#first of. i’m enjoying it so thoroughly because i can’t really project on it. it’s so refreshing and delicious and oh my god

[sebrrari]

i can’t stop thinking about challengers i watched it 3 times in 24 hours and all i want to do is watch it AGAIN. i NEED to download it into every molecule of my body i need to know that everyone knows that i understand it on a much deeper spiritual level i need to talk about it constantly on a loop with someone else that is seeing the exact same visions i am seeing about. please.

[neowinestainedress]

wave | lee donghyuck

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You simply couldn’t care.

Yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, you can be sure I will.”

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

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

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

Haechan is going to find out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mind to explain?”

“I… I didn’t do it on purpose?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You think I did that on purpose?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come in.”

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

“Mark, can you lower the music?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re just mad you can’t beat me.”

“I can,” he retorts smugly.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Grating? Really?”

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

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

“I am studying.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you mind?”

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing? I was kidding!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, anybody in mind?”

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

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

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

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

“Not yet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you close, brat?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not smart of you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not.”

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

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

“So I know how to beat you?”

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

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

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

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

“We are not studying together.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, but there should be a prize.”

“Being better than you is the prize.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, it’s not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Haechan hates you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you mistake our notes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, just not every…thing…”

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

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

“So you plan on being terrible tomorrow?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With what notes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I swear, I — I want to… I want to —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just replied.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a deal.”

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

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

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

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

“Not now.”

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

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

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

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

“Elaborate and change my mind.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t write anything down.”

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

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

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

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

“Can’t compare Vang Gogh to Picasso.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you can’t come in,” you say.

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

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

“Is it really that small?”

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

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

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

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

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

“But you love it.”

“No.”

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

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

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

“And I’ll be at the library!”

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

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

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

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

“Want to go out with me?”

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

“Great, we’re going out tomorrow.”

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

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

“Where would you even take me?”

Haechan smirks. “It’s a surprise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, I appreciate almost everything.”

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

“You have a car?”

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

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

“Yes, I’m sorry I’m poor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanted to take the metro?”

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

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

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

“You have a car?”

“No, I have a driving playlist.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh God,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Once,” you reply immediately.

“Twice, with the kiss…”

“You did that to shut me up.”

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

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

“Unfortunately, your mouth ruins everything.”

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

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

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

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

“And attracted to honey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now, lyricist… I try, sometimes…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have some notes to edit and —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Haechan, what are y—”

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

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

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

“You really think I fucked Professor Kim?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

“What if they lock us inside?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, until you forget everything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leaving,” he replies, shrugging.

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

“What? Are you wet? Do you want me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You take a deep breath. “I hate you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop mocking me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eager, honey?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? And who’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not the professor so…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, would he fuck you better?”

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

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

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

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

“He seems —fuck— fitter than you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckle, deciding to believe him.

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

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

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

“They locked us in!”

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you say resolutely.  

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t believe you followed him blindly.

Your hands are still intertwined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh, humming. “Oh, I know.”

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

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

“Are you hinting at something?”

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

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

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

“Do you?” He winks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I played with your heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your eyes. “Really?”

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

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

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

“That’s a crazy choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, don’t test me, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

Haechan shakes his head, waiting for you to talk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah but —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, forcing yourself to look into his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t?” He gasps, and you nod.

“Yeah, just coffee.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s fucking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@girlwholoveslpreppyattire, @viciousdarlings, @hyuckmoon,

@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. 

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Teen Audiences Words: 1.7K~ Summary: In which Steven opens up to Peridot a little about his anxieties surrounding his recent “pink episodes.” Peridot thinks she can help him determine the root cause of this problem, but Steven— marooned amidst age-old insecurities and his fears of hurting those he loves— still isn’t convinced he wants anyone’s help.

Finished up a lil' short fic I've had the dialogue sketched out for since 2020.

Enjoy, folks!

__

“So, have you always glowed pink in your sleep like that…?” Peridot asks out of nowhere later that morning, pulling his attention away from the sordid, pulpy mess of a Great Northern teen drama playing on the television set.

Thoroughly thrown off by this query, Steven serves her an awkward half-laugh, scratching at the wispy hairs at the nape of his neck. “Erm, I—”

“Because I don’t remember it happening on any of those nights you used to spend with us at the barn. And as a Gem, my memory should be perfect.”

“Nah, you’re right,” he says with a bit of a weary sigh. “This is new. I, uh- I don’t really know why it’s happening. In fact…” Inhaling deep, he tries to ignore the tittering background distraction of TV characters Jazmin and Rodrigo’s latest stupid conflict as he considers how best to describe his latest predicament. This isn’t exactly a conversation that’s well suited as an aside while watching a show, but he doesn’t want to make a huge deal out of it. “To be honest, it’s kinda become a bit of a problem, lately.”

She tilts her head. “A problem? In what way?”

“Um, I— I can’t exactly control it,” he admits. “Whenever I turn pink, I’m faster, I’m stronger, but… I don’t like the way it makes me feel. I don’t like the thought of even carrying this kind of strength. And unlike all my other powers, I don’t have a single clue what emotion triggers it or why it’s happening in the first place.”

He nibbles at the inside of his lower lip, considering this quandary. Everything about his powers has felt… different, since that encounter with Jasper in the woods a few months back. More unmanageable. More… volatile. For a time he assumed that life was done throwing him new extensions to his hybrid ability, but with every unimaginable feat he’s achieved lately— the capacity to hurl another Gem miles into the sky… a sprint so fast the surrounding world slows to a screeching halt around him… a scream so potent it can shatter the floor, leaving nothing but a wide crater in its wake— it becomes more and more clear that the diamond at his core has only just begun to reveal the true magnitude of its potential energy. 

And stars, that terrifies him. 

He’s not used to holding his power back, he’s not used to such a lack of control. He may have spent his entire childhood fighting to hone these abilities he inherited into something useful, yes, but he didn’t want this.

Peridot hums thoughtfully, her fingers perched upon her chin. “Well, maybe we can figure that out!”

His brow creases inwards. “Huh-? What are you—”

“Like you just said, all your other powers are modulated by your emotions,” she points out, throwing her arms into a casual shrug. “I’m incredibly knowledgeable about the composition and development of Gems, and you know about all the human feelings stuff! Your problem with this ability is clearly built upon the complex interactions between your Gem and organic makeup, so the most logical choice would be to build an experiment out of it. I bring the necessary genius and my tech,” she says with a beaming grin, her excitement growing more palpable with each and every word, “and you bring your experience! I’m sure if we work together we can learn something about this new power of yours.”

“I-I…” he stammers, shoulders seizing tight as the fullest intent of her idea finally washes over him. “No!”

Her face plummets in an instant, his blunt dismissal stripping the winds of enthusiasm right out of her sails.

“O-oh. I just thought… since you helped me try to fix CPH,” she gestures towards today’s entertainment of choice, still running, “maybe I could sorta… return the favor for you?”

Heart hammering in his ribcage, Steven grinds his fingers into fists at his side. 

“I don’t need to be fixed!” he insists, almost feeling sick to his stomach as that damned glowing pallor rises under his cheeks again anyways, a rote betrayal of all his futile claims. “Didn’t we just decide that’s the whole point of us hanging out now? That we don’t have to fix anything anymore?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“I’m fine, okay?” he snaps. “Really. I’m fine. I don’t need your help!”

Interrupting their long-forgotten entertainment, the television turns to static.

He gasps, tension wresting command of his every limb as he slams his hands over his mouth, wracked with embarrassment. H-he… oh geeze, he did it again, didn’t he? He raised his voice. He lost control, he snapped to pink. His breath hastens, rising to match the hurried, erratic tempo of all the excess energy currently surging through his hard-light veins like an untempered wildfire. 

“Steven—?” Peridot utters, her features twisting with undeserved concern. 

The white noise all but dominates his mind. Eyes growing glassy, his scattered perception hones in on the subtle threads of a second emotion evident within the Gem’s worried gaze, an emotion that strips the air straight from his lungs and makes him literally want to scream in his regret:  

Apprehension. 

Fear.

Considering all the horrid mistakes he’s made these past few weeks (graduation… his cactus… the mess he made of the Reef…), his lip trembles at the mere notion. 

His own friend, afraid of him.

