#Rivals to Lovers / Friends to Lovers are superior TO ME

[airs-headspace]

Did ya'll know that I had a Dabi x Abiteth story that was the Enemies to Lovers trope but I hated it so much I changed it to Friends to Lovers to Friends to Strangers to Friends to Lovers?

Yeah.

(The worst part is, is that the story kind of doesn't WORK if it's that trope but I am TRYING LMAO)

[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,

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[cutehoons02]

˚🕯️Run,ma belle ˚🕯️

*pairing: Vampire Jungwon x human reader (rivals to lovers)

*tags: Blood,bites,fluffy, kiss, teasing, a little smut, horny vampire

* synopsis: The vampire leader may have as his soul mate any human being or something dark will be wedded among the enhypen group.

This first one-shot is formed by Jungwon, with the next chapters you will also discover the other members

* word count: 5k (Tell me if you like this kind of stories:)

—REBLOG if you enjoyed

© cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2024.

(English is not my native language)

It had been almost a year since one of the most prestigious mixed universities in the world had granted hospitality to live and study with vampires, wizards, elves, shape-shifters; but there were rules that anyone had to follow. Do not start fights inside the campus, respect any person especially human beings because they have no magical or superhuman power, and do not force love between non-human beings and human beings, You could understand very well if a couple was really in love especially if this was composed of a human being and a hybrid, especially between vampires/ humans. Y/n was accepted in that university because he was brilliant and his dream was to become a journalist on that campus, there were the best courses but also because fate wanted to meet and understand the leader of vampires so that you could fall in love with a human being, As had happened to his parents but with a better fate.

Y/n had been put in a room with a girl with human appearance and was super happy when he saw her for the first time because who entered that university had to pass tests not only related to the subject studied but also on magical creatures and especially you had to pass a defense exam and Y/n was astonished to pass all the phases, For his misfortune or good luck his roommate was a vampire and discovered it in a way as unpleasant but funny; wanted at all costs to try one of the lipsticks because she always had beautiful red lips but when she wore that lipstick she discovered that that lipstick was not artificially colored but with real blood that her roommate loved sucking from another vampire and who loved to show off to the whole campus.

Y/n was not very afraid of vampires because his roommate had tried in every way to get her used to that world and also make them know as many vampires as possible, including the group of his closest friends, were called "enhypen". After all, they had a kind of band and sometimes did concerts especially live on various social platforms and to his amazement were very famous. Still, people who didn’t live on campus thought they were just ordinary students doing funny ballet as a hobby or writing vampire-related pieces. Instead, they were real vampires and the less they were in contact with human people the better, because they seemed to all effects of simple humans but they were not at all, Each of them had special powers and insecurities that they tried not to show but when you think you are a superior creature to humans they could vent at any moment even if they managed to control their powers.

The enhypen was composed of 7 vampires all with different ages except the trio composed by Sunghoon, but the most powerful of all 7 was not the oldest in the group but one of the smallest members, although they were only a few years or months apart all respect Jugwon from the group members to the vampires on campus, all creatures and especially the few humans that populated the student campus. Jungwon loved to make everyone comfortable with his presence and his feline appearance especially the humans, not because he respected him but only for what had been suffered by his mother, She hated to have been conceived by a human being but at the same time, her mother had made her know the life of a human being with all the emotions that could be perceived and have, As a child, he loved being human but when he saw his mother in death he wondered why she had not chosen to turn into a vampire but maybe he knew that he could not love for hundreds of years that vampire who saved her hundreds of years ago, He loved his mother much more than his father but he was turned into a vampire because he wanted to live for hundreds of years but after that transformation, his heart no longer beat for anyone but maybe near there was a person who slowly was making sense Jungwon but he hated her with all his heart.

Y/n was a normal human girl who knew too much about magical creatures and her vampires and his bad luck as if someone on it was making him crazy if she found out without wanting to a lot of lessons that she had chosen to follow that year, his roommate and this thing did not play in his favor and every time he tried to ignore it if he found it in his field of vision, Jungwon did not like it because it was extremely intelligent and many times they also took the same score in tests, This made him angry. After all, he was seriously the most intelligent among all vampires and his power was to memorize everything in a few seconds but Y/ n sometimes passed it in tests.

"Well guys, i would like to propose a little collaboration between you, you know that the job of the journalist is a job where you are never alone so i would assign you a small project where you will work in pairs. The level of all of you is extremely high so there will be couples less capable than others but a couple that i am very curious to discover is the one formed by Jungwon and Y/n, you are the best students and i expect much from you two and in my opinion, you would be a perfect couple." You looked at Jungwon and he was giving a look of contempt to the professor and then to you, you never understood that boy, when he saw you always turned away or if you crossed him in the corridors changed ways, But in class, he loved to throw punches or beat you in tests; sometimes you wanted to be a vampire because Jungwon had the power to memorize everything instantly but other times it was nice to be a human and be able to beat him with your skills.

"Well guys, i would like to propose a little collaboration between you, you know that the job of a journalist is a job where you are never alone so i would assign you a small project where you will work in pairs. The level of all of you is extremely high so there will be couples less capable than others but a couple that i am very curious to discover is the one formed by Jungwon and Y/n, you are the best students and i expect much from you two and in my opinion, you would be a perfect couple." You looked at Jungwon and he was giving a look of contempt to the professor and then to you, you never understood that boy, when he saw you always turned away, or if you crossed him in the corridors changed the ways, but in class, he loved to throw punches or beat you in tests; sometimes you wanted to be a vampire because Jungwon had the power to memorize everything instantly but other times it was nice to be a human and be able to beat him with your skills. You went to Jungwon’s desk and watched him put his hand on his nose and make a disgusted face when he handed him the notebook with your ideas, you sniffed your wrists and maybe he did not like the scent of amber vanilla that you wore but your roommate had never bothered nor other vampires with whom you were in class. " Is there a problem with my perfume or is it just my presence that makes you feel like Yang Jungwon?" a small smile formed on his face and shivers of cold ran all over your body, you had always heard good things about Jungwon with humans but your sixth sense put you on alert when you were so close to him. " Don’t try to go over the line with me Y/n, i’ve never had you so close and i must be a little bit sensitive to your smell; things that i have already done with many human beings especially with girls" Roll your eyes because it looked so a puppy with those beautiful cat eyes but he had a cold heart and with you, he always behaved strangely " Don’t worry i don't want to know about your escapades with human beings, i came here to show you some topics that we could bring for the journalism project and i came up with an interesting topic for both you and me. How about talking about the fake news that we humans suffer in the vampire world and vice versa?" Jungwon put away all the material and surely had not heard anything you were saying because he was stuck chatting on the phone "Sure seems an interesting topic but now i must run away from you" You turned to watch him leave the room but after a few moments a cold presence was attached to you and shivers of cold poured into your body, Jungwon whispered in your ear and you would have been happier than ever without having heard those words come out of his mouth "But you want to be not me bitten is better if you change perfume because i don't like it, and if you are not your heart will beat no more not because you become a vampire but because i kill you. Write me on ig the day and at what time we have to be in the library, the more people there will be better it will be for you Y/n." You watched it disappear at the speed of light Jungwon and felt your heart beat wildly, surely telling you to make you scared; you had never heard of vampires that gnawed people, ok yes you had heard but in the term "bite" and that term was used mainly in sexual acts and Jungwon despised you so surely he wanted to scare you.

It had been a few days since you had seen Jungwon and your heart finally settled when you were near vampires, But every night nightmares of dark nightmares made their way into your mind and thoughts as if it were a bad joke of fate you always woke up sweaty and trembling at 3 or 3:30 at night, those hours were the periods of maximum paranormal activity and you always felt watched by someone but maybe they were just your paranoia. You had sent a message to Jungwon if he wanted to study with you for the project but obviously, he hadn’t answered, he had only visualized it and honestly, you were tired both physically and mentally of being behind that vampire, At the time you had sent by message you found yourself in the campus library; Soft lights ran through the entire corridor of the library and without wanting to find you studying in the less known area of the library but where you could study and feel at ease if you wanted to take small breaks.

A thud caught you by surprise and you watched Jungwon fall into the chair and put the computer in front of him, it was seriously beautiful had slightly wavy hair and some attached to his forehead, He wore a sweatshirt but how tight in the arms were it made his biceps stand out that every time you saw him they seemed more and more muscular and had a kind of makeup "Is this new to me the leader of the dark side of vampires, who wears eye-liner with a little bit of tinge to make his cat eyes stand out? Are you sure you’re a vampire and not a cat that turns to night?" a little laugh came out of his lips and you saw him protruding into the table until his face was a few centimeters from your "I like cats maybe even more than humans, they don’t need so much attention and love to be on their own exploring the world and surely have a smell better than your Y/n" You felt the tip of his nose attached to your neck and slightly felt your cheeks warm, he seriously looked like a cat sniffing you but didn’t seem so much to hate your smell as he always told you "Thank God you did not put that vanilla scent but the problem is that i really loathe your real smell as human 'Y/n" sunflower a moment to see it carefully sniff your neck and a slight redness formed in your cheeks, You pulled back your chair and looked at him badly "It doesn’t seem that much that you hate my neck especially the perfume that i emit, if it is more than five minutes that you smell me as if i was a feline looking for his lover" Jungwon when he heard your voice pulled back as if she was in trance from the smell you exhaled, would not confide it to anyone but they were all bullshit when he said that your smell was disgusting. Was literally the exact opposite, had already smelled you all over her body more than a year ago when she saw and heard for the first time in the classroom from study but put it away, but since you started having some lessons together he always became restless and only felt your smell in the classroom and because of that professor who had put you together to do that project he had to feel indifference and unpleasantness for you because no one had to understand that you had a strong power over him with your smell and did not dare to imagine how it was to have your blood between his lips and see you bent down and moan his name while he died on your neck with his vampire's teeth.

You watched for more than a minute Jungwon stared at you and with a snap in front of his eyes with your fingers he recovered from the trance he had while he sniffed you "Seriously Jungwon if you have a problem with me just tell me and we divide the tasks and before the presentation we start studying together if you can’t stand my presence or my smell so much, i never had any problems with other vampires and i also shared a course with your friend Hoon and he always behaved normally with me" Jungwon was seriously mortified by his behavior and couldn’t stand it either but the thing that made him most angry is hearing you talk about Sunghoon, because you called him Hoon and not Sunghoon? Hoon had always been attracted to vampires and never to humans. " There is no problem Y/n, just stay slightly further away as you are in class and everything will be fine, i want to work well on this project and get a good grade because i always dreamed of being a journalist and in this life, i would become one" seemed sincere for the first time and you put yourself in three chairs further away and started to study and program the project. After two hours you were seriously "in tune" If this could be called tuning be slightly apart you and Jungwon and text to understand your ideas even if you were in the same place but couldn’t speak out loud even if you were in a slightly isolated corner of the library. " Could you pass me that book on some fake news that came out about vampires in the human world, so i’ll do a little summary and then write the current ones especially those that came out with the advent of social media?" Jungwon unintentionally passed you before the book a sheet where he had written his ideas but to take it slightly graphed the tip of one finger and formed a slightly red patina, it had not even come out of the blood but i washed and licked immediately and your hand went immediately in the pocket of your sweatshirt. You didn’t have to rush to look at Jungwon but you saw him slightly whiter than usual and with dilated pupils "Run, ma belle otherwise, i can seriously bite your neck at this exact moment and suck your blood" For a few seconds you were full of fear but you had passed the physical test against vampires when they saw blood and ran right outside the library and you took refuge in the bar full of students where you could feel slightly safe when you saw your roommate With Sunghoon and Jake drink chocolate but you knew that in that cup there was also blood not entirely brown color had.

