orders, you do your best at driving your neighbor to his date while trying to ignore just how ridiculous this whole situation is. You should’ve said no back when he first asked you to be his personal driver for the semester– failing Film theory class doesn’t seem like such a bad thing in your eyes now, when you look at the situation in retrospect.

“Can’t believe you have to be dropped off at your own date and you still pull bitches,” you shake your head in disbelief, hoping, praying you seem annoyed because of your duties and not because you’d much rather have him staying in so you could catch a glimpse of him in his window, crouched down in the blue light of his room (yes, he has neon lights in his room. Yes, you teased him about it countless of times before) as he plays League of Legends or stays up on a discord call with his friends, playing Minecraft.

“See? You’re missing out,” he chuckles, shrugging to himself. 

“As if I’d ever go on a date with you,” you huff, moving to turn the volume of the radio higher so you don’t have to make small talk with him anymore, agitated, yet completely ignoring the fact that it was you who brought it up in the first place.

Hyuck moves his slender fingers along the knob of the radio and tunes the volume back down, and you’re eager to repeat your previous steps just to anger him and also so you don’t have to listen to his sneaky, egoistical remarks for any longer, when you hear him tell you the next directions and you realize that you still indeed need to hear Donghyuck’s voice, or else you’re not gonna be able to drop him off at his destination and drive away as fast as humanly possible.

The terrain around you starts to look more stranded. There are more trees than buildings in your sight, lampposts decreasing in amount as you drive further away from the city center, and only when you pass the sign that tells you that you just left the town you speak up again, now truly concerned.

“Where the fuck are you taking your date, man? To the middle of the woods?” you huff. “Is she meeting you there?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he laughs, shaking his head at your furrowed brows. Something about his casual composure makes your nerves tick off and goosebumps appear all over your body, as if you were sensing danger, when you sigh out heavily in frustration and turn to look at him for only a split second, eyes meeting with his. 

“Or are you making me drive to another fucking state, you fucker? I don’t have that much gas right now, you dumb ass–”

“We’re almost there, don’t worry,” he rolls his eyes at you, pointing somewhere into the distance again. “Just turn right there and drive up the hill.”

“Up the fucking hill?” you repeat, concerned.

“I told you to not worry about it,” Hyuck hums, settling deeper into the car seat, letting you battle your own thoughts as you follow his orders and drive up the hill for him, praying no deer decides to jump onto the road and total your car right now. 

“I worry about the girl that agreed to go on a date with you, Donghyuck,” you mutter, “I’ll tell you that, she clearly doesn’t have everything alright in the brain, because this is ridiculous.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he swats your worries away with a swing of his arm, pointing towards a place that extends out of the main road– if you can even call it that, since no cars are passing through the hill ever, much more in these hours of the day– and tells you that you can park the car there. 

And you do as you’re told, despite your never-ending complaining– that’s the dynamic you have with Lee Donghyuck, it seems. 

Stopping the car out of the main road, your car shielded from one side by a row of trees, you step on the break and look at the man to your right in question, the engine still running. “Is this it? Is this the place?”

“Yeah,” he nods, a grin slowly starting to play with his features. Something isn’t right– you feel it in your bones and see it in his eyes, but you can’t quite put your finger on it, still utterly confused and in the dark about everything. “Come on, get out of the car.”

He wastes no time in unbuckling his seatbelt and hopping out of the vehicle, his figure circling the car as he leans on the hood, turned away from you and seemingly waiting for you to follow his actions. Confused, figuring that you can’t do much more about the situation right now– where the fuck is his date? Why are we on the top of a hill? Will his date show up? – all swimming around your brain, you hop out and find his warm being, standing one step ahead of him and staring at him with stern, frustrated eyes.

“Look, isn’t it pretty?” he asks, pointing somewhere behind you. It takes everything in you to turn and gaze at the sight in front of you, your heart still weak and angrily beating against your ribcage, but you do as you’re ordered, eyes bearing into the view. 

The whole town is stretching out right below you. Now that you’ve turned the engine off and your headlights have gone out, you see the lights even better, shielded by a blanket of stars glimmering above the horizon, and you can’t help but gasp out in the beauty of it all. This place makes you want to take a picture, so you can remember how you felt while standing here and admiring the city forever– so you can remember how you felt while standing next to Donghyuck, heart foolishly drumming against your ribcage– and you suddenly realize just how badly you despise the fact that he showed this to you just to send you off while he waits for his date, as if to show you everything you could have if you went out with him, even though the question was never even on the table in the first place.

Clearing your throat, you turn to him, eyes glazing his side profile. “Where’s your date? Is she turning up? I don’t think it’s safe to make her–”

“My date’s already here,” he hums, nodding to himself. 

This does nothing to clear out the fog of confusion from in front of your eyes. “Huh? Where?”

“Here,” he repeats. The word has you wearily looking around yourself, furrowed brows and all– and that only makes the man chuckle at your antics, low voice cutting out of his throat making its way straight to the bottom of your stomach. “There’s no one else here. Just us. And no one else is coming, so will you chill out and enjoy our date, finally?” he asks, locking his gaze with you in a lazy, yet attractive manner that has your hands shaking and your brain instantly panicking.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you process his words for a few seconds, doing mental acrobatics and racking your brain in thought. Nothing helps. “Our date?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah, no,” you giggle out in awkwardness, feeling unarmed and like somebody’s just dunk a bucket of hot water over you. Shaking your head, you try hard to mask the way you’re feeling on the inside right now, because what are you even feeling right now? As you do some unreadable gestures with your arms as a way of declining and canceling everything that’s happening right now. “Us? A date? Yeah, not happening–” 

You mumble out, ready to escape the situation as fastly and as efficiently as you can while you try to make your way back inside of the car, not really thinking of the journey home you’re about to have to make with him on the passenger’s seat, when a hand grips your wrist, making you stop in your tracks. You take a few steps away from him nonetheless, and the man soon follows you before your body is swiftly turned against your car, the small of your back coming in contact with the driver’s door. Your breathing is quick when the man hovers above you, and you don’t feel danger– you just feel a bit panicked at the way tonight’s playing out. A date? You wouldn’t have thought of this in your most insane dreams.

“Why are you trying to run away?” he asks, his hand still holding your wrist, his fingers firm, yet gentle on your skin.

“Because– um– because-” you stutter, eyes instantly meeting his– regret pooling in the bottom of your stomach when you realize the proximity of his gaze, something tense bundling up in your insides, “this is ridiculous, Donghyuck, you can’t just–”

“I can’t just?” he tempts you, eyebrows rising to make you continue.

“You can’t just lure me into a date with you, that’s not how this works–”

“Would you go if I asked, then?”

“No, of course not!” you shake your head at him, tone of voice a few octaves higher than usual. Your eyes scan over your companion, his face reflecting the moonlight, and you find yourself counting the moles on his cheeks and noticing his sped-up breathing, automatically matching it despite not realizing it yourself. 

“Why? ‘Cause I don’t have a driving license, or because you’re just scared to admit that you’re attracted to me?” he challenges you, quirking up his brows at you in tension. 

Something about it makes you lose all the air in your lungs. He’s so close now you swear the scent of his cologne has made you drugged up, since you can’t seem to take your eyes off his lips for the next few seconds, completely in trance and electrified, and before you know it, you’re a blubbering mess, too lost in everything that is him to come up with something coherent. “That’s- that’s just not-”

He laughs at you, he snickers, as those words escape your mouth, not even a full sentence. You bet it’s enough of a confirmation for him that you’ve officially lost all control– you can’t seem to get out a teasing remark like you usually can, no smart words calculated and thrown his way to scatter down his ego, and you think he realizes that he won. You’re defenseless, you’re weak, and you really want to make out with him right now.

Which he might have sensed out of the way you’ve been yearningly staring at his lips the whole exchange. Still, he mumbles out a small “Stop me now if you don’t want this,” just to be completely sure.

And you don’t. You don't stop him when he leans in and captures your lips with his. You’d be a fool to.

His lips crash against yours with a fever-like pace, the tension that’s been building up between the two of you making itself known in the hurried motions of your lips. His kiss is deep, hands cradling your cheeks as he angles you to lock your lips with his better, not a hint of shyness or hesitance in his motions. Your fingers shakily grasp at the front of his shirt, trying to steady yourself when each motion of his mouth against yours leaves your knees weaker and weaker, your body pressed harder against the car door.

He tastes of mint, making you suspect he planned this and chewed on a gum before meeting you, and when his teeth gently pulls at your bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from you, his tongue is left exploring the inside of your mouth, making you grow hotter and hotter under his ministrations. Your hands occupy themselves as they finally let go off his shirt and sneak around his small waist, pulling him closer, and you swear that you’ve never experienced a kiss that would leave you so eager for more before, a kiss that would leave you so weak and open for anything that’s about to happen– as if you were already naked and bare, a puddle in his palms. 

You’re soon left out of breath, gasping for air when he pulls away from you, and his kisses turn into pecks left on your lips, open mouthed kisses slowly trailing to the corner of your mouth and down your jaw, lips hungrily attaching to your neck, his nose glazing the soft skin as if to smell your scent and ingrave it into his memory. Something inside of you unties and makes you lose all of your control, finally falling fully into the sensation of the novelty of making out with Lee Donghyuck against your car, and you find your hands tying themselves into his hair, tugging at the roots when he finds the soft spot on the crevice of your shoulder that makes you squirm, and you suddenly know what all the girls in the locker rooms were talking about. Each action of his has you gasping for air, eyes pressing shut in the blissfulness of it all– the bites he leaves on your neck, smoothing them down with kitten licks each time surely leaving bruises, making your insides light up with the acts of possession.

“Hyuck–” you gasp, his mouth sucking into another spot on your neck, your head instantly moving away from his way to give him more space to work his magic.

“Hm?” he hums, a satisfied sound cutting out of his throat as his actions get more slow, more lazy, but still just as electrifying. You don’t really know what you wanted to say– perhaps you had no point of calling his name just to say it, and the hazy look in your face is enough of a proof to him when he unattaches himself off your neck and locks his eyes with you, a grin settling onto his face. “Feels good?” 

Nodding eagerly, almost a bit fast and a bit too soon to your own liking (but you’ll worry about that later), you watch him lean towards you again, lips locking with yours in need. Your fingers trail up and down his clothed back, his fingers mirroring the same, but up your loose shirt (which reminds you that you didn’t even dress prettily for the occasion– since you didn’t know this was your date you're attending), cold hands against your heated skin. Shivering from the fresh breeze of the night, you feel him grin against your lips before detaching himself from them to speak against your mouth. “Let’s move this somewhere warmer,” he murmurs before he tugs you away from the car and opens up the back door, pushing you inside.