Gosh, he could’ve… he almost—

“I-I…” he stammers, scrambling to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Head buzzing with the oppressive specter of all manners of horrid what-ifs, he books it down the stairs and barricades himself inside the bathroom. Quivering hands fumble to lock the door. H-he… he just… he just needs to be alone when he gets like this, all tense and pink, every last sense locked on overdrive, his neural pathways swirling with a sense of terminal dread… his chest rising and falling so fast and heavy that there’s nothing else he can do— no quick salve to this panicked predicament— but sink to the floor like the shambling disaster he is and ride this wave out. It’s the only option he’s got. It’s the only way he can make this nauseating pallor recede back into the branching channels of the damned gem it came from. It’s the only thing he’s bodily capable of doing to guarantee he won’t unintentionally hurt someone like his own mother did.

(He’s assailed by an abrasive, neon pink as his shoulders scrunch inwards, all but powerless to stop that infernal barrier as it pinches ever smaller… his friends calling out, pleading for his help—)

Like he nearly did, too.

Slowly but surely… step by harrowing step… he’s almost beginning to grow afraid of himself.

A timid knock at the door blessedly interrupts his spiraling ruminations. Draws all that volatile energy back to his core as he breathes real slow, in and out, that eerie glow dissipating entirely.

It’s Peridot. 

Because of course it is. 

Because she’s too good a friend to not check up on him, even after such an unprompted expression of rudeness. 

“Just a minute,” he says with a bit of a crack in his voice, dragging himself back up to his feet and crossing to the sink to wash his hands as if to naïvely delude himself (and her, really— but he doubts there’s a single universe that exists where she’s gullible enough to fall for such a petty deceit) that he came here to use the restroom instead of the far more pathetic reality.

And sure enough, when he pushes the door open and shuffles out into the living area, her normally affable and carefree expression is streaked with palpable worry. Well, shucks. So much for attempting to downplay his embarrassing little freak out.

Sighing heavy, he gives up the chase. 

“I’m so, so sorry for yelling at you. That wasn’t very kind of me, you were only trying to help. I just—” he pauses to dab away a stray tear threatening to leak from the very corner of his eyes— “gosh, I really don’t wanna feel like I’m burdening you with all of my personal nonsense.”

She frowns as she gazes up at him, shaking her head in blunt disagreement. “I don’t think you’re a burden.”

Steven shoves his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, his glance skirting away. “Thanks for the assurance, but… right now, it’s really hard for me to believe tha—”

Before he can so much as finish his sentence, his friend surges forwards. He genuinely can’t help the shaky little inhale he makes as her arms wrap tight around his torso, digits sinking in to the fabric of his shirt and her cheek pressed flush against his chest. 

“Steven?” she begins with a dash of timidity, her voice a bit muffled in the throes of their gentle embrace. “It’s okay if you’re not okay. Sometimes… I’m not okay either.”

“Peridot, I-I didn’t—”

“Even now, I… I’m still really insecure about my status as an Era 2 Gem,” she continues, the lingering ache of this admission more than evident within the subtle warble of her tone. “About my diminished height, mostly. And my lack of certain standard abilities. But now, I have so many friends to help me through those feelings. And so do you!” she blurts out before he can even dare to protest otherwise. “Y’know—? I… I’m sorry for pushing the matter earlier. If you’re not ready to talk about any of this, I understand. But if you ever are ready… I’m here.”

Steven exhales slow and shakily, forcing himself to glide past all those skewed, battered mental instincts— instincts that are screaming for him to reject her offered affections and simply bolt away— to sink into her offered hug. His own grip tightens around her petite form. He clears his throat, pushing past all those nauseating layers of shame to express his actual feelings. 

Daring to be brave. Daring to assert some of his genuine desires for once in his life, even if the only desires he can attach concrete meaning to at the moment are just an appeal for distraction, a craving for nothing but tiny, frivolous morsels of entertainment:

“Do you… maybe wanna finish that episode with me before you head back to Little Homeworld?”

“Hah!” she barks with laughter, her features lighting up like a bulb again. “You think you have to ask? Of course I still wanna watch more CPH! Go, go, go, go, go!” she chants, shooing him back up the stairs with a fervent wave of her arms. “Rodrigo can’t make fun of himself!”

[cosmerenewbie]

cosmerenewbie reading journey update:

(07/22/24)

Just finished The Emperor’s Soul & wowee that was a good novella

The Emperor’s Soul is actually one of the first cosmere works I really remember learning about, and it was awesome to finally read it for this reason. I was actually a bit doubtful coming in because it had been so hyped up to me, but my expectations were exceeded.

To be honest, I have been in a *bit* of a slump. Like— I have been reading, but I’ve been flip flopping between books like nobody’s business, & the thing I’ve read most consistently has been a 900k word long fanfiction for an entire other fandom which I’m not even close to finishing. Suffice to say, I hadn’t finished a book for about a month when I sat down to read the Emperor’s Soul.

The Emperor’s Soul itself was an amazing story focusing heavily on transformation. Between the unique magic system, & the uniqueness of the concept itself, I was thoroughly fascinated. I was also surprised at how much emotion a novella so brief could make me feel. Overall, I rated the novella five stars.

I plan on finishing Elantris before the month is over, and I think I’ll be moving Words of Radiance to be more of an August project. To be honest, I have been beginning to miss the Stormlight Archive homies, but I also know that I can’t be reading it & previously mentioned fanfiction simultaneously (bc that’s way to many words). At the moment, I’m waiting for either the hyperfixation on said fanfiction to calm down, or for the Stormlight Archive craving to reach heights which overthrow my hyperfixation on the fanfiction.

It’s really important to me that I enjoy what I’m reading, and I don’t want to force myself to read anything I’m not enjoying in the moment, even if I might enjoy it at another time. I also am visiting my friend who is a nonfiction/poetry/zine reader tm, & might dip my toes in that if for anything the satisfaction of finishing books (& also bc his library is iconic).

[ginger-snap-talkin-nonsense]

Hi everyone! A few days ago I posted my rankings for all the films in the Infinity War Saga of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Having never seen any of these movies in full before this moment outside of Spider-Man: Homecoming and Guardians of the Galaxy, this was a very fresh experience and one I can now thoroughly say I really enjoyed! It may have had its ups and downs, but overall this part of the MCU left us with some incredible movies, characters, chemistry, and scenes that will likely inspire creators for decades to come just as their comic book counterparts inspired their own creation. I am really glad I started and finished this project and while I’ll be taking a hiatus before continuing onward, I can safely say I am now a certified MCU fan.

BUT LETS BE REAL Y’ALL WANNA SEE ME BE A HATER SO LETS GET INTO IT WITH OUR BOTTOM 5 SHIT LIST:

1. Dr. Strange

Interestingly enough the at top of this list is the worst superhero in the Infinity Saga. Dr. Strange is a terribly boring slog wherein Benedict Cumberbatch plays the character that Tony Stark haters think Tony Stark is. Annoyingly smug, terrible chemistry with everyone around him, an absolute bore, and a morally questionable at best protagonist. Throughout this whole movie I’m really meant to care that he’s slowly getting over his hands never being able to work the same again, but because this man is nothing but boring and insufferable every time he opens his mouth I could honestly care less what happens to him.

Tilda Swinton is here giving the least with her performance as Sorcerer Supreme but I can hardly blame her because this movie has no idea what to do with her. Same with Wong, who feels like he’s supposed to be the funny sidekick but gets such little to do and say that you forget he’s in the film at all.

The plot is barebones and devoid of engaging character interactions or cool and endearing scenes of Dr. Strange doing cool shit. Instead we focus on some CGI mirrorverse shit which isn’t cool enough to save a 2 hour spiral of muck.

The only thing keeping this at the top of the shitpile and not further down is the final fight scene being pretty clever and the final talk Tilda has with Stephen being pretty okay. It’s no Frigga and Loki or Frigga and Thor but it’ll do in a pinch. Still doesn’t salvage a movie so boring that Nathan and I spent the latter half of it pretending that Dr. Strange was writing letters to Santa Claus to keep our spirits up.

2. Thor

You know Thor: Dark World gets a lot of shit hurled its way and don’t get me wrong it’s entirely deserved shit that movie is needlessly grey and edgy and lame and everything else that’s already been said. But at the end of all things I can still tell you that the scene of Loki being a total mess in his prison cell after realizing that he got his mother killed is genuinely well written and the only time Loki has been a boon for this franchise.

I can’t say the same thing about Thor which was so forgettable and had such little going on that I don’t remember a single scene from it. Thor is boring, Loki is boring, the Frost Giants are lame looking and barely in it, Lady Sif and the Warriors Three are so nothing that I think they legit forgot Lady Sif was part of them by the time they reached Ragnarok, and the plot is so blah that the only thing people remember is a one off gag about Thor breaking a coffee cup. And I say one off because “God learns how Earth works” gets to be a fun idea for that scene and never again.