"Y/n you’ve already finished studying? It’s not like you to tell me that you missed your beloved favorite vampire!" you and T/n had a beautiful relationship even if you had discovered that she was a vampire you never made so many problems with her because she always respected you, made you feel comfortable while you were in the room together and ok sometimes left the envelopes of blood around the room but had never given you any problem.

"I wanted to drink a good chocolate with the cold that makes me out i seriously need but i must ask you urgently something about vampires" Sunghoon and Jake looked at you carefully and when they heard the question that you had made him a slight grin formed in his faces but a slight concern made its way into the minds of the vampires. " A vampire can always tolerate the smell of real blood? Especially if it does not come out of a wound, but why when Jungwon sees me always hurry to smell me, and when he smells my blood had light red eyes? Don’t tell me he wants to kill me i’m leaving this university, i hope to live for a while longer i don’t need to be bitten by a vampire who hates me" Sunghoon put a hand on your back to relax you and T/n took your hands slightly trembling to make you feel a little safe even if the contact between the cold of her hands and yours made your blood freeze but you could trust her.

"I think Jungwon is just stressed out and doesn’t drink his weekly blood Y/n, we live together but we are not attached to him 24h on 24h as once also because each of us has taken different paths of studies but i can assure you that it is due to the lack of blood in his body, calm that this evening we will make him drink and tomorrow he will be a "normal" person. "Let me just take away a curiosity, Jungwon has never tasted your real blood, Y/n?" You watched Jake and a laugh of terror came out from your lips "Why should Jungwon taste my blood, he despised me since the first day he saw me and i would not drink my blood from you vampires, especially in Jungwon". Jake nodded and looked at him with a worried face both Honn and T/l.

Jungwon was sitting contemplating the time lying in his bedroom bed, vampires hardly ever slept but he loved to take refuge in a safe place and that place was his room, He felt extremely weak but every time he tried to feel or drink blood from the bags that came into the blood bank each week, he had a rejection. He knew that he could not go on without drinking blood but since he had smelled for a few seconds the blood of Y/n had clicked in his head and thought only about her but especially about her smell. Heard the door of his room slamming and all 6 members invaded the view of his room and snorted "There is nothing to snort Jungwon, how long have you been drinking blood? You have dark circles in plain sight and this is a symptom of lack of blood in your body not to mention your lips are so cracked and almost purple. Please Jungwon you seriously need to drink blood and recover a little, it’s been more than a week that you’ve been locked in here and it’s not like you are among the sunniest people i know" Jay’s words warmed his heart even though that emotional woman had not felt it for a long time could sense the concern of Jay and the other members. " I seriously tried to drink a bag but i had a rejection for that blood since i felt for some moments the smell of the Y/n's blood i could not remove it from my head and i did not even taste it, Don’t know what’s happening to me i’m the leader of vampires and i’m getting weak for a stupid human..." Sunoo sat down next to Jungwon and hugged him, they had a platonic relationship of friendship and they had always helped each other in any dark moment and it hurt him to see a person with whom he had spent whole years being the light and the positive part of the group. " Maybe we could convince her to come and visit you with the excuse that you have to finish that journalism project and be able to reveal them seriously because you were so behaving with her" A sweet smile came out of Sunoo’s lips and a strong sense of confusion crept into Jungwon’s body "Oh my god how many times i have to tell you is not the soul mate, it’s just a human with a type of blood extremely different from others that has a strong power on my psyche, i bet my life that if it was away from me i would not have this kind of problem" a laugh came out of the smallest "God how do you make it so naive Jungwon, you are the leader of the vampires but you should be fucking happy to have found your soul mate instead you always act like an asshole with her, Wake up for a moment because if some other vampire comes to discover it they will want to steal you 100%. Yesterday i even told you that she had asked me about you and was seriously worried about you, and what she should be concerned about is her being a human without any kind of power and who could be hurt instantly" Niki was always quiet enough because he was the smallest of the group and had never responded badly to other members not to mention Jungwon who respected him very much. " Well at this point i should go to write to Y/n to come to our house otherwise a mini fight between vampires could break out!". Jake smiled at everyone and came out to call Y/n but he did not know that the human being who so detested his leader had done a lot of research and had discovered thanks to T/l that 90% was his supposed soul mate but there was that 10% that could have been chosen by the world of vampires to sacrifice his body and soul to the vampire leader who had little chance of survival.

Y/n was extremely terrified by Jake’s call to go home and study but knew that sooner or later he would have to face Jungwon both because the deadline for the project was expiring also because she wanted to know if she was her soul mate would have wanted to kill her, He did not trust any of the 7 vampires but Jake and Hoon seemed to have taken in sympathy even Niki the smallest of the group so he made strength and ran and played at the house of the 7 members.

Jake sat you down in the large room they shared in the dorm and a little black cat came up to them to sniff it and pursed "Well you’re one of the few people that Sinky at first gets along with, Niki is seriously right at this point!" You were crouching to poach the cat and 12 pairs of eyes looked at you through the large sitting room "Whose cat is this?" It was seriously beautiful and you thought it was Jay because he was always represented by a black cat "It was supposed to be a gift for me, but Sinky decided on his own who was his master or favorite member and that was the leader" Jay looked at you smiling and luckily that fear you had before entering was slowly diminishing until you saw Jungwon coming down the stairs and watching you carefully as you were caressing his precious cat. Jungwon had felt your presence already a few blocks from their home and seriously had to understand if you were really for him his soul mate or just a fixation on your blood, He had serious anxiety about seeing you and asking you to do something extremely intimate with him but only in that world could he understand if you were really his soul mate or maybe he already knew....

"Y/n, follow me that we must go ahead with the project" You looked at all the other members and nodded smiling "Isn’t it better to study in the living room or the kitchen?" Heeseung looked at Jungwon and made a sign to come down and make you feel comfortable, and Jungwon brought his notes down. "How are you?" You looked at Jungwon slightly with obvious dark circles, lips as dry and the knuckles of the hands slightly violet, he said to you "Could be better" and you were seriously worried about him, At first you couldn’t stand him but after discovering all the vampire nonsense, the tragic story between his mom and dad and his transformation lasted much longer than the others because the most powerful of vampires had decided that he should be the leader, Small feelings made their way into you. " Is there any way or anything i could do to make you feel better?" Jungwon’s gaze looked at you intensely and you felt yourself being observed by the other members, He shook his head and went on with the project but you knew there was only one way if he wanted to find out if you were seriously his soul mate so you went to sit next to Jungwon and you took his hand. It made you shiver because he seemed frozen in touch with you "What are you doing Y/n?" You began to draw little circles in his big, venous hands and saw a slight gleam in his eyes "I know, i’ll sound like a nosy lunatic but i’ve done some research on you and your behavior with me is that of a vampire in a state of uncertainty and no tolerance to any kind of person or being alive, the cause of this state at 95% is that of falling in love with a being not of the same living being and for your bad luck you are the leader of vampires so you have a lot of advantages but at the same time disadvantages because the first vampire of the pack who falls in love will suffer most of all and you are suffering right now Jungwon. A little whistle came out of Hoon’s lips "Fuck finally a person who tells you the truth in the face, i’m so happy that your soul mate is Y/n and not some slutty vampire trying to get into your pants only because you’re the most powerful vampire" A slight redness formed in your face and you looked softly at Jungwon. "There is only one way to know if you are exactly my soul mate Y/n, but i bet you will run away from me when you see my true nature!" You looked up and looked at Jungwon. "When have i ever backed away in my college years? No time and you know it too, so let’s end this forever Jungwon. Do what you have to do to see if i’m your soul mate but we all know that i am, who is it that spends the hours of the night watching me sleep from my dorm window or who is it that makes you go crazy? Me, Jungwon no other vampire or human". "Well if you are so curious to see my real nature follow me but do not try to run away because i could find you anywhere in the world" You nodded with a smirk and he took you to his room, your heart was beating crazy did you love challenges but maybe this was too much for you?

You sat in his bed and watched him close the Jungwon door to his room, I smiled a little bit and expected the worst but he took your hand and showed you around his room showing a picture of his mom "I would never hurt you Y/n, my mom made me discover the world of human beings before my transformation and I feel how your heart is beating quickly or how fear is making you anxious but I would never have thought to have to deal with another human. After his death, I did not want to have anything to do with the world of humans but then you came and I don’t know what’s happening to me..." Did not make him finish the sentence that you kissed him, you were seriously wanting to kiss him and feel the taste of his lips or hear his groans coming out of his lips and after a few seconds the kiss became more and more violent and desperate that you felt his canines become longer than necessary and his tongue licked you the lower lip and then slowly cognize for a second its canine to make you slightly out of blood, You felt his lips sucking your lower lip and a small moan came out of his lips, you strapped your arms to the bottom of his head slightly pulled his hair, did not hurt that little cut in your lip but excited you even more. "Fuck Y/n, why is it so good?" you felt yourself leaning on a huge pile of pillows under you and saw the eyes of Jungwon chocolate-colored become darker with a slight shade of red, the canines slightly more pointed than usual, His hair was unkempt, making him look even younger than he should be and you felt his cold body holding up without any force in yours. You began to kiss him again and slowly you started to caress under the light knitting of his muscles pronounced after the immense training and a slight moan came out of your lips, You looked at him, and with a nod he permitted you to take off the sweater, and surprised you the biceps more and more accentuated of the feline vampire and you began to kiss his neck until big hands took away the sweatshirt that you wore and remained only in the bra. Jungwon seriously wanted you to feel good so that you were no longer the one who kissed his neck but it was him and he felt how fast your blood pumped your heart and he was extremely proud that he was the one who made you feel this way and no other individual, had begun to give you little kisses until his true nature settled in him and little sweet bites made their way from your neck up to the protrusion of your firm breast, he seriously wanted to see you for what you were, Beautiful in her mind but she didn’t want to rush things with you. little sweet licks made their way where he had bitten you with his teeth and for him you were seriously a spectacle, you had a breathless breath, your wavy hair was spread in his cushions, Your smell invaded his whole room and your lips were slightly fat because of the small cut he had made with his canines.

