#I’m just posting them all at once instead of splitting them up like I did last year

[doctorsiren]

sketchbook pages

[neowinestainedress]

wave | lee donghyuck (part two)

part 1 | masterpost | full fic not split in two

pairing: lee donghyuck x fem reader genre: college au, academics rivals to lovers, kinda fake dating, forced to work together on a project, smut, fluff, humor (idk), music major!haechan, music major!mc | not really requested but thank you 💌 anon for the inspo summary: your indifference toward Lee Donghyuck, also known as Haechan, becomes rivalry when he decides to sabotage you. The battle turns into a war, the war turns into a plan, and the plan, well, the plan fails miserably... or succeeds wonderfully. After all, it’s all about points of view. Or, Haechan thinks he found a way to distract you and be better than you, but doesn’t think it thoroughly and screws it up. warnings: smut, weed/alcool consumption, thigh riding, oral (receiving, giving), unprotected sex, teasing, etc | inclusivity notes: reader wears different hairstyles (no mention of texture, type and color), no mention of body type (but haechan lifts her a few times), no mention of skin color, no use of y/n wc: 20.3k (out of 42k)

a/n: here’s the second part. please if you liked it leave feedback (comments, reblogs, asks), i love knowing your opinions and it keeps me motivated to keep posting my writing. enjoy!

After too many dates, too many studying sessions together, and in general too much time spent together —even with his group of friends— you feel like this is a relationship that simply hasn’t been named, yet. Something about everything doesn’t feel like just sex and hate.

You’re fine like this, for once believing you can let loose a little and still do well in your studies.

Haechan, instead, thinks his plan is going amazingly. He knows he has you distracted, he knows he takes away your time, and he knows everything is technically perfect. But the plan is not the best made of his life, and the more time passes, the more he forgets about it, and the more he thinks about you.

He never planned to use you, that had to be clear. He just wanted to distract you with sex —something you both wanted to have— and give you a boyfriend experience so you could write the song in the best way possible. But in doing all that, he is more caught up in you —and not only because of the plan, he is just caught up in you— than in his studies.

It’s nine pm on Sunday after he dropped you home around four pm this afternoon. He made you meet his girl friends too for lunch and then you went back to his place to stay together for a while. But even if you spent almost the entire day together, he still misses you.

He rolls on his back as he goes into his contacts to text you again, he doesn’t have to scroll down, you’re second on the list since he last annoyed you forty minutes ago but you still haven’t replied. 

haechan: can you answer me?

haechan: i miss you : (

haechan: you didn’t even let me eat you out

haechan: you looked so pretty in that skirt i think it looks better with my head underneath it

haechan: fuck and now i’m hard thinking about you

mortal enemy: the only hard thing should be the books you should be studying on, remember we have a test tomorrow?

“Fuck,” he screams, sitting up. ���What?”

He never forgets these things. He always writes them down in his agenda that he maniacally reads every day to make sure he’s always on time with his studying schedule. He can’t have forgotten about it. But, apparently, he did.

His thumb quickly wipes to call you and your answer doesn’t let him wait.

“I’m studying,” you huff annoyed as you pick up his phone call right away.

“Why would you go out with me if tomorrow we have a test?”

Your chuckle reaches his ear through the phone before he gets to hear your voice again. “Why not?”

“Don’t you want to be the top one? What about your grades? This adds up for the finals.” Panic fills his voice, he’s hoping you remembered just now and haven’t been studying since you went back, but you’re too relaxed for that to be true.

“Yeah, I know,” you reply, too calmly for his liking. Was his plan working? No, because you knew about it. And he completely erased the test, too busy thinking about you.

“And you go out?” He asks again as anxiety starts to take over him.

“Why would I lock myself up before a test? It’s not even that serious. There’s the topic you pick, and then like four questions that will surely be the main things we discussed in class, Professor Kim only knows one way of making tests.”

He groans, he can’t believe you’re always so ahead of him. “How do you know these things?”

“I use my brain,” you reply nonchalantly.  

“So you started studying… when you got home?”

“Last week.”

“Last week? Are you kidding me?” He screams so loud that he’s sure you have to move the phone from your ear.

You sigh, rubbing your temples, Haechan knows it, you always do that when he pisses you off somehow. “You didn’t open the book at least once until now?”  

“I…” I would usually read through the notes at least once a week, but I’ve been too busy. “I’ve… I read the notes, until some weeks ago. I got busy, okay?”

“Were you perhaps distracted by something Hyuck?” You ask teasingly, and he can see you twirl the end of your hair in your fingers while your tongue pokes at your cheek.

“Nothing distracts me,” he mutters, frowning even if you can’t see him.

“Then hang the call and try to read the notes at least, I’ll send you the recordings of the lessons, play them all night maybe something will stick to your brain.”

“Okay, bye. Wish me good luck, please,” he says, and you chuckle. “No seriously, don’t manifest against me, I need all your good energy.”

“I will, Hyuck. Just give it a quick read and then try to get as much sleep as possible. You have a brain and you’re smart with it, it’s better for you to be active tomorrow than force information that just won’t get in, alright?”

He hums, weirdly feeling a bit calmer at your words. “’kay, goodnight, babe.”

“Goodnight.”

Haechan sighs, slumping on the bed, boner long gone and anxiety on his chest, until the screen lights up again and a few messages from you show up.

mortal enemy: 10 audios + 10 files ‘music theory notes’ sent the audios anyway but my *perfect* notes should be enough to not make you pull up an all-nighter also don’t stress too much, I appreciate the act of chivalry to make me top this class grades again :;

He forgot about an exam, he didn’t study for it, yet he’s smiling like an idiot because of you.

Haechan’s screwed.

“So, how did it go?” You ask, blocking Haechan as soon as the bell rings and Professor Kim dismisses the class, letting you know the results will be in next week.

Haechan glares at you, and you suck your teeth. “Come on, it wasn’t that difficult,” you say, sitting on his desk, as he looks for something in his bag.

“I did great, I just don’t want to admit your notes are perfect and were enough to save my ass,” he says, and you can’t hold back the smile.

“You’re welcome,” you say, standing up and kicking him playfully with a swing of your hips.

“Hey! You could’ve made me fall,” he jokes, grabbing his bag before taking a step back so you can lead the way out of there. “And thank you.”

You chuckle, lowering your head to hide that dumb grin on your face. “You know, I wanted to ask you why we never revisited music theory but I thought you wanted to do it on your own, maybe you were scheming something against me.”

“What? I would never scheme against you,” he says as you start walking to lunch.

You stare at him with a raised brow, and he huffs. “It was in the past and you did it too. Also, what would I scheme?”

“I don’t know, maybe you sneaked into his office and stole the test to already know the answers?”

“That would be cheating, not beating you. There’s no fun in that,” he says, holding the door of the cafeteria open for you.

“You’re such a fair rival,” you joke as you head to the buffet to grab something to eat.

“Wait,” he stops you when your plates are full. “Why don’t you sit at our table? I hate seeing you eat alone.”

“Have you ever considered I can’t stand how loud your friends are?”

“Oh come on, you already deal with them when you come to my place.”

“Exactly.”

Haechan huffs, standing in front of you to stop you from going toward your table. “We can go to yours today.”

You furrow, lightly tilting your head to the side. “We don’t have anything to study.” You try to decipher his expression and think if you could get so distracted to forget something you had to work on or revisit.  “The song?”

He shakes his head. “I might…” he pauses, trying to find a way to say what he wants to say that’s not so humiliating, but then he gives up with a heavy sigh that rolls from his lips. “Okay, I need help.”

“You?” You scream, attracting some attention on you, and Haechan glares at you, pulling you to the sides so that the curious gazes can linger away from you.

“Yes, me,” he replies through gritted teeth. “It’s just a small thing, but I don’t get it.”

You smirk smugly and he rolls his eyes. “Fine, I can’t wait to tutor you,” you reply, starting to walk to his group of friends’ table.

“Why can’t I ever win with you?” He whispers, shaking his head and following you.

You’re not sure Haechan told you the truth. He is smart but he isn’t the best actor ever, and when he came to your place to try to understand that small thing he didn’t understand in sociology, you were pretty sure it was just an excuse. You explained it in less than five minutes, he got it too quickly and immediately started messing around.

You don’t mind it, though. You enjoy spending some time with him. He’s a good distraction. Surely you would’ve fixed some notes or listened to some lessons instead of… well, instead of being on his lap with your fingers in his hair and his hands on your ass, grinding on him.

You hold in a moan when he concentrates on your neck, kissing, biting, and sucking the spot that makes you shiver. And you’d like to go on like this, but you need more. So you shift on top of his thigh, while yours presses against his hardening dick and makes him growl.

“What are you do—”

“Shh,” you shush him quickly, pressing your thumb on his lips before replacing it with your lips. “Ouch,” you gasp when he bites on your lower lip. “Why did you do that?”

Haechan chuckles, shrugging before leaning close to you again. “Why not?”

You frown but have no intention of carrying it any further. You can feel your panties stick to your skin and you just want to come, not really caring if it’s just like this.

But the moment of intimacy, if you could call it that, gets interrupted by the buzzing of his phone in his pocket.

“God, just answer,” you yell when Haechan ignores the third call but whoever is on the other line has no intention to stop trying.

Haechan rolls his eyes as his right hand leaves your ass to search through his pocket and huffs annoyed when he sees the name on the screen.

“Jaemin, what?” Haechan groans as you keep moving on his thighs, ignoring his deadly glare. “No, I’m busy.”

You faintly make out an angry reply from the other side, but you don’t care enough to understand what Jaemin’s saying.

“No, I can’t go out with you.”

“We can,” you reply loudly enough so that Jaemin can hear while Haechan scowls at you again, muttering a scold under his breath, but his anger is quickly addressed to his friend on the other side.

“Yes, I’m with her,” he huffs, rolling his head back, trying to stop your movements but failing. “Don’t ask questions. And yes, fine, fine.”

When he hangs the call after mumbling a quick, annoyed goodbye, you chuckle. “Thought you didn’t want to hear my annoying friends?” It’s all he asks, leaving a small, teasing slap on your asscheek.

“What were we supposed to do? Stay inside all day?”

“Yes, we have everything here,” he says, spreading his arms to point around. “And you’re still grinding on me.” He looks down, eyes narrowing as he stares at your hips. 

“I’ll finish and then we’ll get out,” you wink, starting to move faster but he has no intention to get back into the mood, not yet, at least.  

“You’ll stain my pants and where do I come?” He huffs, and you’re sure he’s trying to find an excuse to don’t go outside rather than one to don’t fuck with you. He would never say no to that, especially when you two are already in the middle of it. 

“Take them off,” you urge, jumping off him, waiting for him to get undressed as you do the same, your panties the only thing staying on.  “Come on. You don’t want to be late.”

Haechan groans, “you’re so… so greedy. You just want everything.”

“Yeah, am I allowed to have one flaw?” You bat your lashes at him, grinning when his eyes roll in the back of his head. “Oh, will I stain the underwear, too?” You ask when his lower half is completely bare to your eyes.

“Honey, I’m not coming inside my boxers, can’t wear your panties to hang out with the boys,” he says annoyed.

You chuckle, climbing on his thigh again, watching him whimper when your bare leg brushes against his dick and you press on him to be as close as you were before.

He doesn’t know why you didn’t take the panties off, but he knows he doesn’t want them there. He wants to feel you on his skin. As hot as this is, he wants to feel your pussy drip down his thigh, and your panties are stopping the full experience.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Donghyuck!” You scream when the sound of the fabric ripping hits your ears and the chill air of the room hits your warm core.

He groans. “It’s so hot when you say my real name with an angry tone, makes it hard to hold back fucking you.”

“You need to stop ripping my stuff,” you complain, trying to hide how hot you found that, the ripping of the panties and that fucking smirk on his face now that he lays back against the headboard of your bed, so proud and snotty that is hard for you to hold back fucking him.

“Shut up, you love it,” he says, pulling you into a rough kiss, pushing your body closer while his hand rests on your hips to guide you in the movements. “Also they weren’t a good pair, if you were in lingerie I would’ve asked you politely to take them off.”

“You will never see me in lingerie,” you retort, pulling away as your hand sneaks down and starts moving up and down on his throbbing cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, “at least warn me?”

“I’m half naked, grinding on top of you and I have to warn you when I grab your dick?” You ask. “If you don’t want, I won’t make you come.”

“No, just —fuck,” he glares at you when you concentrate on the tip, “don’t be a bitch.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you chuckle but still move your hand quickly, following the steady rhythm of your thighs. Your head rolls back when one of his hands creeps under your shirt and cups your boob, his thumb brushing against your hard, sensitive nipple.

Haechan sucks in a deep breath when your thighs start shaking around his and your cum drips down his thigh. “Fuck,” he moans, eyelids fluttering as he looks at you, head reclined back as you hold onto him with only one hand, the other still busy taking care of him. “This is so hot, you are so hot.”

The compliment pushes you closer to reaching your high and when he lifts your shirt to wrap his lips around your sensitive nipple, you lose it.

You whimper and quiver, hips moving messily as you keep riding your high, breath getting stuck in your throat when he accidentally bites you as his orgasm washes over him unexpectedly.

“Fuck, sorry,” he mumbles, and if you weren’t still so lost in your pleasure you would let him know you liked it.

When your hips still, and the dizzying sensation calms down, you lay your head against his shoulder for a while as his arms wrap around your waist.

“Can we stay in?” Haechan pouts when you try to get away from him, reaching for your hand to keep you next to him before he rolls over when you shake your head and jump off the bed. “Please.”

“We can’t always fuck and study and study and fuck,” you reply, cleaning yourself up, holding in a sigh when you realize he stained the cover of your bed with his cum.  

“Who said I want to do either of those things?” He says, looking up at you with puppy eyes, pushing his lower lip out to pity you.

“I know you,” you reply, glaring at him before pulling your pants back on, not even caring about putting on another pair of underwear, you would’ve had to wash all those clothes anyway after taking a well-deserved shower, but for now you only had to pick some clothes to go out with the boys.

“No, let’s stay in and, I don’t know. Should we sing?” He proposes, jumping on his feet and putting his discarded underwear on.

You laugh, staring at him in shock. “You want to sing?”

“Yeah, you have a guitar, right?”

You nod, turning around the corner where your guitar is.

“Don’t you want to hear my angelic voice?”

You take a deep breath at his brag and then exhale loudly. “But Jaemin?”

“Fuck him, I don’t care,” he says while a small victory grin already starts widening on his face. He knows you’re about to give in.  

You huff, rubbing your temples and giving up fighting him when his fingers are already typing on the phone to tell his friend you two can’t come anymore.

When he puts the phone away and smiles at you in anticipation, you sigh. You really are stuck with him, aren’t you?

“Why don’t we prepare biscuits?” You suggest. You wanted to bake something for a while now, but you never really find time to dedicate to the kitchen.

“Biscuits?”

You nod, stealing his sweatshirt to wear on top of your shirt before walking to the kitchen —that space you consider the kitchen. 

“I’m a mess when it comes to cooking, you know, right?” He confesses as he leans against the countertop, watching you move around to grab all the ingredients and tools you need.

“You? Admitting you’re bad at something? To me?” You ask with a teasing tone, but you’re genuinely surprised he let you know without turning even this into a competition.

He fakes a laugh. “Very funny,” he says. “I just don’t want to hear you complain if I make some mistakes and ruin your perfect biscuits.”

You chuckle. “Can you weigh the ingredients and then put them all in a bowl?”

“All at the same time?”

You nod, handing him what he needs and showing him where the scale is. “Is not that hard, even you can do it. Plus, it will be another thing I teach you today,” you wink.

“Careful, baby. Don’t start thinking you’re so much better than me,” he says, starting to weigh the ingredients and putting them in each separate bowl.

You scoff. “Honey, I won’t start thinking that,” you say, resting your head on his shoulder, “I already think that.” You leave a teasing kiss on his cheek before he hits you with the flour and you gasp.

“Oh, no, we’re not doing that,” you warn, taking a step back, seeing how he’s ready with another handful of it.

“Then take it back,” he says nonchalantly.

“I never take back the truth —oh, Jesus Christ, Donghyuck!”

He laughs loudly, bending forward as he glances at you, flour on your face and well, his sweater. “Don’t call my name like that again, though. I won’t resist this time,” he says when he finally stands up and stands right in front of your face. “Now, will you take it back?”

“Never —Ah!” You scream when he lifts you up without a warning and sits you on the table before he starts tickling you. “No, no, please,” you babble, shaking your head and trying to stop his hands on you but he’s faster. “Okay, fine, I’m not better than you — I’m not better than you!”

“Good,” he says, stopping his torture and smiling proudly. “I love it when you listen,” he jokes, kissing you again.

You should hate it —or at least don’t like it so much— when he kisses you like this, out of nowhere, for no reason at all other than wanting to shut you up, or maybe to feel you. But you truly don’t mind. Actually, you lean in for another one, and another one and another… until you feel this is once again going in another direction and, as much as you’d love to indulge in the moment, you want to prepare those biscuits.

“Enough,” you say, pushing him away and jumping off the table. “No more food waste and we’re doing this together.”

You discover you and Haechan work better in the kitchen than in other fields, maybe because there’s no tension pushing you to do better but you are listening to each other, teaching tricks, and simply having fun. And this atmosphere stays with you even when he grabs the guitar and starts playing the tune of your song, you sing some bits of the lyrics and then jokily propose to add some about baking cookies on a cloudy spring afternoon, expecting him to laugh at it but he just smiles and tells you to go on. And you do, mumbling something about being in the kitchen, humming, baking, and laughing. You think it’s too cliché, and you will surely go back to it obsessively until it comes at you like you want it, but he loves it.

Then the oven rings, signalling the biscuits are ready and none of you can believe they came out good, nothing burned, and they’re tasty. Somehow, those cookies, feel like the biggest achievement you two ever made together.

“Maybe we should stop fighting each other,” he mumbles, after chewing his last bite. “We make a pretty great team.”

You smile, cleaning your lips with a napkin, crumbs falling on the table. “Hate to agree, but we do,” you say. “I mean… we kinda teamed up months ago, don’t you think so?”

“We want to kill each other, and you call that teaming up?”

“It’s our way of teaming up,” you reply, handing him a clean napkin so he can clean himself, and he takes it. “We just like to keep the flame alive, if we stopped bickering at all, it wouldn’t be so funny.”

Haechan shrugs, he guesses so. “Not like anybody else ever stood a chance with us on top.”

You chuckle. “Imagine if someone is using our rivalry to get to the top and we never noticed them.”

“Honey, trust me, I would’ve noticed.”

Once you’re done eating, you push him into the shower. There’s flour, and dough on all your clothes, and you still need to wash off the sex of before. You’d opt to shower separately but you’re tight on water and you have to make the best out of the confined space, reason why his plan to fuck another time fails.

“Why are you wearing my pink robe?” You turn around two seconds to grab the towel you prepared for him, and he betrays you. “This was for you,” you say, holding up the white towel as you stand there naked.

“I already put it on, it’s wet,” he says. “Come on, it’s pretty.”

“Yeah, that’s why is my favourite robe,” you pout, but still wrap the towel around you because you don’t want to freeze.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, and, before you can even think how, you don’t feel the ground under your feet anymore. Your arms immediately wrap around his shoulders for more safety as you let him carry you outside. You have no idea what is going on today, but you like this, how he’s taking care of you —in his way, of course— and how this feels good.

“You have to change it anyway,” he says when he drops you on the bed and, as soon as you open your mouth, he knows you’re about to complain about the wet towel on the dry covers. “I’ll help you change it later.”

While you change into your new clothes, your pink pyjamas with small black hearts as a pattern, you watch him walk around as if he’s so familiar with the place —not that it would take much for anyone to know where everything is, considering how small it is— but something about it makes a feeling of comfort and warmth spread in your heart. Nobody else had ever been inside that place.

But then you snap out of it and realize he’s naked, and his clothes are dirty, so you rush to the closet to find something to give him.

“So, mhh,” you say, making the things you grabbed fall in front of him, who’s sitting at the table. “I have those sweatpants and a sweater, or these pyjamas if you want it, it’s pink, but it doesn’t look like you care much,” you note, looking at how much he’s rocking your robe.

“Pink pjs! We’ll match,” he says, eyes lighting up as he wastes no moment getting out of the bathrobe.

“Out of the kitchen!”

“There’s not even a wall?”

“Still, get out,” you say, pushing him with force away from there. “Better.”

He rolls his eyes but still grabs the shirt and pulls it on him, blinking when he sees a pair of clean boxers. “Why do you have these?” He still studies them, thinking he has seen them before.

“Because they’re yours,” you say nonchalantly while fixing your hair in a braid.

“They’re mine? I left them here?”

“I might’ve accidentally dragged them with me once,” you confess, looking at him with a big, awkward smile.

“When?”

“When Jaemin almost pushed the door down and we had to rush to get dressed. I just stuffed everything in my bag and your underwear was next to mine so, ta-da,” you say, stretching your arms and shaking your hands to complete the sound effect.

Haechan sighs, nodding. “Of course, it must have been because of Jaemin, somehow.”

“Well, it turned out useful, just put them on. I don’t want to see your dick more than necessary.”

Haechan scoffs and bites back a comment as he finishes getting dressed. “You have to admit I look really good in pink.”

You look at him up and down while he twirls, and you smile. “You would be my favourite Barbie at the mall if they sold you in boxes.”

“God, you’re so annoying, can’t ever make normal compliments,” he complains. “Come on, help me with the bed. It won’t clean itself.”

Making the bed with him is tiresome. His weird way and theories about making it lead you two to bicker more than you should and remake it twice to see who is right —you, obviously. So, once you’re done with it, laying on it with him by your side, you know not even God himself will make you stand up to cook dinner. You don’t need to say a word, Haechan already has his phone out ready to order, and you couldn’t be happier.  

You spend ten minutes deciding what movie to watch and another five bickering because you don’t want to eat on the bed, but he insists you won’t make a mess, and if you do, he will help you clean up. It ends with you giving up and the bell ringing with your order ready.

You never have nights like this. You always try to cook on your own and don’t waste money on eating out, and you also never finish the movie or the series you start, either too tired halfway or with something more important to care about, for example, some notes to copy, or lessons to listen.

But this is nice.

You two joke, laugh, eat, and then you start to feel the sleep take over you, and you don’t think about sending him home or falling asleep on the pillow.

And as you rest your head on his shoulder, Haechan’s more and more sure that his plan failed.

“You’re playing with me, right?” You ask when Haechan messes up for the nth time. The end of the year is approaching, and you two are getting ready for yet another test, the last before the finals, but right now he’s testing your patience not getting a single answer right. You’ve been stuck in his room for hours now.

“I wish I was, my brain is fried,” he huffs, throwing his head back on his chair.

You’re speechless and you shake your head. “It’s super easy, you were better than me in this class, what the fuck is wrong with you?” You snap.

“Hey! Why are you so pissed? Shouldn’t you be happy you’ll beat me even in this?”

“Be serious,” you say, sending him a deadly glare. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m…” he huffs, shaking his head, and turning around in his chair to avoid you. “I’m just stressed for a lot of things. I’m tired, I didn’t sleep tonight.”

“You struggled even last week. And when the Professor asked you something in class you gave an answer that is just not you,” you say, cutting off his bullshit, grabbing the armrest of the chair, and forcing him to face you with a rough tug on the chair.

“There are too many things to remember,” he says, after frowning at how harsh you have been. “It’s not that I don’t know, it’s that I mess it all up.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Do I have to motivate you?”

He lifts his head, staring at you with a furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s play a game,” you say, sitting better on the chair, and Haechan gulps when doing so your skirt —short skirt, incredibly short skirt— rises. He will never tell you, but the way you show up on your dates is another reason why he can’t concentrate. It’s May, it’s so hot. It’s your excuse, but he would bet you’re also doing it to mess up with him.

“No,” he replies, already fearing your proposal.

“Why not? You didn’t hear it, yet.”

He sighs but signals you to go on with a quick movement of his fingers.

“So, we’ll revisit once again, I’ll try to explain all your doubts. Then, I’ll ask you a question, if you get it right, I’ll take off one piece of clothes, if you get it wrong, you’ll take off one, and vice versa.”

“How studying with you butt-naked would make me learn more things?” He almost screams in a high-pitched voice.

“See!” You say. “You’re already starting with the idea you’ll lose.”

“Because I can’t get anything in my brain, and if I get it right then you’ll have to take something off and all I’ll think about will be… you.” I already only think about you, he’d like to add, but that’s too humiliating. Just like the grin on your face. He hates how weak he is. He hates how easy it is for you to win battle after battle. And he hates even more that his plan is showing flaws with each passing day. He doesn’t want you to be his Waterloo, but he’s not sure he can come up with another strategy soon enough to beat you. 

“Fine, then no study-strip-poker,” you give up, but the smug smirk on your face doesn’t drop when you start to think of something else that could motivate him, it only grows bigger when you finally get it. “If you answer right to at least ten of the fifteen questions, I’ll suck your dick.”

Haechan gulps. His eyes immediately fall on your lips as his brain starts to wander on lands he shouldn’t think about, not now at least, not when he has a bigger obstacle to face if he wants to get there.

“Hey,” you call his attention, snapping your fingers and waving them in front of his face. “It has to be motivation, not distraction. Do you want me?”

