#Thinking about that scene from More Troubles then Minutes in the Year

[fictionadventurer]

Having recently read The Blue Castle for the first time, I'm fascinated by your idea of a dystopian retelling! Would you be willing to share more about it?

I shared the plot summary as an Imaginary Book Rec, but since I'm not going to give in to the impulse of writing this story at the moment, I may as well jot down the other details I have.

Valancy lives in a society that's completely ruled by AI (or, at least, AI overseen by humans who totally buy in to this program). There's large-scale AI that controls wider societal functions, but every household is also ruled by a Motherboard that watches every move they make and micromanages their schedule down to the minute.

It's believed that strict adherence to these rules will keep society efficient and safe. Any deviance is strictly punished.

This society views itself as the last bastion of civilization in a post-apocalyptic world. After the disasters that destroyed civilization, this society arose to provide perfect safety and security. Its citizens believe that the world outside the city walls is a dangerous, toxic wasteland, full of beasts and bandits and disease, and that banishment from the city is a death sentence.

(This society calls itself Sterling because they're aiming for perfection after the mistakes of the past).

Imagination and art are deemed useless. Every minute must be spent in some useful activity.

Valancy is a cog in the machine. The AI has labeled her as having no special potential, so she works at repetitive manual labor--I'm thinking janitorial work--and has not been allowed to be paired for reproduction. (I'm thinking the society allows arranged pairs to meet and reproduce, but all children are taken from families and raised in groups, possibly by robots)

Valancy is outwardly a perfect citizen, but internally, she has a rich inner life, and survives by imagining a more romantic world.

The works of John Foster are a major inspiration. The Motherboard deems them acceptable reading, since they're scientific texts about the state of the natural world before the apocalypse, but the AI analysis can't see the human emotion that goes into these works, and how Foster subtly inspires his readers to want more than their perfectly organized society.

(I envision an early scene where Valancy wants to read. The Motherboard protests that this is unacceptable, because she wasted 17.24 minutes in idleness yesterday, but relents when Valancy points out it's a useful scientific text.)

When Valancy starts having heart trouble, she gets analyzed by the infallible medical software, which coldly informs her that she has a year to live and is not worth saving. This is Valancy's breaking point--she's not going to live her last year under the Sterling restrictions.

She starts doing shocking things like expressing emotion, making jokes, and deviating from her schedule. The family dinner scene is replaced by an incident where she displays some of these rebellious behaviors at dinnertime in front of her fellow assigned house-mates, who all think she's gone crazy.

She meets Cissy, who has been cast aside by the Sterling society. She committed the crime of engaging in sex outside of AI-approved encounters, so she's no longer part of proper society. She's not banished to the Wilderness, but she's not allowed medical care, no one's supposed to interact with her, she has no job/food/housing and has to scrounge where she can. Valancy decides to help her out.

Valancy meets Barney Snaith a couple of times. He was banished to the Wilderness but gets to come to the gate sometimes for reasons (maybe Sterling City gets some resources from outside its walls?). There are tons of rumors about the crimes he committed that got him banished.

Eventually, Valancy's work with Cissy gets her (maybe both of them?) banished to the Wilderness. Barney helps Valancy to give Cissy a proper burial in the woods. He then recognizes that Valancy won't be able to survive on her own, and offers her shelter at his place. (I don't think they necessarily need to marry in this scenario. But of course they fall in love over the course of the story).

Valancy learns that the Wilderness, while dangerous, is also full of wild beauty. Barney helps her learn to survive in it and to love it.

Barney's got some major secrets--he'll go off sometimes for mysterious purposes and he refuses to let Valancy come with.

Valancy eventually learns that Barney's part of a rebellion to take down the Sterling society. His father leads the rebellion (he accidentally invented some technology that can take down the AI). Barney used to be a bigger part of it until he was betrayed by a woman he loved and banished to the Wilderness. After nursing his wounds for a while, Barney decided to help the rebellion in a different way, with his writings as John Foster.

But by the end of the story, Barney's father comes back in the picture, and Valancy learns she's not actually dying so she doesn't need to be protected from the stress of the rebellion, and she and Barney join the rebellion in a more active way, helping to take down the Sterling society and put the new government in power.

Making this AU helped me to realize that The Blue Castle already is a dystopian story--all about rebelling against an oppressive society--so putting it in this genre is a really natural fit.

[ajn-illustrated]

Drew this to go with the next chapter of I'm Turning Off The Car, which will most likely be posted Tuesday, if all goes well lol.

I was describing Stacy's outfit in the chapter and was filled with the need to draw it. That vest is directly inspired by one I saw at the thrift store, went back the next day to buy it, and it was gone 😔😭 rip ugly poinsettia sweater vest I miss you

[petermorwood]

A day or so ago, @dduane reblogged a long post - a Canadian magazine article from 1966 - about the Americanisation of Winnie the Pooh.

It's an Impressive Tirade in which the writer (Sheila H. Kieran) says what she thinks about letting Walt Disney have a free hand with a foreign Children's Classic.

There's mention of the previous Adaptation Endeavour, "Mary Poppins" (1964) but it's very brief, perhaps with an eye to limited column space - or maybe because All Was Said Already in a previous review.

There is, however, rather a lot about the English characters being given American accents, and about the inclusion of a new character, an American gopher (which, the article suggests, looked vague enough to the Kieran children - its target audience - that it might as well have been a mole or a beaver).

*****

And that reminded me of another bit of American Animalisation done by Disney, in the 1949 short "The Wind and the Willows" - though in this instance it's visual since the voices are, for the most part, suitably British.

They include Basil Rathbone as narrator, and a horse who sounds like George Formby. In some scenes the horse actually looks like Formby, so this voice may not be entirely accidental.

Badger, however, sounds like a Scotsman - the worst kind of stage Scotsman at that - rather than how I used to "hear" him as a C. Aubrey Smith-voiced crusty retired colonel.

That, however, is just personal preference.

However, Disney's Badger is not a proper British (more correctly, European) badger, Meles meles. Here's one, which though not the most amiable of beasts in reality, still manages to look fairly affable ("I say, old chap, whatever are you looking at?")

Instead he's a North American badger, Taxidea taxus, which not only has a less affable expression ("Hey, bud, you. Yeah, you. You lookin' at me? You lookin' at ME?") but, more important, different stripes.

Here's Disney's version alongside mine. The correction took about five minutes of pixel-tweaking.

Disney's animators could have got it right from the outset just as easily, because I'm pretty sure the reference library which provided costume info for Rat's tweed Norfolk jacket and britches included picture-books of natural history.

Come to that, any "The Wind in the Willows" after the unillustrated first edition would have been enough, and there must have been at least one copy lying around for story adaptation and scene-description purposes.

The first illustrated edition came out in the UK in 1931, and its artist was, at author Kenneth Graham's request, the very same E.H. Shepard who had illustrated the Pooh books just a few years previously...

...while this Arthur Rackham colour plate is from an edition published in 1940 in New York.

So those books wouldn't have been impossible for Disney to get.

The problem, however, is that if a word ("badger", for instance) is well known to mean one thing here, it may be Too Much Trouble to find out if the same word means something else there, with the result that finding out can sometimes come as rather a surprise.

Check the UK / US meaning of "suspenders" to see what I mean... ;->

[princessbrunette]

basketball!rafe knew he needed you the moment he set eyes on you once more in that hotel bar.

personally, you thought he might’ve been a nobody on first glance. a really handsome nobody, so he couldn’t have actually been a nobody — but it was the intrigue that drew you in regardless. to set the scene, you didn’t have to go far to find him, no — this was the fanciest hotel in your hometown and you were there alone. something about getting all dressed up and then your friends cancelling last minute, it didn’t matter — it felt like so long ago that you’d forgotten all about it. all you remember was seeing the handsome nobody in a t-shirt and a cap strolling up to the bar.

it was only after doing a double take, you realised the nobody was rafe cameron.

now you’d already known rafe from the obx. distantly, of course — a couple of parties here and there, some lingering glances when you were convinced he was a fuck boy. he was apparently a little unhinged back in the day, but after his dad died he fixed his shit and went pro with basketball, making it big. like mentioned, you weren’t friends, merely acquaintances with the boy a couple of years your senior— but he’d always been someone you saw get their shit together and think, you know what? good for him i guess.

now rafe remembers his history with you differently. apparently, he used to shoot hoops with your older brother in your backyard with a few other friends back when they were younger. still a casual hobby for rafe, and playing it anywhere else but a kook’s backyard might’ve looked too poguey for him to be caught partaking in. at the end of the day, golf was meant to be his sport. it was fitting and low maintenance. basketball took the cake everytime however— helping him mentally in more ways than anyone could imagine.

anyway, he remembers you — a lot younger than you are now, flip flops slapping along the patio as you arrive on destination — mouthing off to your big brother about bouncing the ball too loudly off your wall or spending all the money your mother had left for pizza on the counter. you were this tiny mouthy weapon, even having the infamous rafe cameron snickering down at his shoes as your brother whined back at you, trying to shoo you back inside. he recalls even catching a couple of strays, your shrill youthful voice referring to the eldest cameron as a ‘lanky meathead’.

“jesus, you gotta keep your sisters mouth in check dude. gonna grow up n’get her in trouble n’shit.” he’d shake his head as you’d waddle back inside, bouncing the ball and shooting. after that it was just parties as you grew up, seeing a familiar pretty face through a coked out haze and thinking ‘who’s that again?’ in passing or overhearing you talking to your friends, still carrying that same slick mouth that you only got away with because you were so hot.

only now, he’s staring across this dimly lit hotel bar, the first time in a while that he’d been back in his hometown and there you are — staring back at him, a face he’d never forget except you’re all grown up now— practically spilling out that slinky little dress and acting as a magnet, his feet dragging him over to you before his drink had even arrived from the bartender.

not even five minutes into conversation and it’s abundantly clear that you’re still that spoiled little cheerleader he knew once upon a time, only this time you’re tilting your head to the side with your brows furrowed in confusion that bordered on disinterest when he tried to explain what happened in his most recent game. you weren’t here to talk about that and it showed, leaning over your margarita to adjust his expensive looking chain, pulling it to sit above his tshirt instead of tucked beneath, cutting him off to question “so you knew my brother, right?” he liked that directness about you. the fact you kinda seemed like a bitch. it was a challenge, the urge to tame and rough someone up still very much sat at the surface of his wants and desires.

once a spoiled brat — always a spoiled brat, only now you’re his spoiled brat six months later, clinging to his arm and digging your manicure into his bicep with a whine as a silent command for him to magically vanish any of the surrounding paparazzi outside the airport.

“get rid of them.” you eventually mewl, in a demanding way that represented the physical embodiment of you stomping your pedicured foot.

“you think i fuckin’ want them here?” he sighs, no stranger to your ridiculous requests. that’s what was so intoxicating about your relationship — yes you were a little bitch sometimes, but he learnt how was best to put you in your place. most of the time you were happy, fucked and fed with racks upon racks sat in your expensive handbag, clinging to him and tottering along at his side in heels that cost an arm and a leg— but the times you were snarking up at him, telling him to ‘shut the fuck up’ he was more than happy to grab your throat and ask “the fuck are you talking to like that, huh?” which oddly would cause a smile to emerge on your face and the attitude to melt off you for an hour or so.

that being said, you kept him in check too. now rafe wasn’t like he always was — unhinged, explosive and overall angry at the world. no, he had an access to therapy now and basketball worked for a good outlet of his frustrations, all whilst opening up a new world for him to get his fresh start away from all that family bullshit he had to put up with a while back (cut them all off, minus wheezie who he sends money to every month and facetimes to talk shit.) that being said — he would be the one to catch an attitude out of the blue sometimes, which was often remedied by a sharp eyebrow raise from you, a dramatic head swivel and a “you better fucking talk to me nice, rafe cameron. not one of your fucking fan girls.”

with a tongue in his cheek, he’ll shake his head and drop the whole thing — but not without saying “y’know you run your mouth like you’re six foot four with two pistols tucked sometimes. shit.”

life outside of your relationship with rafe became a dream all because of him. quickly, as rafe skyrockets to success in the basketball world, you’re skyrocketing to being the top pinterest muse— starring in every girls ‘future manifestation’ moodboard with snaps of you courtside in your pretty little outfits cheering on your boyfriend. you were glammed to the nines at every game, because you knew you’d end up on that big screen one way or another.

when travelling with rafe for his tournaments, you’d get the princess treatment you deserved and that was a promise. designer shoes, designer bags, steak meals that cost the same as your house back home and you were not poor by any stretch of the word. he liked to flaunt you, flaunt his success. he was the man now, like he’d always wanted to be — and effortlessly so, not the charade he was putting on back at tanny hill throwing those parties whilst suffering on the sly. no, he had everything now— and was happy to share that with you. you didn’t have to do much to gain this treatment, no. holding him down was enough, but he’d be happy to accept your payment of gratitude in having his cock wedged down your throat in the limo back to the hotel, ending the night on your back with your ankles on his shoulders and that same chain you fiddled with when you first reunited swinging in your face.

it was no secret that the two of you fucked. it made up a good 60% of your free time together, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. rafe could still get very frustrated — with his manager, with his teammates, with people from his past cropping up, even with the general public who had opinions on his playing — and with that, what better way to pound out some frustrations then by bending you over a balcony in a foreign country? rafe had a good team behind him, and luckily so — because it wouldn’t be the first time a hotel had attempted to get the two of you blacklisted for causing too much of a noise disturbance, notes pinned to your door found in the morning reading ‘Dear guests, whilst we are thrilled that you are enjoying our hotel, we please ask that you keep it down for the sake of the other guests. To remind you, other guests do not need to hear your lovemaking through the night! If this continues throughout your stay you will be asked to leave.’

your basketball player boyfriend would pluck the note off the door the next morning when you’re leaving together for the day, your sleepy self tucked under the arm of his hoodie covering his jersey as he scoffs, handing it your way carelessly. “pussies. they can’t do shit about it.”

unstoppably so, despite your hate for gossip past being in high school the notes would turn to blind items as rafe truly came into the public eye. you couldn’t scroll three videos on tiktok without hearing ‘this north carolina basketball player and hometown it girl may have come into hot water again at this famous vegas hotel after making sure their wall neighbours heard the ins and outs of their passion — april 27th, crazy days and nights.’ that, or the blogosphere getting ahold of the blurry and ambiguous paparazzi shots taken of you supposedly ‘getting it on’ on the beach.

unfortunately, this public knowledge that the two of you were real fuckers was not enough for twitter, which resulted in your first leaked video.

rafe should have known to be careful when the two of you in a lustful haze filmed an amateur tape the day before you had to fly home for a little while, the basketball player knowing he’d miss being in it and needed some material to work off whilst you were gone.

the video was 1 minute and 49 seconds of pure glory. filmed on landscape with an outstretched arm rafe captures you, whining and mewling as you roll your hips on his lap, bouncing on his cock as he watches the two of you through the screen, swollen lips parting and tongue flattening to catch your nipple as you do so. he grips your ass hungrily, aiding you on fucking down on him before delivering a firm smack to your ass that makes you jolt, only unlatching his mouth from your tit to grumble out “s’what i’m fuckin’ talking about baby. who’s your daddy, huh?” looking up at you from your needy spread out position.

you still recall the way your heart dropped into your ass seeing your name along side rafes in the trending tab, following by the words ‘leaked video’.

your legal teams were all over it instantly, working hard to get it shut down off every site it had been reuploaded and desperately attempting to track down whoever had managed to get into your boyfriends cloud to expose it— a couple weeks of watching paparazzi shots of rafe taking calls outside buildings, yelling down the phone and flipping off the cameras in moments of frustration and stress — for him to then be on the phone to you from a hotel room later that night, talking you down as you cry like a baby and complain.

“i know, i know alright i’m workin’ on it. gonna get that shit wiped from the net i can promise you that now, i got the guy who can make it happen for me. but for now, look y’know there’s — there’s nothin’ i can do alright, i can’t make people fuckin’… unsee that shit unfortunately just be glad you look so sexy in the video cause — okay, shit, the hell are you yelling for? m’just tryna help—”

after a while it does infact die down, and the video can no longer be found — yes, even on the shitty pop up porn sites that had reposted it with twelve watermarks in the worst quality. however, it didn’t stop jaded basketball fans from bringing it up any chance they got — getting in heated debates online and using it as an insult to the cameron boys playing skills. god forbid a rafe fan would speak up for him after a particularly poor game, his mentions getting filled with nothing but a screenshot of your boyfriend with your titty in his mouth.

though it had faded, the two of you learned that there was no way around it than to humour it — your boyfriend barely addressing the tape by quoting it in his instagram caption after one of his big wins, the post of him grinning on the court with his trophy tilted ‘who’s your daddy, huh?’ which of course, sent twitter into a spiral.

[hellfirenacht]

Anomaly Part 3

Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who’s not named Eddie Munson.

Tags: Anxious-ish!Reader but not shy, one sided pining, no use of y/n, fem!reader, one sided enemies to lovers, fem!reader

2.4k Words

Part 1, Part 2, Master List

Miles Cooper was still at school the following week, which meant that he was given no consequences for what had happened to you or for blaming Eddie. 

Eddie couldn’t even say he was surprised by this point. If Eddie really had been the one to trip you up, he was sure he’d get suspended or even expelled. It was so close to the end of the year and he could feel that Higgins was looking for any reason to keep him from walking across that stage to get his diploma. 

You hadn’t shown up on Monday. Not that it mattered to Eddie either way, you two didn’t even know each other. But you had cleared his name. That was the thought that kept buzzing around his brain like a mosquito that he just couldn’t swat. Despite the glares and the snide remarks, you had gone out of your way to make sure that he didn’t get in trouble for something he didn’t do, which is more than what he could say for a lot of people at this school.

He had to give you credit for that at least. Not many people outside of his small friend circle would stick up for him like that. 

With work and band practice, it was easy to forget about you until Wednesday when you showed up to English class with a thick white cast around your wrist and arm. Shit, your fall really had done a number on you. You were struggling with juggling your books and they fell off your desk with a clatter, and you thanked the girl next to you for helping you pick them up. 

Eddie would like to think he was above eavesdropping and gossip, but he’d be wrong. 

“What happened?” The girl- Sarah- asked. 

“I face planted on the bleachers at the pep rally.” you said, taking your seat again. “One minute I was trying to get down, and the next I’m getting elbowed and my arm hurt.” 

“I heard someone pushed you” 

Eddie heard that emphasis on someone and gripped his pencil, hearing the subtle sound of wood splintering against his thumb. This was not the time to make a scene. 

“No one pushed me. Miles elbowed me and I fell.” you said firmly. 

You were still defending him, Eddie wasn’t sure how to feel. 

“If you’re gonna spread rumors, could you do me a favor and make it sound more interesting?” You continued, “Like, start telling people that I dived off the bleachers to distract everyone that Miles shit himself.”

Eddie snorted loudly before he could stop himself. He slammed his hand pencil down on the table and covered his mouth. Dammit, why did you have to be funny?

Sarah laughed, much less obnoxiously and agreed before asking to sign your cast. You must be covered in signatures now, as you seemed to be friends with everyone. 

Everyone except him. 

Not that it mattered. 

It was nice and all that you saved him from getting in trouble, but it’s not like you two were ever going to be friends, no matter how funny you were. 

Class started and Eddie spent the rest of class doodling and barely paying attention to the teacher. This was usually how his school days went. Yeah, he had been trying harder in the past two years to graduate and pass his classes but some days his brain just refused to focus on anything important. 

The bell rang and Eddie took his sweet time getting his things together. Next period was his favorite- lunch. 

“Shit.” He heard you mumble as you tried to wrangle your books with one arm. He knew there was a rule about not being allowed to carry around a backpack but, shit, Eddie would have thought you’d get some help. Shouldn’t one of those many signatures be offering to carry your books? 

Obviously not, as you finally managed to tuck your notebook under your arm. You looked flustered, and hot in the face. Your brows were furrowed in concentration and you finally let out a loud groan as your papers went flying everywhere as students for the next class started coming in. 

It was pathetic, and Eddie couldn’t exactly leave you stranded. You cleared his name, so at least he could try and help you out right now. Maybe he’d even figure out what your problem with him was. 

“Here.” Eddie said and grabbed the papers closest to him and picked up your binder before you could stop him. 

Normally when Eddie looked at you, you’d turn your nose up at him and look away. This time, he found himself giving you direct eye contact. Your eyes were wide with surprise that he had stepped in to help, followed by more frustration. 

“Thanks.” you said shortly. 

“Need help getting to the lunch room?” Eddie asked. He’d wait for you to say no, to tell him to get out of your face, and he can walk away with a clear conscience that at least he tried. 

You were staring at him as if he were some sort of alien who had just asked you why the sky wasn’t orange. Yeah ok, he could take the hint. 

“Yes.” 

The word sounded choked out, as if the single syllable was a struggle to say. But you had said it, and Eddie was a man of his word, even though he hadn’t promised you anything. 

Eddie stacked your notebook and binder on top of his. You were still staring at him as if you couldn’t believe he was talking to you. Eddie couldn’t really believe it himself. 

He’d do this small favor for you as a thanks, and then you two could go back to ignoring each other. 

“Lead the way.” He said, offering up his best impression of his dad’s smile. If he was lucky (which Eddie never was) then maybe some of his dad’s Munson Magic might rub off on him enough so that you’d at least relax a little. 

You only nodded and led him out of the classroom. 

You didn’t like the cast and it’s off-putting stark white bandages. You wanted to choose a different color- maybe red or black or even that weird obnoxious toxic green that was offered to you. But your mom decided that white would be better because it would make it easier to sign, so white it was. 

Your parents at least took pity on you Monday, letting you stay home to wallow in embarrassment that you had broken your wrist and fractured your arm in front of all of your classmates. Tuesday they released you back to school, but you had instead skipped getting on the bus (because you could not drive one-handed) and played hooky at the local library. It’s not like anyone would care that someone your age was skipping school. 

Wednesday came, and you forced yourself onto the bus, the first time you had used it since moving to Hawkins. The ride was bumpy and long, and your walkman ran out of batteries halfway to school. 

It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. A few people came up and signed your cast, some asking what happened. You just told them the same thing, that Miles elbowed you and you fell. It wasn’t as exciting as the idea of the school Freak attacking you, but you weren’t about to get Eddie involved in something that he had nothing to do with. You were just going to ignore the fact that Eddie had been the reason you were heading in that direction anyway. 

English class rolled around, and you spent most of it poking the inside of your cast with your pencil, trying to scratch an itch that just wouldn’t go away. It was bad enough that you had fucked up your dominant arm, but this was actually Hell. 

When the bell rang, everyone else seemed to be in a huge rush to get out of the classroom. Everyone but Eddie. Obviously. Because of course the one person you were trying to avoid was now slinking around you. 

Your long weekend, you had done your best to try and not think about him. You could handle falling in front of everyone else in school, but with Eddie it was different. Your stomach twisted as you remembered how he had yelled as you fell next to him and how he had looked at you as you had ignored your stinging arm as you ran out of the gym to clear his name. 

It was bad enough he had heard you make a poor joke out of context, you weren’t going to throw him under the bus either. 

“Need help getting to the lunch room?”

Your face was already hot with the embarrassment of not being able to carry your own books. Your backpack had ripped the second you got off the bus, and you lost your math homework to a puddle. You hated that he was still here to begin with, was breaking your wrist already not enough pain and suffering? 

You were staring at him. Fuck- dammit- shit say something back-

“Yes.” 

The word almost got stuck in your throat. The only reason it came out was that as painful and embarrassing as this moment was, what Stacy would do to you if she found out you said no would be far worse. 

Eddie dropped your books on top of his, and gave you a smile that looked so forced that you couldn’t stand to look at him. Was this being done just out of pity? You’d run for the hills if he wasn’t holding you binder hostage. 

You led him through the hallway, and towards your locker. “I need to put some things up.” you said, and he followed you. 

The hallway was already mostly clear, and so no one seemed to pay you much mind. You weren’t sure what the rumor mill would churn out with Eddie carrying your books, but did it even matter? Two more months and you’d be out of this school and none of these people would matter. 

No one except the young man following behind you. 

Eddie dutifully held your books as you put them away. The door to your locker stopped you from seeing his face, which seemed like the perfect time to take the foot out of your mouth that had been there since the pep rally. 

“...I’m... uh... I’m sorry for what I said on Friday.” you started, pretending to rifle through a folder. “About you being in a cult. It was a stupid joke and I shouldn’t have said it.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment, and you felt your whole body tense up as you waited for him to say anything. 

“Yeah we uh.. We aren’t big on sacrificing in Hellfire.” he said carefully. “Had to stop that with the club budget cuts.” 

You had to bite the inside of your cheek and close your eyes tight to keep from laughing. You covered it up with a cough. “Yeah uh... sounds like that’d be a lot of paperwork.” 

You took a slow and deep breath before closing your locker to look at him. He was smiling at you, a far less forced one than before. It was almost the same smile he gave his friends when he didn’t know you were looking. 

It wasn’t much, but it didn’t stop the butterflies from exploding in your chest. You should see a doctor about that. 

“Oh yeah, tons.” Eddie said. “And with all the letters we get about our club being associated with the Devil it was just a bureaucratic headache.”

I know that if I could just talk to him one then I’d be fine. You had told yourself that every single day since these pesky little feelings emerged. Maybe you had been right. The two of you made your way to the cafeteria. 

“You’re just some nerds playing with dice.” you said, and realize that could be taken the wrong way. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve also... played board games.” 

God you were acting like a total airhead. Board games? Really? You were acting like your brain was broken rather than your wrist. 

You felt Eddie’s eyes on you, and saw how he also looked unsure about your answer. Whatever was going through his head, he brushed aside. 

“I should also thank you for clearing my name.” he said, changing the subject. “You came running out of the gym and saved my ass.” 

“I wasn’t going to let someone get in trouble just because I fell!” It was the most assured thing you had ever said to Eddie.

“Well, either way I’d say you’re my hero.” Eddie said. “I’m pretty sure if you hadn’t come running to my rescue I’d probably be expelled by now, and then who would be around to corrupt the youth of Hawkins?” 

Hero. Eddie called you his hero. You felt your body buzzing with an energy that you were not in a place to use. 

You two were in the cafeteria now, and you led Eddie over to where Stacy was sitting. Stacy, being the queen of subtlety that she was, was openly gawking at the sight of the two of you together. 

She was giving you a look, and that look said that the second that Eddie was out of earshot you would be giving her a play by play of every single second of this interaction. 

Eddie dropped your books on the table by Stacy.

“Hi, Eddie!” she said in a perky voice. You wanted to kick her, and shot her a warning look which she ignored. “Will you be dining with us today?” 

You wanted to rip your hair out. 

“As much as I would love to spend my lunch period with you two ladies, I’m afraid my freshmen wouldn’t survive out there in the wild without me.” Eddie gave a dramatic bow. 

“Thank you. For helping me.” you said stiffly. Being on the receiving end of Eddie’s theatrics was making your brain blow a fuse. 

Eddie gave you a nod and sauntered off to his usual table where he was immediately hounded by his friends for being seen with you. You wondered what they were thinking. Did you look weird next to Eddie? Were they judging you for not being part of their group?

“Stop drooling.” Stacy said. “Talk.”

I have never broken a bone and have done minimal googling.

Also these chapters are getting longer dammit. This is supposed to be the easy stuff to wright UGH. Also tell me if there's something you wanna see with this, because I'm winging it like I do with all my writing lol

Tag List: @eddiemunsonfuxks @kirsteng42 @strangereads @pedroschka @generoustrashpeach

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[ofjunemoment]

getting even | lee haechan (P1)

synopsis —  Haechan is notorious for his pranks. Who can forget about the one time the campus fountain was bleeding red? You were weary of never getting on his wrong side, but when you get to know him better, it seems like behind all that front he's a sweet and caring guy. That is until you get a bucket of water dunked on you straight after he promised he wouldn't pull something on you. You're not only pissed that he had fooled you like this, but that he chose such a simple prank.

pairing - haechan x fem!reader

genre - university!au, (one-sided) enemies, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, very slice of life, eventual smut (MDNI)

Wc - 11.6k

content - clubbing scene, reader is drunk at one point, random idols mentioned, university settings

warnings: mentions of throwing up (nothing too detailed)

a/n - hi lovelies <3 heres the first part to getting even!!! while i was writing the story i noticed it was getting very long (and i still have like... five more scenes to write lol) so i thought of getting this out first ^^ not a lot happens here but stay tuned for the next part because.. a lot.. happens there hehe. i hope you enjoy readingggg!!

Walking into your lecture, your eyes scan around to find an empty spot to occupy, but you were pleasantly surprised to see your friend Naeun sitting in one corner, leaning back as she scrolls through her phone. She beams when she sees you, patting the seat next to hers.

“Fancy seeing you here,” You plop down your bag next to your chair, teasing her from the get-go. She whines shyly at your callout.

“I was struck with academic motivation never felt before. It felt like I was destined to come in today and be as studious as possible,” She points towards the lecture, which is barely filled with students. It’s a nine a.m. lecture, but you decided to come in early today to snag a good seat that lets your focus on the lecture with your upcoming assignment that's due; Naeun on the other hand barely comes in after the first two weeks of the semester, regardless of what time the lecture is. If it’s not mandatory, why go?