"Ma belle, you can’t spare me from this moment, we’ll be forever you and me" was seriously true that fate had brought you together but there was something dark out there that was looking at you and contemplating against you.

*Taglist: @arclviie strxwbloody bamguetismee steddie-steddie jungwoosbaey

[fanaticsnail]

Kid-Pirates Masterlist

Navigation Masterlist Here

Eustass Kid:

Shameless (NSFW Series 3/3)

You have a type, one that has been forcefully revealed by your crewmen's incessant nagging. After being ordered to return to your workshop to receive further instruction, you become fully aware of why you have been hidden away from meeting with the captain of the Victoria Punk. He was exactly your type.

"Good Boy" (one-shot)

Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Restrained (NSFW one-shot)

Eustass Kid didn't know what possessed him to allow his lover to restrain him against his Captains' chair. But yet, here he is: stuck and loving it.

Cellist Kid (NSFW drabble)

Your academic rival and you do not get along. You find his boorish intensity revolting, and he finds your attitude standoffish. As your conductor decides to pair you together to practice, tempers flare and passion ignites.

Longing (drabble)

Eustass Kid doesn't know how to behave around you, especially now that he's developed feelings for you.

You're So Much More To Me (NSFW Pollen One-Shot)

Desperate to impress the Straw-Hat botanist as you travel with his unruly bunch of pirates, he goes against your warning and immediately goes into uncharted territory and does the unthinkable.

Told You You'd Like It (NSFW One-Shot)

You suggested something new in the bedroom, and your boyfriend immediately shot it down. You thought that's where the conversation ended, it had now flung from your thoughts never to be thought of by you again. Unbeknownst to you, Eustass Kid was consumed by the thought so much he almost thought on nothing else.

Baby (NSFW One-Shot)

Massacre Soldier Killer:

Eustass Kid wants to treat you like he does with all of his other partners. He wants to top you, degrade you, pound into you like a wild animal. But he can't. Not when you give him praise like that. He's far too in love with the pretty words fleeing from your lips to try.

Whatever you wanted (NSFW One-Shot)

For a single night, Eustass Kid gave you permission to do whatever you wanted to him. He was not expecting the direction you took at, nor how needy and desperate to please you in you pleasing him he became. Trust and love between you, you got to have whatever you wanted.

Will You Let Me? (NSFW Pollen!one-shot)

Your crew was docked at a port, exploring a new land while you requested to remain behind. Enjoying being without the unruly bunch, your momentary calm was disrupted by the staggering step of your superior. Coughs, grunts and stuttering over his words: your concern grew more severe as you offered to help him through it.

Killer Watchdog (One-Shot)

Studying at sea was never an easy feat, especially while travelling under the captainship and serving alongside the unruly crew sailing on the Victoria Punk. As you complete your intensive over Den-Den, you notice the silence and choose to investigate the cause.

Killer Needs You Too (One-Shot)

Killer longs for you as much as you yearn for him.

Heat:

They'll Love You (One-Shot)

Heat is nervous about meeting your friends and fearing their judgement in your choice of lover. You reassure him they'll love you as much as you do.

Vulnerability (NSFW One-Shot)

Two best friends in the quiet of the night, Heat expresses his emotional and intimate encounter with you to Wire. Wire helps his friend understand his experience, and coaches him through his vulnerability while listening to the waves crashing against the Victoria Punk. (No explicit smut, just suggestive)

Art Practice:

Sketch, pencil

Side Profile, digital

Wire:

Stolen Moment (One-Shot)

Too much time had passed between the rare moments you and your partner found for one another. You both decide to rectify that by doing something as simple as sharing the same Crowsnest and painting your lover's fingernails.

Misc and Multiples:

Kiss their cheek (Drabble one-shot)

It was a simple reaction, an impulse you felt organic and out of your control. Their cheek was right there, and the swell in your chest and spike of adrenaline prompted you to lunge forward and capture their cheek beneath your lips. How do they react to such a soft touch? Do they shy away, or do they respond in kind? Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Law, Kid

How They Kiss (drabble)

Four different kisses with all of your favourites. Where would you place them in these categories?

You Shot a Baby? Sweet Baby Boy (Dialogue + Drabble)

Benn Beckman shot Eustass Kid's arm off. You are not happy about it.

Dreaming of You (NSFW Drabble)

They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Kid, Killer, Heat

Competency, Stupidity, Duality (one-shot)

They can't help what attracted them to you. No matter what you did, they simply couldn't get enough of you. Their emotions finally catch up with them, and they confess their adoration for you. Kid, Zoro, Killer.

Acid, Salt, Fat and Heat (NSFW One-Shot)

Your captain has engaged with a petulant challenge that included refusing to make port until both Kid and Law did first. Feeling pent up at sea, you set your sights on the blonde first mate to aid you in finding relief. The catch? He won't unless his captain does too. Kid x afab!reader x Killer

Laundromat (NSFW One-Shot)

You're folding clothes in the laundromat and a needy captain Kid decides to enjoy you on the benchtop. Kid x afab!reader x Killer

Wearing Their Shirts (Mini-Fic)

What wearing Kid and Killer's shirts is like.

It won't fit (NSFW One-Shot)

The four commanders of the Victoria Punk were large in size, in every way. Eyes finally catching what goes on below their hemlines, you're brought to terms with the fact that it would be difficult to fit. Kid, Killer, Heat, Wire

Hey Doc (Series)

You are the medical practitioner aboard the Victoria Punk. You are overworked, exhausted, underpaid, but so loved and appreciated. The crew seeks you out for everything that ails them. The Straw-Hats adore you, the Heart-Pirates pity you, your own crew fears you sometimes.

[pageyaya]

✷ catch my heart

trope : academic rivals into lovers

synopsis : even since you can remember, you’ve been the best student in your class, nicknamed ‘little genius’ by your friends, and you’re used to receiving praise from all your teachers.

but everything changes the day a certain boy, named haechan, enters your class. your position as the top student is suddenly challenged. a toxic rivalry develops between the two of you, quickly evolving beyond just grades. it’s no longer about academic results, but about ego : who will manage to outshine the other and prove their superiority throughout the year?

notes : hi this is my first fic and english isn’t my first language but i hope you enjoy my work !!

taglist : open

status : ongoing

yn’s group | haechan’s group

intro

stupid haechan [e1]

don’t talk to me [e2]

serve that brat [e3]

strawberries [e4]

✷ replies, likes and reblogs are all appreciated!!

tags :

[lanniisters]

On Friends-To-Lovers:

I get so annoyed when people throw around the “healthy platonic relationships are so important” thing because YES THEY ARE but you don’t actually think that.

What you think is that, in this particular case, I want these two characters to stay platonic so that I can ship my ship and, simultaneously, feel morally superior. The reality is that there are multiple non-canon ships for whom this applies… but one of them happens to be queer.

Woah hold those trigger fingers!!

While this train of logic does apply to people calling queer coded relationships “besties” or, heaven forbid, “brothers”, it also applies to straight (or straight-presenting) relationships.

You do not need to write two characters as romantic interests (or *groan* enemies) for the story to be romantic. It is OKAY for those characters to form a deep, romantic and emotional bond after years of building trust and loyalty.

As a person who identifies as demisexual, I find the erasure of friends-to-lovers extremely harmful and inherently invalidating. Especially now that we are seeing screenwriters and authors being critical of the trope.

Please, sit me down and explain to me in excruciating details why these two characters - who have seen each other through their darkest periods, who have been each other’s personal cheerleaders, who have loved each other unconditionally - are not good as lovers?

“But can’t two characters just be friends anymore?!”

They certainly can and good for you for believing that characters should show genuine love for one another without having any romantic feelings. But that doesn’t mean the latter can’t exist.

Listen, I never go in expecting my ship to happen and I never expect everyone to agree with it but it drives me up the wall to be invalidated purely because friendship and romantic love can’t coexist in your world. If you want to believe that platonic soulmates should be a thing (AND THEY SHOULD), you also need to understand that you cannot use that term to invalidate another’s ship when the foundations of your own (usually rival) ship are the exact same as mine.

[bonbonbee]

Hello!

Can I request a list of prompts based on the trope of an office romance? Also if possible can you add the trope of rivals to lovers, that is if you are ok with it. 😊

sure ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა !!

office rivals to lovers

prompt list by @bonbonbee

they're your superior and have been assigned to manage you. "you're a mess." "correction. i'm your mess."

"here's the report you wanted." flip, flip "2 pages? that's cute cupcake, it's also not going to make the cut."

"i got zero sleep last night completing my paperwork. i feel like crap." "you look like it, too." they did not think that, in fact, they wish they were with you in bed that morning to see your adorable morning face.

pov: you had to stay at the office working overtime on a company project. they see you at your desk on their way out, your eyelids drooping. sigh "i know we're not friends or anything, but we are coworkers so let me help."

gulp "hey, uhm, you want coffee or something? they fixed the coffee machine yesterday." "you want to get me coffee?" i want you. "correct."

"you are possibly the most vexing individual i've ever met. and mind you i know a lot of people! and don't even get me started on the way you speak."

pov: you're telling your work-best friend about your newest talking stage until they hear. "this isn't show and tell, miss." "you're just jealous." "maybe i am." "what was that?" "go back to your work, (last/name).

"shoot! i missed the bus!", you yell out. "stranded, ms. (l/n)?" you sigh, it just had to be them, right? turning around you spoke, "no." obviously you were stuck, for god's sake, it was raining in a big city! "need a ride then?" they smirked, and you caught onto the obvious innuendo. the car ride was silent, but those gossiping hens at the office definitely were not.

you were currently on cloud 9, floating in the clouds. oh, how you wished you could nap like this for the rest of eternity. unfortunately, you were getting woken up by some honeyed voice you must say. who was that angelic being? "ms. (l/n)?" they tapped your shoulder. "ms. (l/n), please wake up." oh.

(meeting) "i'm pretty sure the presentation is on the screen not on ms. (l/n)'s face." "apologies, sir," they uttered.

"hey, what time do you get off?" "6 PM." "what a coincidence, me too!" "what exactly are you trying to pull here, (last name)?"

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Categorical (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Aemond needs to blow off some steam, so you offer to verbally spar with him. 

Warnings: Smut. Oral sex (F receiving) Friends/ Academic rivals to lovers. Torturing of philosophers.

A/N: Man, translating modern texts into High Valyrian is a pain. I did my best. Also look! My first Aemond smut. For nerdy explanations, go beneath the dots. 

“No.” You laugh, placing your cup down. “You will not convince me of Archmaester Rene's superiority to Septon Immanuel.”

It's very late on the library. You are sitting cross-legged on top of the table, Aemond properly sat on a chair. If a Maester were to see you, or god forbid, a Septa, you would be scolded until their face turned red. 

