#because i spent all this time studying for a test i fucking failed!!!

[neowinestainedress]

wave | lee donghyuck (part two)

part 1 | masterpost | full fic not split in two

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

haechan: can you answer me?

haechan: i miss you : (

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I use my brain,” you reply nonchalantly.  

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

“Last week.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight.”

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

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

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

Haechan’s screwed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you do—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I can’t go out with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, you have a guitar, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Biscuits?”

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

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

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

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

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

“All at the same time?”

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

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

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

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

“Then take it back,” he says nonchalantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Out of the kitchen!”

“There’s not even a wall?”

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

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

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

“They’re mine? I left them here?”

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

“When?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this is nice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not? You didn’t hear it, yet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why do I?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I have to get on my knees?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” He squeaks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want to take merits for this, too?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ll see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? And what does it feel like?”

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

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

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

“Really? Your mom would bake that too?”

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

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

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

“Why are you smiling?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And speechless.”

And a bit closer.

“And grateful you’re on earth.”

And closer.

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

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

“Like running to your safe place?”

You nod. “It feels like… home.”

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

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

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

You know all the words to your song.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They do,” you retort.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Period?”

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

“As if that ever stopped you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can make some.”

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

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

“Does he touch their thighs?”

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

Yeri snickers. “Ah, l’amour.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because you’re right,” Yeri replies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeri gulps, looking around to take time to answer.

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

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

“You fought a Professor?” Jaemin gasps loudly.

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

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

“Ew,” it comes out collectively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cause you deserve it?” You shrug.

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

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

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

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

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

“You and?” Jeno asks.

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” Minjeong asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have to come up with something.

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

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

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

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

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

“Because I’m not.”

“Caught you!”

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

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

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

“So, you were hiding, uhm?”

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

“Am I allowed to eat it?”

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

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

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

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

“Do you confess, Casanova?” You tease.

Donghyuck smirks. “How does it look like?”

You shrug. “Don’t know, you tell me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I asked you first,” he retorts.

You blink. “Oh, really?

“Yeah, really.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what is that, love?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You both laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hums. “And?”

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

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

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

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

You laugh. “I distracted you?”

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

He constantly comes back to you.

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

“Sorry, I was thinking.”

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

“No come on, ask me again.”

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

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

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

“I’m not that horny,” he murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess you could say that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink twice and then mumble, “what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug, diverting the eye contact.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The sea ��”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhh… it reminds me of something.”

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

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

“Are you mocking me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh and he does the same.

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

He snorts. “Don’t need fools gold.”

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

“I didn’t do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you be less clumsy?”

“Mhh... no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like it?” You ask.

“I love it,” he replies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never planned of stopping.”

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

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

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

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

“Hyuck, what are you—?”

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

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

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

“I know, but I want you close.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he chuckles, you look up at him.

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

“I was thinking about us,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

YEARS LATER

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

“Is it true?”

“What?” Donghyuck says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We still have our charm,” Donghyuck laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@girlwholoveslpreppyattire, @viciousdarlings, @hyuckmoon,

@jaeymark, @hqech, @xntlax, @milkyway-vxm, @fullsunahceah,

@beomgyusonlywife, @toroufriteh, @yesohhsehun, @shxnz

@haecastor, @hyucksaint, @sk8ermark, @midnightrained

@maiteeeeesstuff, @smwhrinthehaze, @yoursyuno

© neowinestaindress ; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. 

[azsazz]

Over Ice

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: I think we could really have fun with the different courts and Illyrian values on a thematic basis but ALSO if the reader is in something very artsy and hasn’t really been into sports and then she’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!! She decides to wear Cass’ jersey to make him mad and when he finally gets a hold of her after the game: *cue innocent shrug* he asked me to!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3032

Notes: While I work on a plot for an azzy hockey x figure skater au, please enjoy a rhys hockey au 🤪

This was originally an Az idea but I thought it fit better for Rhys bby so here we are. I feel like I've forgotten how to write and this is shit (dont judge me im going thru smthin rn)

_________________________________________

A giant FU stares up at you.

Well, actually, it’s only an F, but it may as well be the former with the way it’s circled in thick, red ink.

Three. Fucking. Times.

Tears sting the back of your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. It never feels good, failing, and even if you’d gotten a C+ like you hoped, you would’ve still beaten yourself up over the grade because plain and simple: that’s who you are.

Two months ago, at the beginning of the semester, psychology had seemed like a breeze. The lectures were easy to listen to and intriguing, and you had no trouble following along with the professors’ slideshows as you took detailed notes of everything on the screen. Your assigned readings were completed in a similar state, though they weren’t graded but included important information you’d find on the tests.

Somewhere along the line, your grade slipped, and you don’t remember if it had been between studying for Biology or reveling in your newfound freedom away from your parents, partying and enjoying a true college experience with your roommates.

Whatever happened, the repercussions are hitting you right in the face, the taunting letter you have never seen before on any of your assignments throughout all your years of learning.

If your parents saw this, they would bring the entire house down with their scolding.

It’s not like you didn’t try. You studied, even if the word is a loose term for what material you used. Things started piling up this month, with it being a new semester and all. You didn’t schedule out the time to focus on psychology when the classes you were really interested in—Introduction to Nutrition and Kinesiology—took first and second place for your attention. Plus, with the number of social events your best friends—who are also conveniently your roommates—invited you too, it was almost impossible to say no. Friends are a vital part of the college experience and you were in desperate need of some fun after having spent the summer lounging at home with your parents.

You found a psych support group that met at the library once a week to study together. It wasn’t anything like you thought it would be, a bunch of clueless students with grades similar to yours. All they seemed to want to do with your precious time was bitch and moan about the professor instead of actually trying to conquer the areas of study for the upcoming test.

And now the consequences of your actions have made themselves known.

Grumbling, you shove the test into your binder before shutting it with a snap that does nothing to ease your frustration. A few students still trail from the room, though most bolted right after being released. Some linger at the bottom of the lecture hall where the professor sits, answering their questions.

You have about a million-and-one of your own but you’re too worked up about your grade to go down there and hash it out with Mr. Hybern. His peppery colored hair is perfectly coiffed on this terrible day, his beard trimmed close to his jowls. His gleaming, golden skin makes you think that maybe he’d spent his weekend grading tests out in the sun, and you have half a mind to stomp your way down the stairs and demand a second review of your test.

It wouldn’t solve your irritation, and it would certainly be embarrassing if in fact your F is correct.

Placing your binder, notebook, and pens back into your bag, you zip it, sling it over your shoulder, and make your way to the exit, holding your chin high because if there’s one thing you’re not going to do, is cry over your terrible, awful grade in public.

The waterworks will just have to wait until you’re locked in your private bedroom in your shared dorm.

There is good news. It’s Friday, which means you can snag the pint of your favorite ice cream that your roommates won’t dare touch because ‘no ice cream that’s worth it should have fruit in it, that’s like asking for a steak on your spaghetti.’ You have no idea what Mor—one of your roommates—was on about when she brought up the awful comparison, and in reply all you’d done is scooped out a chunk of cherries embedded into the creamy, pink goodness and stuffed it into your mouth.

With it being the weekend, you can also wallow well into the night without having to worry about hiding your puffy eyes in the morning. You’ll have all day tomorrow to figure out a plan of action, once you allow yourself the time to properly grieve and process…and maybe have a drink or two.

You shoulder through the heavy lecture hall door with your head down, hiding the red stain to your cheeks. So, maybe you’re not going to hold you head high as you trail back to your dorm, but you will not cry.

The door swings open and you barely catch the noise of surprise before you’re barreling into something that’s akin to a brick wall. Your breath leaves your body in a whoosh and your balance slips out from under you, arms flailing as you fall.

You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for impact, but it never comes.

Slowly, mortified because you know exactly what’s cushioned your fall, you peek your eyes open, carefully meeting a sapphire gaze that surely would take your breath away should you have any left.

This close, you can see the perfection of his angular features: a long, straight nose, high cheekbones under the dusting of pink that caresses his own face. His lashes are dark as charcoal, the same color of his hair that looks as soft as silk.

Whatever it is that has you entranced by his beauty, the sentiment seems to be mutual. Those bright eyes trace across your features, carefully drinking you in. You don’t know if you’re thankful that your face is already as red as the marker on your test or if you want him to see the way your cheeks go molten.

There’s a warmth against your hips that you don’t notice until he speaks, his hands that have a solid grip around you, keeping you steady to his chest. His whispered breath brushes across your lips. “By all means,” he teases softly, “Take your time.”

“Oh, my Gods, I am so sorry,” you squeak, rolling off his chest. You can hear his chuckling as you scramble to climb to your feet, but your knees are so weak at the sight—and touch—of the most handsome man you’ve ever seen lifting gracefully to his feet, holding a hand down to help you up.

You try not to notice just how big his hand is in yours, and for the second time today, you fail.

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says, displaying an easy grin that makes your heart stutter in your chest. The door opens with a loud click and the both of you startle. His hand comes down warmly on your spine, ushering you out of the way of the student that’s beaming grin falters into apology at the idea of almost running you down, already on the phone with someone and gushing over their test result.

It’s hard to reign in your glare.

The student’s conversation seems to jolt the man out of his stupor. He blinks, shaking his head as if to rid him of a spell you might have cast on him, or maybe he’s testing to see if he has a concussion from the fall.

When he returns his attention to you, it takes everything in your power not to melt into a puddle beneath that gaze.