And now, a series of disjointed musings

Why make Jane a scientist instead of a nurse in this version if you’re going to contrive a older white man scientist who actually does all the science?

Did you know Hawkeye gets introduced in this movie? He has about as much significance as he does in the first half of The Avengers so I wouldn’t be surprised if you forgot.

Dr. Selvig being such an important character to this series is so ironically funny I think I might actually be mad at Endgame for not having him appear through one of the portals.

Kat Dennings doesn’t even get to show cleavage.

Boy Loki sure gets to do less than nothing and be boring and annoying. Hope this isn’t a trend that continues because if it does then fans were really stupid for hyping him up.

This movie is lame.

3. Ant-Man and the Wasp

This one is actually really simple. The first Ant-Man is an incredibly sweet little flick where Paul Rudd gets to charm bomb us into loving Scott Lang and Michael Penya’s silly antics and Scott’s earnest love for his daughter carry us the rest of the way.

In this movie Hank Pym and Hope Pym will mercilessly attempt to ruin Scott’s life by getting him near put away for 20 years where he’ll never see his daughter again because (lemme check my notes) the grown adult is sad that her parent disappeared as a kid and wants her back…we gonna do anything with the Pym’s being selfish towards Scott and near putting his daughter through the same thing Hope went through for their own family with no regard for his feelings while sporting a callous attitude the whole time? No? They’re supposedly justified because Scott Lang got arrested in the Ant-Man suit for helping Captain America? The correct decision by Marvels standpoint? Hm. Interesting.

Oh also this movie has a villain…I think her name was Ghost.

Moving on!

4. Spider-Man: Far From Home

Maaaaaan I hate when I gotta dislike shit I was rooting for.

I’ll be honest, I have mixed feelings about the MCUs Spider-Man. On the one hand Tom Holland is a great casting pick, I love the younger age, and Homecoming has a lot of great stand out moments. I even like some of the Tony stuff-Tony being Peter’s Uncle Ben is genuinely creative and lends a lot more emotion to his relationship with Peter. On the other this franchise doesn’t wanna let Peter cross a street without pondering for 20 minutes about what Tony would do and every villain he ever fights revolves around Tony and Tony Tony Tony Tony.

I want this Peter to be able to stand as strongly on his own as the other Spider-Man’s of the past, but the MCU refuses to let him off the training wheels and just give him his own movie.

Case in point: Tony is dead and this movie is somehow more about Tony than any other Spider-Man thus far. And when we’re not talking about Peter “being Tony Jr. or maybe not or maybe yes and no” we’re quirking an eyebrow at the fans of the series and scoffing about how they dared hope that Mysterio was gonna be fuckin Mysterio. I’m not a comic or spider-man cartoon person and I found it obnoxious.

The final fight is boring and all the drones feel like their made of glass and there’s just an infinite amount of them and Jake Gyllenhaal is a charm vacuum and there’s a weird joke about Peter hiring a prostitute that makes me uncomfortable and the more I sit on it the more I’m just disappointed that Peter Parker played by Tom Holland has not had a single movie where he can just be Spider-Man on his own. It’s insecure and sad. Just like every attempt this movie makes at going “Come on guys! How laaaaaame would it be if the villain was just magic? Multiverse? Cringe! Am I right, youths?”. I’ll get into more in the next entry, but false confidence masking major insecurity is the fastest way to dump a movie at the bottom of my list.

Luckily for this movie it still has enough good will with Tom Holland being charmingly awkward and Nick Fury (even if not the real Nick Fury) having an appearance that it narrowly escapes the bottom.

Well

That and the other thing.

5. Thor: Ragnarok

So this is the one that a majority of people are surprised about.

“Oh my gosh how is this so low? How is this below Thor: Dark World? This is so your kind of movie!”

Taste is a tricky thing for people. It feels so basic and easy to understand, but tastes are more complicated than we care to admit and that means they’re easy to fuck up and misunderstand. Everything on the surface of Thor: Ragnarok feels like something I SHOULD really like. It’s bright, it’s got a BIPOC lesbian, Thor is silly, we’re having a goofy time with the villains, there’s an interesting theme about family and finding yourself. Hell the movie is directed by Mr. What We Do in the Shadows which I notoriously adore (the TV adaptation of)

But here’s the thing: It’s all fake. It’s an unbridled fake confidence hiding indecision and insecurity. I’ll be honest, I was looking forward to this one. After being let down time and time again by Thor being so miserably uncompelling as a protagonist, and his villains being boring and forgettable, and his plots being threadbare and constantly retreading old ground-this should have been my thing.

I mean, I loved the Team Thor shorts they released! They were funny and delightful and very Taika! So why isn’t this movie?

Every joke that feels Taika is shot like it wants to be anything else (which as fans of Taika’s work know the camerawork and shots are what makes the typical joke of his), Thor is just as bland as ever but has a one off gag or two that were Ad libbed or actively fed to him by a make a wish kid so he’s “quirky” now, Hulk is here but they still have no fucking clue what they wanna do with him or Bruce so he’s just kind of taking up screen time.

I want Tessa Thompson to be so fucking cool and instead she’s barely given anything to fucking do except be an alcoholic with trauma. I want Kate Blanchett to be a awesome villain and instead she’s so fucking boring the only thing I can remember is that she does that dumb little hair fade to helmet shit like 9 times. The Warriors Three are all just kinda murked off and they cared so little they don’t even bring up Lady Sif and in fact the way Thor talks about Valkyrie implies that she doesn’t exist! They want to so hard to forget all the previous Thor movies but have nothing to add in a way that matters.

It wants to be important. But it wants to be forgettable. It wants to be bright. But it wants to be washed out. It wants to have deep characters. It doesn’t want you to think about the characters too hard. To paraphrase The Phantom Tollbooth: “When it’s someplace, it wishes it were someplace else. And when it’s someplace else, it’d rather not be there.”

It’s so focused on what it’s not that it never becomes anything.

People say Thor: Ragnarok is bright-but it’s colors are still just as washed out as any other Thor movie. The only difference is it’s a white smear over the lens instead of a black one. Just like the rest of this movie. Just as smudged and flawed and awful to sit through, but with a slightly different filter of terrible.

At least the first Thor was early. It was before they knew what worked. At least Dark World tried. It did terrible but it wanted to make amends for the first Thor being boring as sin. This movie is more than happy to dance around like it’s the golden child of three very unfortunate triplets, and it smirks with confidence as it stumbles just as badly as they did but without the excuses and while smacking it’s brothers for their blunders. I don’t have patience for false confidence.

HOWEVER,

All of this! All. Of. This. I could also say I felt about Far From Home. In fact, I should arguably hate it more because I love Spider-Man and honestly don’t have strong feelings about Thor. So why this and not Far From Home at the bottom?

I sat through:

Thor

Avengers

Thor: Dark World

Thor: Ragnarok

Four movies. Four appearances of this character. A character I was routinely told was sooooooo good and soooo fun and soooooo babygirl.

And every. Single. Appearance. Is the same fucking thing.

Tom Hiddleston does his best to be charming when he can’t be, and begs the audience to think he’s nuanced as he flits back and forth between hero and villain.

“I betrayed my family. Actually I changed my mind. Actually changed my mind again. Oops killed my mom. Sad now. I’m gonna be a good guy and try to fix this. Changed my mind I’m an asshole. Now I’m a hero. Now I’m a villain. Now I’m a hero. Now I’m a-“ until the moment Thanos crushes his windpipe in Infinity War.

I was more than sick of it by Thor: Dark World, but thought that after having that really good scene where he realizes that only he is to blame for his moms death and how much he does, in fact, care about his brother, that finally I would get to see this great character everyone creamed over during these movies release. That after this terrible excuse for “development” this character might finally be worth his time on screen!

And then Ragnarok came out.

And that’s why this is the worst one! Goodnight everybody!

[ecargmura]

Pokemon: Path To The Peak Episode 1 Review: Card Games On Actual Earth

An animated series about the Pokemon card game? I’m intrigued! How was it? I quite liked it! It’s rare to see the TCG side of Pokemon get this type of content, so I’m sure a lot of TCG players are thrilled. For me personally, I’m not much of a card game player. I like collecting Pokemon cards, but I’m not much of a card game player. I did play the TCG online and I did thoroughly enjoy it. Maybe I should retry playing the online game when I get the chance.