You shouldn't be here. Not in the library or alone with him, either. A loud feast is going on outside, to celebrate Princess Rhaenyra and her sons. Neither of you wanted to stay for longer than was strictly required. 

It had been your idea. Noticing how pent-up the Prince was becoming, you had offered to come here in the hopes of letting him blow off some steam in a constructive way. If you had been taught how to handle a sword, you would have invited him to the courtyard. But you had been born a woman near Oldtown. Words were your preferred weapons. 

“Rene shaped his era!” Aemond protests, brandishing the Second Meditation in his hand. “Without him, Immanuel would be nothing.” 

You scoff. Here he goes again. One would think, for such a devout man, he would be kinder to the Septon’s views on philosophy.

“That's a bit much. Did Prince Aegon spike your drink?” 

Aemond and you… It was a weird thing. As the daughter of a member of the small council, you had been brought to King’s Landing to foster alongside Princess Helaena. But as a girl from The Reach, you had little interest in embroidery and chasing bugs. No, you were more interested in learning politics and new languages. It meant that you were closer to her brother than her. 

At first, both of you had been hesitant to break out of your roles, but soon, having someone who was as passionate as you were about learning turned seductive. Sometimes, too seductive. 

“Perhaps you are right.” The Prince laughs, and you let your expression turn hopeful for a second. Had you finally defeated Aemond in an argument? You could actually dance from happiness because the man was as stubborn as they came.  "Only on being a bit much. Because while that might have been exaggerated, you know I am right about any Maester being superior to the Septons in terms of exploration of philosophical themes. Septons stray into ethics too much, and do not solve the truly important questions.” 

“And what is exactly wrong with ethics?” You frown. You have dedicated yourself to the pursuits of understanding how a rational human being behaves in society. It's interesting, as an overthinker. Obsessing over the existence of a universal way of doing the right thing occupies most of your days. 

How different would life be, if there was a universal guideline to follow and have things always turn right? How easier, if you knew how to get the best outcome, each time?

“Nothing, I guess. If you like ethics, I am willing to indulge you. But Immanuel?”  Aemond shakes his head, sliding the book to a corner of the table. It’s opened in the middle of one of the passages, one you know well.

One you hate well, too. A thing that thinks. A thing that doubts. Cogito ergo sum. You were not sold on the idea of reality being the product of a particularly malicious demon, but it was on-brand for Aemond. To you, instead, it ended up reading more like the ramblings of a madman. 

“What’s wrong with him? His work is revolutionary!” And it is true. You are not exaggerating. No one else has done such a thorough job of explaining how one should behave, and how society and laws play into our choices. 

“Who likes him, anyway? He is a nightmare.” Aemond shakes his head. 

“To your logic self, perhaps. I find him very inspiring.” You try to keep a straight face as you say it, but your lips are twitching into a smile. 

You are morally obligated to defend Immanuel's honor. He is the basis of your whole studies. But you have to admit, he is not the easiest read. Or the most interesting. The Archmaester is much more compelling in that aspect, but you would rather die than prove Aemond right. 

“You are lying through your teeth right now. What would the Septon think of that?” 

“Oh, shut up, you. It still doesn't prove your point.”  And honestly, it’s a tactic so low, it impresses you. Moral attacks? Really? You grin at Aemond and he grins back, knowing you caught him red-handed. He shrugs. 

“Do you want me to prove my point?” His hand taps on your knee.  The Prince is not meant to touch you like this, no matter how innocent. You are not supposed to be this close to a man who is not part of your family or your betrothed. Yet, he never seems to care. 

You and Aemond touch often. Always innocent touches, of course. A hand that lingers too long when passing over a quill. Lips that drink from the same cup, from the exact place your lips have left a mark. You circle each other, you chase each other. 

You marvel each time he does, at the wonderful reactions he manages to prompts from you. Heart skipping a beat, palms getting sweaty, pupils dilating. You are in love. So in love it hurts, and it tears at you, but also feels like floating and sitting on the softest clouds. 

It’s exquisite, the pain of loving. Overwhelming. Like standing in the freezing rain. Makes you feel so alive but so utterly lonely, knowing the object of your affections will never see you as you want him too. 

You are his friend. The one he can count on to discuss the latest book or the intricacies of a long forgotten society. Never a woman. 

How you long for him to look your way, just once. For his eye to linger on your lips a little too long. His hands to stray away from proper touches, towards intimate caresses. 

And it hurts, when it doesn’t happen. You clear your throat, vanish those thoughts, and plaster a smile on your face. It’s easy, pulling witty remarks out of the tip of your tongue. It always is, with him. The debate manages to be lively and profound, minds bouncing from topic to topic until you exhaust yourselves. You make each other better, sharper, smarter. 

"Of course, Prince of Arguing.” You tease, eyes crinkling at the corners. “No rhetoric. Or fallacies. Tu quoque.” 

“I don't need them. I can do it with pure empirical evidence.” Aemond taunts right back, leaning forward on his chair. It sounds strange. More charged than usual. The tension between the two of you building, rising. Suddenly, it’s not a conversation about Septon Immanuel and Archmaester Rene. 

“Oh?” 

It’s all the permission he requires. Aemond gets up, abruptly. The chair falls back with a loud clatter. Neither of you pay it any attention. 

“Look me in the eye.” He says, stepping closer. Your breath hitches at the proximity, but you decide there is nothing wrong with indulging him. The library is empty and no one will look for either of you. “Iksā iā run bona iotāpagon.” 

You arch an eyebrow. Of course, he picks the one language you have yet to be able to master. 

“Valyrian. How fancy.” 

Aemond ignores you. You have no choice but to look up at him, with the way he is looming over you. This close, you can see his pupils are blown, and he looks slightly nervous. Does he think you are a dragon, perhaps, that he is speaking High Valyrian in such a soothing tone? You are about to make that joke, but it dies in your throat when he gets even closer, nose nearly bumping against yours. 

"Bona umbagon, bona vestras kessa, bona vestras daor.” He mutters, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You tilt your head up, like a flower moving to follow her sun. Whatever he is saying, you don’t know, but you recognize the words for yes and no. You do not dare speak, afraid of breaking whatever is finally building up between the two of you. 

So many months spent playing cat and mouse, so many months making him give chase. Queen Alicent gushing about how good you would look together, how much she wants another daughter. Nights spent in the library, arguing just for the sake of it. 

It doesn’t feel like a game, anymore. 

Aemond leans forward, pupil dilated and dark. “Bona gīmissiks byka.” His nose bumps against yours. Your pulse accelerates. To jump or not to jump? His eye goes from yours, to your lips. You watch the slight smug quirk of that smart mouth you love so. It’s then when you get a hold of yourself. You love him too much to lose him to this if it were to go wrong. That line you don’t dare cross. You try to get off the table you are sitting on. 

Aemond grabs your arm, not forcefully, but enough to hold you in place. You could get out of it if you wanted to. 

“Bona daor gīmissiks olvie.” He whispers, carefully cupping your cheek in his hand. Helpless against him, you nuzzle his hand. Fervently, as if promising something, anything, he keeps going. “Bona ēza jorrāelagon, vēdros, ebas, daoriot ebas.” 

Jorrāelagon. Love. A confession. For your ears only, in a way that fits both of you. High Valyrian has always been the language of the arts, after all.

Unable to resist him any longer, you kiss him. Forgetting all about how you should behave, how the library is empty and that if you two get caught, your reputation would be ended. You just couldn’t wait anymore.  

You would know his voice among a thousand voices. That's why you know, even when it is a whisper, that Aemond is still speaking into the kiss, smugly. 

“Bona ēza ēdrugon, bona ēza dijāves.” 

You kiss him harder. He is quoting something against your lips, against your skin, as he presses lush and desperate kisses to the skin of your jaw. As you suck a bruise in the hollow of his throat. 

He pushes you gently to lay on the table, giving you a wicked look. When you nod, Aemond hikes up your skirts, exposing your legs and lower stomach. 

“And to think we could have been doing this for so long.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your belly button, smiling as you squirm desperately. 

“Quoting things in High Valyrian?” You ask, unable to not tease him. 

“That, too.” He laughs. “If you knew it, you would have figured out it was Rene's Second Meditation.” 

You laugh, soon melting into a moan when he starts nibbling at your thighs. 

“I’m not sold on his superiority, yet.”

“Trust me, my Lady.” Aemond grins. “When I am finished, you will be singing his praises.” 

“Aemond…” You say, suddenly apprehensive. Despite trusting him, you are a smart and educated woman. You know that even a hint of doubt could ruin your reputation. And while you would gladly give your maidenhead to him, you do not feel comfortable enough to enjoy it. “I… We are not married.” 

“I know.” He says, taking your hand in his and squeezing it. “I’m not that kind of man.” 

“What are you doing, then?” You push yourself up on your elbows, to be able to look at him. Aemond remains crouched between your legs, busy with sucking a bruise on the juncture between thigh and hip. 

“Finally, a subject where I am more knowledgeable than you.”  The Prince smirks, before licking over your hole. You bite your lower lip to keep quiet, trying to stay still on the table. 

“My Prince…” You whine. It’s a strange feeling, but a pleasurable one. His mouth is scorching hot over your sex, and his tongue is doing things that you are pretty sure are considered a sin by the Faith of the Seven. A shame you were never very religious. 

You cannot think straight, with the way his tongue is lazily playing with your pearl. You try to be polite about it, but the moans leave your mouth unabashedly. If it were not for the feast happening outside, the whole Red Keep would hear your moans. You hope the music is enough to drown it. For your sake and his. 

“Ah, weren’t you the most eloquent Lady in The Reach? Finish your sentence.” Aemond mocks, pulling back. It doesn’t make any sense to you, your line of thought long-lost to the pleasure he is delivering you. Unashamedly, you try to grind your hips against his face, but Aemond just tuts. “Use your words.” His voice is filled with the same smugness as when he beats Ser Criston on the training yard, or manages to make you change your mind on a subject. 

The respite lets you think. Without him assaulting your senses, you try to recall what it was that you two were discussing. Knowledge. Aemond had been saying he had more knowledge than you about something, and his phrasing had been ambiguous. You had been about to ask him what he meant. 

“I meant to…” He swirls his tongue around your pearl, making you cut off your question, again. He keeps at it, making your voice turn shaky. You cannot think straight, or speak without moaning. Not with the way his tongue presses at your entrance, not with how he keeps torturing your poor pearl. The bud throbs and feels swollen, and you can tell he is taking advantage of it. “Ask. I was going to… Prince Aemond!” 

“What?” Aemond sits back on his heels, perching his chin on your thigh. Caressly, he takes off the eye patch. You respectfully don’t look.  You know it’s not because he trusts you, or because he wants you to see it. It’s because he is about to dive right in between your thighs and with how wet you are, the garment would get soaked. And it would show. You know your body well enough to know that your juices would stain the dark leather. 