Swiftly getting inside and closing the door behind himself, Donghyuck appears hovering above you, caging you against the uncomfortable seat. Still, you don’t have time to feel any sense of discomfort as his fingers move your hair from the way and his lips are back on yours again, leaving you no time to think of the implications of the whole situation. 

“See? Isn’t this much better than arguing with each other all the time?” Hyuck snickers again in a moment of weakness when he pulls back from your face to admire your swollen lips, and the teasing has you pushing him towards the seats, a dissatisfied look on your face. 

“Shut up,” you whisper almost hurriedly, climbing onto his lap (not before you admire his sprawled-up legs and the sight of his thighs, though).

“Make me,” he challenges.

“Gladly,” you nod, attaching yourself to his plump lips again, since you can’t seem to get enough of the sensation of them against your weak self, every sweep of his tongue with yours making you feel more heated and impatient as you move against him in his lap, the motion earning you a dissatisfied grunt sent against your mouth as his palms grip your hips with unsaid urgency.

“Don’t start something you wouldn’t want to finish,” he breathes out.

Nodding, you hum. “Who said anything about stopping?” you muse out, grinding against him harder.

You’ll worry about the consequences later.

“Why am I the only one in the shot?” you squint your eyes at the male, watching him as he points his camera to you and tells you to smile and act natural. Donghyuck has on his varsity jacket and his hair is sitting messy, a bit curled on the top of his head, his legs are covered with loose gray sweatpants instead of his usual black jeans– he looks casual, and yet, he looks amazing, you foolishly think as you sigh to yourself and walk across the field, much like the male mentioned a few weeks ago when the two of you ate fried chicken with his free coupons, trying to capture the energy of what youth feels like to you.

“Because you are the main star, honey,” he grins at you, the nickname making you trip over a little on your own feet, before you turn back to him and send him a glare.

“I told you not to call me that,” you mutter, but feel the heat from your stomach slowly rising to the tips of your ears and the tops of your cheeks, your composure slowly crumbling under his gaze. Not only are you watched by his deep brown orbs, there’s also a camera pointed at you now, and if he doesn’t stop with the weird flirting he has going on– especially after what happened between the two of you last week– you don’t know how you’re supposed to contain yourself and act so you don’t look like an utter fool in front of everyone, when the clips will be played in class next week.

“Besides, the project is due next week and this is all we’re doing? Are you sure we’re going to be able to pull this off?” you ask, wary of his confidence. You’re not really sure if Donghyuck knows what he’s doing with this assignment. Why did you even trust him with it in the first place?

“I told you to leave it to me,” he says, “now be a good girl and run down the field, maybe twirl a little like a ballerina, I dunno… Hum a little tune to yourself, do anything remotely interesting and youthful, okay?” he instructs you, and you comply, ignoring the fact that he told you to be a good girl, because after what the two of you did last week, you’re not able to register those two words in a way that would not be mildly sexual in your brain.

You two haven’t spoken about the fact that you hooked up in the backseat of your car after your weird date last week. Truth be told, you two haven’t spoken about anything since it happened, because you felt too awkward and hesitant to bring any conversation topic up. The first time you two spoke was when Donghyuck texted you yesterday about the project, and you told yourself that you simply can't ignore him when it comes to these things, and so you agreed to meet up with him, hoping he won't bring up the events of last week. You were scared. What were you scared of, exactly? You have no idea.

Something in you was almost a bit shameful to admit to yourself that you managed to fall for Lee Donghyuck this quickly. Something in you was a bit embarrassed at the fact that you let yourself be so intimate and so close with the male, and although you don’t regret it, you don’t think you want to talk about it with him (or anyone, for that matter) just yet. Or ever, actually.

And although you could be rational and tell yourself that surely, Donghyuck wanted you in just the same way you wanted him, and there was nothing embarrassing about it, you didn’t feel comfortable with talking about the act with him, because deep down, you know it wasn’t just about the sex for you and you were afraid that it was for him, and you’d rather stay in the blissful unknowingness than to know he only wanted to have sex with you and not try to go somewhere further with your relationship. Did this inner monologue reek of disgusting insecurity? 

Yes. Yes, it did. But somehow, you’re not able to do anything about it.

And so you run down the field like Donghyuck told you to, and you twirl and twist and shout and dance around, trying your hardest to act silly and youthful and exactly like he would like you to, because you’d hate to be unnatural around him, and you pray it’s enough for both the project and him included. Turning back to gaze at him from the distance, you notice that he’s not even recording anymore, only watching you with a lazy grin on his face, eyes glimmering under the direct sunlight, and you wonder how you haven’t realized just how beautiful he is when he’s simply just existing all those months ago, and how foolish you feel with the thought and both without it now. Walking up to him, you muse. 

“Are we done here?” 

“I think we got all the shots we need,” he hums, nodding to your question. There is something reassuring in his smile, and if you were confident enough to grasp at the straws, you would try to talk to him about the events of last week. You lack in many ways, though, and you were never so self-assured as you try to portray yourself to be, and so you don’t. 

“Let’s go, then,” you say, shuddering from the cold November wind as you walk away from the man, expecting him to follow you. You drove here, since the place is a few miles away from the city, and the fact that this marks the end of your project didn’t really make you as relieved and happy as you thought you’d feel back when you agreed to be his driver for the semester. 

A soft fabric envelopes your shoulders, his varsity jacket hugging you into warmth. You smell his cologne when you shyly push your limbs through the sleeves– a self-indulgent desire, too strong to be fought away– and when you look at him to thank him, he wears a soft look in his eyes that glazes you with such tenderness you feel like combusting from the inside with the strengths of your own emotions. Your heart beats fast in your chest when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as you walk towards the car, and when a stronger wind hits your heated face, you think that maybe Donghyuck was right, after all. 

You do think this perfectly captures what youth feels like.

“So we won’t talk about it?” he asks, and you turn away from him in fear of your emotions being clearly written on your face. He doesn’t have to name it– you know what he means.

“No,” you shake your head, determined, yet a little scared of his response, “not now.” Not yet, you think. You want to enjoy today a little longer.

“Why?” he asks.

Taking a shaky breath in, sensing that you won’t get to avoid the confrontation like you wanted to, you shrug. “I don’t know if I’m ready to hear it yet,” you bitterly laugh, meeting his eyes with something close to fear in your eyes.

“Hear what?”

“That you… you didn’t really mean anything by it, y’know,” you mumble, “I mean, you probably just did it to stroke your ego, or something, after everything I said at the party, so… yeah, I just don’t know if I wanna hear it.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence after your explanation, and Donghyuck only stares you down with a blank expression. It's not often that you don’t get to clearly see and experience all his emotions flashing through his face, letting you know what he feels even before he gets to speak it out loud. Now is one of the situations, though, and it scares you– it makes you so deeply afraid you’d rather back away from this conversation– damn you for entertaining it in the first place, and so you pretend it never happened in the first place.

“You think I did it to stroke my ego?” he clarifies.

“I- I mean…” you stutter, shying away from his gaze.

“Okay, then,” he mumbles, jaw hardening, his eyes not meeting yours when he circles the car and gets to his designated place on the passenger's seat, “that’s fine, I guess. I’ll try to show you my intentions clearer next time.”

Sitting in class, head resting in your hands as you stare right in front of you, mentally counting down the seconds until the last class of the semester starts, you are only vaguely aware of the things happening around you. You register Aeri talking to you about the new episode of her favorite drama somewhere to your right and you are also aware of Haknyeon and Shotaro sitting in the row in front of you, laughing loudly to themselves about the way their weekend went– yours went terribly, just for everyone’s information, since you decided to drown your feelings in alcohol alone in your apartment, having to be led to bed by your roommate after she got home in the middle of the night from one of her dates with Eric. You don’t really realize it when the class starts, because the monotone voice of your professor doesn’t do much to wake you up, but you are painfully aware of Lee Donghyuck’s body slumping next to yours into one of the only vacant chairs approximately 10 minutes after the class starts, out of breath and slouched over.

Aware of his presence, yet still acting like a scared deer around him, you don’t make any effort into turning to him and greeting him upon his arrival. Still, you sense the smell of his cologne filling your nostrils and making you just a bit more tired and sleepy, your eyes closing on themselves before you’re woken up by the sound of your name coming out of the professor’s mouth.

Scared you’re getting scolded for sleeping in class, you straighten your back and put on your best polite expression, but then you realize your name wasn’t called, just mentioned, and the name of none other than your neighbor was following, when the projector on the wall in front of you lights up and a file named Final projects is opened on the professor’s laptop, each .mp4 file named with a pair of surnames, and two clicks after, your final project is the first one of many presented in front of the whole class. You tried to tell Donghyuck that you could help with the final editing, but the male said he had a vision he needed to achieve, and for that, he wanted to be in charge of it alone, and frankly, out of fear of interacting with him more than was absolutely necessary, you left him to do his thing, resulting in this being your first time watching the final video as well.

There’s a few seconds of silence, a point of complete blankness as the clip starts, and a song played on an acoustic guitar starts playing when the word YOUTH, all capitalized, flashes at the screen. 

A clip of you running down the field in your flowy dress starts the video, the camera zooming in on your figure when you twirl and skip around in the tall grass, and then you laugh over the background music, the sound making you gape in surprise. You didn’t know your laugh sounded like that, and with the hazy coloring of the clips and the solemn, youthful atmosphere Donghyuck managed to capture in the video, you find yourself thinking the sound was kind of beautiful. 

Then the clip cuts into another one– and you widen your eyes at the sight, because Donghyuck told you he’s only going to include the clips from the field, and you believed him, well, because you never saw him record anything else– as the screen shows you a bunch of moments, all wordless, of you just going on with your life. The very next one is of you arriving to class late, a grumpy expression playing with your features. You didn’t notice Donghyuck filming back then, when he offered you a cup of coffee as you laid back on the desk, and a fit of giggles erupts around the class at your behavior. The next clip shows you laughing at Aeri’s shoulder in Yangyang’s basement– a couple of clips of that night following, capturing you playing beer pong with your other friends, or taking sips of your beer when you sat down on one of the folding chairs in the corner of the basement– each one showcasing you completely natural, unstaged, and raw. You had no idea anyone was watching you, yet alone taking clips of you. Did Donghyuck have his camera with him all those times? Or was he just taking those with his phone, since you never even noticed?

There’s a clip of you showing him the middle finger through the window when he called you late at night one day. Another one of you driving, and frankly, you don’t even know where you were going, but the sound of you giggling breaks through the speakers and you slouch deeper into your seat, shy at hearing the sound. The very next one is of you sipping at your boba through your straw, and that’s when you realize those were taken by his phone– at least some of them– because you attempt to hide from the lens by showing your palm against it. Another clip shows you digging through bags of McDonald’s take out in the driver’s seat of your car, another one lets you remember the time you went to get fried chicken with him, thinking he’s sending the video he took of you to tease his roommate with the free food he got with someone else back then, unaware that he wanted to use it for the project later. 