Her motto is what makes you raise your eyebrow at her now, scanning her figure as if to fish out the real reason why she’s here.

“Don’t look at me like that! I actually came in to study today,” you raise your hands in self-defence, looking away from her with a giggle, opting to stop teasing her.

But not even a minute later, she cracks; “Okay, fine. If you keep insisting me to tell you I guess I have no choice,”

“But I didn’t even—”

“I heard from Haneul who heard from Heejin’s girlfriend who was at that book club meeting with Renjun, which for some reason thought Norwegian Wood the book didn’t match the song, which is such a hot take that only he would take. Anyways,” She crosses her leg over her knee, leaning in as if to tell you a secret, manicured hands cupping the side of her face.

“Haechan might pull something today, at this lecture.” You barely caught her words, but after a few seconds of taking in what she said, you lean back and look at her with wide eyes.

“Haechan? I thought he was finished?” Naeun nods her head at lightning speed, her expression matching yours too.

“See, that’s what I thought too, but apparently he only had some sort of weird writer's block but for his pranks. I think he missed all the attention he used to get, not that he’s any less popular now, but you know what I mean,” You, in fact, have no idea what she means. But with the new information that you’re now fed, you’re hyperaware of your surroundings, looking around for any abnormalities within your vicinity.

Ever since the orientation of the first year of your course, when you met Naeun and had to fight against falling asleep with all the alcohol the seniors were feeding you as a sort of welcoming ritual, Haechan had already made a solid impression on everyone. With the seniors pushing all the first-year students to drink, Haechan had gotten into a bit of trouble for refusing to drink something they’ve poured out for him, as the older guys go around with mindless gossiping, stating how much of a prune he is and that he’s just ruining the fun, all while they stick around girls who are out of their league.

Later that day, Haechan had made a few drinks for the few who he had angered as a form of apology. With his head bowed in tow, he honestly looked like he was asking for their forgiveness.

“It was careless of me to disrespect my seniors so blatantly like this, could you accept these as an apology? I’ll even pour out the soju for you.” With the bottle in his hand, his other hand cradled his elbow, showing respect as he barely met their eyes. The seniors were ready to make him work for it more, but with the way he was bowed in front of everyone in the hall, it looked like they were picking on the poor boy.

“Ah, Haechan, you don’t have to do that.” One of them chuckles. “We were just joking aroun—”

“Please! Just accept this, I don’t know how I can last the rest of my uni years knowing that I had disrespected you on my very first day.” He shouts in his high-pitched voice, making the already quiet hall of murmuring people all go silent. The seniors were now all flustered, before being ushered to take the cups Haechan had provided, waiting for him to pour them drinks.

From the corner of the table, you were slumped against, you remember two things very vividly that night; one, Naeun was an only child, which we can definitely work with. And two, when Haechan looked up at the second and third years of his major accepting his drinks, his grateful smile was laced with some sort of sinister glint.

As the seniors grumble in embarrassment while Haechan finishes pouring each one of them a drink, they swish their cups around as if it’s wine, delaying drinking from them while Haechan insists on signifying their bond with a toast.

“To my seniors, I hope to perform up to your expectations,” And with the tip of their cups in an imaginary circle, everyone cheered ‘one-shot’ as the seniors down their drinks. Haechan merely sipped his, and you had noticed his lips tilting to one corner, and even in your drunk state, you knew something was off.

Your suspicions were confirmed when the seniors all started coughing wildly, some clutching the corner of a table or one anothers’ shoulders, seeming like they were coughing their lungs out.

Turns out that Haechan had slipped hot sauce into the drinks, creating a fusion of different burning sensations to travel down their throats as they drink the alcohol in one shot. Instead of being chastised, he was cheered on by the other first years who were either tipsy or barely hanging on. Ever since then, he was known to pull pranks every now and then, most harmless, some embarrassing, but nothing serious and nothing to spite anyone. Like tampering with clocks in the lecture halls, making them chime a tune every ten minutes, or when he had swapped his blonde friend Jeno’s shampoo with a firetruck red dye, leaving his neck and the better part of his forehead red from the dye for days on end. The only prank done with motivation was the first one as if it was some sort of initiation in itself.

“Wait, at this lecture? But there’s barely anyone here. Doesn’t Haechan carry out his pranks with a full-blown audience at tow?” Naeun shushes at your words, trying to get you to quiet down with your words, but it was too late. The deed was done as the guy from behind you perks up at your conversation, leaning into your conversation bubble.

You recognise him as Sunwoo, as he quickly shifts his gaze between the two of you. “Haechan’s doing something today? Like, at this lecture?”

“Oh.. well, I wouldn’t say so,”

“Naeun,” He turns to your friend, and you look at her with doom written on both of your faces. Naeun can’t lie to save her life, most people know that by now, but never really have the balls to test the theory. Until now, of course.

“Naeun, is Haechan gonna pull a prank today?”

“Naeun, remember what we talked about restraint.” You tried to keep her attention on you, knowing that if her gaze wandered to the boy, she would break.

“Come on Naeun,” Sunwoo whines now, stomping his feet, making you look at him with disgust written on your face at his sudden burst of cuteness. “Just say yes or no. Ywes or nwo.”

“Dude, gross,” You shove at his shoulder in an attempt to finally relent. Naeun squeezes her eyes shut.

“Pwetty pwease?”

“Fine! Fuck, oh my god. Yes, he is, Haechan is maybe doing something today.” She leans back into her chair, chest heaving as if she’d run a marathon. “I hated that, please don’t ever do that again.” Sunwoo winks at you two as he suddenly stands straight in his seat.

With hands cupped around his mouth, he shouts out. “Hey everyone! Haechan is pulling a prank today! Tell all your friends to be careful, and to keep their cameras rolling! Remember to post it on the campus’ blog!” And with that, phones chime as people text and call the imminent news. You and Naeun look at each other, defeated.

“At least they don’t know that we spread it?” You try, shoulders now hunched in as Naeun rubs at her temples.

“Oh! Also, it was these two who told me, so you should thank them!” Sunwoo yells one last time as he points at the two of you, with some hoots and cheers now being sent your way. You two shrink into yourselves even more.

“Haneul is never gonna invite me out for bubble tea ever again,”

As the lecture hall fills up to its max capacity, everyone is on the edge of their seat, waiting for something to happen. The star of the show himself is nowhere to be seen, but his friends are huddled in their usual corner, trying their best to smile kindly and repeat on about how they ‘don’t know what Haechan is up to. Can I send him a text to see where he is? Why are you telling me what to do—’. Thankfully Jeno was able to stop Renjun from pouncing anyone, even though they both knew nothing would’ve happened.

The lecturer seems over the moon to have the hall filled as much as it is, excitedly explaining statistics and their significance in the current world. She doesn’t seem to notice that the majority are here for some sort of public performance and not the different ways you can find the probability of whatever it is she’s droning on about. You try your best to nod when she looks towards your general direction.

As the lecture ends, people grow restless with the lack of action in the last two hours. But no one had dared to step out of the hall, much less out of their seats in fear of something happening. But when the lecturer thanks everyone for joining her this week and talks about gratitude, people slump into their chairs, grumbling and huffing about their time being wasted. Everyone starts packing straight away, slowly maneuvering to the exit as they cook up theories about why Haechan had gone so long without a prank, and how the word got spread in the first place. You and Naeun sit static in your chairs, not wanting to attract any attention, alongside Haechan’s friends, who merely go on their phones and twirl their pens.

“Do you think this will come back to bite us in our ass?” You’re careful to whisper this time, shoving your laptop into your bag and Naeun clicks her pens closed. She merely shrugs, “I don’t think they even know our names, so I think we should be fine.” You look at the lecturer, who seems to be skipping her way to the exit now, undoubtedly feeling ecstatic at doing her job. As she opens the door and steps to the hall, you last see her beaming smile before a screech echoes out, making everyone stop in their tracks.

The people who were the closest to her are now looking at the ground where she lies, bags and items now askew across the floor outside of the hall. A few step up and help her get up by grasping her wrists, pulling when she seems to have found their bearings. But their effort ends fruitless, as not only does she stay on the floor, but the two people who had helped her also collapse again on the floor.

“What the fuck…” As people go to help their friends and the lecturer from the floor, the three figures on the floor attempt to skid back into the lecture room instead of out. A guy you recognise as Beomgyu looks out onto the hallway outside the lecture hall, before pressing the tip of his shoe against the floor as if to test something. When he pressed his sole against the floor, he tries shifting left and right before pressing his other foot on the floor, rebalancing himself when he’s tilted a bit to the left. You see him squat down and take a big whiff, face confused as he stands back up, but not for long.

Smiling like a radiating child, his laugh echoes throughout the hall as he pulls on his friend Jeongin’s hand to join him. “The floor is covered with butter!”

At that, the once quiet hall grows loud, as people slowly step onto the floor, while some treat it like a skating rink, gliding and spinning right outside the lecture hall.

“The whole floor with butter? When did he have the time to do that?” You question as you now stand with your bag slung over your shoulder. Jeno, who was walking past you with Renjun, turns back to you. “He did it while the lecture was going on. If you can’t handle skidding on the floor, you might wanna use the other door,” And with a blinding smile, he turns back around and heads out the alternative door.

Naeun clutched at your bicep. “Did he talk to us right now? Like, look at us in the eye and speak words?”

You nod your head. “I think you can put your delusional days to an end. He totally likes you,” She smacks your hand as you tease her, but huddles closer nevertheless.

“I am, for once, thankful that you just speak words without thinking,”

You’re tugging at the waist of your skirt as Naeun pulls you by your locked elbows, shoes clicking towards the direction of the club. The Beehive club is known to harbour students of all majors from your university, as it is the closest club to the dorms situated just a five-minute walk away from campus, making socialising as easy as it can get. Naeun had urged for you two to go this week, even when you’d rather rest after giving in the assignment that you were slaving over for the past few days. She insisted that it would be worth this time.

“Haechan finally put a cease in his hiatus. That means he will be at the party, which means Jeno will be at the party, which means I need to make my presence known and somehow rizz him by sending him brainwaves.” She had explained while getting ready, as she blows on her false lashes before putting them on. You sulk from your position in bed, slowly trying to hype yourself up to get ready.

“You’re not even gonna talk to him? What’s the point then?” Naeun groans at that.

“You know that if I open my mouth around him I’ll pee myself. Come on, and you deserve to have some fun after all that hard work,” And so half a bottle of soju and an hour later, you find yourself covering one of your ears as you descend the stairs to the Beehive club. You feel the bass of the song travel up your legs as you enter the club, and are offered free drink coupons. It’s when you’re squeezing a lemon slice into your mouth at the bar that you feel a hand tap against your shoulder. You turn to see Haneul, a grin gleaming even in the dark of the club as she squeals and pulls both you and Naeun into a hug.

“My favourite girls, how have you been?” She shouts against the booming music against your ears, to which you give her a thumbs up while Naeun further squeezes herself against Haneul's figure in excitement, the alcohol already making her feel giddier. She pulls you towards the dance floor, muttering about how she has a VIP booth that someone had offered her, and leads the way. Plopping down, Haneul gestures for staff before saying something into his ear, before giving a wink and pointing at the VIP booth you’re settled at.

As you three start conversing, the staff comes back with more drinks, and Haneul encourages you to drink, assuring you that it’s attached to the tab of the booth. “Some guy called Jay has this booth under his name, and he said to put any drinks I wanted on the tab,” You toast your free drinks against one another, the clink of the glasses barely audible as you each take a sip. Haneul shares the anecdotes and stories that have while she was away on vacation, while you and Naeun nod and react accordingly, slipping in your commentaries at the climax of her stories.

“What about you two? Any news recently?” She takes a sip from her straw as she says this, glancing between the two of you excitedly. You and Naeun share a sheepish glance, knowing neither of you has anything as exciting to share.

“Oh come on, what have you been doing these days?”

“Just work,” Naeun frowns as she says this.

“And school,” You follow up.

“You’re right, and school. And then work again,”

“And scho—”

“You guys are miserable,” Haneul scoffs jokingly. She reaches for the bottle of champagne that's sitting in the ice bucket, grabbing two clean glasses. “Here, have more drinks so you can have something exciting to tell me later on,” Although mixing your drinks is never good, the loud music and the flashing lights encourage you to drink more, and your body craves to let loose.

Two glasses and a twenty-minute dance break later, you’re at a corner of the club huddling near each other. Naeun had caught a glimpse of Jeno at the bar, and the alcohol in her system removed all brain-to-mouth filters she had.

“He’s so—” She cups her face as she hiccups. “So fine. So so fine. You know, when we were at our lecture… the other day with Haechan’s …comeback or, fuck, butter floor, he spoke to us,” Her warm eyes fluttered as she thought back to that moment. “Jeno said real words, in real life and my ear heard them. I think he looked at me too, what the fuck?” She grabs her forehead as if taking the information in for the first time before she presses her head against your shoulder.

“She’s not being delusional, he did speak to us,” You nod your head at Haneul as she shoots you a questioning look, with Naeun clinging onto you harder. “He even helped us go out through the back door so we don’t end up all oily with the butter rink.” Naeun snorts, which catches all of you off guard and even herself, her eyes opening and locking onto something in the middle of the dance floor. Her gaze suddenly shifts, and before you know it she’s shoving her way through the crowd and heading towards her target.

“What is she—? Oh no, fuck,” You gasp while Haneul’s mouth hangs open when you both see Naeun heading toward Jeno, who’s dancing with someone at the moment, at full speed.

Haneul looks at you with contemplation. “I mean… it could turn out for the better?” She tries.

“Or she would wake up embarrassed as fuck for the next week or so,” You contemplate with her. Naeun is never the type to be aggressive, even when she's drunk. The most she’s done once was point a finger at you while she was angry and then look away to calm herself down.

But before you could relax back into your corner, you see her reach up for her earrings.

“Okay, fuck. Take this, I’ll be back,” Shoving your drink in Haneul’s hand, you make your way through the crowd and towards Naeun, rushing before she reaches her imminent doom. Jeno and his dancing partner are oblivious to the devil baby that Naeun takes the form of at the moment, which gives you hope that embarrassment can be evaded.

But then she full-body slams into Haechan.

“Woah,” He places his free hand on her shoulder, stopping her from tipping all the way to the right and losing her balance. The cup in his other hand now seems to be empty as its contents drip from both of their bodies, but Naeun is too drunk to notice and Haechan seems to have barely processed anything, seemingly working on autopilot at this point. You catch Naeun by the waist, your other hand going to her arm and slinging it around your shoulder to ground her, inspecting the mess she made. Your expression is apologetic when you make eye contact with Haechan, but he merely purses his lips and gestures putting Naeun’s other arm around himself for more support.

You mouth a ‘thank you’ and heave her body outside of the dance floor and towards the booth Haneul had brought you to earlier. Placing her on the couch, she slumps down and immediately whines when her hand makes contact with her torso on the descent.

“I’m all sticky now…” Her eyes are barely open as she says this, as the bass of the music dwindles in the semi-confines of the booth.

“That makes the two of us,” As Haechan says this, your eyes glance over his figure to see his once white button-up is now tinted blue and sticking to his body, outlining the faintest of lines in the dark of the club. You advert your eyes, not wanting to be caught gawking at him like a man in the Victorian era.

“I’m so sorry, thank you for helping,” You bite your lip momentarily, feeling mortified for ruining his shirt. He merely waves you off, “Don’t worry. I’m not too fussed about it,” His hand is placed at his hip as he says this, but his free hand gestures at your intoxicated friend. “But she seems to be the most bothered out of all of us,”

As if on cue, Naeun whines from her slumped position on the couches, shifting left and right in an attempt to gain some leverage into standing up, only to slip back down. She calls for your name and then squints at Haechan as if trying to remember his.

“Naeun, let’s call it a night, yeah?” You try telling her and you look around to find her bag that she’s left. She protests like a child in a grocery store, huffing as she droops further onto the couch, her cheek now pressed against the cushions.

“No, not until I bag the class clown's hot friend.” Your eyes widen as you feel your cheeks grow hot, trying your best to not glance over at Haechan and somewhat blow Naeun’s cover. You reach over and pat her cheeks lightly in a warning.

“Naeun, you’re blabbering nonsense now. Come on, let’s get going.”

“I’m not! I’m talking about Jeno, not nonsense. Haechan’s super hot friend Jeno,” Your whole body does a reset as she says this, shoulders going stiff while Naeun is oblivious to everything. She opens her eyes and locks them on something behind you, now pointing her finger and smiling giddily.

“Oh! Look, Haechan is here! Hey, do you think if I ask reallyyy nicely he’ll—” Her next words are muffled by your hand and a forced laugh. You cast a look at Haechan to see him trying and failing to contain a smile, as his hand pushes at the corner of his mouth. Upon making eye contact with you he quickly looks away and tries to retain himself from laughing. You sigh as you think about the number of things you’d have to run down to sober Naeun tomorrow about drunk Naeun’s antics right now. Gathering both of your things and shrugging your jacket on your friend, you quickly grab a tissue paper from the table and the eyeliner pen from Naeun’s bag, scribbling down your phone number.

Once Haechan has regained his composure, he’s met with your hand extended towards him holding a napkin. He picks it up from your hand as you wave it a bit impatiently before you quickly go to shoulder your friend up.

“This is my number, send me your details and I’ll cover for your shirt and the drink,” You grunt as you adjust Naeun’s deadweight before she gets the memo and tries standing on her two feet. “Thank you again for helping, uh, please ignore everything she just said. I know it’ll be a good payback prank but—”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Haechan’s chuckle resounds deep even in the loud bass of the club. “I wouldn’t pull anything on her for this.” He comes to Naeun’s opposite side, grabbing her arm and throwing it over his shoulder, heading towards the exit of the club without casting a glance back at you. You fumble with your belongings before quickly catching up, heels clicking as you ascend the stairs, your hands hovering around Naeun’s general direction, in fear that she’ll decide to fling herself off Haechan’s grip in an attempt of brushing her drunkenness off.

Outside of the club, cars whizz by the busy streets as people go for second and third rounds of drinks at this time of the night. Haechan lets Naeun sink into the ground as the latter pulls her weight, and you scramble towards her on the floor.

“Are you gonna hurl?” You ask. She hiccups.

“No,” And that’s all you needed to hear. Standing up, you fish out your phone and decide to call a cab back to your dorms, not wanting to carry your friend in the ten-minute walk back.

“Hey,” Haechan calls and you had momentarily forgotten that he was still here. You look up to see him scratching at his neck, mulling over his next words. “Uh, if you’d like, I didn’t drink anything and— I mean I was going to but then your friend just… What I’m saying is that I can drop you off?” The alcohol swimming in your brain may be playing with you, but you think you see a dust of pink settle into the boy’s cheek and neck.

“I mean, you’re Haneul’s friends, right? I remember you were her roommate at the dorms last year, so if you still live there I can drop you off,” He straightened his shoulder as he said this, now looking more confident about his offer.

You shift your weight, as you now actually get to take a good look at him. Under the club's dark and strobing lights, you could barely see his features far past his white button-up shirt and the light reflecting in his eyes. The street light illuminates the figure in front of you fully, allowing you to see the blue stain in his shirt, but also the tight fit of his jeans and the veins adorning his arms as he pushes up his sleeves at his elbows.

“Oh, thanks. But we should be okay. I’m sorry for the trouble.” You’re a bit flustered as you say this, your eyes flickering from his forearms to his face, not wanting to come off rude but also not being able to contain your monkey-sex brain from forming thoughts. You’re salivating over forearms.

“Okay…wait. Here,” He fishes out his phone from his pocket, typing in the phone number that you handed to him earlier in the night, calling you briefly. “Give me a text when you arrive home or if you need any help with warding off any weirdos.” You feel your stomach warm at his gesture, punching your name into his phone when he gives it to you. When you give it back to him, he mouths your name, before smiling at you.

“Will you be alright going alone?” He says as he helps you bring Naeun to a stand, the latter squeezing her eyes open and trying to regain balance and focus.

“Yup,” You pop, fixing your friend's bag on her shoulder. “She said she wasn’t gonna throw up, which means I have around twenty minutes until she changes her mind. She’s always the most self-aware pre-vom, so the walk back should be okay,” You don’t know why you’re reassuring him from getting kidnapped on your way back, but it feels nice to have someone care for your safety like this. Naeun starts marching away once you face her in the direction of your unit, and with a last wave goodbye, you turn your back to Haechan and the club.

[FRIDAY; 1:26 AM]

you: hii im home now

haechan: thats good

haechan: did she thrw up yet??

you: nah not yet

you: but we’re getting there you: t-minus three secs

haechan: remember to drink water b4 u sleep

you: okayy thank u for today :)

Telling Naeun how she almost embarrassed herself wasn’t as dreadful when she was fighting a hangover. She seemed to be more concerned about her water intake than almost causing a scene with Jeno at the club, complaining about the dryness of her skin.

“I can’t believe you let me go to sleep without telling me to wash my make-up off,” She says this as she adds her expensive serum to her face, grabbing a guasha tool and pressing the cool instrument against her temples, completely disregarding its original use. You continue brushing your teeth next to her against the sink, unable to reply with the foam in your mouth.

“You passed out on the toilet after throwing up, I almost threw up myself trying to bring you to your bed,” You say as you spit out your toothpaste.

“Wait, then how did I not cause a scene?”

“Haechan stopped you,” You reply seamlessly, drying your hands on the hand towel, oblivious to the bewildered stare Naeun throws your way.

“Haechan? Like, Jeno’s friend Haechan? The guy who put red food dye in the campus’ water which made everyone's mouth red?” You remember the initial shock of walking by the water fountain the day he did this, the blood red of the water being a stark contrast to the gloomy winter weather last year.

“Yeah, you even spilled his drink on him and everything.” You giggle at the groan that she lets out, covering her face with her hands.

“Oh my god, he’s gonna now plant a hidden alarm in my room like he did to this other guy in the dorm, or put plastic cockroaches in everything I own. I can’t believe I did that, was his shirt white?”

“Not after you spilt his neon blue drink,” You egg on even more. “But don’t worry, he said he won’t pull anything on you.” At that, her shoulders slump down in relief, as she leans against the doorframe of the bathroom.

“I’m safe,” She cheers, heading to the kitchen like nothing had happened. But being the drama queen that she is, she quickly turns to look back at you with a sharp gasp. “But you aren’t!”

You roll your eyes at her dramatics. “What do you mean? Why would I not be safe?” You disregard her sceptics as you pass by her and into the kitchen, opening the fridge to look for something to eat.

“He said that he wouldn’t do anything to me, but he didn’t say anything about you.” For someone whos nursing a hangover, it’s alarming to see her raise her voice and move as swiftly as she does around you, trying to get you as panicked as she is about her made-up scenario. “He can glitter bomb your bag, or hack your laptop so that whenever you have an assignment it doesn’t go through until a few seconds after it's due, or—” You cut your friend off by stuffing cereal in her mouth, stopping her mid-rant.

“Why would he do that to me? You have to know he only did those to relevant or well-known people, like Somi or Sunghoon. He wouldn’t do some grand prank on someone like me.” You turn to pour your chosen cereal into a bowl. “And if you say anything else, just know I’m ignoring you.”

“But—”

“I’m ignoring you,”

“You can’t do this to m—”

“Ignoring youuuu,”

You don’t hear of or see Haechan until Wednesday, when you’re walking to your second class of the day from the library.

Adjusting your items in your bag, you wouldn’t have noticed his presence at all until he had cleared his throat and brushed his shoulder lightly against yours.

“Oh,” Your eyes widen by reflex, taken aback by his sudden approach before they soften again at the smile adorning his face. “Hi,”

“Hey, you heading to class?” He small talks, and maybe you should spend less time with your roommate, because what should be a simple interaction between you and one of your peers is putting you on edge. Even when you had ignored Naeun’s dramatics about you being dunked on by the boy before you, you can’t deny the jittery feeling coursing through your body, as if your body is gearing in to go into fight-or-flight mode.

Not wanting to come off rude, you hum an agreement and attempt to cast a friendly glance at him, which doesn’t last long as you see him looking back at you.

“Did you, uh, have fun?” You attempt at making small talk, but Haechan looks at you quizically at your lack of context. “At the club, that night. Sorry for interrupting your night and ruining your shirt.” You can’t help but circle back, feeling apologetic when you recall the massive blue stain you had left him in.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. I hated that shirt anyway,” You gape at him as he says this, but quickly close your mouth shut and roll your eyes when you see the teasing glint flashing in his eyes. “And don’t worry about the prank thing too, I wouldn’t think about pranking a pretty girl like you,” You flush momentarily, but remember that you’re talking to ‘the biggest flirt on campus’. Haenul’s words, not yours.

“Good to know,” You egg him on, feeling your shoulders slump down as you grow more relaxed in his company. His jovial manner eases your thoughts of him coming after you, as his presence in front of you proves that he’s merely another student on your campus, trying to have fun and get by with crippling student debt.

Small talking a bit more as you head towards your tutorial, you revel in the drama he tells you that has occurred after you had left the club, remembering to list down the details to recall back to Naeun when you see her later. It’s when you’re at the door of your classroom when Haechan’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

“I have a call to take, but I’ll see you around?” He looks at you with a friendly smile, and it takes everything in you not to melt right there. You can see why some of the girls in your year are fond of him.

Waving him goodbye, you wait until he turns a corner before you go towards your class. You’re just a few minutes late, which explains why you’re met with the nearly closed door of the classroom. Readily, you grip the handle and creak open the door, eyes ready to scan around the room for a vacant spot for you to sit at. But before you could comprehend much, you’re suddenly soaked cold.

Turns out, there was a bucket of water placed on the top of the door, which explains why there was a slight gap instead of the door being closed like it usually is when your tutorial begins. No one in the class had a clue of why the bucket was there or thought to dismantle the bucket, not wanting to mess with the inevitable of something occurring. The door you had entered from wasn’t a main door to the room either, but instead, a back door that barely anyone used, so they were all equally shocked when you had chosen to walk through the obscure entry. Oblivious to the minute signs, you walked right into the classroom and were immediately met with water and a few cubes of ice.

You convey all of this to Naeun when she sees you damper than normal at the campus cafe, where you two usually meet during your free periods; you’re usually dryer than this, so it wasn’t hard for her to realise. She laughs, because is she truly Naeun if she doesn’t laugh at your demise, but then she falls silent, brows now furrowed.

You look at her in question. “Why do you look like you’re a shiver away? I’m the one who’s soaked.”

“Oh my god, Haechan did this to you,” She completely ignores your words, making her point with theatre-level dramatics.

You wave your hand at her, disregarding her theory. “He couldn’t have. He was walking with me when I was headed to class.”

“Exactly!” She exclaims, the hot coffee sloshing around in her cup as she almost jumps out of her seat. You flinch at the handling of the hot drink. “He walked with you to distract you from the fact that he’s gonna pull something. He must’ve set it up before and came around to slow you down. I mean come on,” She slams her cup down on the saucer. “A phone call right when you reach your class? Isn’t that too obvious?” And you hate to admit it, but Naeun does have a point. The main topic of your conversation was about him not pulling anything on you, only for you to walk into his trap just a few minutes later.

“Oh my god,” You slouch against the booth seat of the cafe, the information slowly settling in. “But—”

“Why you?”

“Why that prank?”

Now it’s Naeun’s turn to look at you quizically. “What?”

You feel incredulous now, heat building up inside you. “A fucking bucket of water? That’s it? Is that all he could think of; he’s the same person who filled a whole lecture room with ping-pong balls and tied his roommate's bed to the door with rope. Why was my prank so low-effort?” Naeun now realises the anger budding within you, as she looks around the cafe when your voice raises slightly. She splays her hands out in front of you in a lieu to calm you down, but you’re too warped in your fury to acknowledge her attempts.

“Water? Water? With like, four cubes of ice, and that’s it. Is that all I’m worth? He couldn’t put a glitter bomb in every second purse of mine, or change my ex’s contact name to yours, or anything.” You down your drink quickly, feeling too worked up to be cooped in the booth of the cafe. Naeun follows after, quickly gathering her things and putting her laptop and pens in her bag. You would feel bad for cutting your study session short, but she was barely studying, so the guilt dwindles just a bit. The anger overpowers it by a margin.

“Hey, what are you— don’t go and do something stupid.” Naeun tries as she loops her arm with yours.

You sigh when she squeezes your bicep, feeling the heat inside you cool down just a bit. “I’m not gonna do anything. If anything, if I act like it affected me and lash out at him, it would be exactly what he wants.”

“So you’re gonna act like nothing happened?” You nod your head with hesitation.

“Well, something along the lines,”

It is no surprise that Haechan thrives on attention. That’s the sole reason why he continues with these pranks, and it doesn’t take a psychology major to figure this one out. You did think about pulling something back on him, maybe like pantsing him in the middle of campus or putting some hair removal cream in his shampoo so he thinks he’s slowly balding, but even with how embarrassing and risky they are —you don’t want to leave a huge impact on him, just ruffling his feathers a bit, you know he’ll revel in the attention regardless. So you go for the next best thing.

Ignoring him.