Eventually, the night will come to an end and you two would have to return to your separate chambers through hallways full of people. If the Prince were to walk back with a stained eye patch, tongues would talk. More so, when your absence was noted. Half the Red Keep knows already how much time you spend together. He would not risk the stain on your reputation or on his. If it were found out you two were partaken in such deviant acts, both of you would be shunned. 

So, keeping your eyes firmly on the ceiling to not embarrass him or force him to share something he is not ready for yet, you speak. 

“I can’t speak with your mouth doing… Doing… That!” 

Your cheeks burn. You are unsure how to name the act, and if perhaps you got over your shyness, you would ask him. 

Aemond's response is clipped. Irritated. 

“You should have thought about it before denying us for so long. Keep arguing. Or I’ll stop.”  And it’s not your fault, really. It’s not like you were doing it on purpose. On the contrary. So focused on your feelings of admiration towards the Prince, you had been blind to his. You had never thought your love was reciprocated, and so were set on stomping on it until nothing but friendship and camaraderie remained. 

Never would you have thought him angry at your constant shying away. The thought makes butterflies surge in your stomach. The fact that Aemond wants you so much that he is angry at the thought of not having you sooner has you weak at the knees. 

Aemond takes your pearl between his lips, once more. He is careful, so the pleasure only edges to uncomfortable. You whine. He pulls away. You scream out on betrayal, before remembering exactly what Aemond asked you to. 

“I meant… Ask if you meant you knew…” And back at it, he goes, this time rewarding you by licking a path from your hole towards your pearl. “Ah! More than me in…” 

Too lost in your pleasure, you grab a handful of his hair, bucking your hips on his face. At this angle, Aemond’s nose rubs you just right, and you find yourself chasing the friction. 

“Go on. I quite enjoy where this is heading.” He snickers, the vibrations doing wonders to make you lose your line of thought even more. But the threat of him stopping the wonderful, wonderful things he is doing is enough for you to rack your brain for anything to say. 

“Knew more about matters of the flesh or if you meant… Aemond, Aemond, stop it! I can’t think.” You beg, on the verge of tears. Just as you are speaking, he starts sucking hard on your pearl. You have never, in your life, been as frustrated. It’s impossible to do his bidding when he is torturing you. Aemond has set you up for an impossible task. You would rather have the feeling stop than have to endure it a bit longer. Your body trembles, shaking and writing on the table. “High Valyrian!” 

“Both. A few times.” Aemond answers, and you mumble back something incoherent. You are near something, a cusp of pleasure so intense you fear you might shatter from the force of it. You scream, shrill and high, feeling your body absolutely gush at his ministrations. 

As you pant down from your high, Aemond tenderly fixes your skirts. He smooths your dress down, making sure there are no creases or suspicious stains. Completely at ease, as if he was not making you reach a peak that had your legs shaking mere moments ago, Aemond puts back on his eye patch. 

You remain laying on the table, flushed and sweaty from the exertion. He gives you a mischievous look, and leans down to kiss you. 

“Will you teach me, my Prince?” You ask, when you two part. It comes out more eager than you would have wanted, but you don’t care. You are not afraid anymore of showing how head over heels you are for him. And in the typical fashion of Targaryen men, Aemond seems to delight in the attention. 

“Trust me. I intend to.” He pulls you to a sitting position. Still shaky, you cling to him. Aemond keeps grooming you, fixing your hair and tugging at your sleeves. You rest your head against his breastbone. 

“Long engagement?” 

“Short. I would marry you tomorrow, were I able to.” He answers, as he fixes a button that had come undone in all your trashing. Then, he grabs the Second Meditation and presses it into your hand. “So?” 

“Yes. You win. Archmaester Rene is superior to Septon Immanuel.” 

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Credits: 

The ideas that Aemond and the reader are discussing belong, of course, to Kant and Descartes. The Second Meditation of Descartes as a prelude to sex was my sexual awakening, during a philosophy class at like… I don’t know. Sixteen? There is this show our philosophy teacher showed us, where a philosophy teacher is the main character.  Merlí. In the first episode, the Philosophy teacher seduces the English teacher by reciting the Second Meditation in the original French.  As the years passed, and I too entered my love and hate philosophy phase, I never lost that memory.  I really wanted to write something with it, and my Aemond’s fics tend to be more artsy. 

Also, forgive me for using philosophy from the 1500 - 1600 AC. I just can’t find it in myself to make the debate on how many angels can dance on a pinhead fascinating (That one would be period, although not Westeros, accurate) Hm. I should have gone for Aquino, maybe. 

[psychooomind]

Flickering Lights

Michael Gavey x singer!reader

Summary: Michael and Violet come from completely different worlds, but when their paths cross at university, an unexpected connection sparks between them. As their relationship deepens, they must navigate secrets, misunderstandings, and their own fears. Can their love overcome the odds, or will the time put them apart?

A multi-entry, slow-burn, friends to lovers fic.

You can also read it at AO3 here.

Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Chapter 2: Crushed

Michael’s watch read two in the afternoon as he walked, book in hand, his brow furrowed in thought. He had attended all of his classes for the semester, and despite his impeccable academic record, his experience at Oxford had not started as he had imagined. While the coursework was demanding, what truly unsettled him was the presence of classmates who were almost as capable as he was. Perhaps they couldn’t solve problems mentally with his precision, but their competence was enough to make Michael feel genuinely challenged. It was disconcerting not to be the sole intellectual standout in his classes.

In Logic, a subject Michael had eagerly anticipated, he met Joshua Dankson, who completed Professor Sanders’ logic problem a mere eighteen minutes after him. This prompted Joshua to approach Michael, seeing him as a potential rival. However, after a brief conversation, Michael realised Joshua was more interested in socialising than intellectual pursuits; his first question was whether Michael was attending the weekend’s party. Slightly disappointed, Michael pressed on, asking more about logic, only for Joshua to reveal that he simply enjoyed puzzles and problems but lacked any greater ambition. The one silver lining was Joshua’s invitation for Michael to join the Chess Club.

Then there was Oliver Quick, the boy from the first day’s dinner. He was studying computer science and preferred solitary study sessions in the library.

But among his classmates, one figure stood out as the source of Michael’s deepest irritation: Victor Bryon. Michael found Victor’s combination of effortless charm and academic negligence infuriating, particularly because it never seemed to hinder his performance. Over the past month, Michael had yet to see Victor open a single book, yet he consistently achieved good results with minimal effort. Since their vending machine encounter, Michael had come to realise that Victor had a knack for turning casual comments into cutting jokes, almost always at someone else’s expense.

In Advanced Calculus, another class they shared, Michael began to suspect that Victor had singled him out as a target for mockery. One incident cemented this belief. One day, Michael arrived at the lecture hall carrying a precarious stack of supplementary reading books that left him unable to open the door. Victor, instead of helping, swung the door open dramatically only to let it slam shut in Michael’s face. It was Oliver who eventually came to his aid, holding the door open with a smirk.

“He’s such an idiot,” Oliver muttered.

Michael nodded, but internally, he was already scheming how to outperform Victor and expose his carefree façade. It might make him an even bigger target, but Michael was determined to protect his position as the top student.

“Hey, Gavey,” Victor called after class, using a nickname that grated on Michael’s nerves. “Fancy doing the next calculus assignment together? Word is, you’ve got a brilliant brain for this stuff.”

Michael frowned. “Why would you want to work with me?”

“You’re the only one who’s up to the task, mate,” Victor replied with an easy grin.

Although hesitant, Michael agreed—not because he trusted Victor, but because he wanted to prove himself superior on his own terms. Yet things did not go as planned. During one of their study sessions in the library, Victor took a book that didn’t belong to him—a prized text Michael had saved for months to buy. Victor assured him he would return it, insisting it was just a reference for their project.

Michael was left wondering whether he had made a mistake in agreeing to the partnership, but his competitive spirit wouldn’t allow him to back down.

Several days passed, and Victor seemed to be avoiding Michael, to the point where he suspected it was deliberate. However, that didn’t stop Michael from catching him one evening outside the campus with his friends.

"Victor, do you have my book?" he asked cordially.

"Oh, mate," Victor replied with a mocking smile. "I completely forgot to bring it. My bad."

Michael nodded curtly and stormed off, visibly annoyed. A few days later, he confronted Victor again, only to hear Felix Catton, the boy with the eyebrow piercing, burst into laughter. Once more, Victor apologised.

"It’s my book, Bryon. Return it," Michael said, clearly irritated.

"It’s just a book, mate," Victor teased. "Are you going to throw a tantrum over it, like you did at the welcome dinner?"

Oliver, who had been watching the exchange, placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder, steering him away before things escalated into a fight.

"I’ve heard he doesn’t live on campus," Oliver said, attempting to distract him. "His dad bought him a flat on Marston Street. I can ask for the address so you can confront him privately."

The next day, Oliver sat beside Michael in the library and discreetly handed him a slip of paper. Michael smiled faintly. That afternoon, resolute, he made his way to the flat on Marston Street and knocked on the door. As he gathered all his courage to demand his Advanced Calculus book back, a red-haired young woman answered. Her loose hair framed her pale, freckled face, and she greeted him with a gentle smile.

Michael suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

The girl wore a denim jumpsuit adorned with shiny appliqués on the lapels. Her smile was kind, almost disarming.

"Can I help you?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Michael, who was often awkward in social situations, froze for a moment.

"Ah... um... Is Victor here? I think he has one of my books," he stammered.

"Victor isn’t in right now," she replied, her chocolate-brown eyes holding his gaze. "But if you want, I can look for it. Do you remember what it looks like?"

Michael muttered a description, and she disappeared briefly into the flat, closing the door behind her. When she returned, she held out his book.

"Is this it?" she asked.

"Yes, that’s the one," he said, adjusting his hair awkwardly. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome," she said with a broad smile, dimples appearing on her cheeks. "I’m Violet, by the way."

"Michael," he blurted out. "Michael Gavey."

"Well, Michael, I doubt Victor even realises he took your book. He’s a bit of a mess," she added with a light laugh.

Michael smiled timidly and nodded, though his mind raced with thoughts. He couldn’t help but wonder if Violet was Victor’s girlfriend. How could she not be? She was stunning, with her reddish waves falling carelessly over her face, and her denim jumpsuit seemed to fit her curves perfectly.

He simply smiled, turned, and walked away. On his way back to his dorm, Michael couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her image was seared into his mind: her flowing red hair, the freckles that mapped her delicate features, and her easygoing demeanour.

Yet the encounter also left him with an odd feeling. For the first time in weeks, someone had treated him with casual kindness, free from the subtle judgement he usually sensed from others. He was surprised to realise that, although Violet had looked him directly in the eye, there had been no hint of the usual scrutiny in her gaze.

That night, as he struggled to focus on his notes, Michael found it impossible to think of anything but the red-haired girl and her charming smile. He realised not only that he would never be able to adopt Victor’s carefree attitude but also that he could never hope to be with someone like Violet.