There are a few clips that only last a second. You walking a few steps ahead of him– you think it was the time you two went to the mall, you angry with his antics. Another one of you picking out cans of soda from the rack in the convenience store. A clip of you driving, once again, but now the sky is starry and dark, and you remember the night too well, since it wasn’t that long ago. A clip of you glaring at your bangs in the rear view mirror, another one of you staring into your textbooks at the library. 

There’s only one clip that shows Donghyuck as well. It’s one taken without you knowing, much like the previous ones, and how you missed the phone plopped up against the corner of your dashboard, you really don’t know, but the video shows you two in the McDonald’s parking lot, your hand touching his on the gear stick as you show him how to drive. Only then do you notice the flustered look on his face and the nervous laugh he gets out in the clip, the sound making your heart jump in your ribcage. 

The last part of the video is of you walking a few steps ahead of him, his varsity jacket hugging you around your shoulders. It’s the latest clip of them all, and it makes you painfully shy to look at it. The video comes to finish with a few last strums of an acoustic guitar in the background, and you come back to your senses when you feel a hand squeeze your thigh under the table, the whole class erupting into claps. The video was beautiful, and you feel moved.

Although you should be more mad about the fact that Donghyuck took videos of you without you knowing, there is something incredibly moving about the fact that somebody was looking at you and felt the need to capture the moment before it went away. The clips were candid, real, raw, showcasing exactly how the memory went, how your laugh sounded, and how you looked through Donghyuck’s eyes. The video was exactly what it needed to be and more. 

There’s something about the fact that all of the clips were of you that made you feel weak in your knees. If the video was what youth feels like, does this mean you were his youth?

If you felt beautiful in the video, loved the way your eyes crinkled in joy, liked the way your expressions morphed into the purest form of whatever emotion you felt at the moment, did that mean this was the way Donghyuck saw you with his eyes?

“See?” you hear him whisper into your ear, his hand still resting at the top of your leg. “I told you I had a vision. I did a good job, didn’t I?”

You chuckle, then offer him a nod. “I didn’t know you were recording all of those,” you whisper, ignoring the words coming out of your professor’s mouth– surely evaluating your work right now. You don’t really want to hear it, though– you’re sure you’ll pass. After seeing what your neighbor’s capable of, you have no doubts.

“I wanted it to feel authentic,” he peeps, “to the way I see you, I mean.”

“Is this what you meant when you said you’d prove your point later?” you wonder.

“I mean, the fact that I’ve always had the biggest crush on you was supposed to come across when I liked your objectively terrible haircut you got at the beginning of the term, but yes,” he admits, sheepishly smiling.

“Okay, uncalled for,” you shrug off his hand from your thigh, to which he giggles and captures your limb with his again, interlacing your fingers. He sways your hands back and forth, offering you a soft look that drives you slightly insane. After all of this, you’re really not sure what you were so afraid of.

“How does that roadtrip sound right now?” 

“Still absolutely terrifying,” you note. 

“Even if I pay for gas?” he laughs.

Squinting at him, admiring the boyish grin playing with his lips, you sigh. “I’ll think about it.”

[em-dash-press]

Grammar, Spelling, and Punctuation: Writing 101

I adored grammar lessons in grade school, but I realized they were specific to the school I was in when I switched school systems.

Not everyone gets to grow up with grammar quizzes and sentence diagram tests. Don’t feel bad if you can’t tell an em dash from a hyphen! Browse this guide and you’ll refresh yourself on everything you need to know.

Note: this is for American English and assumes you already speak it as a first or second language. It won’t explain verbs, nouns, etc. Also, some parts will vary by in-house style guides with various publishers. However, you can use these refreshers to problem-solve your WIP and feel more confident about how you wield your words.

1. Punctuation Around Dialogue

American English grammar rules almost always firmly state that punctuation around dialogue goes inside quotation marks.

Examples:

Wrong: “I don’t want to go to the park”, she said.

Right: “I don’t want to go to the park,” she said.

This rule won’t apply if you’re asking about something someone said. Otherwise, punctuation always goes inside the quotation marks to end what’s being said.

Examples:

Wrong: Did the teacher say, “Do your homework?”

Right: Did the teacher say, “Do your homework”?

Also, dialogue tags always have a comma separating what’s being said from the tag itself. That’s because the tag is an integral part of the dialogue since it identifies who’s saying the spoken words.

Examples:

Wrong: “I love chocolate ice cream.” he said.

Right: “I love chocolate ice cream,” he said.

2. Adjectives vs. Adverbs

Adjectives and adverbs often get confused. They both start with “ad” and describe other words. So what do they mean?

Adjectives are descriptors that apply to nouns.

Adverbs are descriptors that often end in -ly and apply to verbs, adjectives, and other adverbs. (Basically anything but nouns.)

Examples:

Adjective: He is a hairy cat. [“Hairy” describes the noun “cat.”]

Adverb: The hairy cat ran quickly across my yard. [“Quickly” describes the verb “ran.”]

Adverb: He really likes to roam. [“Really” describes the verb “likes.”]

Adverb: Even though we have a very small neighborhood. [“Very” describes the adjective “small.]

Adjectives are also considered stronger descriptors in writing because they’re more specific. Using adverbs occasionally is often fine, but publishers and editors that sift through submissions with a fine-tooth comb don’t like repeated adverb usage when a more direct description could fit the sentence.

Examples:

Adverb: I really enjoy going to the movies.

Stronger verb: I love going to the movies.

3. There, They’re, and Their

People often get these confused because the English language is very confusing. To put it bluntly:

There: a location

They’re: a contraction for “they are”

Their: the possessive pronoun form of “they”

Example:

They’re driving their car to that store over there.

4. Run-On Sentences and Fragments

Run-on sentences go on for too long. Fragments are incomplete sentences.

You’ll know both when you spot them because it isn’t how people normally talk. People pause to collect their thoughts, take a breath, and describe their thoughts in complete sentences (even with slang, the sentences still make sense).

Examples:

Run-On Sentence: She went to work and had a meeting at 11:00 before going to lunch at the restaurant across the street which had her favorite food on the dessert menu so she enjoyed it before going back to work and clocking out at 5:00. [This sentence addresses six different actions in too many phrases for a running list of commas with a conjunction at the end.]

Fragment: Every single animal. [Every animal what? There’s no context, so the sentence is incomplete. Sometimes writers use fragments as creative descriptors if they break grammar rules effectively, but you have to know how to avoid fragments to use them well.]

5. Em Dashes

Ah, the em dash. I’m so biased when it comes to this punctuation mark.

Em dashes indicate a purposeful pause, followed by essential information. They can also distinguish phrases or lists in the middle of a sentence.

Most importantly, they’re the length of an m.

You’ll know you’re using them correctly if you can replace your em dash with a pair of commas, a colon, or a semicolon.

Examples:

I love using em dashes—especially for sentences like this—so I may use them a little too often. [You could replace the em dashes with commas and it would still be correct.]

I couldn’t resist it—Em Dash Press had to be the name for my blog. [This em dash could be a semicolon.]

6. En Dashes

En dashes are the little sibling to em dashes. En dashes are two hyphens long or the length of an n. They point out the range in numbers or time, but can also stand in for “to” or “and.”

Examples:

The war lasted from 1434–1442.

I’ll be at the library from 6:30–7:30 p.m.

The final score was 32–34.

You have a ticket on the Chicago–New York flight tomorrow evening.

7. Hyphens

At this point, you’re likely wondering what’s even left for hyphens to do. The answer is quite a lot.

It’s one dash wide and joins words.

Examples:

Hello, my name is Alvina Stuart-Kelly.

I’m looking for a dog-friendly apartment.

She has a two-year-old child.

Typically, they don’t go after adverbs and don’t join words after nouns.

Examples:

Incorrect: My apartment is dog-friendly.

Incorrect: That child is two-years-old.

8. Commas (Oxford and Otherwise)

Commas are a curse and a gift for writers. Myself included. 

We often use commas that are unnecessary because in our mind, that’s where we’re pausing to breathe or collect our thoughts as we type the sentence.

Sometimes it just feels right to use too many—until it’s time to edit.

There are multiple types of commas. The first is the comma that connects a coordinating conjunction (and, but, or, for, so, yet, nor).

Example:

He’d love to hang out, but he has to finish his homework.

A comma can also go after an introductory phrase.

Example:

When we last spoke, it was still November.

Commas also go around phrases within a sentence.

Example:

My neighbor, who is a great painter, is open for commissions.

Then there’s the Oxford comma, which goes before the coordinating conjunction at the end of a list.

Example:

We need to get paper towels, apples, and flour at the supermarket.

You can also place a comma in between two nouns that are interchangeable.

Example:

The fresh, cheesy soup is delicious.

The cheesy, fresh soup is delicious.

There should be a comma after a conjunctive adverb at the beginning of a sentence if it’s contrasting something.

Example:

I don’t like swimming in rivers. However, I’ll make an exception for you.

Introductory prepositional phrases (you can find a complete list of prepositions below) also get followed by a comma if they’re more than four words long. However, you can put them after smaller prepositional phrases too. 

Examples:

[“After the game” is the prepositional phrase below.]

Correct: After the game we should get milkshakes.

Also correct: After the game, we should get milkshakes.

Also correct: After the game ends tonight, we should get milkshakes.

When a prepositional phrase ends a sentence, you don’t need to put a comma before it because they’re typically describing a verb.

Incorrect: We should get milkshakes, after the game ends.

Correct: We should get milkshakes after the game ends. [“After the game ends” is describing the timing of the verb “get” in relation to the object “milkshakes.”]

9. Prepositions

Prepositions are words that come before a noun, verb, or pronoun to indicate details like the place, time, direction, location and relationship to an object.

There are too many prepositions to list in this post, but you can find a ton of them over on this website.

Examples:

He left ~for college~.

They were born ~in 1972~.

~From September to November,~ I’m going to be very busy.

You’ll know you’re using a preposition incorrectly when it’s essentially dangling at the end of the sentence or can be removed without changing the meaning of the sentence.

Examples:

Incorrect: Where’s the mouse at?

Correct: Where’s the mouse?

Incorrect: He leapt off of the couch.

Correct: He leapt off the couch.

Notably, some uses of prepositions are colloquial. In real-world conversations, you might say things like, “Where are you at?” and that’s absolutely fine. It’s even fine to use them like that when writing dialogue for characters who have a specific vernacular usage of them, like regional or cultural phrasing.

When neither of those are present in the written word, editors will recommend revising your sentences to reflect prepositional usage rules like the ones above.

10. Apostrophes

Apostrophes have a couple different jobs.

First, they show possession when something or someone owns something.

Examples:

That is Henry’s car.

Watch out for the tree’s loose branches.

Apostrophes also go after an “s” if the plural noun has possession of something.

