#Neo wear them once please!

[k-white]

The neverending saga of the Pnly Friends cast wearing Khaos iconic orange glasses

The Owner:

Thief n1:

Thief n2:

Thief n3

Thief n4:

Now I just hope we get Neo to wear then so the main cast of Only Friends will have wore each Khaos glasses at least one

[neowinestainedress]

wave | lee donghyuck

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You simply couldn’t care.

Yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, you can be sure I will.”

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

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

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

Haechan is going to find out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mind to explain?”

“I… I didn’t do it on purpose?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You think I did that on purpose?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come in.”

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

“Mark, can you lower the music?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re just mad you can’t beat me.”

“I can,” he retorts smugly.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Grating? Really?”

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

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

“I am studying.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you mind?”

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing? I was kidding!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, anybody in mind?”

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

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

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

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

“Not yet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you close, brat?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not smart of you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not.”

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

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

“So I know how to beat you?”

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

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

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

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

“We are not studying together.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, but there should be a prize.”

“Being better than you is the prize.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, it’s not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Haechan hates you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you mistake our notes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, just not every…thing…”

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

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

“So you plan on being terrible tomorrow?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With what notes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I swear, I — I want to… I want to —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just replied.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a deal.”

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

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

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

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

“Not now.”

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

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

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

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

“Elaborate and change my mind.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t write anything down.”

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

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

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

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

“Can’t compare Vang Gogh to Picasso.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you can’t come in,” you say.

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

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

“Is it really that small?”

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

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

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

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

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

“But you love it.”

“No.”

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

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

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

“And I’ll be at the library!”

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

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

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

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

“Want to go out with me?”

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

“Great, we’re going out tomorrow.”

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

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

“Where would you even take me?”

Haechan smirks. “It’s a surprise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, I appreciate almost everything.”

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

“You have a car?”

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

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

“Yes, I’m sorry I’m poor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanted to take the metro?”

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

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

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

“You have a car?”

“No, I have a driving playlist.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh God,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Once,” you reply immediately.

“Twice, with the kiss…”

“You did that to shut me up.”

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

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

“Unfortunately, your mouth ruins everything.”

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

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

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

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

“And attracted to honey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now, lyricist… I try, sometimes…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have some notes to edit and —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Haechan, what are y—”

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

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

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

“You really think I fucked Professor Kim?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

“What if they lock us inside?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, until you forget everything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leaving,” he replies, shrugging.

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

“What? Are you wet? Do you want me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You take a deep breath. “I hate you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop mocking me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eager, honey?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? And who’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not the professor so…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, would he fuck you better?”

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

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

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

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

“He seems —fuck— fitter than you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckle, deciding to believe him.

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

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

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

“They locked us in!”

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you say resolutely.  

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t believe you followed him blindly.

Your hands are still intertwined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh, humming. “Oh, I know.”

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

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

“Are you hinting at something?”

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

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

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

“Do you?” He winks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I played with your heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your eyes. “Really?”

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

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

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

“That’s a crazy choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, don’t test me, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

Haechan shakes his head, waiting for you to talk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah but —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, forcing yourself to look into his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t?” He gasps, and you nod.

“Yeah, just coffee.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s fucking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@girlwholoveslpreppyattire, @viciousdarlings, @hyuckmoon,

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[rafyki]

(Lil snippet of the Goth!Nico/Surfer!Percy fic inspired by the beautiful amazing incredible art by @neo-kid-funk !! It's definitely going to be much longer, but I hope you enjoy this for now!!)

(under read more bc it's more than 1k words lol)

~~~

“He's here again”.

Jason didn't even turn around to see what Nico was referring to with those words - at that point it was such a common occurrence that it wasn't really necessary. Still, Nico felt a little offended at his friends' dismissal.

“Jason”, he said, almost in a whine. “He's here again”.

Now finally (though with a smile and a roll of his eyes) Jason did turn around to look at the current source of all of Nico's troubles and the main character of many of his dreams.

Dark hair, tall, all tan skin and toned muscles, swim trunks hanging way too low on his hips - all in all, the most handsome man Nico had ever seen, and he couldn't keep his eyes off him.

Nico looked at him coming out of the water holding onto his surfing board as if it weighted nothing (and Nico knew that wasn't true, he had almost collapsed under the weight of one once), a hand going up to card through his wet hair plastered to his forehead. He looked so beautiful and at home in the water Nico couldn't help but feel like he was some sort of sea god.

He was too far away to see it now, but he knew that even his eyes were the color of the sea.

What is he even so hot for?

As ridiculous as it sounded, Nico could feel himself blush just looking at him. Yet there was something (everything really) about him that was so magnetic it made it impossible to tear his eyes away - really, at this point Nico spent most of his shifts at the beach kiosk looking at him; he wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse that that man came to the beach so often.

Percy.

He only knew the name because he had heard a girl calling him (was that his girlfriend? God, Nico really hoped she wasn't), and obviously not because he had had the courage of talking to him outside of the small exchanges whenever Percy came to buy something.

He kept following him with his eyes, teeth absentmindedly biting his lips, playing with the rings there.

He was so busy thinking and trying to stare without making it too obvious that he almost missed it when Jason said: “Looks like he's coming here”.

Nico jumped out of his skin. “What!? No, Jason, please please, you take his order, please”.

Another roll of his eyes and another fond smile that Nico had seen all too many times. “Nico”, Jason said. “It's your chance. Talk to him!”

Nico shook his head vehemently. He could already feel his heart starting to pound in his chest and his cheeks grow hot. “No way. He's going to smile at me! I'm a weak man Jason, don't do this to me”.

An obnoxious laugh reminded Nico that Leo was there too - he was so caught up in thinking about Percy that he had completely forgotten about him; but of course there he was, sprawled on the counter as if he belonged there (and with how much time he spent there even without working with them, it might as well have been). “Goth-boy, you're on a beach wearing a black t-shirt under the august scorching sun - you're anything but weak, man, you can do it”.

“Oh shut up Leo, we all know you're no better than me - remind me how long it took you to talk to Jason?”, Nico shot back.

He wasn't looking at his friends though, his eyes still drawn to where Percy was - and yes, Jason was right and he was definitely coming there.

Nico's heart was beating absurdly fast; it really was ridiculous how much he liked a boy he barely knew. But he did - oh god, he really did. Percy was handsome and bright and had the most beautiful smile Nico had ever seen.

And Nico was just a boy who looked very out of place on a beach.

Still playing nervously with his lip rings, he took off his hair tie and fixed his ponytail. Did his hair look good? He hoped so at least.

What did Percy think about him? Did he even have an opinion on him? Or was he just the weird kid working at the kiosk? Probably.

“Don't deflect Nico, Leo is right”, Jason said, cutting through his line of thought. “And don't worry you look good”.

“As cute and charming as always, man!”, Leo added, and maybe from someone who didn't know him it could have sounded teasing but at this point Nico knew him well enough to recognize the honesty in his smile as he did a thumbs up to show his support. “Just smile and he'll fall for you in a second”.

Nico scoffed at that, but appreciated the sentiment.

It was probably too much hoping that Percy would even look his way, let alone anything more than that.

Jason nudged his shoulder, once again taking him away from his thoughts. “Really, you're all good”, he said. “Now get ready to take his order”.

The next second, Nico found himself staring into a pair of sea-green eyes so deep and mesmerizing he was sure he was drowning in them, could almost feel the water filling up his lungs; and if that wasn't enough, a smile so bright it could rival the sun came with them, effectively cutting off the last bit of breath. Oh it was so unfair.

And he wasn't wearing a shirt - of course he wasn't, they were on a beach and he had just come out of the water five minutes ago. His tanned skin seemed to shine under the sun, water was still dripping from his hair and Nico had to use all of his willpower to not follow with his eyes the little droplets' way down his neck and collarbone.

It was more than unfair, and it was definitely a curse.

“Hi, can I get you anything?”

Thank god he was so used to his job that he could sound natural enough saying that even while panicking on the inside.

Even without looking at them, Nico could feel his friends almost laughing at him; he would have been offended if he weren’t so busy trying to survive the moment. Percy really was way too handsome and hot for Nico’s sanity.

Don’t stare at him, he berated himself, it’s not polite to stare at customers. He’ll think you’re weird.

Oh god, he needed a smoke as soon as possible. If he kept biting on his lip like that he would end up biting his lip ring away.

“Huh”, Percy seemed to think about it for a second. “Can I have the same blue drink from last time? You remember?”

Nico did remember. It had been the longest conversation he had ever had with Percy (the longest and most intense five minutes of his life until now), with the surfer asking for some kind of blue drink, and Nico trying his best to understand and make it for him - he had managed to, in the end, and then had proceeded to think non stop for days about the happy smile Percy had gifted him.

For some reason, the way Percy said “you remember?” made Nico’s insides melt, a swarm of frantic screaming butterflies flying in chaos in his stomach. Like it was something between the two of them, something they shared.

Nico had never felt more ridiculous in his life.

“Yeah, I remember”, he managed to say, and in a way it was a relief to turn around and get to work. Part of him wanted to drag it out as long as possible just to make Percy stay a little longer; at the same time, though, part of him wanted this to be over as soon as possible just so he could finally go back to breathing.

“Great!”, Percy said with a smile, like Nico had just told him the best news of the day.

It was such a peculiar request, “can i get a blue drink” - no flavor or anything, just a blue drink. It was weird and endearing at the same time, and it left Nico wanting to know more about it, more about Percy. He wondered how many other weird and endearing things like that Percy did.

“You like it that much?”, he found himself asking, his mouth moving before his brain even registered it.

Another blinding smile. Nico was so weak.

“Everything tastes better if it’s blue”, Percy said with such conviction that he almost made it sound like that made any sense.

It made Nico stop, and then he couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped his lips.

“Does it?”, he asked, smiling back, as he handed Percy his drink.

Percy nodded. “Of course. You should try it sometimes”.

The butterflies were going absolutely crazy in Nico’s stomach, so much he almost forgot to take the money Percy was giving him. “Maybe I will”, he said.

“Thanks for the drink, Nico”.

For an instant, Nico’s brain went blank except for a mantra of he knows my name, oh god he knows my name. Then he remembered he was wearing a nametag, so of course he did.

Idiot.

“Have a nice day”, he said through the lump in his throat.

“You too!”, Percy said and went to leave. He seemed to think back on it though, because he turned toward Nico again, holding out his right hand to him. “I’m Percy, by the way”.

It felt like looking at himself from the outside, like it was happening to someone else, as Nico shook his hand. It was warm and big, and Nico wanted to hold onto it. “Nice to meet you”.

Percy smiled, big and bright and happy, and Nico smiled back.

“See you next time, Nico”.

Nico stared at him as he left and went back to his friends, pretty sure everything that had just happened must have been a dream.

[lostsoulofdragon]

Pirate!AU story (snippets)

so- this is both Rowan’s first appearance in the story AS WELL AS Souls and Pirate Nightmare first interactions, so be warned- if you want to follow the story through the very slow going comic, don’t read this :)

also, Souls name is Wave in this AU, yes, but I’m still used to writing Soul, so when I do, please tell me so I can correct it! :)

Wave shifted. She'd never seen such a gaze before. It was equally open and deep and captivating as it was unreadable and mysterious. A shiver ran down her spine, and she gently clapped her palms together. Clap clap. Clap clap. … A hulking figure stepped between them, breaking their staring. Not that Wave wanted to keep looking into this strangers eye- that would've been rude by land-dweller standards, if she remembered correctly, and besides, she had to focus on not losing her family in the crowd.