“Is Mr. H still passing out tests?” he asks, and you swallow the sourness that accompanies the name of your professor. You and he are not on good terms right now, not that this boy knows that.

“Yeah,” you answer, remembering you saw him sitting on his throne (desk chair) with his loyal citizens (students) kissing his feet (talking through their tests). “I think so.” Then, because you’re pretty sure you would remember a face like his if he were in your lecture, you ask, “Are you in this class?”

“No,” he answers with a scoff that tells you he breezed by this class. “I took Psych 101 freshman year, but I have Professor Hybern again for Cognitive Psychology and I need to turn in my paper early.”

Turning in a paper early? What is he, some kind of genius?

“Oh,” you answer lamely, “Cool.”

His answering grin cracks open the casing of the butterflies you didn’t know were living in your stomach, taking off in a flurry of emotion.

He shrugs like he couldn’t really care less about any of it, but to you, the fact that he’s managed to pass Psych 101 at all is an impressive feat, though you don’t know why he’d sign up for even more torture. “Sure. Look, I’ve got to run, but are you sure you’re okay?”

It’s nice of him to ask if you’re okay when he’s the one who had his back painted to the floor only moments ago. “Yeah, I’m fine, but I should be the one asking you that. Are you okay?”

His laughter is rich and warm, and you want to melt into it. Before you have the chance to make even more a fool of yourself in front of this handsome stranger, he answers. “I’ve been checked harder, darling. You have a nice day now.”

“Thanks, you too,” your words trail off as he catches the door on its next outswing, ducking inside without waiting for your response.

Jeeze, he must really be in a rush, then.

It’s when you exit the doors to the psychology building that you curse yourself. You should’ve gotten his number, his name at least. You could’ve invited him over for something more distracting and yummier than the ice cream you’d planned on demolishing.

At least you have something better to think about tonight than your test.

With a heavy sigh, you allow your backpack to fall off your shoulder. Now that you’ve arrived back to your dorm, you’re suddenly feeling more exhausted than ever.

The walk home from class had been nice, your time spent thinking about the boy you’d run into. The broadness of his shoulders you didn’t seem to notice until he turned away, stretching wide beneath his tight t-shirt. The bulge of his biceps beneath said t-shirt, flexing as he pulled the door open for himself. The shape of his ass in those snug jeans.

The sight of that is what had your eyes nearly popping from your head. What’s he doing that gives him such a bubblicious ass? Squats? Lunges? You can do those. You choose not to, but if there’s a guarantee that you’d have an ass like that, you’d start right this second.

Tucking your lip into your mouth in concentration, you plant your hands on your hips, making your way to the refrigerator that your ice cream is housed in, lunging your way there.

It’s not that far, the communal space in your shared dorm is small, but your heartrate is elevated by the time you’re two lunges away from your prize: your ice cream.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Mother!” You shout as the voice of your roommate breaks your concentration. Your knees wobble and your thighs shake, unable to hold you up from the burst of exertion you used. You clearly need to get into the gym more, another thing to add to your already busy schedule. “You scared me!”

Mor rolls her chocolate-brown eyes, sliding into one of the stools at your counter. It’s not built for it, the laminate countertop doesn’t hang over the island far enough for your legs to fit, but you and your roommates thought they were cute, nonetheless. You can suffer having to hunch over your knees to reach your cereal bowls in the mornings in favor of having more space for company to sit.

When you haul yourself off the ground, you take in your roommate. She’s wearing some kind of jersey, one you’ve never even seen in her wardrobe before, and you probably spend more time in there than her because she has every item of clothing you could ever imagine. The top she’s wearing now totally clashes with everything that screams Mor: silk scarves, tight bodice tops, leather pants, and what she has on now isn’t even red, a color that’s a staple in her closet.

“Well, if you were paying attention,” she scolds playfully, flipping open the compact in her hand, checking her makeup in the tiny mirror. She makes a few faces that would make you chuckle if you didn’t notice how she looks like she’s ready to go out, and that means she’s going to try to drag you with. “You would’ve heard me walk into the room. I am wearing heels, you know.”

Of course you know. Mor doesn’t do sneakers, only when it’s five in the morning and the sun is still sleeping, the perfect time for working out where nobody will catch her. Maybe I should join her, you think, mind wandering back to that boy’s butt.

“Why are your cheeks all red?” She asks, planting her palms on the counter and leaning towards you, eyes narrowed in inquisition.

“Nothing,” you wave her off, reaching for the door to the freezer. It’s the last thing between you and the cherry chunk ice cream calling your name.

Before you can open it more than an inch, it slams closed, Mor’s sharp, bright red fingernails splayed out to stop you.

Damnit, how does she move so silently?

“What do you think you’re doing?” You question each other at the same time, biting back your smiles at the mistake.

She answers first. “Why do you look like you’re about to get the ice cream, put your pajamas on, and wallow in bed all night?”

“Because that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” you cross your arms over your chest defiantly. “So, if you’ll excuse me…” You trail off, hoping she’ll step away and leave you to your peace.

She doesn’t. That’s not Mor.

“I had a rough day!”

“You say that every day,” she whines, stomping her heel-clad foot. “Don’t you even want to know what I’m inviting you to tonight?”

“From the look of your clothes, no, I don’t want to know what you’re doing tonight, Mor, and no, I don’t want to join you, either.”

Your roommate scrunches her nose, tipping it towards the ceiling. “I’ll have you know that this outfit is cute.”

“Yeah, if the definition of cute changed to ‘not pleasing or appealing to look at.’”

“You take that back,” Mor shouts, full naming you.

As your lips part in apology, because that was rude of you, your other roommate pads out of her room. Her reading glasses are perched up on her nose, blue eyes round and wide, and it always looks like she’s looking around the room in wonder. She has a blanket thrown over her shoulders and looks every bit of cozy you wish you were.

“Gwyn,” you sigh in relief at the sight of her. “Please, help.”

“I already said no,” she offers you a sympathetic wince. “I don’t think there’s any getting you out of the hockey game, sorry babe.”

Now it’s your jaw that falls to the floor. No, it falls through the floor and about five more floors down, hitting the lobby with a crack that echoes through the building.

You whirl on Mor. “Hockey game? Since when have you been interested in hockey?”

“Since my cousin got named team captain this year,” she says smugly, and you don’t know why she’s acting vain, it just means that he’s captain of the douchebags now, even you know that. Mor turns, showing off the back of her jersey. The number one stands out like a beacon, and you brush her blonde hair over her shoulder to read the smaller patches spelling out what is in fact, her family name.

Cunningham.

“Think of all the parties we’ll get into,” she says over her shoulder, and she does have a point there. The athletes at your college are a group of students that you don’t ever interact with, nor do you care. Mor is all about connections though, and if she wants to go to the hockey game, then it looks like you’re going with her.

You wonder what excuse Gwyn used to get out of it. She looks mighty comfy right now, slinking over the plop down on the couch and turn on a movie.

“Why do we have to go to the game? Can’t we just go to the parties?” You ask, grasping for anything to get out of this. You don’t want to go sit in the cold arena and watch a bunch of guys wearing full-body padding slide up and down the ice. Why couldn’t her cousin have been on the baseball team? They have nice, tight uniforms.

“Because,” Mor emphasizes with a glare, spinning to face you once more to give you the full effect of her irritation. “I’m a good cousin, and if we don’t attend the games, we’re going to be blacklisted from the parties,” she grumbles, the fight leaving her a little bit. “I’ve already argued about it with Rhys, I don’t want to have to argue with you too.”

It’s with your sigh that Mor brightens. “Fine. I’ll come with you, but I’m not going to be happy about it. And don’t expect me to cheer.”

Her squeal pierces the sound barrier. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

Mor grabs your hand, dragging you towards the empty single room that’s left in your dorm. She uses it as an extension of her closet until someone else gets placed with you. So far, you’ve been lucky, living here since freshman year, just the three of you. “Great! I got you a shirt!”

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

[vixensbrainrotts]

Could u write one for baji where he has sort of a black cat gf? Like they're dynamic is: "staring into someone's soul" gf and "stares too just bc his gf is staring" bf

Opia - Keisuke Baji

Content: FLUFF

Warnings: a fight (relationship, external) mentioned, not proof read

Tropes: Black cat! reader, (kind of golden retriever! Baji), established relationship

Summary: You observe everyone maybe just a bit too closely for most people's liking, but Kei really doesn't mind.

Vixens two cents: I don’t really write for Baji but I’ll take the challenge, sorry if he feels a little out of character! Thank you for requesting and let me know how this is! If you find yourself enjoying this, please please please feel free to request something cause ASKS ARE OPEN!!! yeah, alright, now enjoy some fluff!

"OPIA" - verb, emotive

" The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can be simultaneously invasive and vulnerable. " --

Baji knew you had a staring problem, he knew before he started dating you. Alone your dead-looking eyes was one factor in the equation, but since you had a distinctively bad case of „resting Bitch-face“, all scores were multiplied by ten. He was used for your glossy eyes to be staring dead at people, things, sometimes nothing even, just sorta dissociating out into space. At first he was a little confused, concerned even that maybe you weren’t getting enough sleep, or eating right, but upon asking you he found out that it really just was the way you were.

He thinks back to how he confessed to you: spilling some ill-rehearsed, grammatically poor lines of poetry he had smushed together over the past week after he found out you liked literature. You looked him dead in the eye the whole time, watching him fumble with his big hands and stumble over his words over and over again, because fuck the way your eyes were piercing his soul made him nervous, but your deadpan face didn’t move a bit until he finished with an embarrassing account of „Yeah so basically i was hoping you and I could maybe go out some time?“.