He huffs, throwing his head back. “Can’t we just fuck and then we’ll start again?” He pouts like he does every time he wants something from you.

“No,” you reply sternly, stealing his sweatshirt from his chair and putting it on you. “You don’t get the prize if you don’t win.”

“That’s not fair. And why are you covering up?”

“So you can’t distract yourself,” you say. You might like to tease him with more revealing clothes, but your intent is never to get him to be this distracted. You don’t want to be the reason he will fail this last test.

“You’re not my distraction,” he scoffs, diverting his gaze, and moving closer to his desk.

You decide to ignore him, you know the truth, and as much as the idea of him starting to lose because he’s too busy thinking of you, sends you on cloud nine, you also don’t want him to do terribly, especially in a class you know he loves and is good at.

“I know the theory,” he says, stopping you from going back to the start. “I wouldn’t be able to produce songs if I didn’t.”

“Yeah, but you just failed to explain how you create and add effects, and you forgot the basic difference between the dry sound and the wet sound, so revisiting some theory won’t hurt.”

Haechan sighs but soon gives up as you hand him your notes. He always thought you were crazy for also having printed pictures of how the software works but now that he needs it, he couldn’t be more grateful that you’re so precise with everything.

You start explaining things once again, cutting short about the most basic notions and diving deeper into the last lessons, as you try to stop as much as you can to make sure he’s still following you. And, after almost an hour, you’re done.

“What are you doing?” He asks when you take off his sweater again. “What about my concentration?”

“I needed your focus while I was explaining, now you have to answer even if you have distractions.”

He huffs loudly, throwing his head back. “But don’t play dirty, you can’t touch yourself or anything like that.”

“I’m not that cruel, I just want you to answer me,” you say. “So, let’s start with an easy one, should we?”

Haechan answers the first questions with ease, not like he usually would, but it’s still better than the mess of before. And he would be so close to getting the last one that keeps him on thin ice, he only got five wrong...

“No, no, no, please,” he begs, trying to stop you in place. “Please, give me one last chance. Ask me just one last question.”

“You got six wrong, babe,” you reply, loving how he’s almost on the verge of tears as his big brown eyes look up at you.

“But it was hard, I will never remember all the types of old reverbs unit,” he whines, coming closer to you.

“Then why do I?”

“Don’t lie, you don’t remember them either, I can’t even pronounce some of those names.”

You chuckle. “Oh, it’s really funny when the lack of a good fuck gets in your brain.” It’s not about sound design anymore. It’s about the desperation behind his eyes; knowing he wants you so much even if you’re the biggest reason for his despair gets your body hot and your pussy wet.

He groans, slumping back on his chair as he gives up on you. Or so he thinks because when he doesn’t pity you enough and you’re still packing your things to leave, he’s back again with his complaint.

“Please, one last chance? I didn’t mess the others up, I just made some tiny mistakes.”

“And you didn’t answer to two,” you say, ignoring him, trying to keep a serious face to not show your true emotions.

“Do I have to get on my knees?”

You snicker. “You look good on your knees,” you taunt but you don’t expect him to do that. “Get up!”

“Not until you give me another chance,” he retorts. “Please.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. “Fine, but just one.”

He nods enthusiastically, almost looking like a puppy being teased with a treat before he sits up in front of you.

“The differences, all the differences, between the shelving equalizer and the peaking equalizer.”

“Okay, I know this one, I know it,” he says before he starts explaining without missing a single detail. “So?” He asks with eyes full of hope as if he doesn’t know he just gave you a perfect answer.

“It was… great,” you tease him but you can’t keep a straight face when you see the pout on his face. “Kidding, kidding, you answered perfectly. So, I guess you deserve your prize.”

“Yes,” he screams, and in a second he throws himself on you but you shake your head and push him back on his chair. “What?”

“You sit there and let me handle this,” you say, placing your hands on his thighs. “Take them off,” you order, tilting your head to point at his grey pants. You see he’s confused about where you want this to go, but he obeys you anyway. “Everything,” you add when he’s still in his boxers. “Good boy, come here,” you say, patting your lap.

Haechan frowns. “You said you were going to suck me off.”

“I know, and have I ever break my promises?”

“I don’t know.”

“Just trust me and come here,” you order, waiting for him to follow. “Can’t believe you’ve been this hard all this time,” you say, wrapping your hand around his hard cock, starting to pump the pre-cum that leaked.

“You teased me,” he huffs, trying to keep his composure as he watches your hand moving on him delicately.

“I know, babe. I’m sorry,” you pout, one hand sneaking under his big white shirt to tease his nipples.

“Don’t,” he mutters, but you only laugh.

“Don’t, what? Let me take care of you, you’re stressed.”

He doesn’t reply, his head falls back as your movements on his dick quicken. He feels so small in your hold and he should find this more embarrassing but he doesn’t care. He loves the way your hand wanders delicately on his body and your lips leave pecks on his neck while the movements on his dick are fast enough to give him what he wants but not too fast to ruin this moment.

Your hands keep moving while your lips kiss his neck and jaw.

“Feels so good,” Donghyuck hums, shifting in your lap.

“I told you,” you chuckle, watching him roll his head back on your shoulder as his eyes close. “The others will hear you,” you say when his whimpers get louder.

“Don’t care,” he moans. “Feels too good.”

You smile and shrug. If he doesn't care, who are you to worry about it? It’s not like they don’t know what happens between you two.

So you quicken your hand, sliding up and down his sensitive dick so fast you make him tremble in your hold.

“You’re so cute like this, you know?” You say. “You look so small and delicate.” You expect him to get mad but instead, he moans and nods swiftly. And you know that stress got him good. Donghyuck, admitting to be vulnerable in your hands? You can only thank the weight the University is putting on his shoulders. But if that’s a way to make it go away, you can’t complain.

“I’m gonna — gonna come,” he whimpers when you start rubbing your thumb on his tip. “Fuck.”

You trap his scream with your other hand, staring at him as he slumps against you as his orgasm washes over him, squirting white strings of cum on your hand and his crumpled shirt.

“Get on the bed,” you urge while lifting the shirt off his body, leaving him naked. He barely has time to put himself together, but you don’t care and you know he needs more too.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit unfair that you’re still all dressed up?” He asks, still sitting on top of you.

“Do you want me to suck your dick, or do you want me to leave?” Is the only thing you have to say to make him obey with no more complaints. “Good. You should be thankful I gave you another chance. Right now you would be masturbating all alone and have no knowledge of sound design, so… what do we say?”

“What do you want me to say? You didn’t—”

“What do we say?” You shut him up, pulling his hair back harshly as your body weights on his lap, eliciting a broken groan.

“Tha — thank you,” he mumbles, cock throbbing right against your thigh. “Thank you but, please, do something, I’m… I need you.”

You snicker, letting go of his head and crawling back on the bed. “You’re so pathetic,” you mock, grabbing his dick again. “Begging on your knees just because you wanted my mouth.”

Haechan groans, throwing his head back but the harsh slap on his thigh makes him snap his eyes open.

“Why?” He squeaks.

“Eyes on me when I’m talking to you,” you order before lowering down so you can tease his tip with your tongue, making him bite back a loud moan.

“Please,” he pleads, and you finally give in. When you take him in your mouth, the broken breath that rolls from his lips makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“Shit,” he moans, fists clenching in the sheets as you suck harder, moving your head up and down in quick movements. He wants to look at you, knowing it will be even harder to not come on the spot, but he’s fighting with so many parts of him, he doesn’t know what to do.

When you pull away to look at him, he whines, hips bucking up in search of physical contact. You snicker, “and then I am the greedy one?”

“You’ve been teasing since you stepped inside the house,” he whines, trying to grab your hand but you don’t let him. “Come on, I’ve been good.”

It’s true, he has been good, but you don’t want him to come yet. “You can’t come, not yet.”

“Fine, just — just don’t tease me. Please,” he cries, begging you with his eyes.

You start taking care of him seriously; bobbing your head up and down while your hand wraps at his base to touch him where you can’t reach. Your movements are quick, but not too messy, since you’re trying to avoid creating a pool of spit and pre-cum all over his lap.

“Your mouth, fuck,” he groans, involuntarily fucking into your throat and uttering a slurred apology. “You’re just so good. God,” he curses, and you catch him rolling his eyes. “Even at — even at this you’re good.”

You snicker to yourself and keep focusing on his dick, heavy on your tongue as you suck with force.

You might be too good, cause it doesn’t take a lot for him to explode in your mouth; a brief warning for you to choose if you want to pull away and then the pleasure runs through his body for the second time.

You barely have time to clean your chin from the cum that dripped down that Haechan pulls you close to him, kissing you intensely while his hands are all over your body. “Want you, please, please fuck me,” he begs against your lips.

You slip out of your panties, quickly grabbing the base of his cock to line it with your soaked entrance because you can’t wait anymore.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so wet,” he hums when you sink, wrapping your hands around his shoulders.

“Want to take merits for this, too?”

“Well, yes,” he retorts. “Shit, don’t move, it’s not fair.”

“Everything is fair between us,” you say, starting to pick up a rhythm that makes him struggle to come up with a snarky reply. “Loss of words?”

He groans, throwing his head back and tightening the hold around your waist. “You can —mmph— you can talk all you want but —ugh— I am the reason why you’re soaked.” Somehow the way you’re bouncing on his dick it’s not enough to wipe away that smug smirk off his face, and you can’t stand it.

“Just shut the fuck up and enjoy this, will you?” You snap before kissing him roughly, cupping his chin with force before nibbling his lower lip, making him hiss. “I like it when you moan, so please, just fucking moan. The only words I want to hear are my name and begs.”

Your “threat” is effective because he doesn’t dare to open his mouth again.

“Good boy,” you praise without ever stopping to kiss him and moving your hips at a quick but regular speed.

You quickly realize that stress has gotten to you, too. You love to pretend it doesn’t affect you, and that you don’t need to let off steam, but you do. You are desperate to feel carefree for a few moments, put all the books and papers behind and have fun. And worst, you need him.

Donghyuck is what makes you feel good. It doesn’t matter if it’s mostly physical, he takes you to another world every time. He makes you feel wanted, he puts you through the test, but he makes everything worth it.

You’re so sure of it as you let your body crush against his, your fleshes meeting in a messed-up tangle of flaws. The kinds of flaws you both grew close enough to show each other.

In a few minutes, waves of pleasure hit you both and your bodies collapse into each other as you keep lazily riding that sensation; muscles on fire, lips meeting in messy kisses, moans panting the room, and your hands looking for each other.

When you lay on the bed side by side, you feel disconnected, and, truly, the only thing you’d like to do is to close your eyes and fall asleep, but your eyes fall on the clock against the wall and remind you why you went to his place.

“Five minutes and then we’re revisiting again,” you say, knowing the only way to get up is to say that thought out loud.  

Donghyuck groans, pressing his face against you and mumbling, “can I eat you out if I make no mistakes this time?”

“We’ll see.”

You’re woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of the piano playing from the living room. The other side of the bed is empty, and the sheets are crumpled up, signalling you Haechan got up somewhere during the night.

You two went on a trip the whole weekend. Not like you had a choice when he passed by your place and told you to get in the car without giving you any information. You got mad at him when he told you it wasn’t a one-day thing, but you were too far from town to even think of going back. And even if initially you were angry because your plans for the weekend were different —studying all day for three days— your anger disappeared quickly.

This is the second night out; you spent the entire day wandering around a town you didn’t even know before and got closer to each other. You love the thrill with him, but you soon realize you also love it when there’s peace between you. It’s impossible for you to don’t bicker, but you learned how to balance everything. And the more you get to know him, the more you like him.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask, watching his features being lit up by the faint moonlight and a small lamp at the side of the piano. It’s an old one, almost left abandoned in the living room of the small, cheap house you’re staying in for the night.

Donghyuck shakes his head. “Got a tune I couldn’t get off my mind so… here we are.”

You smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you sit next to him. You don’t talk, you only watch his fingers move on the notes looking like ballet dancers. You’ve never seen him play the piano before, you weren’t even sure he could. But you’re amazed at how many things he’s talented at, the guitar, the piano, production, singing, dancing —and making your days less grey.

You don’t tell him, you only lean in, resting your head on his shoulder as he keeps playing the sweet melody.

“It’s…” he huffs, stopping for a second. “Doesn’t it sound messy?”

“Not at all,” you reply. “It sounds upbeat. Happy.”

“Out of all the ways you can describe music,” he chuckles, looking at you.

You look up, shrugging. “I’m describing how it’s making me feel.”

“Yeah? And what does it feel like?”

“Play it again,” you say, closing your eyes and letting the tune lull you. “It feels like spring. Like a field full of sunflowers, the ones you see at the side of the highway, passing by so fast before you can even get lost in their beauty.”

Haechan chuckles, holding back the big smile on his face. “It reminds me of those late summer evenings, when the heat dims a bit and the sky is pale pink and purple and blue, and time is frozen.”

“Yeah, when you’re ten and you don’t want summer to end because it means you have to go back to school,” you smile. “When you would stay out all day and come home with the smell of your favourite cake that your mom just baked.”

“Really? Your mom would bake that too?”

You nod. “Chocolate cake, basic and too messy for the heat of summer. But my mom loves me too much to don’t bake it for me, even if it’s 30° outside.”

Haechan chuckles, and his fingers start moving faster, starting the melody of what could be the chorus of the tune.

“In this part, it feels like a wave. I’m picturing running on the beach as the waves crash at your feet and the wind blows against your face.”

“Why are you smiling?” He asks.

You shake your head. “I — I can… it feels oddly romantic, a bit tormented, maybe confused, but in love,” you whisper. He gives you a weird look, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re not using technical words to describe it or because you’re just weird. But there’s a reason you’re not being technical, you’re saying what it makes you feel, the vivid pictures in your mind. And, somehow, there’s you and him.

You two on the beach, walking on the sand before he starts running, teasing you to follow him. There’s the scent of the sea filling your nostrils and your lungs burning up as you reach him and then fall in his arms and feel your heart explode.

“It’s an unexpected feeling, something that wasn’t supposed to happen and then… changed everything. It’s thrilling. Scary, but satisfying.” You avoid his gaze but hear him hum in agreement, and wonder if he’s thinking the same, if he can feel this tension.

“So, something that sweeps everything like a wave,” he asks, and you nod. “Sunset,” he adds, smiling at you, slowing down the rhythm of his fingers. “I can also see the sunset colouring the scene. The kind that makes you look up and stare in awe like a child.”

“The one we saw yesterday,” you reply shyly. “It made your eyes look even more brown,” you confess, watching his cheeks tint up of rose.

“The kind that leaves you breathless,” he whispers. His fingers are still moving but they’re playing the same notes, he’s too busy staring into your eyes, leaning closer to you.

“And speechless.”

And a bit closer.

“And grateful you’re on earth.”

And closer.

You move back, coughing and lowering your head because you feel on fire. Is he making fun of you? Does he feel this? Why is he so confusing?

“It feels like a road trip with nowhere to go,” you say to fill the silence, and your words make him play again. “The calm while everything outside is falling apart.”

“Like running to your safe place?”

You nod. “It feels like… home.”

He smiles, looking in your direction while his fingers still play that sweet melody. “I always believed home is a person, even people, but not a place.”

You swallow, staring at his lips before your eyes meet his. “I’ve forgotten that feeling quite some time ago,” you whisper, feeling your head spin. You left home and never looked back, eager to chase your dreams, the ones you’ve been fighting hard to achieve since you were a child, but in that marathon to success, you’re starting to realize you lost something.

“You just need to find the right people, and then never let go.” He leans closer to you, hands falling from the piano as he leans in completely to trap your lips in a kiss. His hand cups your face while the other moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer and moving his thumb in small circles. You feel like your lungs are on fire, and your legs are weak, but your heart never pumped harder than this. And when he slowly pulls away, you’re staring into each other’s eyes.

You know all the words to your song.

It’s true you’ve tried to avoid Donghyuck’s group of friends as much as you can —mostly to preserve your brain from early injuries— but it’s also true that the end of the second academic year is tearing you apart and you need to do something to don’t go insane.

So here you are, it’s Friday night, at their place, and you’re surrounded. Haechan has left you alone for a moment, busy talking with Mark. Jeno is trying to set up the table in the living room, while Renjun runs after him because ‘things are not perfect enough.’ Yangyang —no, he doesn’t live with them, but for some reason, he is always around— is in the kitchen doing only God knows what.

For your luck, you have Jaemin and the girls by your side. Ningning, who apparently has something going on with Mr Loverboy at your side. Yeri, who is there just to bully Haechan, Mark and Yangyang  —an old tradition that goes on since high school, and you love her for that. And Minjeong, who’s the nicest and yet smartest person you know, you are relieved she is in creative writing with Jaemin. You met them all before, one of the thousand times Donghyuck dragged you around with him, and the four of you got along right away, quickly becoming friends.

“They’re so loud, I would have a constant headache living here,” Yeri huffs loudly, rolling her eyes and falling backwards in Ningning’s arms.

You raise a brow as a ‘told you’ moment.

“They’re not that bad usually,” Jaemin defends, looking at his friends, now all too interested in something that regards what they are supposed to eat.

“Pfft, please, Jaem,” you say, glaring at him.

“How would you know?” He says. “Oh, no, yes, actually you would, you’re always here.”

“See, so stop defending them,” you say before becoming aware of the three sets of eyes boring holes into you. You turn around meeting your three friends and lift a brow in a questing look.

“Why would you always be here?” Ningning teases, nudging you.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t wander too far with your brains. I’ve got a project with Hyuck.”

“Hyuck? You used to go around calling him by his stage name just a few months ago and now it’s Hyuck?” Yeri points out, smirking smugly.

You throw a pillow at her. “He’s always attached to my hip, of course, we got closer,” you explain, frowning.

“Sure, sure,” she laughs. “Not even the boys call him Hyuck.”

“They do,” you retort.

“Of course you know, you’re always here,” Minjeong giggles and you gasp.

“You traitor!” You say, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her as you both laugh.

“Move your asses over here, motherfuc—” Yangyang screams before Renjun slaps a hand on his face.

“I will kill you all one day,” Renjun says, storming into the kitchen to bring more drinks as you sit down around the table.

“Please leave us out of it,” Yeri screams loud enough so he can hear.

“Sure, you can even help me get it done if you want to,” he says, sitting between Jeno and Yangyang, handing the bottles around.

“I’m in,” the four of you say simultaneously, raising your hands and they all gasp as they glare at you.

“Guess we better sleep with our eyes open tonight,” Yangyang mutters.

“You should always sleep with one eye open,” Yeri threatens, smiling creepily.

You chuckle at their antics, but your attention is caught by Donghyuck who sits by your side. “Would you kill me?”

You smile, caressing his hand on his thigh. “Honey, what are you saying? You would be the first that has to go.”

The smile on his face drops and you laugh, turning to the table to grab something to eat.

“You know,” he whispers, leaning in so only you can hear, “no dick tonight.”

You lower your head, trying to hide the embarrassment, but then lift it up and shake it, fixing your hair behind your ear, and turning to him. “Not like something could’ve happened tonight anyway.”

“Period?”

“People,” you say and he chuckles, opening a can of beer before taking a sip.

“As if that ever stopped you.”

You roll your eyes, stealing the beer from his hand, “as if that ever stopped you.”

He smiles, resting his head on his palm as he looks at you. “You never said no, though.”

You wave him off, returning your attention to the table, but it doesn’t last much, they’re deep in a heated conversation and you’re missing something. “Why are they bickering… again?”

Haechan chuckles, shaking his head, grabbing a spring roll, dipping it in the soy sauce before taking a bite. You roll your eyes because you need to be updated right away but when you look at him munching happily you can’t hold back a smile.

“So,” he says, cleaning his lips after he swallowed, “Jeno wants Renjun for a project, but Renjun has war traumas of the last time they did a shooting together and doesn’t want to.”

You giggle, grabbing a spring roll too, and dipping it in the same small cup of Donghyuck, while you both pay attention to the conversation.

“But you’re perfect for it,” Jeno insists, shaking Renjun from his shoulders, not caring about the pissed-off expression of the older.

“I’m literally not, ask anybody else but me,” Renjun repeats, a deep crease visible on his forehead.

“But you look like an angel,” Jeno pouts, finally stopping his movements and batting his lashes to gain some pity.

“I might look like an angel, but I feel Satan rising in me every time you talk,” he says, making everybody laugh before he glances, and the room goes quiet.

“Come on, how bad can it be?” Minjeong says, and you see her shift closer to Mark, but you don’t say anything.

Renjun groans, throwing his head back. He can’t believe he might be convinced into this by the end of the night. “He’s too much of a perfectionist, and I’m not comfortable in front of the camera. Also, he’s not rich enough to have a studio and he always takes ages to put the light boxes in their place once he’s done.”

“Oh, I won’t annoy you, I promise,” Jeno begs again.

“We can rent a studio,” you say, all eyes on you. “I mean,” you cough, placing the small bite of the roll left on the plate in front of you, “me and Hyu— Donghyuck have to shoot the cover for the songwriting project, I don’t think we can wait any longer since we also have to record the song and then come up with an advertising strategy.”

“Then rent a studio?” Renjun says, coming out colder than he intends to. “No, wait, I just don’t get why you have to drag me in this.”

“Jeno proposed to be our photographer, but I doubt we can do it at home. And since we wouldn’t be paying for his job. Sorry,” you mouth quickly glancing at Jeno who shrugs and smiles at you. “We can at least put the money for the studio.”

“And where do I fit in this,” he cries, shoulders slumping as he knows there’s no way out of this, no matter what you say next.

“Well, since you pay the studio per hour, I don’t think Jeno will torture you much. He takes two hours with you and two hours with us and in a day, we are done. Also, if there are four of us, we can be quicker,” you finish explaining, hearing some hums of agreement from your other friends.

Jeno doesn’t say a word, he’s only smiling widely with his face close to Renjun’s as the latter regrets all the life choices that brought him here. “Fine, I’ll do it,” he exhales, groaning when Jeno hugs him and screams a cheer in his ear. “Step away before I change my mind,” he warns, slapping Jeno’s arm and glaring at him when he does as told.

Yeri sighs deeply at your side, rolling her eyes and muttering, “children.”

You chuckle, finishing your roll, and stealing Donghyuck’s beer again before talking to him. “So, I guess we’re almost done.”

“Almost done? You still didn’t show me the lyrics, have you even written them?”

“Hey,” you scold. “Are you doubting me?”

“I don’t know, last time I checked, you were the one struggling. I offered you four bases, and all the words I’ve read from you ended up crumpled in the bin.”

You sigh. “I’ve got the song,” you reassure him.

“Really?”

“Yeah, and I also picked the production. I mean, I… I wrote it because of that production.”

Haechan’s smirk widens when you start stuttering and looking away, trying to look unsuspicious in your friends’ eyes. “Really? And why are you shying away?”

You almost jump when you feel his hand on your thigh, resting on your bare skin under the skirt. “I’m not,” you whisper, trying to keep cool.

He snickers. “You know I’ll have to see it and you can’t keep it a secret from me, right?”

“I know, I don’t want it to be a secret. You’ll read it.”

He squeezes your thigh, and you glare at him. “Not now.”

“Right, later, under the cover when we’ll watch a movie,” he jokes.

Yeri coughs beside you and you see your entire life pass in front of your eyes, but you fake nonchalance and turn to her. “Need something? Some water?”

“Some tea, honey, some tea,” she says, raising a brow and pointing at the man at your side, now busy talking with Yangyang.

“I can make some.”

“Stop playing me,” she whispers, sending you a deadly glare. She can be scary at times, you’re not surprised the boys listen to her in the blink of an eye.

“He’s just being stupid, he flirts even with walls,” you say.

“Does he touch their thighs?”

“No, he’s not,” you say, only to gasp when she looks down and his hand is still on you. You push it away but he puts it right where it was and you can only sigh.

Yeri snickers. “Ah, l’amour.”

Your head rolls back as you let out an annoyed sigh. “Love my ass.”

Yeri shrugs, sipping from her small bottle of soju. “Don’t care, there’s still something going on, and I’m interested.”

“I’d love to mock you with somebody but you’re more closed than an unopened can of beans.”

“You are so bad with words. How do you write songs?”

“I don’t write about beans, clearly,” you say seriously before you both laugh.

“You two, mind to share what’s funny with the class?” Ningning calls you out.

“Sorry Professor Ning, we’ll be even more annoying next time,” Yeri retorts.

“Why do I feel you’re quoting something we can’t understand?” Renjun says.

“Because you’re right,” Yeri replies.

“Yesterday Yeri almost got us expelled,” Ningning says with a forced smile on her face, making you all gasp.

“What happened to sharing information?” Mark screams, leaning in with interest.

“Why do you care so much?” Yeri shrugs, grabbing a bowl of tteokbokki to eat.

“Mh, hello? You got your asses out of Uni,” Minjeong says.

Yeri only rolls her eyes, resting her head on Ningning. “If a tteokbokki falls on my clothes you’re dead,” the blonde-haired warns before bringing her gaze to all of you. “In her defense, it wasn’t her fault. Not at the start, at least.”

“No,” Yeri retorts, sitting up straight again, and placing the bowl on the table, “it wasn’t my fault, period.”