How was the first episode? I enjoyed it! Seeing Ava get accustomed to her new school and then finding something she thoroughly enjoys doing is always nice to see in a kids-oriented show. In fact, seeing a Pokemon animated show that actually takes place on Earth is a first for me. It’s not bad. It shows that Pokemon is not afraid to experiment. I think that the show taking place on Earth does help with the realistic factor in the sense that it’s hard to make a TCG anime that revolves around the fictional universe when Pokemon and humans work side by side. So yeah, I’m saying that it’s innovative.

Seeing Ava trying to get used to her new school and trying out new things and failing is always nice to see. Kids always try something new and see if they like it or not because that’s how they grow. I’ve tried a lot of things before coming to where I am now as a writer, so I can relate to Ava on that matter. However, I am a bit envious that there’s a Pokemon club in school. Maybe I’d be less of a dweeb back in my youth if there were people that enjoyed Pokemon like the people in the club.

The other characters that aren’t Ava are actually really nice to see. Joshua is a good player; he’s a bit of a rival character, but he’s a nice guy. He doesn’t bully Ava or anything. He’s just there to let her know how fun TCG is. Ava was frustrated at first, but thanks to Joshua, she found her calling. I like the relationship between her and her dad. The fact that her dad knows how to play the card game and helps his daughter. Since the box belonged to her mother and her father knows how to play the game, I do wonder if her parents were once TCG players. I hope this gets explained later on. Celestine was introduced at the end, so I can’t really give an opinion on her. From first glance, she seems to be the mean rival that most Pokemon games have; Joshua would be the nice rival equivalent.

I do like that Ava’s main Pokemon is Oddish. It’s an unusual choice and I always appreciate when Pokemon animated content chooses the less popular Pokemon as a main partner; the last time I’ve seen an underrated Pokemon be used as a partner Pokemon was the Poketoon episode, Blossom’s Dream, where Blossom’s partner was Nidoran. I do wonder if Ava will plan on evolving her Oddish to improve her card battling skills. Joshua’s partner is Jolteon and Celestine is Mismagius. They’re interesting choices.

The animation was really good. I’m more familiar with animation created by people in Asian countries, so to see an anime created by Western people is novel to me. Despite the novelty, it’s still good. I love the fluidity. My favorite part is where the cards float around Ava in her imaginary meadow. Animation is not an easy feat. I can tell the artists worked hard for this project and I want to applaud them for making this beautiful.

The music was good. I quite like the BGM used during the second Ava vs Joshua match. It’s fast and perfect for action scenes. I also like the music used when Ava is in her imaginary meadow. Though, my only gripes with the music is that the sound effects are so loud I can’t hear the music.

The voice actors are people I've heard for the first time. Ava's voice actress Nyara Afshar seems like a relatively new actress from what I've looked up. Joshua's voice actor is AJ Beckles, who voiced Hop in Pokemon Journeys. Celestine's voice actress Abby Espiritu voiced another purple haired girl in Romin from Yugioh Sevens. Ava's mother is voiced by Nazia Chaudhry who voices Nyla from Gundam - The Witch From Mercury and her dad is voiced by Mick Lauer who voices Looker in Pokémon Masters. I think they're all doing a very good job with the voices. They're expressive and give the characters life!

There seems to be four episodes. The first was being in the club. The remaining three episodes seem to revolve around competitive TCG, so I’m curious to see how that unfolds. To all the TCG players or card game enthusiasts, is this show doing the card game justice? How accurate is it to the actual card game? Please let me know what you thought of the overall episode!

[quotemenevervore]

I’m on my projection arc (aka the fiancé fic in which they fail to communicate once more)

Content warnings: talk of soft, safe g/t vore, some panic and character having bad thoughts

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He felt bad.

No, that was the understatement of the month. He felt miserable. He just got back from a tale, a particularly gruesome one (he just knew based on the aches he had he’d have phantom pains for months to come) to find the house empty, vacant of either fiancé. Trying to wrack his brain, he couldn’t even figure out where they’d gone. Had something happened, were they mad at him too? It wouldn’t surprise him, at this point.

Maybe they’d finally realized what had happened. Maybe they finally realized they’d rather not have a non-hybrid in the relationship.

Tears were welling in his eyes quickly, and he took a deep breath, willing them away. He should have a drink, make some tea, sit down and write the tale. Then he could come back to the situation at hand.

Yep, that big ball of anxiety was still there, even when he’d finished the final word and put the book in the library. His tea was half empty, cold as he took another drink. A good amount of it splashed out of the cup, down his hoodie and onto the floor as a loud knock at the door startled him fiercely. Adrenaline thoroughly flooding his veins and the tea uncomfortably soaking into the fabric of his sweater, he went to the door to give the visitor a piece of his mind.

It was George.

The brunette quirked a brow at the agitated look on Karl’s face, looking down to the stain on his sweater and back up before commenting. “Do you need a minute to change?” “Why are you here?” “Checking in. You’ve been gone for a while again.” That’s right, George does know about the time traveling, doesn’t he? Karl let him into the house, stepping away to go change upstairs. When he returned, the other brunette had taken a seat on the couch, patting the seat beside him. Karl almost felt like he was getting an intervention by his parents again.

When he’d finally made his way over, he kept his head down, unable to handle eye contact at that moment. “So.. how did it go this time?” “Rather not talk about it.” He grimaced, grabbing at the sleeves of the shirt he wore. It was one of Sapnap’s, since he pretty much only had short sleeved shirts. “Figured you'd rather start with that than the actual reason I’m here.” “How did you even know I was back?” “I was coming to clean up the house a bit since it obviously needs it,” he guestered around the living room, which- yea, it could use a small pick up, blankets and throw pillows thrown around. “and heard someone rummaging again. Quackity’s in his country and Sapnap’s checking something with Sam and Dream.” “Is it.. safe? What Sapnap’s looking at?” “No, but Dream won’t let him get hurt. He’s dealt with it before but he can’t alone.” And isn’t that just vague as hell? Karl debated giving the other a piece of his mind, but held his tongue. “So why are you here? You said there was an actual reason, is it just to clean?” “No.” He snorted. “You’re home, it’s your house, you and your fiancés can clean it.” The feeling of this becoming an intervention arose again, and he swallowed his dread. “So-“ "Your fiancés are worried about you.”

“..what?” “They came by a while back, talking about how they were scared to lose you and they didn’t know what was wrong. Obviously, they haven’t talked to you about it because they’re idiots.” A million and one possibilities rushed through his mind, making his head spin. “…why?” “They said you were becoming distant, you weren’t engaging with them as much as you used to. Couldn’t give me a straight answer when I asked them what the hell they did to piss you off, of course.” Distant? He couldn’t even fathom how he’d been- oh. Was it.. really that obvious?

Since he’d been stored that first time, when he’d had a full-blown panic attack in Sapnap’s body, he’d felt.. separated from his hybrid fiancés. They enjoyed storing each other and him, and being stored by the other, but he just couldn’t get as enthralled with it as they were. It was still, even this late into them doing it, just too much for him to handle. The saliva texture was just bad, it felt too restrictive in the mouth alone, never mind how tightly he was squeezed by-

He forced a long, deep breath, sounding more of a huff than an actual breath. “I..may know why. But, it’s not really-“ “Don’t even try saying it’s not a big deal. Its big enough of one that your stupid fiancés came to the one person not in a relationship to ask for advice.” He sighed. Maybe.. maybe George would understand. Surely he would, right? He’s human, he’d understand why hybrid customs aren’t common to him. “It’s… Have you ever been afraid of being stored?” He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing in preparation for his answer. “Yea.” His eyes opened, locking onto the other’s face. “When Sapnap first did it, when Dream first pushed me to do it, it was terrifying. Honestly? Probably traumatizing, too. There was that one time he went to store me without me knowing and I just freaked out. I still think of it, every time I get stored. Especially after that experiment when I willingly went into Dream’s stomach not even knowing if it was safe for me to or not.”

“You.. you did that?” “Dream was worried nobody else would agree to it. Let alone it work and wind up getting widespread all over the smp. Which, too late for that.” “You understand.” He perked up. “You know how scary it is.” George nodded. “Maybe not in the same way that you do, but yea. It’s pretty nerve-wracking, even after all this time. Is that why you’ve kinda distanced yourself?” Karl nodded, sheepish. “They really like using their hybrid traits to show affection, and it was fine until we actually found out about the storing instincts.” The other nodded, taking that information in for a good moment. The silence that fell between them wasn’t light, but it wasn’t tense either.