Examples:

The stores’ new parking lot looks much better.

The wagons’ wheels were made of wood.

The classmates’ party just began.

When a plural noun doesn’t end in an s, it usually gets the standard apostrophe before an s.

Examples:

The sheep’s pen needs a repair.

The people’s voice matters.

The women’s shoe section is over there.

Apostrophes join words to create contractions too. Contractions join two separate words to save time, effort, or word count. They’re what most people use in everyday language because contractions are less formal in tone. (I just used one in that previous sentence!)

Examples:

It’s time to go to bed.

They’re making dinner now.

I can’t run very far.

11. Colons

We use colons to make sense of too much information. Basically, they give order to lists, phrases, or titles.

Examples:

They need to call the following guests: Isabelle, Ana, and Richard.

The Urgent Need for Answers: A Call for Solutions to Healthcare Inequities [This would be the title of an academic paper, book, or article.]

We have one thing in common: the desire to write more stories.

12. Semicolons

Don’t be afraid of semicolons; they are here to help you!

Semicolons join two related ideas or clarify lists with multiple long phrases.

Examples:

I ate dessert before dinner; life is about doing what makes you happy. [The second half of the sentence provides clarity or reasoning to the first half. The semicolon could get replaced by an em dash or “, because” if you preferred it that way.]

When I wake up, I brush my teeth with an electric toothbrush; swish a sensitive-teeth mouthwash in my mouth for 30 seconds; and wash my face while I shower. [If you replaced the semicolons with commas, the phrases would be considered too wordy. Semicolons provide more visual order for readers in this context.]

13. Exclamation Marks

Some people avoid ever using exclamation marks. Others use them all the time.

I say that the correct usage depends on the situation.

If an overly enthusiastic, excited kid were telling their friends they were going to Disney World, they might breathlessly say something like, “I just got the best news! My mom got time off of work! So we’re going to Disney World!”

However, if a more serious or laid-back person said they had a good day and wanted to describe it, they’d likely say, “My day was good! I had a great lunch and the drive home was easy.” Finishing the last sentence with an extra exclamation mark would be out of character for them.

You also wouldn’t want to use exclamation marks in formal writing settings, like academic papers or newspaper articles, because it would come across as too casual. But it’s fine if you’re writing a social media post or texting a friend.

As long as the exclamation mark indicates excitement or urgency, you’re using it correctly. Consider who’s speaking and why to figure out if their dialogue would result in more than an occasional exclamation mark.

-----

I hope this helps clarify the basics so you’re more confident about writing your next story. Grammar is complicated and ever-changing (I’m looking at you, AP Style Guide), but you can count on these basics to structure things correctly for your readers.

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 1

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader, Fluff

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Swearing, Period Era Sexism

A/N: Hi guys! This is my first fic in over a year, but I dont know I just wanted to have fun! Also lets be real... i needed these ideas out of my head. Please enjoy, have fun! Have an amazing rest of your day! Hi everyone!!! So this became a multi chapter story! This has been so much fun and I am so excited to see where this story goes! If you are interested in continuing this story, go to my tags and click ‘Interviews for New Beginnings’ there all parts will be together! Eventually I’ll put together a master list for it! Love you guys so much, I’m so glad you guys are having fun!!

You had heard about this job from your cousin Eli. And maybe that should’ve been the first clue that perhaps this may not have been a completely legal or safe or upstanding or above the table or whatever good adjective your parents could come up with position. But you had told Eli that you needed a job! And he did find you one! And your parents should be overjoyed that you will be working in the same “bakery” as a male cousin. It’s not proper for a woman to be working without a family member’s presence… especially where there are other men in the office.

“When you go in there be sure to look strong, but not too strong, emphasize that you’re docile and you want to please him.” Eli had been quizzing you about your skill sets and how you were to behave in the interview the entire walk to “The Bakery”. And while Eli was so sweet and more of a brother than a cousin… you couldn’t keep your irritation at bay.

“Tell me Eli… am I interviewing for the position of personal secretary or personal wh-“

“And don’t be so quick with that mouth of yours! Listen… Mr. Solomons is one of the most important men in Camden. This could be a really big opportunity for you. Being the personal secretary of one of the biggest names in the city can give you a steady income and some real independence! But that means you can’t be so…”

“Myself?” You say with a cocked brow and a bumped hip.

Eli’s eyes lit up as if a child he had been teaching finally understood arithmetic, “yes! Yes exactly! Listen while you’re in front of Mr. Solomons, it’s ‘yes sir’ and no questions asked. Got it?”

You sigh and roll your eyes. It felt like you had had this conversation so many times in different ways. Why did your parents care to educate you so much if you weren’t allowed to use your mind? You had asked your father many times, if God gave you a mouth and brain, why shouldn’t you be allowed to use them? And he was never really able to answer beyond a couple phrases talking about the ‘role of women’. You had just been fired from a doctor’s office due to talking back to an unruly patient. Truthfully, this was your last shot to get real independence. It was either this job… or letting your parents begin the process of finding a husband.

You finally reach the door of the bakery, and Eli turns you toward him to fix your hair and straighten your sweater, “Ok ok. Here we are dearest. Now just follow me, don’t make eye contact with everyone and just… be good.”

You chuckle out a, “Yes mum.”

With a laugh he shoves your arm, and gives his name to the young man standing by the door. With a nod he opens the door and lets you in, quickly following Eli’s steps.

While Eli said you couldn’t make eye contact with anyone he never said you couldn’t look at the bakery. It didn’t take you long to notice that while all the men were wearing aprons… there was a distinct lack of… bread… or anything to do with bread. Soon after this you began to feel that memorable tickle in your nose. Rum you thought to yourself. With a smirk you ran up behind Eli and whispered, “Wow quite the bakery Eli. Does the family know about your little rum house job?”

His face was pale, and he was clearly in no mood to joke. With a huff you returned to your previous pace, and you see that the office is just ahead.

Suddenly you feel the flush in your neck, and begin to steel yourself. You had of course heard about Mr. Alfred Solomons. The King of Camden. The Brave War Captain turned Ruthless Gangster. Eli was not kidding when he said that Mr. Solomons was one of the most important people in the city. He ruled the community. This was not the time and place for your mouth to act up. This was the time to behave and play it safe.

Eli rapped the door of the private office gently, and was met with a gruff, "What now!?"

Eli with a shaking hand opened the door, "Mr. Solomons? It's me Eli I..."

"What the fuck do you want eh? Come on now yeah you interrupt me and just stand there acting like you've been struck dumb by God. Come on!!"

Eli kept stammering, basically useless, so you stepped up, "Mr. Solomons, I'm Eli's cousin. I'm here for the secretary position."

Mr. Solomons eyebrows furrowed, looking you up and down. You couldn't help but feel like a child in front of his stare. Fiery, discerning, and just plain terrifying. "You said you're here for what?"

"The secretary position. My cousin said you were in need of a secretary."

Mr. Solomons looked at Eli and looked at you, "And you think you're qualified for a secretary position?"

The heat in your chest started to grow. And you could feel your temper begging to be let out. But you had to make a good impression. You needed this job. You needed to be sweet and to behave.

You nodded, "Yes sir, I can assure you I am I-"

"I'm sorry treacle but this simply will not do." Mr. Solomons cut you off. "What I am doing here right? I'm running a legitimate business. I am running something very difficult that little girls like you simply could not deal with yeah? Now run along and go do whatever young girls do yeah?"

"Mr. Solomons I-"

"Treacle now you're making me a little frustrated right, I said run along now."

You could feel the heat rising and rising, and Eli tugging at your sleeve, "Mr. Solomons if you will just listen-"

Mr. Solomons rose from his desk, "WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE I SAID LEAVE."

"I AM YOUR NEW SECRETARY DAMNIT."

The room went silent. The entire bakery went silent. And from the corner of your eye you can see different men pausing, waiting to see what would happen next.

Alfred Solomons, for the first time in his life, was left speechless. The last woman who had yelled at him was his mother. Usually, women run and hide from him upon the first interaction. Men have wet themselves from his bellowing. Yet... this little woman is standing here, screaming at him, demanding to be heard. He did not know what to do, he could only stare at her.

You tried to be good. You really did try! But it was too late now. Mr. Solomons was just staring at you, and you had a point to make.

"Mr. Solomons, I am the most capable secretary that you will ever have walk through these doors. I am fluent in Russian, Yiddish, Hebrew, and French. Not only can I read and write, I was the best in my class in maths. I am a damn good baker, though clearly you do not need my services there. I am incredibly punctual and polite and am able to talk to anyone. And to top it all off, I make a very good cup of tea. Now I put on my best dress and shoes and I walked 45 minutes to get to your ridiculous office and I will be damned if I will leave here without a job! Do I have your attention now sir?"

While you were speaking Alfred Solomons had slowly lowered himself into his seat, with a smile on his face. He was stroking his beard, considering your fiery eyes, and the shape of your lips while you yelled at him. He began to laugh to himself, "Come sit down treacle. Eli, get the fuck out, stand by the door."

You turned to look at your cousin, but he had already closed the door behind him. You walked to the desk where Mr. Solomons was sitting, and took a seat directly in front of him. Where he had been leaning back in his chair, he was now leaning forward on the desk, resting on his elbows on top of a thick layer of papers. His eyes twinkled, and a handsome smirk played on his lips. Your rage was still simmering, and it was hating you for staring at those eyes.

"You can read and write?"

"Yes."

"How fast can you type?"

"80 words per minute."

"You're good at math?"

"You want to put a slate in front of me and have me recite a King's speech as well Mr. Solomons?"

He barked out a laugh, "Fuck me. You've got a sharp tongue on you don't you?"

"I have language why not use it."

"Fucking hell...alright listen here you little viper. I want you here every morning at 8 o'clock. Ready to work. You will have many a late night in this job. You will be my personal secretary, which means when I say "come here", I better see you before I finish that sentence. You'll need to write letters for me as well as manage my meetings alright? You will be my shadow. Any questions?"

"What is my salary?"

He paused, staring at you, seemingly trying to see how low you would take, "4 pounds a week."

"6"

"Good Lord what do you need 6 pounds a week for? 4 and a half and thats generous."

"Mr. Solomons I'm not stupid I know what you do. You need me. You want to become a respectable businessman you need someone like me to make sure your affairs are in order. I know you are working with many different people, and you need my abilities. I am the best you will ever have. 5 and a half."

Alfred keeps stroking his beard...wondering how the hell Eli could be related to someone so strong... and how much it was going to cost to keep you, "5 pounds a week. And I will give you a Hanukkah bonus."

"...And Rosh Hoshannah off."

"Done."

You stood to shake his hand, firmly, though he kept smirking as he shook yours. "Alright my little viper, I will see you tomorrow. Bring ink and a notebook. We start at 8."

"Thank you Mr. Solomons. You won't regret this!"