“Here she goes again,” Ningning sighs, puffing and shaking her head, making you chuckle. But Yeri is not paying her attention, too busy telling the facts right.

“Professor Choi hates us and treats us like kids. Not only his lessons are boring, and I would like to add, useless, but he also thinks we’re in kindergarten.”

“Did you fight with him?” Jeno questions, frowning, already fearing a positive answer.

Yeri gulps, looking around to take time to answer.

“Oh, God, tell me you didn’t,” you say, staring at her with a worried expression.

“He asked for blood,” she says, getting fired up.

“You fought a Professor?” Jaemin gasps loudly.

“She didn’t,” Ningning intervenes when Yeri is about to open her mouth again. “Just because I was there to babysit her, but she didn’t.”

“I didn’t come here to be treated like a child,” she says, crossing her arms on her chest. “We weren’t even being loud. We were sitting in the back of the class, minding our business and he called us out. There was a group of boys in the middle row watching fucking porn and he called us out.”

“Ew,” it comes out collectively.

“But unless the headphones weren’t connected how would he know?” Yangyang asks.

“I don’t care! He hates us,” she groans.

“So you decided to make him hate you even more? Smart move, Yerim, smart move,” Renjun says sarcastically, and she glares at him.

“I just decided to drag her out when things got a bit heated,” Ningning says.

“Not in a Beyonce way I guess,” Haechan jokes, and Yeri slaps him as you move back to give her space to hit him.

“Hey! Why are you helping her bully me?” He asks offended.

“Cause you deserve it?” You shrug.

Donghyuck looks around in disbelief, groaning when everybody agrees. “Fake ass friends, can’t even trust your own shadow in this group.”

“Back to what matters, safe to say you won’t pass the class,” Renjun says.

“We will, there’s only one lesson left, and we’ll pay attention,” Ningning says and Yeri raises her brows. “We will pay attention. He might hate us, but, you know, a bit of boot-licking and we’ll be fine.”

“Fine,” Yeri gives up. “But only because I don’t want to see him ever again.”

“We once fought so hard we got kicked out,” Haechan confesses, bringing the attention to him.

“You and?” Jeno asks.

“Dumbass, Miss Better than him, thought you heard them bicker every two seconds,” Renjun replies instead, pointing at you with his index finger.

“Hey!” You say. “I mean, thank you for acknowledging I’m better than him but it wasn’t so bad.”

“Oh, trust me, it was,” Mark comments before drinking his beer.

“And you were teaching us a lesson, uh?” Yeri teases, eyebrow raised at you two.

“We didn’t insult the Professor,” you explain. “We were just at each other’s throat.”

“Why?” Minjeong asks.

“Honestly? Can’t remember, we fight about everything,” Donghyuck replies.

“We don’t fight,” you clarify. “We discuss. And sometimes things take a bad turn. Not anymore, we learned how to survive with each other.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” giggles Yeri and you kick her knee with yours, making her groan.

Haechan sends you a look you ignore, and you go on explaining. “We were just stating our thoughts, but we weren’t exactly agreeing, and we couldn’t stop, so the Professor told us to take it somewhere else.”

“And you did? You simply could’ve stopped,” Renjun asks in disbelief. He can’t believe he thought you were normal.

“We had business to settle, okay?” You explain.

“Oh, and we sure did,” Haechan chuckles under his breath or so he thinks because the room goes quiet, and you think you want to strangle him.

You have to come up with something.

“You only won because I gave up,” you say, looking into his eyes, seeing the devilish glint behind, warning him to not say a word more.

“You always give up if there’s a prize you can take,” he clicks his tongue and you gulp.

“Oookay, weird tension in the room, it’s clear the only one not getting laid is me,” Yangyang cheers, bringing you two out of your competitive stare. You’d like to complain, saying it’s not what he thinks about, but you’re still stuck, brain busy thinking about something else.

“This night it’s boring, if we don’t do something funny, I’ll act out my plan of killing you all,” Renjun says, standing up.

“I still don’t know whether you’re joking or not,” Mark says.

“Because I’m not.”

“Caught you!”

“Hyuck!” You scream, turning around, holding a hand over your chest as his arms wrap around your waist and his chin rests on your shoulders. “You could’ve killed me.”

“You’re eating cake without me, that’s the crime,” he says, pulling your hand to his face to take a bite.

You roll your eyes. “Jaemin told me he had to store it away because Jeno and Minjeong were eating it all.”

“So, you were hiding, uhm?”

You hum, cutting another piece and diving it in two to give it to him. “He said I could eat it. Also, I think I had too much alcohol and I need to put something in my stomach.” You sit on the countertop and he takes his place between your legs.

“Am I allowed to eat it?”

“I guess so, I’ll take the blame if he says something,” you giggle.

“Don’t think he will notice, too busy dancing with somebody,” he says, hinting at Ningning.  

“They look cute together,” you say, smiling fondly.

“Oh, they do. If only he could grow some balls and confess,” he says.

“Do you confess, Casanova?” You tease.

Donghyuck smirks. “How does it look like?”

You shrug. “Don’t know, you tell me.”

He rolls his eyes before he realizes you two are not together. “Wait, are we… no, never mind,” he says, pulling away, and turning to the door.

You grab his hand, stopping him. “What?”

“Jeno called,” he lies, trying to escape your hold.

“No, he didn’t. He’s sitting with Yangyang passing the blunt around,” you jump off the top and face him. “Are we?” You’re not sure what you expect him to say.

Donghyuck gulps, struggling to keep his eyes on you. “Are you fucking somebody else?”

Whatever you were expecting, that wasn’t it. “Are you?”

“I asked you first,” he retorts.

You blink. “Oh, really?

“Yeah, really.”

“Do I look like I know somebody else besides us?”

“Jeno likes you, and he told me you two are texting.”

“As friends, Hyuck. I already told him I’m taken — I’m not, I’m… I’m taken by other things in my mind. Uni, fighting you, especially fighting you.”

Donghyuck snickers, not really what he expected from you, but deep down —not even so deep, truly— what he wanted to hear. “Yeah, I agree, you’re taken, mostly by me.”

You’re about to retort but he slips from your hands too soon, leaving the small kitchen to reach the others. But you’re smiling. It’s a dumb, small smile that lights up your face in the dark of the night, and your heart pumps. You two didn’t name any of this, but —bickering aside— you objectively know you acted like a couple. It’s not about the sex, it’s about everything else. He started to pick you up before lessons so you could go to class together and sit next to each other —while he did everything he could to distract you. You ate at your friends’ table at lunch, went out for dates, and occasionally even slept over. You are taken and probably for longer than you even realise. Donghyuck started filling your days months ago, and even your life.

You’re still caught up in your thoughts that you don’t hear Ningning enter the kitchen.

“I spy with my little eyes something suspicious,” she sings while pouring herself a glass of water, leaning against the countertop where you were before.

“First Yeri, and now you?” You ask, a small smile curling your lips while you walk to lean next to her.

Ningning gasps offended. “She knew before me? Is this how you betray me? After I helped you style your hair?”

You laugh, resting your head on her shoulder, and inhaling deeply; she always smells nice. “I didn’t tell her,” you confess. “Honestly, I don’t even know myself.”

You can’t see her, but you know she’s smiling when her arms wrap around your body.

“So, what is that, love?”

You hum. “I don’t know what it is, but I know I like it.”

“I knew you were a romantic at heart,” she jokes, pulling away to squeeze your cheeks.

“I’m just happy. I don’t think I need to put a name on this… on this happiness.”

A big smile spreads on her face and her eyes crinkle, her hand softly caresses your cheeks. “It’s not only Donghyuck, is it?”

You nod, pressing your lips in a flat line because something about this feels too emotional for you. It’s 11 pm and there’s faint music playing in the living room while people laugh, and joke, sharing a blunt or bottles of alcohol. And you’re in the kitchen talking about a boy you want to kiss and strangle with who, you’re sure, can now consider your best friend. It’s the stupid fun of the early 20s. It’s the sense of something you’ve been missing for too long since you only let yourself be absorbed by your studies, leaving friendship behind.

And when a lonely tear rolls down your eyes, Ningning coos, gently wiping it away. “I’m happy,” you say, nodding.

“I know,” she replies, cupping your face.

“I’ve been on my own since I came here and I never regretted believing in my dreams even if it meant leaving the ones I loved the most behind, but now I realize what I’ve been missing,” you confess. “I love that they’re so loud they give me a headache.” You both chuckle and your hands intertwine. “And I love that we all sit together at lunch even if most of you have to run from the other side of the building. I love how none of you hesitated one moment to consider me part of your group.”

“I’m so happy you’re with us,” she says, smiling. “I guess Donghyuck does something right sometimes.”

You both laugh.

“Yeah, he definitely made my second year less boring than the first one,” you admit.

“Come here, I guess we both could use a hug,” she says, not giving you time to reply before you’re into her arms. You stay like this for a while, and you know more than before that this is what you missed the most. This is what college means. It isn’t in the loud parties, the sex, and the drugs, it’s in the people you do things with. Nine young people like you, trying to survive this craziness by being each other’s strength. You can still look at your goal right in the eye even if you have fun, even if you date, even if you have someone to walk down this road with.

“You know, I knew you were a good one when you slammed your fist on the table at lunch when he made you fuck up the essay,” Ningning confesses when you pull away.

You laugh, wiping away another tear. “I’m glad he did, I wouldn’t be here today if he didn’t.”

“You and Ning disappeared in the kitchen before,” Donghyuck says, searching in his closet to find something to make you wear for the night.

“Yeah, we talked about us. I know I might not show it, but I’m glad I found this,” you sigh. “I like them.”

Donghyuck smiles, sitting next to you. “They all like you just as much.”

“It’s like I finally have a place where I belong. I have people to rely on, so maybe I’ll learn to stop wanting to deal with everything by myself.”

“I told you life doesn’t have to be lonely,” he says. “I know that coming from me sounded like sabotage but I meant it. Having someone by your side makes everything easier.”

You smile and nod, grabbing the shirt he’s handing you. “I hate to say it, but you were right,” you chuckle. He doesn’t reply and you don’t drag the conversation, simply enjoying the thousands of words you two should be telling each other, but are not ready to face, yet.

“Can I use the bathroom? I need to freshen up a bit,” you say, breaking the comfortable silence. Most of the others are crushed in the living room, you think you saw Ningning sneak into Jaemin’s room but you were too caught up in Donghyuck to be sure of that, Renjun and Jeno might still be awake but you’re sure that all the weed they smoked won’t make them pay attention to you.

“Sure, if you need towels they’re in the cabinet under the sink,” he tells you, and soon you’re out of the room.

It doesn’t take you long to clean yourself up; you wash your face and steal someone’s products to get rid of your make-up, quickly get rid of your dress, put on some perfume —you’re pretty sure it’s Donghyuck’s cause you smell like him— and then wear the shirt he borrowed.

Once you’re done, you quickly make your way to the kitchen, and, passing in the living room, you see your assumptions are right; there’s no sight of the two love birds, and the only ones awake are Renjun, Jeno and Yeri, while the others are crushed on the sofa. You expect a remark from the girl, but she barely notices you, too busy playing —trying to— something with the other two.

After a few minutes, you’re back in Donghyuck’s room, and you notice he’s changed into something comfortable, too. He’s lost folding his clothes, and you let yourself get lost in his beauty. Too busy fighting him and trying to prove something, you realize you never noticed the smallest details that make him so handsome. The bridge of his nose, his soft lips, the moles on his cheek, his soft brown hair falling around his face.

“You alright?” His voice brings you out of your daydreams and you nod shyly, feeling embarrassed for being caught staring.

“Yeah, everything fine,” you reply, quickly walking to the bed. You see him staring at you with a confused expression, but avoid any awkward moment by reaching for your phone and pretending to be busy. But you’re not busy, you’re confused. You’re not used to this, any of this. Your nights have always been filled with yourself and books (whether for school or your entertainment), and if you felt wilder a movie, rare were the occasions when you would go out with your friends. And regret is creeping on your back. You feel like you lost a lot, you feel like you’ve punished yourself to get where you are now. And you think about love, how you treated your relationships, how little weight you gave them. And when you think about what you felt in these past months you wonder if you have ever even been in love.

“Remind me to never make you drink again if you get this sulky.” Once again, Donghyuck’s voice brings you back to earth, and when you turn toward that sound, you see he’s sitting next to you.

“I’m not sulky,” you chuckle. “I was just thinking about what I said before.”

He hums. “And?”

You shrug. “Nothing. You can’t change the past, I was just… having some bittersweet emotions.” It’s the truth, but you know that deep down your brain is trying to make you focus on the friendships because you don’t want to think about your biggest problem: the man you have by your side. This wasn’t supposed to be whatever it is. It wasn’t supposed to happen. And you don’t hate that it did, but you don’t know how to feel and act about it, cause you didn’t plan it. You couldn’t study this, you couldn’t put this on a PowerPoint and have it all laid out for you to understand it, it’s not logical, it’s not a theory, a study, a thesis, it’s emotion.

“You seemed happy before,” he whispers after a few minutes of silence passed. His hand gently rests on your stomach and you feel your heart race.

“I was,” you reply. “I am. I just wish I found this sooner, I always focused on my studies and career, and looking back at it now, it was lonely. And…” you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “I’m jealous of you, ‘cause you managed to be at the top with all of this.”

He chuckles, but it’s a tender sound, and then smiles at you. “Well… I managed until you came around. You…” he coughs, struggling to confess, “you distracted me a bit, so I think you’re better than me at this socializing and rocking your career at the same time thing.”

You laugh. “I distracted you?”

“Just a bit, don’t get too excited,” he warns, falling deeper into the mattress and laying in silence. You have your thoughts tormenting you, but for him, it’s no different. He knows his plan failed. You’ve been filling his thoughts, days and seconds for a few months now. Even when he was studying or recording, somehow, you were always there. At first, for spite, surely, but then, it turned into something else. Hate turned into teasing, teasing turned into lust, and lust turned into something more. He knows he doesn’t just simply want you or need you. He craves you and your company, your study sessions together, your smart talks, your witty words, your annoyed eye-roll when he’s right, and the soft eyes when you listen to him. He craves you and your laugh, the suppressed one during lessons and the loud one when you are alone, or your hidden smirk when he makes you smile even if you don’t want to.

He constantly comes back to you.

“Are you listening or are you avoiding me?” You ask when he doesn’t reply to your question and he shakes his head, mumbling an apology.

“Sorry, I was thinking.”

You chuckle. “It’s alright, it was a bitter question anyway.”

“No come on, ask me again.”

“It was just for fun. I wanted to know if I was the reason why you’ve been doing a bit worst than me lately,” you say. There’s no mockery in your tone, instead it’s light and hides a timid blush as the words roll down your tongue.

Donghyuck’s body shuffles next to yours and only then you realize how intimately close you are, with your legs almost intertwined, his hand still on your stomach and his face resting on your chest. “Well, yes, you were an unexpected presence in my life, so…”

“So…?” You laugh. “Am I so hot I got you horny all the time?” You joke but he doesn’t crack a smile, instead he furrows and stands up to sit on the bed with his arms crossed.

“I’m not that horny,” he murmurs.

Your body mirrors his, and then your hands lift his chin up. “Sorry, I was kidding. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just didn’t think you thought about me that much. I wanted to be on top but not like this.”

“Technically, you’re not on top of everything, but anyway, we just spent a lot of time together, you know? So different studying methods and so on, shocked me a bit.”

You raise a brow, not because you’re so pretentious to think you distracted him that much, but because you think you learned to read him a bit and he’s not being honest at all. “Sure, and you weren’t busy thinking of me after our… dates? Coming home and texting me, and telling me how you should’ve been between my thighs instead?”

He blushes, and you can’t believe your eyes. “It only happened once, and either way I never study at night, my pretty brain can’t handle it.”

You laugh. “Your brain is pretty, now?”

“Yeah, of course, everything about me is pretty.” He shrugs.

“You’re a bit of a liar, you know? First telling me I distracted you and then taking it back, but it’s alright, I think we settled this war. We’re equal now, right?”

“I guess you could say that.”

You huff rolling your eyes. “You’re so competitive, God.” You fall on the mattress again. “But maybe it’s good, we can keep this healthy and competitive.”

He hums, thinking about it and then nods. But you don’t expect him to cage you with his body as he sits on top of you and reduces the distance between you. “Doesn’t sound bad, we could try.”

You smile, trying to act nonchalantly, but it’s hard when he’s so close; hair a mess, face tired but still so fucking handsome, and plump lips so temptingly close to yours.

“I want you,” you whisper, looking straight into his eyes even if they make your knees buckle.

“I want you, too,” he replies before diving in and kissing you.

The last weeks before finals are hectic. You and Donghyuck spend all the time studying together. When you’re not locked in the library you’re either at your or his place, and most of the time you end up sleeping over with the excuse of “spending just a few minutes together without thinking about exams.”

Yet, none of you confess anything. Your relationship lingers in that limbo.

In all that chaos, what takes you more time is the songwriting project. You spend days in the studio to record and mix it. Then when you are done, you move to the studio with Jeno to shoot the concept photos. And it would been enough for the exam, but you and Donghyuck just have to go an extra mile, making an entire booklet with the photos and the lyrics inside, the physical CD with the track, the instrumental, and an acapella version.

Even if the shooting is long and tiring, since you have to style and do each other’s make-up, and the only help is from Renjun, you have a lot of fun.

If at the start you feel a bit insecure with the poses, Donghyuck is the perfect partner to have to feel at ease. And Jeno knows how to do his job, making you feel like a queen after the first awkward shots.

“I love how the photos turned out,” Jeno cheers happily on your way to their place. “The three of you are the perfect models. I will annoy you again to build my portfolio.”

Renjun rolls his eyes as his head slams against the bus window.

You chuckle. “Come on, Jun,” you say, pinching his cheek. “You had fun too, you can’t deny that. Also, you got so many beautiful photos for free, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Free? I’d like to remind you I helped you pay for the rent,” he retorts, sitting straight again. “But yeah, I had fun,” he admits, making Jeno clap happily. “But, I will do this again only if she comes with us.”

Jeno bats his eyes at you and you snicker. “Yes, if I am what he needs to be dragged into the studio, I will come with you.”

“I love you,” Jeno screams, hugging you tight. When you hug him back, you make eye contact with Donghyuck, but he swiftly turns his head. Not quick enough to hide he’s not enjoying this so much; jaw tense, fingers closing in a fist.

You find his jealousy of Jeno quite interesting. Even if it’s true you got very close to him, it’s hilarious how Donghyuck thinks anything would happen between you two when Jeno is clearly taken by someone else; someone too busy plotting his murder to realize his feelings, but that’s another matter.

And Donghyuck shows his jealousy even more when, once at home, you sit around the table to watch Jeno post-produce the photos and create the mock-up for the entire project with your supervision.

His arm wraps around your shoulder as he keeps his leg pressed against yours, and you have to hold back a chuckle. Yes, it’s obvious there’s nothing between you and Jeno, but this makes you feel wanted, and you let him show it.

You know you’ll have to deal with other menaces tomorrow; a hangout is already scheduled in the group chat with the girls after a quick text sent right away by Yeri. You love her, you do, but without that, maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have four other pairs of eyes set on you — Jaemin and Yangyang are very curious when they want to.

“Are you listening?” Jeno’s voice brings you out of your thoughts.

You blink twice and then mumble, “what?”

He shakes his head. “Do you like the font?”

“Oh,” you whisper. Your eyes adjust again on the screen that you were mindlessly staring at and focus on the project. “Yeah, I love it.”

“We were thinking of not putting our name on it since it’s more trendy lately,” Donghyuck says.

You nod. “Yeah, I think it’s better like this. I also love the picture, I think it would be more powerful without the name on it but we’re not that famous, yet,” you joke making them laugh.

“That’s why I didn’t make it too big, so the focus would be on you two.”

“Love it, that's perfect,” you praise. “Honestly, seeing it all almost done, I feel guilty for not giving you anything.”

Jeno shrugs. “It’s alright. I’m having fun doing this and can put it in my portfolio anyway. I did much worse and less fun for some courses.”

“We will offer you a dinner,” Donghyuck says. “Somewhere cheap, though.”

After a few hours, everything is almost done. Jeno still wants to double-check everything tomorrow before sending it to be printed but the final results won’t differ much.

“So, I think we should celebrate the project that brought you two so close,” Ningning says, winking at the last words, before raising an empty cup.

You chuckle, trying to escape Donghyuck’s hold, but it’s still firm on you. “It’s just a Uni project, there's nothing to celebrate.”

“Well, mine and Mark’s is not that good,” Yangyang snorts. “I don’t understand why you two always want to do so much extra work but whatever makes you happy.”

“We love the song,” Donghyuck replies. “And we’re proud of it so we might as well fool ourselves it might get more than 30 listens on SoundCloud.”

“For me,” Ningning says, “this is huge. One day you’ll be famous and we will get to say we were here from the start, so we need to treat ourselves and party.”

“Yes, let’s treat ourselves to the cheapest pizza on the block. Oh, how I love being an adult,” Yeri huffs, slumping on the couch. “No, but really, this is something to celebrate.” She then moves closer to you so that only you can hear. “And maybe if we get you drunk enough we’ll get juicy info before tomorrow.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Fine, order these pizzas and let’s celebrate.”

The girls don’t get you drunk enough to spill anything but get themselves drunk enough that Jaemin has to drive them back to their place. Truthfully there’s nothing to say anyway. You and Donghyuck still didn’t talk, you didn’t even have sex lately. Too busy with everything, that was the last of your thoughts. But you did sleep together and basically lived in symbiosis. So?

You should feel happy about this project. Academically it will be another success, and honestly, one of your best works so far. So why do you feel this emptiness in your chest now that you’re sitting on a chair in Donghyuck’s bedroom?

This is the end. Now nothing holds you two together, and you fear that what you built over these months might not be strong enough for you to still hang out with you. You wonder if this meant anything to him. Sure, he likes you, but how much? Sex means nothing, and even if said between the lines, he got you to try out romantic things to make you come up with the song. And he succeeded. You have the song, the lyrics you tried so hard to put down. Fake dates, fake flirts, fake everything, but everything you put down is real. And it’s terrifying.

So absorbed by your torments, you don’t see Donghyuck stare at you, standing in front of you changed into fresh clothes.

“Hey.” His voice makes you flinch in surprise and quickly look up at him. There’s a frown on his face. “What’s with that face?”

You shrug, diverting the eye contact.

“Are you not happy with the result?” Donghyuck asks, grabbing the closest chair so he can sit right in front of you.  

“No, I love it. I loved everything so much and that’s why I’m sad.” There are many reasons why, and you’re not a master at dealing with too many emotions at once. Subjects? Books? Essays? Projects? They can fall and pile up on you and you won’t feel the weight of it. But real life? Feelings? Not where you excel.

“Cause you won’t have any excuses to spend time with me and see me?” He teases, chuckling. He’s still the same person you met one year ago but behind his playful voice and acts there’s something tender, at least you like to see it this way.

“Uhm, I hope we will keep seeing each other,” you confess shyly, doing everything in your power to not meet his warm gaze. His hands on his lap are a beautiful view now. “But no…”

His teasing smirk turns apprehensive. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You shrug. This should be the easy thing to confess. A bit humiliating considering showing some weakness to him still feels like letting your mortal enemy pour salt in your open wounds, but you’re hiding more vulnerable things from him.  

“Nothing but… I was so sure I didn’t want to be a singer, and I was more and more sure of working in Pr, and now… I don’t know. I loved writing the song, like I always do, but this time felt different, as if… that’s what I’m supposed to do in my life, you know?” You look up because even if you can’t take a mocking look you have to see his reaction.

He smiles, caressing your cheek. “I think you’re good at it so yeah, you should.”

You’re taken aback by that reply. Deep down you wanted him to shred your dreams cause you feel like all of this is insane, and if you have nobody supporting you maybe you won’t indulge in it. But it’s clear that Donghyuck is not an enemy anymore and has your back now.  

“Yeah but… I loved singing and doing it with you. Being in the studio, recording, but even before when we were working on the melody and everything. And working on the concept? We did all that with just one song, can you imagine what working on an album feels like?”

He smiles and nods. “Well, yeah, I fantasized about it a lot, so yes. But why is it a problem? Why can’t you pick this as a career?”

You can see in his eyes that he’s confused. Not by your change of path, but by your sudden insecurity. Deep down you’re shocked by that too. You have changed goals a few times in your academic career but somehow this feels so different.

“Cause it’s rare to make it,” you mutter, nervously playing with your hands. Truth is, the chances of failure are so big, and you’re not sure you could take it. You and your perfectionism and your need to succeed on the first try.  

“Can’t say you’re wrong, it’s hell out there, but… you’re good, and beautiful, and I’m sure that with your songwriting skills and your voice, someone will notice you.”

He had tried to make a name for himself longer than you, he knows it. During some vulnerable night conversation where you showed him your songs, he told you how many demos he had sent, and how hard he tried to build something at least on the socials. So you don’t care if his words are driven by sympathy, he could discourage you, but instead, he’s supportive, and that’s all you need.

“And what am I without your production? Will you be my Jack Antonoff?”

Donghyuck laughs. “I’d prefer to be your Aaron Dessner.”

“Yeah, fine. I like that Haechan,” you say, highlighting that name that now sounds foreign.