“You know relationships aren’t really my thing,” George started, catching Karl’s attention. “But I can tell you without a doubt that those two care for you more than practically anything. I’ve heard Quackity threaten his staff over you and Sapnap before, and Sapnap’s always the first to go running if he even thinks something’s happened to one of you. They’re worried enough about you that they came to me because I’m not a hybrid. And technically you aren’t either, you’re a shapeshifter, if I remember correctly.” He nodded. “Right, so they came to me because they figured I’d have more insight on it than like.. Dream, or Wilbur.” “But-“ “I seriously doubt that they’d be upset with you because you tell them you don’t wanna be stored. You don’t even need to explain why. I don’t think they’ll push you for a reason. Hell, they might just be upset with themselves for not noticing it.” Karl looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. “Just talk to them. Because if they come bother me one more time I’m actually going to rip my hair out.” “I can’t promise it’ll go over well, but I’ll try.”

~ ~ ~

Once George left, he crashed on the sofa, exhausted by everything that occurred in the morning- well, that whole week prior, too. When he woke up, it was to a kiss to his forehead and Quackity smiling down at him. “Morning, sleeping beauty.” “How late is it?” “I just finished making dinner,” the avian looked at the window and his gaze followed, seeing the sun setting behind the tree line. “So it’s like… seven? And Sapnap’s running late, but he’ll be here.” He took a seat beside the brunette, leaning against him gently. “How was it this time?” “Definitely could have been better.” “Sorry.” the avian grimaced. “Not your fault.” Automatically spilled from his mouth, though he leaned onto the other a little more to solidify the statement. They sat like that for a few moments, enjoying the peace and each other’s company, before Quackity finally pulled back. “I’m done waiting on him. Let’s go eat.” They made it to the kitchen, the blackette dishing up Karl’s plate and starting to dish up his own when the door opened.

“I'm back!” Their third stepped into the kitchen, wincing at the surprised and angry look he received from his fiancés. “You’re late, you know.” Quackity’s arms were crossed, a wooden spoon wielded loosely in one hand. “Sorry, George stopped me before I could come home. Said he wanted to talk to me about something.” At that, Karl’s heart stopped. “What about?” The conversation continued, as if they hadn’t noticed how that one sentence ruined his entire evening. Though, he had developed one hell of a poker face thanks to the tales. Maybe it just wasn’t obvious to his somewhat oblivious fiancés. “He called us both stupid.” “For?” “…How about we eat dinner first? Then we can talk about it.” Yep, George definitely clued him in.

Dinner became very tense, every bite feeling like a step closer to his death. Well, maybe that was a little dramatic, but still. His nerves finally caught up to him and he pushed his plate away before it made him sick, three-fourths of the meal still left on it. “Karl?” “I.. don’t feel like eating. Still not feeling a hundred percent after… you know.” He lied, only feeling more sick when both of his fiancés accepted it easily. “That’s fine. Do you wanna go lay down for a bit? We’ll come join you when we’re done.” Sapnap offered, even standing up to come help him. The gentleman. “Yea, maybe I should..” He should just go pack his bag. But he let Sapnap lead him to the living room, help him lay down on the couch, and make sure he was comfortable before he returned to the dining room. He knew they were whispering to each other.

Eventually, the other two finished dinner and the dishes, and he was met with both fiancés once more. He sat up to let them sit by him. “Take it the tale didn’t go well?” Sapnap asked, leaning his weight into his side. “No, it didn’t.” “Sorry, man.” “Not your fault.” “Still.” Silence came and went, each hybrid fiancé taking a turn trying to start a conversation and only making the smallest of small talk before Quackity finally had it.

“Okay, I'm just going to put it out there. Karl, you’ve been kinda.. off, since the whole storing thing started up. So, just be honest: do you like being stored or not?” The Mexican did not mean it to sound hostile, Karl knew, and yet he still almost flinched at the question.

“Well.. it’s.. it’s a little complicated?” “There’s nothing complicated about it, it’s a yes or no question.” Sapnap prompted gently, seeing the brunette’s discomfort. “I mean, it really kind of is, actually.” His eyes were stinging, he was so scared that they would leave, but the looks on their faces just told him that they weren’t gonna accept a nonchalant answer. At least they both looked concerned, his mind tried to ease the fear closing his throat. “What’s complicated about it?” Quackity’s wing brushed against his side, and he took a shuddery breath, trying to brace himself for the inevitable.

“I.. so, when, when we all first found out about.. this-“ “Me or Sapnap?” “Sapnap. It was when you shrank, actually. But, I thought since you seemed to be okay with it, maybe I would be too.” The fireborn tensed beside him, and the quick glance Quackity gave him confirmed his fears; Sapnap was likely gonna take it personally. He couldn’t bear to look either of them in the eyes after that, head dipping down. “It’s nothing against either of you-” “We never took offense. Do you wanna finish?” He cringed, but before the avian could say anything else he forced himself to continue. “So, I shrunk down, trying to be playful about the situation because Bad had me really scared. He made it seem like Q would be killed because I left you two alone. And the shrinking down was fine, jarring and a little nauseating, but fine. I mean, the portals do the same thing so..” a nervous chuckle escaped him.

“Then Sapnap actually put me in his mouth, and I thought I’d be fine still. But.. you both know how I can get with textures.” “Oh, Karl..” Sapnap breathed. “So, I tried powering through it, I knew you couldn’t exactly swallow me dry. But then I kept getting disoriented, and then it just became too much, especially when you did swallow me and I just- I couldn’t handle it.”

“You… you’ve never actually turned us down.” Quackity sounded concerned, almost appalled, and the tears spilled over. “I didn’t want you guys to think less of me since I wasn’t a hybrid.” He closed his eyes, bracing for them to leave, but two pairs of arms wrapped around him instead. Sapnap buried his head into the crook of the brunette’s neck, and he could feel him shaking slightly. “I’m so sorry. I never fucking noticed- I’m sorry.” “It’s.. not your fault. I agreed to do it-“ “I should have noticed you weren’t okay.” “Karl, why would you think we’d leave you over a boundary? You’re allowed to make boundaries like this.” “Because it’s complicated!” He huffed. “Because… sometimes it is okay, and sometimes I actually like it. And I always appreciate the things you guys do for me. But it’s just- ughhhh.” He buried his face in his hands.

“And yet, all of this could have been avoided if you’d just told us.” “But-“ “We’ve known you for how long, Karl? We know better than anyone how your texture thing works. And you know better than anyone that we wouldn’t make fun of you for setting a boundary, or wanting to stop if something we’re doing is making you uncomfortable or scared. We love you, and we don’t want you to feel bad in your own home.” Burying his own face into Karl’s other shoulder, he hugged him tighter. “And I am so sorry I contributed to that, with my instinct problem and all that.” Sapnap had since stopped shaking, but he was still latched tightly to the brunette, mumbling soft nothings into the other’s hoodie, drawing shapes into his back through the fabric. “I love you both so much, and I’m sorry I never told you two about this. I was just scared.” “It will never happen again, Karl. Promise.” “What?” “I think what Sapnap’s trying to say is that we won’t let this happen again. If you’re up to being stored, say the word, and you know we’re more than happy to oblige. But if you’re having an off day, or issues with textures and all that, we’re not gonna make you suffer through it just for us. You won’t ever be stored against your will again.” “It was never against my will-“ “You know good and fucking well what I mean.” “Yea.” He huffed an amused laugh, stifling a yawn. Emotions were tiring.

“What would you say to an early bedtime tonight?” “I think I’d be okay with that.” Karl smiled down at Sapnap, who’d removed himself from the other’s side finally. A small, tired smile graced his face. “Let’s go.” Quackity also pulled away, only to stand and help him to his feet. They gently guided him to their bedroom, silence broken only by the trio getting ready for bed. Karl hadn’t even noticed how quiet the house was at night until that point. “..Are you okay?” He blinked, looking at the avian. “Yea.” Letting himself be led to the bed, he wound up in the middle, Sapnap pressing himself into his side and wrapping an arm across his chest. “Sap-“ “You’re cold.” He huffed. “Kinda hard to stay warm when someone made me spill tea all over myself earlier.” “Who?” Quackity took to his other side, but didn’t completely smother him like the fireborn. He intertwined their fingers and rested his head against his own. “George. Came by earlier and scared the living daylights outta me. I had just gotten back.”