"Alfie. You will call me Alfie from now on."

The way he said it while staring into your eyes brought a heat to your cheeks, and you prayed that he couldn't see any change in your demeanor. "Alfie." You whispered as you nodded and walked away.

He couldn't help but linger there in that moment, watching you walk away, speaking animatedly with Eli. Never had he ever felt so... struck by a woman before. He had women before of course, but no woman had captivated him the way you just did. He needed you. He needed you with him, in any way that you allowed him to have you near. Maybe this was a mistake, but he highly doubted it. How could a mistake be so beautiful?

"OLLIE!" He yelled, "WE NEED A DESK AND CHAIR NOW!"

[avelera]

"Don't listen to me, listen. You can find the others if you are brave. They passed down all the roads long ago, and the Red Bull ran close behind them and covered their footprints. Listen! Listen, listen QUICKLY!"

The Butterfly from "The Last Unicorn" by Peter S. Beagle

Was just thinking about this quote today. I think Peter S. Beagle may be one of the most incredible poetic prose writers of all time. His prose was one of the first that made me think that prose was its own form of dark magic.

The above quote is from the film version, but the book version isn't all that different and Beagle also wrote the script for the film, so this stands to reason.

"No, no, listen, don't listen to me, listen. You can find your people if you are brave. They passed down all the roads long ago, and the Red Bull ran close behind them and covered their footprints. Let nothing you dismay, but don't be half-safe."

The core is still there as is the the most important lines:

If you are brave.

What a simple, effective line. It is so powerful I still get choked up. If, the conditional, you, the subject, are, the verb. Brave. I'd argue the reason for its effectiveness is because of how rarely we are called upon to be brave, how huge of a concept it is to be brave. Brave is an adjective but arguably, here, it is an action. It is a course of action. It is a choice. It is not calling bravery inherent, it is not calling the lack of bravery a failure. It is saying that to succeed, the unicorn must make a conscious choice to become something greater than they are. What an incredible call to adventure, how simple and heartfelt it is, because heroism and adventure as mirrored by Prince Lir later, contrasting the empty pageantry of slaying dragons for a princess's favor with the bravery of the unicorn to leave her home behind in order to find her people, and the one who has wronged them.

The other line of deep importance.

They passed down all the roads long ago, and the Red Bull ran close behind them and covered their footprints.

Again, this line is utterly haunting. What is the Red Bull? Where did they go? Down all the roads. The inherent and yet abstract distance implied, the mysticism of the road invoked. Why can they not be found? Because the Red Bull covered their footprints. They were stolen without a trace.

So much information is conveyed in so haunting a manner. It invokes the challenges the unicorn will face, because there is no easy trail to follow and there is no destination given. She will be forced to wander in search without a clear endpoint. It may never end because there are no footprints to follow and there is a huge, unknown, unknowable threat at the end. What is the Red Bull? That will be your antagonist but is it the only one? Or is it just the tool of a greater threat?

If you ever want to see how words can be magic, do yourself a favor and read "The Last Unicorn" by Peter S. Beagle. I could pick out a dozen more lines to gush over but I'll leave it there for now. The book is even more magnificent the film, and the film is indeed magnificent. It's not a very long read. But if I could ever invoke even a fraction of the beauty Peter S. Beagle brings to the page, I will consider myself an immensely accomplished writer, walking in the footsteps of giants.

[fateandloveentwined]

antithetical couplets

chinese couplets for tgcf/mdzs/svsss/2ha in that order (elaboration below):

仙花垂怜，川城倾谢

陈情一曲，忘羡无羁

秋霜垣断，洛水河绵

玉衡微晚墨夜燃，棠雨渐宁苍生渡。

elaboration

tgcf : huacheng x xielian

仙花垂怜，川城倾谢

xiānhuā chuílián, chuān chéng qīng xiè

Heavenly flowers empathise and shed mercy; entire rivers and cities bow down in gratitude.

mdzs : lwj x wwx

陈情一曲，忘羡无羁

chénqíng yī qū, wàngxiàn wú jī

I lay out my resentments and play a piece on Chenqing; I forget my covetings of the world and go out into the wild, untamed.

svsss : lbh x sqq

秋霜垣断，洛水河绵

qiūshuāng yuán duàn, luòshuǐ hé mián

In the autumn frost the walls fall down; in the Luo River the waters flow, unabating.

2ha : mo ran x cwn

玉衡微晚墨夜燃，棠雨渐宁苍生渡。

yùhéng wēi wǎn mòyè rán, tángyǔ jiàn níng cāngshēng dù

The Yuheng star, Alioth, of the Big Dipper dips slightly and burns in the ink-like night; the Haitang flowers rain, gradually calms, and ferries all mortals across the raging seas.

antithetical couplets, or alternatively, the lack thereof. these are known as 对仗 (duì zhàng) in chinese (similar to 对联 duì lián、对偶 duì ǒu you may have heard of), where the number of characters in each phrase are the same, while the position of the noun in the first part of the couplet equates the position of the noun in the second, the verb the verb, the adjective the adjective etc. there's also this thing called 平仄 (píng zè) in which the tonality of the first and second parts of the couplet has to be opposite (terrible explanation sorry for butchering it).

they aren't strictly 对仗 here. words like 绵 is more an adjective than a verb, while 断 is a verb. the 平仄 for the last one (2ha) should work alright, i didn't bother for the other four-char phrases.

Italicised words delineate main character-related words in chinese. It all began with Nirvana in Fire jingsu's "年景靖好，岁月长苏" (nián jǐng jìng hǎo, suì yuè cháng sū) which I loved to bits, and that led to me coming up with all these (very flawed) couplets stringing together character names and relevant things.

rough english translations. again i linked some of the words together in pinyin for easy understanding but officially they should be written apart.

reposted from ao3 on which i have not really written anything.

[goldberrg]

your face

summery : When you tell your best friend Eddie that you haven't been kissed since seventh grade, he offers to kiss you. There's only one catch : you don't know when he'll do it.

part four

You were humming softly to yourself, sorting out the cutlery, trying to put each spoon on top of the other the way mom loved them when Eddie reappeared in the kitchen. You looked at him, eyebrows knitted in confusion. He stole your breath when he came up, slammed the drawer and pinned you to the counter. Before you had time to realize what was happening, he took your face in his warm hands, dark eyes met yours for a moment before they closed.

He kissed you, long, slow and deep. Your hands weakened after you grabbed the kitchen counter in surprise, your hands slid up his chest and lay on his shoulders. You stood on tiptoe and leaned towards him, finally gathering enough intelligence to respond to his movements. It was necessary, sweet and warm, and although it lasted almost thirty seconds, it ended too quickly for your taste.

You squinted for a moment, trying to get your bearings. Eddie's thumb caressed your lower lip. When he finally spoke again, his voice was nothing more than a breathless whisper.

— I um.. — he swallowed hard. — I'll call you when I get home.

And then he left. He awkwardly turned away from you, his sneakers clanking as he hurried back down the hallway and picked up his bag. You heard the front door slam.

You stood frozen in place. Damn it, it was. Wow. Your fingers touched the lips in shock. His lips. They were hot, soft and cracked. Needy. And his hands. they were so rough and warm when he touched your face pleasantly. You needed them everywhere. You needed the warm weight of his body pressed against the counter again. Needed his kisses to intoxicate you.

Maybe because it was so long ago. That's probably why. You just stuck to him like a stupid duckling. That's why you're suddenly so in love with Eddie Munson. Have you always felt this way?

You found yourself wanting to do a lot more than kiss him. You squirmed a little when you left the kitchen, where the air was still too thick for you to breathe properly, and returned to the living room. Trying to calm your heartbeat, you scrolled through the family collection of records. Music. Music will help. The music was distracting. You stopped at an old "Elton John" record and your hands were shaking.

The chorus was just playing in the headphone speakers when your front door swung open again to reveal your best friend, his cheeks were flushed and his curls were wet from the rain.

— Eddie?

He looked a little panicked as he closed the door behind him, politely kicking off his sneakers before approaching you. — I'm sorry. — he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. — It's just me feeling or..?

You nodded, not even needing an adjective to figure out what he meant. Only then did Eddie notice your slight trembling. He took off his wet jacket, threw it on the sofa and pulled you into his arms. He hummed contentedly, stroking your hair. — You're such an asshole, you know that?

You laughed into his curls, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. He soothingly stroked your lower back in the place where he held you by the waist. — What have I done now?

— You've baffled me. My dick literally got hard just from that stupid kiss.

He grinned in amazement, his cheeks turned pink, and your eyes widened.

— That's why I ran the hell out of here. I mean, I was nervous, of course. That was part of it. But I was also going to break out of my damn jeans. — he scratched his head awkwardly, breaking into a smile when you laughed.

— That's what you'll get. — you gave him a little push. — That's what you got for teasing me all this time, asshole!

He groaned, poking you with his nose in a grin. — Yes, yes, yes.

He kissed you again. And it was even better than the first time.

Your hands were buried in his hair, gently pulling them, he was holding your hips. He cursed at the feeling, letting out a low moan. His words burned your tongue.

— Jesus, Y\N. You're not playing fair. — he threw your head back, and you gasped when his lips penetrated the delicate skin of your throat. — You make me feel like I'm in seventh grade.

You laughed breathlessly, letting him suck the light skin just below your ear. You made the most beautiful sound Eddie had ever heard while he was running his tongue over this place, clinging to it. — I.. uh.. so you're staying for "Elm Street"?

He pulled back to admire your beautiful brown eyes. — Oh, baby. I will stay forever.

And he stayed.

[i-translated]

I want to talk about syllable count in English vs Russian, and I'm going to use "Surface Pressure" as an example because of how fucking horrendous the official Russian translation is, let's go.

So English is a relatively simple language, and a lot of its simplicity is owed to how little various grammarical structures affect the modifications of words.

English nouns aren't gendered and only ever go through a transformation when you add a plural. Car - cars, city - cities, etc. Note that an -s at the end is itself a consonant, and in most cases does not influence the syllable count of the word.

English adjectives don't even have plurals. A fast car - two fast cars. The only modifications occur in comparatives (a fast car - a faster car -the fastest car) or in derrived adverbs (a quick move - to move quickly). All of these add only one syllable most of the time.

Verbs go through the most transformations. I move - I moved - I'm moving, etc. You can pair then with auxilary verbs (I have moved), though again in many cases it doesn't influence the syllable count (I move - 2 syllables, I've moved - still 2 syllables, only a bit more of a mouthful).

Now, there are obviously more complex structures out there, this is just a short sample for comparison. Now let's look at what's going on in Russian.

Nouns in plural typically gain at least one additional syllable. Conpare: cat - cats vs кот - коты. An ы is a vowel. A bitch to rhyme, too.

Nouns have cases. For instance: (this is a) house - дом, 1 syllable; (in the) house - (в) доме, 2 syllables.