Meanwhile, at the Bryon flat, Violet sat on the edge of her bed, scribbling in a notebook she’d been trying to fill for weeks with more than clumsy phrases. It was a letter to her father, yet another attempt to bridge a connection she felt had been lost. Their relationship had always been strained, especially after her mother’s death.

Frederick Bryon longed for a daughter who didn’t exist: a poised young woman he could show off for her impeccable behaviour or her studies in architecture or medicine. But he’d had to settle for Violet. She knew he didn’t hate her, but she also felt the weight of his disappointment, his unspoken wish that she would be something... more.

Meanwhile, the apartment remained in complete chaos. Empty beer bottles and piles of dirty laundry left scattered around by Victor only added to the mess. Violet had argued with him that very morning, but, as usual, her complaints were brushed off. Frustrated, she scooped up the clothes strewn across the floor, balled them up, and tossed them onto Victor’s unmade bed. If her brother thought she was there to clean up after him, he was sorely mistaken. She’d had enough, especially after their earlier spat. Victor had grumbled about her returning the book—his book—to Michael, claiming he’d taken it to push the boy to the brink of madness. Annoyed, Violet had called him out, reminding him they were no longer teenagers and that it was high time he grew up.

Unbeknownst to Michael, Violet lived in a completely different world from Victor. Her passion for music consumed most of her time, between rehearsing with her band and preparing for gigs at Barry’s Pub. While the tension at home was constant, music provided her with a much-needed escape. For Michael, the idea of someone like Violet existing in the same orbit as Victor was baffling. That night, without realising it, he had crossed paths with someone who would change the way he viewed life at Oxford, though he was far from knowing it.

But Michael couldn’t get her out of his head. Her fiery red hair, her bright eyes that held none of the judgment he was so used to, the way her smile seemed to light up the air around her—she had settled into his mind and refused to leave. Every time he tried to focus on his studies, her image would slip in, disrupting his thoughts. He could practically hear her voice, soft yet vibrant, every time he replayed their brief exchange.

The next day, Michael returned to class with renewed determination. Not only did he need to outperform Victor academically, but he also felt the urge to prove himself socially. Yet, no matter how much he tried to concentrate, Violet kept intruding. Her carefree smile, her freckles, the effortless way she’d made him feel seen for a moment—it all clung to him like an unresolved equation. He was certain she wasn’t a student at Christian Church, but that only deepened the mystery.

Days after meeting Violet at the Bryons’ apartment, Michael slipped back into his routine. Between classes, group project deadlines, and his silent competition with Victor, he barely had time to think about anything else. Or so he told himself. Every time his mind wandered, it landed squarely on her. What was she doing at that very moment? Was she thinking about him, even fleetingly? The thought made his chest tighten, though he quickly dismissed it. Why would someone like Violet give him a second thought?

One afternoon, Oliver strolled up with his usual carefree gait, an old, crumpled flyer in hand.

“Look at this,” he said, tossing it onto the table where Michael was poring over his calculus notes.

Michael smoothed out the paper and immediately noticed the name Wrecked Shiny Girls. What caught his attention even more was the surname Bryon, listed among five others as members of the band.

“Where did you find this?” Michael asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Found it in the hallway near the Student Hall,” Oliver replied with a smirk. “It was crumpled up, probably thrown away by Victor. Do you know anyone in the band?”

“No, not at all,” Michael lied.

Could it be that the red-haired girl wasn’t Victor’s girlfriend but a relative? They both had the same fiery hair and, now that he thought about it, similar features. But Violet was so distinct, so vivid in his mind, that he couldn’t imagine her as just anyone. Her laughter, her smile, the way she’d tilted her head slightly when she spoke—it all felt like a puzzle he was desperate to solve.

As Oliver continued talking, Michael’s pulse quickened. He had to know for sure. Was Violet the Bryon in the band? Was she a cousin? A sister? His heart raced at the possibility. He had already made up his mind: he would attend the concert. Not because he cared about the music, but because he couldn’t shake the feeling that Violet was more than just a fleeting encounter. She was becoming an obsession.

Barry’s Pub was packed. The small stage barely stood out amidst the dim lighting and towering amplifiers. The crowd, mostly students, chatted animatedly as they waited for the show to begin. Michael and Oliver were near the bar, watching the patrons with curiosity.

“Have you listened to any of their songs? I’ve heard them all,” Michael admitted to his friend.

Oliver glanced around and shook his head. “Do you think we’re the only ones from our classes here? This place seems... a bit rough.”

Michael shrugged, keeping his focus on the stage.

The chatter hushed as the five band members took the stage. Each wore outfits that reflected a mix of carefree styles: leather jackets, worn boots, and tight trousers adorned with shiny embellishments. Michael immediately recognised Violet. Her fiery red hair fell in loose waves, and a denim jumpsuit stood out beneath her jacket. Though he knew she was in the band, seeing her confidently take the microphone caught him off guard.

The music began, intense and charged with energy. Violet didn’t just sing—she embodied every word, every note. Her voice filled the pub, her presence commanding the space. Michael couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“She’s pretty good,” Oliver remarked, raising his voice to be heard over the music.

Michael didn’t respond. He was too mesmerised, watching Violet interact seamlessly with her bandmates and the audience. There was something in her demeanour—a blend of raw passion and subtle vulnerability—that held him captive.

When the final song ended, the lights dimmed, and applause erupted throughout the pub. Violet stepped off the stage with the other members, stopping to chat with some of the attendees. Michael’s gaze followed her intently, and when their eyes met, she waved at him with a bright smile before walking over.

“Hi!” Violet greeted him warmly, clearly recognising him. “You’re the guy with the lost book, right?”

Michael nodded, feeling a surge of nervousness as he looked down.

“Yeah, I came to see the gig,” he said. “I didn’t know you were in the band. I’ve been following you for a while—” he lied, “—and it was amazing!”

“Oh, thanks!” she replied, her smile widening. “I’ve been with the band for two years. How long have you been listening to our songs?”

“Uh, a few months now. Do you write the songs yourselves?”

“Most of them, yeah. We all collaborate on the lyrics and the music.”

Oliver, who had been silent up to this point, finally intervened.

“Excuse me, I’m Oliver,” he introduced himself. “Bryon? Any relation to Frederick and Victor Bryon?”

Violet’s smile faltered slightly, but she composed herself quickly.

“Yes… they’re my father and my twin brother,” she replied, studying them with curiosity. “How do you know them?”

Oliver shrugged.

“We study with him. He’s… interesting.”

Michael studied Violet, trying to figure out if she shared anything more than the surname with Victor. Her kindness seemed to contrast sharply with her brother’s arrogance and carefree attitude.

Violet chuckled softly, easing the tension.

“‘Interesting’ is one way to put it. He’s a difficult guy to get along with,” she said, glancing at Michael. “Michael can vouch for that.”

“Why do you say that?” Michael asked.

“Well… Victor tends to…” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “He can be a bit of an idiot, always provoking people. If you ever, I mean, you guys ever, end up in that situation, I’d just let it go.”

Michael nodded. Violet knew her brother well. He seized the moment to study her, his eyes tracing the subtle tension in her expression. A tiny vein popped on her forehead, and Michael found it endearing.

He was about to say something, anything, to keep the conversation going, but they were interrupted by a girl with spiky hair and way too much hair gel.

“Hey, guys!” she greeted. “By any chance, do you know someone who could take pictures for our flyers?”

“Yes!” Michael exclaimed, causing everyone to look at him. “I… I have a camera, and experience… in parties.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. Violet, on the other hand, smiled widely. The spiky-haired girl asked,

“Are you a photographer?”

“Not professionally, but I think I could make it work,” Michael assured her.

“That could be useful. Do you have any samples of your work?” she asked.

Michael hesitated, and the punk girl looked at him, confused. Violet quickly intervened.

“Michael mentioned it, actually,” she invented smoothly. “He told me when we first met, Walda.” The girl shot her a look. “You know, with exams and everything, I completely forgot.”

Michael and Oliver exchanged puzzled glances. Oliver knew Michael didn’t own a camera, nor was he a photographer. He was certain of it. He watched Michael’s dreamy expression, as if Violet had just said the most incredible thing in the world.

“Alright,” Walda said, clapping Michael on the back. “You’re hired, then, mate.” She left without another word.

Violet burst out laughing.

“Oh, I hope you can get us out of this mess now, Gavey,” she said, smiling at him.

“I’m sure your friend will be disappointed,” he teased.

“We’ll manage,” Violet reassured him. “We can meet up to work on the framing for the photos and all that. Give me your number, and we’ll sort it out.”

Michael nodded, feeling his nervousness bubbling up as she handed him her Sony Ericsson. With eager hands, he gave her his Nokia, and they exchanged numbers.

That night, Michael returned to his room with his head spinning. Oliver had congratulated him as if they had arranged a date. But for Michael, it felt more like he had just been able to socialise like a functional person. He wouldn’t lie—there was something about Violet that intrigued him deeply. But the fact that she was Victor’s sister complicated things.

Michael was completely fascinated by Violet. Since their first encounter, there had been something about her that left him speechless. There was a quality in her demeanor that captivated him, and though he tried to stay calm, he couldn't stop thinking about her. He would love to see her again, get to know her better. But he convinced himself that it would be best to remain just friends, or at least that was what he told himself. He didn’t want anything complicated, not now, especially with the shadow of Victor looming over him.

The idea of keeping things purely friendly seemed like the most sensible option. After all, how likely was it that she saw anything more in him? They had just met, and though she seemed interested, the connection he felt was more of a fleeting attraction, a passing fancy. In his mind, he repeated to himself that there was nothing he could offer her beyond friendship.

However, as he replayed what had happened that night, something didn’t quite add up. The way Violet had acted with him, her ease in making up that story about the camera, the way she had been so confident and relaxed around him—it left him confused. Michael couldn’t understand why she had done all that. Why invent such a detailed story just to make him look good?

He couldn’t help but feel flattered, but at the same time, a growing doubt began to take root. What if it had all been a game? Another prank? Maybe she just wanted to make him feel important, as if he were playing a role in a story he didn’t fully understand.

Michael kept replaying every word, every gesture from Violet in his mind, unable to find a clear answer. Deep down, something told him there was more to it, something he just couldn’t grasp. In a way, Violet had been more direct with him than with anyone else, but he didn’t realise it. He didn’t understand that Violet had been flirting with him. He had been so absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn’t recognised the signs.

He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what had happened. There was something in the way she looked at him, in her laughter, in the way she had made excuses to stay close. Maybe it wasn’t just friendliness. Maybe Violet, without even realising it, had been showing him something more. And that left him completely puzzled.

How could he have missed it? But the truth was, he had no idea. Maybe he was too shy, or perhaps he had just thought it was all a dream. Maybe, in the end, it would be best to stick with what had happened: a friendship, perhaps an opportunity to learn more about her. He wasn’t ready to believe that someone like Violet, so confident and charming, could actually be flirting with him.