Then, your lips curled up into a small, sweet smile and you looked down at your desk and the letter and the little charm he presented you with. „Ok.“ was all you said, hands reaching up to the charm and securing it around your key-chain and looking back at him inquisitively. „Wanna ditch and go now?“ You actually isn’t give a damn, and he thinks that its one of the most attractive things about you.

And just like that, your first date was spent in a little cafe you suggested because „it has a great view onto the main-street“. So, over a creme-cake and a macchiatos you spent hours just people watching, which Keisuke came to find out was one of your favorite activities. When you first told him, he almost slumped together in his seat because who the fuck watches people for fun? But after you started pointing out little things to him; like the way that man was wearing two different shoes, or the way that that couple over there is passing for the third time already, he starts to see why you find it so interesting.

Soon enough after figuring out that you really didn’t mean any harm to the people you were staring at, Baji often caught himself turning to look at what caught your attention too. To his surprise, it often payed off, you had an eye for interesting, pretty, kooky things, so he made it a habit to look at whatever fell into your line of sight for too long.

This time, it was whilst the two of you were supposed to be studying at your place. Both of you were sort of failing the current Math topic, and with an upcoming test, you had decided to invite him over to yours to tackle the topic together. However, after around 45 minutes of hardcore struggling, you had lost a good bit of will and now chose to spend your time looking out of your window. Baji had noticed that the hypnotic rhythm of your pen scratching the square paper had stopped, so he turned to at you, half-expecting you to have fallen asleep.

When however he found your gaze fixed on something outside, his interest was piqued almost instantly. He found himself tracing your line of sight to see what you were seeing. Scanning the area outside your building, his eyes immediately found the hook.

There was a couple standing just outside your window, in the shelter of the bus stop that stood across the street. There was lots of articulation and hand motion going on, the man swinging his arms wildly as the woman tousled her hair and stomped her feet in retribution.

"They're arguing." Keisuke states into the comfortable silence between you two, but the words don't disrupt the atmosphere. A few moments pass in which you both watch them shout at one another, the woman now furiously pointing her finger all over the place, the man slapping a hand across his face almost comically.

"They have been for a while." you say back, head still resting on your folded arms, eyes trained on the scene.

"I wonder what it's about." Keisuke pondered, listening to the rhythmic in and out of your breathing, accompanied by the occasional crackling of a scented candle that sat on your windowsill.

A few more paces passed before you answered him. "I think its about a missed date." Kei hums in response, eyebrows furrowing as he glances to you. "How are you so sure?"

"Hmpf." You huff and shrug, the movement making your shoulders pop. "Just got a feeling about it... And look at the way she's moving her hands, pointing to something on her phone- looks like a serious thing, but not serious enough for something extreme like cheating."

He listened intently to your voice, but he didn't turn back to the scene, choosing instead to scan your body closely. The way your hair fell, the stretch of the shirt's fabric over the expanse of your back, the way your jewellery glimmered lowly.

Keisuke folded his arms akin to yours and lowered his head to rest right next to yours, finally getting a good look at your face. "That wouldn't happen to us, no?" he whispered to you.

Finally, you looked at him with those piercing eyes, and despite all the times he's looked into them, a shiver still ran down his spine and he felt his cheeks tinge with warmth. Your face was as blank as your eyes, but still you shook your head.

"Never." you whisper back to him, turning your head to lay on your arms like Baji's did. Kei felt a smile tug at his lips at how serious you sounded. "Good." he replied, voice still hushed as he came in closer to you, nuzzling both your noses together before giving you a tiny, soft peck on the corner of your lips.

When he pulled away and lay on his arms again, he saw your eyelids flutter to a content close and watched as your straight lips curled into a small, happy smile as you breathed deeply and allowed yourself to relax next to him.

Keisuke watched your breathing even out for a while longer, the gentle rise and fall of your ribcage, the occasional sleepy sigh and the sometimes rapid fluttering of your lashes as you seemingly drifted into sleep.

Kei allowed himself a bit of peace too, satisfied with how you've adapted a regular breathing pattern, and closed his eyes, intently listening to match the pace of his breath to yours. Right then and there Baji decided that perhaps people watching really is something wonderful when you're watching someone you love.

[sapphire-weapon]

So. The tram scene.

Let's do it.

The tram scene in RE2make is a test that Ada fails spectacularly, and it's the scene that destroys the possibility of a romance ever forming between Leon and Ada in the Remake-verse.

The entire game leading up to this moment, Leon has not stopped questioning her. Sometimes he pushes back on her answers as being this side of unbelievable, but since she always does seem to have an answer ready, there's not much more he can do other than to take her at her word.

He follows her through Raccoon City for the sole reason that he gets the sense that she's going to lead him to the answers that he's looking for, one way or another. Either she really is FBI and he's helping out in a serious investigation, or she's not and she's part of the problem. Either way, his goal is to find out what happened to the city, so either way, he wins.

But he wants her to be FBI so badly. He wants it so fucking badly. But it feels wrong. Something about Ada is off, and he knows it.

The entire game is spent in a very careful dance between Leon and Ada. He's trying to probe her for information without being too obvious about his mistrust, and she's trying to give as little as possible without being too suspicious.

They both tip their hands at the very start of the tram scene.

Leon: "You know what I was thinking? I can't wait for the FBI to raid Umbrella headquarters and take those bastards to justice."

Leon says this because he knows how the FBI works. It's never stated explicitly in canon, but it stands to reason that Leon has a Bachelor's degree in criminal justice. He's spent a lot of money to study this, and he's still fresh out of school, with all of that knowledge still readily available in his head.

He knows that Ada's "investigation" makes no sense at this stage of the game; there's no reason for the FBI to still be gathering information. The city is fucked. It's time to clean up. He wants to see what Ada's reaction to this is -- if she'll promise that a raid is coming once she finds a way in, or if maybe she'll have some other response that shows that she also knows how the FBI works.

She doesn't.

Her response is:

"I agree... but to be clear, you're not working in official capacity. This is a federal case. Once we get the G-Virus, I'm back on my own."

It's a response that doesn't make sense and doesn't address what Leon actually said to her in the first place. He never mentioned being part of that raid; he never expressed a desire to aid the FBI in any way other than what he's already been doing. He just wants to know that a raid will happen.

But that's not what Ada says. She brings it back to the G-Virus, specifically, for no good reason.

Leon's body language is very telling in this moment. He basically gives up -- he all but rolls his eyes at her as he makes a dismissive half-shrug with one arm meant to convey "whatever" and turns his back on her.

He knows that she just gave him the wrong answer. And she senses immediately that she did, too -- which is why she's quick to follow up with: "Hey, Leon... Trust me?"

He doesn't answer. He turns back around, approaches her directly, and says: "You trust me?"

This is another subtle tactic to try to get her to tell him the truth. He's very discreetly saying that no, he doesn't trust her -- and that he knows that she's lying. He's asking her why she doesn't trust him enough to tell him the truth.

It flies right over her head. She answers: "Honestly... If I didn't, you'd probably be dead."

Again, she fails to address what it was that he actually said. Again, he's disillusioned by her. Again, it's written all over his face and his body language. He gives a bitter little "Right." and nods and turns away from her again.

And once again, Ada can sense that she's failing this test. She tries to pull him back in with: "Look, I thought I might need your help... and I was right. If you can secure the G-Virus, I can make sure what happened in Raccoon City never happens again." Admitting to needing help makes her seem vulnerable, which makes her seem honest. And she's able to strike directly at the heart of what Leon's been after all along: helping people, protecting people, and uncovering the city's secrets.

And because Leon wants to believe that she's FBI so damn badly, he takes this as the affirmation he was looking for. All of a sudden, he's quick to rush to her side, to sit down next to her, and start talking to her again like she really is a Special Agent.

Leon: "Ada... You said it yourself -- it's a federal case. I don't have the authority--" Ada: "Leon, look at me. I'm a liability now. If I'm gonna finish this case, you're the last hope I've got." Leon: "I'm not just gonna leave you here. What if you're attacked, what if you need help--"

That's when she kisses him.

And if you look at his face, he's not thrilled.

Ada kissed him because she smelled the virginity on him and thought that a move like that would addle his dumb man brain (side note: Ada and Lady D would get along so fucking well; no wonder why Ada was axed from RE8) and cement her hold on him. But his expression when she pulls away is one of profound disappointment; you can almost see the realization dawn on him in real-time that she actually, really, truly isn't an FBI Special Agent -- because an FBI Special Agent would have never done that.

If Ada had just let him ramble and then followed up with her next speech, she would've gotten away with it. But she didn't. She took that next step to kiss him, and that undoes all of her effort in winning him back over.

But at this point, what is he supposed to do? Say, "Just kidding"? Throw a fit and accuse her on the spot? With what evidence? He has none. "I just know" isn't evidence.

She keeps talking through the next few seconds, and Leon never cuts her off or joins in on the conversation. He just stares at her hand on his thigh with that same expression on his face until the tram arrives at NEST. Ada shoves the ID bracelet in his hand, and that's when he finally speaks.

And all he says is: "Okay."

He's decided to buy into her lie, despite knowing at this point that it's a lie, because he feels he has no other choice. And that's why the scene ends with:

Ada: "Leon. I'm counting on you." Leon: "... I know."