~~~

Nightmare knew. Of course he did. The subtle dots in her fur, her aura, the way she'd cocked her head, her entire appearance. She seemed… naked. Of course, she had a coat of what seemed to be thick fur- monsters with scales and fur weren't required to wear clothes, after all- but she seemed like she was missing something. Another cloak. "… Horror. Keep an eye on the others." Neither Horror nor Dust or Killer got an explanation as their captain left them alone at the stand, pressing through the crowds of humans and monsters. His height was of help here.

~~~

Wave ducked past a group consisting of a snake like monster, two humans, and a dog monster, clutching her bags of goodies to her chest. Simple stuff- one contained fruits, the others vegetables. Her sister had two bags too, containing all necessary tools to patch up a coat. Neo had tore his own last moon during a fight with a killer whale by another coast. Speaking of their father, he carried one bag filled with dried fish. Wave wrinkled her snout at the thought of that. Sure, they would stay in a tavern, but they could easily smuggle in some raw fish, no? "… and remember to not speak to ANYONE." "Yes father." "Of course." The two sisters agreed.

'The Last Drop'. What a fitting name for a tavern where humans, monsters and all in between mingled. Aside sirens. Wave shuddered at the long stripe of purple scales (probably siren scales) that hung over the bar as they entered. When she tilted her head, the sirens scales appeared golden. The bar was cozy. Big, but cozy. Dark, too- not a problem for selkie or monster eyes though. It smelled like alcohol, warm, wet wood, sea salt and meat all in once- Wave felt like rubbing her nose until the smell left her nostrils. When Wave looked to the sides of the room, she'd see round tables and booths, some of which occupied by the occasional monster.

Behind the counter, an old, sheep like monster was cleaning glasses with a (surprisingly) clean wash cloth. They barely looked up as the three new faces entered, but Wave could feel their judging gaze almost physically, like a gust of wind. She laid her hands together, tapping her fingers against each other. "… g'day. Welcome to the last drop. What'ya want?" "A room, please." "Mh. One silver per person." Neo huffed, his eyes narrowing at the second once-over the barman gave them. Then, they extended a hand- hoof- towards them expectantly. Neo pulled the small bag of coins from inside his other bag, and counted out three silver coins. The barman accepted them, and gave a key to Neo, who barely nodded, before turning to step up the stairs to their stay. Both Lei and Wave followed their father.

Their room was… decent. It had two beds- no problem, Wave and Lei could share one- and they could view the ocean from here, a reminder of their home. But the smell of sweat and wet wood was almost suffocating. The floorboard creaked, and the window couldn't be locked. The selkies couldn't care less about whether or not their mattress was thick or thin. They were used to sleeping on beaches, in the woods, and to doze underwater. A good or bad mattress didn't matter, as long as it was a mattress.

~~~

Nightmare didn't enter the 'Last Drop'. Oh no- not yet. He knew better than to scare off his prey. It was all about observing with selkies. Find out their habits, their routines. Identify their weakest part, and then you circle them. He made a mental note of the tavern before he turned to return to his crew and adjust their purchases. They would stay a few days, it seemed. "… Horror, put that back. We don't need the chickens yet." "We don't?" "No. I've found three…" Nightmare glanced around. No one paid attention to him, surprisingly, even though his coat was rather expensive looking. "… targets."

The brutes eye seemed to light up, and he instantly dropped the chicken he'd just held. The birds scurried off in between the shoppers legs, causing a few curses and stumbles from bystanders. "On it, boss." Horror grinned. Nightmare hadn't even given a command, but protocol was the same. Horror turned to search for Dust and Killer, easily being able to look over the crowd. Soon enough, all three pirates stood in a somewhat close circle around Nightmare. "Dust. I didn't see them carry coats, so you'll look through the jungle between the bay and here for their hides. Killer, you and Horror will be responsible for looking for information about those wretched creatures. Selkies like to stick to places they already know, so they must've been here already at least once." No arguments or discussions. As usual.

He wrinkled his nose as he stepped into the 'Last Drop'. Geez, and the selkies couldn't've picked a more respectable establishment?

He marched up to the bartender, the sheep's head twitching upwards. "One silver per person." The monster grumbled, their ear flicking. Piercing red met an intense cyan as the bartender locked eyes with Nightmare.

"Two rooms. One for three, and a single." The barman didn't bat an eye. "Sure. Four coins." Nightmare squared his shoulders ever so slightly. "Three coins." "Three? No can do, sir. I have a tavern to finance." The captain offered the sheep a sharp smile. "What a shame that I frankly couldn't care less." "Four or nothing." At those words, Nightmare felt the urge to strangle that sheep. The two stared at each other for an entire minute longer, unmoving, unblinking, until Nightmare reached into his coat, and threw four silver coins onto the counter. The corners of the sheep's mouth twitched upwards, and seconds later, Nightmare held two keys in his hands.

No matter how much he wanted to commit various hate crimes against the bartender that just outlasted him and his pressuring, he held himself back. No. He was here for something else. Passing the key to one of his crewmates, he glared at the bartender, before turning and stepping up the stairs to the quarters. He passed three doors, before the number on his key matched the number of one of the doors. He unlocked the door, stepped inside.

Mh. Not the worst. He eyed the bed, and with a flick of his wrist he rid the mattress and covers from ticks and other bugs. The suffocatingly stale air was like a thick blanket, weighing him down. With a scowl, Nightmare pushed open the window, breathing in the fresh, salty breeze outside. Better. A LOT better. He exhaled. The lost standoff against the bartender still bummed him- he could go for a mug of rum now. How much would that be? A few bronze coins? A silver coin? Not that it mattered. Nightmare had at least 67 gold coins worth of siren scales in the cargo deck of his ship anyways… and a single selkie pelt was 30 gold coins. 40 if he managed to preserve the magic. A challenge for a magicless human, but to him? Merely a flick of his wrist. So he could expect a payout of 120 gold coins once he was done here.