It was a good idea when you and Naeun were walking and passed by his group of friends, who exchanged some pleasantries with you, your friend barely holding it together at Jeno’s eye smile. You held eye contact and waved at Renjun and Jeno, but barely spared a glance towards Haechan’s direction, and when you finally did, you just gave him a blank stare.

You think it worked when you saw the corner of his lip slip down from the smile he was sporting, and you almost felt bad for acting so cold to someone who didn’t do anything. Then you remind yourself that he did, in fact, do something. You thought it would be enough to do this just a few more times when you see him in the next few months of the semester, and you barely see him so it shouldn’t be too hard. But it’s like fate has a personal vendetta against you, because ever since that fateful night, you see him everywhere.

You barely remember him coming into the campus library, let alone the quiet corner that you huddle yourself in to get your grind on. So it’s safe to say that you were shocked when you feel a tap on your shoulder only to look up and see Haechan looming over you, a shy smile sporting his face at the prospect of reaching out to you.

“Hey,” He greets, his hand tugging at his earlobe as if shy. He looks at the seat opposite yours, as if wanting to sit there. You feel shame burn inside you when you don’t go to offer the seat, but you attempt to dwindle it when you remind yourself that you had to sit soaked throughout the entire class because participation is mandatory for your grades.

“How was your class the other day,” Your grip on your pen tightens as he says this, and you’re sure that the tilt in the corner of his mouth is to keep himself from laughing at you straight to your face. But you don’t give in, and instead nod your head with your eyebrows slightly raised, as if exasperated.

“It was okay,” You can only keep your replies short instead of ignoring him by keeping silent. His lingering form by your table and your avoidant gaze is already fueling the awkward air surrounding you, but you’re not giving in until he does.

And it seems like he’s not backing out anytime soon. “ Oh, I heard from Haneul that you’re planning on picking up cross-cultural management next session? I took that course last year so if you wanted some notes I can send them to you,” Fuck. How is he so good at this? His words make you think about your initial assumptions, and looking at his face, he does seem genuine about his offer, the tips of his ears now growing pink.

You soften a bit, ready to apologise to him for being overstrung, but then his gaze goes to something behind you, and now he covers his mouth with his palm as if stopping himself from bursting with laughter.

Confused, you turn around to see what was so hilarious for him to shift his demeanour so suddenly, only to be met with his friends, Jeno and Renjun, who go cartoonishly still at your attention. Of course, all of this is a running joke for him; sweetening up to you after the incident just so he can prove that no one can resist him.

Scoffing, you shut your laptop and gather your things, ignoring Haechan’s noise of surprise with your sudden movement, shoving everything in your bag and shouldering it. “I have to head out now, forgot that Naeun wanted to meet me before her class.” You make up an excuse as you look at your phone for the time. Naeun is taking a diligent afternoon nap at this very moment back in your dorm, completely oblivious to the trials you’re facing; but he doesn’t need to know your every move.

You almost slip out a ‘sorry’ as a reflex, but one glance back at the shocked faces of both Haechan and his subordinates brings you back, as you merely give him a tight smile before brushing past him.

“Oka— I’ll see you around!” Your shoulder bunches up at his volume as you hastily make your way out of his presence and the building.

Stepping into the radio broadcasting club room, you greet everyone present, apologising for being late.

“I got caught up on the way,” You take a seat at the table, putting your bag on the ground. Naeun, whos seated next to you, taps repeatedly at your bicep as a greeting, squealing away from you when you attempt to deliver a pinch to her skin.

“Did you get another bucket of water dunked on you?” Your senior Yubin comments, making everyone in the room laugh. You deliver a strained chuckle as Naeun casts a worried glance at you, but you wave her concern away

“Yubin’s just kidding, you’re not late either, we just sent Minseok to pick up the pizza boxes. Then after we’re done eating we can start brainstorming for the university mini carnival event.” Sohee softly informs, looking up from her clipboard to give you a kind smile.

“If anything, Jihoon’s the person we have to chastise. He texted saying he’ll be here in five minutes fifteen minutes ago.” Juyeon huffs at his phone screen.

As if on cue, the door opens and in comes Jihoon, but he isn’t alone.

“Sorry for coming in late, but look what I found along the way. Isn’t he so cute?” He coos at Haechan who stands beside him, looking at his friend incredulously, mockingly raising his hand. Ignoring Haechan’s disdain for his words, he pinches at his cheeks as he looks towards Yubin and Sohee. “Can we keep him? I always wanted a pet bear,”  

Naeun leans in towards you. “He’s more of a cocaine bear than a pet.” You smack at her as she whispers this to you, reminding her of restraint. “You’re not the best at whispering, babe” You tease. “Keep your tone down if you also don’t wanna get dunked on.”

You feel your heart melt when you see look towards Haechan’s direction and see his cheeks turning pink. It seems like you’re not the only one when you hear a chorus of dreamy mutterings echo throughout the room. He swats at Jihoon’s hand before tilting his head lightly at the two leaders of the club. “I wanted to make sure this devil spawn doesn’t make a mess every step he takes. I’ll head out now,” He starts to wave at everyone in the room but sounds of disapproval travel around, and before he knows it Haechan is being dragged by Jihoon and Juyeon to take a seat at the table. In the midst of all the commotion, he looks up and catches your gaze, making you still in your seat, before he’s handled once more to sit down.

“You’re more than welcome to join us,” Yubin beams, and not for long Minseok comes in with a mountain of pizza boxes in his grip.

You see the tip of his ears turn red (something you now notice that you see a lot) as he thanks your seniors. “I’ll be out after I steal your food,” He grins, and it takes much more than your initial willpower to look away.

So far, you were willing to categorise seeing Haechan manifesting everywhere as chance; maybe some sick and twisted form of coincidence. Because before all of this, if you were to get a dollar for every time you had encountered him throughout your whole degree, you would have six, maybe seven dollars if you count that one Zoom call. You had your doubts in the beginning when you saw him at the library and then at your club meeting, that he was doing all of this on purpose; but every other time you would see him in the hallways and lecture halls, you can’t chalk it up to anything but pure coincidence. Haechan is a uni student doing uni-student activities.

It takes you some time to get that idea jammed into your head, and you’ve nearly convinced yourself until today. A relaxing wind-down with one glass of wine turned into you finishing a whole bottle, which amplified your cravings for something sweet. Meeting in the breakfast aisle in your local grocer shouldn’t be something shocking, but you can’t wrap your head around the fact that he, too, decided to purchase cereal at 4 a.m. on a Tuesday.

“Nope,” You immediately put the two boxes of cereal you were choosing back on the shelf clumsily, looking around for the nearest exit in the opposite direction.

“Hey, wait—”

“No, nope. Not at all,” You’re now putting back all the drunk midnight cravings you’ve picked up, shoving them back in their designated areas on the shelf haphazardly as you make your way back out of the place. Your drunk and sleep-deprived brain can’t handle the fact that you’re supposed to interact with Haechan here, out of all the socially acceptable exchanges. You hear a shuffle behind you, but you can’t bring yourself to look back around, focusing entirely on exiting the store without tripping over anything.

Outside, the cold of the night engulfs you as you try to find your bearings, but you’re stopped from lumbering your way back to your dorm by a hand grabbing your arm.

“Y/n, slow down—”

“Stop manifesting yourself into my life,” You groan as you weakly prod away his hand, but his soberness gives him an upper hand, as he merely grabs your hand and holds you by your wrists instead.

“Manifesting? I’m not— actually, that’s not even important. Is there anyone with you tonight?” You groan lightly, still trying to free yourself from his grip. “Naeun?” He prods.

You sigh when you realise he’s not giving up anytime soon. “Naeun is at home, waiting for the Oreo cereals I was gonna impulse buy. Or maybe she’s dreaming about them? I don’t know,” You mumble, hands now lax in his grip, head tilted down. When you don’t hear a reply, you look up and are met with Haechan fishing his phone out of his pocket before pressing the dial button.

“Hi Jen, I’ll meet you at the dorms, it’s…” He glances at your slumped figure, and you’re not sure if the heat in your cheeks is due to the drinks or his attention on you. “A long story. I won’t be long.” Pocketing his phone after ending the call, he lets go of your wrists in favour of clasping his hand into yours, fingers interlocking as he starts heading in the direction of your dorms.

“What are you…” The dark of the night doesn’t help you navigate your way back, so you’re slightly grateful that Haechan is guiding you the way he is.

“Our dorm buildings aren’t far from one another. I can’t let you go home alone in this state,” He answers your question before you could even voice it, looking at you with a soft gaze. He chuckles when you go to look away from him every time he looks at you, squeezing the grip he has on your hand.

The walk is silent for the most part, but Haechan’s brows are furrowed as he thinks about something. Just as you start seeing the entrance of your dorm building, Haechan starts. “Why are you ignoring me?”

The heat in your cheeks disperses momentarily as a cold wave washes over you. The heat comes back when your wide eyes meet his questioning gaze, and you can’t help but squirm in place from being put on the spot.

“That’s cheating,” You slur with a frown. “Ask me when I’m sober. Or when you’re also a bottle of wine in.”

“A whole bottle? Jesus,” He laughs lightly as you groan, tightening his hold on your hand when you try to run away. The pull of his grip catches you off guard, as you stumble forward and closer to his figure. “I hope you can keep a promise, pretty girl.” He teases. Before you can retaliate, he plops you at the entry of your dorm building, swiping the access card to the building poking out of your front pocket and on the reader, before removing his hand from yours and dropping the card back in your possession. You already miss the warmth of his touch, but by the time you look back up, you’re only met with his retreating back.

“Hey, you’re just in time. Did you know that if I did a handstand for almost two minutes straight I can get myself to feel— Why are you empty-handed?” Naeun’s slurs have toned down since you last saw her, but it’s still there. You sigh as you plop yourself face down onto the couch.

“Naeun?” Your voice comes out muffled from the couch cushions, but Naeun hears you regardless, grunting a reply as she shuffles from her position on the floor, probably to find a not-empty bottle of alcohol.

“You know that saying about seducing the things that scare you?” You move your head out from the cushion halfway through your question, wanting to breathe more than to wallow for once.

“Ohhh, I know what you’re talking about,” She hiccups only once. “The fearing what you attract.”

“Attracting your fears.”

“Tomato-tomato. What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t think they were lying about it,” You had only possessed the fear of saying Haechan in the past few weeks, and now you only see him. If only you were that much fearful of money.

“Are you serious?” Naeun straightens her posture quickly. “I’m so scared of puppy play. Like, truly terrified. If someone handsome were to come up to me with a collar around their neck and a leash in their hand I would scream in fear,”

“Okay, I got it the first time.”

“I don’t think you understand, if they were all whiny about how they wanna be my pet and have me stroke the—”

“I get it!”

Although you had came to the epiphany that you’re attracting what you fear (you don’t know if the exaggerated gasp you let out when you walk by a bank or ATM helps, but it’s worth a try) you still can’t get yourself to not think of Haechan when you walk around campus.

But you don’t see him for the entire week after your last drunk interaction with him, and you’re not sure if you should be relieved or scared. So you choose to be both simultaneously, When you step into your corner of the library, your heart beats like you’ve run a marathon, only to be met with the usual vacantness it always was. You then go through your usual tasks until you have to a secondary location, and before you know it you’re nervous for simply wanting to walk to the bathroom.

“Am I going to constantly piss my pants every step I take on campus?” You complained over dinner with Naeun, as she constantly flips the meat on the grill to avoid burning it.

“If you keep thinking about him, then I think the answer is obvious.” She puts one slice on your plate before continuing. “But also maybe take this as a sign? He’s not popping up randomly anymore, which means that your life is like it was before.” Your reflex is to fight back for no other reason than to counteract your friend, but you cut yourself short when you realise she has a point. Ever since that fateful night, your life is now like it was before you had briefly acquainted with the man.

And so you’re not scared anymore. You even forget to double-check your surroundings to see if he’s anywhere in sight. Your life is as peaceful as a student's life can be. Of course, until it isn’t.

The university’s yearly fundraising festival had come around again, and the broadcasting club had decided to run a barbeque booth to raise their supply funds. You were assigned to take orders, while Juyeon and Yubin tended to the skewers. The heat of the booth mingles with the cool wind of the summer night, as you fan yourself with your hand, handling the money given to you as someone makes a new order.

“One order of chicken skewer please,” You raise your voice enough for Juyeon and Yubin to hear over the sizzling noise of the grill, as you find the exact change to give back to the girl ordering. As the next customer shuffles up, you’re too busy writing down the order on a slip of paper to spare them a glance (which, if this was a running business, would not be counted as good customer service).

“Welcome! Would you like to order our rice cake skewer? We have a special combo of two for the price of one,”

“How much is it for a few minutes of your company?” You feel your blood run cold upon hearing his voice. Looking up, you’re met with Haechan’s gaze your eyes locking in an unexpected encounter. Adorning a smile on his face, he looks past you and greets your club members before you can think of what to say.

“Hi Channie, how are you?” Yubin asks as she put a chicken skewer in a cup. Juyeon comes up next to you as he reaches out to pinch Haechan’s cheeks. “Hey there cutie, do you wanna do us a favour and buy everything from our booth?” He flutters his eyelashes just for good measure.

Haechan chuckles as he smacks his friend's hand away. “I’m the wrong person, only Chenle has enough money to do that. But can you do me a favour and let me steal your beloved club member?” You don’t realise that he’s talking about you, until you see his hand gesturing towards your figure as he looks at you. You’re about to protest, your brain already conjuring something up about how you have the heavy duty of being the booth’s designated accountant for the night, but Yubin is always a step ahead.

“Go ahead! Her turn was gonna end soon anyway, Sohee is gonna arrive in a few minutes with more of our supply,” She beams at you as she waves you two off. Before you can say anymore, Juyeon is shoving you out of the way, and you have no other choice but to trudge after him.

You walk side by side in silence, as the noise of the multiple booths being run by different clubs and societies encapsulate you two. You try your best to look at everything but him, even when you feel him stealing glances at your figure.

The silence doesn’t last long, though, as Haechan speaks up after looking around at the booths set up. “It’s quite stuffy with all these booths and people,” Not knowing what to say, you merely glance at him as you nod along. He purses his lips, before trying again.

“You must be feeling pretty warm, running the grill and managing everything at the booth. Jihoon used to complain all the time about how hot it got when he was in charge of these things." It's true you've been avoiding the grill area, so you’re not necessarily overheating, but does he deserve to know?

You hear him lightly huff when you just give a shrug and an ambiguous sound, but he doesn’t back down. “Do you want me to get you something to help you cool? Maybe ice cream or a can of coke.”  You're on the verge of giving your umpteenth non-verbal response of the evening, but when you look at the boy walking next to you, you’re met with a glare and a quick snarl of his lips. Faced with his insistence, you decide to speak up.

“I’m okay,” You thought this would appease him, but it seems like anything you could’ve done would eventually send him over the edge.  You feel his hand clasp onto your wrist before you’re being dragged away from the congested corridor of booths and into a secluded corner of the campus grounds. Even in the shade of the tree, the little light that slips through the lampost nearby highlights the frustration on Haechan’s face, both arrogance and apprehension flood your senses as you realize that his frustration might be a result of something you've done.

His voice is calm when he speaks, “Okay, did I do something to offend you?” He briefly closes his eyes and mentally counts a few numbers before opening them and looking back at you again, this time with a calmer yet stern expression. But rather than soothing your irritation, this seems to send you over the edge.

“I don’t know, did you?” You know you’re being childish, but that’s the point. You’re not planning on giving in until he apologises. By the look of confusion he’s sporting on his face, it doesn’t seem like it's gonna happen anytime soon.

Admittedly, he does look cute when confused, as his front teeth poke ever so slightly from his slightly gaped mouth, as if he’s about to say something but blanked at the last second. “I did do something?” At your scoff, he gathers himself. “Look, if I did do anything, I didn’t have any bad intentions. I wasn’t trying to hurt you or anything.” But this explanation only sends you over the edge.

Your hands drop from where you had crossed them in front of your chest, as you give Haechan an incredulous look. “No bad intentions? You didn’t want to hurt me? Are you serious? The fact that you even did it is terrible, but such a useless, no-brainer prank?” You’re too angry to notice Haechan’s shift of expression, as his scared grimace falls into another confused furrow of his brows.

“Like, a fucking bucket of water? Even a toddler can pull that. Couldn’t you have done something harder, more creative? Something with more effort, like, I don’t know, expired slime or a skateboard at the door. And I feel even more stupid because I believed you when you said you wouldn’t prank me, I even defended you when Naeun was going off about how I’d be your next target, and I turned out to be a fool, fuck. And for what? A lame bucket of water? Am I only worth that much?” You pause to catch a breather, hand splayed at your waist as you point the other accusingly at Haechan. He widens his eyes slightly, but then a smile falls on his face, and you’re sent spiralling.

“Are you smiling right now?” And at that, he starts laughing. Oh my god, you think, he’s a sociopath.

But Haechan starts laughing even harder, his body falling forward as he leans towards you, clutching your extended finger with his thumb and forefinger, shaking it around before folding over with laughter once more. You’re so, so confused, and now a bit scared that Haechan’s gonna keel over and fall from how hard he’s laughing.

But you don’t need to do such a thing, as he sobers up pretty quickly, straightening himself up and walking closer to you, while his hand now lightly holds your palm in his. You feel heat course through you, from the comfort of his hands holding yours and the sweet laughter that now rings in your head. You feel embarrassed that you bursted like that when you were so determined to make him fall to his knees and ask for your forgiveness. Instead, you’re left blushing like a schoolgirl who confessed with a heartfelt letter.

“Okay, okay. Wait, don’t go sullen now.” You look away, your cheeks growing hotter at being so easily read. Haechan grips onto your hand that was lightly resting on his palm, grabbing your attention.

“I swear on Renjun that I didn’t pull that prank on you. I didn’t even know that happened to you.” Your first instinct is to not believe him, but he’s looking earnestly into your eyes, and the gentle squeeze of his hand in yours makes you melt.

“I don’t know how I can prove it you that it wasn’t me, But I told you I wouldn’t do it and I always stick by my promises. I can maybe help you find who did it?” He offers this while smoothly clasping your hands together, fingers now lacing in yours. The intimate gesture sends a wave of flustered warmth through you, and his chuckle in response only confirms that your emotions are evident.

“Wah,” He sighs bumping his shoulder into yours, “What a relief, I thought you were rejecting me before I could even muster the courage to ask you out.”

“Wait, you—” You’re interrupted as Haechan starts striding forward and back into the busy atmosphere of the campus. “Haechan, slow down.” Your voice gets lost in the throng of the crowd, the bustle of people and echoes of activities happening making it hard for your plea to reach his ears. That, or he's simply ignoring you.

In a blink, you're situated back at your booth, the savoury scent of skewed chicken and rice cake wafting through your nose. Haechan releases your hand, and you both face Sohee, who's manning the cashier with a somewhat indifferent expression. “Hi, I just wanna return her,” Haechan says casually, his gaze shifting between you and Sohee.

Sohee regards the two of you with a blank stare, her expression unreadable. Haechan pats your shoulders twice before he waves the two of you goodbye. Sohee goes back to organising the money gained from tonight’s business, not sparing you another glance. “We have a no return and refund policy, especially with damaged goods.”

“Hey!”

You’re not surprised when you see Naeun in the lecture hall, but you are slightly taken aback when you see her situated just a few seats behind Renjun and Jeno. When you rock up next to her, you let your eyes do the talking as you glance back and forth between her and Jeno’s back, with the latter all the more oblivious to what’s happening.

She smacks at your leg before grabbing you and pulling to sit you down. “Shut up,”

“I didn’t even say anything?”

“Your empty brain echoes really badly when you conjure even a single thought,” You’re too shocked to retort back (how did she think of that so quickly?), so you simply go to unpack your bag. When you sit back from organising your items, your eyes fall on the door of the lecture room, and you’re surprised to see Haechan stride in. Even in the middle of summer, he has a leather jacket swinging from his fingers at his shoulder, sporting a white graphic t-shirt tucked into his black jeans. You’re about to say something to Naeun, maybe have her indulge in your admiration for a bit, only to be met with the same look you’re sporting but just aimed at the back of Jeno’s head.

When Jeno turns his head to greet his friend, Naeun quickly whips her head away, clearing her throat. You poked at her sides teasingly, as she squirms and smacks your hand away.

“I thought you were gonna ‘act chill’ around him?” Naeun huffs at your words.

“I am acting chill, I’m basically freezing.” You raise your brows at her. “There’s nothing chill about staring at the back of hi—”

Naeun smacks at your mouth when Renjun turns his face sideways, but the loud smack of skin garners more attention, as all three of them look back at you. As the other two merely glance briefly before going back, Haechan’s eyes stray longer while the corner of his mouth quirks up. You offer a simple wave and he flashes a smile before turning back around.

Naeun sighs as she releases her hand from your face, but quickly corners you with a glare. “What was that? Why was he smiling at you like that?” You’re grateful that she’s been practising her inner voice, as you know that Naeun from two weeks ago would have had the whole lecture hall aware of her words with how loud she whispers.

“Long story short, he didn’t do it, and I think …” You’re not sure if you should tell Naeun about the possible confession that occurred. Not because you don’t trust your friend but because you’re not even sure if that could be counted as a confession.

“How are you so sure? Maybe he said it to get on your good side,” Naeun stares daggers at the back of Haechan’s head, but her gaze quickly softens when Jeno plays with his hair.

“I don’t know,” You confess, “He said he didn’t do it, and I trust him.” Naeun surveys your expression for a bit with a glare, before nodding her head in acceptance.

“Alright, I trust your trust in him. But if he ever pulls anything…” You pinch your friend's cheek in gratitude. “I know, you’ll have my back.”

“Speaking of back, did you see Jeno’s when he stretched? It’s okay if you haven’t he’ll do it again when we're a third through the lecture.” You slowly pat her shoulders, speechless once more as you sigh and try to tune her out for the rest of the lecture.

read part two here !!

[hyunebunx]

maybe it's not our fault - chapter 02

── synopsis: after a nasty breakup that’s left you completely shattered, you’re set on giving up on love forever. That is until, in a surprising turn of events, your respective best friends start dating and one of their main goals is to restore the peace in your broken relationship. Will their plan succeed? Will they manage to play cupid and get you and your high school sweetheart back together, or will it all backfire and result in the end of their own love story?

There is only one way to find out. If only your beloved’s heart wasn’t already broken beyond repair…

╰─▸ ❝ pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

╰─▸ ❝ content: exes to lovers, angst, mutual pining, fluff, suggestive themes, drama and heartbreak, jock!hyunjin who is captain of the uni's football team + dance major!hyunjin, college au, lack of communication.

╰─▸ ❝ word count: 13k

╰─▸ ❝ chapter 3

a/n: this took me forever i'm so sorry :((( but writer's block has been an actual bitch. there's no warnings for this chapter, just some making out and a bunch of cursing!! it's a longer one, so get comfy before reading and enjoy <3<3 please don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts!

You weren’t the most extroverted person out there but you did love attending a good party, especially one arranged by your best friends. Chris and Jisung along with Changbin, the third member of their music group, were notorious for throwing the best parties around campus, extravagant, with good booze, music, and unmatchable atmosphere.

They were in charge of throwing the first party of the year, which was taking place tonight, a mere week after school started. This particular party was a yearly event, a shared effort from both the music and dance departments, which longed for more opportunities to collaborate.

You remember the first time you attended it like it was yesterday.

Wide eyed and oh so excited about experiencing the full university package, with your newfound independence and your friends by your side, this party was the biggest letdown of the year. Thrown at a random fraternity on campus, it was a proper snooze fest, with a barely working disco ball that looked like it could collapse any moment, and a few balloons that were supposed to make the surroundings look less depressing. Last minute decorations the seniors decided to throw together so the freshmen wouldn’t complain about their lack of involvement and get them in trouble with the deans.

It sucked – plain and simple, and that’s when you decided to never attend this party for as long as you still had to set foot on this campus. That is until Changbin came up with a great plan to help the disinterested seniors and have some fun.

3racha would cover all the expenses, from drinks, music, and venue, as long as they were given liberty to do as they pleased, after promising to make this event the talk of campus and have the other departments turn green with envy. As expected, the two representatives were more than happy to comply, agreeing eagerly. Less work for them meant another responsibility lifted off their shoulders and more time to breathe and prepare for graduation without having to think about any snot-nosed juniors.

In their care, the embarrassing event that was only ever attended by naïve freshmen who didn’t know any better blossomed into the most anticipated day of the year not only by the two departments but by several others from the other side of the campus. Last year’s party exceeded all expectations, so legendary that it was still talked about throughout the whole year, the people who attended bragging about it to anyone who’d listen. And you had to agree – they managed to throw a party straight out of a scene from The Great Gatsby, with a theme oh so very fitting for the occasion.

Yes, theme, because they deemed it necessary for some unknown reason. Artsy people were strange like that, Seohyun often said. All you could do was agree and try not to take offense for being one of these people.

Anyway, everyone was excited, restlessly counting down the days until the three musketeers would return to the party scene and offer them a night to remember. Everyone but you.

“So, what’s the theme for this year?” Seohyun asks, lounging on the couch with a small bag of gummy bears by her side. The four of you were currently next door, at Jisung and Chris’ place, watching the guys run around to get ready for their party. They were the hosts, after all, it was normal to arrive as fashionably late as possible.

“The 70’s!” Jisung yells from the bathroom, still struggling with his makeup. Chris hasn’t come out of his room yet.

Seohyun shoots you an unimpressed look, stealing some of your chips. “Isn’t this just a glorified Halloween party?”

You hear him mumble under his breath, most likely rolling his eyes in exasperation before he appears before you with a slight pout on his full lips. “A little help, please?”

He was dressed in a silky, sequin shirt with matching golden boots, partially obscured by black, bell bottom pants that fitted him to perfection. In his hand is an eyeliner pen you grab to help with his predicament.

“Sit, Ji.”

Jisung nods and takes a seat on the couch’s arm, by Seohyun’s feet, so you can gently start applying his eyeliner.

“For your information, everyone loves our parties and how fun having a theme makes them.” His eyes are closed but as expected, he’s not letting Seohyun have the last word.

She snorts, throwing a chip at his back. “I don’t.”

“Because you’ve never been to one nor were you ever invited.” He huffs, trying to keep still so you won’t mess up.

“Don’t be mean.” You squeeze the bridge of his nose in warning, before glaring in Seohyun’s direction, the statement meant for them both. “I asked her to come with, last year.”

Not like she needed an invitation to begin with. What started as an event only for the two departments, quickly became a party for the whole campus once 3racha took the reins. Everyone was more than welcome to come and have fun, create memories, and live the full university experience.

Then you step back to examine your work, nodding with a satisfied smile. “Done.”

Opening his eyes, Jisung walks back to the bathroom to check it out, knowing how peculiar he could be. He wasn’t a big makeup guy, only wearing any when absolutely necessary, for performances and whatnot, so him requesting your help was a big deal. It seemed he was going all out for tonight’s theme, wanting to stand out as much as possible.

Guess your best friend was officially on the market again. About time, there were tens of girls waiting in line for his attention.

“Oh, this is sick!” He comes back grinning, the smudged black liner framing his eyes beautifully and bringing out their depth in true, rockstar fashion. “Thanks, bug!”

You’re engulfed in a hug and can’t help but giggle as he sways your body from side to side before letting go.

“Glitter?” You tease, pointing behind him to your makeup bag.

“Fuck no.”

You chuckle while Seohyun laughs, getting comfier on the couch almost like she owns the place. Nobody minded, it was a usual occurrence at this point – you were past feeling shy and uncomfortable around each other.

Walking over, Jisung moves her feet out of the way before sitting down and letting them fall back over his lap, nonchalantly. “If you were invited, why didn’t you come?”

She shrugs, plopping another gummy into her mouth. “I was on that trip with Mark and his stupid friends, remember?”

Jisung makes a face and gags, earning a foot over the shoulder, that is meant to resemble a slap, before they both start laughing.

Truth be told, you’ve always thought your two best friends would make a cute couple. Despite appearances, they did go well together in the way that what one lacked, the other made up for, completing one another. Even so, you’ve accepted reality a long time ago. Them being more than each other’s pain in the ass was never going to happen.

Just as you squeeze yourself between Jisung and the couch, his bulky arms quickly moving to bring you closer and accommodate your body as Seohyun sits up to make room, Chris finally steps out of his bedroom in a cloud of expensive cologne that’s almost visible to the naked eye.

“Look who’s finally ready. I was about to put together an intervention and break that door down.” Jisung smirks, leaning back on the couch.

Chris rolls his eyes but otherwise doesn’t respond, dusting imaginary dirt off his new clothes. You helped him pick out an outfit, so now he was wearing a leisure suit, black, with the only pop of color being from the bold, flowery shirt that had the first three buttons open, exposing his collarbones and chest. In true 70s fashion, he had a heavy gold chain around his neck serving as the only accessory. Thank heavens he retired the obnoxious sunglasses.

“Oh my god, you look great!” You exclaim, beaming from ear to ear.

“Thanks to you.” He smiles, soft and gentle before running a hand through his brown curls he finally decided to not straighten.

On your right, Jisung gently elbows your side to get your attention. “But what about me?”

“Stop fishing for compliments.” Seohyun groans, standing up to walk to the kitchen for more snacks. “You already know you’re pretty.”