“I don’t want to hear that name roll from your lips anymore,” he chuckles and you hum laughing.   

“Talking about lyrics,” he says after a few seconds, the phrase lingers in the air… “this song was interesting.”

“Interesting? What do you mean? Is it bad?” Your eyes widen and the anxiety that left you jumps at you again.

He shakes his head. “I said interesting, not bad. You should know the difference.”

“It’s not funny, interesting means nothing.”

He chuckles. “Some phrases are interesting… that’s it. They look familiar.”

You feel your body burn up in flames and you have to shift your gaze from him. You should’ve scrapped that, he isn’t dumb. (You believed he was up until two seconds ago, but apparently, he was just waiting for the right moment to trap you.)

“I wonder if something, or someone,” he winks, “inspired you.”

“The sea. When we went there together. The sea inspired me,” you whisper swiftly, nervously biting the inside of your cheek. “That’s why I called it wave.”

Donghyuck laughs. “I’m not talking about the title, and you know it,” he says, resting his hand on your knee. “Flow that I’ve never felt before? Meeting you through distinctive distraction is a miracle?”

“You told me you liked it,” you say, playing innocent.

He rolls his eyes. “I do. I love it, actually. I just wanted to analyse it with you.”

You gulp when his fingers start rubbing on your skin. “We should’ve done it before recording it, don’t you think?”

He clicks his tongue. “Nah, I want to do it now. I think I already know who inspired you.”

“The sea —”

“Drop it,” he retorts sternly, squeezing your knee. “I think our plan worked. Well, unless you found someone else who inspired you to write a love song.”

“It’s barely a love song,” you stutter, body heating up.

“Right, some lyrics felt sexy,” he giggles. “You’re such a master in holding me here and there and going up and up down and down again.”

You try to scoot away, but he blocks you by putting his feet under the leg of the chair. “So what? Also, you’re dirty-minded, that’s not what it means…”

He snickers, rubbing his thumb on your cheek. “Why are you so flustered then?”

“Cause you’re too close to me, I can barely breathe.”

“Mhh… it reminds me of something.”

You roll your head back and mutter a curse under your breath. “Isn’t it what you wanted? To inspire me? I did it. I romanticized everything and we got the song.”

“Romantized everything,” he hums. “In this wave called you that’s pushing in, I fall in love. You are the center of my heart. Feeling new, feel now. The wave that started because of you, babe. Dive into the world called you. Damn, your creativity is so good, you are talented.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“No, I…” he sighs annoyed. “If you wrote it down in a song, why can’t you say it to my face?”

You gulp. “I have nothing to tell you.”

He raises a brow. “So you’re still confused. Should I satisfy you to hear you say it?”

You hide your face in your hands and groan. “Fine,” you snap. “I — I wrote that about you. And I, God, this is humiliating. You heard the song, you sang it. Do you want me to say it out loud? Was that not enough?”

Donghyuck smiles, and, for a moment, you fear he will break into a mocking laugh, but instead, his smile gets bigger. “Yes, I knew it,” he screams.

“Oh… of course it’s funny to you, maybe this is what you wanted all along, make me fall in love and then make fun of me.”

“Fall in love?” He whispers, stopping in his tracks to look at you, and only then you realise you said it loud and clear. And it’s worse than saying it in a song. “You love me seriously? Like it’s not just attraction and maybe liking me?”

You feel like choking up on tears but try not to show it. “So you can laugh at me more?”

“Why would I laugh at you? I just want to know if what you feel is real,” he replies, and somehow he sounds even more annoyed than before.

You hum and nod, no words can leave your mouth.

“Did you really think I would use this against you? Don’t you trust me?”

“I — I… I don’t know, okay? I do, but also, this was… this was all fake, just to write that song and now it’s real. And it was never supposed to be real, and maybe you never wanted me, cause I’m not your type and you hated me and we both wanted this to be over and now I feel like I can barely breathe without you, and I know that in the song I said I would’ve left the decision in your hands but the idea of you not wanting me back makes me sick and I —”

Your words fall into a void as he kisses you with no hesitation. Hands cupping your wet face and holding the back of your neck to keep you close.

“You’re so fucking stupid. So, so smart and yet such an idiot when it comes to feelings,” he chuckles when he pulls away. “You said I was an unexpected thing that completely changed your flow but do you have any idea of what you were to me? You ruined my second year,” he confesses, and your face quickly shifts into a worried expression, but he clears your doubts right away.  

“I thought I could beat you, I thought I could have the upper hand and… you messed up my days and nights. I thought you couldn’t fill up so much of my time when I already had so many friends but, fuck, I was wrong. And instead of distracting you, I let you distract me.”

“But I — I didn’t plan it, I didn’t want to —”

His thumb shushes you as his eyes crease in a smile. “You didn’t do anything, I just miscalculated. I didn’t know the amazing person you are, and let jealousy consume me before love took its place without me even noticing.”

You almost gasp. “Love? So, you do love me back?”

He nods. “Strong word, I know. But goddam, you were ten times cheesier in the song.”

You laugh and he does the same.

“But I am hurt, though. I can’t believe you thought I was playing you.”

“What were the chances you were going to fall for me, too? Nobody ever falls for me.”

“Good thing you only needed me to fall for you,” he says, kissing you. “So… did you fall for me at the beach?”

“I was confused back then. I knew I felt something but I didn’t know what it was. I thought it was only attraction, but at the same time, I felt like I needed you, you know?”

“And to think I wasn’t even sure of taking you there,” he giggles.

“Really?”

He nods. “I wanted to study, I already felt like I was falling behind and I thought I could use those three days to catch up, but then you crossed my mind and I forgot about the rest.”

You look down to hide the big smile on your face. No, you’re not happy you almost made him fail his second year in this war, but you love knowing how much he cares about you. The old Donghyuck would’ve never confessed this, he would’ve never shown how weak you make him. But now he’s proudly telling you how you genuinely occupied his thoughts.

“I know I didn’t show signs of failure, but you did succeed in your plan just a bit.”

He snorts. “Don’t need fools gold.”

“No, I’m serious. I mean, maybe you’re right, you didn’t, but I think you succeeded in something better. You showed me I can achieve my academic goals and still live life. You showed me so much. I had fun on my own, and I loved it, but I also only had myself and nobody to count on, and that sucks.”

“I didn’t do it.”

“Yes you did, you pushed me out of my comfort zone and trust me, I did panic sometimes. I just hide it better. But you gave me the chance to meet seven amazing people allowing me in your friend’s group. Some of you have known each other for so long, that’s probably when I should’ve put my heart at ease and realised you truly cared about me.”

“You fail to understand how likeable you are. Everybody loves you, you just don’t pay them attention.”

You shrug. He’s probably right. You never cared about that, but you won’t start caring about it now. You found your people, you found your place.

Staying at his place for the night is tempting, but, truth be told, you two want to be on your own on your first night as lovers. So, with the excuse of wanting to eat an ice cream (not an excuse, you will eat ice cream), you slip out of the place.

The others don’t care. Honestly, it’s clear that everyone except you two was expecting this ending, but you will deal with this tomorrow at lunch with the girls. For now, you chuckle at Jeno’s wink before he rests his head on Renjun’s shoulder again, who barely waves goodbye before going back to the movie they’re watching. Mark seems to be the only one confused at the way your arms are linked when you walk through the living room, but you’re sure that Yangyang, who has a teasing smirk on his face, will fill him in as soon as you’re out of the door. Jaemin will sneak at the girls’ hang-out tomorrow, his face lets it all known.

“I love this place,” Donghyuck says when you enter your apartment.

“Really? This hole?” You chuckle, leaving your bag at the door and getting rid of your shoes.

He nods. “It’s cosy and quiet, and I get to have you all to myself.” Before he finishes the phrases he pulls you in his hold, almost making you lose your balance and you scold him.

“Can you be less clumsy?”

“Mhh... no.”

“Also, it’s not like not being alone ever stopped you from being the clingiest man on earth.”

He huffs, throwing his head back as he slowly starts walking backwards to reach the bed. “As if you don’t like it.”

“You got us many suspicious looks,” you complain.

“Girl, everybody knew about us,” he says, falling on the bed with you. “I fear they were betting on a situationship but well, we didn’t do anything to keep this on the low.”

You shrug. “Whatever,” you say, caressing his face to move the hair on his eyes. “I don’t care. Tonight I just want to think about us.”

“Now you’re talking,” he hums happily. “Can I get a chocolate-less kiss?”

You laugh. “You can get all the kisses you want.”

Your lips connect to his to start a sweet kiss that lasts for a while. You never truly pull away as your hands start moving on each other to get rid of the clothes and leave you half-naked on the bed.

“Wanna taste you,” he murmurs, rolling around so your back is on the mattress before he starts going down. His fingers hook with the band of your panties and pull them down. “A bush?”

You huff. “I was just a bit busy, and didn’t have time to shave.”

“Good. I hope you don’t find time to do it ever again,” he says making you laugh.

“You like it?” You ask.

“I love it,” he replies.

You don’t have time to react because his lips are on you as soon as he's done talking. Your hips buck up and you fail to hold back the moans.

Donghyuck takes his sweet time, licking up stripes to get you wet before he starts sucking on your hardening clit.

Your head rolls back against the pillow and your hands can’t help but tangle in his hair to pull him closer. The groan of pleasure that comes out of his mouth at your gesture makes you tremble.

“So fucking sweet for me,” he mumbles against you. “My sweet girl.”

A dumb grin curls your lips and your eyes try to open to get a glimpse of him. You regret that action cause his pretty face smashed against you as he eats you out as if you're his last meal sends shivers straight to your core.

“Please,” you whimper, making him open his eyes to stare at you. Your throat tightens and you feel like you might pass out from that, but still force yourself to finish the phrase. “Don’t stop, you’re so good. I — I never felt like this.”

He grins, pulling away only to reply. “Yeah? Am I that good?”

You groan. He’s still so competitive and always has to prove a point. But you don’t care. That’s fun. That’s what you love about him. “Yes, you’re that good. Just please, keep doing it.”

“Never planned of stopping.”

When his mouth starts moving on you again you see stars. Your neck falls behind, enjoy the softness of the pillow, and you stop trying to keep it together, moaning loudly and chanting his name.

His hands wrap around your thighs, keeping you close to his mouth. And each flick of his tongue pushes the climax closer, making you see stars.

Your breath gets messier as you hit your peak and pleasure takes over your body as you let go to that blissful sensation running inside you.

You’re still gasping for air when you feel his fingers prodding at your entrance, slowly entering you.

“Hyuck, what are you—?”

“I want you to be ready for me,” he says. “I won't make you come another time, I promise. Just getting you wetter.”

You mumble a sound that makes no sense before you decide to relax and enjoy the sensation. It’s not like you would ever complain about his fingers, you simply don’t want to be too sensitive already. But he’s true to his words, his two fingers fuck into you, curling up right on your sweet spot, turning you on more and coating them white.

“Always so good for me,” he praises when he pulls out, sucking them harshly before he leans in to kiss you. Your hands wrap in his hair as you pull him closer, letting your legs wrap around his waist to pull him down. “Damn, calm down,” he chuckles close to your lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know, but I want you close.”

Donghyuck smiles. “Unhook your legs for a moment and I’ll be as close as possible.”

Reluctantly, you do as ordered, knowing that as soon as he’ll slip in, your legs will be exactly in the same place.

You barely pay attention when he does, too focused on the gentle kisses he's leaving on the crown of your head, cheeks and neck. Your eyes only open when he bottoms in and brings your legs around himself.

“Happy now?” He asks, brushing behind a few strands of hair that fell on your face.

“More than happy,” you reply smiling. Your body moves on its own when your hips buck up against him, eliciting a deep moan to slip past his lips.

That’s the sign he needs to know he can start moving. One hand places on your waist to keep you in place and the other supports his body as he starts dragging his hips out.

You can feel your heart skip a beat when he leans down and hides in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “You always smell so good, that’s what tricked me to always be close to you,” he mumbles, nibbling your skin.

You chuckle, shaking your head. Even now he has something to say. Still, his words don’t distract him from his actions. With each stroke, he hits deep inside of you, hitting sensitive spots that make your toes curl and your fingers close into fists on the sheets.

After finding the perfect angle, Donghyuck starts speeding up, his thrusts not harsh but fast enough to build up a steady rhythm. And, with each one, you feel a wave of pleasure invading you.

“Come here,” you whisper, cupping his face to pull him close. “Wanna kiss you.” Your lips are on his right away and you both let go to a long passionate kiss as the hold of your legs around his waist tightens. One hand leaves his face to run on his back, feeling his muscles flex.

Your moans get louder with every passing second but they end up muffled in the messy kiss you’re still sharing.

When his hand sneaks between your bodies, so he can touch your clit in quick circular motions, you know you won’t last much longer. Your walls clench hard around him, and more wetness coats him as your hips buck up for more friction. And the last drop comes from his lips, leaving yours to wrap around your sensitive nipples.

“Hyuck,” your voice trembles as you call for him. Pleading eyes looking up at him. You should say something sex-related, maybe praise how good he’s making you feel, or how close you are, but even if those are the thoughts on the tip of your tongue, the words that come out are completely different. “I love you,” you whisper in a hush, feeling the weight disappear from your chest. Saying it clearly is like finally coming to the real realization.

Donghyuck smiles, kissing you repeatedly on the lips. “I love you, too.”

And soon after, you both reach your peak. The pleasure shoots through your bodies like fireworks in the sky.

You stay like that for a few minutes, kissing each other as you wait for your bodies to calm down.

When he slips out of you gently, putting his shirt under your body to avoid a mess, you still have a dumb, but content, smile on your face.

You don’t have the energy to move, so you lay there as you watch him move around to grab new clothes and two glasses of water. Just the time to pull yourself together, and you’re once again under the bedsheets, cuddled up against each other. You relax at the feeling of his fingers rubbing circles on the back of your neck and let his heartbeat be a sweet melody.

Mamma Mia is playing on the TV, but none of you has much energy to sing along to ABBA’s songs —he has a bit more than you as he hums the words.

When he chuckles, you look up at him.

“What’s so funny?” You ask, staring at the tv with a frown on your face. The SOS scene not being exactly one of the funniest one.

“I was thinking about us,” he says.

“I do hope we won’t end up like this.”

“Yeah, no, but you ended up being my Waterloo, I guess,” he whispers, looking at you. And then you get it, remembering when he sang it to you.

“I told you,” you reply, making him gasp offended. “What? You expected me to say something nice? You mocked me, you bragged and I cursed you with eternal love for me.”

Donghyuck laughs and then wraps his arms around you to pull you flatter against him, resting his chin on your head.

“You know this doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying to beat you, right?” He chuckles, but when you lift your gaze, getting a glimpse of him, you see his serious expression. And you hope he's true to his intention and that that spark set by your ambition will never die.

You smile smugly before relaxing against his warm embrace. “Yeah, but we’ll see if I’ll let you.”

YEARS LATER

“Is everything alright? Why are you looking at us like this?” You ask, shifting on your seat on the couch, looking at the girl in front of you.

“Is it true?”

“What?” Donghyuck says.

“Is it true that you two couldn’t stand each other?” She says, big brown eyes staring at you with curiosity.

You quirk a brow, giving your full attention to your daughter. “Why this sudden question?”

“Cause it’s embarrassing to see tweets of people going insane over you two, but also I think it’s unfair how these strangers seem to know more about my parents than me.”

You and Donghyuck laugh. “And what do they say?"

She rolls her eyes. “That they can’t believe you hated each other and that you started dating her to distract her but ended up falling for her?”

You look at each other smirking before a tender, nostalgic smile takes its place.

“Would it be so terrible?” He asks, tilting his head.

She thinks about it for a moment and then replies. “It would be a bit embarrassing for you, Dad. But also... cute. So?”

“I’d say it’s true,” he replies, shrugging.

“Wait, so you really started dating because you hated each other?” She screams, sitting straight on the loveseat, leaning toward you with her body.

You chuckle. “We didn’t hate each other. We believed we could outdo the other. And your father did too much, as always.”

“You were miserable before me,” Donghyuck replies, tightening his hold around your waist. “I had a plan, and it would’ve worked.”

You roll your eyes. “Imagine thinking you could make me fall in love and not fall in love with me,” you say to your daughter. “I was a real heartbreaker back then.”

“You still are,” she replies, smiling. “My friends go insane every time they realize who my parents are.”

Your daughter never brags about being your child. The famous singer, producer, and dancer Haechan, and you, who had a good launch as a singer before you realized that wasn’t your world and decided to stick to be a choreographer and PR manager (well, mostly Donghyuck’s choreographer and his manager). But everyone close to her knows who she is, and it’s not easy to act nonchalantly about it.

She has heard many stories about you two. The gossip about your story running wild since you broke into the industry. But you never sat down and explained it to her, not until now.

“We still have our charm,” Donghyuck laughs.

“I think the most important thing is your love and that you might be the best parents in the world. But I’m saying it officially only if you don’t turn it into a race.”

“Us? Turning something into a competition? We would never,” Donghyuck jokes.

She rolls her eyes, huffing loudly. And you can’t help but smile thinking how similar to your husband she looks right now.

“Honey, forgive us. How do you think we’re still having so much fun after all these years? That’s how we thrive, we learned how to push each other healthily.”

“Yeah, fine, I’m glad your love story is still perfect, but seriously, no competition when it comes to me. I love you both so much.”

“Come here,” you say, patting the space in front of you on the couch. Hugging her when she sits down between you two. “You are the only thing we won’t turn into a competition.”

Donghyuck hums in agreement, wrapping his arm around you two. “We both won with you.”

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

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

@girlwholoveslpreppyattire, @viciousdarlings, @hyuckmoon,

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@beomgyusonlywife, @toroufriteh, @yesohhsehun, @shxnz

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[jagibee]

Call Me Luna

(Stray Kids x Reader)

Chapter 8

5,994 Words

A/N: A bit of a longer chapter as an apology for taking so long but also bc it was originally supposed to be two chapters and I just couldn’t find a good split point😭, and I did change the story title bc I got bored with Stray Pack but this is the same story and plot, and I’m sorry but my taglist is at its limit (which I didn’t even know existed?) so if I didn’t tag you on this post, it will be on the reblog!

Also, Happy Birthday to the love of my life who isn’t in this chapter nearly enough, but will be in the next chapter. Bang Chan, you have brought me a light and inspiration that I haven’t felt in a very long time and even if you have no idea who I am, you will always be the one for me🖤

Also

Nobody:

Me with the foreshadowing in this chap:

Let’s get started!

TW: references to sex, mentions of spanking (not necessarily sexual but could be interpreted that way)

…

You all settled down so that they could get through recording. Felix was sandwiched between you and Hyunjin, just as a small precaution in order to prevent any more growling. On your other side was Jisung and Seungmin sat on Hyunjin’s other side, providing extra padding against alphas. Chan and Changbin were both at the sound table and Minho was currently being recorded, so you didn’t have to worry much about them getting too close anyway, at least, not at this exact moment. Jeongin himself was settled at Felix’s feet like a trusty guard dog.

You, Chan, and Felix had all taken off your scent blockers as well, which helped to calm Innie down.

Minho was the last one recording, so everyone was a bit subdued. Changbin had paced around a bit while being sure to keep enough space between him and Jeongin. When the youngest alpha had recorded, everyone in the room held their collective breath, but he seemed to be doing fine.

Next to you, Jisung had leaned down so he was laying down on the couch with his feet splayed out in front of him, body posture indicating that he was zoning out, but one look at his eyes told you that he was paying rapt attention to what was happening in the recording box and at the table.

On your other side, Felix leaned his head against you and pulled out his phone instead of watching the older boys.

He pulled up Twitter and started scrolling through. You wanted to give him some privacy, but curiosity got the best of you. It’s not like he’s actively turning his phone away, you told yourself.

Once the word ‘caretaker’ caught your eye, you gave up the pretense and shifted even closer. The movement caused Felix to notice and he tilted his phone so you could see it more easily. “They’re sort of all over the place with the caretaker news.” He told you, deep voice soft as he tried to not interrupt the others. “Some people are really supportive of it but of course there are some people who think that either caretakers are sasaengs who manipulated the system so that you could be close to us, or that you’re going to steal our attention away from our fans.”

“Both of those statements are true, also, did I forget to mention I’m a spy from Dispatch meant to expose your secrets?”

Felix giggled and you let your eyes scan over the comments.

Maybe if y’all stanned TXT this wouldn’t have happened🤷‍♀️

tell this random weirdo to stay away from my lixie!!!!!!!

YALL IVE CONNECTED THE DOTS THE CARETAKER IS THE ONE IN FELIX’S BUBBLE POST

Reading over the last one, you bumped your shoulder lightly against Felix. “What exactly did your bubble post say?”

He frowned. “It just said ‘lunch with a new friend’ with a yellow heart emoji. It’s kind of impressive that they did actually connect the dots.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Well, at least people probably won’t recognize me out on the street just from my hand.”

Felix smiled and went back to scrolling, giggling at a semi-professional debate about what Lee Know would give up for the rest of his life between pudding or butt hunting.

Said pudding lover and butt hunter then finished recording, striding out of the recording box as Chan spun his chair to face the rest of the room. Changbin rolled his own chair across the floor until it stopped in front of Minho, who grabbed it and spun it so he could sit in Changbin’s lap. Changbin squeaked in surprise but didn’t make any signs of protest when Minho brought the younger’s arms to wrap around his waist.

“Alright,” Chan began, “I think it’s pretty much a free day from here on. I know Jisung has a vocal lesson and Hyune wants to talk to Y/N, but other than that, I’ll be in the studio and Minho is going to be going over choreography so if anyone wants to join either of us, feel free.”

“But not too free, I need a break from you degenerates sometimes.” Minho retorted from where his head lay against Changbin’s shoulder.

You missed what Chan said in response as you leaned across the back of the couch behind Felix to consult Hyunjin. “You wanted to talk to me?”

His wide eyes met yours then quickly moved to Felix’s hair as Hyunjin started twirling it nervously between his fingers. “Yeah. Chan-hyung said we should talk about my h-heat. Especially since it comes so quick after Felix’s that we might not have enough time between our heats to properly talk.”

You could hear the other members join Chan and Minho’s discussion, but your focus remained on Hyunjin. “That’s a good idea,” you murmured, “But you don’t want Chan or another member to sit in with us?”

He shook his head, glancing back at you and biting his lip. You didn’t want to push him when he was so clearly nervous so you nodded and turned back to the others.

Right next to you, Jisung was declaring that “this group is not a democracy, hyung”.

“Sungie, you are the one person in this room that has a strict schedule today.”

“Don’t you start with me, Kim Seungmin-”

“Okay, okay!” Chan raised his hands. “I think that’s enough. So, Han will go to his lesson, Jinnie and Y/N will talk, Seungmin and Felix will come to the studio with me, and Bin and Iyen will go with Lino to the dance studio. Wait.” He paused and turned to you. “Is it okay to have Innie with the two members he’ll be aggressive towards?”

You considered it for a moment. “I think it should be fine. It might actually be better, hypothetically, since Innie won’t have to deal with either of them getting too close to Felix, so I think he’ll actually be less aggressive.”

“If my aegi-alpha gets too aggressive, I’ll just give him a good spanking.”

Chan turned to Minho and stared at him, narrowing his eyes while his knuckles turned white from his grip on his chair arms.

Instead of retracting his statement or apologizing for it, Minho simply basked in the attention, leaning back against Changbin and crossing his arms with a smirk on his face.

You glanced at Jeongin to see his reaction, but he was a bit preoccupied with Felix’s fingers running through his hair. Innie’s eyes were shut as he leaned his head back in between Felix’s knees.

You felt like you were intruding on a special moment, so you looked up and your gaze met Chan’s. He had a soft smile as he glanced from you to the two boys.

He blinked as if coming out of a trance and cleared his throat. “So, everyone know where they’re going?”

“Wait, hyung!” Jisung’s hand shot up in the air like he was a student eager to be called on. “I know you told us that we can be comfortable around Y/N-noona, but exactly how comfortable is that? Like, is it the same level as we are with our managers, or our makeup noonas or what?”

Chan smiled at him and swiveled his chair to face him more directly. “Since Y/N’s job actually involves a little more… familiarity with our group, especially when it comes to our emotional and physical health, I figured that we could be a little more open with her. She knows about our relationship and everything. The company did ridiculously thorough background checks and she’s signed several NDAs, so we can be as honest with her as we want.”

Han scooted forwards until he was barely on the couch and gestured with his hand for Chan to come closer. When Chan rolled his chair over, Jisung leaned to whisper in his ear. Whatever he said caused Chan to giggle. “Yes, we can kiss in front of her.”

“Oh.” Jisung blinked twice. “Well, in that case…” He grabbed Chan’s collar, pulled him close, and planted an obnoxious, cartoon-level, lip-smacking kiss right on the alpha’s lips.

Chan sputtered and his ears burned as he pulled away. “I meant- why did- you didn’t have to kiss me now!”

“Nope.” Jisung wiped his mouth with the back of his hand theatrically. “But I enjoyed it.”

…

Once everyone had reapplied their scent blockers and straightened themselves up, you followed Hyunjin out of the recording room.

Instead of going to the small meeting room like you did with Chan and Felix, Hyunjin led you in the opposite direction you had come from.