And not with Leon saying something more akin to, "I won't let you down."

And as he leaves, Ada drops her chin to her chest and stares at the floor. She already knows how badly she fucked that up. That's ultimately why she comes looking for him at the end of the game. As Leon walks out of the tram, Ada knows that she can't fully rely on him to do what she asked, because his unconvincing exit said so many more words than he did.

That's why she's so quick to draw a gun on him at the end of the game. She goes into the final confrontation with him already knowing that he already, on some level, knows. And all Annette Birkin did was give him the confirmation he needed.

When Leon says to Ada during that final confrontation: "As much as I wanted to trust you... I didn't." he means it.

There was never a romance between them in this version of events. He never fell for her, and she never fell for him. But that doesn't mean that there was no bond that built between them. Leon also meant it when he said: "We make a good team." In Remake, he truly wanted to be her partner -- her equal. Just... not her lover.

And as for Ada, I've said in the past that she's a selfish character in Remake, and I stand by that. But she's not a psychopath. Just because she's selfish doesn't mean that she's incapable of attachment or affection -- in fact, Ada's shown to be sentimental in a few different ways. She feels endeared to Leon the same way that someone would feel endeared to a stray cat that followed them around and rubbed against their leg for pets. And that's why she ultimately can't pull the trigger on him. (side note: this is also probably the reason why she refuses to call Ashley by name at any point in RE4make; it prevents Ada from getting attached to her in any sort of capacity, but that's for a different post.)

But there's just simply no evidence of a romance existing between Leon and Ada at any point in the Remake-verse. I've gone looking for it, and I can't find it. Aeon is something that only canonically exists in OG. Remake has no interest in it.

Anyone who says differently is applying OG dialogue and events to Remake, and that's just poor and invalid story analysis.

[uptondixon]

Lilsis - Jay x Halstead!Sister

You and Jay were having a fight, again. Screams being exchanged in what was supposed to be a quiet afternoon.

"Yes Jay, I didn't study for the test, so what?"

It always started like this. You would give him a smartass answer, he would say he didn't like your tone. You would answer in an even worse tone. The discussion would begin.

"Y/n, It doesn't matter what you say to me, I'm taking your phone. This is the second time you have failed this class!"

The more he screamed, the more your patience run dry. You felt a fire building inside you and the words just slipped without your intention.

"God, I really fucking hate you right now."

Silence. That's everything that followed your sentence.

Jay stared at you, wide-eyed. "What did you just say?" He said softly, look of disbelief on his face.

Jay had never heard you speak like that before and he surely wasn't ready for it.

His tone surprised you, the weight of your words just now hitting you. You didn't mean that.

"You don't mean that" Jay says, as if echoing your thoughts. His voice is still soft, different from the stressed out tone seconds ago.

It was your turn to be silent. A million things going through your head.

Jay always had a way of making you feel safe, you could never quite grasp if it was because of his job or all the years he spent caring for you, but the man sure was the epitome of safety to you.

It was his arms you ran to when something was wrong, it's his comfort you seek.

One quiet "I'm sorry" was all you could muster, looking at everywhere but his eyes.

He closed the distance between you, hugging your thoughts away. His chin rested on your head and your arms circled his waist, just like he did when you were kids.

"I love you, Jay.”

"It's okay, I love you too lil sis."

Prompt by noahsresources

[adam-sadmon]

So to supplement by last post wherein I made an Armored Core AC based around Makoto (and might do some more for the Thieves) it's alternatively funny to instead imagine AC's not built by design aesthetics or combat styles/characteristics of the Thieves but literally made BY the Thieves, so here's how I imagine each Thief would build their AC if sat down in front of Armored Core 6:

Ryuji: Easy. Tank legs, dual miniguns and dual missile launchers on the shoulders. He hasn't optimised it whatsoever and with a build like that honestly he doesn't need to, he's Tokyo drifting at mach 10 turning the atmosphere into 90% lead. He will absolutely drive Futaba insane over how stupid his build is and how terrifyingly effective it is, especially when he turns her fully optimised meta build into a tin can.

Futaba: Futaba is a Gamer TM, and a toxic meta-slave at that, so she's running dual Zimmermans and Songbirds, at least when she's playing online. She likes to challenge herself in the campaign (which she's played though about 10 times now) and loves to flex on the rest of the Thieves in the Arena, usually by only equipping a single bazooka and turning on manual aiming to practise her Quake/TF2 rockets. OH, and she has in fact bugged Yusuke into making some waifu decals for her which she stickerbombs her AC with.

Yusuke: At first Yusuke was literally just using the first AC you play as during the first mission of the game since he spent a 100% of his time creating decals and re-colouring his AC, until eventually he started changing the AC parts to compliment his decals and aesthetic, and finally he actually went into the test range to fight... So he could spend 110% of his time in photo mode.

Makoto: Makoto, much to the fear and surprise of Futaba, is ruthlessly efficient when it comes to her AC build and approaches weapon and part stats the way she would an exam, going out of her way to build an energy-weapon based medium-weight AC, having ran the numbers on the various energy generators and the sheer DPS on quad-pulse guns, and much to her surprise has even beat Futaba on multiple occasions, even against her meta-slave build. Though nobody knows and she wouldn't hasten to tell anybody Makoto has secretly spent an inordinate amount of time away from studying to make Buchimaru decals for when she plays alone in the campaign.

Ann: Having little frame of reference as far as mecha go Ann failed upwards, instead trying to emulate herself in the metaverse by running with dual Ludlow SMG's and even adding the whip-like plasma thrower to her build and, inspired by the sleek femme-fatale villainesses of her childhood shows, built herself especially light with reverse-joint legs, not for the added jump distance or decrease in weight but because they look like high heels. She has accidentally outed Makoto's dark secret by telling Mako-Chan that she and her should hang out and make some more Buchi emblems and makes Futaba question her existence when she victory dances after turning her AC into Swiss cheese.

Haru: As bloodthirsty in AC6 as she is in the Metaverse Haru gets noticeably too into Arena fights especially when landing a fully revved chainsaw or by going wide eyed and shallow-breathed when flying 300 metres up in the air on hovering tetrapod legs while raining down 40 missiles at once, usually on Ryuji who can't reach her with his stubby little tank legs and who refuses to change his AC. She's attempted to make a lighter weight, more aesthetically pleasing and eloquent AC's but says fuck it when she realises she can't equip the chainsaw without being overburdened.

Morgana: Morgana doesn't have thumbs, however when hanging around Futaba he backseats and has gotten her to make a gentlemanly, lightweight AC with quad-handguns painted all black and white to emulate his stylish masculinity, which he then got to see melted by Sulla. He hasn't even got to Balteus yet.

[jonathanbyersphd]

When Robin sees them together on Monday morning, she thinks she must be hallucinating. Like maybe all the cow manure scented air of Hawkins has finally rotted her brain. Because that would be more reasonable than whatever reason NANCY WHEELER has for stopping by Jonathan's locker.

“Is that is that Nancy Wheeler with Jonathan Byers” Robin hisses, dead-stopping in the middle of the hallway. 

“Yea they're supposedly together” Kate informs with a shrug. 

“Together? Like together-together?” she questions. 

Kate nods.  

“Like together as in, Nancy Wheeler kissed Jonathan Byers?” she grills, skeptically. 

“They've done more than kiss, supposedly they got busy in some motel off the interstate after Tina’s Halloween party.” she gossips

“Ew, but also where did you even hear that?” 

“Tommy H. was telling anyone who would listen.” she explains.

“Then it's probably just a stupid rumor.” Robin dismisses.

“Ok then why are they blocking your locker?” 

Robin glances back over and Nancy is practically skipping away with an unreasonably giddy expression for ten in the morning. She watches Jonathan shake his head but he’s got a huge, well huge for him, smile. She swears he even briefly looks to watch her walk away. 

But she knows Jonathan, probably better than most. She spent the summer working with him at the Hawk and they've had lockers next to each other since freshman year. He's quiet, but kind with a clever sense of humor that he doesn't share often. He doesn't give a shit about his hair looking perfect, or how his clothes fit and he's worn the same shoes the entire time she's known him. 

Long story short, Nancy Wheeler isn't his type. Honestly she was starting to think that no one was his type. Or that maybe there was a smidge of truth to those rumors about him being gay. But that might have been more wishful thinking on her part.

“They're probably just exchanging homework or something” She rationalizes, remembering that the two are in the lead for valedictorian next year. 

“Besides, isn't she dating Steve Harrington?” Robin asks before Kate can rebuttal. 

“Yea, well,  you know what they say about Nancy Wheeler” she taunts.  

“No” 

“She's a slut” Kate reveals with a casual cruelty. 

Robin tries to let it go. To not pay as much attention. But the harder she tries the more she fails. Nancy Wheeler is like suburbia personified. She’s got the girl next door trope down to an art.  What with the pastels, the shiny hair and the goddamn trapper keeper. There’s just no way she’s swapped her perfect jock boyfriend for someone like Jonathan. Unless maybe she’s trying to piss off her dad or something. But at the risk of her own reputation? That doesn’t add up. 

So yea, she’s a little too invested. By Wednesday morning, she finds herself obsessing over bagel boy, hoping to notice the slightest change in his behavior. He looks the same as ever, same stupid hair, same stupid members only jacket, same stupid bagel crumbs. 

Steve's not even supposed to be in this class. But the story goes that not even top of the class, little miss perfect, Nancy could help salvage his grade last year. And rather than do summer school he opted to take the class over again before graduation.