You chuckle, watching the exchange with interest while Chris begins putting on his matching dress shoes.

“So, you think I’m pretty?” Jisung calls after her, smirking a little too widely.

“Pretty ugly!”

The bickering starts and you ignore them in favor of walking in the opposite direction, to join Chris who’s disappeared in his room once again.

He’s by the dresser, slipping on a golden watch before checking his hair in the mirror to make sure it's tousled to his liking.

Before you can even open your mouth, he’s already turned to you. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? There’s still time for you to get ready.”

You sigh, face falling briefly as your eyes look at anything but him. “I’m sure. Thanks for checking in, though.“

“It’s going to be fun.” He adds, hand landing on your elbow in his effort to convince you. Not like you usually needed convincing, especially if he were to stay by your side the whole night like you knew he would.

You just didn’t feel like it. You haven’t been in the mood to party in a long time, and even though he insisted this was the perfect opportunity to change that, rediscover the joy such an event can bring – your stand on it didn’t budge.

“I don’t doubt it.” You force a smile, not wanting to worry him or plant any ideas in his head. Overprotective was his middle name, so if he were to sense your true emotions even for a second, catch a glimpse of your melancholy, the whole thing would be called off. He truly didn’t care about this as much as he cared about you.

“You should.” His eyes soften, lips settling into a pout that almost has laughter bubbling out of you. “You know parties aren’t as fun for me whenever you’re not there.”

A snort escapes you, gaze trailing to the framed photo of you two back in high school that’s right next to the one you took in the same spot, in his backyard in Australia, four years later this summer. “You’ll survive, Chrissy. I’ll be with you in spirit.”

He looks like he has more to say, words ready to jump out of his mouth and latch onto you so you can finally come to your senses. But Chris chooses to remain silent, sighing like he couldn’t be bothered to put in any more effort to convince you to join him tonight.

“If you change your mind, you know where we are.” He smiles, reaching up to ruffle your hair.

For once, you don’t swat his hand away, and he chuckles victoriously. You won’t change your mind, but it’s nice to know your presence is wanted nonetheless.

As you exit his bedroom, Jisung is halfway out the door, struggling to put on a jacket while Seohyun laughs at him from her place on the couch.

“Finally!” He exclaims, reaching for his keys. “Are you ready to go? Changbin texted me he’s already there.”

Chris nods, waving goodbye to you and Seohyun before walking over to join Jisung in the hallway. “You’ll melt if you keep that jacket on.”

“It’s part of my outfit, I’ll be fine.”

You watch them from the doorway, one more excited than the other as they can barely sit still while waiting for the elevator. As the doors open with a quiet ‘ding’, Jisung makes to step inside before stopping in his tracks. Without a word, he rushes to pull you into a tight hug, lucky Chris is preventing the doors from closing as he takes his sweet time.

“Call me if you need anything, bug!” He pulls away, grinning, and you already miss his warmth. “I’ll come running.”

The smile you give him in return is genuine, even though you know if you were to call, his tipsy self wouldn’t even be able to hear his phone go off. And who would amidst all the craziness a party entrails? He was there to have fun, not worry about your depressing, bed-rotting self.

“Alright, Ji.” You laugh as he reaches to pinch your cheek before he’s off, barely making it into the elevator with all limbs intact as he chooses to stick his hand out to wave goodbye until the doors close.

When you return to the living room, you’re surprised to see Seohyun on her feet and ready to go.

“Shall we go back?” She yawns, stretching her arms over her head. “They’re all out of snacks and I miss my bed.”

You raise a brow, surprised she was taping out so soon. Seohyun was a party animal; she had no problem staying awake till the sun was up, dancing the night away in one of her skin-tight, and sparkling dresses. Still, you hold the front door open. “It’s only 10 pm.”

“Your point?” As she passes you, Seohyun wiggles her eyebrows. “Unless you want to host our own little private party?”

You roll your eyes with a laugh, pushing past her as she begins cackling, the sound echoing through the big hallway that separates the two apartments. The floor only had three apartments, but your other neighbor was never home, for some unknown reason. His whereabouts were an intriguing subject for all of your friends, often coming up with all sorts of theories to explain his absence.

The latest one implied he was some sort of secret agent on a very dangerous mission, renting an apartment so close to the biggest university in the city in the hopes of blending in and not raising any suspicion.

“I’m picking the movie tonight!” Seohyun runs to the couch, her natural habitat and favorite place in the apartment, before you can even close the door. Guess that means you’ll either hide the whole time, not even being able to watch the gruesome horror, or you’ll cry your eyes out at another rerun of ‘The Notebook’.

Thirty minutes later, the lights have been turned down low, the mood lap in the corner engulfing your corner of the room in the warmest shades of orange meant to relax your tired eyes. With snacks all around you, scattered on the small coffee table, ranging from pizza to chips and fizzy drinks, you and Seohyun are sitting up on the couch, under the same fluffy blanket she adored so much.

You’re busy brushing her long hair, wearing a refreshing face mask while she tries to navigate eating another pizza slice without ruining hers when low buzzing gets your attention.

“He’s still calling?” You ask after glancing at her phone next to you, the caller ID not even phasing her. Sometimes you wish you could be as nonchalant until you remember it’s all a façade, most of the time, her poor heart as fragile and sensitive as yours.

“Oh, yeah. He’s been very consistent.” She shrugs, chewing before adding. “Which is a first because he was never consistent in his relationship with me.”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, hands gentle while untangling her hair. “I thought you broke it off a while ago?”

Seohyun nods, bringing her knees to her chest while ’13 Going on 30’ plays quietly in the background, a must on your girls’ nights. “I did. He thought I was joking.”

A moment of silence stretches between you; not uncomfortable, but needed for her words to sink in and for you to realize the type of guy she has been investing her precious time and energy into.

“What a fucking asshole.” You finally scoff, shaking your head.

“Tell me about it.” She sighs, wiping her oily fingers on a nearby napkin

“I have been telling you about it.” You point out, but not in a condescending way, your hands stopping momentarily. “Everyone has. You just pretended not to hear us.”

Seohyun is quiet, and you can’t help but start wondering if you’ve upset her somehow. That wasn’t your intention, it could never be. You meant what you said but maybe you could work on your delivery?

Just as you move to reach for her, Seohyun speaks softly.

“Sorry.”

One of your arms wraps around her front from behind, bringing her body close in a comforting embrace she relaxes into immediately.

“What if it’s me? What if I’m the problem?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, fiddling with her fingers in the way she does when she’s stressed or worried about something, a habit you’ve taken notice of years ago.

“Nonsense.” You shake your head, not even wanting to hear about it. In your eyes, she was perfect, the girl who had showered you with kindness and compassion even before getting as close as you were now. Seohyun was a good person before she was anything else, her heart made of gold that sparkled under the sun, and when she was loved truthfully. Unfortunately, she hasn’t yet met the man able to bring forth her shine.

“No, I’m serious.” She turns to look at you over her shoulder while pulling away from the embrace, all of the confidence she carried herself with suddenly nowhere to be seen, the sadness in her eyes making her resemble a lost child. “What is it about me that discourages guys from commitment?”

“Seo,” your eyes soften, heart shattering for her, “there’s nothing wrong with you. It’s all the emotionally unavailable guys you keep picking and expecting commitment from.”

“So, technically, it’s still me.”

You shake your head, gently grasping her hands into yours while looking straight into her dull, hazel eyes. “Not at all. You just want to be loved.”

“I’m so desperate for it, Y/n.” She almost sobs, her distress visible even from a mile away as her hands go limp in your hold. “I keep rushing into all of these relationships, falling for every sweet word and empty promise because I’m afraid I’ll end up alone.”

“End up alone?” Now you’re confused, searching her face for any clues that might fill you in about her sudden, unreasonable worry. “Babe, you have your whole life ahead of you, what are you even saying?”

She shakes her head, almost like not wanting to hear you. “Everyone has at least one significant, fairytale-like romance in university. Look at me, three years in and all I’ve got under my belt is a few hookups and a devastating ex situationship that still haunts me.”

“And who says those aren’t significant?”

“Because I’m not going to end up marrying Mark, or any of the other guys whose names I can’t even recall!”

Her sudden outburst leaves room for silence to sneak in and try to comfort the two wounded hearts, just as you slowly move to remove both of the facemasks that were almost dry by now, surely making her as uncomfortable as you felt. It all clicks in your mind, and you suddenly realize this is something she’s been mulling over for some time now, eating away at her mind and making her feel incapable of the simplest task of them all. Love.

Seohyun is no longer looking at you, head low and gaze trained on her manicured fingers while she picks apart a loose thread from the blanket.

Just then, her phone buzzes again and you reach for it before she can react, rejecting the call and setting it face down on the table, right next to yours.

“I get it.” Your voice is soft, quiet as if not to disturb her, the tv for once louder than either of you. “You feel like you’re running out of time, but Seo, love doesn’t have an expiration date. Nobody says you have to find the love of your life by the time you’re 25, just to get married by 30 like most movies portray.”

Fresh faced, her eyes follow your finger toward the screen just in time to catch the beginning of Jenna’s love confession, an emotional scene you’ve both cried watching countless times.

“I’ve never been in love.” She confesses quietly, fixing her headband. “And I’m sorry for bringing this up right now, but it’s been driving me insane for weeks.”

You nod to show you’re listening to her every word, reaching for the remote to pause the movie.

With hopeful eyes and still enough sadness in her voice to betray her current state of mind, Seohyun dares to enquire. “How is it? How does being in love feel like?”

Instantly, you feel like you’ve been kicked in the stomach, all the air disappearing from your lungs at the snap of fingers. You’re overwhelmed as memories come rushing back, your tragic love story playing from beginning to end in a neatly made montage that would put most romance movies to shame. You remember everything, almost every second spent by your beloved’s side, from your first meeting to your first date, kiss, the first time you made love and the first time you felt it too.

You now realize that falling for Hyunjin was inevitable – you were doomed from the moment those doe eyes bored into yours, softening as he smiled in greeting. Even though you were mere kids, your feelings have always been real, even if the adults claimed you were too young for them. The love was always there, first shaped platonically but soon evolving into a heart fluttering romance that not many were lucky enough to experience for as long as they lived.

And even though it now hurts and brings you sorrow, the love was still here, even if it was reduced to a mere flicker that struggled to hang on as water kept being splashed on the flame.

But with a deep inhale that brings some of the air back, you satisfy your best friend’s curiosity. “Being in love is…the best and the worst thing that has happened to me. Simultaneously.”

Seohyun looks at you in wonder, some light returning to her pretty eyes, long flashes kissing her cheekbones with every blink as if they too, tried to comfort her. Then, without warning, she bursts out laughing, collapsing on the other end of the couch, away from you.

“You know what? I’m done, I don’t want to experience love anymore. I’m good.” Even though she’s laughing, there’s no amusement present in her tone.

You can’t help but chuckle, the joy not quite reaching your heart either. “No-uh, too late. Love will find you when you least expect it and then you’ll come running to say I was right!”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.” You clarify, reaching to pinch the headband off her forehead before letting it bounce back to smack her lightly, to which she complains loudly, kicking her feet to get you off the couch.

Soon, genuine laughter welcomes itself into your home once again, air lighter as the seriousness of the moment wears off.

You allow the movie to come to an end, the happily ever after that always has flowers blooming into your heart before standing up for more snacks, and Seohyun’s small bag of nail polish just as the credits start rolling.

Her head pops from behind the couch, body still lounging about. “Will you marry me if we’re both still single by 30?”

“Nope.”

“Gee, thanks Y/n. You’re such a great friend!”

Safe to say, your night ended on a much brighter note than it began.

Until it all came crashing back down the following morning.

You’re awakened by a commotion, an actual crash that startles you out of deep slumber, body jolting among the many pillows and stuffed animals that kept you company during the night. Sitting up, you rub your eyes before reaching for your phone to check the time, confused to see it’s no earlier than 6:55 am. No sunray dared to peek through the thick curtains so you were still a little disoriented, listening to every sound that could tell you exactly what had happened.

Seohyun was not a morning person. Did she somehow knock over a lamp in her sleep? Because the possibility of her being awake at this hour, especially after the late night you’ve had, was nonexistent.

When no other sound follows, you decide to succumb to dreamland once again, head buried in the big, purple teddy bear you got as a birthday present last year. You’re almost there, fully asleep until the sound of the front door opening and closing snaps you out of it faster than lightening.

What exactly was going on in your apartment, at 7 am on a Saturday?

With newfound vigor, you yank the blanket off of you and quickly get out of bed, abandoning your fluffy shoes in your hurry to the living room. Just then, the buzzing of your phone pulls you back, like an invisible force controlling your legs, a puppet on a string compelled to check that out before whatever was happening outside.

You take a seat at the edge of your bed, lounging after the device in wonder. Who could be texting you at this hour?

Swiping your finger over the screen, you’re greeted by numerous notifications that have silently gone off during the night, most from an app you barely use. Twitter. Ignoring them for the time being, you tap a message that has come earlier, from one of the friends you have made in class. Her text only confuses you further as the few words that greet you are only urging you to check the previously mentioned app, followed by one too many worried emojis.

Curiosity peaked, you finally do as she says, opening the app to see what exactly has prompted such a reaction out of the usual calm woman. Your timeline doesn’t look any different, full of 3racha’s fans going crazy over the new pics, and the exclusive music that was apparently played last night at the party. You manage their business account, so the sight was nothing unusual. You then switch to your personal account and are surprised to see the little bell red with notifications. When you tap it, you see numerous accounts, people you don’t even know, tagging you in their tweets and random posts, suddenly desperate to reach you.

You were not popular, especially compared to Chris and Jisung, despite managing their account and being seen with them almost every day. So, this sudden influx of followers and messages made no sense, no one was eager enough to connect with you when they could simply go straight to them.

Confused and very intrigued, you decide to open a random message, tapping on an account you have seen floating around your timeline, often talking about 3racha and their music. The difference between this account and the others was that you knew the person behind it personally, a fellow student who shared her major with Seohyun.

Once her direct message loads, you almost drop your phone right on the cold, wooden floor. Because what you see, besides her worried and confused messages, is a photo. One that was taken last year, at the same party you couldn’t bring yourself to attend this year.

A picture of you and Hyunjin, embracing on the dance floor, in your ridiculous clothing while the other partygoers have created room for you to have your moment, almost like you were a couple having your first dance at your wedding.

Tears well up in your eyes in an instant, heart thumping in your chest painfully, with a force that almost creates a hole in your body, one big enough for the organ to escape and run off. Despite the early hour and the exhaustion slowing down your response time, this moment plays in your mind like a vivid memory, transporting you back in time with scary ease.

The music was too loud and obnoxious for a moment that was supposed to be romantic and switch things up. The DJ decided to play a slow song, perfect to get the couples in the mood for dancing and smooching up on their beloved, giving everyone the opportunity to make their move and possibly find love tonight. You, on the other hand, didn’t need any of that.

Your lover was already all over you, holding your body close while leading you around the dancefloor like the expert he was, only parting when he decided to twirl you around, your delighted laughter like music to his ears.

You were waltzing, or were supposed to if only your heels hadn’t stepped on Hyunjin’s feet one too many times. He claimed it was no big deal, laughing from ear to ear, drunk on the happiness he only felt while in your presence.

So now, you were glued to the same spot, only your bodies swaying from side to side, guided by Hyunjin’s big hands on your hips.

“I’m dizzy.” You giggle into his ear, trying to make yourself heard over the loud music.

Hyunjin laughs in response, looking even more handsome than usual in his grey suit and slicked-back hair, pulling away slightly to look into your eyes. “From what? Did you drink too much?”

You shake your head, accidentally stepping on his right foot. Again. “The music is too loud. It’s hurting my brain.”

Without a word, you see his eyes begin searching around for something, the absence of his gaze and attention making you feel an indescribable hint of loneliness. He suddenly signals towards the DJ, and the person he’s managed to find in the crowd, none other than Chris, nods and walks off to the guy.

When his smile finds you again, the music along with the lighting has been turned down, creating the perfect atmosphere for all the couples around.

“How about now? Is your head better?”

You laugh, heart squeezing in your chest at the thoughtful gesture as you hug him closer, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “You’re so crazy, Hyun.”

“Only for you. Anyone would go crazy over you.” He barely manages to finish his sentence when your heel finds his foot again. This time, he hisses and before you know it, both of your feet are off the ground as he spins you around, laughing together before you’re put down, now facing the DJ booth and your friends by his side. Chris is having the time of his life, arms around a random girl as he laughs at whatever the DJ has said, dancing while simultaneously having a conversation. Jisung is doing shots with Changbin and Minho, a small crowd cheering them on, away in their own little world, unaware of what everyone else is doing.

Your hands come together at the back of his neck, eyes tearing from the scene to give him your undivided attention. “Well, I don’t want anyone else. Just you.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes intense and full of love, sparkling even in the dim lighting. His arms circle your waist, and you’re suddenly chest to chest, glued together as he leans down to speak over your lips. “You have me. You’ll always have me.”

“Always?” You can’t help yourself from pecking his lips once he nods, sure this is the happiest moment of your life. Your highs have always taken place in his arms, after all. “You’ll continue being mine even with my two left feet?”

This time, he cackles, emotions heightened by the alcohol he has consumed tonight. “You’re lucky I’m a good enough dancer for the both of us.”

“But what if I step on your feet at our wedding?”

“We’ll say it’s part of the choreography. Nobody would dare disagree with me anyway.”

You’re two fools in love, staring into each other’s eyes with such intensity that the world could be crumbling around you and neither would notice. Not being able to hold himself back any longer, Hyunjin’s lips find yours in a deep, passionate kiss that wouldn’t normally be deemed appropriate in public. But this was a party, and everyone was already too drunk off their asses to care, especially the couples that were dry-humping each other around you.

No wandering hands or harsh movements, just you two in the middle of the dancefloor, kissing like you’re the main characters in a fairytale. Your tongue finds his, and his grip on your waist tightens in warning. Even with the alcohol in his system, Hyunjin still had his wits about him – a statement that couldn’t be made about you.

So, he pulls back before you can rope him into one of your schemes, with a little more difficulty than he’d like to admit, regretting his choice instantly when you continue pecking his lips repeatedly, needing to feel him close.

One of his arms releases you just so his hand can cup your cheek lovingly, stopping you in your tracks.

“I love you.” You say against his lips, and his smile is so sincere and full of love that it almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I know.”

You blink, his words downing on you a moment later as your eyes widen, flabbergasted. “You know?!”

Hyunjin chuckles, smirking, pulling you right back to his lips when you make to move away, displeased with his answer. “I mean, after all of these years, I’d be a pretty shitty boyfriend to not know, right?”

“You suck.” He kisses you right after you respond with an eye roll, deepening the kiss instantly, no longer caring about where you are.

“I love you too.”

One of the improvements 3racha brought to the party was a personal photographer, in charge of capturing the essence of the party in as many photos as he could, and that of course included the drunk students and their antics.

You were given a copy of this photo last year, a present from Chris who has asked the photographer himself to capture the sweet moment.

It was later framed and placed on your nightstand. Now, you were pretty sure the broken glass tore it beyond repair, so you didn’t dare pick it up from its place in the corner of the room, thankful it was face down and away from you.

What’s worse is that apparently, this photo has been spread around like wildfire, piquing everyone in attendance’s interest, which opened a discussion you could barely have with your best friends.

Why did you and Hyunjin break up?

With a heavy heart, you then make your way through all the messages and mentions, all talking about the mysterious couple in the photo, about how cute they were, and how they hoped they were still together. Until someone recognized you both and the tone of the conversation changed. Now, most people were tagging you and Hyunjin, almost like they were entitled to know why or how your relationship ended.

Some of the messages you received were nasty, and downright disrespectful, plainly asking you if they could hit on Hyunjin now that he was single. If he was good in bed, and if you’d mind if they took a spin to try him out. Or, if he was as big as he looked.

Fucking deranged people, all obviously drunk, treating you and him like nothing more than means of entertainment. Hyunjin was the captain of SNU’s most popular sports team, he was arguably the most popular student on campus. Everyone knew of him. But this was not normal, nor okay.

Since when doing what you loved came with the price of having your privacy invaded, reduced to nothing more than a piece of meat?

You were not celebrities, but normal students just like everyone around. Why was your relationship coming to an end suddenly the talk of the whole campus? Hot gossip nobody could help but discuss like people didn’t break up or get together on a daily basis around here.

What the hell was going on? But most importantly, what the fuck happened at last night’s party for this picture to suddenly emerge, seemingly out of nowhere?

When you manage to bring yourself out of your room, almost an hour later, the sight that greets you in the kitchen doesn’t surprise you one bit.

“So, you were the ones making all of that noise?”

Three heads snap in your direction in an instant, unable to hide their surprise at seeing you awake at this hour. Almost like this wasn’t your house, and they weren’t currently having some sort of gossip sesh without you, first thing in the morning.

“I’m so sorry.” Seohyun is the first to talk, the braid you fixed for her last night all messy and almost undone, stepping closer. “That was me, I stumbled on my way out the bedroom…” she suddenly trails off, eyes wide. “Babe…are you crying?”

You pat your cheeks, not expecting to find them wet, the tears rolling down your face at an alarming pace. Sharing a concerned look, Chris and Jisung hurry to you, with the latter being faster and pulling you into a tight hug that never fails to make you feel safe. Once your face hits his chest, the sobbing begins and both Seohyun and Chris circle you protectively, joining in on the hug as best as they could.

“You already saw everything, didn’t you?” Seohyun asks softly, almost like she’s talking to a frightened child. When you manage to nod in response, Jisung tenses beneath you.

“Fuck.”

“I’m sorry.” Your heart breaks at the tone of Chris’ voice, and you reach out to squeeze his hand in comfort. This was not any of their faults. You being sensitive and breaking down because of a simple picture and some weird comments didn’t have anything to do with them.

“Our department posted pictures from last year, a throwback to the first party we threw. By the time I realized the girl also posted the picture of you two, it was already flooding my timeline and messages.”

“We tried to remove it from your timeline.” Jisung chimes in when you finally calm down, gently wiping your eyes as you realize he’s still wearing the clothes from last night. “We were so focused on it that we forgot about all the weirdos tagging you and shit. I feel fucking terrible, bug, I’m so sorry.”

“This isn’t your fault.” You croak out, voice raspy from all the crying. Losing the love of your life was still a sensitive topic, yet you didn’t expect being reminded of your happier times to still hit this hard. “Or your responsibility to handle such a thing. I’m going to be okay.”

Seohyun is at your side, petting your head soothingly while removing any hair strands stuck to your wet face. “Babe, we’re your friends. I’ll personally hunt down all of these assholes and make them apologize on their knees for treating your personal life like a random TV show.”

A smile finds you, unable to keep a straight face around her even for a second, the other two nodding in agreement. “Thanks, you guys. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d be fine, sweetheart.” Chris kisses the top of your head, having removed his blazer and only sporting his flowery shirt, with his sleeves rolled up and exposing some of his tattoos. You stare at each of them in turn, taking in their appearance. All three look like they barely got any sleep last night, which is pretty accurate. You and Seohyun went to sleep in the early morning, having spent the whole night talking about everything under the sun.

The guys most likely haven’t slept a wink yet, judging by the state they were in.

They must’ve rushed over here once they got wind of that mess on social media, and scheduled an intervention with Seohyun. You swear they were too worried about you.

Which is why you were extremely grateful to have their support in your life. Despite what Chris is saying, you’re aware you would have crumbled a long time ago without them by your side.

Without all of them, your world would have permanently lost its color.

A few days later, things have calmed down but you and Hyunjin were still the talk of campus. Whatever class you’re having, or in whichever building you go, there’s always someone recognizing you, gossiping with their friends without a care in the world. It’s like they have nothing better to do or talk about, just speculate about your lives for hours on end. You’ve heard them all. Most were happy Hyunjin was finally single, on the market, and within arm’s reach, ready to be swept off his feet by the next person. Or so, they say. Others feel sorry for you for fumbling such a man, shooting pitying looks every time you’re near.

It's weird and uncomfortable, and you’re unable to concentrate on anything while such people are around. So, you do what any other person would in this situation.

You stop going to class.

You spend the rest of your week at the animal shelter, taking more and more hours just so you’ll have something to do. Things are quiet here, with most people out of the loop and not involved in any of your university’s drama. Everyone besides Jaemin. But he hasn’t brought it up yet, in consideration of your feelings, you suppose. Not like you were close enough for him to care about any of that, but he’s still nice enough to pretend he hasn’t heard any of the things floating around on campus. Hyunjin is his captain, after all, there’s no way he doesn’t know.

Any which way, things will most likely blow over soon and the students will find something else to gossip about by next week. But for now, you’ll be staying far away from that godforsaken campus.

Not like you missed it anyway. This time away was a well-deserved break in your book.

“Do you have plans for this weekend?” Jaemin asks while bottle feeding a puppy that’s been brought in this week, a newborn that couldn’t be older than a few weeks at best.

You nod, eyes glued to the little angel in your lap that allowed you to trim her claws with minimal fussing, a white fluffy cat that’s been at the shelter for far too long. “I do, yeah. I’m going to a club down in Hongdae tonight.”

He raises a curious brow, stopping the rocking chair’s movements to regain his balance. The little granny chair made him dizzy. “A club? I never took you as the clubbing type.”

“Because I’m not.” You laugh, reaching for the cat’s treats as you set the clippers down on the mat next to you. “My friends are performing so I’m going to support them.”

“Your friends?”

“Have you heard of 3racha?”

“Oh!” Jaemin almost jumps out of his seat, eyes sparkling as you’ve genuinely impressed him, the puppy crying in distress. He looks down, devastated, and takes a moment to comfort him before adding. “The upperclassmen? They’re so cool, everyone on campus loves them and their music.”

Now this is an interesting turn of events. Yes, 3racha was popular, you’d know, but Jaemin being a fan? This you were not expecting, for some reason. Their music was for everyone, but Jaemin struck you as the type of guy who’d only listen to bubblegum pop and whatever music inspired him enough to create a choreography around.

Who would’ve thought he was a cool guy, with great taste, after all?

Setting his coolness aside for a moment, he was definitely a good guy, first and foremost. Tall, nice smile, friendly, and with a soft spot for animals? You can’t believe you haven’t seen it before, but he would be perfect for Seohyun! Exactly the type of guy she needed after dealing with one too many fuckboys for the past three years.

They needed to meet. And you will make it happen, no matter what.

“Yep, them.” You try to contain the grin that’s threatening to expose your newly formed plan. “Actually, why don’t you join us? We have a pretty big table and you know what they say, the more friends, the livelier the party.”

If he were to judge you based on the dark circles under your eyes, and the lack of light in them, Jaemin would realize in a heartbeat that the last thing you were in the mood for was a party.

Thankfully, he’s clueless. Still, his smile does drop a little, making him resemble the puppy in his arms

“Oh, thank you but I’m going back home tonight.”

“Wait, really?” Your smile morphs into a genuine one as you resume your task, moving to the last paw once the cat has gotten her fill of pets. “That’s great! I know you’ve been missing home like crazy.”

He laughs, setting the empty bottle on the table next to him and gently moving the puppy in his lap, a little lost on how to handle him. In his hands, you could barely spot the small dalmatian. “Oh God, sorry for talking your ear off about it all the time, by the way. But yeah, I’m taking a train tonight and I’ll unfortunately be back on Monday since we have a game.”

“Already? Doesn’t the season start in October?” It escapes without meaning to, and you only realize a moment too late, lips pressing into a thin line in regret.

Jaemin nods and doesn’t question your sudden interest. “It does. This one is a pre-season game to help us warm up and better our teamwork.”

“Oh yeah? And who’s going to be wearing your jersey and cheering you on?” Teasing him has become second nature at this point, smirking while fluttering your lashes for the full effect.

Yet, he isn’t far behind. “You can if you come.” He says it so nonchalantly that sometimes you can’t tell if he’s still joking or has suddenly decided to become serious.

And it never misses. The face you make by scrunching your nose is the true and accurate picture of disgust.

“I’m joking.” He drags out the word, huffing while rolling his eyes. When your face is back to normal, relief prominent on your features, he adds a little quieter. “Still, I’d be happy to have you there cheering for me.”

Both of your eyebrows hike up in surprise, a tinge of amusement in your voice. “Who says I’ll be cheering on you?”

“Then who will you be cheering on, huh?” He bites back, reminding you of a certain someone. “The enemy? Where’s your school spirit, Y/n?”

Finally done, you release the cat who jumps off your lap happily, returning to headbutt your hand in demand of some more treats for being so obedient. You swear Snowflake was smarter than she let on. “That depends. Who are you playing against?”

“Yonsei.”

“Oh, is Daehyun still the captain?” Jaemin nods, scooting closer to the edge of his seat, as if preparing himself for an impressive story, all while still petting the small dog that has fallen asleep in his lap. “Wow, so then this marks his fourth year as the captain. Impressive.”

Daehyun was a year older than you and most of your friends, and you remember meeting him in your first year after SNU beat Yonsei and prevented them from advancing that season. A good player, but a little too cocky for your taste.

For some unknown reason, you notice Jaemin’s light dim, body tensing in his seat as he bites down on his bottom lip, looking uncomfortable. No, not uncomfortable – nervous. Why was Jaemin nervous?