He fidgeted with his hands as he walked you rode down the elevator. First, they fiddled with his jacket buttons, then his rings, then tapped against his thighs.

It was obvious he was nervous, but you didn’t want to make him even more so by pointing it out.

The two of you made your way into a room and you realized that it was the same small dance studio you had met Hyunjin in.

He stopped in the middle of the room and frowned at the wooden crates you had all sat on last time. “I guess we could move them so we sit across from each other, that seems the most professional,” he murmured while rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb.

Your mind blanked for a second before you refocused. “Well, this doesn’t have to be super professional. No one is grading you,” you joked. “Here, we can even chill on the floor if you want.” You brought some cushions from a stack in the corner of the room and brought them to the middle of the crates.

Hyunjin smiled at you and adjusted one of the cushions before sitting down on it.

You placed your own cushion on the ground across from him and pulled one of the crates over so you could use it as a back rest.

You sank down and Hyunjin smiled at you politely. “Where should we start, noona?”

You pulled your bag over and pulled out the file on him and his bandmates. Handing it over, you told him, “What Felix and I started with was going over the information the company gave me so that you know what I know and you can tell me if there’s anything wrong or anything big that the company doesn’t know or didn’t share with me. I don’t want to be overly nosy or creepy or anything, but as a caretaker, it’s important that I know things that relate to both your physical and mental health. Also, client confidentiality applies in my job, so I couldn’t tell your company anything even if I wanted to, unless it involves you hurting yourself or others.”

Hyunjin blinked at you wide-eyed, the file bending slightly in his tight grip. Then, his eyes narrowed and his lips pouted slightly.

You felt your own fists clenching around the straps of your bag at the sight, but you collected yourself when he started to speak.

“I thought you were hired by the company. Doesn’t that make them your client?”

Your smile widened at him. “What a smart question!” At this, you could see the corners of his mouth flicker up. “The company is my employer, but they hired me to be a caretaker for you, not for the company. If I had to be a caretaker for everyone in this entire company, I would scream.” You raised your eyebrows playfully. “Could you imagine if I went up to JYP and asked him to tell me about his sex life?” You shuddered theatrically.

Hyunjin let out a startled exhale which quickly morphed into full-on cackling. He threw his head back and clapped, leaning backwards and almost falling over which only caused him to laugh harder. You giggled along with him, relieved that the slight tension was dissolving.

Once you two managed to mostly calm down, he looked at you with his hand hovering in front of his mouth. “Oh my god. “‘“Oh my god”’”. Eugh!” He scrunched up his face and stuck his tongue out in disgust, which just set off another round of laughter for both of you.

You took some deep breaths and noticed Hyunjin doing the same. You both smiled at each other and he ducked his head as he went to pick up the file he had dropped when he started clapping.

He flipped through it and got to the page with his information. As his eyes scanned the page, his smile slowly faded.

“Not particularly possessive of my nests? The only reason I’m not possessive is because they’re my pack! My m- my band! They’re always welcome in my nests! I may not be as protective as Felix but it’s not like I would let just anyone in!”

Noticing his distress, but most notably, the lack of a distressed scent, you realized that you both still had your scent blockers on. You took yours off and allowed your calming scent to sweep the room. It wouldn’t be as potent to Hyunjin while he had his own scent blockers on, but you hoped he could sense it nonetheless.

You didn’t want to touch him without his consent, so you gently pushed the file down, away from where it covered his face, gaining his attention and making it easier for him to see you.

You smiled at him. “Hey, Hyunjin. You want to take a deep breath for me?”

He blinked at you twice before nodding and inhaling. He held it for a second before his cheeks puffed out as he exhaled.

“Good job! Now, I know that you’re probably upset since the company is making these assumptions about you based on limited information. I would be, too. But, since you aren’t exactly inviting your managers into your nests, does it really matter what they think about you?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he considered it. After a minute, he shook his head.

“No, it doesn’t matter. And the ones whose opinions you do care about know that you keep the nest open to them because you trust them and love them. I promise you, they don’t think any lesser of you because of the way you keep your nests.”

Hyunjin’s tense eyes softened around the edges. “I guess… that makes sense.”

Your voice took on a more teasing tone. “Do you not believe me? I could call Chan right now, and I’m certain that he would march on down from his studio just to tell you how wonderful your nests are. And I’m certain that your other packmates would be right behind him.”

Hyunjin smiled shyly as he traced a shape on the ground that vaguely resembled a heart. “Yeah, they would.”

You tapped on the file still in his other hand. “Now that that’s settled, is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Hyunjin put the file down on the floor and rested his hands on top of it, like he was trying to press it into the ground. He turned his head to look at the wall of mirrors next to you and you could see him swallow. His eyes flickered back to meet yours and you could see the pure vulnerability in them. “Since you’ve been so upfront and honest with all of us, I figure I should return the favor. I… In Korea, male omegas- or, just, omegas in general, I guess, are sort of taught to hide their heats? Or, not hide them exactly, but it’s not something you really talk about? Not even with other omegas. We’re pretty much taught that heats are signs of weakness or that they’re gross to talk about, so you sort of pretend that they don’t exist, even when we would get a week off of school or work.”

He paused to look down at his hands and you waited while he took a second.

“When Felix first came over, obviously there were a lot of cultural differences between Australia and Korea. He would casually mention how he was nervous about spending his heats here. Channie-hyung and Minho-hyung helped him the most, not just because they’re the oldest, but because Chan could sympathize with the change in culture and Minho… had a lot of omegan friends back in Gimpo when he was growing up. Even when Felix got used to spending his heats here, he still never really stopped talking about them. Of course he didn’t say anything when we went out in public or anything like that, but he never tried to hide it around us.” Hyunjin’s mouth curled up at the corners. “There was this one time when we were in the dressing room and he was complaining about his pre-heat cramps loud enough for all of the staff to hear. Changbinnie-hyung’s face was so red,” he snickered.

Suddenly, his face sobered up. “I really wish I had been there for him more. As the other omega in our pack, it should have been me, but at that moment, I just felt… all I felt was shame. Shame for him, for letting other people know that he had heats, shame for me, for being the other omega and being afraid that people would think that I would talk about my heat in the same way, shame for the poor staff members who had to listen to that,” Hyunjin took a deep breath. “But then, one of the coordi-noonas came up and recommended a good painkiller brand, and one of our managers told Felix that they could buy some ice cream on the way home, and I… I was so amazed. Talking about anything related to heats was supposed to be this horrible, embarrassing thing, but instead, Felix just got sympathy and support.”

Hyunjin looked back up at you and stared deep into your eyes. “I know that I don’t like to talk about my heats, even after seeing that and being with Felix all this time, but I know that you’re here to help me and my pack, so I’m going to do my best to not be ashamed anymore.”

You took Hyunjin’s hands in yours. “Thank you so much for telling me. I really-”

You were suddenly interrupted by his stomach doing its best impression of a whale song. His eyes widened before he hid his face in his hands. “Talk about embarrassing and shameful. I guess we forgot to eat lunch.”

You cackled and stroked his shoulder in what you hoped was a soothing way. “Well,” you giggled, “should we get some now? I’m pretty hungry, too, now that you mention it.”

Hyunjin’s hands slid from his face as he looked back up at you. “Hmm. I’m kind of craving something sweet.” He turned until he was lying on the floor with his face turned towards the ceiling.

As you scooted over to lay down beside him, he sat up and stared at you with his eyes lit up. “I have a genius idea! Have you tried any good Korean snacks since you moved here, noona?”

You thought back to everything that happened since you got off the plane. “Uh… not really? There were some chips or something in the hotel room but I didn’t want to spend the company money on ridiculous stuff like that.”

Hyunjin waved his hand dismissively. “Even if you did eat them, it wouldn’t really count. Expensive places always overcharge for mediocre things.” He set his hand back on the floor and turned back to you. “Do you know what this means?”

“That I need to order more of my own snacks from home before I run out?”

“No!” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, but you could see a hint of mirth in them. “Well, yes, noona, you should definitely do that. And order some for us to try. But we should raid the vending machine and have a taste testing! I even stole Binnie-hyung’s credit card this morning, so we can use that!”

You giggled at his enthusiasm for both having a taste testing and using his member’s money to pay for it. “I’m up for it if you are, but if Changbin finds out, I’m pinning everything on you. He’ll probably go easy on you, anyway.”

Hyunjin shrugged, his expression somewhere between fond and smug. “Yeah, he’ll definitely go easy on me. Especially when I tell him our pretty noona coerced me into it. He’ll understand. How am I supposed to say no to that? Anyway, we could also get some snacks to drop off at the dance studio after we’re done with our taste test, I’m sure that Changbin-hyung and Innie would be glad for a snack break.”

“I- okay.” You stuttered, trying not to fixate on the phrase “our pretty noona”. “Let’s do a taste testing. Lead the way to the vending machines.”

After reapplying your scent blocker, you both made your way down two flights of stairs and down a long hallway before you came to the vending machine. Hyunjin explained that there was one closer to the room you were in, but that this one had better snacks.

You stopped in front of the vending machine, a little surprised at how high tech it looked. You were more used to ones with sticky buttons that refused to take your dollars more often than not and that you would occasionally have to shake to free your snack. This one had a whole mini snack elevator.

“Let’s see, Innie likes these cheesy crackers, Changbin-hyung will cry if he finds out we used his credit card and didn’t get him anything, so let’s get him the barbecue chips, and this is Lino-hyung’s favorite pudding…”

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you watched Hyunjin mutter to himself about his bandmates’ snack preferences. “You’re so considerate of your packmates,” you told him.

He blinked at you in surprise, like he had forgotten you were standing there with him. “Ah, well, it’s really more of a survival tactic. I have had one too many pudding lectures from hyung, so if I show up with the wrong one, who knows what he’ll do to me?”

Back in the studio, you spread your bounty around the two of you, like you were preparing for hibernation. The three snacks for the boys in the other dance studio were carefully set off to the side, so that neither of you would mistakenly eat them.

“So,” you started, “I know the nest thing sort of threw you off, but is there anything else you think I should know before your heat? It can be anything, things you like to avoid, your favorite things to nest with, things you like to eat,” you asked, shaking the bag of chips you were currently eating from. They were a bit different than what you were used to, but still pretty good.

Hyunjin hummed around a ring-shaped gummy. “Well, I like to do laundry before my heats and then get my members to scent my stuff. I just feel a bit icky when I’m not sure when the last time I washed something was. Felix likes to bake during his preheat, which is sort of perfect because I eat more than usual during my preheat, so I can just eat whatever he made and put in the fridge. But I don’t like eating during my actual heat. As for the stuff in my nest… I have this scarf that Seungminnie bought for me once when we visited Paris. And Lino-hyung gave me a scrunchie that he drew a bunch of Jureumis on that I like to wear on my wrist. Also, Jisungie got me a dumpling plushie that also has a hot water bag inside. I have some other things from the members, too, but those are the first things that come to mind. Most of the other stuff is pillows and blankets. Felix likes fluffier blankets in his nest, but I like the smoother, silkier ones. And I love having my members in my nests with me. Also, I have at least three fans going on at the same time because I hate how hot I get. I do react a bit… dramatically when my members accidentally move something in my nest, which sort of confuses me a bit because that really only happens during my heats.”

You quickly brought out your notebook and pen and scribbled down all the information Hyunjin had given you. As you wrote semi-legibly, you did your best to talk to him at the same time.

“Well, that’s definitely a heat-brain thing. Do you only feel anger or annoyance at your pack when they move your nest around or is it something else, too?”

Hyunjin stopped chewing and set down the bag of candy. “I guess… it does hurt a bit. At first. And then I growl or nip them or something like that.” He shrugged dismissively.

“And that hurt, could it be that your anger is sort of a way to get around it or cover it up?”

He looked up to meet your gaze and squeezed the plastic package so it crinkled. “That… it could definitely be that, I suppose. I think… my brain is sort of telling me that my packmates are changing my nest because they don’t like the way I arranged it.”

You nodded and set down your notebook. “Well, I know that no matter what I say, during your heat, your omega is still likely going to react like that because you don’t have the same level of brain processing power as you do when you aren’t in heat, but maybe, hopefully, you’ll feel less guilty about it afterwards. Hyunjin, you know that your members love your nests. They don’t want to move it or change it, and from what they’ve told me, they always try to move carefully so that they don’t offend you. They also understand that you’re protective of your nests and that you react, as you put it, dramatically. They know that that can be a risk to stepping into your nest, but I am sure that it’s worth it to them. Even if they get nipped or growled at, they made the choice to enter your nest and they obviously think that it was worth it if they come back again and again.”

Hyunjin watched you with wide eyes before his face broke out into a soft smile. “Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. Plus, Lino-hyung bites the others enough that they should be able to deal with me if I bite them once or twice during my heat, even if I bite them a bit harder than he does.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes and leaned backwards until he was lying down. “I can’t believe I’m in a relationship with those losers.”

You smiled at him, glad that he could go from serious topics to more light-hearted ones. You grabbed another candy bag and a question formed in your brain.

“What exactly does the company know about your relationship?” You asked, tearing open the packet, this one with cartoon purple lizards advertising how “de-liz-cious” the gummies were.

Hyunjin hummed, popping a chocolate-covered cracker into his mouth. Once he chewed and swallowed it, he passed the bag to you.

“The company knows that we help each other through our heats and ruts, that’s why they had you sign a bunch of NDAs,” he told you, “but they don’t exactly know about the actual relationship between us. They know Hannie and Lino-hyung go out together, but they don’t know they’re actually going out together. They know Binnie-hyung flirts with me, but they don’t know that I flirt back when the cameras are off. They know that Chan-hyung and Felix sleep together a lot but they don’t know that they sleep together a lot.” He paused. “And I mean a lot. Honestly, most of the time, sleeping seems to be the last thing on their minds. Horny losers.” He shook his head fondly before refocusing. “The company tells us to play things up for the camera a bit for fan service, but what they don’t know is that we’re actually toning it down.” He finished with a smirk.

You grinned. “Wow. So they don’t know you’re in a relationship at all?”

“Nope. Just our families and some of our friends know. And now you, noona.” Hyunjin rolled over and stretched his arms out. “I guess we are pretty affectionate towards each other around our staff, but I think the whole 8-members thing actually throws them off. Poly packs aren’t as common as they used to be, so it probably hasn’t even occurred to them. They likely assume that some of us are together, just in couples, but they’ve never asked us outright, I think they’re fine with acting ignorant as long as we don’t let them or the public know anything.”

You had collected all of the empty snack bags and were about to throw them away while Hyunjin stretched his arms above his head. “So, is there anything else you want to tell me? I feel like we covered a lot, but just let me know if there’s something else.”

Hyunjin had moved on to stretching his back but paused to smile at you and shake his head. “No, I think we talked about everything we needed to, noona.”

“Okay.” You collected your notebook and bag before shoving the extra snacks in there as well. “Do you think now is a good time to interrupt the dance practice?”

Hyunjin stood up gracefully and sighed. “It’s always a good time to interrupt dance practice. I think Changbin-hyung and Innie will be eternally grateful to you.”

“Not you?” You questioned. “You picked out the snacks and it was your idea.”

He waved his hand dismissively as you made your way out of the dance studio and into the elevator. “They’ll be grateful for about five minutes until they conveniently forget it. Or they’ll ask me why I didn’t come and save them earlier.”

The elevator ride was silent, but much more comfortable than when the two of you had been in the same elevator earlier. You stepped out into the hallway, following Hyunjin until he came to a door on the right.

He peeked in through the window and smiled before gently opening the door.

The song and dance they were doing weren’t as intense as some of their other tracks and routines, it was a B-side they recorded earlier that day, and were still dancing to the guide version, but you could see that they were putting in the exact same amount of effort, no matter what the tempo or sound quality was. Their moves were soft, almost floaty, but they were still very deliberate and precise.

You saw Minho’s eyes glance at you and Hyunjin in the mirror from where he was at the front of the formation, but he gave no other acknowledgment of your presence.

I.N and Changbin also noticed you, but they were less smooth about it. Changbin faltered in his movements and Innie fell behind rhythm.

“Yah, finish up the song, brats. Then we can take a break.”

At Lee Know’s words, the other two seemed to come alive, dancing with more energy than before. The song wasn’t much longer, and their positioning for the ending pose almost made you laugh out loud. Of course, the dance was meant to be for eight members, and there were quite a few missing, so there was Minho and Innie posed together on one side of the studio and Changbin all alone on the other side. Evidently Hyunjin shared the same thoughts as you, but didn’t keep quiet about laughing, even as you two clapped politely.

“Oh, my Binnie-hyung, are you lonely over there?” Hyunjin teased.

Changbin unfroze from his pose to flop down on the wood floor, all splayed out and breathing heavily, but focused on Hyunjin. In a high-pitched voice, he called out, “Yah, Hyunjin, I’m always lonely when I’m away from you!” He wriggled on the floor in a way that you guessed was supposed to be cute, but his obvious lack of energy made it seem more like a fish flopping around on land.

Hyunjin giggled and walked over to Changbin, squatting and grabbing the alpha’s outstretched hand as he murmured something you couldn’t hear.

Innie had flopped down as well, almost mirroring Changbin as he took deep breaths. Minho had walked over to turn the music off, and then sat on the couch with a water bottle.

Seeing that he was mostly okay, you turned back to I.N. “Hey, little alpha. Do you want me to bring you your water bottle?”

Jeongin let out a loud groan that echoed around the studio. “Oh my gosh, noona, you are seriously my new favorite person. Yes, please. It’s the green one.”

You walked over to the wooden counter and retrieved the green water bottle. You spotted a blue and pink water bottle next to it and, deducing that it was Changbin’s, you handed it to Hyunjin to give it to Changbin before you headed back over to I.N.

You squatted next to him just as a loud groan pierced the air. “Y/N! You are welcome to stay with our group for the rest of our lives! I’m going to produce a song about you and sing it at every single concert and award show!”

You smirked at Changbin’s words as Innie thanked you for his water. “Just for brining you your water bottle? At least wait until you see what Hyunjin and I brought in my bag for you.”

Changbin sat up like he was possessed. “What do you have?”

You walked over to your bag and unzipped it, pulling out the barbecue chips Hyunjin had picked out. You tossed them over to Changbin, whose eyes widened as he caught them and read the label. “Yah, Y/N, how did you know I liked these?”

You shrugged as you made your way over to Minho, pudding in hand. “A certain omega packmate of yours might have told me. It was actually his idea, so make sure to thank him.”

Hyunjin had fully sat down next to Changbin, but now, Changbin tackled him onto his back and wriggled the two of them around like happy earthworms.

Minho smiled and thanked you as you handed him the pudding before peeling it open and lying down on the couch. You weren’t entirely sure how safe it was to eat the pudding like that, but he seemed confident in his abilities, like he had done this before, so you left him to it and walked over to Jeongin with the cheese crackers in hand.

Innie had been staring at the other two members, his expression one of disgust, but you could see the fondness sparkling in his eyes. “Gross,” he stated, as Changbin started kissing all over Hyunjin’s face.

“Hopefully, you’ll find this a little less gross,” you told him as you handed him the crackers.

His eyes lit up as he took the packet from you. “Thanks, noona.”

You zipped up your bag and threw it to the other side of the room. “You should be thanking Hyunjin, he picked them out for you.”

Jeongin frowned as he ripped open the snack package. “I don’t need to thank him. If anything, this is what I deserve as compensation for dealing with him.” His eyes wrinkled with his smile as he stuffed a cracker in his mouth. “Oh, thank you, noona! I’ve been extra hungry all day for some reason.”

You smiled and were about to respond when you were interrupted by Hyunjin flopping down next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. “Yes, thank you, noona. I’m really glad that you’re our caretaker. We haven’t known you for long, but I can tell that we’re going to love you.”

…

Sorry for any mistakes, I edited this and posted it in my college’s parking lot😭

Taglist:

(Bold means I can’t tag you, sorry for the inconvenience!)

@eastleighsblog

@detectivedoodle

@niaalove

@scarletrosesposts

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@yuhjoeyuh

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@freakinthesheets-excelexcel

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[op-sys-chaos]

DPxDC Prompt: He’s Gone, I’m Next

The post had an image that was blurred for gore. Upon clicking on it to reveal it, however, the viewer would see a child, mutilated, vivisected, and left in a field to rot when there were no more organs to take.

The caption was as follows:

“As unbelievable as it sounds, this was legal. They could’ve done even worse, though I don’t know how much worse you can get, and it still would be legal. He was alive and awake for all of this. They only discarded him when they finally removed his heart and he died.

Why, you ask? Well, his parents were scientists studying a compound. Nothing illegal, and only dangerous when handled improperly. But they studied it his whole life. With such prolonged exposure to it from a young age, he eventually had enough of it in his system that he pinged on the sensors of the organization that did this to him. Once they realized the source of the contamination was his parents, they scanned them and took them too. I haven’t seen their bodies yet, but I can only imagine that they’re already in the same state. And again, it’s perfectly legal. Because anyone who’s been exposed to this substance for a long time can be experimented on and destroyed and is legally non-sentient and non-sapient. This obviously wasn’t true. Just ask anyone who knew him. He was a normal kid with a normal life. He didn’t deserve this.

I’m his older sister. The only surviving member of my family. And they’re coming for me next.”

Below the caption was a link to the anti-ecto acts so that people could read the law for themself to see that it was legal.

The account was registered to Jazz Fenton. Some quick googling found Jazz Fenton of Amity park and her brother and parents. Danny Fenton’s death report, as well as Jack and Maddie Fenton’s, who had been found dead in the exact same way an hour after the post had gone out, were front page news in Amity Park. The other big news was that their local town hero had gone missing.

The information immediately went to the Justice League the second Oracle read the post and dug up the intel. They raced to do something about it. Some people began tackling the anti-ecto acts, trying to get them destroyed. There was plenty of public outrage to support their demise, since the post had gone viral. The rest of the heroes split up to find and protect Jazz.

They found her eventually, on the run. There was a ghost protecting her, so luckily she was safer than they’d feared. But why is this ghost only shooting at some JL members and not others when they converged on Superman’s position to try to talk to her? Why does this ghost only let some of them approach the girl?

Superman and Green Arrow, of all people, can get close to her. So they’re about to find out.

Or, Danny gets killed in human form, his parents sharing his fate moments later. They hadn’t done anything other than be ecto contaminated. Jazz, who’d been out with friends, had thankfully saw the vans around her house and gotten away safely with the help of Sam and Tucker, both of whom wanted to stay behind to save Danny instead of escaping with her, since they were in much less danger. Jazz wanted to too, but they told her they couldn’t protect her and save him. She agreed to let them do their thing, only for the three of them to stumble across Danny’s body on their way out of town. He’d been captured only an hour ago. Jazz took a photo and posted the post hours later, once she was safe. Sam and Tucker turned back around to go back to Amity and burn the GIW to the ground. Danny, now a full ghost, shows up as Phantom a bit later and starts protecting Jazz. But he’s not fully in his right mind - he was tortured and killed in the span of an hour - and he shoots at anyone who approaches Jazz. That is, unless he can sense that they’re ecto-contaminated, which any JL members who’ve died and resurrected are. After all, no one would sell out their own kind like that. …Right? Okay, so Phantom’s still on edge. But what part of his mind he’s currently in position of is solely focused on protecting his sister. She’ll make it out. She has to. (Jazz, meanwhile, is trying to heal Phantom’s mind as much as she can.)

[asnowfern]

(Probably) How not to teach someone how to fly

A/N: It’s @cassianappreciationweek !!!💕💕💕 I’m gonna try my best to post a drabble each day and this is a little baby Cazriel brotp to kickstart day 1: Flight! I hope you enjoy!

“You’re so terrible at this, it’s embarrassing.”

Azriel bit back a groan. He used his battered palms to push himself off the ground and brushed off the pine needles that had lodged themselves in multiple spans of exposed flesh. Not deigning to look up from the sandy grounds, he flipped off his camp-mate, “Fuck off”

Cassian gave a noncommittal shrug. “I could. It’s not like you can chase after me with that pathetic movement you call flying.”

The taunt wasn’t particularly searing. In fact, it was comparatively mild compared to what the other bastard or anyone else in the war-camp had once said to him. But after leaving multiple Azriel-shaped dents in the terrain over the past hour, he had just about had it.

His fist shot out by instinct. Azriel might not have the so-called natural Illyrian call for the air but the thrumming call for blood in his veins was undeniable and unquenchable.

The hit went unblocked, striking Cassian in the cheeks, who did nothing more than wear a vicious white smile. Azriel barely shook his shoulders out before Cassian retaliated, arms swinging, wings spread.

The duo rode on training-honed reflexes. Strike and dodge. Tackle and lock. Swerve and grapple. There was no finesse in the way the two males entangled in a brawl, swinging punches until one was pinned down to the ground in a chokehold.

Azriel barely resisted the urge to spit in Cassian’s face, the other sporting a victorious grin despite the blooming purple eye and split lip. He huffed instead, sending a blood streaked spit to the side. If it just very narrowly missed Cassian’s face then that was too bad.

Cassian released his limbs, letting him collapse into the ground while he himself leaned back to stand upright on his knees.

“Feeling better?” He asked with a smirk, stretching out a hand to him.

Azriel grunted as he accepted the hand.