“Nice work Buckley” he congratulates when passing her test back to her. 

Robin wants to be uncharacteristically nice. She wants to tell him that if he spent less time on perfecting his hair and more time studying she's sure he could pass this time. But a funny thing happens in the translation of her thoughts to her words. 

“Did Nancy Wheeler dump you for Jonathan Byers?” she blurts and he looks at her horrified.

“Uh I'm not” he pauses and Robin waits for him to tell her to fuck off and mind her own business. 

“I dunno, they've been keeping to themselves lately” Steve tells her. 

And for a guy who might have gotten ditched for the town weirdo he sounds incredibly sad about being left out of the loop. She briefly entertains the idea that Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington might be lonely before deciding that that's almost as impossible as Jonathan and Nancy dating. 

“Tell you what, they sure look happy though” he huffs but there's no bite to his words. No lingering resentment. Just that same hint of loneliness. 

Robin chalks up the whole situation as just plain fucking weird. She resolves to mind her own business. If Jonathan and Nancy want to have little rendezvous at his locker that's not her problem. As long as they don't intrude on her space, why should she care?

Except mid-morning on Friday that's exactly what they're doing. She got out of band practice a little early, the hallway is mostly empty and they’re standing right in front of her locker, hands intertwined, practically swaying. Nancy Wheeler is looking up at Jonathan Byers like he hung the moon and Jonathan Byers is looking at Nancy Wheeler like she’s more precious than any jewel. 

To his credit, Steve was right, they do look happy. Not in the grotesque, over the top, peaking in high school way Jason and Chrissy look happy. But in a genuine, sweet, Nick and Nora Charles way. 

“Mundy has a pop quiz today” she overhears Jonathan telling Nancy.

“So?”

“So you're honestly telling me you don't care if you miss that?” he asks. 

“Jonathan in five years from now I'm not going to remember some stupid math quiz but I am going to remember a nice afternoon with my boyfriend” she contends. 

Boyfriend, she definitely said boyfriend. Or maybe it really is some mass hallucination. Maybe Hawkins High has turned upside down. Because there’s simply no way in hell this is really happening. 

“I'll meet you by my car” Jonathan resigns. 

“I knew you'd come around” Nancy teases gleefully. 

“Yea yea” 

Then, Nancy plants a quick kiss on the side of his mouth before prancing away and Robin knows she’s lost her mind. Nevertheless, she needs her history book from her locker so she bravely makes her way to her locker. Laser focused on opening it, grabbing her book and getting out of there. 

“Uh I’m sorry if we've um blocked you lately I'm not trying to be next door” he jokes nodding his head in the direction of Jason's locker. 

“Yea no, no it's totally fine like I get you guys are super in love like lookout Hawkins High here comes the new power couple” she rambles. 

Oh God, why would she say that.

“Yea, uh I guess…” he admits softly and Robin just nods, for once not sure what to say. 

“Anyways I'm sorry sometimes I just get so… caught up in her that I forget other people exist you know?”

Jonathan says it casually, almost like he told her the cafeteria is serving chili instead of admitting to being so consumed by his girlfriend that it makes him blind to the world around him. 

“Uh yea” she lies because she’s not about to tell Jonathan that even as much as she privately adores Tam it’s never been like that. 

“Well have a nice weekend” he bids, shutting his locker and walking away. Leaving Robin with more questions than answers. 

[peachdues]

This is such a dumbass question to ask but what sort of stuff do you learn as a lawyer? And what type of shit do you have to study for a bar exam? Just read a few stories on it and sounds like fucking HELL — if this the sorta question you don't wanna answer, thats totally chill with me, I just like knowing what sorta coursework certai. Qualifications make you go through.

Ahhh okay, so explanation of the American legal education incoming.

So first thing — you have to have a four year bachelor’s degree in almost every state to even apply for law school. So four years of university are required before you can apply. Law school itself is 3 years, so in total, you’re in school for seven years.

Your first year you have absolutely no control over your schedule — every first year at every law school takes the same courses. You have no say over what time your classes are either — my first year, I was in class from 9-4:30 every day, with roughly an additional 6 hours or reading an assignments to do after. You quite literally cannot work during your first year of law school. These are all the courses you take during your first year:

Civil procedure (I and II)

Contracts

Constitutional law ( I and II)

Legal research and writing (I and II)

Property

Criminal law

Torts

All of these courses are tested on the bar exam that you have to take once you’ve graduated in order to be a lawyer. It’s not enough to graduate from law school — surprise!! You get to pay $5k-ish to re learn everything you’ve spent three years learning for a two day examination that literally determines your livelihood lmao. It’s very stressful — a lot of law firms make their job offers contingent upon passing the Bar, so it’s an incredibly high stress time and you get a grand total of six weeks to study.

Your second and third year are a bit more flexible. However, there are 17 Bar-tested subjects. 11 of them are absolutely tested (the first year subjects + evidence and criminal procedure I and II), but the other six are a toss up. You have no idea what’s going to be tested until exam day. So you can take classes your second and third year that are “Bar classes” but it’s not recommended you do so because you’ll hate yourself. The Bar subjects are the hardest and most dense courses.

My second and third year allowed me to explore my interests more — so intellectual property was a big one. I was also on law review and had two very big and very time consuming fellowships (I was one of 2 students in my entire state to get one fellowship that I had to go through the ringer to get lmao). Your second and third years are more about setting yourself up for a job after law school and it’s SO competitive. Like cut throat, even among friends. I hated that aspect of it lmao.

And then like I said — despite taking an entire semester’s worth of these classes and passing the exams (which average 3-5 hours for each exam but I had exams as long as 10 hours STRAIGHT), you get to do it all over again for an exam that’s only offered twice a year and literally determines whether you can be a lawyer!! The Bar exam was the worst experience. I was isolated for an entire summer, studying 10-16 hours a day and utterly cut off from loved ones. It’s a dark time lmao but I’m so glad I found solace here, with you all. Truly this blog kept me sane.

The exam itself is two days, and each day is a full eight hours. It’s designed to be a mindfuck and it’s designed for people to fail. It’s terrible!

[agonycrossbow]

So. The tram scene.

Let's do it.

The tram scene in RE2make is a test that Ada fails spectacularly, and it's the scene that destroys the possibility of a romance ever forming between Leon and Ada in the Remake-verse.

The entire game leading up to this moment, Leon has not stopped questioning her. Sometimes he pushes back on her answers as being this side of unbelievable, but since she always does seem to have an answer ready, there's not much more he can do other than to take her at her word.

He follows her through Raccoon City for the sole reason that he gets the sense that she's going to lead him to the answers that he's looking for, one way or another. Either she really is FBI and he's helping out in a serious investigation, or she's not and she's part of the problem. Either way, his goal is to find out what happened to the city, so either way, he wins.

But he wants her to be FBI so badly. He wants it so fucking badly. But it feels wrong. Something about Ada is off, and he knows it.

The entire game is spent in a very careful dance between Leon and Ada. He's trying to probe her for information without being too obvious about his mistrust, and she's trying to give as little as possible without being too suspicious.

They both tip their hands at the very start of the tram scene.

Leon: "You know what I was thinking? I can't wait for the FBI to raid Umbrella headquarters and take those bastards to justice."

Leon says this because he knows how the FBI works. It's never stated explicitly in canon, but it stands to reason that Leon has a Bachelor's degree in criminal justice. He's spent a lot of money to study this, and he's still fresh out of school, with all of that knowledge still readily available in his head.

He knows that Ada's "investigation" makes no sense at this stage of the game; there's no reason for the FBI to still be gathering information. The city is fucked. It's time to clean up. He wants to see what Ada's reaction to this is -- if she'll promise that a raid is coming once she finds a way in, or if maybe she'll have some other response that shows that she also knows how the FBI works.

She doesn't.

Her response is:

"I agree... but to be clear, you're not working in official capacity. This is a federal case. Once we get the G-Virus, I'm back on my own."

It's a response that doesn't make sense and doesn't address what Leon actually said to her in the first place. He never mentioned being part of that raid; he never expressed a desire to aid the FBI in any way other than what he's already been doing. He just wants to know that a raid will happen.

But that's not what Ada says. She brings it back to the G-Virus, specifically, for no good reason.

Leon's body language is very telling in this moment. He basically gives up -- he all but rolls his eyes at her as he makes a dismissive half-shrug with one arm meant to convey "whatever" and turns his back on her.

He knows that she just gave him the wrong answer. And she senses immediately that she did, too -- which is why she's quick to follow up with: "Hey, Leon... Trust me?"

He doesn't answer. He turns back around, approaches her directly, and says: "You trust me?"

This is another subtle tactic to try to get her to tell him the truth. He's very discreetly saying that no, he doesn't trust her -- and that he knows that she's lying. He's asking her why she doesn't trust him enough to tell him the truth.

It flies right over her head. She answers: "Honestly... If I didn't, you'd probably be dead."

Again, she fails to address what it was that he actually said. Again, he's disillusioned by her. Again, it's written all over his face and his body language. He gives a bitter little "Right." and nods and turns away from her again.

And once again, Ada can sense that she's failing this test. She tries to pull him back in with: "Look, I thought I might need your help... and I was right. If you can secure the G-Virus, I can make sure what happened in Raccoon City never happens again." Admitting to needing help makes her seem vulnerable, which makes her seem honest. And she's able to strike directly at the heart of what Leon's been after all along: helping people, protecting people, and uncovering the city's secrets.