Adjectives also have cases, and they match the nouns that they are describing. See: (this is a) big house - большой дом, 3 syllables; (no) big house - (нет) большого дома, 5 syllables.

If you have more than one adjective in a row, all of them have to natch the case of the noun they're describing. See: big pretty house - большой красивый дом, 6 syllables; (no) big pretty house - (нет) большого красивого дома, 9 syllables.

Verbs are even worse. There's no gerund, so every instance of it in English is a separate sentence. For instance: I saw him running - Я видел, как он бежал (lit. I saw how he ran). It's almost always at least two additional syllables, if not more.

Present participles get even longer. I need a separate bullet list just to demonstrate. Compare:

I run (2 syllables) - я бегу (3)

Running (2) - бегущий (3)

Running by (3) - пробегающий (5)

(A girl) running by (3) - пробегающая (6)

(To the boy) running by (3) - пробегающему (6)

And these are just the simplest examples. There are English infinitives that turn into whole Russian clauses (I want you to go - я хочу, чтобы ты ушёл). There are simple, everyday use words that are just longer on average, like:

If (1) - если (2)

When (1) - когда (2)

Which (1) - который (3)

This (1) - это (2)

Why (1) - почему (3)

Because (2) or 'cause (1) - потому что (4)

I could go on. Then there's also the fact that Russian is very phonetically consistent, meaning there's little to no phonetic reduction. You can't y'all'd've your way our of a long ass sentence. You have to work with it.

So here's what you end up with.

On one hand there are Russian-to-English translations that are short on syllables and you have to pull them out if your ass to fill up those bars. Not saying there isn't an occasional tight squeeze - Russian too can be concise and punchy in a non-verbose way - but to me the space within the lines seldom feels too cramped. You may phrase something in an unnecessarily complicated way or add a word that wasn't in the original, but as long as you stay humble and remember your role as a translator, you can do the original justice with minimal errors.

On the other hand you have English-to-Russian translations that always - and I do mean always - have too many fucking syllables. This is arguably much worse. One's ass may very well be a bottomless pit to pull words from, but you can't stuff them back in. Those syllables aren't going anywhere. You have a sentence on your hand and you can't cut any of that sentence without losing a part of its meaning.

If you've been following the logic so far, you're probably asking yourself: so what the fuck am I supposed to do with all those leftover syllables? That's a very good question! I ask it every day. It's agony.

Here are a few methods I've learned to utilize.

Sentence-slicing. Sometimes you can't match the lines exactly, so you step on the next oine until you get obe with some breathing room and "catch up". You can't do this too often or for too many lines in a row because the translation starts to "fall behind", but there are times when you can get away with it.

Wordplay! It's pretty hard to pull off in Russian but you totally can, and it feels amazing when you pull it off. Why use two words when you can use one with a double-meaning?

Use thesaurus. And if that don't work? Use more thesaurus.

Sometimes things will get cut. You must accept it. Not every metaphor can be translated. Not every rhyme can be preserved. Some words will have to be changed. This is very important to understand. A good translator must take responsibility for every meaning they twist. They must analyze the material on more levels than just literal and linguistic in order to accurately transfer it into another language with minimal, acceptable losses. I cannot stress enough how hard and how important this is.

Now, let's talk about "Surface Pressure".

The original lyrics were written by Lin-Manuel Miranda, and I don't fucking care what anyone says, this man got bars. It's kind of a trend to poke fun at Hamilton, but In the Heights won a ton of awards, and nobody fucking says the songs in Moana were bad, do they? Point is, I like his lyrics. They're extremely good. Great job, Mr. Miranda.

The Russian translation I'm going to be tearing to shreds today was, from what I could find with tough fucking luck, made by Disney Character Voices International, Inc.. This is only to say a studio approved it. I'm not harping on, like, one little guy. There were corporate decisions made there.

I'm also gonna compare it to my own translation because I just think that it's better. It's not perfect by any means, but then the bar is already pretty damn low.

With all that out if the way, lets read some lines! Out of order because this is my post and I can do what I want. Exhibit A.

"It's pressure like a drip, drip, drip that'll never stop // Pressure that'll tip, tip, tip 'til you just go pop" is a line from the chorus that gets repeated a few times. I likeit because it's cute, evocative, and alliterative - it creates a particular "beat" sound by using frequent consonant repetitions "drip-drip-drip" and "tip-tip-tip".

The original translation gives us: "Давит тебя вниз-вниз-вниз и всё ближе дно, Давит тебя вниз-вниз-вниз, выплыть не дано" - lit. "Pushes you down-down-down and the bottom gets closer // Pushes you down-down-down, it's impossible to surface". It's not the worst offender but the alliteration is gone to fuck, now it's "down-down-down" in both lines and sounds pretty repetitive.

I did it like: "Давление по кап-кап-капле прижало грудь // Тянет тебя вниз, вниз, вниз, не даёт вздохнуть" - lit. "Pressure by drip-drip-drip(drops) pressed your chest // Drags you down-down-down, doesn't let you take a breath". The first line is actually a wordplay, "кап-кап-кап" (kap-kap-kap) is the sound water droplets make, and "давление по капле" or "pressure by drops" is a lowkey classic metaphor for continuous strain on one's nerves. The line also isn't tautologic because it uses two different words for pressure.

I wanted to keep more of the origial meaning but "pop" did not translate. Couldn't imagine what one would say instead. Хоба? That's so rustic.

If you're thinking "it's not too bad" then we'll get there when we get there. Exhibit B.

"Diamonds and platinum, I find 'em, I flatten 'em // I take what I'm handed, I break what's demanded, but-" is one of my favorite lines in the goddamn song. Notice how the first line has a quadruple rhyme? So fucking crisp and juicy. Fuck yeah!

The original translation gives us: "Тверже бриллианта, сильнее Атланта // Я всем помогаю, я строю-ломаю, но-" - lit. "Harder than diamond, stronger than an Atlas // I help everyone, I build and break, but-" and y'all this is so cringe. What's up with "I help everyone"? It's so childish, it doesn't fit the tone of the song at all. All the rhymes in the second line are verb rhymes which is the laziest, most childish, most unoriginal type of rhyme in the entire goddamn language. Seriously. Silver Age poets are turning in their coffins right now. Good fucking heavens "Строю-ломаю" what a Care Bears ass phrasing. Also, Atlas? Really? Go off ig but I think that's just cause they couldn't find another rhyme for diamond and didn't even try for platinum.

I did it like: "Бриллианты и платина - вызов под стать, а мне // Брать что дают и ломать что некстати, но-" - lit. "Diamonds and platinum are a challenge to match (me), I have to // Take what I'm given and break what's not right (what's amiss, what's unneeded, neither here nor there)". So the quadruple rhyme still couldn't be preserved (sorry Mr. Miranda) but I did manage to rhyme platinum, and I kept the "I take what I'm handed" line in a way, which I feel is very important? Like, in the context of the song? It refers to her literally carrying physical items as a part of her work and to her metaphotically "taking" shit from her family that was pressuring her, and it reads both ways in translation too, it's kind of like "be content with what you're given", it's very in-character, I feel like. I did lose rhymes though. Can't be helped, I suppose.

"It's still pretty okay-" EXHIBIT C:

"Pressure like a grip, grip, grip, and it won't let go // Pressure like a tick, tick, tick 'til it's ready to blow" - another line from the chorus, very good alliteration still, very steady rhythm, very evocative, I kiss this song on the mouth if you even care.

The original translation throws at our face: "Давит тебя вниз-вниз-вниз, это нелегко // Давит это, тик-тик-тик, взрыв уже недалеко" - lit. "Pushes you down-down-down, it's not easy // Pushes means tick-tick-tick, the explosion is already near". I fucking hate "it's not easy" for how stupidly blunt it is, I hate that "tick-tick-tick" no longer has as strong of a metaphorical connection, I hate that they repeat "down-down-down" for the third goddamn time, but y'know what? I could forgive all that if they haven't broken the rhythm. Allow me to illustrate.

Slashes are stressed, Us are unstressed, the dash is a skipped beat.

Do you see the extra syllable? Do you see it? I see it. I lose my sleep because of it. This isn't, like, a classic translation liberty. This is legit a mistake. They just said Fuck It, Who Give A Shit. Well, I does. I gives a shit

I did the line like: "Давление как взять-взять-взять и держать в тисках // Давит будто тик-тик-тикает и бабах!" - lit. "Pressure like to grab-grab-grab and hold you in a clamp (a vise? what's it called, the scary construction tool) // Pushes as if tick-tick-ticks and kaboom!" So... Ticking is a verb now! And a bit of a wordplay, too. My line is actually one unstressed syllable short but it doesn't break the rhythm because you can, y'know, stretch the previous syllable. Cause it's a song. And you do that in songs. Also the next beat is the one you skip anyway. God, I sound so arrogant but this is just so much better.

So I actually didn't check the official translation at all when I made mine, but there's a part we did very similarly but the official one is just... Clearly worse? Okay, hear me out. Exhibit D.

"Who am I if I can't carry it all? If I falter..."

The original translation presents: "Кто я, если всё не потяну? И вдруг дрогну..." - lit. "Who am I if I can't carry everything? And suddently falter..."

My version is: "Кто я, если всё не потяну? Если дрогну..." - lit. "Who am I if I can't carry everything? If (I) falter..."

Pretty straight-forward but I'll explain. My issue is with the "If I falter" part.

So. Mine is pretty word-for-word, the official one adds a "suddenly" in there. Why, I don't fucking know, but it's not thematically terrible abd doesn't step on the meaning of the line, so whatever. But.

But! I know y'all can't read cyrillics so let me translit that real quick.

First, my version: Если дрогну - Yésli drógnu

Now the other one: И вдруг дрогну - I vdrúg drógnu

This isn't, like, critical, but if you look at the consonants on the second one, it's just VDRGDRG

I mean, fucking hell, right? I'm a native speaker and it's hard for me to say out loud. Why did they feel like it needed to be there? Why did they not just translate literally this one time where a word-for-word translation would fit perfectly? Who thought this soft gentle fade-out part needed to sound like a steel bolt in a cheese grater? Top fifteen questions that keep me up at night.

We're getting to the really bad ones.

So, the verse repeats the phrase "under the surface" a few times and rhymes on it. Like, a lot. It's very impressive and I love it.

Me, I'm a madman who loves pain and suffering, so I translated it as "сказать открыто" lit. "to tell openly" and then stayed up all night rhyming on Ы.

The official translation, however, hates to use its brain, so it went with "на самом деле" lit. "actually" and then rhymed with fucking. Nouns in the same case. Like some type of kindergarten.

I'm gonna list a bunch of lines that use this bit so I wanted to get that out of the way. Now, exhibit E.