…

He still wanted some alcohol. So, after pulling up a half serious magical barrier around his room to keep intruders out, he stepped back out onto the corridor. Horror stood there, waiting for the others to settle in their own room. The giant had to duck even in the corridor, and when he bent down to step into the room, his back arching to a sickening degree, Nightmare doubted he would fit inside TWO beds. He peeked into their room as he passed it, observing how Dust pushed Killer off to squeeze past Horror and claim a bed, when he collided with someone.

~~~

Wave hadn't moved as she observed the giant skeleton squeeze through the corridor. She was embarrassed to admit it, but seeing such a BEAST pass her room had made her curious about just WHAT his business here was. When that other skeleton had ran into her, though, she'd instantly forgotten about that curiosity. That GAZE. That color. The cyan eyelight of the skeleton burnt into her, like a torch in the darkness. It blinked, slowly. Only then did she notice that her claws dug into his jacket as she'd instinctively reached forward to grab onto something to prevent both from falling.

“O-oh! Apologies, sir! I’ll- I’m sorry.” His glare felt like it burnt into her very flesh, so she clasped her hands together, turned around, and fled the scene down the stairs.

With swift steps, Wave hushed through the bar- not without greeting the bartender, who merely nodded in response.

[[ Pirate!AU belongs to @superbfirnacho ]]

[[ Wave & Rowan belong to me]]

[bengiyo]

Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy X A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep 4 (Finale) Stray Thoughts

Yesterday, we transitioned into the A Tale of Thousand Stars portion of this crossover, and the mood shifted to match. There’s been a lot of consternation about the episode, and whether it represents a weak outing from Aof and friends. I have decided that it doesn’t matter for me, because it mostly worked for me. I understood the intention of having these characters get lost in the woods repeatedly no matter who they were with. I’ll have more to say this weekend, I’m sure.

Not these two coming for my man Phupha’s back during their roleplay!

I’m glad Pat and Pran got to have a cute montage before they left.

We will finally be free of the Our Skyy 2 theme.

I like that Pran made a friend out of Tian on this trip. Pran has so few friends, and I’m glad he was able to make one on his own.

Pat, please never stop terrorizing Phupha.

Unsurprised that Tian broke first on the apology, but glad to see Phupha getting flirty.

You just knew he was going to sign. I’m not even worried about the conditions. He wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t force you to meet him where he is.

I really hope tourists don’t tarnish this waterfall.

It’s not time for Only Friends yet, so we can’t have someone fondling tiddies yet on GMMTV. Mark, Neo, and Book, you are to be our champions.

Ah, Oishii tea is here. We can relax now.

Okay, I’m having fun with flirty Phupha.

We’re finally acknowledging the mosquito net as foreplay!

Finally, we the people have received what we needed. I wanted them to kiss so badly the first time they were here, and I’m finally sated.

Tian is wearing the Nong Nao sleeping mask! This is not a drill!

They did the Bad Buddy score scene. Few things make me happier than seeing older gays learn something from their juniors. Good for Phupha to get flirty in the morning.

I don’t think I mind Phupha surprising Tian in Bangkok, since it’s always seemed like a long drive. I get Phupha wanting that time to collect himself and put on his best face.

���People here let their cameras eat first.” I hate this description, but he’s correct.

GAYS IN A PHOTOBOOTH! I’m just going to pass out now.

Yes, Tian. Please upgrade this man’s fit.

Phupha is being so brave about how nervous he is about new clothes and their costs.

I’m so glad we’re getting to play dress up with Phupha like he’s a Ken.

Oh, I’m crying a little bit. Asking that Pat and Pran portray them feels like the exact restriction Phupha would apply. He would want their story told by people who know them and who they can trust a bit. I think Pran definitely gets Phupha.

Mix has such an incredible way to shift his face slightly and be suddenly so smitten.

Ink and Pa are at the play!!

This play was cute. I loved this.

Not the reversal on the finger suck into a genuinely decent kiss once again interrupted by Pa!!

White cameo!! I hope he continues to pop up in BL for the next 60 years.

Phupha and his surprises. I’m okay with it for today, but I hope his next step is being more forthright.

I love that Tian’s parents led the conversation for Phupha. He needed their approval, but respects them too much to ask for it.

His errand was a ring for a proposal. I forgive him for everything.

“We finally have a thousand stars now.” Okay, gonna lie down and cry. I don’t know what it was, but something old in me just snapped.

I really like Mix and Earth as a pair. They play their dynamic differently with each couple. Tian and Jim kiss differently than Wen and Jim.

Yes, give us the same unhinged outro that Pat and Pran gave us in episode 12.

Final Verdict: 10, Highly Recommended (Primarily for Gay Reasons). I understand a lot of the complicated feelings everyone has about Pat and Pran, but I personally loved all of this. I respect Aof telling something mildly dissatisfying with Pat and Pran, because that is honestly at the core of their dynamic. They are constantly subject to outside influences that make it difficult for them to be happy the way they want to be, and that is most evident in Pran. I really liked them crossing over to meet Tian and Phupha, because we got to see both couples really face who they are.

Part of the big difference here is that we are still seeing Pat and Pran in the middle of their story, and Pran especially still has things he needs to sort. With Tian and Phupha, we’re seeing them after their show ended. We’re seeing them face themselves with the help of the Chaos Gays that showed up on their doorstep. As a result, everyone got to see themselves differently, and we the audience got some of what we needed from both shows.

For me, I just love that both of these couples are “in repair” and are trying to be present for each other. Like Uncles Cheep and Dej said, once the infatuation fades, it’s about trust and commitment. I like that we walked away from this with me feeling like that’s the goal for both of them.

Shoutouts to @shortpplfedup @lurkingshan, @ginnymoonbeam, @waitmyturtles, and @wen-kexing-apologist for talking through episode 3 yesterday. 

[desceros]

I'm guessing by your banner that you also like Minecraft sooooo, turtle Minecraft headcannons to spare please 🥺? Just in general, all the Donnie's are definitely into Minecraft. I feel like all the rise turtles are also definitely into Minecraft and Leo, mikey and Donnie all had a big Minecraft phase in their childhood and maybe they still play multiplayer with each other when their bored and have nothing better to do. Maybe gaming headcannons in general for the turtles?

i play it for like. a week once a year. then i get distracted by something else and forget i was playing. this cycle repeats once every twelve months. the neo-mayan calendar.

i'll do rise specifically bc im feeling soft for it rn

donnie loves fiddling with command blocks to set up the server, and he loves setting up fun traps for his brothers. he's huge into redstone and builds amazing contraptions. his base is one where you have to fall through lava to get inside, and he has, like. fifty secret rooms for all his loot. he has the most optimum selection of armor and always wears his elytra so he can fly out of trouble. he has 500 cats at every build so creepers can't come by and blow them up.

raph loves the combat. he never uses a shield bc it makes it 'too easy.' at any given moment, the lower left hand of the screen is filled with his death messages. he also loves the exploration part, and he's always sending coordinates for interesting things for people to check out later. his base is a dirt box with a single bed and one chest filled with some string, a single diamond, four pieces of steak, a dark oak slab, a soul strider book, and two brown mushrooms. full netherite armor (mostly bc he keeps dying in the nether and everyone got tired of him burning through all their diamonds, so they pulled together and farmed up enough netherite to give him something that wouldn't burn up)

mikey is the builder on the server. he likes to beautify things and terraform, and his base is a custom mountain valley he built in the middle of a flower forest biome. he can make every block look good. raph's house actually makes him angry, like legit, but raph won't let him pretty it up for him. he dies to creepers a lot bc he never remembers to light up his builds, and they sneak up on him while he's listening to music and building. he wears unenchanted iron armor (except when donnie forces some blast protection iv on his ass) except for his feather falling iv diamond boots.

leo's here for the mining. he loves collecting shit and bringing it back home. he'll go out with an inventory of shulker boxes, stuff 'em full, then bring them home and go back out again. he's the spine of the server; sitting afk at the witch farm so donnie can get enough redstone, going out and getting more terracotta so mikey can finish his trading hall, and helping raph collect his shit when he dies in the end and oh god maybe his elytra landed on the side???? he'll also put on a playlist and just strip mine for hours until he runs through his fourth diamond pickaxe and has to go to the gold farm to repair it up. never upgrades to netherite armor because the diamond armor is blue.

[kayakischaotic]

PJO/HOO/TOA HEADCANONSSSS 🎉🎉🎉

WHOS READY TO RUMBLEE

also I haven’t read the books in awhile + I have terrible memory so o7

clears my throat

PERCY JACKSON:

—>all my faves had a emo phase. including Peter Johnson

—>he owns a BUNCH of different earrings, nothing too big or extravagant, but like a little fish, maybe an arrow, etc

—>dyes part of his hair blue because he’s Percy

—>Sally TOTALLY knew he was bi when he was little

—>has a bi flag necklace (I’m jealous)

—>once dyed his hair blonde while he was at camp and after everyone called him a dumb blonde he decided to never dye it blonde again

—>he totally loves having his hair played with cause Sally used to always play with his hair when he was a kid

—>his eyes change from blue to green depending on the lighting

—>he’s been the little mermaid for Halloween at LEAST once

—>has an extensive collection of Hawaiian shirts

ANNABETH CHASE:

—>she sticks a bunch of little pins on her Yankees hat

—>doesn’t know how to drive (at least not very well)

—>if she could she’d have road rage so much

—>probably owns at least 5 different pairs of earbuds/headphones that she uses on her iPod and/or Daedalus’s laptop

—>building a campus place similar to New Rome at CHB