And because Leon wants to believe that she's FBI so damn badly, he takes this as the affirmation he was looking for. All of a sudden, he's quick to rush to her side, to sit down next to her, and start talking to her again like she really is a Special Agent.

Leon: "Ada... You said it yourself -- it's a federal case. I don't have the authority--" Ada: "Leon, look at me. I'm a liability now. If I'm gonna finish this case, you're the last hope I've got." Leon: "I'm not just gonna leave you here. What if you're attacked, what if you need help--"

That's when she kisses him.

And if you look at his face, he's not thrilled.

Ada kissed him because she smelled the virginity on him and thought that a move like that would addle his dumb man brain (side note: Ada and Lady D would get along so fucking well; no wonder why Ada was axed from RE8) and cement her hold on him. But his expression when she pulls away is one of profound disappointment; you can almost see the realization dawn on him in real-time that she actually, really, truly isn't an FBI Special Agent -- because an FBI Special Agent would have never done that.

If Ada had just let him ramble and then followed up with her next speech, she would've gotten away with it. But she didn't. She took that next step to kiss him, and that undoes all of her effort in winning him back over.

But at this point, what is he supposed to do? Say, "Just kidding"? Throw a fit and accuse her on the spot? With what evidence? He has none. "I just know" isn't evidence.

She keeps talking through the next few seconds, and Leon never cuts her off or joins in on the conversation. He just stares at her hand on his thigh with that same expression on his face until the tram arrives at NEST. Ada shoves the ID bracelet in his hand, and that's when he finally speaks.

And all he says is: "Okay."

He's decided to buy into her lie, despite knowing at this point that it's a lie, because he feels he has no other choice. And that's why the scene ends with:

Ada: "Leon. I'm counting on you." Leon: "... I know."

And not with Leon saying something more akin to, "I won't let you down."

And as he leaves, Ada drops her chin to her chest and stares at the floor. She already knows how badly she fucked that up. That's ultimately why she comes looking for him at the end of the game. As Leon walks out of the tram, Ada knows that she can't fully rely on him to do what she asked, because his unconvincing exit said so many more words than he did.

That's why she's so quick to draw a gun on him at the end of the game. She goes into the final confrontation with him already knowing that he already, on some level, knows. And all Annette Birkin did was give him the confirmation he needed.

When Leon says to Ada during that final confrontation: "As much as I wanted to trust you... I didn't." he means it.

There was never a romance between them in this version of events. He never fell for her, and she never fell for him. But that doesn't mean that there was no bond that built between them. Leon also meant it when he said: "We make a good team." In Remake, he truly wanted to be her partner -- her equal. Just... not her lover.

And as for Ada, I've said in the past that she's a selfish character in Remake, and I stand by that. But she's not a psychopath. Just because she's selfish doesn't mean that she's incapable of attachment or affection -- in fact, Ada's shown to be sentimental in a few different ways. She feels endeared to Leon the same way that someone would feel endeared to a stray cat that followed them around and rubbed against their leg for pets. And that's why she ultimately can't pull the trigger on him. (side note: this is also probably the reason why she refuses to call Ashley by name at any point in RE4make; it prevents Ada from getting attached to her in any sort of capacity, but that's for a different post.)

But there's just simply no evidence of a romance existing between Leon and Ada at any point in the Remake-verse. I've gone looking for it, and I can't find it. Aeon is something that only canonically exists in OG. Remake has no interest in it.

Anyone who says differently is applying OG dialogue and events to Remake, and that's just poor and invalid story analysis.

[thelongestway]

The prettiest warbird!

Long post and lots of spoilers this time, because there's ludonarrative discussion under the cut - and a very, VERY long a play by play to accompany it.

This episode was a particularly interesting one from a game design perspective.

But let's do this in order.

Sometimes you look at the episode rewards and go OH FUCK NO:

This is not going to end well.

The Morg have intruded into Fluidic Space, which for some reason functions (according to Thaseen-Fei) sort of like the mycellium network, in that it connects everywhere all at once. Here, have some insane theory: fluidic space is actually that neuroliquid the mushrooms grow in and every time you open a portal there you are actually inexplicably tiny and splash around in a pool. Notably, Fluidic space fucks up the Aetherians in much the same way that time travel does Iconians (T'Ket!!! I miss you! You're fucking insane please come hit the Aetherians with your severed arm, pretty please?), so they can't go there to fight the Morg. So we have to because do we really want the Morg eating the Undine? ...Nnnope.

Luckily, the Undine like the Morg even less than they like us. They do not like anything that they can't de-shield - understandable! So it's a tactical alliance for the some being. Notably, when asked if the other Undine are actually aware we're on their side...

Interesting little detail there!

Naturally, we also can't bring down their shields - but Ezri has a plan. We can do some shenanigans and beam in, and disable the shields from inside.

Riiiight.

In we go. The consoles conveniently tell us about how the Morg came to be. They captured m!Voyager; ate everyone except m!Janeway, and for some reason decided to use her as an unassimilated (? she does have implants!) test subject. m!Janeway escapes, the Morg get into a fight with the Aetherians, realize they're fucked, and go back to talk to the Terrans. The Terrans say "hold that thought, we need popcorn over here", and the Morg are left alone. Morg, why is this on your consoles in human-readable code?.. File that away for further thought.

Other team gets to weapons control, we get to shield control...

So far so good...

Fuck. Why is no one on overwatch.

What are you people doing with your fucking weapons.

Please stop examining the fucking thing from melee range.

Pretty much inevitable result.

"If we're getting out of this alive, we are all spending a month in the brig for idiocy."

We are, however, not. A drone silently appears in front of us and injects us with nanites.

Let's talk game design for a little bit. This probably has more to do with engine limitations and artist crunch than anything, but from a Watsonian perspective this sequence is hard to read as anything but our characters being very cocky and unprofessional. You're in a Unimatrix. You're not Tal Shiar. Act like it. I spent quite a bit of time musing on how I would've done it, if other concerns permitted, and it would've gone something like this: use a tactic that no other Borg collective would have done before, but Janeway!studying Borg maybe. From here, there's variations - my version was something like this. The captain goes to touch a console, while the rest of the team stays on overwatch. An injection tendril goes out, the captain gets snared, two people from the away team try to get them out, get snared too, while the remaining two fight against way too many drones, including, eventually, the newly-assimilated part of the team, who are the ones to take them down. This is, of course, also a cutscene fail, but being blindsided by a new tactic would have felt better here, I think, then just lowering your guard.

At the same time, the sequence worked for a lot of people - because the subsequent assimilation was very, very visceral. Worse than the Tal Shiar assimilation experiments - and that's saying something.

There is no way to resist. I am the sort of person who cannot resist poking at this kind of mechanic, so I did that for a good couple of minutes. Nothing. The force of a hive mind is nothing to scoff at. Well done, Zero, for getting out. Resistance will be terminated? All right. Let me AFK for a bit, will the Morg kill me?..

...Nope. No way to proceed.

I guess we're doing this.

Of our little band, we're the Vinculum drone - which heals up the whole merry band if they fall. As a player, I like everyone's name just changes to "drone". As my character - who has good friends on the away team... Yeah. Seeing this was far worse than being assimilated alone.

As an aside, One of Five is of course the most popular designation for LibBorg players - referring to you and your BOFFs. Quite a few people got their chuckles out of it, as I've seen!

can you please fucking pay attention random starfleet officer. please. shoot me already.

they don't. and everyone who does, well...

Game design bit again: I spent a very long time trying to break the mission - and failed. You CAN get your team killed - if you stay out of sight with the Vinculum, they don't get revived. Whether they're up or not, eventually this happens:

This episode is all about resistance being futile, and this does work for the theme. Very frustrating, but also very neat. I replayed the mission a few times to get screenshots, and I have to say that the cadence is, naturally, much better if you don't resist. But I like that you can try, and that trying is not fun. It shouldn't be.

Eventually, we assimilate the fuck out of the other team, and only Harry Kim, Ezri Dax and Kuumarke are left standing. Now Kuumarke. She's an interesting character - a bit of a symbol for STO. A scientist and administrator from a planet that has only recently emerged into the galactic community, who has a childlike joy of discovery, and who has never really seen the player's captain fail...

...yeah.

Before we can assimilate Kuumarke, Ezri stabs us with a neutralizer and goes "hi, you there? we got a mission to do". So we do the mission, Borg parts notwithstanding, as does team Alpha, who we liberate along the way.

Nice to see Ezri putting not only her science skills, but also counseling training to good use! Literally everyone but her freaked out at one point or the other; Ezri got some very nice spotlight holding the team together. And the rest is almost history. We use our experience with the Morg to find their King.

The Borg representative is, of course, m!Harry Kim.

We take him down, and he leaves prime!Harry with a warning:

"Their smile might be hiding a knife."

Before we can probe further, a shot rings out. Kuumarke breaks. Harry is creeped out by seeing m!Kobali!Harry (it's a thing) shot in cold blood. I disagree with that assessment; that blood is anything but cold!

And we did get assimilated. Fuck. Let's not do this ever again.

We take down the shields, beam out, and fight the Morg fleet, including...

After that whole nerve-wringer, I laughed way too hard at B'Ger!

Upon beating the odds, the anomaly persists. And who should show up but...

And no warning? No communication? No "you take the Morg out; we'll move in to reinforce and rotate you out as soon as we can?" during the briefing?

I would shoot them on the spot and claim we thought they were Changelings. Are we Romulans or what.