"Under the surface, was Hercules ever like 'Yo, I don't wanna fight Cerberus'?" is a line I like for it's rhyme and dislike for something else I'll tell you in a bit.

The official translation smacks me upside the head with: "На самом деле, а мог ли Геракл сказать: 'Подвиги мне надоели'?" - lit. "Actually, could Heracles say 'I'm tired of (heroic) feats'?" which breaks the rhythm again and follows neither the original nor the music, but is overall okay if you don't count how childish it all sounds.

I did it like: "Сказать открыто Геракл не смог бы, что, мол, этот подвиг претит ему." which is actually a wordplay, so a literal translation would do something like "To tell openly, Heracles couldn't (tell openly) that he's sick of this (heroic) feat".

Note how we call him Heracles, not Hercules. That's cause that's his fucking name in the myth.

He didn't fight Cerberus either, he tamed him.

Also my translation follows the beat of the song, at least. Fucking hell of a line.

Okay, ready for the worst goddamn line ever? Meet exhibit F.

"Under the surface, I'm pretty sure I'm worthless if I can't be of service" is a hella powerful line to me personally.

Let me show you my version first this time, it goes like: "Сказать открыто, невыносимо стыдно, что я непродуктивна" - lit. "To tell the truth, (I am) unbearably ashamed that I am unproductive". It's not the prettiest line but it's solid enough.

The official translation curses my fucking bloodline with: "На самом деле, я каждый день недели стараюсь быть при деле" - lit. "Actually, every day of the week I try to be at work". You don't need to speak Russian to notice that within the span of a line these people actually and with full seriousness rhymed "деле" and "деле".

"Well maybe it's just a different word" no it's not.

It's the same word.

They rhymed on the same word.

I actually wanted to add more but Tumblr glitched and posted instead of saving to drafts. I think it's good like that. We're done here.

[ranahan]

Mando’a tense/aspect/mood

This is where I’m currently at with my reinterpretation of Mando’a TAM. I’m not 100% satisfied yet (there are still a number of open questions like if and how the tenses combine, how exactly should fronting the particles be interpreted, etc.) so I might continue changing things later, but I figured I’d throw this out here on the off chance of getting some opinions or thoughts. I’d especially like to hear if you think something doesn’t work.

This post is something of a continuation of this previous post about TAM systems in creole languages and how they compare to Mando’a. And obliquely this one where I lament the fact that Mando’a doesn’t have a perfective/completive aspect. But then I had the thought that many languages conflate certain tenses and aspects. Like languages typically don’t have a gazillion different tenses and moods and different particles or conjugations for each. Instead they usually have a handful of different tenses/aspects/moods that make certain salient distinctions, but conflate others. Perfect tense/aspect is maybe the most familiar example, conflating past tense and perfective/completive aspect. So instead of coming up with new tenses, I started thinking about how the canon ones work and all the different ways natural languages combine and distinguish tenses/aspects/moods.

And just to be clear, this is me thinking about possible ways to do TAM in my version of Mando’a grammar, not an analysis of canon Mando’a. My goals are to make it

at least superficially compatible with canon (i.e. to not overtly contradict the canon corpus or how Mando’a speakers have already learned to do things)

not a code for English (because that’s boring)

more fully functional grammar (that allows expressing more complicated ideas)

My current (re)interpretation is that Mando’a has five tenses (one unmarked and four marked) and four moods (one unmarked and three marked). Like many natural languages (including English), Mando’a somewhat conflates tense and aspect. TAM are expressed by preverbal particles, many of which can attach to not just verbs, but adjectives and nouns as well. They can also be fronted, and so they’re not very tightly bound to the verbs.

Tense

English tenses situate an event relative to the time of the speech act (frame of reference). When I say “I ran”, I mean I ran before the time of speaking about it just now. This is called absolute tense, i.e. it’s absolute in time. However, Mando’a tenses are relative: they situate an event relative to the frame of reference, i.e. time is relative to the topic I’m talking about, not the time when I’m talking. If I’m talking about what happened yesterday and I say “I ran”, I mean I ran before whatever happened yesterday. And if I’m talking about something that happens tomorrow and say “I ran”, I mean I will have run before whatever happens tomorrow.

Why? Because what Traviss says about Mando’a tenses (that colloquially mandos don’t use tenses and tenses were invented to deal with aruetiise) doesn’t make sense—mandos wouldn’t be making business deals with outsiders in Mando’a. However, this interpretation would produce exactly the kind of confusion with and seemingly optional usage of tenses that Traviss describes.

Present (unmarked)

The present tense is unmarked. In English, it can be translated as present or simple past, or even simple future. “I am leaving”, “I left”, and “I will leave” can all be expressed by the present tense. This is why outsiders might think Mando’a colloquially doesn’t use tenses or that tenses in Mando’a are optional.

Ni ba’slana. I am leaving.

Ni ba’slana kar’tuur. I left yesterday.

Ni ba’slana nakar’tuur. I will leave tomorrow.

The present tense can also refer to an ongoing event that is still relevant to the present moment:

Ni ratiin kar’tayli kaysh sa ruusaanyc. I have always known them to be reliable (and this is still true).

Past (ru, r)

Or technically, anterior tense or relative past. The anterior tense places the event before the frame of reference. In Mando’a, it is used for things that happened before the frame of reference or things in the past that are relevant now. The closest English translation would be “had done” or “had been doing”.

It is somewhat conflated with perfective/completive aspect. The completive aspect marks an event that is complete(d) or a past event that’s relevant to the current topic. They share at least some semantic overlap, which is how the conflation of past and perfective = perfect happens in many languages.

The relevance to the topical time could be resultative:

Ni epa tiingilar. I am eating tiingilar. Or, I ate (some) tiingilar.

vs.

Ni r’epa tiingilar vaal val olaro. I had already eaten the tiingilar when they arrived. (implication: and there was none left)

Ru’pitati. It has been raining. (implication: and it’s now wet)

Tion gar r’epa? Have you eaten yet? (Implication: are you hungry now?)

Perhaps even: Kaysh ru’nari’bat beskar’gam. He’s wearing beskar’gam, lit. “he has put on beskar’gam (and is still wearing it).”

The past tense can also express completion (especially when combined with adjectives):

Kai r’epayc. The food has been eaten up. (Implication: and there’s no food left)

Jetiise droten ru’trattoko. The Republic has fallen.

Tion gar vaabi bic? Did you do it? — Ni vaabi bic, a… I was doing it, but… vs. Ni ru’vaabi bic. I have done it. (Implication: and it is finished.)

Or an experiential sense:

Ni ru’seni. I have flown (I have done it before).

Ni r’akaani, ru’tal’onidi, ru’pir’ekulo par ibic—nu draar ba’slana ni. I have fought, worked my ass off and shed tears for this—I’m not leaving for anything.

Future (ven)

Or technically, posterior or relative future marks events that happen after the frame of reference. In Mando’a, it describes events that will happen in near future or are about to happen; future that’s relevant to the present, immediate, or known to be certain or inevitable.

It is somewhat conflated with inceptive/prospective aspect. The inceptive is the mirror of the perfect aspect: it marks a future event that is relevant to the present moment. In English, the future tense could be translated as “going to”, the inceptive as “start to”, the prospective as “about to”.

Val ven’olaro. They are coming. (Implication: they are already on their way.) / They will come. (Implication: I know they will.)

Ni ven’ba’slan’at bora. I’m about to leave for work. (Implication: so be quick about it because I’m in a hurry.)

Ni ven’kyramu gar. I’m going to kill you. (Implication: and that is a promise.)

Ven’pitati. It is starting to rain. / It will rain (soon). / It’s going to rain (later).

Vaal ni sirbu jii, gar ven’viini. When I say now, you will start running.

The future tense can also be used to express inevitable, natural or logical consequences:

Ca ven’shekemi tuur. Night will follow day.

Distant past (wer)

Something that happened long ago and is no longer relevant; something that used to be true but no longer is; also stories and myths that aren’t necessarily historical facts. Best translated as “long ago”. Rarely used, mostly in some stock expressions and storytelling.

Using wer as a distant past particle (like in wer’cuy) would nicely mirror ret as a distant future. There’s no immediately useful and logical aspect to conflate it with though, so perhaps it’s rare in everyday use.

Wer’cuy. It was ages ago. (Cuyi on it’s own beginning a sentence is translated as “there is…” or “it is…”). Also used in the sense of “once upon a time…” literally “a long time ago there was…”

Ay, ni wer borari ogir. Oh, I worked there ages ago. (Implication: and I no longer do & it’s no longer relevant to the present moment.)

Wer’cuy kih gi’ka. Gi’ka ane kihne be gise o’r ani sho’cye… Once upon a time, there was a tiny little fish. The little fish was the smallest one of all the fish in the entire sea…

Wer’cuy ni bal ner vod hiibi ibic bora—bal iba’bora… Ages ago me and my mate took this job—and what a job it was…

Wer’laar, myth, song of the eons past (lit. “eon-song” or “song of eons”)

Wer’uliik, mythosaur (lit. “long-ago beast”), the long-extinct megafauna of the planet Mandalore

Distant future (ret, re)

Far off, uncertain future; conflated with irrealis mood. Events that might or might not happen or have happened, including the far off future. Conflating these two senses (uncertainty/irrealis and far future) comes from my interpretation of Traviss’s statements about the nomadic mindset of uncertain future and canon expressions like ret’urcye mhi.

Basically mandos consider anything that isn’t imminent to be not written in stone yet. Another way to look at it would be to say they have two future tenses that are differentiated by the certainty of the event happening or the speaker’s degree of belief in it: ven for certain future, ret for uncertain future.

Ret’urcye mhi. Maybe we’ll meet again.

Ni ret slana. Maybe I will go / I could go / I would go / I might go one day.

Mood

Insert some mnemonic about 4 i’s.

Indicative (unmarked)

The unmarked tense that expresses realis mood i.e. things that are real or factual in some way.

Indicative/present tense is also used for expressing general truths:

Par ibic jorbe gar nu kyranu mando’ade, aruetii. For this reason you cannot wipe out Mandalorians, outsider.

Irrealis (ret, re)

Expresses things that aren’t known to be true. Literally “maybe, perhaps”, but can also be translated as might, could, etc. See above.

Ret ni slana. I might go.

Tion’ad ven slana? Who’s going to go? — Ret ni slana. I could go. (Or just ret ni, I could.)

Re’tracyuuri, ret’nu’tracyuuri—nu’baati ni. Shoot or don’t shoot, it’s no concern of mine. (The re’ form would be used before oral stops, I think.)

Imperative (ke, k)

Expresses commands and exhortations. Mando’a uses the direct imperative much more liberally than English—it isn’t considered rude at all.

Ke davaabi ke’gyce rol’eta resol! Execute order sixty-six!

Ke’dinui’ni paak, gedet’ye. Pass me the salt, please.