“Can you tell me more about him?”

Snowflake takes that as her cue to leave, obviously not a fan of sports, fluffy tail bouncing away with her every step, brushing against Jaemin’s leg on her way out. The front door was locked so for as long as you were concerned, she could wander around as much as she pleased.

“Me?” A laugh escapes you, trying to lighten up the sudden heavy atmosphere. “Aren’t you the one on the team?”

He looks a little sheepish, hands clasped together leisurely in a sign of fake confidence. Seeing him lack confidence was a weird sight, one you would have never associated with him before. “I joined the team late last year, so I haven’t played against them yet.”

Taking pity on him, you decide to share whatever information you remember about them, Hyunjin’s words ringing in your mind. “Daehyun is their main quarterback.” Then you pause, realizing you’re missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. “Wait, what’s your position on the field?”

“I’m a left tackle.”

Tackles were usually seen as bulldozers, their responsibilities on the field varying. Speaking from an offensive point of view, there were five linemen in a team at all times, needed for the game to be playable. Jaemin was a left tackle, which meant he protected the quarterback from the left side, working alongside the other four men to ensure nobody from the other team touched Hyunjin. When they weren’t doing that, they worked together to push back the defense and create openings for their teammates.

His role was important but not as crucial as the center. He started the game and without him, Hyunjin and the others wouldn’t be able to run freely on the field. That’s why, the title of captain was usually given either to the center or to one of the quarterbacks. On the other hand, since Hyunjin was right-handed, the left tackle protected his blindside which automatically made Jaemin the most important tackle on the field.

The center controlled the offensive line but the quarterback’s responsibility was to lead the entire team, to know their positions at all times before even thinking about passing the ball.

That’s exactly why, the decision of who’ll get to wear the heavy captain badge was the easiest one the team has had to make three years ago. Nobody but Hyunjin fit that role to a T.

And here you were again, thinking about him. Great.

Even so, Jaemin must be an impressive player to be given such an important role so soon.

“Daehyun usually comes from the right, letting the others take care of his blindside and intercept any danger. He’s selfish and likes to hog the ball, pretending to pass just to mess with your head.”

He’s listening so intently that you’re afraid he might fall, rocking chair tipped forward. “But there’s no need to worry. You’re not the one he’s after, anyway.”

For some reason, your reassurance doesn’t seem to settle his nerves, muscles tense as he begins rolling his shoulders back to get rid of some of the knots. Still, he manages to smile, obviously thankful. “Thank you. I’ll keep everything in mind.”

Just as you’re about to speak again, question his sudden change in mood, your phone buzzes loudly in your hoodie’s pocket, pulling you away from the present moment. Briefly glancing at the caller ID, you answer without much thought, Jaemin taking this as his cue to bring the small puppy back to his siblings.

“Hey, Bin. What’s up?” He didn’t usually call you, most of your communication happening through sporadic texting or whenever you’d drop by their studio to see Chris and Jisung. Changbin was the textbook definition of a social butterfly, with friends in places one wouldn’t think he even frequented. Well liked and friendly, he was the most extroverted member of 3racha, the party animal that knew how to have fun and make any situation entertaining for everyone.

“Ay, how’s my favorite social media manager doing?”

You can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes as if he could somehow see you. “Great. I’m taking care of some cute animals right now; life couldn’t be better.”

Even though you were mostly joking, since life has been pretty shitty for a while now, Changbin chooses to believe you, joining in your laughter. “So, you’re not in class either?”

“Listen, I’d rather do anything else than sit through another one of Mr. Kim’s boring and drawn-out lectures. That guy just doesn’t know when to stop talking.”

He hums, agreeing completely. Mr. Kim was your Music Theory professor, with an impressive career behind him that in most people’s opinion should have ended ten years ago. He was one of the best, and most renowned professors at SNU, however, his way of doing things has gone out of style a long time ago, so usually, his lectures were filled with him rambling about how music isn’t what it once was, and how this university has gone to shit thanks to its unserious staff and students.

Perhaps Mr. Kim hasn’t been doing too hot lately.

“Oh, he really fucked us over this time.”

Your brows furrow, confusion visible all over your face. “What do you mean?”

“Can you swing by the studio later? I’ll explain everything in detail then.” He sounds tired, more so than usual, and you find yourself agreeing just so you won’t become another inconvenience for him.

With what seemed like a weight lifted off his sturdy shoulders, Changbin exhaled and thanked you softly. “Where’s that shelter of yours? Should I send someone to pick you up?”

You shake your head just as Jaemin pops back into the room, puppy free. “No, that’s okay. I’ll be there in half an hour or so.”

“Alright. See you later.”

The call ends shortly after, and as you pocket the phone, Snowflake returns to headbutt your hand, just as Jaemin comes to a stop in front of you. “Do you need to go? I can close up in here by myself if it’s urgent.”

It was currently six pm on a Friday, which meant no other volunteers were going to show up until tomorrow morning. You were the only two people left, having stayed past the usual closing hour just so you could keep the animals company for a little more.

You knew Jaemin was eager to return home, to his two babies – there was no way you were going to do that to him, no matter how much he insisted he didn’t mind.

“That’s fine. We can do it together.”

You swear the smile he shoots your way has something twist in your heart, a similar feeling to the knife that’s been firmly stuck in there for months now. It’s painful and you almost flinch away from him, the only thing keeping you in place being the possibility of him noticing and not turning a blind eye, asking about it worriedly.

He was perfect for Seohyun.

Closing up doesn’t take long, even though it’s your first time doing so with someone else. Jaemin keeps blabbering the whole time, finally back to normal and worry free, and you’re happy your previous conversation didn’t have any lasting effect. Game day was a big deal and he was bound to feel nervous. That never truly goes away.

Bidding him goodbye, he’s on his merry way, skipping back to campus while whistling a happy tune. The sight makes you long for the days when you were this happy and carefree, and a part of you can’t help but wonder if you are ever going to feel that way again. Happiness and content seemed so far away – what if they became a part of your brain, you could never access again?

With similar questions spinning around in your loud mind, the trip to your friend’s studio takes half the time it usually does, and you barely register you’ve arrived until you find yourself pushing the door open and entering the familiar building that belonged to Changbin’s father. 3racha’s main studio resided here, even before they gathered an audience and were just teenage boys with a dream, working towards their goals with a hunger that hasn’t yet been satisfied.

Since then, they acquired two more studios. This one was Changbin’s, his preferred workplace he could usually be found at but also their headquarters. Jisung’s was at their apartment, in one of the free rooms he turned into his sanctuary, his safe place that held all of his guitars and unreleased songs. As for Chris, he settled on renting a small place, a few blocks away, just for himself and his trusted laptop he’d be ruined without. The boys loved working together and spending time with one another but sometimes, it all got too much, too suffocating, so they needed their separate spaces to manage to work in peace and get some alone time.

All of the important meetings happened here, in the studio everything started back in high school, so it’s not like they had the time to become too independent or feel lonely. The three of them were a team, after all, Chris’ arms he could never navigate life without. Fundamental parts of him that also couldn’t function on their own, needing the glue that kept them together at all times.

The building hosted numerous businesses, providing them with the space necessary for their workers. Changbin’s father was a multi-millionaire tycoon, owning most of the apartment buildings in the city, including the one you were currently living in. He offered to fund 3racha’s dream and catapult them to stardom, just like they’ve always wanted, but they’ve always refused, firm on the decision of making and walking their own path, even if it was muddy or lacking any of the desired light.

You’ve always admired that about them, the fact that they didn’t choose the easy way, give in to the temptation that was right at their fingertips, on a pretty, silver platter.

Pressing the fifth-floor button, the elevator doors close and you’re left alone with your thoughts for a total of 30 seconds before you step into the freshly cleaned, sleek white hallway whose marble floors seem to sparkle. The sheer size of it all used to intimidate you, with all the twists and turns and numerous closed doors that seemed to mock your existence. But now, you barely acknowledge your surroundings as you stroll towards the end of the hallway, passing by a nicely decorated kitchen area with snacks, drinks, and too many sitting arrangements.

The last door, behind which resided the largest room on the floor, which was off limits to everyone except Changbin and his friends, was the only one welcoming you warmly. Almost like it burrowed some of its owner’s warmth, as strangely as that sounded.

Your hand is raised, ready to knock, and let yourself in before loud voices from inside make you stop dead in your tracks.

“I don’t think you understand how serious this actually is!” You hear Changbin say, voice raised beyond its usual volume. A murmur is all you decipher before he speaks again, distress clear as day in his tone.

“Minho, Hyunjin blew up at someone today!”

And just like that, your heart skips so many beats that you believe you’ve momentarily stopped breathing, hand flopping to your side unceremoniously. There’s no air entering your lungs anymore, frozen on the spot like you were getting broken up with for a second time in three months. Why did everything have to circle back to Hyunjin, in one way or another? Was he experiencing similar things or were you officially going crazy?

“What?” Minho finally lets out, sounding confused, sign he hasn’t witnessed the scene Changbin is referencing.

Minho, along with Changbin and Felix, who has been studying abroad in Australia for a year now, were Hyunjin’s best friends. They have been each other’s rocks ever since high school before you got the chance to meet him.

Minho was as overprotective of his people as Chris was, ready to fight anyone who dared hurt his precious friends. An intimidating panther who bared his teeth at the first sign of danger, ready to pounce and eliminate any threat.

And as of late, one thing was clear as the sky on a sunny day. Minho absolutely despised you.

“We were by the field,” Changbin begins, sighing like remembering the scene was painful, “and these girls sitting behind us in the bleachers were going on and on, gossiping about him and that stupid fucking picture. They knew we could hear them, heck the whole team could, but they didn’t fucking care and kept speculating about his relationship and the reason it ended, spouting all of this nonsense like it was any of their business to begin with!”

Minho is quiet, processing everything as Changbin stops to breathe, inhaling greedily like he is running out of time and needs to let it all out before it is too late. “I saw the moment his patience ran out, jaw clenching in anger, like a bomb ready to explode at any moment. And then, before I can do anything about it, Hyunjin turns around and tells them to shut the fuck up and get a life.”

You’re taken aback, not being able to wrap your head around the information Changbin just revealed. This was so unlike him, to react so rashly and be overcome by anger, that you almost didn’t recognize the person from the story as being him. Hyunjin was rational, level headed which helped him juggle all of his responsibilities with ease. He wasn’t rude and snappy but then again, if you had a backbone, you might’ve reacted in the same way. The gossiping has gone too far, spiraling out of control like you were nothing more than a story on the front page of a cheap magazine.

“Deserved.” Is all Minho says, a certain pride in his voice. Changbin on the other hand, doesn’t seem to think the same.

“Minho, you don’t get it. I was afraid he was going to throw his heavy ass duffle bag at their heads!”

“Maybe he should have.”

“You can’t be serious.” You hear the chair squeak as he presumably stands up, exasperated.

“And why not, Changbin? You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. People have gotten a little too comfortable with talking about actual strangers and their personal lives, harassing them on social media and treating them like fucking celebrities.” Minho’s voice is full of disdain, controlled anger dripping from each word.

Changbin doesn’t respond, which has you wondering about the look on his face. Even though Minho was harsh, he wasn’t wrong – you all knew that.

“Yes, Hyunjin is popular, but does that mean they can pick apart his life for fun? Turning him into campus gossip like he’s not just a regular student trying to navigate whatever the fuck he’s currently going through?”

“This is unlike him.” Changbin breathes out, sharing your sentiment.

“Why? Because he finally had enough and snapped?” Minho counters. “Hyunjin has been through a lot recently, and now he’s reacting accordingly. I would have been more concerned if he wasn’t angry.”

They’re both quiet for a moment, silence stretching on as the gears in your head keep turning faster and faster. Hyunjin’s behavior made no sense, especially since you lived under the impression that he was fine and dandy experiencing life to the fullest. His anger was justified, yes, but was it really necessary? People gossiped about him all the time, calling him awful names whenever the team lost a game or made a wrong call, and he has never reacted in this way.

Could Hyunjin actually be more affected by your break up than you initially thought?

As you get closer, eager to hear more, the door suddenly swings open and you stumble back, startled and embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping. And as fate has it, since you can never win, the one towering over you with his intimidating presence alone is Minho, whose cold eyes are glaring tiny icicles at every part of your existence.

He pauses, on the verge of saying something, most likely preparing to chew you out when he scoffs, deeming your existence unworthy of his attention as he walks away, grazing your shoulder with his, which has more of an impact than an actual collision. Minho’s indifference hurt, but his anger? That was lethal.

“Minho – oh, hey! Were you waiting long?” Changbin almost bumps into you, eyes flickering to yours before looking past you in search of his friend.

Still a little shaken, you make way, stepping out of the doorway. “You can go after him.”

Just then, the sound of the elevator arriving fills the air, and Changbin lets out a defeated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, it’s fine. Come in.”

You do as he says, not thinking too much about it, thankful he was too busy with whatever was currently going through his mind to put two and two together and realize you’ve been here for a while. Or maybe he did and simply didn’t care. Changbin could be too nice for his own good, sometimes.

The studio looked the same as always: fancy equipment, Changbin’s numerous instruments, two black leather couches by the floor-to-ceiling windows, and a glass, sparkly coffee table. For better acoustics, both the floor and the four walls were made of wood, dark oak to be exact. It made the room feel cozy, war,m and welcoming despite the intimidating smell of money that hit you from the moment you stepped inside.

The recording booth was where all the magic happened though, the place of birth of most of their discography. Every single inch of it was soundproof, and you remember Chris telling you about the times he used to lock himself in there just to scream when life got a little too overwhelming. To test it out, years ago when it was first set up, Minho and Jisung had a screaming competition – the sight of them from behind the tiny window that separated the two spaces, going back and forth animatedly while no sound could be heard on your end was hysterical.

A huff escapes him as he flops on the leather chair by the desk, suddenly looking so much smaller as exhaustion seems to settle deep into his bones. You’re quiet, taking a seat opposite him on the closest couch, watching as he runs both hands through unruly dark curls, pulling himself together.

“Thanks for coming.” He manages to smile, spinning his chair to face you. “Do you want something to drink?” Changbin nods towards the mini fridge to your left, and you shake your head.

“Are you alright?” You can’t help yourself, concerned after hearing his previous conversation.

“Just peachy.” He slouches into his chair, getting comfortable. “I haven’t seen you in class in a hot minute.”

You fidget on the spot, his conversation with Minho still fresh in your mind adding to your discomfort. Changbin might’ve been your friend, but you weren’t that close, especially not close enough to confide in him about such a sensitive subject.

Thankfully, a grin finds its way onto his features, eyes staring at nothing in particular as he snorts. “That’s mostly because I haven’t shown up at all this week, but you know.”

Despite yourself, your muscles relax, the atmosphere lighter. “Why are you skipping class?” You laugh, reaching for one of the small, decorative pillows nearby to hug to your chest.

“I’m making money moves, Y/n. I have no time for senile profs and fifth grader homework.”

Oh, yes, alluding to Mr. Kim and his assignments that have you analyzing the same three music sheets since your freshman year.

“See, you get me. Chris on the other hand, just scolds me for skipping.”

He shakes his head. “That’s because he gets a music boner for the guy. He respects him too much.”

You’re both laughing, easily falling back into your usual banter.

“What did he do though?”

“Right.” He rolls his eyes like he’s remembering an unpleasant memory. “So, he suddenly decided on a new assignment that’s worth 50% of our grade. A group project.”

Your smile vanishes, fists tightening on the poor pillow. “What the fuck? When?”

“Today, when we were skipping!” Changbin lets out a humorless laugh, slapping his knee as his way of coping. “Chris texted me all about it a few hours ago. Can you believe it?”

No, you couldn’t. You also couldn’t wrap your head around the reason Chris, your childhood best friend, your other half, hasn’t texted you anything about it to begin with. He knew where you were and what you were doing, not busy in the slightest, so why was he keeping you out of the loop?

And Jisung? Where the fuck was Jisung?

“Anyways, so his brilliant idea entrails pairing us up with someone we haven’t worked with before. Because out there in the real world, you won’t always get the chance to work with your friends, apparently.” He scoffs loudly, voicing your displeasure, properly annoyed at the old man. “That’s how we ended up stuck with each other.”

The way he says it hurts the tiniest bit, but you brush past it with a chuckle. “Gee, don’t get too excited, Bin. A girl might get the wrong idea.”

Changbin blinks, slowly processing your words before his eyes widen. “No! Oh my god, Y/n, please don’t get me wrong! I’m so fucking glad I got you and not some rando that won’t bother pulling their weight!”

Relief washes over you, the pillow falling slack in your lap. “But?”

“Not buts.” He shakes his head. “I know you usually work with Chan so I can understand if you’re disappointed you got stuck with me.”

“You’re kidding right?” You tilt your head, frowning. “I’m so happy it’s you and not someone I don’t know! We’re friends and I know your work ethic, I couldn’t ask for a better partner for this assignment, Bin.”

Now he’s beaming, no trace of any of his worries left behind, pleased by your words. “Thank you, Y/n.”

Changbin has always been someone easy to get along with, and he was one of the most hardworking people you knew. If you couldn’t work with Chris or Jisung, you were glad it was him. There was no doubt in your mind your team was going to ace this.

“So, what do we have to do, exactly?” You move the conversation along, leaning back to melt into the comfy couch.

“Hold on, I’ll send you the doc I got from Chan.” He wheels over to his laptop, and as it comes to life, your curiosity is peaked by something that looks like a workout plan which he minimizes a little too quickly. A minute or so later, your phone dings with a new text from him.

“We essentially have to come up with five songs by the end of the semester, and put them together in a mini album.”

Your mouth falls open, eyes glued to the screen as you start reading all of the instructions. “Why the hell is he taking over Mrs. Oh’s class? Music theory does not involve any of the shit he’s sprouting in here.”

Spinning to face you, Changbin’s distress is back in tenfold. “I know! I heard he got mad people stopped taking him seriously and are skipping his boring class.”

Great, another washed-up professor who longed for his glory days. This university loved getting on your nerves and keeping you in a constant state of stress and anxiety, like worrying about your future wasn’t already giving you enough of that. You should have just chosen Yonsei.

Exhaling loudly, you throw your phone to the side and push your hair back. “All right, a mini album about what? Because I’m sure he’s not giving us any creative freedom here.”

Changbin nods, reaching for his coffee. “The five stages of grief.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

After you almost popped a blood vessel because of Mr. Kim on Friday and established how and when you were going to start working on those songs with Changbin, Monday rolls around a bit too quickly for your liking.

You’ve spent the weekend thinking about it, measuring the pros and cons before deciding on accepting Jaemin’s invitation. The one which involved you getting off your butt and going to a football game. A game your ex was undoubtedly going to be present at, taking front stage.

You haven’t been to a game in almost five months, having stopped attending when things went sour in your relationship. Other than that, you have been going since your freshman year, when he was first made captain.

Football wasn’t one of your passions, never was, and never will be, but for him, you made an effort, and now your head was full of useless information about a sport you couldn’t care less about. A loss in your book, but a win at the time when it was serving a purpose. Now, you were no different from an old encyclopedia about a topic that has long stopped being relevant, outdated, pulled off the shelves to make room for the new, shinier books the students could reference in their papers.

But you had a plan.

You were going to show up, introduce Seohyun to Jaemin, and make sure they hit it off and then dip, preferably before the game even starts. It was brilliant, one of the best ideas you’ve come up with in a while. Nothing could go wrong, right? You were bound to get some good luck after the horrible run you’ve had, it was going to be alright. If a miracle were to somehow occur, you might not even bump into your ex.

However, since you chose to not share your plan with anyone, your friends were more than surprised as you sprung that on them, seemingly out of nowhere.

“You want to go where?” Chris lets out after a coughing fit, drinking from Jisung’s water. Seohyun and Jisung look just as taken aback, not understanding your sudden excitement, sharing concerned looks across the table.

“Please? It will be fun!” And then, you turn to Seohyun next to you, who froze with her milkshake halfway to her mouth. The noisy diner is suddenly quiet, almost like it shared their sentiments. “I want you to meet someone!”

She points to herself, even more confused. “Me? You’re doing this for me?”

Jisung leans over the table, getting a hold of your hand so your attention can be on him. “What are you planning, you little minx?”

You feel Chris’ eyes bore holes into the side of your head, staring at you intently, in the hopes of breaking through the wall you set up and reaching your true feelings. He knew you too well – there was no way you were as excited as you let out to be.

You expected them to be concerned, but maybe not to this extent. It was odd and out of character for you who avoided everything that had to do with your past relationship, to be so excited about something like this. Chris definitely believed it was too soon, your heart still too fragile to remain intact once you stepped into the wolf’s den.

And you agreed but maybe this was exactly what you needed. The best way to confront your fears was head-on. The more you kept running, the more you let them control every aspect of your life, allowing misery to be present at every hour of the day.

Maybe this was the first step you needed to take in order to feel like your old self again, the person you were before him. Before his love destroyed you.

And so, you try your best to ignore the look in Chris’ eyes, shaking off the discomfort his scrutiny has brought forth. “I’ve found your prince charming.”

Seohyun is surprised, eyebrows meeting her hairline as she sets down her drink, reaching for your other hand. “Babe – “

“Come on, stop worrying, all of you. We’re going to have fun!”

They’re silent, staring at each other as if they were trying to decipher the way they should approach this, how to respond. Your smile is strained but doesn’t falter, putting on your most convincing mask. Fake it till you make it and then you’ll feel alright.

In the end, Chris sighs, defeated. “Okay. Let’s go.”

You don’t get the chance to celebrate before his voice softens, gently redirecting your attention to his last words. “But if at any time, you feel the need to leave, or just get bored or whatever, you let me know, yeah?”

Once again, it looked like he managed to read your mind and find your original plan, proof of how well he knew you.

And that’s exactly how you ended up by the football field later that day, up in the bleachers searching for your seats, a little after four pm. One of your other friends, Jeongin, got here earlier to pick the best ones, close to the stairs to aid in your quick escape.

Even for a pre-season game, every single student seemed to be here, the stadium packed with people from all departments, all excited to cheer for their favorite team. And the guys on them. As your gaze trails downwards, to the field and the players who are currently crowded by a small group of girls, you manage to recognize all of their faces. Their long time girlfriends are wearing their jerseys, fussing over their uniform and overall condition, making sure the guys were fit to play. On the opposite side of the field are the guys from Yonsei, not as loud and excited since this wasn’t their ‘homeland’, but still as supported and cheered on.

You manage to spot Daehyun, who’s looking a little worse for wear, pacing back and forth like his overall game plan changed in the blink of an eye. Odd.

“Guys, over here!” Jeongin yells, patting the seats beside him with the sweetest smile on his boyish face. Seohyun pulls you along, your hand in hers and the others follow, with Jisung still talking Chris’ ear off about some new video game he managed to beat last night. He couldn’t care less about football, he never has.

The moment you make it to your seats, you’re pulled into a brief hug Jeongin plans to escape a little too soon. When he makes to pull away, you only hug him tighter, which surprisingly, he isn’t mad about, laughing loudly. Seems like he has missed you just as much.

However, when the greetings continue around you, a nearby conversation prevents you from getting out of the way, too curious to sit down.

“Did you guys hear Hyunjin won’t be playing this season?” A girl sitting in the row below asks her friends, whose faces fall at the news.

Multiple gasps are heard, one more surprised than the other. “What? No way that’s true!”

“It is!” Another girl chimes in, nodding. “Apparently some other guy is taking his place. A rookie.”

And that’s the exact moment your world seems to collapse, eyes almost popping out of their sockets as you whip around to face the field once again, desperately searching for those familiar numbers on his back. In your haste, you don’t find them, and panic threatens to overtake you until your eyes land on the captain badge pinned on a red jersey. Something looks off though, because usually, under the big C, Hyunjin has two stars, and they were supposed to add another to signify the three years he’s spent as the captain of this team.

This badge has none.

Because the guy that’s currently taking off his helmet, shaking his head while smiling brightly at something his teammates have said isn’t Hyunjin.

It’s Jaemin.

[brittle-doughie]

I somewhat NEED Y/N Cookie having a holly jolly Christmas with the Triple Cone Cup trio and the cookies in tha latest update for

No reason.

Other than it being the time of the year for Christmas

Trouble with Triples (Triple Cone Cup/Grand Cookie Games Cookies)

———————————————————————

“Did you set up the Christmas lights outside already, Pudding A La Mode Cookie?”

“Correct, I made sure not a single spot outside wasn’t covered by the lights!”

“Woah, and you did this without me prompting you to! Nice job.”

“That’s sweet of you, but know what else is sweet? The pudding that I want from you now!”

“Alright alright, you’ve earned it, here.”

“Has anyone seen Prune Juice Cookie? Did he come back from outside yet?”

“Uh, PALM. Did you happen to see him?”

“Hmm….”

[Scene cuts to a flailing Prune Juice Cookie as he’s tangled up in christmas lights]

“Nah, haven’t seen him.”

———————————————————————

You were working on setting up the wreath on the door when you felt someone tap your shoulder!

“Hey, Y/N Cookie, do you have a minute?”

Yeah, give me a second.”

You thought the wreath looked pretty steady on the door and you turned around to see Green Tea Mousse Cookie literally face to face to you.

“Oh! Uh, hey there, Green Tea. What are you..up to?”

Green Tea kept her closeness, looking up above her as she nodded her head at you. You look up yourself to see that she was holding up a mistletoe above the both of you!

“Ah, I s-see!”

“Come on, are you going to deny me a kiss? Under the mistletoe?”

“What? No! That’s the rule, y’know. You gotta…kiss under the mistletoe.”

Green Tea went first, readying her lips and closed her eyes.

You did the same and were about to meet her in the middle…

“Hey, Y/N Cookie! You’ve gotta check out this snowman I made! It’s a little melted, but still looking pretty SPICY!”

You jumped at Capsaicin Cookie’s sudden appearance that it caused you to back up towards the door, hitting the wreath and making it fly up in the air! It would trap you three inside of it when it landed back down.

Green Tea yelped and let go of the mistletoe, going up in the air and landing on your head. She was surprised at first, but just shrugged and kissed your cheek, making you squeak as your face turned red.

“Woah, is that a mistletoe? Well, I ain’t turning down something like this! Are you ready to withstand my spice?!”

Capsaicin eagerly kissed your other cheek, only making the blush worse. Just how long would these two keep this up…?!

———————————————————————

You were sampling a small cake slice to taste, figuring that the end product turned out pretty good.

“Y/N Cookie, Kouign-Amann Cookie needs your assistance for a moment! The Christmas tree needs the star placed at the top!”

“Coming!”

You leave the cake slice down and head off into the living room, allowing Prune Juice to slip right in and have a taste of the slice.

“Hmm, not bad, but it could use a little more to the texture. It’s a good enough I keep a particular potion for this occasion.”

Prune Juice Cookie pulled out a potion bottle, the contents of the liquid unknown but was that of a rosy pink color. A mischievous look to his face grew as he popped the cork off the tap.

“Just one drop is enough to make it even better…”

“What are you doing?”

Prune Juice jumped at the voice behind, turning around to see Choco Drizzle Cookie behind him, narrowing her eyes at the Cookie as she adjusts her glasses.

“I was just making sure the cake tasted just right for when the party starts.”

“And you chose to try it on that specific slice first? The same exact slice Y/N Cookie was eating?”

“I didn’t want it to ruin the cake if the potion ended up not working.”

“…You should leave.”

“And what about you? What are you doing? Are you just going to stand here in the kitchen all the time?”

“It’s so Cookies like you don’t try to take advantage. I’ll let this provocation slide for now, but know that I won’t be so lenient next time.”

“I think that you were just watching Y/N Cookie the whole time and I get it, they’re quite the sweet Cookie to look at~”

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, so that’s what this was about all along.”

“I told you to leave. Now.”

“I’m back, Kouign was able to poke at the star with her sword until it fit into place…uh, what’s going on?”

The two stopped their back and forth to pay attention to you at the kitchen doorway. Prune quickly tossed the potion to Choco Drizzle!

“It was her idea!”

“You will pay for your transgression!”

———————————————————————

[skzdarlings]

vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 2/2

masterlist.

PART 2/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )

You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. cat-and-mouse. dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. brat tamer!felix and brat!reader. everything that transpires is fully consensual with implied conversations on kink preferences, and an established colour safeword system before the scene. that being said, they still get a lil kinky. please heed the following content warnings: fear kink/cnc, hiding, chasing, lots and lots of dirty talk, fingering, blow jobs, face fucking, throat fucking, a little bit of crying, penetrative sex. (protected but dirty talk like it's not.)

(chapter word count: 7750 words.)

enjoy! <3

-

The gentlest nip of a summer breeze moves through the settling blue darkness.  Everything feels romantic.  Everything except the handcuffs chaining you to Felix,  Security Guard of the Year, Man of the People, and Defender of Propriety and Pop Star Penis.   

Felix does not look at you as he drags you away from the stadium.  He smiles sweetly at passersby, doing his best to hide the handcuffs no thanks to your flamboyant gesticulations, but it dissolves again to that grim, determined countenance. 