The Undine are like... "Normally we would shoot them, but this is a new level of weird", which is understandable. We ask if they want us in on it. They go "proooobably still not, but actually... thanks?" which is the nicest thing the Undine have ever said to anyone.

With that small victory, we leave for Deep Space Nine. Home sweet home!

But before we debrief, we stop by the medbay to get our very new implants back out.

I really like how despondent we are here. It is an excellent capstone.

At the debriefing, Kuumarke barely maintains a stiff upper lip, Harry is understandably rattled, Ezri is like "oh boy, back on DS9, why is this place such a trauma magnet", and Bright Eyes is still suspicious of the Aetherians. So am I, my Tholian friend, so am I.

Never thought I would fight side by side with a spider. *** As y'all can see from this incredibly long post, I have strong and mixed feelings about this mission.

All of the sensory stuff worked for me. I don't play games that take your control much, and yeah, this is probably old hat to someone who does, but all of the "yikes, this is terrifying" stuff worked for me. It was very well done!

The Undine, the Aetherians, Ezri, Harry, Kuumarke, Bright Eyes and all of that jazz were great.

But the lead in? Ye gods. That did not work for me, but I am on the fence about whether I would've changed it if I could. "Assimilated through sheer stupidity" makes the sequence far more viscerally unpleasant - and there isn't anyone so experienced they cannot lapse, which I like. But yeah. Ultimately, even a lapse should be "one snowballing mistake", not "every member of the team breaks protocol."

[lucysweatslove]

I’m horribly disappointed tonight.

The gist of it: Rob’s best friend growing up, somebody insanely important to him, married an incredible Brazilian woman. Her entire family is in Brazil, but she moved to the US to be an au pair and see some more of the world. She met Rob’s friend, and they got married last summer in the US. It was a small wedding because they were going to have their big cultural wedding in Brazil.

In her culture, there aren’t traditional groomsmen and bridesmaid and the like. Instead, there are madrinhas and padrinhos- paired couples- on each side. We went to their small wedding, spend some time getting to know his new wife, and then we were asked to be - madrinha/padrinho pair. In Brazil.

I was in the process of applying to school, didn’t think I’d get in, and of course we said yes.

I did get in, and that really fucked with our plans. But we were so determined to go. We tried to find flights that could work, but getting us down to Brazil without missing “required” coursework and then back up here to take my test is… difficult. They are very long travel days. (Btw, tests are legit every single week, and they WILL NOT reschedule for ANYTHING personal- only emergencies/qualified illnesses).

The options ended up being:

we fly down Thursday and get in on Friday (possibly missing a required activity but those I care a little less about than a test that could make me fail an entire block), wedding ceremony on Saturday, we INSTANTLY leave to fly back. No reception despite that also being Saturday. Literally no flexibility.

Rob goes alone and can attend both ceremony and reception

Rob called his friend to let him know these were our options, they all suck, we are so sorry, etc. He talked to his wife, and then called back saying essentially, it sounds like it’s been a huge headache and difficulty trying to get it organized (they’re worth it, but yes), they are surprised we have put forth this much effort and money for such a small amount of time for them (we love them and are happy to do what we can without totally fucking over my education), and while either of our presented options are okay with them (option #2 would require they find another madrinha for Rob), they also gave options #3 we don’t go. It’s not a GREAT option, but it means we aren’t spending literally thousands for two partial days in Brazil.

I told rob: whatever he decides I will make work. It’s his best friend- I love them too, but like, I would make the decision if this was my best friend (Maryssa, though atm she is in the “never getting married again” camp). It’s gotta come from the person who is closest in these situations.

So anyway, we aren’t going. We talked about it, and we decided we would take that money we would’ve spent on the travel and accommodations and put it into a “fund” to take them on another trip together, some place like Tulum. Airfare and lodging paid for all four of us by us, so the only expense for them would be whatever incidentals. Issue would be finding time that works because the only time I get more than a week off (that I know about) are a) winter breaks over Christmas, and b) my dedicated step 1 time (it’s like 9 weeks of dedicated time to study for the first licensing exam, so in theory I could do something during that time period, but I would also want to spend some of that time while on vacation studying, not just playing around).

It still feels shit though. Yeah I wanted to go to Brazil to go to Brazil, but more importantly I made a commitment to people I care about, and I really wanted to be there for them.

[yoongisleftearring]

So let me vent rq

I'm dumb and barely went to any of my lectures this semester which honestly didn't even affect me that much except for one subject.

I had a class test and I got a G (since when is that even a fucking grade what?) Anyways that is worth 25% of my grade whoops.

So I had another class test a couple weeks ago and it was a listening test rather than a grammar test which the last one was and I'm honestly not even sure how I did in it because we haven't gotten out grades back. I thought it was fine but the problem is, I also though the other test was fine too so 🙃 that is worth another 25%.

So I basically only achieved maybe 1% of my first assignment, not sure of the second but my track record isn't looking great.

Tomorrow I have another exam, but in a scary exam hall and it's worth 50% of my grade. If I don't pass this I have to repeat and I won't be able to go and study abroad next year. I'm so scared that I'm gonna fail this and it will have all been my fault, like I coulda just went to college and this wouldn't be an issue.

So while I'm stressing over this I have work and a custom portrait commission to work on and an essay due at the same time as my exam that I'm not even attempting to hand in on time because I think my time is better spent studying for this stupid exam tomorrow.

So basically everything = stress.

It's funny because I'm the type of person who can just do fairly well without having to put in much effort so this came as a huge shock to me like ?? I have to put in effort ?? 🤢

I really want to go abroad next year and I need two things: to pass this year and to have a gpa above 3.0 so even if I do pass this but don't do too well it's not a definite thing still but I know I will be so upset if I fail this stupid class because of my decisions 😕

I hope nobody actually read this that's so embarrassing, I'm literally getting an education and I'm lucky but I made some mistakes and not I need to VENT

I better be back once I get my grades to say 🤪 shouldn't even have been worried I'm a brainy bitch what was I even stressing over 😤

We'll see

[underanothername]

Oh my god, all of this.

When I was in primary school I was "weird", "unsociable", "not trying hard enough to make friends." I was trying. I was trying so hard, but I never knew how to connect with other people. I got so anxious about going to school that I got chronic stomach cramps, which were misdiagnosed as appendicitis. I ended up getting my appendix out for what turned out to be no reason - which of course was my fault too, for 'faking' being sick in order to get out of school.

In high school (middle school doesn't exist in my country, for any Americans that might be reading this) I was still "weird", but also the "loner", "too intense," "doesn't try to fit in." I missed so much school I was nearly kept back despite being literally top of the class. The other kids developed enough empathy to be tolerant of me - as long as I didn't get too close to them. I clung to every scrap of closeness and inclusion I could get, but I never knew what to do with the rags and offcuts of friendship I hoarded; how to develop that into any real intimacy, whether platonic or - god forbid - romantic. Much of the time I didn't even want to; just that much contact with people could be overwhelming.

By the time I reached Year 12 I was barely functional. Riddled with anxiety, cutting (which my 'friends' knew about; they thought it was disgusting), but still stubbornly scraping together enough willpower to get my assignments done, to keep getting good marks. It helped that I never really needed to study much - having a brain was another thing that marked me as 'weird', but it was a strangeness I clung to proudly. Then at the end of the year, despite getting excellent marks for every assignment, I was skipped over for any sort of academic award. I was later told by a teacher that the staff assumed I was cheating because I was so distracted and unwilling to put the work in in class, obviously 'not caring enough' to focus properly. (I couldn't; I was too anxious at school to focus - though I wasn't self-aware enough at the time to recognise it as anxiety.) They thought someone was doing the written assignments for me at home. (I was furious - I might be weird, but I had pride. I'd pass or fail on my own merits. I had never cheated on any test in my life - I'd rather fail outright.)

When the results of the standardised end of year exams came back I was in the top 5% of my class. Screw you, high school teachers.

I was told things would be better when I got to University; that I'd find my 'people' in a larger group. Nope. Still the outsider; the one who didn't understand social customs, the one who never knew how to act 'normally'. The theme continued through my working life, sometimes still looking for those mythical people I'd been told were out there, the ones I would finally 'click' with, but mostly just trying to be content with myself as I was - someone who would never quite fit in. Abnormal. Missing a piece. Not quite human.

I was diagnosed with autism in my forties.

I sometimes feel like I've spent my entire life trying to figure out how to act like a normal human being, and yet never succeeding well enough to be considered a 'real person'. Just because I didn't have a name to put to that struggle doesn't mean it wasn't real. The fact that my struggles were ignored, dismissed or stigmatised for most of my life - including by me - doesn't mean they weren't and aren't real.

I'm not writing this for sympathy - I don't want it, and if anyone gushes at me in the comments (assuming anyone even reads this) I'm going to struggle with it. I don't process sympathy well. I'm writing it because the sentiments expressed in the post above resonated so much with me that I needed to write my story down, to add my own little nugget of proof that every generation includes fucked-up people, and they deserve empathy and acknowledgement even if previous generations had none for them. Even - especially - if they have none for themselves.

[justcallme-oleen]

TW. Monologue of Self loath

That's probably the most solvent emotion that I've been feeling for these past few months; afraid of wanting. Somehow, you know to yourself, you deserve a better treatment and a better option for living. Would that be called as ungrateful if you want to be in a better position? Of being at ease not having a problem of receiving barely enough?

Because I feel shit. A ton.