—>instead of a box of chocolates for Valentines day, she once gave Percy a bag of M&M’s. but only the blue ones

—>drinks at least 3 cups of coffee most days

—>bi-curious/questioning

—>also questioning her gender a bit

—>read Harry Potter and couldn’t tell if she wanted to BE Hermione or be WITH Hermione (still can’t tell)

GROVER UNDERWOOD:

—>pan, ace

—>will eat anything if he’s stressed

—>has little rings he can put around his horns for added style

—>tism

—>he/they KING!!

—>will just snack on a head of lettuce

—>has to wear reading glasses (what a nerd /pos)

—>has an extensive knowledge of which plants around CHB taste good, and which taste bad (has definitely been taken to the medics once or twice for eating poisonous plants)

JASON GRACE:

—>everyone makes fun of him because of The Brick™️.

—>THEATER KID

—>will ramble to you about wolves for as long as you will let him

—>frequently dyes small strips of his hair with hair chalk

—>him and Annabeth are like best friends. please.

—>questioning

PIPER MCLEAN:

—>she ate the rest of the non-blue M&M’s for Annabeth

—>genderfluid she/her lesbian.

—>helps Hazel, Annabeth, and the other girls do their hair (and sometimes Percy)

—>sees Jason and Leo as her brothers

—>wears suits to fancy events

—>usually uses her charmspeak to win at board games

—>girl in red’s biggest fan

—>EVERYONES WINGMAN

LEO VALDEZ:

—>makes everyone friendship bracelets

—>will totally light candles just to watch them burn

—>pretends he’s Festus’s vet whenever he has to fix him

—>calls the Argo II his child

—>doesn’t have a proper sleep schedule in the slightest…

—>gay, demiboy

—>totally introduced everyone else to neo/xeno pronouns

—>he/they/it mainly, but also uses a bunch of neos and xenos

—>has a dragon stuffed animal he calls Festus Jr. that he struggles to sleep without

—>he is the autism creature /j

—>will call anyone in sight bro or dude

—>scared of heights

—>keeps calling himself “the rizzler”

REYNA AVILA RAMIREZ-ARELLANO:

—>therapist friend

—they/she

—demiromantic asexual

—>astrology lover

—>straight A student without trying or studying

HAZEL LEVESQUE:

—>the only person on the Argo II that can keep a plant alive (somehow)

—>unlabeled

—>her and Nico help paint everyone’s nails

—>is always wearing either a skirt or overalls. (better yet: overalls skirt)

—>lactose intolerant

—>totally holds a dance at Camp Jupiter that is similar to a school dance at least once a year

FRANK ZHANG:

—>token straight friend

—>has a fairly large stuffed animal collection (only to be rivaled by Octavian’s)

—>if he ever visits CHB he purposely avoids being near the fire

—>makes the rest of the 7 watch superhero movies with him

—>owns lots of comics

—>him and Percy ramble about superheroes and comics together

NICO DI ANGELO:

—>certified DJ of the 7

—>his favorite restaurant isn’t even McDonald’s.. (it’s Olive Garden /j)

—>if demigods could use technology, he would totally be a tumblr user. (happy (late) Ides of March)

—>THEATER KID

—>he keeps saying “gaslight gatekeep girlboss” and everyone is kinda confused

—>loves listening to 70s/80s/90s rock

—>is (attempting) to learn the drums

—>survives off of energy drinks and coffee

—>has a nightlight in his cabin for when Will visits

—>also listens to Crywank

WILL SOLACE:

—>definitely has dressed up as a lamp for Halloween

—>HE/THEY!!!

—> trying to convince Nico to be in a band with him, playing guitar, Austin, playing sax, and Apollo, playing flute (Nico’s not having it)

—>favorite color is “all of them”

—>attempts to grow plants (fails)

—>he would totally be addicted to Tiktok if he had it

—>if anyone asks what time it is he will respond one of three ways: “it’s time for lunch” “its game time” or “it’s time for you to get a WATCH”

—>he’s really bad at reading clocks

—>totally cried during Frozen

APOLLO/LESTER PAPADOPOULOS:

—>he/they bi icon

—>motto is “fake it til you make it”

—>adhd, probably

—>always looses board games

—>chronically online…

—>will purposely sing the wrong words to popular songs so half of CHB thinks they’ve been singing these songs wrong the entire time

—>him and Nico bond over saying things like “gaslight gatekeep girlboss”

—>scared of the dark

—>quotes Mean Girls at least once a day

—>trying to make a theater class at CHB (Chiron agrees, Dionysus is… not quite there yet)

—>surprisingly good at lying (fake it til you make it!)

—>some Aphrodite kids told him their skincare secrets while he was mortal and gave them a few products

—>wears eyeliner on a daily basis

—>when he was a mortal the Aphrodite cabin and his cabin played dress-up on him and made him wear a bunch of weird outfits

THATS ALL FOR NOW!!!!!

I bet you totally can’t tell who my favorites are by how much they have put down…. /s

TELL ME SOME OF YOUR HEADCANONS SO I CAN ADD THEM TO MY HOARD

[novankenn]

Four of a Kind... WHY stop there?

/== Master Post List ==/

Fiona Thyme was not having a good time. Robyn had asked for a volunteer to go to Vale to keep tabs on Ironwood and Atlas' military... which should be protecting Mantel and not some "academy pissing contest", as Robyn put it. Fiona stepped forward, and now she was wishing she hadn't.

The job was simple enough... it was just the crowds. They were just causing her so much stress. Yet here she was on a guided tour of Beacon. She had to admit, Beacon was a nice looking school. Much less utilitarian that Atlas. She had just about gotten over her nerves when she froze, there were two people standing very close to her. As she stood there she watched the tour group move further and further away.

????: You're adorable!

Fiona: Ex... excuse me?

????: Yes she is. Sister Weiss, do you think Sister Pyrrha would mind?

Fiona stepped away and turned to face whomever had gotten so close to her. She froze when she saw a pair of young woman, both in blue dresses, trimmed with golden thread. She easily recognized Weiss Schnee, but not her companion.

Fiona: Ex... excuse me? Who are you and what are you doing?

Weiss: My apologies. This is my Sister Ruby.

Ruby: Hello.

Fiona: Hello?

Weiss: What are you thoughts on... children?

Fiona: Ah... what?

Ruby: She and Jaune would make rather precious little ones, don't you think?

Weiss: I agree.

Fiona: What are you two...

As one Ruby and Weiss, moved in. Hooking their arms through Fiona's they started to walk, causing Fiona to stumble and fall in step with them.

Fiona: HEY!!! Let me go! What are you doing?

Ruby/ Weiss: You have been chosen. Come sister-to-be, join us in making a better world.

Fiona: HELP!

Fiona tried to struggle, but the pair of young woman holding her were much stronger than one would have thought just from looking at them. But what was worse was how even though she was screaming for help... EVERYONE just vanished... like literally took off running in the opposite direction.

Weiss: Sister Pyrrha!

Ruby: We have found an initiate!

Fiona's face paled as she saw someone anyone would recognize... Pyrrha Nikos, also wearing the same dress as Ruby and Weiss... but what was really troubling was the struggling form of a red haired cat faunus draped over Pyrrha's shoulder like a bag of potatoes.

Pyrrha: How wonderful! I have discovered one as well!

Ruby/ Weiss: The King Mother will be over joyed! Blessed be the grand-babies!

Pyrrha: Blessed be the grand-babies.

????: LET ME GO YOU PYSCHO!!! I"M NOT BECOMING SOME FEISTISH BREEDING BITCH FOR YOUR SICK GAMES!!!

Weiss: Sister Pyrrha, that language.

Pyrrha: Neon. Enough.

Neon: STUFF IT BI... *Smack!* ... EEP! You just slapped my ASS!

Pyrrha: Shall I spank you again?

Neon: No...

Pyrrha: Thank you. Now who is you initiate?

Fiona: Fi... Fiona Thyme.

Pyrrha / Weiss / Ruby: SO PRECIOUS!!!

Fiona blushed at the praise, and then grew scared again as the group was once again moving. But they approached a very ominous looking door, fear spiked in side her, and Neon. It jumped even further when the door opened and Professor Goodwitch, also wearing a blue dress trimmed with golden thread stepped out.

Neon/ Fiona : HELP US!!!!

Glynda: Sisters, welcome back. The King mother wishes for a conference after the evening meal.

Neon/ Fiona: Please! Please!

The door snapped shut with an ominous thud when all six figures stepped inside the room. Across the hall a pair of heads peeked out into the hall.

Yang: This is starting to get out of hand. We should do something... or warn someone...

Blake: Yang, honey... do you really want to go head to head with a group that has Pyrrha, Professor Goodwitch, Weiss, your sister Ruby, May Zednog, Arslan Atlan, Neo, and Jaune?

Yang: Not really... but we can't just not do something!

Blake: I'll tell you what we will do, my little Sundragon.

Yang: (Blushing) ...

Blake: We are going to keep you as far away from those nut-cases as possible. I am NOT loosing my blond.

Yang: Huh?

Blake: Yang, I love you... and we're moving to Menagerie. We'll live with my parents until we can get our own place.

Yang:.. you love me?

Blake: Yes, now call your dad, tell him your moving in with your girl-friend, I'll start packing.

Blake gives Yang a quick peck on the lips, and then flutters her eye lashes at her.

Yang: Okay.

/====/ A/N : Well I have been give more suggestions... so I'll see what I can do to keep this insanity going.

Thanks to @freshmiraclecheesecake for suggestion Neon Katt, and thanks to @allday2006 for the suggestion of Fiona Thyme. Also Thank you to @segmentaldragon for the list of "potential initiates"... let's see if I can get a few more of these out?

[corey-beepington]

Hello! After re-watching your Deltarune short film, Eviction Day, I can confidently say that I:

Am SO happy to find that you have a tumblr blog! :D

Absolutely LOVE that film, despite not being in the Deltarune fandom but still intrigued by the concept/story of Spamton and the Addisons - I genuinely think this is perhaps the BEST interpretation of Spamton's story (and possibly the best Deltarune fan project) I've ever seen!

I'd like to ask a couple of questions regarding the short film if that's okay with you:

What parts of the Addisons' personality did you want to show through your designs (the way they wear their jackets, their eye colour, body type, hairstyle, etc.) and why?

What inspired you to focus on Blue Addison's perspective for the film?

While I understand the references to Spamton Neo with the 'twisted angel' imagery, am I correct in theorising that 'Big Shot' equated to the whole angel thing Spamton became obsessed with (please correct me if this is not the case)?

(Btw I absolutely adore your design of Blue Addison - he's adorable and looks like he'd give the best hugs! And I think he definitely needs a hug after what he witnessed in the short film.)

Thanks for enjoying my silly short film...first time ive ever gotten a big ol string of questions about it sooooo -puts on my reading glasses screen or whatever would be the equivalent for a silly little television-

There we go, i do love talking alot about what goes into a cartoon sooooo

here goes the Ramble