“So George did come talk to you.” “He said you two were driving him crazy.” A soft laugh was his answer. “There aren’t a whole lot of humans we can really ask about stuff like that. Would you have preferred we asked Niki?” “She’s still mad at me, so she wouldn’t have answered us even if we tried.” The avian added. “And Tommy’s-“ “Let’s just stop there, I actually would have been mad if you went to him for relationship advice.” Karl mused, melting into the heat his fiancés provided. “George never specifically told us what you two talked about, if that helps. He just said we all needed to talk. Me and Q finally figured it out on our own.”’ “I’m so proud.” Karl snorted, letting his eyes fall closed.

“Good night guys, I love you both.” “Good night, Karl.”

~ ~ ~

George found a box sitting on his porch when he returned to Kinoko. Furrowing a brow, he gingerly picked it up and carried it inside, cautious on the off chance that it was dangerous or fragile. It was placed on the table as he moved to his storage, putting away the things he gathered from his trip out. Finally, curiosity got the best of him, and he turned back to the box when he’d returned to the main room.

The last time he’d been gifted a box, his friend was in it. This one had been wrapped, so he sure hoped there wasn’t someone in it. The thought alone made him want to throw the box out, but he steeled himself and tore the wrapping off, removing the lid and setting it down before he finally turned his attention into the box.

There were… cookies. A lot of cookies, actually. Chocolate chip, sweet berry, even some he couldn’t recognize. Picking up a yellow one, he inspected it for any kind of particles or anything off-putting about it. Taking a bite, he recognized it as a honey cookie.

There was a note attached to the side of the box, and he grabbed it to read as he finished the cookie he had already started to eat. He could recognize Karl’s slightly messy handwriting anywhere.

George,

Thanks for helping us with this whole situation. We know you didn’t really want to, but we appreciate your effort. We got it all sorted out, and we’ll be okay. We didn’t really know what to do to thank you, so we just got you some cookies.

Thanks, the fiancés

Each of them had signed their own names, two a little more messy than Quackity’s neat signature. Though, he wasn’t surprised since he and Quackity did most of the documents for their respective countries. A small huff of laughter escaped the Brit, but he set the rest of the cookies in his kitchen.

And nobody mentioned it when they saw the letter sitting on his desk in Kinoko.

[savannaswrites]

on tlh — i agree completely! i did read gotsm and loved that version of james and matthew way more i felt like neither of them really had an in-depth personality in tlh? but just in general i think the versions of the tlh characters in all the short stories and extra content are much more compelling. with characters like anna and ariadne too, but especially james. there was those hints of tragedy that were never quite fulfilled, but also so much fascinating mysteries that tlh doesn’t delve too deep into. don’t know if you’ve read the shadowhunter academy, but his and matthew’s characterization in nothing but shadows was my favourite, whereas in tlh i struggled to understand who james even was at all (more sensitive herondale? will and jem combined? is what i think he was meant to come across as but it didn’t quite work for me) and the potential of james and matthew as parabatai set up in that story was sort of lost.

i also can’t stand their love triangle with cordelia it was tired lol, although to be fair that’s because i kept holding out hope that she’d make matthew unrequitedly in love with james or with both james and cordelia to parallel tda haha. not to start ranting about tlh but i do agree that i wish james and lucie (and matthew since it’s set up in the first two that he likes staying in the downworld) could have interacted more with downworlders since they are technically part warlock. anyways!! yes the lore and downworlder/shadowhunters politics and relationships with the main five (six counting ghost livvy, or seven counting ash) that you set up in fearful symmetry were definitely what got me so excited. i also really loved thule livvy coming back and saying she’d only talk to ty, and then the next chapter we finally got to see ty, and his narration was perfect. omg i’m sorry i wrote so much again. thank u for replying <3 — fs anon

ah, i'm so sorry it's taken me a gazillion years to respond to your message! i read it and was like, i have GOT to finish chot before i write back so i can know what's going on, and -

it did take me forever, i'll admit. that book was a SLOG. also, i am so sorry!! i called that book i was thinking of gotsm, but you are ABSOLUTELY right, it was tftsa that i was thinking of!! i read those two back to back and tbh really thoroughly enjoyed the short story format, although i will admit to being like. frankly quite confused. because if i remember correctly i hadn't gotten around to reading books 4, 5, and 6 of tmi yet, but i had read the emma and julian books, so i was like wtf...simon is alive again?? a;sdkfj

but back to the point: you are 1000% correct, that wonky love triangle in tlh was UNSATISFYING. actually, to be totally, brutally honest, i sort of felt that whole trilogy was wildly unsatisfying. you know?? like, we spend SO much time on this love triangle that just fizzles out without really forcing any of the characters into that crucible that i loved in tmi or tid, so it's like...they don't even emerge changed from this experience?

i would have lOVED it if matthew had been in unrequited love with james. after tftsa, i was like [eyeball emoji] in the hopes that that could be the dynamic, but of course, no such luck...do you think maybe cc just thought that would be too similar to the jace & alec dynamic from all the way back in tmi? because like yes, alec did think he was in jace, but i sort of feel like those books took pains to clarify that he was maybe projecting on him a bit, and that he wasn't truly in love with him the way tessa and jem and will were in love with each other. so this would still have been different, u know? and it would have contrasted so INTERESTINGLY to emma and julian being at the center of that series, i think!

but also, what TERRIBLE villains tlh had. not only were they not intimidating or even very interesting, but the power scaling in the books to me just completely undermines the stakes in twp books before they've even started. this fallen angel is ancient and powerful, but will banter with teenagers and leave them alone to scheme in his stolen realm for no particular reason? and that whole thing with cordelia and cortana...like...i loved emma getting that weapon, but we SEE her train CONSTANTLY. wanting to fight is part of who she is! with these books, it's like their being meant to hunt demons was just so much set dressing for a story that's not quite as interesting as it thinks it was. maybe that's too mean to say??

i just feel like, okay. you have TEN heroes, every single one of whom gets scenes from their own point of view, and the idea is that that won't cause pacing problems?? hELLO. when the narration has to stop and start over and over and over again to tell us exactly how a character is feeling when we could just as well have surmised that from a more focalized narrator just made these books sooo much work.

also i'm so sorry you were like 'not to start ranting about tlh' and that's IMMEDIATELY what i did, but please do let me know what you think because i've been mulling this over since i finished the book and i just??? you know??

[dragonsareourfuture]

Can I have reader comforting the wammy boys hcs please 🥺🥺🥺?

Comforting the Wammy Boys

I’ve rewritten this request about three times over because everything felt kind of…off. I wanted to do this request justice because of how cute of an idea it is, but that just led me to overthink. I just kinda had to take a step back and look at it in a different light. I believe I have something now that I’m happy with and can share with you guys!

Matt

Matt finds it quite zen when you take to tracing his bullet wounds with your finger, soft and gentle strokes to the scarred tissue. Sometimes you’ll play ‘connect the dots’ with them, or break out a marker and make them into something new — like a fuzzy little cat. On some of his worst days, when he thinks of those wounds as nothing but permanent reminders of the Kira case, your casual appreciation of them is exactly what he needs to remember that they’re so much more than that. They’re an extension of him and that’s what makes them wonderful.

He likes the simplicity of cartoons. Something about how everything ends up alright, no one really having to apply themselves, all the dumb luck…it’s extremely comforting to him. On days that just don’t feel right, when Matt doesn’t feel like he can apply himself and feel alright afterwards, he’ll ask you if you’re cool with just lying around watching cartoons that day.

“You wanna talk aliens?” Please say yes. Matt is invested in conspiracies and if you want to make him feel better you will say yes. He’s not even sure if he believes in them, but chatting with you about everyone’s theories, all the ‘evidence’ and which is most plausible while others are clearly hoaxes. It’s just so comforting to be able to forget about important stuff and focus on something wild for a minute.

Although Matt thoroughly enjoys lazy days, sometimes he gets pretty bad lows when he has too many lazy days in a row. That feeling of being useless…he can only really push it aside for so long. On the days that feeling catches up to him, what he really needs is some time outside. It’s honestly best to be assertive — tell him that you’re going somewhere and you want him to come with — or else he’ll just shrug and continue feeling worthless on the couch all day. Even a simple grocery store trip can get him feeling better, especially if he gets to help out. (Can you tell I’m projecting? Can you?)

Near

Your hands are just really comforting to him. Like, whenever he gets overwhelmed with anything he will come to you and just take your hand in his, putting all his focus onto that one thing. He will play with your fingers, pick at your nail polish, twist your rings…anything to get the focus off of the bad stuff. Sometimes if he anticipates he’ll be there for a while he brings a little ball of yarn with him so he can do cat’s cradle among other cute yarn shapes.