[bookwyrminspiration]

Thoughts on Sophie’s love interests/their relation to her?

Okay I'm gonna try and cover a breadth, but let me know if I missed one! (this got long)

Sokeefe: Spoke about it more here, general idea is I think Keefe's become stagnant and is constantly inhibiting the plot/Sophie to an aggravating degree. He's unhealthily obsessed with her + praises her, yet is constantly meddling/steamrolling in a way I don't enjoy. I think he needs a life outside her and to actually experience consequences--Sophie should hate him for a while. As a treat. Sokeefe's execution was too quick for my tastes, but is still salvageable.

Sophitz: I'm biased; I love Fitz. He's shown remorse and growth, he spent his childhood looking for her while she spent hers wishing for someone like her. Sophie, without knowing or trying, completely annihilated all the pedestals Fitz stood on. Manifested younger, transmits farther, blocks better, etc. She's unwillingly everything he wanted to be. There's this tension, an undertone of subconscious jealousy to it all. Then the matchmaking makes it painfully clear what different worlds they come from, but it's gloriously frustrating because it didn't have to end like that, yet it was always going to, you know? They could've talked, they could've waited--but they were giddy and rushed in too soon (they never would've waited) and now they're further apart than ever. Really really hoping to see them re-find each other and establish something true and strong, non-romantically

Sodex: Sophie feels weird about it because they're technically cousins, so we're not starting strong (if Sophie didn't care, neither would I, but that's a separate thing). Furthermore, Dex fell hard for the first person in the world to not be a bigoted ass to him. Very low bar, very sweet and innocent, but entirely doomed to fail from day one. The crush was one-sided and built on nothing, the friendship forming later based on actual interactions and getting to know each other, which I think is a more compelling and sensible direction for the two of them. Dex is quick, stubborn, petty, and loyal. Big fan of what they've got now.

Sophiana: The pettiness of the first book, the push and shove. The nudge from Alden, the betrayal. Sophie consumed Biana's family's existence before she could walk, Biana always left out wanting until suddenly she was There. This thing she'd been excluded from made flesh to hate. A ratty, weird antithesis to Biana's princess reputation. The bridging of that gap and the sincerity they develop is beautiful. The ways Sophie opens Biana's eyes and Biana fights in turn to be there for her. Hoping we get more from them in-depth in the future

Solinh: Linh's resilient, caring, has spent a lifetime being an unwanted danger afraid of herself and hasn't had the time to find herself outside of survival. Sophie revolutionized Linh's world, enabled her to find the space she needed to grow and breathe easier. She's scary powerful, determined, and joyful--all of which Sophie would benefit from in turn. They could go on a journey of self-discovery and building confidence together, though right now their one-on-one scenes are a little lacking

Sopharella: Lot of layers to these two. One of her first friends, but despite that was one of the last Sophie actually got to know. Marella wanted to join and blamed Sophie for leaving her, decided it wasn't for her, then was dragged into it all anyway. They've never been super close, but are still tied together in ways they don't understand (Caprise's relationship to the Neverseen). Neither of them want to be in the situation they're in, and yet. They're in a sort of truce, but it doesn't seem either of them are doing anything to move beyond that

Hekster: Ah, rivals to lovers. Stina's unstable superiority, distancing herself from them in hopes no one remembers hey, weren't your parents...? The immaturity of "you laughed at me. you didn't even know me but you took his side" (paraphrased, Lodestar). The "We good, Foster?" Lot of hostility, but a lot of growth on Stina's part in this one (said because like 90% of Sophie's hostility is in reaction). Solid up until Stellarlune. However, I find the imbalance of that hostility to detract from the rivalry's appeal; if it was genuinely mutual instead of Stina being a bully and Sophie defending herself, I'd be more into it.

Sotam: Adore Tam. The defiance, the stubbornness, the way he'd rather fuck off and yet he's become part of this group almost against his will. The quiet burden he's given himself his whole life, the fear and responsibility. The way he'd choose Linh over the world. He's indebted to Sophie for saving Linh, for getting them out and getting her to an environment where she could connect and build her confidence. He's saved her in turn. They've got a sort of silently orbiting each other thing going on. I personally find their backgrounds (as Others), defiance, and humor to best serve a strong platonic bond.

Lopster: I don't even need to explain myself 100/10 no notes

[sokokoko]

When I say enemies to lovers, enemies means they both fight back against each other. Actively opposing one another. Actively fighting back, actively competing, one upping each other, swiping resources from under each other's noses, sabotaging one another, hitting back just as hard as the one who struck first. Tit for tat. An eye for an eye.

I like the phrase enemies to lovers more than rivals to lovers because rivals doesn't feel as serious to me. To be someone's enemy is a deeper thing imo.

To me, enemies to lovers is the one I hate who hates me just as much becomes bearable somehow. Hate eventually turns to love (there's usually a stage that looks somewhat like friendship in there).

Me liking enemies to lovers is about the transition from hate to love and exploring the thin line and how they slip over the line. And I like when they retain some of that competitive fire in the established relationship but there are ways in which the edges have softened.

Abuser x abused ≠ Enemies to lovers

That's something else entirely and doesn't sound fun. That sounds awful to try and portray as an actual romantic dynamic and not a commentary against/cautionary tale. This would hurt me to read.

Annoyance x the annoyed ≠ Enemies to lovers

Asshole x the one the asshole keeps bothering ≠ Enemies to lovers

Would potentially piss me off depending on how much the asshole doesn't respect the autonomy of the one they're pestering

Bully x bullied ≠ Enemies to lovers.

Not in the slightest. That is something else. These are all something else. I don't think bully x victim can be wholesome at all unless there's a helluva lot of repentance. Silent Voice style where the bully is filled with self loathing over their actions and works to better themselves. Even then, the weight of the bully's actions are still a raw wound.

Random rant I wanted to get out because I have a WIP where I want to tackle the enemies to lovers dynamic, but in the way that I consider to be enemies to lovers. The comments I see saying enemies to lovers is abusive annoy me. I feel like an enemy is respected, in some sense. If only for the danger that they pose or acknowledgement of their power and prowess.

Optimus Prime is Megatron's enemy, humans and the other Autobots are mere bugs and annoyances to him. An enemy must be on equal footing.

No power dynamics!!

Still exploring and working out kinks, but in my story, they're both college students in space and our earthling protag Killian accidentally insults Halite, an alien from a warrior/battle culture. She is the one to strike first and consider them enemies but Killian fights back. Enemies soften into rivals, tentative acknowledgment of their similarities, you're somewhat bearable to be around, to I feel like you understand me. They both have battlelust in their veins.

Edit: I should add my distinction between enemies and rivals.

A rival wants to be better than you. Is constantly trying to get ahead.

An enemy wants to be the agent of your downfall.

I think, in this way, an enemy can either be more sinister or serious than a rival would. Rivalry is fuelled by superiority/inferiority complexes/wanting to be better, the best.

Enemy(ship? hood?) Being enemies is about the emotion hatred. Hatred fuelled perhaps by the threat they pose or by one's enemy as a person. You and your enemy are like oil and water, unable to be mixed because you are so different.

But then you find out you're both liquids. You can both be poured. Both of you can be used to cook. Friends? Lovers?

And hatred has a lot of similarities to love. To the point where it would be called adjacent, while love's opposite is indifference. Because someone indifferent feels absolutely nothing for you, while love and hate are intense, passionate emotions.

[atopvisenyashill]

my asoiaf crack ships

Jon/Sam/Gilly i KNOW the forced baby switching makes this uncomfortable i don't care they have my heart!!

Jon/Aegon Vi listen, beyond my jokey "jon finally finds a hot single twink to smush only to find out they're brothers" take, i think given all of jon's bastard baby brother issues re: robb colliding with general targ gender & sexuality fuckery AND aegon's short fuse + raised by a proud gay dad + is dornish and they're less uptight about that shit has the ability to give me a homoerotic toxic spiral to rival visaemon and throbb and i will hold onto this until i'm dead and buried

Jon/Arianne i just want my faves to smush + "we were both in love with the same man" bicon duos are my favorites

Aegon IlI/Gaemon Palehair i know there's a wonky age difference but it's bc george is a coward and he knew if they were the same age they would have kissed on the mouth

Willas/Ellaria they bond over both being lovers of Oberyn and missing him (Willas/Oberyn isn't a crackship they're friends in canon i’m justified in having a crackship offshoot for a non canon ship alright!!!)

Baela/Cregan my opinion on the pact of ice and fire is that instead of being this vague thing where Jace's theoretical first born daughter goes North, Baela has to marry Cregan even tho the regents hate the idea of this and she winds up defying them, which gets her cut out of politics, the succession, and generally pariah-ed in the South. Then she never has a living child with Cregan after all that. It just makes way more sense to me that Cregan would want a Targ now and not in the theoretical future (plus you still have the pact thing re: the main series bc they never have a living child, and Jace doesn't actually get to crown Sara)

Black Aly/Alyn Oakenfist they both love a war crime, they're opposites aesthetically so it would look hot, plus I think "i left my culture, my religion, and my home to be with you only for you to constantly cheat on me including with your incredibly young Valyrian relative" is less aggravating and more tragic if its Black Aly instead of Baela "is vastly superior to everyone yet is constantly cheated on by her shit ass, mid lovers" Targaryen

Grey Worm/Jeyne Poole i had a dream where Grey Worm and a large band of unsullied decided to stay in the North after the war for the dawn and they fell in love due to shared history of extreme trauma and Sansa gave Jeyne away and helped Grey Worm design a coat of arms for the marriage cloak and now I’m attached to this idea.

[lov-eable]

TELL ME  ֗ ˖ ࣪ ᩠ ༉‧₊˚ ✿ #00

━━ a filmmaker decides to follow and document the lives of the worst and best students at your school for a month, unfortunately, those students are you and chishiya, the most annoying guy on earth.

masterlist ◌*ꕤ

word count ✦ 541

A/N: wasn’t supposed to publish this today but i got excited wjsnjesjwbj, all the enemies to lovers fics with chishiya are about academic rivals and we girlies who dont do well in school need rep!! im sorry about any grammar mistakes <3

03/24/17 15:27, previous records

Everyone gathered around except for two students who were quite sure about their grades, you and Chishiya. An outsider would expect both of you to have a streak of perfect scores by how calmly you were waiting, and that might have been Chishiya’s case but not yours, especially not yours. You just knew your rank was the worst, your name plastered in the last place. You were nervous deep inside even though it wasn’t a shock to you or your parents. 

It had been like this your entire high school. You were the worst student in school and your parents never cared about it. Sure, they would argue with you sometimes, maybe ask why you couldn't show the same interest in your textbooks while you were reading, but they didn't need you to have adequate performance at school. They already had your older sister, Mira, an outstanding student who most assuredly would make herself and her family a name out there. You were the funny little sister who had the opportunity to fuck up whenever she liked to.