I love the addisons, and I LOVE when people give them individual body types instead of copy/pasting the same skinny twink..I think it adds alot more personality to them..especially since their entire personality is...I guess having no personality. I like to think they have an "advertising" personality which is copy/paste but once theyre off duty, they're themselves. I wanted to show this with one scene in Eviction Day where Blue Advertises when trying to rehearse what to say.

As for each Addison's design itself...Well..I knew the full group of addisons would have very very little screentime, yet I wanted the audience to FEEL for them ya know?

Actually, in the first first first draft of Eviction Day, the diner scene was MUCH longer...but it made Pink WAAAAAY too unlikeable...and I didn't wanna animate all of it.

So I had to make the designs count

In general, I love them with blacked out eyes, it makes them feel more...robotic...even a tad bit frightening...also a fan of their eye's being glowy and think a black scalera would amplify it. I remember seeing blacked out eyes for addisons one day when scrolling instagram..I don't remember the artist sadly, but I latched onto that hc almost instantly.

Their suits are pretty copy-paste with the exception of Pink who doesnt wear an undershirt and lets his fluff sort of hang out...it feels very Pink to me...speaking

Anyway, each design individually

Pink

Pink is..well Pink, very sharp, probably the one who gets the most sales and thus designed to be the most "conventionally attractive" out of the bunch. As mentioned above, I wanted to show how proud he is by him being the only addison who doesn't wear an undershirt and preferring to let his fluff hang out.

He's only in a few shots..but he exists to well...foreshadow...I mentioned in another ask, I don't see Pink as a jerk, more as a guy overcompensating on his hate towards Spamton to cover up deep down missing him and being worried. He worried once Blue shows signs of distress.

Very superficial.

Yellow

My yellow, unlike popular hc, is far more chill, a gentle giant if you would...like he's a guy you can depend on, but very shy despite his looks. He never appears until the end at the Trash Zone so this gives me the "he's shy" hc...or he's also not much a seller. I see Yellow as a guy who sets up his group's store front...and probably beats up viruses with his bare hands, you know the behind the scenes backstage guy.

He's dependable and friendly, and that's why he is how he is.

Orange

He exists.

Like...I'm not super attached to Orange...So he's just...Orange...generic...I see him more as holding a managerial position over the group over selling (he does try to scam you)..but he was never doing anything major in the short so he just...Exists I guess.

BLUE

BOY BABY BOY. HE IS MY FAVORITE.

Blue strikes me as the friendliest and most huggable of the group, in game he doesn't scam you....or even try to...he just gives you free samples...and you can take as many as you want!

I wanna think he's not a great salesmen, but he's built at "marketable plushie" size so he can at very least draw people in...considering your intent to hug him, I think it's working.

For some weird reason, a handful of people have asked in a "is this a fetish" way or even been upset at me for making blue plus sized and to that I say

go outside.

You'll find that people of all shapes exist in the real world <3

Just for you anon, here's some old concept art. I wanna give a big big thanks to my friend SPAMiGO who helped me tie down their designs. I'm not the best character designer, so he was a huge help in making these designs nice!

2. Why Blue?

Awhile ago, I made an animation called "Spamton's Biggest Deal"

Alot of people liked it for some reason.

I wanted to do something like that again...I honestly didn't quite like this cartoon, it was rushed and ew old spamton art...

I didn't want it being my only contribution to the Deltarune fandom...I was feeling...quite ambitious....

So it crawled so Eviction Day could run.

I'm a horror artist by nature, I LOVE horror and I wanted to MAKE another horror deltarune cartoon because it was VERY heavily requested...but i didn't know what

Over the summer in 2022, I ended up cosplaying the Blue Addison..in my research...I found the line about garbage noise...

I think every scary thing that could be done with spamton has been done.

But this

This detail was so overlooked.

There was SO MUCH horror to be had in this scene that I just HAD to do something with it.

And so I wrote the first script in august...I really fell in love with the blue addison around this time and wanted to share my love of this overlooked character with other people.

Also I ship blue addison and spamton really hard and struggled to find Content

(disclaimer because someone will ask: I do not headcanon the addisons as brothers)

So this was another way to spread my gospel...albeit subtly....

Ships do things to a person.

When Undertale's anniverssary came around, I re-posted it to twitter and asked

"why the hell did you guys like this"

I got alot of good answers, i asked what was good, what was bad, what you'd like to see

And then weaved it all together.

I officially began on the short in september of 2022.

but tldr: i liked the character, i liked the horror, 123 addisons making out cyber cafe.

3.

Ah...the mural....

Ok I'll spill the beans, the mural was the very first shot that beamed itself into my head when Eviction Day was barely a thought...just the image of Blue Addison staring at something...horrible...

It was the sole reason I made the film

I plan on doing a more elaborate post on my patreon in the future about it because there was SO MUCH thought that went into this one 5 second shot.

as for your question specifically

There's many ways to interperet the mural tbh...I wanna think Spamton saw himself as a savior...an angel...one who would bring the light and become big..bigger than anything

A God.

or something like that.

That's all the time for now anon. I hope this answered your questions....as I said I will ramble on and on about pre-production stuff, sometimes ill throw stuff up on the patreon as well (the animatic is there now actually) if you wanna support more stuff like it too!

Now go take a rest...your eyes must be so sleepy reading all this

[roninkairi]

And now for something, completely different...

The Persona 5 Cast Goes To See "The Super Mario Bros. Movie"

(At LeBlanc)

Zenkichi: Hey Ren, thanks for getting tickets for me and Akane! I've been swamped with work, so I hadn't had time to get some.

Akane: Wow, I can't wait! I heard it almost made a billion bucks before it came to Japan!

Ren: No problem. It was Sojiro's idea actually.

Sojiro: Think of it as a thank you for helping out Ren and Futaba last summer. But man...never thought I'd see them try to make a movie out of that game again.

Zenkichi: Yeah tell me about it. If you told the teenage me this was going to happen, I'd thought you were bonkers.

Ryuji: Wait, you guys know about Mario Bros?

Sojiro: Of course we do.

Zenkichi: I still have my original Famicom and a copy of the game stashed in my attic. I used to play the hell out of it after I had finished my studies.

Akane: So that's what's in that box. I thought it was old festival decorations or something. How far can you go in one life?

Zenkichi: Well, I suppose I could go as far as 8-3 now if I tried today...

Sojiro: First or 2nd run?

Zenkichi: Second, definitely second.

Akane: No fair, I barely could make it to World 6 on my first!

Ryuji: I'm kinda lost here, what do you mean 'first run'?

Sojiro: Let me explain...(sips coffee) When you first play the game, your basic enemies are Goombas. After you save the Princess though, the game gets harder. All the Goombas are replaced with Buzzy Beetles.

Ryuji: Buzzy Beetles don't sound so bad.

Zenkichi: No, but they are fireproof and they work in the same way that Koopa Troopas work.

Akane: Plus platforms get shorter and in certain areas, new obstacles are added.

Ren: In short, the game gets harder.

Sojiro: I remember watching Wakaba play that game on her days off. She could clear the game within 45 minutes if she felt inclined.

Zenkichi: Wow. That just kills my own personal record.

Ryuji: Hey, where is Futaba? She would be going nuts talking all about this video game trivia.

Ren: She's been in line with Haru and Morgana since last night for the premiere.

Sojiro: And she brought a tent and everything with her.

Zenkichi: That doesn't sound so bad.

Ren: Uh...

Ryuji: This is FUTABA we're talking about. And knowing her...

Zenkichi: Uh oh.

(At the movie theater, Yusuke and Makoto look at a tent pitched outside the movie theater...which is in the shape of a Toad House. Futaba is sitting in a chair dressed as Mario next to it)

Makoto: I am NOT surprised she is doing this.

Futaba: Hey, glad you made it! Please tell me you brought my camera from Sojiro!

Makoto: I did but I thought it was going to be for entirely different purposes.

Futaba: Yeah, but after the premiere of "Neo Featherman x Masqueraider Ouga", I had to get prepared for a cosplay bonanza!

Yusuke: She's not wrong. There are a lot of dedicated fans on line here dressed as other characters. Some of these are indeed most sketchworthy. By the way, Ren told us Ann and Haru were with you.

Ann's Voice: I'm right here. (Ann steps out of the Toad House tent wearing the Princess Peach riding suit. In her arms is Morgana dressed as Luigi)

Morgana: (staring a hole into Yusuke) NOT. ONE. WORD.

Ann: Oh come on Morgana, you look TOTALLY adorable!

Futaba: (whispering to herself) I'm fairly certain that may actually have killed kitty's ego there. (Haru arrives, dressed in a very accurately detailed Princess Peach dress)

Haru: Oh, you're here! How do I look?

Yusuke: O_O

Makoto: o_O

Morgana: WHOA!!!

Every Other Customer In Line: O_O

Futaba: And if you look to your right, you will see that once again Beauty Thief has stolen the hearts of the fanboys in attendance today. (Instinctively, Haru does her pose upon hearing the words "Beauty Thief")

Ann: ...we're so getting our pictures posted on the internet for this, I just know it.

Makoto: At least your riding suit does not come with spikes.

Yusuke: Such elegance! (pulls out sketchbook and begins to sketch with much passion)

BONUS SCENE-

(As the audience watches the movie, Iwai who is with his son, looks and sees Ren sitting with Haru on his left side. On his right side...is Lavenza, dressed in a blue version of Princess Peach's dress, happily eating popcorn.)

Iwai: Somehow, that kid attracts all types.

[shadowthief78]

my toxic trait is that i spend all my time brainstorming ways i could convincingly fit into my fav series instead of doing what i’m supposed to be. anyways so far here’s what i have for blue lock:

Reader is some kind of physical maintenence for the building: cook, janitor, repairman, etc. this leads to lots of funny shennanigans in the kitchen/storeroom/closets, forgetting to lock the doors, and the boys discovering a whole set of secret “STAFF ONLY” tunnels that are used for very non-staff purposes ;)