Direct commands can be very clipped:

Ke’mot! Halt! (lit. “stand!”)

Ke’serim! Take aim! (lit. “be accurate!”)

Ke buy’cese! Helmets on! (lit. “helmets!”)

The imperative can express direct commands, but it can also be used (especially in first/third persons) to express exhortation or jussive mood, similarly to English “let”, “should” or “ought”.

Ke mhi slana. Let’s go. (lit. “let us go”)

Ret mhi ke’slana. Perhaps we should go.

Ke slana, ad’ika! Go on, lad!

It can also be used to express commands to a third person. Formal imperative in third person would be common in written orders & legislation.

Ke kaysh vaabi bic. Have him do it.

Kaysh k’olaro. He should come. / He ought to come.

It’s also used in some subjunctive expressions:

Cuyi jaonyc kaysh ke’vaabi bic. It is important that he do it.

Not entirely sure if it shouldn’t be ke kaysh vaabir bic & cuyi jaonyc kaysh ke’vaabir bic… When exactly should the infinitive/conjugated verb be used is one of those unanswered questions of mine at this point.

Desiderative expressions:

(K’)Oya Mand’alor! Long live the king!

Ke’cin’ciri! Let (it) snow!

And it can be used in conditional if-then statements:

Meh ni mand’alor, ke ni toryc. If I were Mandalore, I would be just. (lit. “I should be just”)

Par cuyir rang, ke’cuyir tracyn. In order for there to be smoke, there has to be a fire.

In questions it could be translated as should:

Tion ni ke’ba’slana? Should I leave?

Fronting the imperative particle usually makes an exhortation:

Ke mhi slana. Let’s go.

Ke mhi gal’gala. Let us drink to that.

Ke kaysh olaro. Let him come.

Interrogative (tion)

Forms questions. Note that the interrogative particle doesn’t affect word order—no need to invert word order like in English.

Tion gar slana? Are you going?

Tion’ad slana? Who’s going?

Tion’vaii gar slana? Where are you going?

Tion’vaabi gar? What are you doing?

Tion’ad gar kyramu? Who did you kill?

Tion’ad nyni gar? Who hit you?

All the examples we have from canon front the interrogative particle, but I wonder if you couldn’t optionally insert it in place of the word it’s replacing in the sentence, like Mandarin does:

Gar slana tion’vaii? You’re going where?

Gar tion’vaabi? or Gar vaabi tion? What are you doing?

Gar kyramu tion’ad? You killed who?

Nominal TAM

And since Mando’a can attach verbal prefixes also to nouns, here are some nominal examples:

Riduur is your spouse, ven’riduur is the person you are going to marry and is understood to refer to a specific person and impending marriage vows. Ret’riduur however would be more like a hypothetical spouse, the person who would be your spouse if you were ever going to marry someone, or perhaps someone you haven’t discussed marriage with yet (and don’t know their answer).

Buir is your parent, dar’buir is the person who is no longer your parent, and wer’buir is your ancestor (one who you’ve never met—if you had personally known them, you’d use ba’buir or even ori’ba’buir instead).

[slayingfiction]

Creating Your Fictional Language AKA Conlang

Hi Everyone!

As I am working currently on a conlang for my WIP, I thought I might post about the steps for anyone else thinking of going above and beyond in their world building to create an entirely new language.

First: if you don’t want to create your own language but need one for your WIP, there are many online generators that will do it for you. My favourite is vulgarlang.com and it comes with a free demo version.

Before we begin:

IPA: learn all about the International Phonetic Alphabet. This is when you will be deciding which sounds will be present in your language.

Study existing languages to get an idea of all the ways you can design your alphabet and language. This will give you an idea for grammar, punctuation, sentence structure etc.

Getting Started:

Name your language.

Make your alphabet. This can mean creating your own drawings for sound, or using an alphabet that already exists. You can make an alphabet, each symbol representing a particular sound (up to about 50 usually) , a syllabary which represents a syllable (up to about 100) or pictographs (hundreds needed).

Create words by putting your sounds together. Try combining words to make new but similar words. For example, any is an indeterminate word, and where is for a place, anywhere being a compound word being a place that does not have a pre-determined location.

Order your sentences. English has an order of subject-verb-object (the dog ran after the ball), while in Japanese they use subject-object-verb. Once you choose an order for where your words fit into your sentence, be sure to always follow the pattern as to not be confusing later on.

Make grammar rules. These are the rules that dictate your language, and if you are following the steps, you will have already started. Does your language have plurals? How many ways can your verbs be conjugated? Is your punctuation the same as in English?

Start creating your dictionary, and be sure to always write it down and keep notes, or you won’t remember.

Practice. Practice. Practice. Create new documents using your language, writing journals entries, translating books or try speaking it out loud. Get to know your language.

For languages similar to English, here are the word classes to help you start choosing which words you need translated: nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, prepositions, pronouns, determiners/articles, interjections and suffixes. Please note, not all languages have these classes, and your language may not require them either.

Things to remember:

Making a symbol equal to English letters and writing English words with your new alphabet is a cypher, not a new language.

The shape of your creature’s mouth will determine the sounds they can make. That being said, if you make a language too hard to pronounce or remember, no one will be able to learn it. You probably want your new language to be useable.

Homophones are words that sound or are written the same, but have different meanings. This happens all the time, just be careful when using similar words, people will confuse them often. This could mean your character learning the language can make people laugh with silly comical mistakes, or insult an entire race.

Your conlang will, and should, have words that don’t translate to English, and that’s ok. A fantasy world will likely have many different words that we are not accustomed to for things like weapons, or food or instruments we don’t have.

Implementing the language into your WIP is an art. You want the language to come naturally to native speakers, but using too many words too quickly will draw attention away from your words, and your reader will start to skip them. Try putting in a dictionary at the start of the book for reference, and slowly growing your readers knowledge without overwhelming them. No one wants to try to remember a new language while also getting to know your characters, environment and plot.

Keep in mind, all languages have slang and idioms. There may even be several dialects of the language, similar to English. Don’t forget, you also need a new name for their currency. These are all things you need to consider when creating your language.

You need about 800 to have conversational basics and over 8000 words to be a native speaker of a language. No matter where you end up, you need to start somewhere.

Hopefully this is helpful to someone! If something I wrote is wrong, please let me know so I can change it :) Any questions, comments or concerns, message me or leave them below!

Happy Writing

[thepenultimateword]

Broken Wings and Parcel Strings

“I won’t ask you to stay,” Protagonist said, staring up into the treetops.

The miracle rolled onto her side, wings readjusting on her back as she stared straight on into Protagonist’s face. Dappled light streamed between the branches overheard, catching in gleaming strands of coppery hair.

“Tired of me already?”

“Don’t tease.” Protagonist rolled away from her, seeing her so beautiful and impossible beside him while also knowing the inevitable beyond made his chest ache. “I know it wouldn’t be fair to ask.”

Soft fingers ran through his own ashy mane, too drab to be silver or starlight or any of the other adjectives she flattered him with. “If it helps, you feel closer to home than anything else I’ve experienced.”

Protagonist smiled, but the words didn’t breach the stony fortress he’d already built around his heart. “You probably say that to all your lovers.”

She snorted. “Pray tell, who are all these lovers?”

“I don’t know, I just assumed… You go everywhere and meet everyone, it can’t just be me.”

The miracle wrapped her arms around his middle, spreading her feathered wings to full span before settling them overtop him. From the waist up, they both laid enclosed in dim, clean scented warmth. “Would you prefer me to have others? Would it make it easier to know I leave lots of people?

“No.”

“I do leave many people. Friends, teammates, ties stronger than bloodlines. But you may take comfort in knowing there’s no one else like you.”

“But you’re still going.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t ask me to stay.”

“I won’t.” The thought of holding her down, binding this living definition of freedom to one place, one cage, it made him sicker than letting her go. Miracles weren’t meant to be hoarded. “J-just…come back, ok? Now and then. When you can.”

“I always do.”

And she did. 6 months later. In the dead of night during a rainstorm. It was as if the skies were crying just for her.

When Protagonist answer the slow but insistent rapping, he almost didn’t recognize her. First of all, she seemed smaller, head bent toward the ground, arms wrapped tightly around clinging clothes, ears poking out pink from sopping hair. She almost looked ready to seep between the porch cracks with the rain.

He peered sideways at her clenched jaw and empty eyes.

“Miracle?”

She inhaled abruptly. “Can I…stay here?”

The way she said it was almost like she expected him to decline.

“Yes!” he said, opening the door wider. “Yes, of course!”

She slunk over the threshold, and as she dripped into the corridor, he noticed the red stained across her back, sticking her shirt taught between her shoulder blades.

It struck him all at once the real reason she looked smaller.

The wings and the carefree days were gone.

…

(Inspired by the song The Moon is Down by Radical Face)

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii i @deflated-bouncingball l @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia a @bouncyartist t @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 3 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner r @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax x @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin remlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindo @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee

[spanishskulduggery]

Could you maybe talk a bit about when to use "acabar de", "justo" and "sólo"? Thanks!

The short answer is that if you had a venn diagram, acabar de would be on one side, solo would be on the other side, and justo would be the overlap

-

acabar de needs an infinitive for "to just have done something". It reads as "just done" or "recently done", but it's a kind of "past tense adjacent" way to say things

Acabo de leer tu mensaje. = I just read your message. Acabamos de comprar las zanahorias. = We just bought (the) carrots. Me acaban de decir que... = They just told me that...

Also note: acabar by itself means "to finish"; acabarse means "to run out" [like se me acaba el tiempo "time is running out for me"; or se me acabó la harina "I ran out of flour"]. And acabar con (algo/alguien) is "to get rid of" or "to do away with"

-

justo/a as an adjective means "just" or "fair" [it can also be used for "tight" with clothes; different application]

justo as an adverb - unchanging - means "just done something" OR it means "only"

It can be either; justo as an adverb is also used as "precisely" or "right (at that time)"

Lo hice justo después. = I did it right after. Justo ahora... = Just now...

-

The last one is a bit of backstory

solo/a as an adjective means "alone" or "on one's own" or "lonely"

Adverbially solo (or sólo) means "only"; it's that kind of "just"...

Now, you don't need the accent mark for solo anymore. It's sometimes kept for vocal emphasis, the way some people emphasize "only". It used to be used more frequently to distinguish the adjective from the adverbial form, but today you'll see solo more often with no accent mark

You can absolutely include it though

solo/sólo will be used as "only" as in like "just (a certain amount)"... it is used for expressing limitations, so it's not the same as acabar de

Solo hago lo que me digan. = I just do what they tell me. No solo yo... = Not just me... / Not only me... Solo digo la verdad. = I'm just telling the truth. / I only tell the truth.

In some cases you will also see solamente which is "only" but a little more fancy, "solely" which is the expressed adverbial form of solo [the -mente form, if you will]