“It seems our scores are not so different from before” his insufferable voice was heard next to you, making you assume his comment was directed towards you. How could you forget about Chishiya? The smartest yet most annoying man you have ever met. He could maintain his greatest grades throughout his whole life. However, he lacked any social skills or maybe he didn’t want people around him, you weren’t so sure about it.

His exceptional GPA gave him this weird and irritating sense of superiority, always speaking down to others or straight up ignoring them when they asked for something. Still, he was pretty much surrounded by people all the time, girls chased him around hoping to get his number with little to no results and guys hung with him even if he wasn’t a big fan of them. Damn it, even some of your closest friends, such as Arisu and Kuina hung out with him and would often try to get you to like him, it wouldn’t happen though, there wasn’t anything you disliked more than a condescending jerk. 

“What? The cat got your tongue?” the most unbearable smirk had appeared on his face and you were just about to lose it, you simply couldn’t stand him and felt the need to punch him. But you didn’t, you usually acted on your instincts but this one time, it could get you in trouble. He eyed you with a smile-like grin on his face as you stood in front of the ranks and conducted yourself away from the group of students. 

The bell had already rung some minutes ago and you were now completely free, at least for 10 days or so. The fearful rays of springtime sunlight greeted your face as you walked away from the school. The screams of your friends asking you to wait for them became more and more distant, but you needed to get home as soon as possible to get your post-school nap, and knowing them, they would delay that journey. The soft breeze gave a peaceful atmosphere, walking through your old small town, the tree branches, who were witnesses of your childhood and now teenagehood, laughed seeing you so naive before the future semester.

tag list: @surshica @enslique @httpsimmy

[intermundia]

Once in a while I think about that post. The role ambiguity is one of my most favourite bits about Obikin— and so recently a friend had sent me a song, that I think you might appreciate for the lyrics. That is if you don't already know it, of course. I'll Be Yours - Placebo.

I'll be your father, I'll be your mother I'll be your lover, I'll be yours

There's also a slower, more...anguished variant of this song, which makes me think of Obi-Wan even more. 😌

oh i absolutely love this, especially the slow one, you're right, as obi-wan's secret devotion that he cannot say but only try to mask. it's fitting to how their bond transcends so many categories that it's impossible to describe without being reductive, like it's such a strong bond, too strong to be as unstable as it was, and doomed to rupture spectacularly. father, mother, brother, teacher, best friend, superior officer, rival, everything save lover in the text, but we the audience can use lover as a summation of all the rest. obi-wan just loves him, defines himself in relation to him, devotes his life to him and his children. we see it, and anakin doesn't, and that's their tragedy, like anakin never asked and obi-wan never offered the truth of who they were to each other, and yet they belonged to each other profoundly all the same. this is agonizing, thank you!!!

[petitelepus]

Genya x male or gn reader. They are sharpshooter rivals.

Summary: You and Genya are rivals or at least in your mind.

Warnings: None

A/N: Modern!AU, Kimetsu Academy, Gender Neutral Reader, Genya Shinazugawa

It was a calm day in Kimetsu Academy and after an equally calm school day, Genya was getting ready to head home. He was packing his bag when suddenly the classroom door was slapped open and someone shouted his name.

"Genya Shinazugawa!" You shouted as you burst into your rival's classroom, "Fight me!"

"You again…?" Genya grumbled as he looked at you and you huffed and puffed your chest in pride, "Yes, it's me! Your rival! Now, Senpai, fight me and we will see who is the ultimate sharpshooter!"

"Stop shouting about fighting, people will get the wrong idea!" Genya snapped, but you just laughed, completely ignoring your senior's words, "Then come with me and we shall see who is superior now!"

"Fine fine…" The young man sighed as he got his bag and stepped past you, "Let's get this over with."

"Yes, that's the spirit, Senpai!" You cheered excitedly as you followed him to the shooting range behind the school. Since Genya was the club's ace and best shooter there was, he could march in to practice his shooting whenever he felt like it.

"Alright, Senpai, best out of 10!" You said as you got your rifle and Genya sighed as he prepared his, "Why are we doing this…?"

"To see if I have finally been able to defeat you, the Kimetsu Academy's star shooter!"

"Fine fine, let's get this over with-!"

"Not so fast!" You exclaimed, "Let's make this interesting!"

"Ah," Genya sighed again, "Sure, what do you have in mind?"

"If I beat you, you must acknowledge me as a far superior sharpshooter!"

"Uh hu," The young man nodded, "And if I win?"

"I'll buy you a whole watermelon!" You said, knowing that Genya had a weak spot for his watermelon. Hearing this made Genya's eyes widen as he realized what was at stake here.

You huffed smugly as you took your place and aimed for the target, "Here I go, watch and learn!"

And you shot as best as you could, getting an impressive 9 out of 10 right? You smiled as you lowered your riffle and looked at Genya who was getting ready with his own target.

"See that? 9 out of 10! Impressive, right? Aren't I just amaz-!" You were saying when you heard 10 rapid shots and your jaw dropped in shock when you saw that Genya had shot all a perfect score, all 10 out of 10, and in less time than you!

"Dammit!" You cursed as you fell on your knees and hung your head in loss. lost yet again to your Senpai. You had underestimated Genya's love for watermelon!

"I can't believe I lost to a melon lover like Senpai…!" You grumbled and Genya looked at you, "Don't call me that, people can get the wrong idea!"

"But I lost!" You cried out and the other young man sighed as he put his rifle away, "So, that watermelon?"

"I hate this!" You ground your teeth together as you hit your fist on the ground, "I can't keep losing like this!"

Genya knew you were a personality, but there must have been a reason for your obsession with beating him at his own sport. So he looked at you and asked, "Why?"

"This is all I got!" You cried out, "I'm not academically good or talented and I lack people skills so I don't have any friends!"

Genya blinked as he listened you open up and he nodded, understanding that school might have been hard for you since based on what he had heard, you enrolled in the middle of the semester, and you had trouble making friends due to your… Eccentric personality. No wonder being number 2 might be frustrating to you.

"Hey," Genya called your name.

"What, what is it?" You asked as you looked up and to your shock and surprise, Genya was offering his hand to you, "Wanna share that watermelon and talk? I could give you some tips on how to improve your aim?"

"Y- You would do that for me?" You asked, stunned by your superior's kindness, "Why?"

Genya smiled, "I'm your Senpai, my job is to help my Kohai to one day surpass me. And maybe, if you want, we could try and be friends also?"

"Ah, of course, you must also be a better winner than I am…!" You growled, but you still grabbed his hand and Genya smiled as he helped you up.

"Alright, I…" You blushed slightly as you looked away stubbornly, "I'll… I'll accept your friend request!"

"That's great," The young man nodded with a small smile, "Now let's put our rifles away and get that watermelon you promised me."

"Okay," You nodded as you grabbed your rifle and followed close behind Genya. You couldn't help but pout a little, "One day I will surpass you…

Genya hummed as he nodded, "I'm looking forward to that day."

[pink-heart-jam]

BL Recs - Office Romance

Anyone else loves a hot inappropriate office romance? 🌝 I’ve been exploring this genre in manga/manhwa for a while and have found so many gems! This trope usually walks hand in hand with light humour, flirty banter, enemies to lovers and cute slice-of-life (not to mention the sexy a/b/o dynamics!) which I absolutely love. These are all light and fun comfort reads, perfect choices as a palate cleanser between heavier, angsty stories. Here are some personal favourites - I hope you enjoy them!

Ameiro Paradox by Natsume Isaku

A change in the stakeout team throws Onoe, reporter for a weekly magazine, together with his contemporary, Kaburagi, a photographer. Onoe secretly considers Kaburagi his rival, and Kaburagi's haphazard way of doing things goes against Onoe's strong sense of ethics--there's nothing but conflict between them. But, in joint pursuit of a scandal, the two of them begin to care about each other...?

Beta Off Not Dating by Mintran, Saena, Doojja

Juhyeok is a clueless beta who is thrust into the messy world of alpha-omega dynamics when he leaves his wholesome beta college to work at a more diverse company. There, a full-on fistfight and loud makeup. Repulsed by the pheromones that trump common sense in this crazy environment, Juhyeok swears himself off dating until he saves up enough money to move to a faraway haven for betas.

Day Off by Qing Cai

Sometimes sweet, sometimes sour, and always relaxing, this is a fluffy office romance about a powerful yet gentle superior (who’s occasionally a picky eater) and his cute and earnest subordinate (who’s a silly young Gemini).

Doushitemo Furetakunai by Yoneda Kou

On his very first day at a brand-new job, shy Shima is trapped in the elevator with a hungover mess of a guy…who turns out to be his boss. Togawa’s prickly exterior definitely puts the rookie recruit on-edge, but it doesn’t take long before Shima’s every waking thought is invaded by his overbearing yet totally thoughtful superior.

It’s Not Like That by Gangto, Lime

Under pressure from his unimpressed parents, BL writer Lim Iro is forced into applying for a “real” job. But instead of a cover letter, he accidentally submits an unreleased extract from his book instead. Disaster! Or maybe not…? Faced with Iro’s unconventional application, Baek Ho-ryung, the dashing CEO of Beus drinks company, is intrigued.

On or Off by A1

Yiyoung is building a startup with his college friends. They get a chance to present their proposal to SJ Corporation, one of the leading companies in the country. But in the meeting room he sees Kang Daehyung, the extremely handsome company big shot that's very much his type.

Perfect Buddy by Lash, Daki

Seo Hyunsoo is sure of one thing: people are scum and they will always disappoint you. Sure enough, at his very first company dinner after his transfer to a new department, he finds his coworker, the obnoxiously upbeat Baek Youngchan, performing an unsavory deed in the men's bathroom. As much as Hyunsoo would like to avoid Youngchan from that point on, Youngchan seems intent on not letting him out of his sight...

Punch Drunk Love by Moscareto

Park Sunwoo, who prefers a pair of thick glasses and an awkward-fitting suit, is an employee of DM Electronics' Financial Accounting Team. While secretly spying on his unrequited love as usual, he finds out that Jung Taemoon enjoys promiscuous and rough one-night sex.

The New Recruit by Moscareto & Zec

After spending his 20s getting over a crush, Seunghyun vowed to never give his heart to someone in the same field again. Enter Jongchan, Seunghyun's tough new boss with a surprising soft side.

You Get Me Going by Moscareto, Oh doyeon

Despite being thirty-three, Young-won sure is gullible. He falls in love way too easily, comes on way too hard, and still believes that he’ll meet “Mr. Right” sooner or later. Not that he knows who “Mr. Right” is, but he sure does know about “Mr. Wrong,” a.k.a. Kang Hyun-woo. Young-won swears that he’ll never, ever get together with this polar opposite of his, but the universe sure seems to think different.