Felix has an interesting face, so many sharp lines, but the overall effect is somehow delicate.  A body of contradictions, slender but strong, a stark masculinity rippling beneath the glittery prettiness he happily indulges in.  Blue hair should not look that good on anyone, but you doubt anything could make him look bad.  He sparkles like the glitter star on his cheek. 

You poke that cheek.  A muscle in his jaw twitches.  He looks at you sideways, all pretty brown eyes and a constellation of even prettier freckles.  

“Do not,” he says. 

“Do not what?”

“Just. Do not.” 

You obey his demand for silence.  For about six seconds. 

“So how long have you been a security guard?” you ask amiably. 

“You’re really trying to have a normal conversation with me,” he says.  “Now? After that introduction?”

“I prefer the term meet-cute.”

“We wrestled on the ground then you handcuffed us together and threw away the key—”

“Adorable.”

“Right.” He picks up his speed.  You could easily keep pace but you decide to stagger along like he is too fast for you, whining as he drags you behind him.  Felix sighs but slows his pace.  To your surprise, he answers your question.  “A month,” he says.  “I’ve been working there a month.” 

“And you’re already gunning for CEO,” you say.  “Considering how dedicated you are to bringing justice—”

He slams to a stop.  Your chain jingles when you collide, hands smacking together.  He faces you. Wisps of blue escape from his half-ponytail to dance across his face.   

“I already told you,” he says.  “My job is checking tickets.  Chasing you down was my personal pleasure.”

“You’re a sick bastard,” you say.   

He smiles.  It is a gentle smile, seemingly sympathetic out of nowhere, his eyes softening with the lift of his brow.  He has an uncanny ability to make softness more threatening than roughness. It gives you a shiver. 

“Let me guess,” he says.  “You don’t have a job, do you, sweetheart?  You can’t hold one down.  You don’t know how. Your parents have money and it’s nice, sure, but they were overbearing your whole childhood, weren’t they?  Until one day they decided you were grown and just stopped caring.  And now you’re out in the world with no more rules and you don’t know how to deal with it.  Except by acting out.  It’s fun, right?  Looking for trouble.  Makes you feel something for a minute.  Because even though you have everyone fooled into thinking you’re this wild and carefree person, you’re locked up inside.  You’re not scared of consequences because you’re already trapped.  Oh, uhh, stop me if I’m getting cold, yeah?”

You just stare as he blithely runs his pretty mouth. 

“You don’t really care about the prize, it’s just about the chase,” he continues.  “You told me I was a good boy, yeah?  Your words.  And you think you’re bad.  A bad, bad girl,” his deep voice drops even more, like the heavy-handed thud of a low blow, striking some place intimate inside you, “but that’s not really true, is it?” 

He smiles that particular smile again, full of affection and tenderness, an expression that is completely alien to your brash and aggressive nature. 

“Deep, deep down, you just want to be good,” he says.  “But you need to earn it to enjoy it, don’t you?  You need someone to tell you that you can, that it’s okay.  But you don’t make it easy.  And you’ve been running for so long, you probably can’t even remember how it feels when someone cares enough to catch you.” 

You suddenly feel the weight of the handcuffs. You expected this dull pretty boy to have a hidden mean streak to rival your own, not for him to blast through your barriers and drag your innermost thoughts to the surface.  To say nothing of his perfect speculation on your background. 

“So what, you’re some kind of stalker with a philosophy major?” you ask. 

He is still smiling. 

He laughs, a low chuckle.  He looks like a star, glittering silver and blue in the moonlight. 

“No, I’m not,” he says.  “I’m just the same as you.  Vexatious, apparently, because I’m all smiles all the time.  Just so good, you know?”  He is almost theatrical in tone.   “Of course, that’s technically the opposite of you.  Isn’t it?” 

When you don’t answer, he touches your chin, just his fingertips.  It is still enough to guide your face to his, locking eyes. 

“I said, isn’t it?” he asks, his tone sharper. 

If he is insinuating that you are only pretending to be bad, then that means he is only pretending to be good.  If you are secretly good, then he is secretly—

His mouth hovers close to yours.  He abruptly steps back. 

Oh.  You blink quickly.  Yes.  Of course.  It is always the real bad boys who take care to be good, isn’t it?  He does not need to flaunt it.  He can just smile at you. 

“Come on,” he says, interlocking your fingers with his.  He tugs you along, humming to himself as he leads you down the street.  So seemingly innocent.  Grinning to himself like the cheshire cat. 

You stare at those freckles, the glitter stars, his dimples. 

A vexatious vixen, indeed.

“So that Jisung guy,” you say. “The one who gave you these handcuffs.  He thinks you’re a nice guy who needs some adventure in his life.  It was just a prank gift and he thought he was being funny.”

“Yup,” Felix says, popping the sound.

“Little does he know you’re actually some sick and twisted pervert,” you say.

“Tsk,” he says, looking at you with a cheeky grin, as if to say what a silly girl you are.  “I’m not sick.  See, unlike you who bothers everyone whether they like or not, I only chase the ones who like to run.  Twisted, on the other hand… well…” 

The handcuffs jingle, strung around your joined hands like the red string of fate.  You look at each other, starlight on your faces, a noisy arena behind you and a game ahead of you. 

You smile back at him. 

You still intend to win.

-

It is a twenty minute walk.  Your conversation weaves around implications, some very forthright flirtations, and a couple scandalizing explanations.  Despite his previous goading, Felix is far more reserved in his desires.  He blinks when you describe a very dirty scenario and get detailed.   Very, very detailed.   

“Um, right,” he says.  “Fun as that sounds, I’m pretty sure that constitutes as a human rights violation.”

“So?”

“I, uhh, prefer to do things that don’t get me put on an Interpol watch list.” 

“Coward.”

You nonetheless accept this and describe a totally different scenario.  He looks a little wan. 

“Where would I get a rocket launcher?” he asks when you are finished. 

“I dunno, get creative.  My friend Seungmin once—oh shit, my friends!”

“Wait, huh?  Your friend Seungmin has a rocket launcher…?”

You take out your phone to find a gathering collection of texts from Seungmin and Minho, ranging from teasing you about losing your touch to asking if you got arrested and they need to bail you out.  Your friends are a nightmare which is why you like them, but they always get you out of trouble in the end. 

You confirm you are safe, that you already left, and that you are trying to have sex with a hot, insane, kinky sadist of a security guard.  

“You know I can read everything you are typing right now,” Felix says.  “I am standing right beside you.  You’re typing with a hand literally attached to mine.”

“Well, mind your own business.”  You do not bother hiding your texts. 

“You are giving them my name and address,” Felix replies.  “It sounds like my business.” 

“Well, it’s not.  We’ve already established the world revolves around me.  You’re the supporting character, pal.” 

“Right,” he says.  He blinks at the screen.  In a more serious voice, he asks, “Do you want the postal code too?” 

It never hurts to be thorough.  You type the address and send it to the boys. 

Good thing you waxed, Seungmin writes. 

Felix squints at the screen and tilts his head like a curious cat.  “You waxed for a concert?” he asks, giving you a once-over.  “What did you think was gonna—”

“I am prepared for every eventuality,” you interrupt.  “It’s why I always win.”

He holds up your handcuffed wrists and cocks an eyebrow.  “Is this what you call winning?” he asks. 

You smirk, your whole expression bright despite the suggestive wiggling of your eyebrows.  “Matter of opinion, I suppose,” you say.  “And my opinion is the only one that matters.” 

“Right,” he says, forcing a frown.  Despite his efforts, a smile is tugging at his lips.  He suffices to roll his eyes and march ahead, yanking you along behind him.  “Come on,” he says.  “We’re almost there.”  

Once your friends have your information, you put your phone in your little purse.  You turn the corner and find yourself looking at an absolutely gorgeous house.  Your jaw drops as Felix leads you up the driveway.  It is an ostentatious design to say the least.  You pass a gate mounted with two lion statues.  

“Not my style,” he says when you gawk at the stone kitties.  “This place belongs to my parents.  They usually rent it out but they let me live here while I go to school.” 

“So you weren’t kidding,” you say, a funny sensation in your chest and stomach.  “About your background, I mean.  You and me really are alike.” 

You realize the sensation in your chest is an inkling of feelings.  Genuine, heart-felt, soul-stirring feelings. You look at Felix and see a lot of yourself, though he is like a mirror version, exactly the same and completely the opposite.  It makes you huff, holding a hand to your stomach like you can control the butterflies there. 

“What’s wrong?” Felix asks, pausing at the front door. 

“When was the last time you had a feeling?” you ask.

“A… feeling?” he asks.  He stands silent for a long moment.  When he realizes you are not going to elaborate, he asks, “What kind of feeling?”

“Just a feeling,” you say.  “You know.” 

“Uhh.”  He blinks quickly.  “I have feelings all the time.  Every day.”

“Wow,” you say.  “That sounds exhausting.  Explains a lot about you.” 

“All right.”  He shakes his head.  He reaches into his back pocket and fishes out a set of house keys, twirling them around his fingers until he finds the right one. 

“Wouldn’t it be funny if I threw those keys too?” you ask.

He gives you an exasperated look.  You grin.

With a shake of his head, he sighs and unlocks the door.  The foyer lights flicker to life and the house alarm starts ringing.  It gives you a punch of adrenaline which has the predictable effect of getting your blood pumping.  Your body does not know the difference between fear and desire.  You have only been here two seconds but you are already licking your lips. 

Felix is none-the-wiser.  He flips open the alarm panel and punches in a code.  It beeps and goes quiet.   You look at each other in the soft golden glow of the foyer lamplight.  He still looks stupidly pretty, blue hair and glitter, sleeveless shirt and jeans.  Unassuming, gentle, sweet.  Not at all like he could throw you over his shoulder or manhandle you in the grass.  But he can.  He did.

“Come on,” he says, tugging on the chain between you. 

You feign disinterest but your eyes scour his space.  You pass through the kitchen where there is an array of baking utensils drying in the dishes rack.  The entire kitchen is clearly maintained with great care.  The rest of the space is a little chaotic, shelves and desks and units overflowing with technological equipment that you can neither recognize nor name. 

“I build computers,” he says, catching you staring at the pile of miscellaneous parts.  “Sorry for the mess.  I wasn’t expecting company.” 

This is uttered dryly and you wave it away.  You do not want to admit you find it somewhat endearing.  Your hobbies primarily consist of keeping the local PD on their toes, but you appreciate the practice of a craft.  It only adds another layer to this weird dude, pretty but athletic but intelligent but ridiculous but charming but geeky.  And just as competitive and crazy and freaky as you. 

“Bedroom’s this way,” he says.  “And, uh, don’t get any ideas.” 

“Too late,” you answer, though truthfully your filthier fantasies are fracturing in wake of the reality of him.  The computers, the baking tools, the wall of games and consoles, collectible toys and ughhh why did he have to be kind of adorable and secretly have a personality.  Mutual objectification is more your style.  Not quivering under a gentle touch and feeling… feelings. 

“You look like you are thinking way too hard,” Felix says, pausing at his bedroom door.  “It’s freaky.” 

“Not thinking anything,” you say, because you are too busy feeling to be thinking.  Ugh.   You shake it off and push open his bedroom door. 

He shakes his head and leads you in.  He has a pretty elaborate gaming setup, the rest of the room plain in comparison.  His bed is neatly made and you cannot help but envision a mess of sheets.  Yes.  That is more your thing.  Taking that sweet and gentle façade and corrupting it, right down to the core.  You want him to lose control.  You want to drive him crazy.  You want to draw this out, use the handcuffs and—

“Aha,” he says. “Right here.”

He pulls open a bedside drawer.  A pair of handcuffs is sitting inside it, the key right on top.  He takes it out and immediately unlocks you. 

The cuffs fall to the floor.  He scoops them up and jingles them in your face. 

You stare at them then slowly meet his gaze.

“Oh,” you say.  “You evil son of a bitch.”   

He looks at you with a soft little pout, like he cannot imagine why you would be upset and you are hurting his oh-so sensitive feelings.  But he knew you wanted to play him.  He knew you wanted the handcuffs a little longer.  Now there is no reason to linger.  Now you can just walk out the door and never see him again. 

He is going to make you ask for it. 

That is not your style.  You hate being out-smarted.  And you really, really, really hate losing. 

“Right,” you say.  “I guess that’s it then.”

“Guess so,” he says.  “Bye.” 

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

You are still standing in his bedroom.  It is dark but there is an elaborate lighting rig around his computer, all bright blue neon and blinking lights.  You are swimming in blue, breathing it in.  His hair, the room, and moonlight. 

You will never see this colour the same way again.  Of that much you are certain. 

“Blue,” you say. 

His brow crinkles.  “Blue?” he repeats. 

“Mm.”  You look around the room, pretending you are unbothered by the intensity of his gaze.   “Red.  Yellow.  Green.  Colours can say a lot, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” he says, exhaled on a breath.  The neon light catches the little star on his cheek, glinting at you.  He is dazzling.  This moment is larger than life.

You take a step back, holding his gaze. 

“Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go…” you drawl, backing out of his room.  “It’s amazing what you can say with just a colour…” 

“Uh-huh,” he says.  He looks at you like he did at the arena, maybe even more intensely.  Now he knows what you are capable of doing.  Now you understand each other. 

He follows you, assessing every step you take.  There is a subtle flex to the lean muscles of his arms, reminding you that while he is beautiful, he is also capable of more. 

“And what does blue mean?” he asks.  “To you?” 

You walk backwards, an unspoken understanding that once you turn your back, the game begins.  So you hold his gaze, smirking, inviting.  The foyer lights flash on and gold light fills the space between you, casting shadows across your smiling faces. 

He walks like a predatory cat, slow and smooth.  His confidence is easy.  He needs no grand display of machoism.  He just smiles that pretty pink mouth.  The glitter on his cheek sparkles.    

“Blue is the colour we show on the outside,” you say, “when deep down we really want something else.”

“I see,” he says.  Abruptly, his intensity vanishes when he laughs and says, “Put it back.” 

Somehow, despite diverting his attention, he still saw your slight-of-hand.  You swiped the closest object, a little jewel-encrusted clock on the nearby table.  You waited until your body obscured the view but he still saw.  

He can read you that easily, predict your moves that well.  Because it is not as though he loves the clock.  It stands out from his things, clearly one of the ostentatious designs, courtesy of his parents.  You can read him that easily too.  He does not like gaudy, shiny little knick-knacks.  He likes neon and blue and you. 

“Put what back?” you ask.  You have reached the front door.  Your hands are behind your back, the bauble in one, the other twisting the doorknob. 

“I’m not gonna ask twice,” he says. 

You push the door open. 

“I’ll give it back, if that’s what you really want,” you say.  With a suggestive little smirk, you ask, “So what’s your colour?” 

Red to stop.  Yellow to pause.  Green to give in. 

“Blue,” he says.  To play. 

You smile.  You hold up the bauble, wink, then zip it into your purse.    

“In that case,” you say, “you’ll have to catch me first.” 

His expression changes in an instant, that playful giggling gone as quickly as it came.  He breathes and it fills him, makes him look sturdy, makes him look ready.   

“Sweetheart,” he says.  “Don’t make me do this.” 

The softness of the pet name is completely undone by the dark tone of his voice.  There is nothing soft about him.  He is ice cold blue and burning red heat at once, searing you with his eyes, the way they rove your whole body.  You feel each glance.  A shiver races down your spine.  Instinctively, your body braces itself, fearful of that voice and that gaze. 

It also gets you so, so hot. 

All that tension snaps. 

You turn and run, bolting down the driveway and past the fancy gate.  You are quick on your feet, practiced and lithe.  You show him no mercy this time.  Earlier you were unprepared, severely misjudging his capabilities, but you will not make the same mistake again. 

You glance over your shoulder.  He is no where to be seen so you slow your pace, bemused. 

A minute later, he comes tearing around the corner and your heart starts pumping again.   Just like back at the arena, he grins as he thunders after you. 

An instinctive little yelp leaves your mouth.  You resume your pace, booking it for the corner of the block.  There is a little patch of green park so you run there, disappearing between the bushes. 

It seemed like a good idea but the streetlight barely breaks the thick tree branches. It is darker and eerier here, genuine fright overcoming you.  You come to a clumsy stop, fumbling with your purse to grab your phone.  A flashlight will stop you tripping, but it will also lead Felix right to you. 

You hear him behind you, clambering through the bushes.  Your heart leaps.  The darkness makes you forget this is all pretend.  You run without a light, dashing down the narrow path and squinting for even a glimpse of street light.  You need to get out of the bushes otherwise you risk falling on your face, then he will be right on top of you in seconds.   But running on the road will expose you too quickly. 

You will not surrender that easily.  He knows that. 

Torn between the garden and the road, you get a brilliant idea.  You dash back onto the street and hope it takes him a minute to follow.  He is not behind you so you race back to his house. 

There is no way he will circle back here.  He knows you want a chase, so a chase is what he anticipates.  He would never guess you ran back into his house.  Oh, you can’t wait for the look on his face when he finds you perched on his bed, feigning boredom as you wait. 

You run back up the driveway.  The front door is closed and you crash right into it, assuming it would be unlocked.  Nope. He locked it.  Maybe that is why he was delayed. 

You spin around, halfway expecting to find him there, ready to push you up against his door and cage you in.  But no, you are still winning.  He is undoubtedly still running through those bushes. He will circle the whole block before heading back here.    

You hurry down the side of the house, looking for any open windows.  You do not think he had time to set the alarm.  Did he?  Maybe that is why he was so far behind. 

The side gate is unlocked so you slip into the backyard.  You come to a surprised stop because it is a beautiful landscape.  The greenery is pristine and there are little couches and chairs scattered around.  There is a shed, some storage trunks, a fire pit.    In the middle of everything is a pool, sparkling blue in the golden lamplight.  Of course. 

You do not rush. You cross the yard in a slow walk, taking a moment to catch your breath.  You strategize your next move.  Should you pose on one of the pool chairs?  Wait by his back door and knock when he gets home? 

Your thoughts are interrupted by a low hum.  Someone is making their way down the side of the house.  

You panic.  You are often caught scampering around places you are not supposed to be, so instinct propels you to hide.   You run to one of the storage trunks and duck behind it. 

No sooner have you hidden does Felix stroll into the backyard.  He is a little dishevelled, a few strands of hair escaping from his half-ponytail, but he seems mostly unbothered.  He moves at a leisurely pace, humming to himself as he swings the gate open. 

He pauses there, leaning against the tall fence.   You are quite certain the world has never been this quiet.    

 “I know you’re here,” Felix says, his deep voice shattering the silence. 

Your heart leaps into your throat.  You should have known better.  Of course he had the same idea as you.  Now what?  How can you outsmart someone who can predict your every move? 

You peek around the storage trunk.  Felix is smiling, all dimples and delight.  Even his eyes are glittering as he swings the gate shut.  He looks across the yard as he curls his fist around the padlock.  He slams it shut, effectively locking you in with him. 

So that is why he took so long.  He unlocked the gate before giving chase.  He laid a trap and you ran right into it. 

His walk is more of a prowl, a slow but steady tread across the grass.

“Come out, come out,” he sing-songs, uncannily chipper. 

You cannot believe you are about to be beaten so quickly.  It has your head spinning, your heart racing from your run, your adrenaline pounding as he approaches. 

Your heart tempers itself when he stops.  He pokes his head around the fire pit to see if you are hiding there.  

“Sweetheart,” he says, casting his gaze around the yard.  “You don’t need to hide.  I promise I’m not mad.”  He strolls around the pool, looking from here to there, even up at the trees.  He hums thoughtfully to himself.  “Now, now… If I was a troublemaker who needed to learn a lesson, where would I hide…”  He ducks behind a pool chair, frowning.  “Hmm, hmm, hmm…” 

He stands for a minute, tapping his chin.  You want to glean some semblance of your surroundings, but you do not want to take your eyes off him.  You are convinced if you do, he will manifest right beside you.  So you look at the house then at him, the gate then at him, the trees then at him.   You almost want to scream.  He is not even moving and he has you completely captivated, every last sense in your body attuned to him. 

“Pleeeeease,” he says in a long drawl, a cute little tone.  He ambles over to a different storage trunk and lifts the lid.  “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

He slams the lid down so hard it makes the unit wobble.  Even though you are far away, it makes you jump.  You have to cover your mouth to stop a yelp from escaping. 

You stare as he leans over the other unit, peering behind it.  He huffs in frustration when he finds nothing.  Despite the angry grimace, when he stands upright, he is wearing that saccharine smile. 

“You’re hurting my feelings, sweetheart,” he says.  “I thought we were turning into friends.  Don’t you want to be my friend?” 

He flings a chair out of his way, then swiftly drops to his knees to peer under the picnic table.  He is getting closer, bit by bit, which is somehow more terrifying than if he beelined right at you. 

He is giving you time, you realize.  He wants you worked up.  He wants your heart racing.  He wants you quivering and soft and afraid. 

You look around frantically, searching for an escape. 

Your hope rises then plummets.  The back door is ajar but that is an obvious trap.  It leads into the house but there is no way you are crossing the yard without him seeing you. 

You jump at another slam.  It was the shed door.  He is stepping inside it, rifling through the yard tools in case you are crouched inside. 

“Come on,” he says into the shed.  “Don’t be scared.” 

You take a deep breath.  You have only seconds to cross the yard while his back is turned.  You do not waste another moment, jumping to your feet and running as quietly and as quickly as you can. 

He is just as quiet.  You shriek at the sudden arm that catches you, just like it did at the arena.  Felix tackles you onto the grass again, pushing you down on your back and covering your mouth. 

You wrestle him, just like last time, ignoring his laughter as you claw and bite at him. 

“You’re a little mean, you know that?” he says, waving his hand after narrowing dodging your teeth.  He dives back in, undeterred, grabbing your face in one hand.  “Yeah, that’s it,” he says.  “Fight me.  Brat.” 

You do not surrender easily, but he manhandles you with the same effortless skill as before.  There is no doubt he has training that you lack, flipping you in his arm then pushing you down on your front.  You kick your legs as he straddles your backside.  He brings your hands together on the base of your spine. 

You know what is coming and it makes you shriek with frustration.  Just like last time, he slaps the handcuffs on your wrists and locks your hands behind your back. 

“You stupid little—” you start, your words stifled when he puts his hand over your mouth and yanks your head up.  He holds the handcuff key in front of your face, then makes a show of throwing it.  You are pretty sure it is still in his fist, but the very idea has you whimpering into his palm. 

“That’s better,” he says, slowly taking his hand off your mouth.  It hovers like he expects you to start screaming.  You just exhale heavily, glaring.  “All right,” he says.  “Very good.  Come on.” 

You play at obedience long enough to get off the ground.  He helps you stand, then you immediately kick at him.  He tries to grab your leg but you dodge the swipe of his hand, running the opposite way. 

Your balance is thrown, dizzy from the takedown and the handcuffs.  He catches you quickly.   You yelp when he sweeps you off your feet, boasting all that hidden strength again. 

He carries you over to the deck where he drops down, sitting with his legs spread to fit you in between.  With your back to his front, he pulls you against him, an arm across your chest to keep you pinned together. 

“Oh fuck you,” you say, wriggling helplessly. 

“Not quite,” he says, laughing.  “I’ve been picturing something else.” 

He covers your mouth again, catching your shriek when he tugs your shirt open.  The flannel falls down your shoulders and he yanks the tank top down, getting a handful of everything you inadvertently flashed him earlier. 

Despite the force of his initial touch, he is not rough.  You might have kept your cool if he was; you are used to rough, fast, hard.  But his hand is tender, almost loving, a slow touch that trails from your neck down your chest, thumb circling the peak of your nipple before he squeezes your curves in the cup of his hand.   It is maddeningly slow and careful, your whining trapped in the palm of his hand. 

“This is what I was picturing,” he says.  It sounds like a growl, his deep tone just above a rough whisper.  His lips graze your ear and you shiver. 

You gasp, taking in deep gulps of air when he frees your mouth.  A weak whimper is all you manage when he hooks his legs around yours and pries them apart.  His hand dives down to your shorts, making swift work of the buttons. 

“Yup, just what I thought,” he says as his fingers sink inside you.  “Do you feel that?” he asks, as if your attention could be on anything but the thorough, rolling touch of his fingers, torturing the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs.  He slides his fingers into you with no resistance whatsoever. He starts finger-fucking you, laughing when you moan, when you rear up under his hand for more.  “Mmm, yeah, you want it don’t you?”  You try to resist but it is hard, especially when he teases you, making you chase him with your hips.  He just laughs again, slowing his touch maddeningly.  “God, that’s hot,” he says.  “You might be a brat but your pussy...   It’s begging for it, isn’t it?  Does it like this, sweetheart, hmm?  Hmm?” 

He is absolutely torturing you, rubbing those swollen nerves to the crest of an orgasm then withdrawing, again and again, until you swear it burns.  You make a strangled sound, clutching his hand on your chest, still cupped possessively on your naked breast. 

“Tell me,” he says.  “Tell me how much you want me to make you come.” 

“Mmmph,” is your oh-so intelligent reply. 

“You can do better than that,” he says.  “Come on.  Show me how much you want it.  You can’t lie to me, sweetheart.  I can feel it, hmm?  Gonna feel it when you come.  Gonna feel your pussy get nice and tight around my fingers, asking for it, baby—oh yeah, what’s that?  What’s it want?” 

“Ugh, fuck you,” you whine. 

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart,” he says.  “Fuck you.  You can run that pretty mouth but I know what you really need.  You’re gonna be begging me for my cock, to fill you up and make you feel all full for real. Isn’t that right?  Go on.  Show me you want it.  Show me.” 

Your chest is heaving.  Your eyes close.  You concentrate on that orgasm, chasing it desperately.  It approaches rapidly and your thighs start shaking. 

He covers your mouth again, once more predicting you.  He knows you are about to come.  This time he takes you right over, groaning in your ear, clutching you tight while never once slowing the deft thrust of his hand.  You scream into his palm, the intensity of the orgasm washing over you.  The blue light of the pool flickers even with your eyes closed, seeing nothing but blue, blue, blue.   He surrounds you, his voice, his moans, his touch. 

Your hips buck, your heart skipping a frantic beat when pleasure turns to sensitivity. He chuckles but stops, dropping his hand off your mouth.  You catch your breath, slumping against his chest. 

He touches your face with the hand he just used to fuck you, wet fingers streaking across your mouth as he turns your head.  You blink at him and part your lips just for him to shove his fingers in your mouth.  You cannot help but moan, eyes closing as you suck the tangy wetness right off his fingers.  You watch when he takes them back, when he licks them for himself.  Strands of blue fall across his forehead.  He looks as flushed and filthy as you feel. 

He grins around his fingers.  Then he grabs the back of your neck and pulls your face to his.  He kisses you for the first time with the taste of your pussy on both your mouths.  His kiss is deep and bold, as if you are already his.  You are dizzy when he stops, gasping when he pecks your lips with sweet, chaste little kisses. 

“Gonna uncuff you now,” he says softly.  “Because for what we do next…”  He grabs you by the throat and you mewl, clenching around nothing when he rolls his hips under you, showing you how hard he is.  “Yeah, sweetheart.  For that, I need all of you.” 

You sit quietly while he uncuffs you.  You feign complacency, standing on shaky legs when he guides you upright.   You fix your shirt, glaring at him, though it is a little harder while you are still catching your breath. 

He was right about one thing; you need him like you have never needed anyone.  You are throbbing, completely and totally aching with the loss of his touch.  You have never felt such clear pulsations, your body begging for more even while your expression is petulant. 

You follow him to the open door.  One step, two steps. 

Then you say, “Blue.” 

You take off running into the house. 

He laughs incredulously, not even making an attempt to grab you. 

He slams the door shut behind him.  You skid to a stop in the hall, listening to the gentle beeping of the alarm as he arms it from the inside.  It is the same quiet threat as the padlock; there is no escape. 

Giddy, excited, practically vibrating with anticipation, you run and hide.  There are boxes and tables piled high with gadgetry, not to mention his couch and bookshelves and general appliances.  Plenty more places to hide than that big back yard.  And when he finally does find you, when you have worked him up the way he worked you up—

That is what winning is all about. 

You sit in your hiding place, breathing hard.    

“Sweetheart,” Felix says in that too-sweet voice.  His footsteps are slow, unhurried, casual.  “Stop hiding.  I said I didn’t want to hurt you, but if you keep this up…” 

You peer at him between some boxes.  He stops in the middle of the room, catching his breath too.  The glittering amusement has left his eyes.  They are narrowed, his flushed cheeks and sweaty hairline only exacerbating his predatory air. 

He unties his half-ponytail, then bends over to run his fingers through the length of it.  He flips back up, all that blue falling prettily in place.  He licks his lips as he prowls through the room, looking behind boxes, ducking under tables. 

You shuffle with him, moving when he does.  He checks your previous hiding space with a jaunty, “A-ha!” then curses. 

“Come on now,” he says, turning around.  He smiles like a shark, all teeth, hungry despite the innocent flash of a dimple.  “You’re only hurting yourself,” he says.  “I know you, sweetheart.  You’re in here somewhere, and you can’t tell me you’re not thinking about what it’s gonna feel like when I catch you, yeah?  Hmm.  You’re fast.  I bet you’re flexible too.  I bet I can get you into all sorts of positions.  Get you making all sorts of noises for me…” 

It is a struggle to be quiet as you move.  Your limbs are still shaky.  Every word out of his mouth makes your breath catch. 