Bonus for this, because Blue Lock is an isolated building in the mountains, means Reader would likely have their own room or a dorm with fewer roommates. Do with that informations whatever you will. More specific subset, you’re the eletronics person responsible for meking Ego look cool during his presentations but making all the 3D models and stuff (idea from @/phen0l’s shitposting lol)

Physiotherapist or doctor/nurse. I anticipate a lot of Chigiri here (bc of his knee), but also a lot of working with England and Manshine City because of Chris Prince’s personal philosophy of “perfect body”

Publicity person, who’s hired after much of Ego’s grumbling sometime after the match vs the Japanese U20 team. Taking lots of pictures of the boys, editing, general staring for long hours into incredible handsome faces. Also potential for interactions with Sae? hmmmmm

The classic manager of a sports team. Probably works with Anri, wears a cute uniform, and gets a lot of harem/reverse harem action. A classic for a reason. Nice.

I came up with this one just now: Helicopter pilot! Or some other job that carts supplies in/out of Blue Lock. The boys gather on the roof to cheer you when you land and ask for gossip, snacks, and/or letters from their family.Probably treat you like a lost explorer returning from the Siberian tundra after two years away despite you coming in every week or so lol.

Note: I said helicopter because it looks kinda looks like a helicopter in the background of ch. 152 when they’re returning there. I checked again and in ch. 2, it’s actually just buses... much less dramatic :( but you could definitely still be a helicopter pilot bc Ego’s got a huge budget and probably wants the best stuff, as fast as possible, at any expense. Imagine them all cheering when you land and swarming you with hugs once you hop out, then waving like crazy when you take off Bachira

Related to once of the star players in the Neo Egoist League (I go into a bit more detail about Noel [here]). Would work the same as assistant coach, assistant, etc. Scaled up version of the classic manager. Maybe even Ego as a relative would work?

please please PLEASE add more i wanna hear all your ideas (yes this means you! if you have one! <3 don’t be shy!!!)

[soloh]

Reminders and advice for the Wellington protest against "Posie" tomorrow:

-If KJK pulls out, there is still a peaceful pro-trans rally going ahead to show that people don't just show up looking for a fight, and Aotearoa genuinely loves and supports our trans community

-Wear a mask. Please. There are likely to be plenty of disabled and/or immune compromised people in attendance, it's for their health and safety (Also they have the added bonus of making you less identifiable by neo-nazis)

-Do not instigate violence. You absolutely have the right to defend yourself and other protesters, but KJK and her team are already trying to twist the narrative around what went down in Auckland today, and we need to make it incredibly difficult for them to do that here by standing it back and making it damn clear who started the fight if her supporters do start another one

-Bring water and snacks. Even if KJK runs away after 20 minutes again, her supporters will likely linger. You could be there for a long time.

-Wear sunscreen, even if it's overcast (that's general "living in Aotearoa" advice anyway tbh)

-Bring a raincoat. Would not advise an umbrella given that it's central Wellington near the harbour and there's currently a wind watch.

-If you, for any reason, feel the need to take photos or videos, do not include any protestors who have not consented to being in them- blur out their faces after filming if need be. Do not livestream yourself or other protestors, it puts people in danger.

-Have an escape plan, and make sure there is at least one person not going to the protest who knows you are going and can come and get you if something happens. Have something pinging your location privately to an emergency contact (I know Google maps on android allows this via a txt alert, unsure about Apple devices).

-Do not go to, or leave, the protest alone. If you must, meet up at a pre-event beforehand (vic uni are hosting a free sign making session that will conclude with attendees walking to the protest together), and when you leave, follow within another group of protestors until you reach a further away area where you can safely split off.

-Consider bringing a change of clothes to make yourself harder to identify post-protest. I know a lot of people will want to wear pride colours and whatnot, but this will make you stick out more once it's over, so if you're staying in town, you might need to cover up.

[my-castles-crumbling]

i’ve been debating sending you an ask about this, but i’ve read a lot of your anon answers recently and you’ve given some really great advice. 

(i’d like to just add here that ALL pronouns/neo-pronouns are completely and utterly valid and if anyone tells you otherwise, they can go fuck themselves. Also, i’ll be using he/him to refer to my partner as that’s currently the pronouns he’s asked me to use- this will become relevant). 

So I have a long term partner of seven years. last year he came to me and said he wanted to experiment with pronouns and self-expression. 

I was totally for it and together we found a hairdresser, and we made an effort to meet other trans people and I started using different pronouns for him and it pretty quickly went from she/her to they/them. 

And when he was using they/them, he was euphoric. I mean, i’ve known him a long time, and I know when he’s happy.

And he said that was for sure what he wanted.

And then he went to his parents house and told them about his new they/them pronouns. 

And they spent the whole time mocking him. Saying he should just fully transition and he’s being a wimp and they/them isn’t real- comparing it to identifying as random objects and animals (WHICH IS NOT TRUE, all pronouns, and neo-pronouns, are VALID!)

Anyway, he came home and didn’t wanna talk about it and two days later he asked me to use he/him pronouns.

It’s been nearly two months of this and I can tell it doesn’t fit. I’m using it now because it’s what he asked and I respect him, but I also know him, he isn’t euphoric and he doesn’t like the clothes he feels he has to wear.

If i’m being honest I always sort of noticed back when he was using she/her all those years. That something didn’t quite fit. And I had already been prepared to help him figured it out. Even though it didn’t actually click it in my head until he brought it up that first time. 

He liked his new name for they/them pronouns. He picked a “manly” one for he/him and he’s been asking me to refer to him with the they/them name as a nickname. Which I obviously have. 

I do think eventually this’ll run its course and he’ll go back to they/them. 

I know I don’t have the right to claim to know what’s going on in his mind, and I have supported him every step of the way, and he’s not sad now, he’s just not pleased with it. Like he is with they/them.

I can’t decide whether I should wait and see or not.  Because knowing his family and their love to get involved, it might take a while for him to pull away enough to realise this isn’t what he wants.

But his family is important to him and if I bring it up now he’ll probably just quote something his family said. And i’ll wait if that’s what he needs, of course I will, but this is hurting him- and I wish I could help. 

I bring up how they/them pronouns are valid all the time. And he’s never once thought against our friend who uses them. 

 But I personally have always blamed his family for it taking so long for him to ditch she/her, so I don’t know how long they’ll make he/him last.

And as I said, I do not care what he ends up choosing or how he presents himself as long as he’s happy. But I just don’t think this is him happy. (Also just to add, I am 100% sure he knows that I don’t mind whatever. Obviously anyone can love anyone who’s transitioning but I am pansexual and don’t give a shit how he presents himself cause he’s amazing and I love him for him. And I am sure he knows that).

Do you think I should tell him what i’ve been thinking? I’ll be careful not to phrase it in a selfish way as i’m aware this might make it seem like I think i know better than him or I want to rush him. But neither is true. 

I just want him to be happy. 

But I also know it’s not right to push him if he’s not ready yet. 

Thanks 😊 

Hi!!

This is definitely a tough question, because gender is such a personal topic, you know? But I do think you should be honest with your partner. I think it's just the way you're honest that matters.

The parts you said about noticing he's not as happy? That's what you should focus on. Because I feel like that comes off as concerned (which you are) and loving. Saying something like "Hey, I've noticed you've been different since you started using he/him pronouns. Do you agree? Why do you think that is?" I think that would really open the conversation to his feelings. Hopefully he'll be able to recognize your love for him and that you're coming from a place of concern. You could even say "I noticed when you started using they/them pronouns, you were so happy! Like X time, you were just so confident, you know?"

I don't think, though, that you should bring up his family. It sounds like he still has loyalty to them and bringing them up could cause more conflict than resolution. Same with saying something like "I think you'll end up going back to they/them." That makes it seem like you're dictating how he'll live. I know you're not, but it could feel that way.

But yeah, I do think you should bring it up. I think partners are the best people to try to point out to their S/Os that they need to put themselves and their needs first sometimes, and stop worrying about others.

I hope that helps! Feel free to message/update me if you want! I'd love to know how you both are doing!

Also, I'm naming you smiley anon because I'm trying to give every anon a separate tag and you put a smiley face at the end of your post.

[autisticgirliesbracket]

What makes Futaba Sakura from Persona 5 the autistic girlie ever of all time? Here's what the people have to say:

Futaba-related asks/reblogs: x This post will be updated after each round!

Image ID in alt text and under the readmore.

[Image ID. White slide with a screenshot of Futaba in the bottom left corner. She is surrounded by text boxes which read,

"She’s a hikkikomori and a hacker genius. She initially has bad social anxiety due to trauma and does not leave her room."

"She's just like me fr fr (im autistic girlie)"

"Generally described as being incredibly introverted and socially anxious, however having no problem opening up if the conversation is about something that interests her. She also has a deep interest in hacking and computers (if the protagonist claims to have built his own PC, she asks for the specific details on it, such as GPU, CPU, RAM, ect.) There are more details I feel are autistic but I'm not sure how to word them !!"