“Good.” Cassian nodded before sliding a broad arm around his shoulders to hoist him up, another arm supporting the back of his knees into a ridiculous bridal hold.

Azriel sputtered. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Cassian barked a laugh and shot up into the star-flecked sky. The icy whip on their faces was somehow a relief from the blows each of them took just minutes before.

“You’ve been thinking too much,” Cassian commented as he glided through the sky, his voice as smooth as the flight. It was comforting, soothing. “Every muscle in your body is made for this. There’s no need to try steering or balancing with your arms. Those are irrelevant.”

They circled over the trees, climbing higher with each loop. The scream of the wind quieting down to a whisper, a lover’s caress. Eventually, the muscles in Cassian’s back tightened and he halted in midair. His wings outstretched, catching the airflow with the most minute of movements, the span of rust and ebony so wholly a part of him.

“You’ve just got to remember. You are Illyrian, no matter how much you like to forget sometimes. And we do not obey the wind, it obeys us.” With a last parting smirk, Cassian released Azriel.

He cursed the wavy hair idiot throughout his entire descent. Even more so when his wings caught him, the muscles in his back and wings finally working in tandem.

It didn’t last long and still resulted in another, albeit lighter, Azriel-shaped dent. The motion was still too much a stranger to him. But for the first time ever, Azriel thought that perhaps flying wasn’t all bad.

[stayteezdreams]

Halloween Requests - CLOSED

Status: CLOSED

These are requests for my 13 Days of Halloween in which I post 1 or more content posts every day from October 19th to the 31st. *some requests may not be written, and some may be saved to come out later on (if they are not strictly Halloween specific).

Who I write For: *will update if a member or group is requested too much

Ateez *No longer taking requests for Yunho!

Stray Kids

Seventeen

Tomorrow x Together

The Boyz

*all members of each group (x gn!reader)

13 Days of Halloween 2023 Masterlist

Things I do not write:

Detailed NSFW/Smut (suggestive content and PG13 is doable)

Pregnancy/child Content

Abuse/Member cheating

***Notes*** You can send in the number of the prompt(s) instead of the prompt itself if you want, but please specify which section it is from (dialogue, plot or scenario)

Feel free to send in your own ideas with or without prompts as well! These are just some ideas for inspiration :)

You can request 1-3 Prompts at once; feel free to mix and match or add a plot-line to your request.

If you are not sure who to request for, but like a prompt, go ahead and send a preferred group and the prompt and I will choose who to write it for.

*Crossed out Prompts are those I have received and are no longer available to request*

**No longer taking requests for** Ateez (all members) S.Coups Seungmin Bang Chan

Prompts under the cut!

Dialogue Prompts:

“I don’t think I’m alone in here.”

“This place creeps me out.”

“I thought I saw something.”

“Don’t you dare leave me in here alone.”

“You’re not scared of me?” “Should I be?”

"I don't believe in ghosts." "You will after tonight."

"If you say we should split up I will kill you."

“Love the costume but I’d rather see what’s under it.”

"Just because I'm not afraid of the dark, doesn't mean I like being in it"

"What do we do?" "Run!"

"Did you see that too?" "Yes." "Damn, I was hoping I was going crazy."

 “What do you do when a ghost has a crush on you? Asking for a friend.”

“I wonder, how many people are dead in that graveyard?” “Hopefully all of them…”

"Who needs a guardian angel when you can have a half-decent demon?"

"If I knew all it would take for you to hug me was a haunted house I would have brought you to one earlier."

"I've seen enough horror movies to know where this is going"

"If you get scared you can hold onto me." "Oh you'd love that wouldn't you?" "Very much."

"Are you scared?" "No." "Then why are you holding onto me so tightly?"

"I couldn't find a costume so I decided to come as your boyfriend."

"Where is that music coming from?"

"You look stupid" "I'm dressed as you."

"I know what you should be for Halloween." "What?" "Mine."

"Ghosts aren't real" "Then why is that person see-through?"

"I don't want you to wear that"

"Stop touching my hand." "I'm not touching your hand."

"Why is that guy staring at me?" "What guy?"

"Would you stop breathing so loudly!?" "I thought that was you"

"Why wont you come inside?" "You have to invite me in." "What are you, a vampire?"

"All the Angels were busy, so they sent me instead." "And what are you?" "Well I'm definitely no angel."

"Stop staring at me like that." "If you didn't want me to stare, you shouldn't have worn that."

"Are you and 'x' dating?" "No, why?" "Then why are you wearing a couples costume?"

Plot Prompts:

You get left behind in a haunted house and one of the cute actors helps you out and gets revenge on said "friends".

Meeting at a Masquerade

Lost in the woods

Carnival/Fair Date

A grabs B’s hand instinctively out of surprise or fear, and continues to hold it.

Finding out the "monster" costume they're wearing isn't a costume (monster/demon/supernatural au)

Visiting a pumpkin patch

Every Halloween you are visited by a stranger in your dreams, but this year, he shows up at your door in the real world.

Haunted House

Someone summoned a demon to take your soul, but the demon likes you too much to hurt you.

Choosing each other's costumes, and unknowingly matching.

You're scared and they try their best to comfort you.

Hearing a noise upstairs, but you live alone.

Ghost Hunting

Vampire Frat - you know the guys in the house beside you are Vampires. But they don't know you're a witch. Until Halloween, when your powers grow stronger, they can't help but notice odd things happening around you.

A cute guy shows up trick or treating with their younger sibling/family member, he comes back later just to see you again.

At a Halloween themed carnival/fair and the scary yet attractive actor wont stop following you around.

Cinderella/Masquerade AU: You recognize them but they don't recognize you. Don't tell them who you are and they search for you (college/office au - or something similar?)

You save a cat/dog/other animals on the street, only to wake up the next day to find a man in it's place instead.

You move into your newly purchased house, only to discover someone or something already lives there.

Every Halloween for the last 5 years, a package mysteriously shows up in your house. This year, instead of a package, you find a stranger waiting for you.

Halloween Date

You are invited to an office Halloween party, and someone in a monster mask seems to want to keep you company. But who is it?

Jealousy: You attend a Halloween party and 'x' can't handle the attention you are getting from others, this causes them to make their feelings known.

College Au Carnival Game: Bobbing for apples but the apple you manage to get indicates who you will go on a date with.

Cozy autumn camping trip with friends leads to confession from someone.

They mistake you as their friend at a costume party and accidentally kidnap you.

Seven Minutes in Hell: You lose a game and have to spend 7 minutes in a haunted house with 'x'.

Halloween Movie Night: You have a movie night with your friends and your crush takes the opportunity to get cozy with you.

Abandoned: You are left in the woods by a bad friend, you know there is something or someone in the woods with you, but you get the feeling they're watching over you.

Scenario/Headcanons Prompts: *will do multiple members or whole group if requested *some of these might include drabbles

How 'x' reacts to you wearing a sexy/appealing costume

How 'x' reacts to you wanted to wear a couples costume + what you end up dressing as

What you would do for a Halloween/Autumn themed date

You choose each other's costumes

*Crossed out Prompts are those I have received and are no longer available to request*

Feel free to send in your own ideas with or without prompts as well! These are just some ideas for inspiration :)

You can request 1-3 Prompts at once; feel free to mix and match or add a plot-line to your request.

[harpersdragons]

Theft in the Family...By Jason Todd Chapter 3

This chapter is a bit shorter, Exams are stressing me out xD

I have Chapter 4 done, it'll be posted once I finish chapter 5

The last week had calmed down some for Jason. He was slowly gaining control of the other gangs in Crime Alley, so now his job is mainly enforcing his rules and continuing his climb up the metaphorical food chain.

Currently he was on a rooftop overlooking the usual corner the working girls frequent.

He feels his half cape/cloak thing (Jason still doesn’t know what to call it, ok) waving gently in the breeze. It felt nice to have a moment of downtime, even if it was in the middle of the day.

Just as he was getting used to the (very rare) almost peaceful atmosphere, a child’s yelling cuts through the air.

Jason rushes off in the general direction of the sound.

He arrives just in time to see a large man slamming a kid against the wall, one hand wrapped around the kid’s throat.

Jason growls, jumping into the alley. He rips the man away, pushing himself in between the kid and his aggressor. “Leave. Him. Alone.” He draws one of the swords on his back, leveling it at the man’s chest.

Instead of scrambling back, the man stares at the sword and chuckles, pushing it away and drawing a gun. “The kid’s comin’ with me.”

“Yeah, nope. Not happenin’, jackass.” Jason draws his own gun with his other hand, this time aimed at the guy’s head. “Don’t think I only brought a sword to a gunfight. Besides, I guarantee you, I’m faster.”

Jason spares a glance behind him, and his heart nearly stops as the kid sits against the alley wall with a dazed look.

Fuck

That’s Damian.

Alright, fuck mercy. This guy is dead.

He uses the flat edge of the sword to knock the man’s gun hand wide, closing the distance between them. He uses his body to pin the man to the wall, and sheathes both weapons.

With his hands free, he wraps one around the guy’s throat (we’re gonna call him Chad now), and the other wrenches the gun from Chad’s grasp. “See? I’m faster.” Jason almost chuckles, before his tone turns dark again. “Do you know who I am?”

Chad barely manages to nod, and gasps: “Phoenix.”

“Good. Do you know what my main rule is?” Jason doesn’t even give him a chance to answer this time. “Do /not/, under /any/ circumstance, mess with kids.”

The man looks truly scared for the first time in this interaction. “I—I’m sorry! I didn’t know he was yours! He’s a Bristol kid, look at ‘em!”

“/All/ kids are under my protection. But you won’t get to make the same mistake twice.” Jason draws his gun again, aiming not at his head, but his groin. A cruel smile splits his face, not like the man can see that though.

The man whimpers, and Jason glances back at Damian again. The kid is still dazed, but he was standing and watching the scene play out.

“Get outta here, kid, I’ll catch up and make sure ya get home safe in a sec.”

Damian seemed to struggle to understand the instruction, but when he did, he stood firm. “No.”

“Kid—”

“No.” Damian scowls at him. Jason rolls his eyes, but mentally shrugs. The kid was raised by Ra’s Al Ghul, he’s seen worse.

With that, he turns his attention back to the weeping man in front of him. He debates saying something else, but decides against it. No need to draw this out any longer.

He takes a step back, and fires. The man screams, collapsing to the ground in a crumpled heap.

Jason holsters the gun (he’ll finish the man off in a second) and steps over to Damian. Kneeling down, he reaches out a hand and runs it through Damian’s hair, searching for injuries. “Y’alright, Habibi?”

“I have had worse.”

“I know, kid, but my question stands.” His glove comes away bloody when he reaches the back of the kid’s head, and Damian flinches slightly. “Alrigh’, I’ll take you home and clean you up, but you’re telling Bruce. Where even is the Old Man anyway?”

“I presume he is back at the diner, where I left him.”

Jason rolls his eyes, picking Damian up and settling him on his hip. “‘Course ya ran away. Now I’m gonna have Bats after me.”

A bark sounding through the alley snaps Jason’s attention away from his brother, and he sees Bruce and Ace running into the alley.

“God dammit, speak of the devil.” Jason mutters, eyeing the duo warily.

“Give me my son.” Bruce speaks lowly, clearly eyeing the distance between them.

Jason scoffs, “You lost him. I found him.”

The man on the ground groans, and Jason is reminded of his unfinished business. Without taking his eyes off Bruce, he fires another bullet into Chad’s skull. Bruce flinches at the gunshot.

“Give him back, before I call the cops.”

Ace growls, stalking forward. Bruce drops the leash, and the dog lunges forward.

Jason turns, making sure his body is between the snapping teeth and his brother.

Just before biting, Ace stops, his nose twitching as he sniffs the air, and his tail waves in the air. The growls turn to whines as he noses at Jason's leg. Something in Jason melts a little at the sight of his childhood dog.

“Ace!” Bruce calls, but the dog ignores him in favor of Jason.

“I think you have broken the dog,” Damian comments, and Jason pets Ace before pulling out his grapple gun.

He fires the grapple, watching Bruce’s eyes widen as he feels the familiar tug of the line hooking. Bruce lunges for him just as the gun pulls him into the air. In the short trip in the air, Bruce has pulled out his phone and is frantically talking to whoever he called.

In the same moment, Damian wraps his arms around Jason’s neck, and Jason remembers that this would be his first experience with grappling. With flying.

Jason smiles at his brother when they land on the roof, before realizing he wouldn’t be able to see it.

Jason grapples back to his apartment without saying another word.

When they enter (through the window, of course, no doors allowed), Jason sets Damian down and starts taking his gear off.

The hood and cape are first to go, followed by his masks and gauntlets. When he turns back to Damian, the kid is pouting at him.

“The hell are you pouting for, I thought ya wanted to see me?” Jason grabs the med kit from under his sink and walks over to his brother.

“I thought you would come back with me.”

Jason sighs, “We discussed this, Habibi. I can’t go back. Besides, Bruce doesn’t even know it’s me who has you. There’s gonna be a fuckin’ manhunt now.”

“He took your book,” Damian’s pouty face somehow… gets more pouty..?

“The one I gave to you?” Jason had to suppress a chuckle, but goes about cleaning the cut on Damian’s head.

“Yes.”

“What’d ya do to get him to take that from ya? He never took my books.’

“I may…or may not…have attempted to stab Drake.”

Jason scowls at him, “What did we talk about, Damian?”

“You said not to kill or maim anyone! It was just supposed to be a light stabbing…” The kid is sulking now. It’s almost cute, if Jason weren’t a little pissed at him.

His phone ringing cuts off any reply he may have had. He fishes it out of his pocket, answering it and setting it to his ear before going back to cleaning the cut on Damian’s head. “‘Sup?”

There’s silence on the other end of the line, before a faint voice comes through. “...Master Jason?”

Jason almost drops the phone in shock, and it takes him a second to remember how to use his voice. When he does speak, he’s choked up. “Hey, Alfie.”

Alfred takes a shuddering inhale before continuing. “It is good to hear your voice again, my boy. Although I do have a rather urgent reason for calling. We seem to be missing the child you delivered to us three weeks ago.”

Jason raises an eyebrow at the kid in front of him, finally putting down the gauze and medical supplies. “Are you now?”

“Yes. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”

“Nope, not a clue. You should probably keep better track of your birds.”

Alfred sighed, seeming to realize the bluff. “Shall I inform Master Bruce that he is taken care of?”

Jason chuckles before answering. “Nah, let him panic. It’ll do him some good. Besides, finders keepers. Kid’s mine now.”

Jason can hear a hint of a smile when Alfred speaks next. “Hm. Well, try to have him back at the Manor for Sunday crepes. You are welcome to join as well.” It’s Thursday. That gives him four days with his baby brother.

And four days to make Bruce panic, which is always a plus.

He will have to move safehouses though, he wasn’t exactly watching out for cameras on his way here.

“Will do, Alfie. I’ll drop him off Sunday morning.”

They exchange goodbyes, then Jason drops the phone on the couch.

“Wanna explain why ya ran away?”

“I wanted to see you, Akhi. I had not heard from you since you dropped me off.”

Jason sighs, sitting down and pulling Damian closer to him. “You could have asked Alfred to contact me, kid. It’s not safe for you to run around Gotham on your own.”

“I can protect myself!”

“Like you did today?”

Damian scowls, “It is not my fault he caught me off guard.”

“Dames, no matter how highly trained you are, the people here will still win the fight when they are two to four times your size. You have to stay with an adult.”

Damian just huffs in response, and Jason gives the argument up. He’ll just have to keep a better eye out from now on.

[thecircularsystem]

Recovery and Syscourse Thoughts

I thought I would toss my hat into the ring briefly in the latest discussions about recovery from CDDs, since everyone and their uneducated brother have been spamming screenshots and sources left and right, and almost all of them have ignored the fact that the DSM and scientific (or otherwise) sources are not the people going through this disorder.

So let’s drop this take into the mix: there is no one set way to heal or recover, and everyone should work to find their best method of recovery and what works best for them.

I am a person working on recovery with DID. I phrase it that way specifically because I don’t want to stop having DID. I… actually really like having my system, and being multiple parts. My partner loves it too. They actually are overjoyed when I split — sad that I’m that stressed, of course, and so, so caring and gentle with me when I reach that point — but thrilled that they get to meet another part of me, a part so vivid and developed.

Isn’t it beautiful that I can see that love so brightly?

Anyways. Back on topic, I am recovering with DID. I am utilizing EMDR (though it’s been some time since we did a session) and I attend therapy weekly. I have grown far more integrated, and this past week, we’ve been so soupy that it’s hard to tell who’s fronting, and it hasn’t caused distress. It’s been nice to just be a collection of parts all at the same time, instead of split apart.

But wait. Isn’t that functional multiplicity? I mean, I just said I’m not distressed, and we’re all working together.

But wait. Isn’t that final fusion? All of us together, instead of split apart?

But wait.

How the fuck am I defining it?

Cause doesn’t that matter so much more??? There isn’t a set definition of what FM/FF are, guys. There isn’t this Ideal Recovery that so many people seem to post about. I’ll reach functional multiplicity when I say I do, and my FM will look different than others, and could look like FF too, because FF isn’t “okay now you’re a singlet.” If anything, the FF systems I’ve met have discussed how they feel MORE plural now.

FF/FM isn’t a dichotomy that can only exist separately, and they aren’t even the only ways to heal. For instance, am I not in recovery right now? Am I not actively healing? I might still be disordered, but isn’t it possible to be disordered and functional? Isn’t it possible to heal WITH DID? (The answer is yes; even FM/FF do not erase the fact that I have a rewired brain with new mental pathways. I could become nondisordered, that IS a thing, thought it took years to convince me it was. The fact is, it’s up to the individual.)

And my recovery is going to look entirely different than the recovery of my friends. For instance, I know many of my friends have reached final fusion, and one of them said they split frequently still. But for me, I split maybe once a year at the current moment, max three times a year. It's been a little messy, and confusing, but that seems to be the case. But if you're final fused, shouldn't you not be splitting???

NO YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT, FUCK THE RULES!

If that person says they are doing better and feeling fine, then that's what matters. And the fact is, regardless of what a DSM or source you provide says, that's what any therapist worth their salt is going to say as well. If you aren't distressed, then you're good.

The same thing does for anything system related.

Preference of how to refer to your alters/parts/headmates/people in your head/fuckers in your head/those assholes up there who bother you constantly? More power to you! You can call them whatever you want!

Littlecourse and how your littles engage in healing? Woohoo, do whatever makes you the most happy and does the least amount of harm -- or, yknow, harm yourself! That's part of learning too, and people trying to take away the dignity of risk from systems because "but-but think of the children" can go suck a dick. So long as the person is doing what they think they should be doing, why is it my problem?

The only time these things become my problem is when they impact me. And, remarkably, what someone else does with their system does not impact me.

I think so much of syscourse needs to learn to mind their own business when it comes to other people's recovery. What someone calls their parts or origins or recovery does not matter and does not impact me in the slightest. What someone else does on their own time is of no consequence to me. The only thing I see in syscourse that does actually impact me is misinformation about my disorder, which impacts me because it makes our parts who struggle with denial latch onto that...

WHICH IS A ME PROBLEM.

Sure, I correct the misinfo, because that helps me, but that's still a me problem, something I need to work on for me.

I used to be gung-ho about fighting against endogenic systems, and one of the reasons for that was because I had parts who clung to the idea that we might be endogenic. The existence of endogenic systems helping my parts deny that we had trauma does not suddenly mean endos shouldn't exist. It means I need to work on my trauma denial.

This post has been a HUGE ramble, and I'm sorry about that -- there's so many thoughts I Have about recent syscourse, and I usually can squeeze in about 30 minutes of free time to write.

I want to post more about this soon, but to summarize some ideas:

Let people recover however they please.

If someone is recovering in a way you don't like, then look away.

If someone is spreading misinformation, correct them, but like... buddy, do it gently, no need to get all butthurt, relaaaaax

If someone continues to spread misinformation after you've corrected them, more power to you, my guy, do what you gotta do to correct that shit for others if you want to do that

It is exactly Nobody's Job to do steps 3 or 4

And lastly; stop sucking [insert source you just googled]'s cock and talk to a system in real life for like. A half hour, at least. Just get to know how they view their system and what works/doesn't work for them. It might actually make you learn something.

[chaotic-orphan]

Oh hey , hope u are doing well , I was wondering if you'd continue the post where the hero has electrical powers and the villian has telepathy

Intoxicating fear (II)

A crude awakening

Part one // Masterpost

*~*~*~*~*

A snap of fingers in front of Kit’s face and his eyes snapped into focus, his body jolting forward slightly. Kit blinked, head pounding as he tried to take in his surroundings.

His head was fuzzy, memory hazy as he tried to remember how he got here. Wherever here was.

He was standing up, his arms above his head. When he tried to pull them down, he heard the snap of chains. Warning bells sounded clear in his mind as he tugged them down again, but they didn’t budge.

Kit groaned as he looked up to see his hands locked into metal cuffs, attached to a chain that went all the way to the ceiling.

“Good. Very good, Malyn. So responsive. So suggestible,” a silvery voice purred behind Kit.

Kit froze for a split second before his reflexes kicked in. He snapped his fingers on instinct reaching for the electricity in the air. Familiar blue lightning sparked to life and Kit screamed as his entire body jerked in the chains. His body ceased, winding tight as his own electricity was weaponised against him. Kit grit his teeth as his body was forced to endure. The chains holding him up rattling as Kit’s body fell like dead weight once the electricity ran its course through Kit’s body.

A couple aftershocks jerked Kit’s muscles in his shoulder, and Kit sucked in a second cry of pain at the strain on his shoulders.

A cool hand rested on the back of Kit’s neck. Kit froze again, his muscles in his legs riding out random spasms from the aftershock as Kit forced his legs to stand himself up straight. His feet slipped as he tried to get his balance, accompanied by a sloshing sound. Kit glanced down to see his feet in a basin of water. His shoes and socks taken off and his trousers rolled up to the knees.

“You’re not as bright as I heard you were, Malyn,” said that horrible voice behind him. Kit’s heart thundered against his chest, as the hand slinked around Kit’s neck to come and stand in front of him.

It was Omen.

It was Omen.

Kit knew it was Omen, obviously, he just didn’t really want to believe it.

That meant that Omen had actually taken Kit against his will. Taken him and made him forget the way to Omen’s fucking dungeon, and Other Hero was still at the fairground.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Hey, Malyn. Calm down,” Omen said, his voice so far away. Kit’s head dipped, gasping on air, trying to breathe, but his body wouldn’t let him. Instead, he was panting, chest rising too quickly and falling too shallow for him to take in any oxygen.

Fuck.

Not in front of Omen.

He was trapped with Omen.

Tears streamed down his face as the realisation settled loud into Kit’s mind.

No one knew where he was.

No one was coming to find him.

He was chained in front of Omen, his… the—

Two hands on his cheeks and Kit’s wide eyes went to Omen, recoiling as much as his chains would let them.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.

Kit gasped, looking into those dark eyes and wanted to cry as Omen spoke again: “Oi, Malyn. Relax.”

Kit’s body obeyed the command. His lungs forced to breathe, his muscles unwinding from tightness against his will, his mind still screaming at him as his body flooded with the ice coldness that followed Omen’s commands.

“There we go,” said Omen, grinning, as his thumbs rubbed the tears from Kit’s cheeks. When did he cry? “I knew you were scared of me little hero, but having a panic attack over me? I’m honoured.”

“G-go fuck yourself,” Kit ground out with a shiver. Omen tsked stepping back away from Kit, his grin spreading into a horrible smile on his pale red lips. Kit yanked at the chains holding him up and tried to steel his expression into a (hopefully) threatening one.

Omen hummed, tilting his head as he slipped his hands into tailored trouser pockets.

“Hmm, I think you should be nicer to me, Malyn,” Ambrose said, smile and happy tone contrasting his words: “If you piss me off I might just forget to come down here and give you food and water, let you use the bathroom. Keep disrespecting me and I’ll leave you to die in a pool of your own faeces. Understand?”

Kit didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to agree. He didn’t want to do anything other than not be here. Not be standing in front of Omen, the man who ruined his life. Fucking Omen of all people! Forcing his body into a synthetic calm.

Kit licked his lips, asking: “What do you want with me?” He cursed his voice for coming out quiet. Quieter than he’d like to have it be in front of this monster.

Omen’s smile seemed to grow if that was even possible.

“I want to know why you fear me so much,” Omen said, amusement lacing his curiosity. He didn’t get closer, he gave Kit space, but his eyes. His stare. It felt so invasive.

Too invasive.

“You can just look, can’t you?” Kit snapped, pulling at his chains. Omen’s eyes flashed at the emotion, flicking lazily up at the chains then back at Kit.

“You know, Malyn. Taking you was a spur of the moment thing, so I had to prepare all this for you,” Ambrose said, gesturing to the chains and the water. “To keep you. To hold you. I know Superhero, know how hard he tried to keep you secret from me.”

Omen stepped forward and Kit flinched. Then cursed himself for it as Omen let out a dark chuckle.

“I don’t think I’ll get used to that. That raw, primal fear— like I’m the most repulsive person to ever live.”

“You’re a villain,” is all Kit said in reply, cursing the croak in his voice.

Omen cocked an eyebrow. “You flinch at every villain? Then you don’t have the stomach for the job, hero. Sorry to be the one to tell you.”