For some reason I see Near being really comforted without even knowing when he’s merely in your presence. Of course you have to be calm as well, but I can see him gaining a lot of comfort from his environment. When his environment consists of you, minding your own business in an office chair while leisurely spinning yourself around, he can’t help but soak in some of that calmness.

Hear me out, hear me out: stop motion. It’s such a process. It’s so complex yet so simple and I can see you proposing Near start up a stop motion project with all of his toys when you literally have no other ideas on how to help him feel better. But…he ends up liking it??? Like, a lot??? You help him out, of course. It was your idea after all. You take all the pictures while Near positions the toys, and after many, many hours of working…you have about a minute of footage to show for it. You are quite disappointed, but Near is so excited about the future of the project that he’s virtually forgotten about what he needed to be distracted from in the first place.

L

Whenever you wash his hair…it’s the most comforting shit in the world to him. The feeling of your fingers gently massaging his scalp, running through the soaking wet yet still somehow messy strands, brings him back to a simpler time and, of course, reminds him of just how much you care. If he’s ever feeling like he needs a pick me up, into the shower you go for some purely wholesome hair washing. You’ll know he’s in a better mood if he offers to wash your hair once you’re done with him. If not, you're stuck washing your own hair, sorry.

Occupy the time he spends over analyzing and torturing himself with memories of mistakes he made in his past and how he could have fixed them with the knowledge he knows now…with some baking! Sometimes it’s just not good for L to be left alone with his own thoughts. He gets trapped in them, following a path that never ends. It used to be that you had to snap him out of it, but soon L learns to catch himself before he gets in too deep and comes to you to distract himself. He’ll present you with the recipe book you got him as a gift and ask if you can set aside some time to bake with him, and how can you say no to those weird ass bug eyes?

When a long, stressful day comes to a close and L is finally somewhat free to do as he pleases…he is going to choose to continue working. We all know this. Sometimes it’ll be necessary, like if certain documents need to get sent out by a certain time, but other times L just feels like it’s pointless to take breaks if he can do everything right now and save time. What he fails to realize is that mindset can be detrimental to his health, and even makes him less productive at times. If you notice the latter is happening, for the love of god be assertive. Take his laptop and paperwork and lock those bitches away. Call Watari and inform him of what’s going on so he knows not to put more work onto L. L will be pissy about it at first but he’ll come around by the third slice of cake and second round of Uno. Board games are a perfect way to help him relax while stimulating his brain at the same time. He’ll feel much better after a fun game night, and will be in a much better mindset when he’s ready to tackle some work again in the morning.

Mello

Unlike Matt, Mello is incredibly sensitive about his scars no matter what mood he’s in. There’s a time and a place to talk about them or appreciate them, as it is quite common for him to get overwhelmed when they are mentioned or touched directly. So whenever someone in public tries to bring up his scars, whether they’re asking how he got them or making crude remarks about them, the best way to comfort him is to get him into a private spot so he feels more comfortable letting his more vulnerable emotions out, then ask him what he needs. If you’re at home alone, however, and you notice that Mello has styled his hair to drape over most of his scar tissue, feel free to take a moment to tell him how beautiful he looks today, scars and all. Do be prepared for (at the very least) some misty eyes, though.

It’s not uncommon for Mello to come home in a flurry of emotions after a rough day. Most of the time, he’s pissed off at someone or something. That’s why it’s so important to him that you listen to him. Listen to his rants while cuddled on the couch, his head in your lap while your fingers stroke through strands of his hair. Listen to his tirade about the guy at the coffee shop who got his order wrong again, and then his dramatic story about the bitch who cut him off while driving home — listen to all the little things that added up while he was already feeling worthless that day. He values being heard so much, so when you give him signs that you took in everything he said, whether that’s making comments throughout his stories or offering a second opinion, his heart will warm in a matter of seconds and, after that, the little problems don’t mean anything anymore.

When Mello gets injured or sick, it’s not the physical pain or symptoms you have to worry about. It’s his ego. See, Mello is someone who can’t stand when people pity him or look down on him in any way. That definitely makes it a tad difficult for you to take care of him, as there is always going to be some level of pity shown in those actions. But you’ve found that he responds a lot better to your care once you lay out the facts of the situation. “You can’t walk right now, so I have to go get you your food and medication, okay?” It helps him remember that you’re not doing this because you look down on him, but it’s literally something you have to do for his health. When you’re not busy running errands for him, you spend time with him in bed snuggled up under the covers, or just hanging out. It makes him feel better with you there by his side, letting him paint your nails or style your hair to distract from the shitty situation.

He honestly loves cuddling? Like, a lot. Physical affection is so affirming to him considering it’s one of the most direct of the love languages, and he’s a direct kinda guy. He’ll ask for cuddles no matter what, really. He could be shaking in your arms, the tremors ranging from seething anger to choked sobs, or he could be too tired to even move a muscle. Your hold on him could be gentle while rocking back and forth, or vice-like as your arms clamp tight around him. He just needs to know you’re there and that you care.

[robininthelabyrinth]

JC adopts stray/rouge cultivators after the war au to cope with the destruction of lotus pier. also i love your writing so much!!

Gratuitously Acquired - ao3

-

1

At first, he took anyone who would join, needing numbers – needing people. There were plenty of cultivators that wanted to be associated with a great sect. Plenty, too, that were barely more than criminals, wanting to use the smoke and ash of war to obscure the past, to cover up old crimes and wash themselves clean.

Jiang Cheng wasn’t in any position to refuse them. Soldiers were soldiers.

After the war ended, though…

Some he cast out. Others, even more despicable, he slaughtered for what they’d done.

A few –

“Yan Qiao.”

The female cultivator in question, who had been sneaking out of the still mostly ruined Lotus Pier at night in flagrant violation of curfew, froze in her tracks.

“Uh,” she said. “Sect Leader Jiang. Fancy finding you…here…now…at this time…”

Jiang Cheng looked at the basket of buns in her hands. “You’re stealing leftovers from our kitchens to feed orphans among the common people,” he said. “Again.”

She blushed. “No one wants them now that there’s better available, Sect Leader! Really, they’ll only go stale, and then rot – and I never stole when it was the army eating them!”

“That’s not the point,” Jiang Cheng said irritably. “Tell me, how in the name of heavens did you really get branded as a criminal? Distributed too many alms? Did too much charity?”

Yan Qiao coughed, turning red. “I told you before, Sect Leader. I killed a man.”

“He must have done something particularly heinous, then. You’re shitat killing.”

“Now I am. Sect Leader, if you don’t mind…”

“You’re one of the ones who wants my surname, right?” he interrupted. “Consider it granted.”

Yan Qiao – no, he supposed he’d better start thinking of her as Jiang Qiao – gaped at him. “But…Sect Leader!”

“I’ve barely granted it to anyone, so you’d better live up to it, you hear me?” Jiang Cheng said in his best threatening voice. He’d been assured by several people that it was really quite threatening, anyway. “I don’t want any excuses. Now go feed your damn orphans, and in the morning I want a report on how you think we can do it in a more structured manner. I can’t have you sneaking off every night anymore! Now that you’re a Jiang, you’re going to have work.”

-

2

When they were done with war and started firmly on rebuilding, the Jiang sect’s name was firmly reestablished as a Great Sect once more, it was the opportunists that came.

Smiling faces, sycophantic voices, cowards one and all – like beetles crawling out of the woodwork, not willing to risk their lives, but willing enough to beg for scraps and advantages later on when it seemed safe enough to do so.

Jiang Cheng wanted to chase them all away, but his sect was still weaker than he wanted to admit, still rebuilding, still more army than civilian operation. They had valiant soldiers by the dozen, but they needed more than that. They needed administrators, supervisors, artisans, smiths, merchants, laundry-women…

They needed workers. The ones they got – well, cowards they might be, but skills they had.

He still rejected most of the worst of them.

Most.

“Bo Zhou,” he said, inspecting the surprisingly flush list of taxes they’d collected that quarter, and the man in question turned to grin unrepentantly at him. “You’d tell me if you were a con artist in a previous life, right?”

“A previous life, Sect Leader?” Bo Zhou said. He was still grinning, but then, he was always grinning. He had a crooked leg and an even more crooked heart, and he’d probably steal candy from little children if he happened to have a hankering, but he was amazing at getting people to do what he wanted. Too amazing, really. “Why limit yourself? What about thislife?”