"Talks in Video Game references and wired expressions. At one point she leaves a conversation because an Anime she wanted to watch was on. Helped me come to terms with my own Autism. Covered her face with a weird mask and a towel (separate events) because she didn't want to show her face in Public. Gets pissed off that someone messes with the her Neo Featherman Figure (basically the Persona equivalent of Power Rangers or Super Sentai). Overall just a massive nerd."

"First of all: The way she sits . little gremlin girl. Second of all. Social awkwardness (she has SO MUCH). Third. She's 15 years old and an international hacker, i mean come on, you cant DO THAt unless youre at least a little autistic. 4. Constantly tries to wear things over her head to avoid being looked at. Five. Her room is the dirtiest place on the planet, filled with snacks and figurines etc. Sixth. Look come on please shes autistic"

"She has social anxiety, doesn't really understand social norms and relates a lot of her real life experiences to video games. She also hyperfixates on the things she's working on and says a lot of strange things without thinking about it."

"Futaba is intensely afraid of social interaction (living in her room for years, unable to exit the house without a meltdown), including her almost constantly wearing headphones (which, to be, read as sensory comfort items). She's only really comfortable around her close friends and family, around who she becomes a lot more excitable and energetic. She has deep and passionate interests in the things she loves, and tends to become hyper focused on whatever shes tasked herself with, even neglecting her own health during which. It's very easy to equate her love of video games to a special interest, as it influences the way she sees the world, to the point where she calls the main character her "key item", since he helps her agoraphobia, saying she needs to "level up" to improve her social skills. To top it all off, her voice actress, Erica Lindbeck, has stated that she played Futaba as if she was autistic."

"Girl had so much autism stored in her body."

"It is very obvious in nearly everything she does that they intended for her to be autistic. Literally just watch almost any cutscene with her and you'll see it (well. Ideally after her palace is taken care of since she's going through stuff and the 'tism is less obvious as a result)"

"she is soooo autism girlswag coded. When you first befriend her and hang out, the characters all have trouble sort of connecting with her, but once they realize they are being way too obnoxiously formal/normal they start asking her about stuff she is interested in, which then she talks very excitedly about. Im sort of passively watching someone play persona 5 so i might have gotten something wrong but eee she is so coded to me <3 and not in a bad way imo ik sometimes things can be TOO stereotypical but yknow yknow"

"Struggles with social interactions, special interest in computers and video games, her English voice actor intentionally played her with the idea that she's autistic."

"She's obsessed with and so good with computers she was a world reknowned hacker before the story even began, she struggles with interacting with people and was bullied through out her entire childhood for being "weird" and being able to memorize books and other things. Her outfits almost always include her wearing headphones (which i personally hc to be to reduce sounds) and there are scenes where she experiences sensory overload that turns into panic attacks. A lot of her character arc is about how after a personal tragedy she completely isolated herself from the outside world and now shes trying to ease back into interacting with people with the support of her family and new friends. When trying to connect with her, the quickest way they got her to relax and open up was when one character got her talking about an in universe sentai show she loves. Also her English voice actor said in interviews that she performed Futaba with her being autistic in mind because everything abt her character just reads as autistic and seeing someone struggle w the same issues I did was super important to me when i got into p5."

"Futaba is incredibly autistic-coded. She couldn’t leave her room or speak to strangers due to trauma, but she also was “quirky” before the trauma. She’s a computer genius and can get so obsessed with her work that she doesn’t hear or acknowledge other people. She wears headphones almost all the time and sits with her knees up (odd posture). Lastly, her mother was known to also be “odd” and was also very absorbed in her work. Autism is often inherited, so my personal read is that both of them are autistic. I’m missing lots of things I’m sure but she’s the best."

"All of her interests are special <3, major social anxiety, partially nonverbal (just like me fr), one of the only people she's constantly jokingly mean to is also very autistic coded which idk if that's a me experience but i can only be joke mean to other autistic people. allistics wouldn't understand. She cannot sit properly!!! Very important she has that autistic ball sitting position"

"She’s a genius hacker nerd who up until certain events in the game never left her room or her house due to trauma. She’s gets nervous and overwhelmed very easily once she starts expanding her comfort zone, but she doesn’t let that stop her. At certain points when she has to interact with people she isn’t comfortable with she puts on a disturbing doll head mask. At one point she has a miniature meltdown in the middle of a crowded store, because she tried pushing her boundaries a little too fast and got overwhelmed until the protagonist was able to find her. She loves anime and collects figurines and gets annoyed when her display of them is messed with. Her personality is socially awkward and kind of bratty when she’s comfortable and I don’t mean that in a negative way at all, she’s great!"

"very bad with people, obsessed with programing and Nerd Shit, i love her and she is very cool"

"she has a massive special interest in technology, her entire character arc is helping her learn to socialize, she sits like a GREMLIN"

"she is a epic hacker gamer girl so we are within the margins for trans and autism, she has a hard time with eye contact, she has intense social anxiety and wahooooooo she has the special interests !! on a side note she has chronic fatigue so damn just like me fr!! and shes so fun!! ack!!!" End ID.]

[danganronpadedication]

DAY 11: DANGANTOBER

Day 11: Favorite Character Design

Oh. My. God. I had the absolute HARDEST time picking who to write this post about. I went through four different drafts, first picking Izuru, then Gundham, then Kiibo, and now finally, Miu Iruma. For the most part, I think the character designs in Danganronpa are really hit or miss. You either get outfits that absolutely SLAY, or you get Kazuichi's highlighter jumpsuit. Miu is one of these character's whose outfits are runway worthy. But first, let's discuss who she is as a character. Miu is one of my favorite characters in V3. Usually, I don't really like the characters who make unnecessary sexual jokes and references, I find it very uncomfortable when done in excess. Obviously, there's exceptions to this, I can handle it when it's in confession form (SEND ME THIRST/GENERAL CONFESSIONS), or when I'm in-person. Anybody who knows me in real life, will know that my humor is very explicit in nature as well. But when I'm playing a game, I try to avoid anything like that. It's the same reason I'm not a big fan of Teruteru (even though if you're a fan of his, chances are you're pretty chill). But for some reason, despite being the BIGGEST offender of this, I find Miu to be a really fun character.

Miu reminds me of one of my friends IRL, and even that friend agrees with that notion. Miu is very funny, especially in her dynamics with Kokichi. Every time the two of them would interact during a trial, it got a very good laugh out of me. THEY WERE GOING FOR EACH OTHER'S THROATS (literally. Looking at you, chapter four).

She's actually smarter than a lot of people give her credit for. Her entire murder plot in chapter four was actually very well-thought out, from the minor tweaks in the code, to the fail safes she put throughout the game. If she had succeeded, there wouldn't really be any reason to suspect her, and she'd have had a monopoly on all information available in the Neo World Program.

She's also very useful post-mortem, with the Electro Hammers and that one EMP grenade being her creations. Kokichi even had her make a device that would allow him to fake control over the Exisals. Despite her death, she still plays a very big part in the final chapters of the game.

Even if you want to look at trials, she almost always guesses the correct killer. Two examples come to mind, mainly Kirumi and Korekiyo. With Kirumi, she states "I think the cleaning lady did it!" before the group even suspects Kirumi. With Korekiyo, she says "I think you killed them [Angie and Tenko] both!", while everyone was still operating on the idea of there being two killers. I think two blackeneds at once would've been very cool, but alas.

But, let me get back on track, and go back to talking about her design. Let's use this full-body sprite as a reference.

Like many V3 characters, Miu suffers from what I call "Dusty Palette". To me, the colors are too toned down from previous games, and it looks like everyone is covered in a layer of dust. Despite this though, Miu's color palette still manages to be pleasing to the eye. She's mainly pink, with hints of blue, yellow, white, and black. Initially, you wouldn't really think this color combination would work, but it does. The variation on shades creates contrast, the impression of gold detailing against black backgrounds and great shading. She gives like, pastel steampunk vibes. Like, you're LYING if you say Miu wouldn't rock this hat.

On the topic of accessories like this cool hat, Miu knows how to accessorize her outfit. She has on studded, fingerless gloves, goggles, a choker, necklaces resembling barbed wire, and harness straps with gold rings on it. A lot of what she wears has a sense of utility to it. The goggles are the most obvious ones, not only do they make for a good hair look, but she can easily pull them down to work on something. The gloves also fall in this theme, allowing for mobility and hand protection from machinery, while matching her style. The harness and straps are also utilitarian, holding up her socks and providing posture structure, but it's also meant to illicit more of a suggestive undertone. Anyone familiar with Korekiyo's favorite past-time will know what I'm talking about. This is very in-line with her character, wearing things that can be seen as risque, but aren't overtly so, because she's not actually experienced with that.