Kit’s hands balled into fists above his head as Ambrose took another step closer. Kit forced himself to stay still.

“What’s with this stupid game of cat and mouse, huh?!” Kit demanded, leaning forward slightly. If Omen wanted to close the gap to intimidate Kit, why shouldn’t Kit do the same? “You can read minds. Just take all the information you want and leave me alone!”

Omen grinned. His eyes drilling into Kit’s. Kit suddenly became very aware of his body, his heart drumming against his ears as Ambrose said nothing. He just stared.

“Here’s the thing, Malyn. I know you’re new on the hero/villain scene so I’m willing to go easy on you,” said Omen casually. He walked around Kit, past Kit’s line of sight. Kit tried to turn to follow him with his eyes, but his body wouldn’t move. He was forced to stare ahead as Omen continued.

“I’ll tell you why I won’t take your source of fear from your beautiful, terrified mind. It’s because—”A hand went to the back of Kit’s neck, fingers lacing through his hair and yanking his head back. Kit cried out as he found Omen’s cold eyes staring down at him. “—you protest too much. Clearly, that’s part of why I’m so terrifying to you, isn’t it? You want it to be easy like it was with Mentor. You want me to twist your mind until you can barely see straight.”

Kit tried to yank his head free, but Omen wrenched him further down and Kit hissed through gritted teeth. His shoulders screaming at him to stop struggling.

“I’m not going to do that, Malyn. You’re going to tell me why you’re afraid, and I’m going to be there. Watching every micro expression on your face as you do. Maybe there’ll even be some more of your delicious tears…maybe not.”

Omen wrapped a hand around Kit’s throat, grinning as he felt Kit swallow under his palm. He tightened his grip, and that’s when Kit’s fear took over. Blinding and incapacitating as Omen cut off his air.

He couldn’t breathe.

Omen was above them drinking in every pathetic struggle. Kit’s arms pulling at the chains, his feet slipping in the water below, every effort in his body to try and get a sliver of air into his lungs.

“Listen to those sounds you make, Malyn,” Omen said, his silvery voice the only solid thing Kit had as he desperately thrashed in Omen’s grip.

Omen watched, basked, waited until he saw the electric blue flash through Kit’s eyes. He waited a beat longer before seeing Kit’s resolve settle.

Omen let go at the last second.

The last second that Kit’s power took over in his panic and his body erupted in crackles of lightning that coursed through Kit’s veins and he screamed.

Every fibre of his being lit on fire as his electricity burned through his nerves, tearing them to shreds and leaving only pain in its wake. His jaw was clenched so hard he thought his teeth would break from the force; his neck stretched at an awkward angle as he twitched unable to correct it. Black encroaching on his vision as his body ceased against his own ability.

A normal person in Kit’s circumstance would be dead by now. In a basin of water, his wrists trapped in metal it turned his body into a perfect conductor. Omen may as well have put Kit in an electric chair.

Kit should be dead, but his ability, stemmed from a sensitivity to electric currents rippling through the air, also gave him a certain robustness to electricity. He thought meant he could withstand electric currents passing through his body easy.

That was until now.

Until Omen used Other Hero against him.

Until he nearly burnt himself unconscious not a few minutes ago.

He should be dead.

Except he just hung limp in his chains. His feet had slipped and so his toes were the only part of him on the floor; his were knees bent from exhaustion. All his body weight rested heavily on his toes and wrists. He didn’t have the strength to pull himself up.

Omen walked around Kit at some point during his second taste of his own power and dipped his head, so he was eye level with Kit.

Kit didn’t even have the energy to move his head as Omen took his chin in his cold grip, tilting Kit’s head to meet Omen’s black eyes.

“See? All this effort to try and escape me out of your delicious fear. Why in the world would I just take what I want when you’ll destroy yourself not to give it to me?”

Kit was happy that the darkness around his edges flooded his vision, and he was dragged blissfully into unconsciousness.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

[schrijverr]

The Hearts of Gotham 4

Chapter 4 out of 7

Bruce makes the Justice League believe he has two hearts and is a manifestation of Gotham’s night to throw them off his secret identity, not trusting them. When the sound system breaks, he doesn’t come clean, but lies instead that he split into two to make Robin. From there it spirals as all the Robins make the lies grow and twist it in their own ways, until the truth comes out.