You swallow hard, freezing when he pauses.  Did he hear that?  Maybe not.  He turns the other way, heaving a deep sigh before he laughs.  It lacks amusement, a harsh sound as he turns and turns. 

“Come out, come out,” he sing-songs.  In a harder voice, he snaps, “Stop hiding from me.”  Then he smiles again.  He turns in your direction slowly.  “You’re not scared of me, are you?” 

You cover your mouth, cowering down when he seems to look right at you.  Your heart is pounding so hard, you would not be surprised if he could hear it, even feel it, shaking this whole damn house. 

“If you come out on your own,” he says, “I promise to make you feel good.  You’ll come so hard, you’ll forget how scared you are.” 

You keep that hand over your mouth, fighting to keep quiet.  It stifles a shriek when he suddenly waves at you, a drole little finger-wiggle.    

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says.  He crouches down, putting himself at eye-level, peering between the boxes that shield you.  “Don’t make me come get you,” he says.  “I’ve been nice, haven’t I? Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”    

You shuffle to the side.  He slaps a hand over his face, shaking his head while he laughs. 

“Right,” he says.  “Fine.  We’ll do it that way.” 

You bolt when he does, shrieking as you clamber around some equipment to get away.  You manage to escape to the foyer, cursing when the automatic lights flash on.  It feels like a spotlight, illuminating you in the middle of that big empty space with no where to hide. 

You can hear Felix stomping after you.  You scurry into the kitchen, looking around frantically for somewhere to hide. 

You yelp when he bursts in behind you.  This time, he does not give.   He grabs you roughly when you try to run again.  With very little effort, like you are scarcely more than a mild inconvenience, he lifts you off your feet and slings you over his shoulder.  He says nothing while you curse and squirm and slap his back. 

“You know what I wonder?” he eventually says, marching you right into the bedroom.  “I wonder… if I make you cry, is that gonna make you tighter, you think?”  He slides you down his body, holding you flush against him.  He smiles.  “Worth a shot, no?” 

And then he handcuffs your wrist to his wrist and tosses the key across the room.

“Oops,” he says. 

He grabs your throat and you gasp, spilling onto the bed when he pushes you.  He puts your on your back then straddles your chest, swiftly unbuttoning his jeans. 

“Open up,” he says, practically prying your mouth open, just giggling when you bite at him.  “If you bite me,” he says, two fingers shoved deep in your mouth, “I promise, I’ll give you something to be fucking scared of.” 

You were right.  You will never see the colour blue the same way again.  You will never be able to settle for anything less than Felix again. 

With a whimpery sigh, you relent, blissful as your mouth falls open.  He shoves his clothes out of his way, just enough.  He is rock hard and wet at the tip when he guides your mouth around his dick.  He cradles your head gently, even if the rest of him is not gentle.

You moan, your pussy literally twitching for attention as he shoves into your throat and makes your eyes water.  You take him well and he groans, pulsing in your mouth when tears start running down your face.  He fucks your mouth and throat, a back and forth that has your seeing stars.  Eventually he pulls back, laughing as runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Oh, baby,” he says.  He reaches down to wipe a tear.  “I wanted to do that the second you started mouthing off to me.”

“Asshole,” you say, though it comes out with a giggle. 

He laughs, sliding down your body to get between your legs. He gets your shorts and underwear out of his way, kissing across your pussy and up your stomach.  He lifts your shirt and crosses your breasts with his mouth, leaving little bite marks in his wake.

With the hand cuffed to yours, he interlocks your fingers sweetly, pressing it into the mattress.  Then he swoops up.  He kisses you, his tongue a soothing touch after everything. 

You moan, literally shaking with need as he smiles against your lips.   He speaks in that low, rasping voice when he says, “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you realize you’re gonna come all over my cock.” 

“Oh god,” is your rough reply. 

“It’s Felix,” he says.  “You’re gonna be screaming it in a second, aren’t you, sweetheart?” 

He has a condom in his bedside drawer.  Though you see him put it on, he still leans down to dirty talk, holding your throat as he whispers, “Was gonna be nice and wrap it, but you don’t like it nice, do you?”  He spreads your legs with his own, pushing down with his hips.  You whimper when the head of his cock glides over where you are very wet and very needy.  “No, sweetheart,” he says.  “I’m gonna have all of you.  And you – are gonna – take it.” 

He punctuates this with short thrusts, gradually easing inside you.  You moan, canting your hips to meet him, needing more.  When he starts fucking you in earnest, your whole body gets pliant like it never has before.  You let him hold you, tethered to him by the handcuffs and something else, something to do with those feelings inside you.  You let them melt into the physical sensations.  When he touches you, working you into an orgasm while he is deep inside you, it all washes over you.  You come with a cry, screaming his name just like he said. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he says.  Your bodies are flush together, chests touching, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist.  His face is in your neck when he laughs.  It is not a fake laugh, not coloured darkly, but ringing with true amusement.  “What’s your name?” he asks.

You laugh too, whispering it against his mouth when he leans in to kiss you.  He groans, kissing you, and says your name against your lips when he comes.  It binds you to him more effectively than the handcuffs. 

You lay there for some time afterward, all that pent-up adrenaline taking its time to dwindle.  He lays on your chest, your free hand in his hair, stroking it.  Eventually he looks at you with wide eyes. 

“I’m not, you know, like that, I mean—” he says. 

“I know,” you reply, massaging the nape of his neck.  You get uncharacteristically bashful.  Usually your partners, being more dominant, are the ones offering consolation to you, and you seldom need much.  Felix, you can tell, needs something, and it draws something out of you that you hardly knew existed.  Something tender and soft, that enjoys touching him and soothing him and making him smile. 

“Do you still have that, uh, feeling?” he later asks. 

You nod.  He smiles. 

“Me too,” he says. 

“That’s nice.  Can we get the handcuff key now?” you ask, making him laugh. 

The handcuffs end up on the floor with your clothes. 

This is usually the part where you run away, but you think you are done with running for a while.  You lay down with Felix, side by side, washed in the neon blue light.  You take a breath and roll onto his chest, resting your head there, and he runs a hand down your back in a soft caress. 

“I’m just glad I didn’t wax for no reason,” you break the silence, making him snort.  He slaps a hand over his face, shaking his head.  “What!  Don’t look at me like that or I’ll try and sneak into another concert when you’re on the clock.”

“Mm, will you?” he asks, grinning.  “I better be prepared.” 

“Oh no, I’m not messing with you.  I’m picking an easier target next time.”

“I’ll find you anyway,” he says.  “Can’t hide from me, sweetheart.”

“Hmm,” you say, hiding your face because that squishy feeling in your chest is back.  “I still won this round.” 

He lifts your face so he can look at you.  Your eyes close when he swoops in and kisses you.  You can’t even pretend to be annoyed with him anymore.  Vexatious vixen, indeed.   

“I think,” he says, “we might have tied this round, sweetheart.” 

“Fine,” you say.  You kiss again, long and sweet.  Then you bop him on the nose.  “But next time it’ll be me.”

He sighs but smiles, shaking his head.  Then he cups your face and pulls you in for another kiss.   

[choccorin]

after school | ft. megumi

tags. fluff , fushiguro megumi x gn!reader, characters are in high school

ever since the start of your first year, you always connect eyes with this boy in your class. fushiguro megumi. when you first saw him, you thought that he's definitely the quiet type, and that he was pretty.

you didn't know much about him, you knew that he doesn't have much friends and he gets into fights sometimes, and according to your best friend — nobara — he has an older sister that goes to the same school and he has a friend in another class, who's always so energetic and ranks first at their p.e class, his name is itadori if you remember correctly.

you've never actually talked to him since you're never been paired in projects or class duties, well — until now. your adviser tasked both of you to help stapling some paperwork after school.

you slide open the door, you’re surprised to see that he’s already here. and he started stapling some of the papers without you.

“sorry for being late.” you shyly uttered, closing the door behind you. the atmosphere in the classroom is awkward — well it’s expected, since this is your first one-on-one interaction.

you sit in the chair across from him, “ woah, i didn't expect this to be this much.”, you awkwardly laugh. megumi hums in response.

that was your attempt at small talk with him, and considering that response, you think you failed. so, to not embarrass yourself any further, you stay silent with him.

10 minutes have passed and the awkward atmosphere isn't going away any time soon. you wanted to take this opportunity to be friends with him but after your last attempt failed, your way too shy to speak again now. it’s troubling you way more than you expected.

you steal a glance at him, admiring his features. this is the first you’ve been this close before, and he really has a pretty face — his eyelashes are longer than some of the girls you know, his face looks soft and smooth to touch, and his eyes are definitely prettier up clos-

“ouch!”

he looks at you, a bit worried. “ are you okay?”

“ huh .. ah, yeah. just a little paper cut.”

he reaches for something in his pocket, “here,” he reaches out, “a band-aid. the blood might stain the paper.”

“t-thank you!” you take the band-aid and rip it open,

“you know, fushigur-”

he cuts you off, “megumi. you can call me megumi.” he says, still stapling the papers.

you’re surprised by this but you’re happy since this means he’s warming up to you, you smile.

“you know, megumi, you’re way nicer than i thought you’d be!” you joyfully say while applying the band-aid to your finger.

he likes it. he likes how you say his first name, he wish that you’ll say it more often now.

“thank you for the band-aid!”

he hums in response, trying to hold back the smile forming on his lips.

you started talking a little bit more and after finishing your task, you both exchanged contacts since you're both friends now, right?

safe to say that both of you went home with a smile on your faces.

a/n. wrote this at 2 am, again. scene is inspired by skip and loafer! a little bit. i enjoyed writing this hehe <3

[lj-lephemstar]

Progress Checkup! (Jan. 2025) | Scratchin' Melodii Devlog

Hey guys! Time for another progress checkup; This is actually the first one of the new year! I hope you were all able to enjoy the holidays. I took a bit of a break from working on most stuff last month and have been getting back on things this month. First, I wanna thank everyone who's wishlisted Scratchin' Melodii on Steam! So far, the game's gotten over 17,000 wishlists! Thanks so much for the support!

In the previous devlog, I mentioned some changes to the rhythm system. In the Dragon Funk preview, you can see the new rhythm system and character icons I mentioned in the previous devlog! Actually, let's unpack some of the new things you're seeing in action there:

Hold Notes This is the first song in the game to include hold-notes! They mostly work the same as they would in any other rhythm game. However, since this game has an emphasis on self expression, moving the control stick during these will let you tune the note's pitch-bend for extra expression points! I showed that off in a post here. As for Pow Notes, I've been working on a way to let the player get expression points from these too! I'd like for most of the special notes like these to be not just a gimmick, but a tool that the player can use to their advantage.

Quadruple Lines Yep! The first blue line in this one is extra long and has 4 rows! Fun fact actually, I had to implement this feature after I realized that part of the song was too long to fit in just two rows. It was pretty difficult to figure out both how to do it and how to execute it in a way that doesn't feel too jarring, but I'm pretty satisfied with the results! In fact, barely anyone's even noticed it; I guess that's just how natural it feels! Not sure how much more often I'll be having lines longer than two rows, but it's great that I have the option now.

AutoPlay You might also notice that the player inputs are perfectly timed... TOO perfect... that's because I've developed an autoplay feature for the game! At the moment, it's mostly for debugging and stuff, but if all goes according to plan, AutoPlay Mode and Replays should hopefully be available to players as well in some form when the game comes out!

"Next" Indicator & Other UI Related QoL Some of the top things players said they had trouble with in the demo were related to being prepared for the next line. So, if you look at the right-end of the rhythm bars, you'll see a little tab that shows the color and amount of rows the next line will have! Also, now each line's suggested notes can be seen before the rival performs them. This did take some thought, as I actually kinda still liked the idea of it appearing as if the characters were making it up on the spot, but to put game design first, it makes more sense to have it displayed as soon as possible so the player has more time to react and prepare. This also opens up more possibilities for future mechanics, so in the long run, I think I've made the best choice here.

Now, let's get into what I've been and/or will be working on that you haven't seen yet!

Act 2's Boss The music for the Act 2 Boss is  nearly complete! I'll likely be starting to animate it pretty soon. This song is the longest one I've done so far, clocking at a duration of a little over 3 minutes long!

More Animation Updates for Stir & Mix At this point, I've done even more cleanups on the sequence you saw in the last devlog and I've finished animating the "I wanna" scene of the song, which will probably have the most changes out of any other scene in the song. When I first animated Stir & Mix, I didn't quite have the time or skills to do everything I really wanted to do with it. That scene in particular I felt was WAY too stiff and boring, especially compared to the more dynamic and fluid scenes that appear in some of the other the stages now. I'd say I'm about halfway done retouching all the animations for this one!

Refined Model Sheets I don't talk about these very often, but sometime around 2023 I started using model/reference sheets for the characters. (I might show them off someday, but for now they're staying private!) Before this point, the designs are pretty inconsistent from shot to shot, so this helped a lot with that. Recently, I've done some revisions I'm really pleased with. Their designs are finally becoming... well, final! I'll be reworking the affected characters' hub world sprites at some point to reflect these changes.

Slight Reworks for some Act 1 Songs On the sound side, Stir & Mix's vocals have been reworked again! As I've mentioned in the previous devlog, 2cada's tuning style and techniques have evolved a bit since we first started working together, so we thought it'd be fun to go back and incorporate some of that into it. We'll also probably be reworking the structure of Nami's song a little bit at some point just to make it a feel a bit more solid, which may require a new line or two from her voice actor, Meggie-Elise! So funnily enough, it seems some of the songs will have end up having TWO unused beta versions after this.

Also, a quick PSA: Please note that beta versions of content will NOT be included in the full game. I've heard people ask for them to be "brought back" or toggleable, but in my situation something like that is both easier said than done and I also just... don't want to LOL. With as many directions I can take this game, I know I can't satisfy everyone, but I can make a game that satisfies me, so I'm aiming for that! And hey, maybe other people will like it too.

I think that's all I wanna talk about for now! Thanks so much for reading. It can be a bit of a daunting task to write these at times, but I'm glad to keep you up to date on the project when I can.

-LJ

[odxrilove]

☆ STRAY KIDS AND HOW YOUR RELATIONSHIP IS REVEALED

pairing: stray kids x fem!reader

genre: fluff, idol!au, established relationships, 1.5k

a/n: request by anon! song rec - day 1 by red velvet.

back to masterlist! seventeen version here!

☆ BANGCHAN  

you and chan had been together for a couple of years now and to say you were both getting impatient at your agencies’ reluctance to reveal your relationship was an understatement. so one day, chan decides he’s got enough. he asks his manager what would happen if people found out about you two, and when he learns that he won’t get kicked out nor be put on hiatus, he’s determined to go against whatever advice his pr team told him. it’s soon valentine’s day and you’re out on a date, in the open. you’re not wearing anything to hide your identity and chan’s so proud when you hold his hand for everyone to see. you both feel your phones buzzing in your pockets but your reservation at a cute restaurant is more important to you. you know you might get scolded by your managers but when you see all the many positive reactions from your fans, you’re just happy you decided to not wear a mask and sunglasses that day.

☆ LEE KNOW

you and your boyfriend follow a simple routine, going to work early, practicing and attending schedules during the day and leaving for home late at night. it’s easy, simple, but never gets boring, the conversations or the comfortable silence on the ride back home make up for missing each other’s presence during the day. as your relationship is still a secret to the public, you wait for the other in the building’s underground parking lot, sunglasses and cap on. you’ve never been caught before and you always manage to get home without trouble. on some rough days, a small step gets added to the simple routine– a makeout session, right in the car in the underground parking lot. honestly, you should have been more careful, looking at your surroundings and checking if someone was around instead of throwing your arms around lee know’s neck the moment he stepped into your car. but then again, lee know would have thrown himself at you instead. guess there was no way to avoid having your faces plastered all over the internet the next day. 

☆ CHANGBIN  

decides to film a vlog one day and goes to the gym at the end of it. the short “gym” scene doesn’t last long and is sped up but fans still notice the light yellow metal bottle next to the leg press machine and almost out of the camera’s view. the metal bottle seems familiar to some and they realize it’s because you have the same one. you had bought it and showed it to fans when you decided to go to the gym more regularly. not even a day later, multiple theories pop up on social media about how you and changbin have been “gyming” together with ultimate proof, your water bottle. what doesn’t help calm the rumors down are your posts on bubble, where you grieve the loss of your dear metal water bottle because you accidentally forgot it at the gym. your relationship is truly revealed only months later though (because let’s be honest, a water bottle isn’t real proof), when you and changbin film a gym vlog together. 

☆ HYUNJIN

you are both invited to a certain fashion show as the global ambassadors for that famous brand and decide it’s a good time to sneak out for a little while paparazzi are infesting the place. after sitting on uncomfortable chairs for hours and having to listen to business people gloat about their new contract and brand deals, you and hyunjin slip away for a few minutes, just enough to share a few romantic kisses and regain enough energy to get through the day. you didn’t think you would get caught to be honest, but one amateur and curious paparazzi ruins your little bubble with hyunjin. the flashes and the clicks of the camera brings you both back to earth and you’re pissed. after glaring at the paparazzi, you both manage to sneak back to your seats but the damage is already done. you’re already trending all over social media and getting lots of texts from your manager on the way back to the hotel that same night. 

☆ JISUNG

jisung likes to produce and compose lots of songs, for his job as an idol but also in his free time. you, his dear partner, has always been one of his biggest supporters, and as one of the closest persons in his life, jisung often dedicates songs to you. it’s really sweet, the way he would spend some time working on a song before calling you to come over to the studio so he could show you. you always react the same way when finding out the song is about you, tears forming in your eyes and cheeks and ears turning red. You’ve helped him a lot since debut, stayed by his side and encouraged him, so with each year passing by, the number of songs dedicated to you become ridiculously higher– Jisung even had to make a separate folder on his laptop for all those songs. that’s how people find out too. the group films a behind the scenes video of a song recording, and the editors hadn’t noticed that the folder with songs about you was visible on jisung’s screen. to be fair, you could barely see it, but fans still notice it, your name in bold letters. 

☆ FELIX

even before you and felix started dating, he had always been so supportive of you, buying your group’s albums, congratulating you on your music show wins, and showering you in praise after every performance��� it was easy falling in love with him. his support only doubled when you officially got together; he would bring you your favorite snacks, give you water backstage and casually recommend your group’s music during his lives. he followed you on bubble too, and the fact he only follows you on there makes you giddy every time. however, you had never thought people would find out about your secret love through the app. it was during an interview that the journalist asked his group how bubble worked, and felix answered quickly, explaining it all from the point of view of a fan. he received many confused stares back and he, as naive as he is, could only retaliate that he’s subscribed to your bubble, so he knows how it work. chaos ensues and he truly does not know how to repair it, only further aggravating the situation by telling his fans he’s only subscribed to your bubble and no other artists when people asked him about their favs.

☆ SEUNGMIN  

ever since you had started dating, you were both really good at hiding your relationship– you both paid a lot of attention to your behaviors and actions so as to not raise any suspicions, because even though you were confident the relationship would last, you weren’t sure if your fans would react positively. getting stressed and breaking up because of the public’s bad reaction was definitely not part of what you wanted. however, you didn’t expect for people to find out anyway, almost crying when you found out the public ‘knew’. that didn’t stop you from gaping at the dispatch article though– they thought you two were dating because of snacks?! turns out that fans knew you pretty well, being aware you hated oranges although you bought them weekly (for him). same thing on seungmin’s side of the fandom, he weekly bought spicy food (for you), although he swore he couldn’t stand it. it was definitely unexpected how fast fans managed to come to the conclusion you were dating, but hey, at least you didn’t have to divert the subject anymore when someone asked you why you bought orange flavored candy. 

☆ JEONGIN

one of the things that really helped you and jeongin get together was how often your schedules lined up. being under two different companies made it harder to see each other but more often than not, your comebacks would happen around the same time, allowing you and jeongin to meet up backstage at music shows. both your groups were aware of your relationship so they sometimes helped you two sneak away to meet– they couldn’t stand hearing both of you whine about missing the other any longer. what you liked the most during those music shows was how often your and jeongin’s group were competing for a music show win. for your latest comebacks, your group had won against his and when you glanced over at your boyfriend, the one thing he did was blow you a subtle kiss and mouth “i love you”. you mouthed it back and thought that was the end of it, until both of you were trending on twitter, a video of you two blowing kisses to each other from across the stage going viral.

taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @blaqpinksthetic @odetoyeonjun @pockyandme @soobin-chois @soobisms @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse @enhacolor @honglynights @starry-mins @bibinnieposts @yoonzin0 @equalheart @pointlessapple @yyx2 @enluv

please do not copy, steal or repost any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove

[faerygrant]

protective carmy thoughts

Carmen sometimes has issues with respecting your privacy. I know it sounds weird but from seeing the scene where he reads Sydney’s journal? I think this man mistakes his anxiety as a reason to be kind of overbearing and possessive about you. Like he’d never admit it but he’s guilty of once going through your journal, because well, you belong to him and he has the right to know the things his girl is feeling.

Also think he’s the kind who would always need to know who you’re on the phone with, this one isn’t about possessiveness but it’s more the anxiety in him. Everytime a phone rings his heart drops, because he’s come to associate calls with the same bleak one that he received after his brothers death. Literally if Carmen watches you answer the phone and make a subtle frown or senses a change in your tone he’s tapping you on the shoulder to ask if somethings wrong or if anyone’s in trouble. He really just can’t help himself. Another thing is him always subconsciously watching over you, if you’re at the restaurant stopping by he’s looking out every five seconds to make sure you’re good. When the two of you are at the farmers market he’ll literally go into a mini panic attack if you so much as walk 5 metres ahead of him. He’s shuffling quickly to catch up to you and putting a protective hand on your waist and making sure you stay right there with him.

He especially hates when you get ogling stares from other men, he doesn’t blame you at all because he knows you can’t help how shitty men can be. So he always makes sure you’re standing right by him, hand on your waist, around your shoulder or he’ll be standing behind you with both his big hands tightly gripping your hips. The ogling from “weird fuckos” as he calls them is just motivation for him to buy you the biggest shiniest glistening engagement ring when he pops the question, because that way your blinding rock will ensure that those freaks know who it is you belong to, him. Even better is when he knocks you up a year after the wedding, your round belly letting everyone know that’s you belong to Carmen Berzatto and no one else.

When you’re out with friends is when Carmy literally loses it. He loves your friends and obviously doesn’t mind you going out with them, but again it’s the anxiousness and overthinking that just makes him spiral. You won’t even be gone for 30 minutes and he’s already sulking on the couch wondering if you’re okay, if you’re watching your drinks, if you’ve got the pepper spray he got you. Just all sorts of crazy thoughts, but you knowing the way he is always make sure to give him little updates throughout the night with added photos which makes him so happy and leaves him feeling secure.

[teotheratking]

ABOUT JEAN: The monthly discourse

Damn and I thought we were past monthly Jean discourse, y'all are quite off schedule this time.

I do think it's funny how Jean-Heron Vicquemare continues to be The Public Enigma with what could be equivalent of 5 minutes of screen time. All of his appearances can be put into 3 groups: worrying/searching for Harry, watching over Harry, spending 45 minutes on insulting him. So it only makes sense how his discourse as well is surrounded by conversation, what is his relationship with Harry? Him being Harry's Satellite officer is like another added layer to how his whole existence seems in a constant orbit around the center of the Earth - Harrier Du Bois.

When discussing both of these characters I think it is crucial to strip them down layer by layer. When we're doing this Harry and Jean, I think we see far too quickly, how similar they are even with many differences: both are addicts, depressed, having facial scarrings and, of course, both are cops.

When looking at them from purely 'superior and subordinate perspective, they remind me of Robert Eggers script from The Lighthouse (2019) particularly this bit:

The Lighthouse explores the themes of capitalism and perpetual cycles of new and old generations: Young and Old.

We can see similar themes explored in DE as well. The game isn't afraid of constantly putting the players head into the mud, saying: "Yeah, it is that shit." RCM is a constantly moving system that lures people in with the promise of help for community and spits out a hollow husk of their former selves. Though I would say it doesnt do that either as most of them die before ever reaching retirement age.

Harry is surrounded by old dog imagery.

Particularly dogs that are about to be put down or are already dead. I particularly love this segment of the game with Joyce - it is clear that in this segment the black dog licking his wound is Harry, who's getting put down by the system he works in. But what I think makes the scene even better is what follows it:

Every officer's fate in RCM is the same.

It's the years of violence, brutality, system that eats those, who help and enables those, who hurt. It's speed, alcohol, never ending poverty, and as years go by another officer is closer and closer to finally pull the trigger on the old dog that you have become.

One final act in the Disco Inferno.

And there's inescapable horror in all of this: seeing what you will become, what you're bound to become. Looking in the mirror and staring at your partner's reflection - ever present reminder: "This will be you in 10 years to come."

When Jean says "trying," what he actually means is "functional." Having context of RCM system and inherent ableism of it, I think it's safe to say, that "to try" means "to succeed."

Jean isn't anymore functional than Harry as he is simply younger. Harry through entirety of the game is experiencing raining bonefire of decades of drug abuse and effects of poverty and long lasting emotional physical abuse. Meanwhile, Jean is yet to experience the crashing sun. He has 10 years to do so.

In perpetual vortex that is this sinking ship, partnership and comradery, become essentials for survival. Harry and Jean form particularly tight bond, tight enough that both can't evade speculations about their sexuality or type of relationship they have, thus "hetero-sexual life partners" are born.

I see a lot of people insisting, that those two relationship, that they had is what we can see right now in the game: partnership that feels more like a race of self destruction, while putting sticks in each other's metaphorical bicycles. To see which one falls first. But I feel this is complete controdictory to what we hear from the game:

"Trouble in paradise" - I wouldn't use those words if my two coworkers, who try to sabotage each other on the daily would finally get into all consuming fight. Though what do I know about male-centric workplace humour.

No matter, which way you choose to look at it, at the events of Disco Elysium, Jean's and Harry's relationship is at their absolute worst. Rock bottom. Maybe even beyond it, though that depends how one evaluates forgetting 44 years of your life except lost ex goes into equation. What we see is culmination of their every moment together - good and bad, which erupts into terrible earthquake.

Finally, what we see of Jean and Harry's relationship is supposed to be merely introduction, or at least was (Kurwitz pls, let me read the scripts). By small bits and pieces Luiga has decided to reveal to the public is that Jean is supposed to be one of main partners of the second game featuring The Return.

This doesn't deny Jean's role as The Jury or The Executioner in the Final Tribunal. He represents RCM's bigotry, ableism and hypocrisy of it all - a broken system of a destructive cycle - ouroboros eating it's own tail. However at the end of the day he's as much a person as any other in Elysium - full of complexity and nuance, the verdict of we simply do not have enough information of.

Finally at the end of this... I don't know what to even call this, I have no idea how one would arrive to concrete conclusion, that is either: "Jean good' or "Jean bad." All game's characters are some kind of moraly grey - this isn't a MARVEL movie or a fairy tale that people want it to be. It is a commentary of cultures that we all have grown up in. For me DE really resonates from Baltic States history and culture context, because this is all I've ever known.

[jeonsblackgf-writes]

When the Tide Turns | Rafe Cameron

summary: the one where rafe is in love with his bestfriend’s sister

warnings: none i believe

word count: 4,212

——————————————

Rafe Cameron was never one for introspection. He preferred to live in the now, to act without hesitation, to indulge in whatever fleeting desires life offered. That was, until her. He knew it was a bad idea. He’d known it from the very first time he saw her — leaning against the railing of the Cameron family’s porch, laughing at something Kelce had said, her dark skin glowing golden in the afternoon sun. Her eyes, dark and deep like the night sky, shone with a curious mischief. He had caught himself staring, unable to look away, even as his best friend and the rest of the group continued their chatter around him.

"Rafe, you good?" Kelce had asked, snapping Rafe out of his daze.

Rafe had forced a smile, masking the turmoil inside. "Yeah, just thinking about something."

But that was the first time it hit him—he was in trouble.

He had tried to ignore it, told himself it was a phase, a simple crush that would fade. After all, Kelce was his best friend. He had known him for years. The thought of jeopardizing that bond for some fleeting attraction was beyond stupid. But every time he saw her, he couldn’t help it. The flutter in his chest when she looked at him. The way her laughter made everything else in the world fade into the background. He wasn’t used to feeling this way. In fact, he had never really felt this way about anyone. Rafe wasn’t the type to pine. He wasn’t the type to get caught up in anything more than a quick fling or a simple hookup. But with her? It was different. And that scared him.

It was the summer before their senior year of college and the Cameron beach house was filled with the usual chaos. The Outer Banks was at its peak tourist season, and the group of friends was used to spending most of their time down by the water. Rafe and his buddies, , had spent the day surfing and lounging in the sand, while the girls — and of course , Nia — had stayed behind at the house to cool off and relax. Nia was Kelce’s older sister, the one he’d always mentioned in passing but rarely brought around. She was a couple of years older than Rafe and the rest of the gang, which made her seem like this mysterious figure who was always out of reach. But Rafe had always noticed her. He wasn’t blind. She had this effortless elegance, something so unbothered about her presence that it drew people in.