The lower half of her outfit, the awesome boots, knit or ribbed socks, the straps, and the flowy, pleated skirt all really go well together. The boots come off as a yassified version of Kiyotaka's boots, as well as Junko's. The colors match her palette as well, no mixing of metals here. I believe her boots are supposed to reminiscent of bondage boots, since that's quite literally an item you can give her in-game. The knit socks are giving Pinterest autumn girlie, it stands out a bit, but it's also kind of a statement. You just know those are warm and comfy. We've already discussed the straps, but me personally, I feel like those kinds of garters are really nice touches on outfits. Catch me on Dress To Impress putting those on EVERYTHING.

The upper half of her outfit consists of her jewelry, a chest and arm harness, the gloves, goggles, and pink sailor's uniform with a blue bow. The pink outfit set is so unique, especially when there's already a ton of other female characters in that same traditional uniform. The list is endless really, Sayaka, Toko, Sakura, Peko, Ibuki, Tenko, and Maki all sporting some variation of the outfit. But none of them have theirs in pink, and none of them have accessorized it like Miu has. Honestly, she's an icon, she's a legend, and she is the moment.

Miu is an amazing character, with even better fashion sense. While I can't CONFIDENTLY say I'd be her friend if she were real, I can definitely say she's provide joy when around her. She's smart, fashionable, and funny. I think she can be a bit awkward and insecure, but honestly, more reason to love her.

Just ignore the Love Suites, Love Across The Universe, and honestly, Free Time Event routes too. Jeez, Shuichi and Kiibo are victims.

And honorable mention goes to her admitting to giving Kiibo a camera function so he can take pictures of her...er...waste, and analyze it for her health. Once it was revealed that he was a camera for the entire game, basically streaming everything he sees, one must wonder how much the audience actually saw lmao. Tsumugi was sweating (truth) BULLETS after that reveal for sure.

[gh0stbled]

𝐈𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝… 【 fka twigs //. cis-female //. she, her 】 Welcome, RYN NOIR. You have successfully been loaded into The Hub. According to our records, you are THIRTY-SIX and have held citizenship for TWENTY-ONE YEARS in the barrier city, Neo California. Your key attributes have been identified as VERSATILE and INSOLENT. Please confirm your CHAOTIC NEUTRAL to proceed. Our data indicates that you are currently employed with THE JAZZ COMBO CABARET as HEAD ENTERTAINER //. MIXOLOGIST at ELYSIUM //. ASSOCIATE for the DIAMOND KINGS //. HONOVII of THE FORGOTTEN. For your safety and security, it is crucial that all background information is accurate. Further analysis of our archives highlights your alignment with at least moving like liquid light, shifting forms with every step, you dance a whispered spell that bends reality. Each motion transcends the flesh, as you become something more—unbound, ethereal, a force of nature woven through rhythm and grace; Draped in black latex, heels sharp as your gaze, a chip pulsing beneath your skin—you're no longer the child of the left behind, now a storm of steel and shadows and //. or CAT PEOPLE (PUTTING OUT FIRE) BY DAVID BOWIE. ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ Verification 100% complete. Please adhere to all local regulations and laws during your stay. We trust that your time here will be both fulfilling and safe. 】

CHAPTER I: See these eyes, so green? I can stare for a thousand years...

You’re a storm born from dust and decay, the aftermath of a world that crumbled before you were even a thought. A child of the end, two years after the fall—yet they call you Forgotten. Like a curse whispered, you wear it, let it slide off your skin. What’s left to care about when you’ve outlived the destruction of everything? Your people? They didn’t care, either. The dead world never broke them. They built something new from the bones of the old, survived when the moon came crashing down, wiped away the tears that stained their cheeks, and dug in deeper. Together, they made a tribe from the ruins, bound by hunger, loss, and the echoes of a life that no longer existed. Your mother told you once—you were a miracle. Born when the world was poison, when radiation from sunstones above scorched the earth and sickness took everything. She lost your father before you ever knew him, claimed by the same illness that plagued so many. The Underground wasn’t finished, wasn’t safe, but you lived. You thrived. You remember the dirt under your feet, the wild abandon of running through the tunnels with the other children. The lessons—they were always lessons. How to survive, how to grow food, how to speak to the plants and coax life from a dead earth. Food was scarce, but no one hoarded. Greed had ruined the world once. Your people wouldn’t let it happen again. They believed they were saved for a reason, spared from the wrath that fell on those who tried to play God. Your leaders taught that the world was now the way it was meant to be—humbled, stripped of the desires that had led to ruin. It was a harsh doctrine, but you soaked it in. You learned fast. By twelve, you were a hunter, eyes trained to read the skies for danger, muscles honed through brutal training. You moved through the world above, navigating the craters and scars of the earth with ease. You saw life there, twisted but persistent, and it stirred something in you—something that grew when you caught sight of the barrier, glowing in the distance. The world beyond called to you, even as your tribe preached caution, preached restraint. When your time came, you left without hesitation. Neo California awaited, and with it, a new kind of life. You didn’t look back. You promised you’d return. But deep down, you knew you wouldn’t. The city hit you like a slap to the face. Neon lights, steel towers, the hum of machines. It was a different kind of wild. Dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with nature. But you were trained for survival. Your first night, you nearly died, but you fought back, muscles and instinct saving you in the moment that counted. The city was sin. You knew that. But you couldn’t help but be drawn to it. The art, the beauty, the chaos—it wrapped around you, pulled you in deeper. You danced, as you had in the tunnels, but here your movements became something more. You bent your body into shapes that made people stare, made them applaud. You fed on their praise, found yourself craving it. Was it a sin to want more than survival? To feel joy in the excess, in the creation of something beautiful? You didn’t know. You didn’t care. But the city changed you. Hardened you. Made you forget. You swore you wouldn’t, but the years passed, and the memories of home grew distant. The city taught you its own lessons—ones about greed, about desire, about the selfishness that lingered in every dark corner. It was a different kind of danger, one you had to learn to navigate. You kept your distance, kept your heart locked away. But you grew sharp. The city made you hard, made you fierce. And still, somehow, you found a strange kind of peace in its chaos.

CHAPTER II: See these eyes, so red? Red like jungle burning bright...

You’ve grown accustomed to the sharp edges of this city—Neo California, a place where survival is a skill and trust is a luxury. Day after day, you witness the struggles of those who can’t defend themselves, swallowed by the dog-eat-dog world that thrives within the barrier. You’ve learned not to interfere, not to let the chaos pull you under. But sometimes, fate has other plans. It’s on a night like any other, the neon lights casting eerie shadows, that you're outnumbered by a so-called "super fan" and his gang of hungry wolves after a shift at the Jazz Combo Cabaret. You, who have always danced through danger, suddenly find yourself cornered. But salvation comes in an unexpected form—the leader of The Diamond Kings, a ghost among legends. They steps in, and just like that, the tide shifts. You’re grateful, but not overly so. Survival is a dance, after all, and you’ve danced alone for so long. Yet something changes that night. A bond begins to weave itself between you, subtle but undeniable. The meetings happen more often—an unspoken understanding. The physical and emotional lines blur, but you both know that in this city, time is as fleeting as safety. It’s a connection neither of you can afford to fully explore, but on the hardest nights, when the weight of the world presses in too tight, one of you always finds the other’s door. No words are needed. A quiet understanding passes between you, a respite from the city’s constant roar. Eventually, you make a decision—not fully entangled, but tied enough to feel the pull. You agree to become an associate, a silent observer. Report what you see, they tell you, and they’ll handle the rest. You don’t like getting involved, not in a way that binds you to more trouble than it’s worth. But there’s a flicker of something deeper, something buried beneath the years. The abandoned part of you, the child who once lived by a different code, listens and agrees. And so, you take them up on their offer.

CHAPTER III: See these tears, so blue? An ageless heart that can never mend...

The irony, sharp as a blade, cuts deep—being labeled Forgotten, only to forget your own people, your own values. You came to this city and it changed you, morphed you into exactly what they warned you about. Selfish. Hungry for something to fill the void inside, basking in fleeting pleasures that offer no peace. Sometimes, you look up at the artificial skies, glowing a false blue, and you remember the young woman you once were—sneaking out from the underground, just to catch a glimpse of the real sky, the imperfect one that stretched endlessly above. Togetherness. You think of that word often. Of how your people used to protect one another, sharing everything from food to warmth. But here? It feels distant, buried beneath layers of who you've become. Ryn Noir. It was supposed to be a stage name, just a mask to wear in this glittering chaos, but now it’s become your identity. The you who carries your true name—sacred and unspoken—feels like a shadow, lost to time. On stage, they see the allure, the enigma, the survivor. You are no longer the woman who once danced barefoot in the dirt, who prayed for the sky to hold out its mercy. Now, you're just another ghost of Neo California, someone who hides her heart behind a veil of mystery, because that’s what this place does—it pulls you into the grey, until you forget the colors that once defined you. As you stand behind the bar, listening to others spill their confessions, you realize everyone here battles their own demons. Each of them, like you, walks the fine line between right and wrong, good and evil. You wonder, in those moments of quiet reflection, if any of them remember where they came from. You think of your mother, of the faces that raised you, their love and teachings fading with time, and you can't help but think—perhaps the title Forgotten was always meant to be. Perhaps it was never just a cruel label, but a prophecy.

Still this pulsing night, A plague I call a heartbeat, Just be still with me, You wouldn't believe what I've been through...