This fic is based on this post and inspired by Bouncing Baby Bat, or so the Justice League is led to believe... by EmpressGeek.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: Tim's self esteem issues

~~~~

Chapter 4: How Tim Tied It All Together

When Tim becomes Robin, Batman is no longer who he used to be. He is still paranoid of course, but he also grief stricken, angry, yet withdrawn. A shell of the Batman he once was.

He doesn’t want to introduce Tim to the Justice League at first. Wants to just tear the whole thing down and yell that he doesn’t want to do this anymore. That he just lost his son. That he’s had enough. That it’s not funny anymore. That it was never funny to start with.

However, whenever he tries to say something. He can’t. The words get stuck in his throat and all he can picture is Jason’s face as he whispered: ‘Are we- Are we pranking the Justice League?’ And he just can’t.

Bruce knows he has to introduce Tim to them, so that they know who they’re calling should something happen to him out there. But he still drags his feet about how he wants to do this.

A part of him wants to say fuck it and just tell them that there’s a new kid and that he’s been lying, too tired to care. But another part of him knows that then there will be questions, about the other Robins, if they were just kids too. And he’ll have to sit there and explain to Clark and Diana that he let his kid get killed. That he wasn’t on time to save him.

So, he shuts that first part of himself up and briefs Tim on what the story is and why he is meeting the League and when.

When Tim hears, he know this is important. The Robins before him have met the League and it is part of a bigger cover towards them.

Tim’s young mind whirls quickly, finding it logical that Batman has this added layer between him and the League. They operate differently and he knows how dangerous the League can be, the contingencies that Batman has made should it be necessary. Having a small human link, is a weakness to be exploited, so shrouding it in myth, makes it harder to do that.

It’s smart and he won’t let Batman down.

He knows Jason’s death is still a very sore wound, that is not likely to heal soon – it’s the whole reason he’s here – and that there is a wedge now between Batman and Dick. So, he doesn’t ask for advice from either of them and looks to the footage of the meetings with the old Robins and the Justice League in his own time, studying their interactions to prepare himself.

Thus, there is a drag to his feet as he quietly follows Batman into the Watchtower for the first time, the shoes he’s wearing still feeling too big to ever fill.

They enter a big room with a table, around which all the Justice League members are sitting. A few start to greet Batman, but they quickly also start to greet him. Seeing a new Robin is no longer a novelty to them and they are ready to welcome this newcomer.

“Hello, you must be the new Robin,” Superman floats over to shake his hand. “I’m Superman, nice to meet you.”

“I am. It’s nice to meet you too,” Tim says, trying to shake Superman’s hand the way Dick did.

Diana is also there, shaking his hand as they exchange introductions. She comments: “If I may ask, your predecessor was Robin shorter than the one before him. What city called for a hero? I have not heard of a new name popping up recently.”

Batman’s jaw tenses as most look to him for answers now, having notices his change in demeanor when the second Robin was mentioned.

Tim knows from his observations of the tapes that it is Robin, who gives the answers, while Batman stands quietly. So, he softly speaks up: “The second Robin was taken by the wrong parts of Gotham.”

The heroes that stand around them pause, some turning pale. Diana gasps: “No. He- He can’t die, can he?”

“He can be lost,” Tim answers, watching how Batman’s hands clench, hoping he won’t be too mad for all he’s about to say. “Not all his pieces returned home. The city gives us shape and life, but we can also be taken by it.”

As he talks, he calls back on as much as what Jason said, since he is the one that solidified the lore of the Robins. He created the means to be interchanged. And Tim is going to do his favorite hero proud.

“When he became Robin, the moon was waxing. Now the moon is waning,” Tim says. “Gotham is getting dark now. The light is less big. I’m less big.”

He is actually pretty close to Jason’s age when he started, but he knows that he’s smaller than average. If he calculated right, he can pass for at least two years younger. It fits with the story he’s creating for his Robin, a lesser version of those before him. The Robin to a grimmer Batman and a less bright Gotham.

Everyone is now looking worried and that’s good. Tim wants the League to be a little bit worried, so that they’ll keep a closer eye on Batman. He needs everyone to keep him on the rails while he processes and this way Tim is subtly enlisting help.

However, he also memorized what Jason said about Batman changing and how that means something has happened. He doesn’t need them to worry so much that they’ll come into Gotham unannounced.

So, he gives them a smile, hoping it will be close to what the other Robins did. Unintentionally, it’s as creepy as Dick’s smile had been.

“Don’t worry,” he says, maybe a bit on the nose, but, oh well, he doesn’t do improv theater. “The night is still the same, the light is just less, so there is more darkness to make up Batman. He’s working on it. We both are. We’ll get used to our way of being Batman and Robin as we are now.”

That is apparently Batman’s limit.

A hand comes down on Tim’s shoulder, it’s heavy, but Tim doesn’t react. He is used to Batman’s more brisk forms of connection, how he’s grown more distant than how he was with Jason. Tim gets it, he’s not his son, just a placeholder.

“Let’s go to the Cave, Robin,” Batman says and he doesn’t crack on the name. Progress. “They’ve met you now.”

“Oh, don’t go yet, Batman,” Flash tries to go for a little more lighthearted as he attempts to get Batman to stay. They likely all noticed how he’s been around less.

Diana nods, saying gently: “Yes, there is no need to hurry home.”

Batman looks like he might be convinced, but then J’onn adds: “We can help you look out for Robin,” and that is the wrong thing to say, Tim knows it as he hears it.

Had Batman gotten help from the Justice League, Jason could have lived. Had Batman thought to call out, Tim might not be standing here.

“No, Gotham needs us,” he tells them instead and a part of Tim hopes that there is an Arkham outbreak so that Batman can punch out a little more of his grief and their cover will be strengthened more.

It’s the only time, Tim meets the Justice League as Robin. He never trains with them, never convinces Batman to take him with him to the Watchtower again. He meets them, because it is necessary and never again until he’s Red Robin.

As Red Robin, Tim truly grows into the lore that they’re creating, managing to find ways to use it to his advantage.

By then the Robin mantle has ping ponged around and Tim has mourned how he’s been forced to give up being Robin. It wasn’t easy, but it’s what has to be done and he’s always done it. Besides, he quite likes his mantle as Red Robin now.

And he doesn’t mind tricking his teammates either. Out of all of them, he’s the one that has the worst of B’s paranoia, so having this makes him feel more in control about what they do and don’t know about him. It’s a safety measure.

He is also gleeful to discover that he can use it to get his way and Dick can’t get on his case about it, because then he’ll give the whole thing away.

“Don’t worry,” he tells them when they look at him with concern. “My body doesn’t react the same as yours to caffeine, this is totally safe.”

“It’ll be safer for me to go alone,” he lies another time. “As a manifestation, it’s less likely that this demon thing will kill me. It’ll be worse if you’re there.” Like he doesn’t just think they’re all shit negotiators and he’s better off without them in the background to ruin things.

Little things that make leading his team easier for him. Making so he doesn’t have to explain himself or apologize for his bad habits. It’s quite a nice change of pace and he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

As a little bit of pettiness to the demon spawn that has taken his spot after Steph, he tells those that ask that one Robin wasn’t enough anymore for the beast that is Gotham. In a dire hour of need, he had handed over in some Robin parts, but not all, he had evolved and a new one had grown. The two of them having to run around to balance Gotham again.

It can’t be further from the truth, they don’t work together well and while Gotham is still a dark entity, two Robins can nearly be considered overkill. Especially when you know of all the other heroes that run around, still in the shadows.

However, he doesn’t care about the truth much. Let everyone think that he is the evolved Robin, that he grew, that he still matters to Gotham. Let them think that Damian is the Robin, who couldn’t do it by himself, who needed an extra hand.

Tim is used to twisting the narrative until he makes sense, until no one wonders how he is the one who made it here. He has always had big shoes to fill, let someone else carry that burden for a change.

~~

A/N:

Okay, promise only happy vibes again after this one, but Tim is just a bit of a sad character, especially when he just became Robin and when he had to hand over the mantle again (though the latter has been all Robins), so it was a little difficult to make it happy. I tried, didn’t work out.

[oohnotvery]

Edges of the Night (Chapter 17)

I swear this story—if I’m not sick every time I promise a chapter update, it’s something else. This time, my daughter went to the ER for a head injury. She’s totally okay but it was awful.

So . . . some of you astutely noticed that I told AO3 this story would end at 18 chapters.

That was true until I spent a day in the ER, and now I know there’s no way I can get Chapter 17 out in its full form tonight—but I really wanted to give you all something to read today. So, I’m cutting Chapter 17 into two pieces, which means there will be 19 total chapters of this great beast.

All this to say, we’re reaching the end of a very long, very convoluted road. I want to really thank everyone for following along, even though I went through multiple spells of not writing/posting.

Also, we’ve heard a lot from Scully these past 16 chapters . . . so I thought you all might be interested in seeing what Mulder’s up to :) :) :)

Every time his axe splits open a new log, Mulder cringes at the loud whack that reverberates through the forest. He’s officially been in hiding for eight days now here in this lakeside cabin, and he hasn’t quite gotten over the feeling that someone is watching him, waiting to swoop in and carry him off to a gruesome death.

In the growing twilight, he wipes at his brow and stares at the lake spread out before him. It’s frosty and bitterly cold and the shoreline is studded with heavy chunks of ice. Over the past week, he’s gotten decently good at making fires to keep himself warm in the unheated log cabin, and even though those fires send up smoke signals through the chimney, he’s pretty confident no one has been following him. Plus, it’s far too cold to go to bed without a fire. Scully would be so proud.

Scully.

A lancing pain sings through his chest.

He still has to shut his eyes every time he thinks about that last day in the house. He hadn’t actually expected Scully to fall asleep with him, but he couldn’t have planned it better if he tried. Neither of them would have lasted through a tearful goodbye. More likely, she would have run after him, and the Gunmen, Skinner, and Alan would have had to hold her back. It would have been violent and painful. It was nice, instead, to simply listen to her deep, peaceful breathing for several long minutes, to savor the feeling of her warm body pressed to his, to inhale her scent, to trace the line of her nose with his eyes, to commit it all to memory. And then, to softly, softly press his lips to her temple before quietly, gently extracting himself from their tangled limbs. He allowed himself only one parting glimpse at her, and then he left.  

When the memory of that moment begins to overtake him, he turns his thoughts to all the ways Scully probably wants to kill him now. If he knows anything about Scully, it’s that she was raging mad when she woke up and found him gone. Hell, she probably took it out on the Gunmen and Skinner. That would’ve been fun to see. He huffs a laugh, setting down his axe. If she ever did find him somehow, she’d probably shoot him in the shoulder again just for the hell of it.

After not saying goodbye, Mulder then spent a day and a half chugging up the coast in a discrete little Taurus the Gunmen provided. Once he was deep into northern Maine, he spent a few long hours anxiously searching for the house Frohike had assured him existed near this particular lake. Unmarked roads, misleading snow-packed paths, crumbling one-lane bridges, and steep, muddy inclines made the house nearly impossible to locate, and only by pure luck did he finally spy it just as the sun began to set. It was a good thing, he had to admit, that this cabin was so difficult to find. Out here in the blasted middle of nowhere, with thick pine forests and snow drifts six feet high and not a single other soul for miles and miles and miles, he could be undiscoverable forever.

But as safe and remote as it is, it’s not in this lakeside cabin that he plans to spend the rest of his days. No, he has to get out of the States and into friendlier fields. Every time he thinks about the next phase of his escape plan, a nervous pit settles in his stomach. Tomorrow morning, he will depart this cabin forever and drive into Canada, crossing the border with documents that Frohike himself created. Any time he starts to get anxious, it’s this part of the plan that gives him the confidence he needs to go forward. Frohike wouldn’t fail him.  

So tomorrow when the sun rises, he will leave, bidding a final farewell to all the ties that bind him to his former life. Once inside the borders of Canada, he’ll be totally on his own. No one will know where he goes next, not even Frohike. It’s for his own safety, and theirs, he reminds himself. But still . . . from tomorrow on, he will be untraceable. Even if someone wanted to find him, they wouldn’t be able to.

His heart clenches painfully at the thought of taking that final, treacherous step into total isolation. Up until this point in his journey, he has still been tethered—somewhat tenuously, through Frohike—to his old life, his old existence. But tomorrow, he’ll be lost forever. Tomorrow marks the point of no return.

He shoves away the thought as brutally as he can, forcing himself to recite the mantra that has helped him get out of bed every morning since he got here. She’s safe, she’s happy, she’s safe, she’s happy.

But, god, at what cost?

He tries not to curse himself for the things he failed to do with Scully. For pushing her away when she reached for him on the bed. For telling her no, no, they can’t take that final step together, they shouldn’t be intimate with each other . . . why the hell did he do that again? He swears out loud, angered by the memory. She was desperate for him, begging with him, her pleas like something out of his most erotic fantasies. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. And he should have just had her, just that one time. Just for the memories, if nothing more. He shouldn’t have ever left her with any doubt about the way he loved her.

A bird screeches high in the trees and he startles. His eyes search the treetops before settling on a pair of magpies pestering a giant hawk. With cold, aching hands, he gathers a bundle of split logs in his arms and trudges up to the house, locking the door behind him. Because old habits die hard, he’s been sleeping on the living room couch right beside the main fireplace, and it’s here that he starts building his fire. In an hour, he’ll make yet another PB&J and try to read a book he found in the home’s voluminous bookshelves. His go-bag is stored right beside the door, and his weapon rests under a pillow on the couch. He sincerely hopes that he never has to use it again.

Many hours later, Mulder wakes to a frigid house. Cursing under his breath, he stands creakily and adds a few logs to the dying fire, tending to it as carefully as he would an infant. Darkly, he wonders what would even happen if he froze to death in this cabin. Who would find his body? And how long would it take for him to be discovered here? In what stage of decomposition would they find him? Would they ship him off to Scully for an autopsy? Would there even be a funeral?

He snorts and a flame licks up through the logs, sending a burst of heat into the room. He won’t be dying tonight. He glances at his watch in the firelight and notes wryly that it is nearing three a.m. The witching hour. Chills that have nothing to do with the cold run up his spine and he settles back onto the sofa, suddenly wide awake.

It is a near-constant battle not to think about her. He imagines that someday, far in the distant future, he will no longer think of her every minute of every hour. That maybe someday, he won’t wake up to a strange mixture of relief and regret: relief that she is safe; regret that he didn’t have enough of her.

A noise outside catches his attention and every muscle in his body freezes. The fire sparks and crackles and he strains his ears, listening intently. Prey that he is, he has become carefully attuned to every type of sight and sound and smell out here in the woods. Most noises can be attributed to nature—animals scrounging nearby, branches breaking off of trees, melting ice cracking on the lake.

But this particular sound has a different sense about it. It’s the creeping, hulking sound of something heavy moving across snow.

A car. And it’s driving very slowly, very quietly up the ridge to the house.

His brain slips instantly into FBI mode. He snatches up his gun, shucks on his jacket, and slips into his boots. Throwing the go-bag over his shoulder, he crouches low beneath the front room window, adrenaline pumping so hard through his veins he feels like he could crush steel between his hands.

How did they find him here? And how will he escape? Should he run for the car? It’s parked out front, which means any escape would necessarily involve passing by the car coming up the hill—

With unblinking eyes, he peers into the blackness outside until it finally comes into view, an unfamiliar black sedan, headlights killed, tires inching meticulously along the ground, as if the driver doesn’t want to make a sound. When the car comes to a stop at the front of the house, Mulder raises his gun, surprised to find his hand shaking.

How did it come to this already? Should he run into the woods? Or stand his ground and fight?

For a long minute, nothing happens, and he wonders if he should preemptively shoot at the driver’s side window. But that would be a mistake. He would give away his position. What he’s going to do is wait for the person—or people—to exit the vehicle, and then he’ll fire—

The car door swings open smoothly, soundlessly. A person steps out, their aspect unrecognizable in the dark. They shut the car door quietly and begin to walk towards the house, scanning their surroundings furtively. He can’t make out facial features because of a dark mask pulled up over the person’s nose and mouth and a hood cinched tight over their head. Loose clothing hangs off their body and a gun dangles from their right hand.

The person is close now, just five feet away. Now four feet, now they’re climbing the stairs. Mulder swallows thickly. When that door opens, he’ll have one chance to shoot. And if there are others waiting in the car . . . he’ll have to run. His entire body tenses. He’s a coiled snake, a viper waiting to inject the venom—

There’s a quiet knock at the door.

It surprises him so much that his brain sputters.

What the hell kind of assailant announces their arrival with a pleasant knock?

Stealthily, he rises and makes his way to the door. He knows this could very well be a trap. There could be machine guns on the other side of that door, ready to blast him to bits; or a host of feds could crawl out of the sedan and swoop in the minute that door opens—

The door handle jiggles and he startles. Jesus Christ, they’re trying to get in now. He raises his weapon again. His heart is beating hummingbird-fast.

Another knock, this time louder, and another try at the door handle.

And then—

“Mulder? It’s me.”

[jumpywhumpywriter]

I don’t know how to start messages at all, so I’ll just get to the point: you’re writing is hecking amazing. I literally only just discovered your blog and I’m already hooked and invested in like 5 different stories. As people say, I want to consume your writing the way a wolf tears apart the innards of its prey (hope that’s not too weird of a compliment; I mean that the writing is very good. I’m not good at expressing extreme amazement and stuff through writing at all and general social awkwardness so sorry if I’m coming off as weird, I don’t mean to).

I have more things to say/ask (like how you write so fast cause the heck? That’s a compliment by the way), but I don’t want to be rude or annoying. Anyways, I hope you’re having a good day/night and are staying hydrated and enjoying some cookies (or whatever your favorite food is) while you do writing stuff (or school or whatever. Idk anything about your life. I’ll stop talking now before I go on another tangent like right now) :)

This is literally one of the sweetest compliments I've EVER gotten! I love the analogy with the wolf tearing out the insides of its prey, that gave me a good laugh and made me smile LOL. It's not weird at all! (At least, not in MY world, because 'weird' is my version of 'normal'. You can't out-weird me haha) and I'm super socially awkward too so I totally understand how you feel!

I absolutely adore the fact that you took the time to send this to me! It really helps motivate me to keep writing! I honestly wouldn't post here very often without comments like yours to keep me going.

On to answering your questions now. This is going to be a long one.

Firstly, I have a terrible relationship with sleep. Sleep hates me. So my solution? Stay up to 3am writing giant novels! Some nights the inspiration hits out of nowhere, and I'll write like a crazy person on their 10th cup of coffee, doing five whole pages in Google Docs. Like I don't know what sleep is anymore LOL. Then I break the large chunk of writing I did up into several smaller sections I can put into separate posts on this app that I can post slowly over time to keep people entertained for a longer time instead of posting everything all at once and running out of content.

For example, I might literally have 13 posts in my drafts section ALL from a single batch of writing I did all at once the night before that took me 5 whole hours to write and edit.

In all honestly I am NOT a fast writer at all. I just happen to be able to write giant sections at a time and then split them up so I can post frequently which gives the ILLUSION that I am fast writer because of how often I post content. But in reality it's just been prepared in advance on my sleepless nights where I power through and complete whole pages at a time. (I'm actually a slower snail when it comes to writing because I try to go for quality not quantity -- I take my time to make stories interesting vs just writing as long as I can)

It's convenient too because some days I don't have the inspiration at all/experience writer's block so I can just post content I made over the previous few nights instead to make up for not writing anything new that day.

I also have ADHD which makes it so I can hyperfocus on writing for several hours at a time without a break. Sometimes I'll get really deep into a story where I just can't put down my phone and stop writing to go to sleep.

Thanks again for your WONDERFUL ask! It made my whole day (or night in this case, ironically because that's what it is right now for me as I'm answering this LOL -- proving my point about no sleep 😅😅)

Keep being awesome my new fan!! 🥰 And hope you enjoy more of my stories!

[talk-danmei-to-me]

hiii I’m prompting for danmei fanfic nightclub:) could I please request some Ranwan angst?♡ could be set in canonverse or an au!

Fashionably late because it came through when I was sleeping and it took me forever and a day to decide what flavour of angst I wanted.

Anyways, I went with my royalty au and I hope that's not considered cheating 🤞

***

Mo Ran knelt on the cold tile floor and looked up at the throne - his throne, which Xue Zhengyong merely kept warm for him.

His features distorted with concern,

'Whyever would you do something so foolish? Do we not treat you well?'

Mo Ran bit his lip to keep his silence. Fragments of the night before flashed through his memory, the sweetness of Chu Wanning's tongue as he tasted him for the first time, the heat emanating from his finger tips as he explored the vast expanse of his muscular back.

Treason.

Mo Ran had chased after Chu Wanning like a lost puppy, mithering him until he'd caved and allowed Mo Ran to do unspeakable things to him in the darkest corners of a tavern. The thought that Chu Wanning was about to lose his head because Mo Ran couldn't keep his hands to himself refused to leave him. Left him frightened and immobile.

'Whilst a commoner harming the king is treason, our laws state that the king can be held accountable through his actions in the Hall of Divine Punishments,' Xue Zhengyong said.

Familiar footsteps echoed across the tile floor and Mo Ran looked up to witness Chu Wanning's robes sweeping past. His heart filled with relief. His knight wasn't in trouble. His head would remain firmly attached to that fine neck of his, the neck that had begged Mo Ran to mark it the night before.

'As your sworn knight, Ser Chu has the right to exact punishment.' Xue Zhengyong's voice brought Mo Ran back to himself, stopped his mind from wandering to more pleasant places and he schooled his face into a neutral expression.

He trusted Chu Wanning wouldn't do anything to harm him.

'Mo Weiyu, your actions have brought the Crown into disrepute. For that, you must pay the consequences. You will present yourself to the Hall of Divine Punishments to be struck 12 times with the discipline whip. Once for each half hour you ran riot in the city. Will you walk? Or be dragged?' Chu Wanning's tone was cold, harsh and unforgiving. As though nothing of note existed between them but derision for not following the rules.

It made Mo Ran's blood turn cold.

'Walk.' Mo Ran pushed himself up to his feet, 'May I ask who exposed my misdeeds?'

'You may not,' Xue Zhengyong replied.

With each step Mo Ran took, he tried to work out who had reported him to Xue Zhengyong. He stole surreptitious glances at Chu Wanning, willing him to look back at him, just once. Chu Wanning fixed his gaze on some unknown spot in the distance, posture unfeasibly straight as he took even steps towards the hall. An unsettling feeling began to grow within Mo Ran, that the one who denounced him, was the man who was with him. Who else knew that he'd gone out, but would lie and say Chu Wanning remained at his post? When Xue Zhengyong said his punishment was up to Chu Wanning, Mo Ran had been under the delusion that he'd be lenient. Kneeling on the ground before him in the centre of the Hall of Divine Punishments, that no longer seemed an option.

No longer did the slight intoxication of lust, or the warmth of a newly formed friendship register in Chu Wanning's phoenix eyes. Instead, he looked upon Mo Ran as pondscum. He raised the discipline whip above his head and struck Mo Ran with all the force he could muster. Mo Ran's body jolted forward in response and a pathetic cry of agony tore from his throat as the skin on his back split open. He hated himself for allowing such a sign of weakness to show. As Chu Wanning drew the whip up again for the next strike, Mo Ran steeled himself and clasped his hands over his mouth to stifle any sounds that dared escape him. He refused to give Chu Wanning the satisfaction. The strikes came, again and again, until Mo Ran's undershirt was soaked through with blood.

After the final strike, Chu Wanning tossed the whip to one side, 'Your punishment has been served and you are free to go.'

At this statement of release, Mo Ran collapsed. When he woke he was lying on his stomach upon his bed. The door opened.

'Fuck off!' Mo Ran hid his face in the crook of his elbow, he couldn't stand the sight of Chu Wanning's face right now.

'I've brought you some food,' Shi Mei said, his footsteps coming closer.

Mo Ran continued to hide his face, 'I'm not hungry.'

'You need to eat. It'll help with the healing.'

Even the slightest shift sent waves of pain coursing throughout Mo Ran's body, made him feel as though his skin was tearing all over again. His eyes burned, he squeezed them shut to keep his tears from falling, but a single one escaped staining the silk pillow beneath his head.

'I want to go home.'

[adiluv-moved]

♡ JOHN DOE + PROMPTS 12 / 32. ˚⊹꒷

﹕₊˚ʚ🍫ɞ・[word count] total ─ 1632; prompt 12 ─ 972; prompt 32 ─ 660.

﹕₊˚ʚ🖤ɞ・[warnings] yandere character [technically, no yandere behavior demonstrated], not edited/proofread.

﹕₊˚ʚ🍷ɞ・[adi moment] second part of the event! these prompts were requested by @/arthurswine, and were the ones that i accidentally got all mixed up. i can’t remember if the valley has an airport or not [i tried to look for info but just didn’t find it], and i just assumed it did - please only quote me on that if i’m right - but i hope you enjoy! ꒰ㅅ´ ˘ `꒱

this is a part of my 200 follower / valentine's day event! you can view the event post here!

♡ prompt 12 / long distance. ˚⊹꒷

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Your day is relatively average when your cell phone starts to ring. It’s completely unexpected, too, with you lounging at the gas station’s counter (another slow day, it seems) when your ringtone breaks through the dull humming of the refrigerators. You're shocked to find that the contact displayed on the screen doesn’t belong to Doe, but is instead one for a friend that you were close with outside of the Valley. There’s a soft smile on your face as you tap the accept button and raise the device to your air, but the subtly sweet mood is broken when you hear their panicked voice.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・It’s somewhat difficult to understand what they’re saying, considering how fast their talking and the deeply worried tone in their voice, though you’re able to understand enough for you to decide that you’ll have to temporarily leave the Valley. So, that night, you find yourself sitting cross-legged on the living room floor with your dusty suitcase as you pack in any essential belongings, with Doe watching over the scene with a look of confusion plastered onto his face. Doe would try his best to stay calm while you explain the situation, with his worries being (mostly) dissipated when you emphasize that you’ll only be out of the Valley for a week or two - max. Even if he’s still a bit sad when he realizes that you’ll be gone for Valentine’s Day, he’ll support you wholeheartedly and even try to help you pack.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Sure, it sucks that the plans you two had made are essentially canceled, but there was plenty of time to do something together once you get back. He won’t try and force you to stay, nor would he want you to stay out of your own will (he understands that you have a life outside of him), though you can most certainly expect a lot of clinginess and melting at the airport. He might even try to sneak past security and follow you to the plane so he can have just a bit of extra time with you before you’re gone, though all of his attempts would be much too obvious to succeed. Instead, he just ends up desperately leaning over the barriers and waving like he’d never see you again - a sight that brings red to your cheeks and a slight chuckle to emerge from your throat.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Luckily, the flight itself ends up being mostly uneventful, with the plane only having a small turbulence on the way to your old home. You end up passing out for most of the trip, and you’re greeted by loads upon loads of text messages from Doe when you finally disembark and check your phone. It doesn’t help that his texting style is very broken up and erratic, either, with each sentence being split into at least two or three separate texts. Your friend, who was waiting for you at the airport, is incredibly concerned to see them, and you end up explaining all of the things that happened within the Valley. They start staring at you like you’re crazy before you even finish. A quick facetime with Doe does end up confirming everything, though, and you take the opportunity to introduce him to your friend. It takes some time for them to warm up to each other, but they’re at least acquaintances by the time you hang up.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Oh, and all of those text messages from Doe? They aren’t a one time thing. He’ll text and call you as though it’s his last day on Earth, as if it’s the only chance that he’ll ever have to talk to you for the rest of his days. While it’s incredibly endearing at first, considering the genuine happiness that’s apparent in his tone when you answer his phone calls or respond to his texts, it does start to become a bit too overbearing - more so with the differences in time and the fact that Doe doesn’t have human needs in the same way that you do. You end up having to explain the concepts of different time zones to him, as well as the fact that it’s too overwhelming to be texted every second of the day, both of which being concepts that take some time for him to grasp. Once he understands, however, he’ll do his best to lay off of you a bit, something that you appreciate. He’ll also do his best to take care of the apartment while you're gone (which he does surprisingly well at, considering his messier disposition), and you show him some outside movies and scenery.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・You do something similar of Valentine’s Day itself, taking him all around your old home and showing him all of the different places that you had used to visit. You show him your favorite café, your favorite park, even the old place that you had used to live, all while telling him about the differences between life in and outside of the Valley. His eyes are practically glued to the screen as you walk around, with him musing about how ‘strange’ your world was as he looks on at the different scenes. The decorations sitting in all of the storefronts can’t help but catch his interest, either, and you pick him out a few things to bring home as gifts. Doe also gets you some things for the holiday, all of which ranging from somewhat normal to things that look… Well, bizarre would be an understatement. (His grip on the phone is incredibly shaky due to how excited he is, so it might just be that.) You both end the day by watching some movies and shows until you pass out, and Doe is quick to join once he notices your soft breathing. Maybe not the Valentine’s Day that you were expecting, but it wasn’t all that bad.

♡ prompt 32 / dancing. ˚⊹꒷

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Even though it would be absolutely hilarious for Doe to somehow magically be a good (or, let’s be honest - even decent) dancer, there is no way you could ever even convince me to consider the idea of him not having two left feet. (That statement is metaphorical, but there’s definitely a chance that one of his previous false bodies did actually have two left feet.) Even so, I do also believe that Doe would be incredibly interested in the idea of dancing with you. I mean, it’s romantic, it’s cliché, he’s probably seen it tons of times in rom-coms - of course he’d be interested in doing it with you! And on Valentine’s Day, no less? It would be a dream come true for him!

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・That’s exactly the reason that he practically jumps into your arms the moment that the suggestion leaves your mouth, staring at you with a lovestruck expression and pupils so wide that you can’t even see his trademark yellow sclera. Considering all of the long and honestly underpaid shifts that you’re working at the gas station, the two of you would probably just end up falling over, although it wouldn’t do anything to hinder him in the slightest. Instead, he’d just end up springing back up to his feet and pulling you back up as well, asking what kind of music you’d want to dance to.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Depending on your own personal experiences with dancing, you might find the situation to be a learning situation for the both of you. And, sure, Doe is much more obvious with his confusion about the entire topic, but it’s much easier to excuse him constantly stepping on your feet when you remember that his body isn’t his real one. Besides, he doesn’t say anything when you step on his feet, although you do your best to ignore the fact that it’s not out of politeness and instead out of the fact that he can’t exactly feel it.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・When it comes to his music taste, Doe would genuinely just be fine going along with your preferences. (He’s mostly just happy to have the opportunity to even dance with somebody in the first place, especially somebody that he loves, like you!) Of course, he would indulge you if you really wanted to know. I personally imagine that Doe would prefer softer, almost jazz like songs - ones that sound like they’re from the 1900s. (It’s hard to describe the genre, but think about Frank Sinatra like songs.) I like to think that it would fit, especially when you consider the eldritch-like abilities that he has, and the connection that those kinds of vintage-like songs have to the eldritch genre as a whole.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Truthfully, the worst thing that I could imagine happening (besides the accidental toe stepping) is you bumping your hip into the side of your table a couple of times. Really, dancing with Doe would be a pretty peaceful situation, and you just can’t help but be glad to not worry about something insane happening, moreso when you start to consider just how much manages to happen to you on a day-by-day basis. To be frank, such a peaceful situation was exactly what you needed.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・And luckily, there’s nothing crazy that comes along to ruin your time with him, and you’re totally free to savor the time you two spend dancing around the living room of your barely big enough apartment. Such a totally peaceful situation is incredibly rare to come by within the Valley, and although your time there has managed to get you accustomed to some of the daily weirdness, it’s hard not to notice the extra tension that’s released from your shoulders. You’ve managed to work out some of the bigger mess-ups by the time you’re ready to call in quits, and you and Doe end the dance session by watching TV and leaning into each other. Truthfully, you might just ask him to dance with you some other time.

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[themirokai]

I did my at-least-annual tradition of making my family’s chicken soup recipe on Sunday, and I took process photos, so I thought I’d share. Here’s what I have written down but for all its vagueness it’s still not accurate.

I think every generation has modified some stuff about the process and tweaked it for their particular tastes.

Instead of using a whole chicken, I use a split chicken breast (2 halves) plus a pack of chicken thighs (4). I like this better because the ratio of meat to fiddly bits is better and Surfski likes CHICKEN soup (lots of chicken per bowl). You could easily use half a breast or one or two fewer thighs, but I think the mix of white and dark meat is important for flavor.

Next is something I added to the recipe after reading Salt Fat Acid Heat. I salt my raw chicken and let it sit out for at least half an hour before I put it in the water. I think this helps the chicken hold flavor through the cooking.

While the chicken is sitting (so a change from the order of the recipe) I chop a large sweet onion plus the carrots, celery, and parsnips. I think I used 5 skinny stalks of celery, 4 carrots and 5 parsnips, but especially given the size variability you’ve got to judge this based on vibes. How much of each vegetable does your heart tell you that you need in your soup? The one exception to this is if you are not familiar with parsnips and you are considering skimping on them or leaving them out. That is not your heart. That is the devil and you must resist. Trust me on this and use about as many parsnips as carrots.

The next step was added by my great aunt who was a genius in the kitchen (also very good at refurbishing antiques but that’s less relevant). You heat up some butter and olive oil and sautee your vegetables in it. Yes it makes another pan to clean but it’s completely worth it. You don’t cook it for long! Just until the carrots and celery get bright and the onion is just starting to get translucent and everything is a tiny bit soft.

Ok, set the veg aside but I highly recommend snacking on some of the parsnips at this point. Every time I make chicken soup it always makes me want to make roast parsnips and I always forget when I’m meal planning.

Next it’s chicken time! Load your chicken into a big heavy pot and cover it with water. I just barely cover it because I’m going to need room for lots of veg.

Put that on your biggest burner and boil it. It will take a while to come up to a good boil. Once it’s boiling it will start to foam. This stuff.

Ick. Skim that off and throw it away.

Now, when the foaming is done, turn down the heat and dump in your veg. Mix it all in there then put your bunch of dill on top. Make sure you take off the twist tie or anything else holding the dill together.

My mom added this next step which she got from a friend of hers. It’s this shit called Better Than Bouillon.

You can use the plain chicken variety. Roast chicken is just what my grocery store had. I’m not 100% sure what it is but it really does add gorgeous flavor to the soup. I put one big spoonful in a big pot. This is what it looks like out of the jar.

Now you let everything cook together until the chicken is cooked. How long will that take? 🤷🏻‍♀️ Depends on the size of your chicken pieces and how high you have the heat, etc. When you think it might be done, pull out your biggest piece of chicken and poke it. It should be white and firm. If it is, pull the rest of the chicken out too and turn the heat way down but leave the veg and the dill in to simmer.

Now you walk away. Go scroll tumblr. Read a chapter of a book. Draw something. But you gotta let the chicken cool down.

Why? Because you’re going to shred that with your fingers and you don’t want to burn your fingerprints off. Or maybe you do. I don’t know your life.

Anyway, this is a good spot for me to stop and hit post because I’m on mobile and I’ll run up against the 10 image limit.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this so far! The rest of the recipe and the end product will be in a reblog.

[stargazingellie]

lazarus is risen

chapter seven: perseus & andromeda – part one

(masterlist) (part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

hello beautiful people <3 here is chapter seven !!

synopsis: After deciding to let Abby live, Ellie has returned to Jackson. But given everything she's lost, it no longer feels like home. She's sad, she's confused, and above all else, she is so, so very lonely. So when a group of strangers shows up and offers her a second chance, she might just take them up on that. Ellie must decide between staying in Jackson – and living with the ghosts of her past – or leaving in search of new meaning. Whatever she decides, her choice will have far-reaching consequences – not just for herself, or for Jackson, but for all of humanity.

Or,

Ellie saves the world, maybe?

(ellie williams x reader, post-tlou2, useless lesbians, slow burn, cross country road trip, lots of references to greek mythology, etc.)

Andromeda: Princess of Greek myth, famous for her legendary beauty. Chained to a rock as sacrifice to the sea monster Cetus.

[Lucy]

Besides the occasional infected, the trip had been relatively quiet. But, as with all things in life, everything is quiet – until it isn’t.

As she watched the raindrops pelt the windshield, Lucy recalled lectures from the meteorology unit in science class. Her teacher’s voice rang in her head: The climate and geography of the midwest make it prone to thunderstorms, intense precipitation, and tornadoes.

Indeed, it did. Thick, heavy drops of water littered the front window faster than the windshield wipers could get rid of them. Bright, forked bolts of lightning split the  clouds and illuminated the otherwise darkened sky. Claps of thunder shook the inside of the truck so loud that Lucy could feel them reverberate in her teeth.

The truck crept its way down the highway, unable to go much faster than a crawl given the thick wall of water limiting visibility. To their left, periodic bolts of lightning backlit the skyline of a nearby city. Through the haze, Lucy could just barely make out the old green signs of the highway. Lincoln, ¼ Mile, they said.

“We’ll pull off and find shelter once we get past the city,” Jacobs yelled over the storm as he drove.

“Why not one of these buildings?” Lucy asked, gesturing down the off-ramp.

“We don’t know what’s down there. Should only be a few minutes. It’ll be safer further away,” Jacobs replied. 

As if on cue, a loud pop! echoed from below the truck. It wasn’t thunder.

“Shit – ” Jacobs muttered as he tried to regain control over the swerving vehicle, until it gradually came to a halt. He groaned, then sighed.

“There’s a spare in the back,” he announced as he and Alvaro prepared to get out. “Stay put, this shouldn’t take long.”

They disappeared from view as soon as their doors were shut. Inside, the heavy rain continued to beat rhythmically on the roof.

Lucy sighed and sunk lower in her seat. “Great timing, huh?” she said, looking over at Ellie. Ellie didn’t reply, instead wringing her hands as she nervously watched outside. It was obvious she was on edge.

Lucy took note and said, “Hey, it’s just a flat tire. They know what they’re doing. It’s gonna be fine.”

Keeping her gaze out the window, Ellie heaved a deep sigh and said, “I know, I know, I just… I have a bad feeling about this.”

“What do you mean?” Lucy asked.

“Well, the cities can be really dangerous. There are some really bad groups out there, and sometimes they’ll come up with these schemes…” she trailed off, clearly remembering something unpleasant. She shook her head. “But yeah, no, I’m sure you’re right.” She turned to Lucy and forced a small smile. Lucy returned the gesture.

Then, the doors flung open, gloved hands reached inside, and all three passengers were ripped out of the truck.

The first thing she felt was the rain – so heavy and so cold. She had to squint to keep the water from dripping into her eyes. Within a matter of seconds, her hair and clothes were completely soaked through, chilling her to the bone.

She lost her footing as she was pulled from the truck, leaving her scrambling on all fours. Strong hands clenched around her wrists from behind, and she desperately tried to gain purchase on the ground as they dragged her away from the vehicle. When her captor came to a stop, Lucy was forced to her knees as the sharp, cold blade of a knife pressed against her throat. The blade was pressed so tightly to her skin that any sudden movement was sure to draw blood.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy could see her father in the same position as a second captor held a knife to his throat. The gloved hand holding the knife was attached to a tall figure wearing a dark, hooded cloak that obscured the rest of their body.

Through the watery haze in front of her, she could just make out Alvaro and Jacobs wrestling with two more hooded figures near the back of the truck. Lucy frantically looked around for their fifth member, but Ellie had been pulled to the other side of the vehicle and was nowhere to be seen.

“Ellie!” Lucy yelled, desperate to be heard over the downpour. She thought she heard a voice yell from beyond the truck, but it was impossible to be sure over the storm.

“Shut up,” a gruff voice from behind her said as the blade pressed deeper into her neck.

Without further outburst, Lucy watched Alvaro and Jacobs as they tussled with their opponents. The strangers were quick and nimble, deftly avoiding the officers’ advances. But the officers were built like oxen, so when they finally landed a punch the hooded figures crumpled to the ground in a heap of fabric.

With their opponents knocked out, the officers stopped to gauge their surroundings. Over here! Help! Lucy wanted to scream, but the knife at her throat kept her quiet. She had no way of knowing what had happened to Ellie, but she thought at least one of the officers would come to her and her father’s aid. She was instantly relieved when they looked in her direction. Yes, yes, we’re over here! She could have sworn she even locked eyes with one of them. 

Needless to say, her stomach dropped when both officers disappeared behind the other side of the truck. She kneeled tensely as the cold rain poured down her back, listening for any sign of life.

Next to her, the figure holding her father shifted their weight. “Hey, what’s going on over there?” they yelled. No response.

“Hey, man,” they said to the person holding Lucy. “We should get out of here while we still can.”

“We can’t just leave them out here!” Lucy’s captor replied.

“C’mon, they could be dead already for all we know! You saw what those guys did to the others.”

Her captor considered for a moment. “Fine, let’s go,” they said, as they removed the knife from Lucy’s neck. “Blessed be the light.”

Lucy didn’t have time to question the statement before the hilt of the knife collided with her temple and everything went black.

------------------------------

Lucy was still in her wet clothes when she woke, and immediately she started shivering. Wrists shackled above her, she sat leaning against the cold, hard wall of what looked like an old conference room. She brought her knees to her chest in a futile attempt to hold onto whatever warmth she could.

The blow from the knife left a throbbing pain in her head and blurred her vision. She had to squint in the harsh fluorescent light. Blearily, she watched as someone wearing a dark hooded cloak entered from the hallway carrying a tray. The figure approached and knelt in front of her, offering a glass of water.

Lucy turned her head in refusal, too weak to say anything more than “Nnn…”

“Please, it will help with the pain,” a gentle girl’s voice emanated from under the hood. “I promise.”

Lucy tried to make out the details of the girl’s face. The lights were too harsh and the hood’s shadow too dark, but Lucy could tell the girl was quite young – maybe 14, if that. She looked sincere, and Lucy reluctantly sipped from the glass as the girl held it to her lips. Lucy accepted apple slices too, glad to have something in her stomach.

The girl looked behind her as if to check if anyone was there. In a hushed voice, she said, “When he comes in, don’t fight him. He’s nicer if he thinks you like him.” Three sharp knocks came from the door, signaling her time was up as she turned to go. “The sedative should help with the pain, too,” she whispered as she hurried away.

Lucy realized what the girl meant just as her eyelids grew heavy and she was pulled back into unconsciousness.

------------------------------

As the drugs wore off, Lucy groggily opened her eyes to find a man seated in a chair in front of her. Unlike the others, this man wore a crisp, pristine suit and tie, face clearly visible. He was clean shaven, and his long, gray hair was carefully styled so as to leave no stray hair out of place. When he smiled at her, she noticed his teeth were a harsh, abnormal white.

“Hello, darling. Welcome back.” He flashed that awful smile at her again. She was still having trouble forming words, so he kept talking. “My men tell me they saved you on the highway out there. Nasty weather, huh? Lucky we were there to help.”

Lucy furrowed her brows, trying to make sense of what he was saying. She knew she was probably nursing a concussion, and forming coherent thoughts proved to be an arduous task. “That’s… that’s not… what happened…” she managed.

“Mmm… must have been a nasty tumble you took,” he said, cocking his head. “Head injuries are no joke, you know.”

“I didn’t… f-fall…” she stammered as she glared at him.

“Ah, my sweet. Perhaps your memory will come back in time.” He raised his eyebrows and made a gesture of surprise with his hands. “Oh! How silly of me, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Keane. I run things here in the city. I’m looking forward to showing you around, once you’ve healed a bit.” He leaned forward and used his hand to caress her knee. Lucy tried to pull away, but there was only so far she could go with her back against the wall. “I think you’ll be very useful here.” He flashed another smile, and being almost face to face with it made her stomach turn. She spat in his face.

Immediately, his demeanor changed. The smile disappeared, his eyebrows lowered, and a cold, cruel look crept into his eyes. He calmly wiped the spit off of his face and leaned back.

“I see you’re not quite healed enough yet. Maybe next time I see you, you’ll remember how lucky you are to be here. Blessed be the light, sister.” He stood up and walked out of the room without saying another word. As he left, a large hooded figure entered, gloved hands wielding a thick baton. Lucy cowered against the wall as the figure swiftly crossed the room, coming directly for her. With one deft strike to the head, everything went black.

------------------------------

“Lucy? Lucy, hey, are you there?” a voice called, sounding far away. Hands gripped her shoulders and shook her back into semi-consciousness. In her half-aware state, Lucy saw the dark hood on the figure in front of her and struggled weakly to get away.

“N-no… get off of m-me…” she mumbled as she curled herself as far away from the figure as she could in her delirious state.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” The voice was soft. The figure removed their hood and gripped her face. Strong, calloused hands gently turned her face so Lucy was forced to look at the person in front of her. As Lucy’s vision focused, she found herself looking into a familiar pair of green eyes.

“Hey, it’s me. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Ellie talked as she unlocked the shackles above Lucy’s head. “I’m gonna get you out of here. Can you walk?” Lucy nodded weakly, but as Ellie helped her stand up, she almost collapsed.

“Woah, woah, okay. That’s okay. Just hold on, alright?” Ellie wrapped one arm around Lucy’s back and the other under her knees as she picked her up. With whatever strength she could muster, Lucy wrapped her arms tightly around Ellie’s neck. She tucked her face into Ellie’s chest to block out the harsh light that made her head throb.

Lucy was conscious enough to keep herself upright, but otherwise everything passed in a blur. She registered doors opening, strange voices, the sensation of being set down and picked back up again. Occasionally, Ellie would mumble something like, “Hey, stay with me, okay?” or, “Almost out, just a little further.”

Eventually, everything faded to quiet. Lucy felt herself being laid on the ground, head propped up on something soft and solid. She managed to open her eyes, and was met not with the harsh fluorescence of before, but with soft morning light peeking through a leafy canopy. Above her, she watched as Ellie smiled softly down at her. Lucy’s head was in Ellie’s lap, and Ellie gently brushed stringy pieces of hair out of her face.

“Hey, you’re okay. I’ve got you,” Ellie said. “We’re safe, for now. You can rest if you need to.”

Grateful for the invitation, Lucy didn’t fight it this time as she slipped back into unconsciousness.