For quite some time, I've been thinking about the concept of death. Not to be that pessimistic-type of aesthetic-looking-people seeking attention, but maybe I am. And miserable for feeling guilty for a reason of nothing.

I have a lot of people hearing stories about me and my 'goodness'. That some might even fly a few compliments here and there. I really should appreciate it, I should, but here's the problem I can't. It's always my trust with words to the point that I am afraid that could be an indication that I really loath myself.

I have been receiving monthly allowances from my older sister, because my parents are not capable of giving me 'that'. And I am currently in college. That situation alone sucked because my parents have just gone from separation, and my father has just gone 'jobless', the same thing as goes as my mother. So, guilt.

Expense is a thing. I barely even have allocated my budget for an entire month and it feels like the half split of my allowance is being spent alone with paying bills (left by my father). And college is...well expensive. If I could only sell my soul, I would have already been. I could have landed a scholarship, but I am not the same as before. My grades are bearable to say the least, it's not really magnificent at most, just the bland average. I know if there's a will there's a way but fuck.

That's just another thing you know? I feel like I am failing a lot of people. Studying is the only thing I am good at, and I am failing it miserably, that it is the only thing that keeps me up all night or puts me to sleep from crying. Because...fuck.

It's an okay thing, really, my education is doing okay. But knowing me before, I know to myself that I am not settling for something that is okay. Like, hello? I am one of the honor students in our school since junior high and what the fuck am I doing now.

I am feeling pressure, and shit. And that's why I want to kill myself. Because I care, and I love a lot of things, it's making me feel numb. And I hate feeling numb. I kept imagining putting a bullet in my head or mouth most of the time. Sometimes I would just laugh off getting a low score on a test, and people would pity. But I do not like pity. I am a decently-egotistical person that feeds off compliments, but now i wasn't.

And I hate pity. And I hate myself. And I feel awful. About my skill. My talent. My knowledge. My competence. My confidence. My steam. I feel a lot. I feel loved. Cared. Thought of. And I don't deserve it. Why would I? I have always wondered why. And recently I just realized that there is one thing that all of the things people have said to me have failed to mention ed: You are doing great. Or great work. Or you worked so hard. Or I am proud of what you did.

No one fucking cares of the process where I am now. It's just me bettering myself. ALL THE FUCKING TIME. And I am getting sick of it. I just...

"Next time I know you'll do better."

"Keep up the good work, maybe next time you'll land a compliment..."

"You need to do this..."

"You probably need a job to have that..."

"You are so blessed, you're not even seeing it."

"You're supposed to be grateful our mother loves you the most."

"Why don't you just apply for a job/scholarship to help your parents."

"You actually need to pass a physical copy in order to process it..."

"Just ride a bus to get there, you're old now you should be able to know how to apply for one."

"Can't you just ask for allowance?"

"I think you need a few more points to land for Dean's..."

"I am sorry, your performance is lacking."

"You should have tried out for publishing."

"Did you not get it for that club?"

"That's all that you've got?"

.

.

.

I just wanted to not feel. Not think.

Somehow, all I can ever do about it, is to be grateful that I am alive. But really, isn't it rare to be alive?

[tavarillasgalen]

Was thinking a lot about how insecure and unconfident I am and why that is, because like... sure, depression, but also like... I used to be so confident. I used to think I was good at things. I used to blush at compliments but be able to accept them rather than reject them and think the person is lying to be nice. And like yeah, I had my moments, but as a whole, I was so much more confident and had such a stronger belief that what I wanted would pan out when I was younger.

And sure, I figured my relationship probably played a role in that going away, with how I was constantly compromising and giving up on what I wanted in order to make him happy.

But I think I finally pinpointed what, exactly, led to this being such a huge struggle for me now.

And that is that he would make fun of my insecurities, and then when I would get hurt and tell him to stop, he would say he was just joking and thar it was just "part of his culture". But I spent a lot of time with his friends, family, neighbors, who were all part of that culture, and never ever heard anyone make a "joke" out of someone else's insecurities. Out of their own? Yes, constantly. Out of someone else's? Never. And whenever someone would take a jab at his insecurities, he never tried to be like "oh, haha, they're just joking!" He'd rant or cry or get sullen about how mean that person was.

But with me, no, it was always "just a joke" and I was "so sensitive" and it was "hard to remember cultural differences". And I pulled that on him once so he could see how it felt, and he got hurt. And I was like... so... this is NOT part of your culture, or you would be laughing. You KNOW exactly what you're doing.

But he kept claiming it was just his culture and that I was too sensitive. So I just started to give up on it.

Like, if someone is crying about failing a test and then you "joke" about them getting an F even when they study... you know you're being cruel. You can't feign ignorance. You can't be shocked when that hurts them.

And then the constant one-upping too. Like, I could never have a win. If I did something, he did it too - and better. Sure, I worked out, but he used to be a competitive athlete (even though when we were dating, he was so out of shape, he'd get out of breath during a flat hike....) sure, I wrote, but he had this story in his head he's been thinking about since elementary. Sure, I danced, but he had danced at community events.

So then I was like, there's no point mentioning when I have a win, because he's always going to find some way in which he was better than me.

And then he would never take my side. And like, you would hope your significant other would call you out when you are in the wrong. But like... there is no way someone can be in the wrong all the time. But I'd complain or rant or get upset, and even if he didn't know who I was talking about, he'd take their side over mine. I was always the unreasonable one, I was always the problem. And like... yes, sometimes, sure. Who isn't? Everyone fucks up sometimes. But ALL the time??? That's impossible. And even in regard to things that you would think would be no-brainers - like responding to things like "I'm sad I can't go to this thing because this guy who assaulted me will be there" with "you definitely can, you just have to let what happened go".

So, if you are with someone for 7 years who makes "jokes" out of your insecurities, who constantly tries to one-up you, who never takes your side, and who constantly tries to pressure you into doing what they want even if you've made it clear that isn't for you (in sexual things, in regards to where to move, in regards to what you all do together, in regard to so much), like... of course your confidence and self-esteem would suffer. Of course you'd constantly second-guess yourself. Of course you would become deeply insecure and think people are lying to you when they say that you've done good things or whatever because you're expecting them to try to one-up you.

Like... after 7 YEARS of that... no wonder I'm so deeply insecure.

But now like... how do you even get past that? How do you overcome that? People constantly say shit like "you shouldn't need external validation, you should validate yourself! :)" but like.... after pretty much the only person in your life was constantly making fun of your insecurities like.... I don't think it's unreasonable to need external validation. I don't think it's unreasonable to need to hear from others when you are doing a good job. I don't think it's unreasonable to want other people to combat your insecurities and assure you that you are capable. I think that's perfectly reasonable, especially after 7 years of your social circle dwindling down to 1 person - and that one person being very toxic. You can only do so much on your own. It isn't unreasonable to need support from other people. Humans are social creatures, after all.

[flamboyantcuttlevawn]

I was a "gifted and talented" child, as they put it.

I frequently got report cards saying how bright I was, how much of a pleasure to have in class I was, although I had a habit of not having patience with other students who didn't grasp concepts as quickly as me, and I had a tendency to do my work at the last minute/ not do homework/ not show my working out.

They tested me, told me I was super super smart and moved me up a grade from year 5 to year 6.

Things they did not teach me: How to study. How to take notes. How to learn. How to try. How to try and fail and try again.

But I was "smart" enough to keep coasting through secondary school, even getting myself put up into advanced English classes, doing year 11 English when I was in year 9.

I got kicked out of year 12 before my senior exams. Because I just stopped going to school. Nobody thought to check why I wasn't turning up to classes (I did go to school most of the time, I just spent all of my time in the computer lab, chatting online). Nobody thought to check why my "pleasure to have in class" self was repeatedly getting report cards that gushed about how much potential I had if I just learned to apply [myself]. Nobody thought to examine why this "gifted and talented" student was so unable to do mathematics that they ended up in the remedial maths class across multiple years.

Did they teach me how to learn how to apply myself? Did they fuck. When I told them I needed help, they told me I had to try harder. They told me I had to apply myself. They told me "you should be able to do this" and left me floundering.

So I got kicked out without graduating high school. Didn't go to university. I had no idea what I wanted to do when I grew up. Nobody sat down to work with me to help me figure out a career that would play to my strengths, and to help me learn how to apply myself and to learn how to do those things.

My entire career - if it can even be called that - has been a series of fortunate accidents from one point to another. The non-exhaustive list of jobs I've had in my life since I started working at 14 includes:

Fast food worker

Retail associate

Receptionist

Customer service agent

Newspaper classifieds formatter

Rail scheduling assistant

ISP Helpdesk agent

Financial services associate

Assistant account manager for corporate photocopier services

Individual & Micro Enterprise Tax Return assessor

Complaint entry & file management

Transcriptionist

Scheduling assistant for a major Electricity company

Administration support for governmental transport department

Client Experience Analyst for a financial software company

In my mid-30s I was finally diagnosed with ADHD and Autism, and there's a strong suspicion that I may also have dyscalculia.

I like the job I have now. It's interesting, it pays very well and I work with a lot of people I like a lot. But being "gifted" in school did precisely jack shit to help me get there. Instead it just left me scrambling to figure out how to cope in a world where people around me were taught how to do things earlier in life, and I was told that I should "just know" how to do them because I was "smart" by the metrics thrown at white suburban western kids.

people misunderstand what ‘gifted kid’ actually means but it’s ok it’s fine it’s cool it’s good