And yet, she never seemed to be the type to crave attention. Her quiet confidence was intoxicating.

Nia had always been a little different from the others. The group would go out, get into trouble, and she’d hang back, listening to music or reading, never making a scene. She was insanely beautiful, almost too beautiful to be true. That was probably part of the reason why Rafe was so drawn to her—she didn’t *need* the attention. She wasn’t one to beg for validation. She simply was. But that afternoon, she was standing by the kitchen counter, wearing a flowy sundress that caught the late afternoon light. Her hair was braided loosely, a few strands framing her face, and she was making something to drink, humming to herself.

Rafe found himself watching her again. The way her fingers curled around the glass, the faint smile on her lips as she adjusted the jug of lemonade—he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She was so beautiful, and yet so effortless about it. She wasn’t trying to be, and that made her even more captivating. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Kelce’s voice calling from the door.

"Yo, Rafe! Earth to Cameron!"

Rafe snapped back to reality, turning around with a sheepish grin. "Yeah?"

Kelce raised an eyebrow, following Rafe’s gaze and grinning. "You’ve been staring at my sister for, like, ten minutes, bro. You good?"

Rafe’s heart skipped. The last thing he needed was Kelce noticing, but there was no denying the tension in the air. "I’m fine," he said quickly, his tone more clipped than he intended. "Just... zoning out."

Kelce chuckled, but Rafe could see the glint of amusement in his eyes. "Just don’t make it weird, man," he teased, stepping inside. "She’s a lot to handle."

Rafe couldn’t help but grin mischievously , though his stomach twisted at the thought of handling Nia. It was a dangerous game to play. A game or two never hurt anybody. Kelce leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "She’s way out of your league anyway."

Rafe bristled. "You don’t know that."

Kelce shrugged, his expression growing more serious, knowing his sister. "Trust me, I do."

Rafe wondered what he meant by that.

——————————————

Later that evening, the group gathered around the fire pit. The sun had set, and the sky was painted in hues of purple and orange as the waves crashed in the distance. Everyone was lounging on chairs, drinking beers, telling stories, and joking around, but Rafe couldn’t seem to relax. He kept glancing over at Nia, who sat a little further off, watching the fire with an enigmatic expression. The way she was sitting—her legs crossed, her chin resting in her hand—looked almost too perfect. And then, when she caught him staring again, she didn’t look away. Instead, she smiled.

A slow, knowing smile. She was baiting him. Rafe felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He looked away quickly, trying to act as though nothing was out of the ordinary, but it was too late. The pull between them, that silent acknowledgment, was too strong. He could feel it in the air, thick and suffocating.

"Yo, Rafe, you gonna sit with us, or are you just gonna stare at my sister all night?" Kelce’s voice rang out, loud and unashamed. The entire group laughed, but Rafe’s heart was pounding in his chest. This wasn’t good. He was spiraling, and he had no idea how to stop it. Nia’s voice interrupted the chaos, light and teasing. "Don’t worry, Kelce. Rafe’s probably just thinking about how to ask me out."

Rafe froze. The words hung in the air, as though they had a weight of their own. The fire crackled, the sound of the ocean filling in the silence that followed.

Kelce shot Rafe a look that was half amused, half suspicious. "You’re not really thinking about that, are you?"

Rafe stood up, his pulse racing. "I—"

Before he could say anything more, Nia’s soft laughter rang out, cutting him off. "I’m just messing with you, Rafe."

The tension in his chest didn’t loosen, though. If anything, it only made the moment more awkward, more uncertain.

It wasn’t long after that evening that things between Rafe and Nia started to shift. There was a subtle change in the air whenever they were in the same room. The awkwardness faded, replaced by a comfortable tension that both of them could feel but neither dared to acknowledge. They spent more time together, often alone, without the group around. The first time it happened was when Rafe found himself alone in the kitchen, trying to fix his broken surfboard. Nia appeared out of nowhere, leaning against the doorframe with a cup of coffee in her hands, watching him in that quiet way she did.

"You need help with that?" she asked, voice low but full of humor.

Rafe shook his head, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. "I think I’ve got it, thanks."

She leaned closer, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Are you sure? Because I’m pretty good with tools, among other things."

The way she said it made Rafe’s stomach flip. His mind raced, unsure of whether he was imagining things, or if Nia was actually flirting with him. But before he could respond, she disappeared, her laughter trailing behind her.

—————————

It had been three weeks since Rafe Cameron first realized he was in over his head. Three weeks since the day Nia had arrived at the beach house, laughing at something Kelce had said, with that effortlessly cool vibe of someone who didn’t care about anything but enjoying the moment. From the first moment Rafe saw her, something in him shifted. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but everything felt different now.

But Nia wasn’t the type to make a scene. She was quietly confident, always in the background, like she had nothing to prove. It was that quiet strength that drew him in, but also made him feel like he was chasing something out of his reach. She wasn’t like the other girls he’d been with—more than just a pretty face with a smile that lit up a room. Nia had this presence, this calm, but also a mysterious, guarded aura that Rafe couldn’t shake. And the worst part? She seemed oblivious. At least, that’s what he told himself. Part of him hoped she knew the things he wanted to do to her, the way he thought about her. Kelce would lose it.

Rafe didn’t talk about his feelings. He didn’t have feelings, at least not for anyone who wasn’t a fleeting distraction. But Nia… she made him question everything. Every lingering glance, every laugh that vibrated in his chest, every time she brushed by him so close he could smell the coconut oil in her hair—it was like a spark in the dry kindling of his usual indifference. The fire was building, and he was terrified that it would burn everything to the ground.

---

The tension between Rafe and Nia wasn’t something that could be pinpointed on a single day. It was a slow, gradual thing, like the rising tide inching toward the shore, barely noticeable at first, but inevitable. Every time she smiled at him, Rafe felt that pull—a magnet drawing him in, an invisible thread weaving between them. And every time he caught her looking at him, her gaze lingering just a beat longer than necessary, his heart would skip in a way he’d never felt before. It was during those quiet moments that the tension truly began to take shape. No one else seemed to notice it. Kelce, his boys, and the rest of the group were too wrapped up in their own drama, too carefree to see what was happening. But Rafe couldn’t ignore it.

The first real turning point came one afternoon when Rafe found himself alone with Nia in the kitchen. It had been a long day of surfing, and most of the group had scattered to do their own thing—Kelce had disappeared to the beach to meet some friends, and the others were lounging in the living room. Rafe had made himself a sandwich, but the sound of the blender whirring stopped him in his tracks. Nia was at the counter, her back to him, slicing fruit for a smoothie. The low hum of the blender and the soft rustle of her movements were oddly soothing, and Rafe found himself standing there, watching her. She was wearing a simple tank top with no bra and shorts, her dark skin glowing in the soft light. The way her hands moved, so purposeful and graceful, made him feel like he was witnessing something intimate—something private. Rafe didn’t mean to stare. But he couldn’t help it. There was something about her that pulled him in. His breath hitched once he seen the jewelry around her nipples.

Nia turned, catching his gaze. The air between them thickened. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a playful smile. "You need something?" she asked, her voice casual but with a hint of something deeper—something teasing. Rafe cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how awkward he must look. "Just… watching the magic happen," he muttered, his words coming out rougher than he’d intended. Nia’s smile grew wider, and she leaned against the counter, studying him. "You know," she said slowly, "you’ve been acting a little… off lately."

Rafe stiffened. "Off?"

"Yeah. Staring into space, zoning out during conversations. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve got this… look in your eyes." She paused, and the playful edge to her voice softened. "Like you’re thinking about something. Or someone."

Rafe swallowed hard. His heart thudded in his chest, and for a moment, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Had she noticed? Had she known all along?

He forced a chuckle, trying to brush it off. "Nah, just tired. Been surfing all day."

But Nia didn’t look convinced. Her eyes never left him, and there was a knowing quality to her gaze that made his insides twist.

"Okay," she said slowly, dragging out the word. "But you don’t have to act so weird around me, Rafe. I’m not gonna bite."

The way she said it sent a ripple of heat through him. The teasing tone, the way her voice dipped just slightly at the end—was she flirting with him? He couldn’t tell. Maybe it was just his imagination running wild. But even then, that seed was planted. He couldn't shake the feeling that the tension between them had shifted just a little. Maybe she was picking up on something too. Maybe she was playing with him, testing the waters. But whatever it was, it was undeniably there, and it was dangerous.

————————————-

The days that followed were a blur of stolen moments and heavy silences. There were no direct confessions—no grand gestures, no open acknowledgment of the pull that seemed to grow between them. Instead, it was the little things. The way Nia would brush against him when she passed him in the hallway, always so close, always so deliberate. The way her eyes would meet his across a crowded room, and for just a second, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. She bent over in front of him any chance she got, wearing skirts most of the time so that he could see her different color thongs. Rafe couldn’t seem to stop himself from responding, his body reacting instinctively, always wanting to bridge the distance. He was a guy who’d never been afraid of the chase, but with Nia, it wasn’t about that. It was about something else Something deeper, something that made him feel more vulnerable than he was willing to admit.

He didn’t understand it, and he hated the way it made him feel.

————————————

It was the night of the full moon when it all came to a head. The group had gathered on the beach for a bonfire. The ocean stretched out before them, dark and infinite, the waves crashing against the shore. The air was thick with salt and laughter, the sound of crackling wood filling the space between them. Rafe was drunk. Not enough to lose control, but just enough to feel reckless. The night was fading, the sky darkening above them, and everyone was starting to break off in pairs or small groups. But Rafe couldn’t take his eyes off Nia. She was sitting by the fire, her long legs stretched out in front of her, her face illuminated by the flames as she talked with Kie. It was so easy to let his gaze wander over her—so natural. She had this way of commanding attention without trying. The firelight danced on her skin, highlighting the sharp angles of her cheekbones, the curve of her lips. Everything about her seemed to draw him in like a moth to a flamee.

It was at that moment, when she glanced over and caught his gaze, that Rafe felt his heart skip. She didn’t look away immediately. In fact, she held his gaze for a beat too long before a sly smile tugged at her lips, and she turned back to Kie. But the damage was done. The pull between them had shifted into something undeniable.

A few moments later, Rafe found himself alone by the edge of the water, trying to cool off. He wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore—he just needed a break from the intensity of the night. But then he heard her footsteps behind him.

"Nia," he said, turning just as she stopped beside him, close enough that their arms brushed.

"You’ve been acting weird again," she said, her voice low but direct. Rafe let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. "You don’t give up, do you?"

She smiled, but there was something different in her eyes now—something more serious. "You think I don’t notice?"

Rafe didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, Nia took a step closer, her body now inches from his. "I’ve been noticing," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper above the crashing waves. "I know what you’ve been thinking."

Rafe’s breath hitched in his throat. His body tensed, every muscle screaming at him to back away, to walk away before things went too far. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to.

"You don’t know what I’m thinking," he said, his voice rough.

"I think I do," she replied, her hand brushing lightly against his arm, sending a shock of heat through him. It was the first time she had touched him like that. It was enough to set everything in motion. Rafe turned to face her, his heart hammering in his chest. "And what is that?" he asked, his voice barely more than a growl.

Nia’s eyes flickered down to his lips before locking onto his gaze again. "That you’re trying to resist something that’s already happening."

———————————-

Rafe’s breath hitched in his chest at her words. For a moment, he was frozen, unable to move, his mind racing a million miles a minute. The pull between them felt *too much*—like the tension in the air before a storm, just waiting to break. His pulse hammered in his neck, and he couldn’t look away from her. Nia was so close now that he could feel the warmth of her body, the faint scent of coconut oil on her skin, the sweet, intoxicating fragrance of the summer evening air. She was standing just inches from him, but the distance between them felt like a chasm.

“You’re not wrong,” Rafe muttered before he could stop himself. His words hung in the air like an admission he hadn’t meant to make.

Nia’s lips parted slightly as she processed his response, her gaze never leaving his face. She didn’t smile this time, but her eyes softened. The playful edge that had usually colored her voice was gone, replaced by something more sincere, more searching.

“I didn’t think you’d admit it so easily,” she said quietly, taking a small step closer, her hand now hovering just above his. Her touch was almost electric, just a fraction of an inch from his skin, and it made Rafe’s heart race even faster.

He wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore, but the air between them was thick, heavy with something that felt far too real to ignore. Nia was looking at him like she was trying to decipher him—her eyes searching his face, trying to figure out if what he’d just admitted was the truth.

“Why do you keep doing this?” Rafe asked, his voice hoarse, betraying the uncertainty gnawing at him. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

Nia raised an eyebrow, a glint of something almost amused in her eyes. “Like what?”

“Like I’m the only thing that matters in the room.” His voice cracked slightly, and he winced. Damn it. That wasn’t supposed to happen. But it was too late. The words had left his mouth, and now the floodgates were open.

Nia was quiet for a beat, but when she spoke again, her voice was low, almost a whisper, as though she were letting him in on a secret only the two of them shared. “Maybe because you *are* the only thing that matters, Rafe.”

The weight of her words hit him like a punch to the gut. His heart seemed to stop for a second, before it started pounding faster, a crescendo of emotion building inside of him. He wanted to pull away—he needed to pull away—but his feet felt like they were glued to the sand. It was too late now. The magnetic force between them had already snapped.

Rafe exhaled shakily, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let his guard down. All of the pent-up frustration, the confusion, the desire—it all came crashing down on him at once. He stepped forward, closing the remaining gap between them until there was no space left. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, smell the saltwater on her skin mixed with the faint scent of her perfume.

Nia didn’t pull back. She didn’t run, didn’t hesitate. Instead, she stood her ground, her eyes locked on his, unwavering.

“What are we doing, Nia?” Rafe breathed out, his voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air between them, charged with everything they hadn’t said to each other up until now.

Nia’s lips parted, her breath mingling with his, and for a moment, Rafe thought she might say something, anything that would pull them back from the edge. But she didn’t. Instead, she closed the distance between them, just a fraction of an inch, and pressed her hand to his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath her fingers. Her touch was soft, delicate even, but it sent a shock of heat through Rafe, and the tension between them became unbearable.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Nia said quietly, her voice barely audible over the crashing of the waves. There was a vulnerability in her words that Rafe hadn’t expected. It was raw, unguarded in a way he hadn’t seen before.

Her hand slid from his chest up to his jaw, her fingers brushing lightly against his skin. He could feel the heat of her touch radiating through him, like a fire igniting inside him, and he couldn’t resist anymore. He stepped forward again, tilting his head slightly, eyes dropping to her lips. Everything else seemed to fall away.

The world around them, the sound of the waves, the crackling fire on the beach—it all blurred into the background. There was only Nia. Only this moment. Before he could second-guess himself, before he could talk himself out of it, Rafe leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against hers. It was a soft kiss at first—hesitant, almost tentative, as if neither of them wanted to break the fragile tension that had built between them for so long. But the moment their lips met, something inside Rafe snapped. The kiss deepened, slow and languid, as if they had all the time in the world, but neither of them was willing to let go of the moment.

Nia’s hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer, and Rafe responded in kind, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her into him until there was no space left between them. The kiss was everything he hadn’t known he was craving—passionate, desperate, but with a tenderness that made his chest ache.

For a moment, it was like the entire world had disappeared. There was only the two of them, tangled together in a kiss that felt like it had been a long time coming. Rafe didn’t know what to do with the feelings swirling inside him. All he knew was that he wanted more. But when they finally broke apart, breathing heavily, the world came crashing back into focus. Nia was looking up at him, her eyes wide and breathless, her lips slightly swollen from the kiss.

Rafe’s heart was still racing, his mind still reeling. “What the hell was that?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion, but with a trace of disbelief.

Nia bit her lip, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I think that was the moment we stopped pretending we weren’t feeling this.”

Rafe’s chest tightened. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed her to say that, to make it real. “And now what?”

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes searching his face. “Now? I don’t know, Rafe. But we can’t keep pretending this doesn’t matter.”

He nodded slowly, feeling a mix of relief and fear flood through him. “You’re right.” His voice was rough, barely a whisper. He could feel the weight of the unspoken words, the ones they both knew they weren’t quite ready to say yet.

Nia’s eyes softened, and she took a step back, but only just. Her fingers lingered on his arm, like she wasn’t ready to let go either.

“We take it one step at a time,” she said softly, her gaze never leaving his. “No pressure. Just… us.”

Rafe exhaled, his heart still pounding in his chest, but somehow lighter. “Yeah. One step at a time.”

As they stood there, just a breath apart, the tension between them hadn’t faded. It had only shifted—into something new, something uncharted. Rafe knew that whatever happened next would change everything. But for now, this was enough. This was the start of something neither of them could walk away from, even if they tried.

The waves crashed against the shore, and the world seemed to hold its breath.

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Eight

Summary

When whining about season selection to your therapist turns into confronting the complicated ways that Astarion makes you feel, she challenges you to really explore what it is that you - or perhaps your subconscious - want.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2.6k Tags/Warnings: imagined D/s dynamic, light bondage, ascended Astarion lines, vaginal fingering, masturbation

Thank god this girl is finally getting into therapy, am I right? I don't have a ton to say other than now that the major conflict I had planned is winding down, it's going to be a lot more about exploration from here on out.

Once again, Zaria is out here killing it with these screenshots!

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

You massage your temples in an attempt to ease your headache. Season selection has been going terribly – every meeting just ended with everyone talking in circles. Today, it’s Alfira’s turn to make her case as to why hers is the best choice.

“I just think that it would do our students a lot of good to have this outlet to talk about their mental health,” she insists, bleeding heart that she is.

“I’m not necessarily saying I disagree with you,” you begin, gears in your head turning as you formulate your thoughts. “But isn’t Heathers, like, dark to the point of troubling?”

“Well sure, it’s dark, but what do you mean troubling?” Her eyes are big and round, and you try to imagine someone as tender as Alfira blocking a scene like “Dead Girl Walking.” It’s not easy.

“I’ve seen the way teen girls talk about the character JD, it’s a little concerning.” You fold your arms and lean back in your chair, studying Alfira’s expression carefully as it twists into a frown.

“I mean, sure, some of them think he’s cute, but I don’t think anyone is looking at him and thinking ‘boyfriend goals.’” 

“Are you sure? Have you seen the TikToks for that one song? What’s-it-called, the ‘open the door’ song.” Your fingers twitch towards your phone, fighting the urge to pull up the app.

“Yeah, ‘Meant to be Yours,’ I’ve seen them, and I think they’re fairly harmless. They know it’s not real, you know?” She fiddles with the pen in her hand, not taking her eyes off you. You squirm, uncomfortable under her persistent gaze.

“Maybe you’re right. I don’t know.” You look down at your notes, giving yourself a second to think. “Something about the way they talk about JD makes me feel icky. JD as a character makes me feel icky. Besides,” you add quickly before she gets that puppy dog look in her eyes, “I don’t know if building around a theme of ‘mental health’ is specific enough to be interesting. I’m not even sure I can think of a classical play that fits into that.”

“Perhaps Hamlet?” Lucretious says with a smirk, and you groan loudly as others in the meeting titter.

“Gods, please, literally anything else,” you whine. 

The discussion continues, going absolutely nowhere, until the clock ticks over and everyone starts to pack up their things. Another meeting gone, and you’re no closer to having a season for next year. You put away your notebook and Alfira comes up beside you.

“Just think on it a little more,” she implores. “The kids have talked a lot about wanting to do Heathers, I’m just advocating for them.”

“But do you think it’s a good, timely choice? You, the professor?” you ask suspiciously, trying to scope out her intentions.

“I really do, yes. I think there’s a reason why they’re drawn to it right now.”

You chew on your lip and look at her a little longer. Then you sigh and acquiesce. “Fine, I’ll give it another read. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it, maybe there’s something I’m missing.”

“Thank you! I appreciate it, and I know the students do too,” she says, giving your arm a little squeeze. You soften, finding it difficult to perform your usual stubbornness with someone as sweet as Alfira.

Something is still gnawing at you, though, and you can’t figure out what.

***

You arrive at your therapist’s office a few minutes before your appointment. You sit in the waiting room, the white noise machine humming pleasantly. At 6:00 on the dot, Jaheira opens the door and waves you forward.

“Come in,” she says in her thick Russian accent. You walk past her into the office, which has a cozy, natural vibe. Between all of the plants and the bookshelves, you have no idea what color the walls are. You toe off your shoes and settle on the couch cross-legged as she sits across from you in an elegant red chair.

“So tell me, how are things going?” she asks, crossing her legs and letting her legal pad balance on her knee. You fidget uncomfortably, trying to figure out what to bring up first. But the season selection meeting is still so fresh in your mind, and you have so many thoughts bouncing around your head. Before you can stop yourself, you’re filling her in on all the details, including your feelings about Heathers.

“I just don’t understand why she’s so insistent on this musical, it’s not even really that good,” you grump, picking at your cuticles. She taps her pen to her mouth contemplatively.

“And this character that bothers you so much, JD? What is it about him specifically that gets under your skin? Surely you don’t feel this way about all bad guys in plays.” She tilts her head as she speaks and your eyes dart around the room, both avoiding her gaze and trying to gather your thoughts.

“I don’t know, there’s just something… Honestly, I think it’s the way these teen girls talk about him. I can totally see some of myself in them, too. I feel like if I were a teen when this musical came out I’d be foaming at the mouth for him.” You roll your eyes at the imaginary version of yourself you’ve conjured.

“Is that bad? To find the villain attractive?”

“It’s not just finding him attractive, it’s what qualities they find attractive. The toxicity, the obsessiveness, the violence. I don’t want them to take that into their real lives, you know?” Your words ring in your ears with double meaning and you quickly shut the errant thought down. Not Jaheira, though. She picks up on it immediately.

“We’re not talking about JD anymore, are we?” she asks softly and you fold your arms across your chest. You’re silent for a good long time, various thoughts and feelings barreling through your mind like a train, while she just watches you patiently. Finally, you muster up the energy to speak.

“I just… don’t like that I like it. Every time my body gets turned on by something terrible that he does, I feel betrayed. Like I’ve violated my own consent. It makes me feel sick,” you say in a very small voice, fixing your gaze on a small succulent on the coffee table in front of you.

“I believe you said last tenday that he thought it was all a game, correct?” she asks carefully, and you nod. She continues, “Well, what’s stopping you from playing along with him?”

You stare at her, that ringing in your ears coming back. Your stomach lurches, but you genuinely can’t tell if it’s from aversion or excitement.

“I mean, I don’t want to think of my relationship as a game,” you say with slight disgust. She shakes her head.

“Not the relationship, no, but perhaps other things. If you two agree on the rules ahead of time, find a safe way to tap out if need be, what’s to stop you from having fun?”

“What, like kink?” you ask with incredulity. It’s not something you had ever considered for yourself.

“You could call it that, but it doesn't need to be anything so formal. As long as you agree on your boundaries prior.” She looks at you with that penetrating stare again, like she can peer directly into your thoughts. “Can you trust this man?”

You genuinely don't know the answer to this question.

She doesn't let the silence linger for quite as long this time. She continues, “Try it on your own, first. Just fantasy. Give yourself permission to go as dark as you want. Just make sure you have a bottle of wine and a good friend on hand.” You immediately picture a smiley Shadowheart.

There's still something tugging at your mind, though.

“But doesn't it say something about my, like, feminist values if I want to get beat up in the bedroom?” You pick some lint off your sock so you don't need to look at her, but you steal a glance up at her anyway. She’s raising an eyebrow.

“What does it say?” she asks in that tone she uses when she's pushing back on one of your biases. You swallow your instinctive response and really think about an answer.

“I don't know, like I'm a bad feminist or something,” you finally mutter. Jaheira barks out a laugh.

“Please, what, do you think you're going to go to Feminist Thought Jail? That the Feminist Police are going to come and arrest you?” Her tone is snide but it makes you crack a smile nonetheless. She knows that you sometimes need a firm hand to keep your anxiety in line.

“Your homework,” she continues, glancing at the clock, “is to let yourself explore this fantasy, however you want. Whether it's just in your mind, or in writing, you can touch yourself or not, it's up to you.” Your cheeks redden slightly at getting “masturbate” as therapy homework. “Just make sure you're listening to your body. I think she knows what she wants more than that brain of yours.”

You take a deep breath and put your feet on the floor again, slipping your sneakers back on.

“Thanks, Jaheira.”

“You're welcome. It's literally my job. I'll see you next tenday, yeah?”

You nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You exit her office, ideas for your “assignment” bouncing around your head.

***

You get back to your apartment and kick off your shoes. You drop your bag and immediately head into the kitchen to pour yourself a drink. There’s absolutely no way you can do this stone cold sober. Your eyes flit between the fridge handle and the wine rack above it. Red or white? The image of Astarion licking your blood off his lips invades your mind.

Red. Obviously. Unfortunately. 

You catch yourself. You don’t need to be so judgmental. You like red, and if it adds to the experience because it makes you think of him, so be it.

Your desire to cringe is potent nevertheless.

You bring the glass into your bedroom and dim the lights in an attempt to set some sort of mood. You pull a candle out of a Bath and Bodyworks bag on your dresser, trying not to think about how much time you spent trying to find one with the right smell. You set the candle and your wine glass on your bedside table. You strike a match and watch as the wick catches light, the flame bobbing around like a chipper little parakeet. 

While staring off into space in the direction of the candle, you take a long, deep sip of wine. After a moment, you lie back on your bed and stare at your ceiling. Echoes of the fire dance across your vision. You take a deep breath, nervous about where you’re about to let your mind wander. 

You conjure up his expression from the night you saw Taming. That snide grin, fangs bared, blood dripping down his chin. You remember him closing his hand around your throat and something deep in your core constricts. You let your hand slide down your front, taking your time, and his words reverberate in your ears.

Little love, do you think you’re in control?

You unbutton your jeans and your hand slips below the waistband of your panties. You dip your middle finger into your slick and let out a shaky breath.

You insolent little brat. I will absolutely ruin you.

The thought brings a voiceless moan to your lips. Your ring finger joins your middle finger and they lazily run along your folds, spreading your wetness. 

Your eyes shoot open – you hadn’t even realized they were closed. You can feel the judgment, the anger, the frustration, all bubbling up inside of you. You take a deep breath, acknowledge it, and let your imagination take over again.

You visualize him smugly peering over his glasses at you, the round wire ones, and he points down to his feet.

On your knees, darling.

His voice in your mind is smooth like velvet, low with just a tinge of threat. You look up at him, your bound hands resting in your lap, a collar around your neck. He holds the leash.

Back in your bedroom, your back arches as you slide your middle finger into your cunt, just barely up to the second knuckle. You whimper at the thought of him pulling the leash tight. Your breath moves high into your chest, making your tits heave with the exertion. You move your other hand to your nipple, gently rolling it between your fingers as another needy moan works its way into your mouth. You savor this one slightly, lending it some of your voice.

The collar is replaced by his hand, his fingers tight on your neck. He pulls up on your jaw, bringing you to an upright position on your knees. He kisses you, rough and hungry, your hands twitching against their cuffs.

You let a second finger join the first inside your cunt, tilting your pelvis to get a better angle. Your jeans constrict your waist, and in a huff you shove them down past your hips and kick them off your feet. Your fingers immediately dive back into you and you groan, thinking about his hand yanking your hair back and exposing your neck to him.

In your fantasy you say something, anything, the words are garbled nonsense in your mind. But he laughs cruelly, a far cry from his high pitched giggle that you love so much.

“Don’t be stupid, darling,” he spits, and your legs fall open to let your fingers in further, the top of your palm coming into contact with your clit. Your hips cant into your hand, your throbbing pussy aching for more friction, more heat. 

“Fuck me, Astarion, make me yours,” you whine instinctually, his name sweet and bitter on your tongue. Your conscious mind recoils – do you want him to call you stupid? You’re already insecure about that as it is.

Fantasy, your subconscious coos. It’s just fantasy. You take a deep breath and give yourself permission to keep going.

He traps your naked body with his, caging you in without a means of escape. His eyes glint with something feral, like a predator, as he buries his nose into your hair. You squirm and moan for him, the line between fantasy and reality blurring. His fangs scrape across your jaw as his words spit rapidfire into your ear.

You precious little thing.

You’re mine, remember?

I shall lock you in a room and keep you all to myself.

You’re going to be wonderfully obedient.

Your fingers slide out of your cunt and you move their ministrations to your clit, rubbing in quick, small circles as his imaginary voice rattles in your brain. Your feet push against the mattress, pressing your hips into your fingers as you desperately chase release. Every part of you aches to be held down by him, his cold hands gripping your wrists as he fucks you senseless. His palm slapped across your mouth to muffle your cries of pleasure. His fangs deep in your neck as his cock thrusts even deeper.

Your hand stutters as it tries to keep pace with your fantasy, yearning to feel every inch of him across your body. Your stomach tightens and your pussy clenches and you come in a crashing wave all over your hand. You continue stroking yourself through the end of your climax, eventually succumbing to stillness. The only sensations you feel are the slowing throb in your cunt and your breath wracking through your lungs. 

You let your hand linger in the sticky mess between your legs, turning your head to face the flickering orange light from the candle. 

What do you want?

You’re very good at asking me that. I’m not sure you’re good at answering it yourself.

So… what do you want?