“…Bo Zhou. Tell me you aren’t a former con artist.”

“I may or may not have had a sideline selling snake oil and protective talismans before I became a cultivator,” Bo Zhou admitted cheerfully, and Jiang Cheng pinched the bridge of his nose – less out of actual irritation and more to keep from actually laughing. The only person he knew that was more shameless than Bo Zhou was Wei Wuxian; he couldn’t wait to introduce them once Wei Wuxian stopped skulking around in wine shops long enough to get back to doing his job as Jiang Cheng’s head disciple and right hand. “Who would’ve known that making all those fake talismans ended up making me pretty good at making actual talismans when I became a cultivator? Really, who could have called that?”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Who taught you how to cultivate, anyway? Can I – I don’t know – seek vengeance on behalf of the rest of the world or something?”

Bo Zhou rolled his eyes right back at him. Shameless! “Is this about the taxes? Just be happy I got them all!”

“I can’t just be happy! What if this money is stolen property?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sect Leader. They’re what we shouldbe getting, and from all the right people. You told me this was the right amount yourself!”

“Yes, but no one ever actually pays the full amount!” Jiang Cheng enjoyed the way Bo Zhou’s jaw dropped. “I just wanted to see if you could actually do it.”

“I’m hurt at your lack of trust.” Bo Zhou paused, considering. “Also a little impressed at you for keeping a straight enough face to trick me. Well done, Sect Leader.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said. “You too, Jiang Zhou.”

“It’s Bo…” He trailed off, comprehension arriving and speech departing, and this time he didn’t have a quick retort. He’d been nagging Jiang Cheng on and off for the Jiang surname for the last few weeks, more joking than anything else – he knew that Jiang Cheng hadn’t given his surname to the vast majority of the new people in his sect, only the very few he thought were worth it.

Jiang Cheng enjoyed the newly dubbed Jiang Zhou’s moment of speechlessness thoroughly, since he was moderately sure he wasn’t going to get another one anytime in the next – ever, possibly.

“You proved your worth and your trustworthiness,” he said, patting Jiang Zhou on the shoulder. It occurred to him that he should probably come up with a courtesy name for the man, although he wasn’t sure the man would want one. “Also, congratulations, you’re now the person in charge of tax collection. See if you can think up some new thoughts about supplementing our income, will you? We have so many costs, and I don’t want to rely on Lanling Jin more than I can help it, not like Gusu Lan…”

“Oh, really?” Jiang Zhou interrupted, abruptly excited. “I have so many ideas! How ethical do you want to be about this?”

Jiang Cheng paused. “…very?”

“Be reasonable, Sect Leader!”

“…moderately?” he tried, a little more desperately.

“I can work with moderately. I don’t suppose you’d accept ‘thin and barely plausible veneer’?”

“No.”

“Oh well. Moderately ethical it is!”

-

3

Most of the Jiang sect was slaughtered during the attack on the Lotus Pier. Disciples Jiang Cheng had grown up with his whole life, had expected to see by his side in the future, his friends, his family, even his petty childhood enemies – all gone.

Well, not all gone. There were some Jiang disciples that had been away from Lotus Pier at the time, whether on some errand or a night-hunt or other reasons; they rushed back to his side as soon as they could, of course, and formed the core of Jiang Cheng’s new Jiang sect. When he’d felt utterly alone, when even Wei Wuxian was missing, they had been there for him. They’d preserved their lives and then they’d promised them to him, and it wasn’t until they knelt before him that he really felt like a Sect Leader.

There was no way he could give any of them up now.

“Jiang Meimei, you can’t go,” he said, having completely abandoned all shame in favor of clutching at her robes as if he were a child. “I need you!”

“I’m not even a proper Jiang disciple!” she exclaimed, exasperated – or possibly just annoyed that her grand plan to sneak out in the middle of the night had been stymied by his ambush. “Just because my surname is still Jiang doesn’t mean I didn’t get kicked out, remember?”

“I thought you just left,” Jiang Cheng said, temporarily distracted. “No one ever really talked much about it, actually, but to the extent anyone did, they said that you’d decided that your inclinations were more suited to being a rogue cultivator. That you didn’t want to be weighed down by sect expectations –”

“Hah!” Jiang Meimei tossed her head. “As if it wouldn’t be better to be a roving sect cultivator than a rogue cultivator! I won’t deny that I had a fair bit of wanderlust in my youth –”

“You’re only ten years older than me, you’re not that old.”

“Shut up, brat.”

“You can’t tell me to shut up, I’m your sect leader.”

“You’re my baby cousin is what you are, and, again, I’m actually not part of the Jiang sect!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jiang Cheng argued. “You’ve been at my side during the entire Sunshot Campaign.”

“I wasn’t going to let my baby cousin get himself murdered, now was I?” Jiang Meimei sniffed. “But I’m still a rogue cultivator. They kicked me out when I wouldn’t accept a marriage, and I’m still firm on that.”

Jiang Cheng blinked. “Wait, you don’t want to be married? Really?” he asked, concerned. “But what about poor Liu Lingling? You shouldn’t be sleeping with her if you don’t intend to be serious about it! I’m pretty sure she’s just waiting for the current project you’re working on to finish to find a matchmaker to exchange birth characters –”

“They wanted me to marry a man,” Jiang Meimei clarified, but her habitual frown had eased considerably; she looked almost on the verge of a smile. “A-Cheng, you’re being dense again. You’re the Sect Leader of a Great Sect now. You know that that means you need to have alliances, marriage contacts with other sects, and that means using your subsidiary branches.”

“Jiang Meimei, you’re the one being dense,” Jiang Cheng said. “You think I’d force you into a marriage? I don’t have subsidiary branches. I barely have a sect, even after all this time. I’m not Wen Ruohan, handing out my surname to anyone who wants it – I only give it to the ones that matter, the ones I want to keep, and those of you that actually share my blood are even rarer, even more precious. How could I give you away?”

Jiang Meimei pursed her lips.

“I really do need you,” Jiang Cheng said quietly. “You weren’t part of the Jiang sect at all, not really, but you still came to help me – you were there from the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign, and you’ve never strayed, never left. You’re my right hand. I can’t do without you.”

Jiang Meimei turned her head away. “It’s not that I want to leave you,” she said. “But becoming a rogue cultivator was hard enough the first time. I couldn’t rely on any of the things that I had always had, everything always changing. I was young and angry then, I could handle it, but things are different now. I’m less flexible, less compromising, older, more tired – I can’t just walk out on a whim and just rough it anymore. I have a girl who, yes, I want to eventually marry; I want to have children. I need certainty. Are you going to give it to me?”

Jiang Cheng looked down at his hands. He’d known it was going to have to come to this, but he’d been dragging his feet, not wanting to succumb to a reality that already existed. Had existed for longer than he wanted to admit, as if simply denying it would mean that it wasn’t the truth.

Like a child.

“Yes,” he said, though it tore his heart out of his chest to do it. “I will. Jiang Meimei…will you take the position of Head Disciple?”

Wei Wuxian wasn’t coming back. Jiang Cheng had already cast him out of the sect, just like Jiang Meimei had been, except in Wei Wuxian’s case it had been something that Wei Wuxian himself had demanded. He was living in Yiling now, and by all reports was quite happy there with his little Wen sect family that he’d picked over Jiang Cheng and all his family.

He was never coming back.

It was time to move on.

“Yes,” she said, and shoved her pack into his chest. “Now go unpack that for me. Consider it payment for driving me to extreme measures!”

“I’m your sect leader, you know,” he grumbled. “Officially, now. You could show me some respect.”

“Would you rather pay for my wedding down the line?”

“I’m going, I’m going!” And then, as he scurried over away, he shouted over his shoulder: “As if I wouldn’t be paying for it anyway! You think my Head Disciple’s going to be married in anything other than top style? Better start planning…”

“Don’t rush me! Brat!”

-

4

Jin Ling wasn’t surnamed Jiang, but he was the most important person in all of the Lotus Pier – and Jiang Cheng wanted to make sure everyone knew it. It hadn’t been easy for him to get the chance to help care for Jin Ling, especially here, so far away from home; Jiang Cheng had expected to barely be allowed to visit, to have to cool his heels outside of Lanling City begging just for a glimpse of him. Being able to take him home to raise for half the year, even if it was due to the dangerous infighting amongst Lanling Jin, was more than he’d ever dreamed.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t clear that Jin Ling himself agreed.

“He’s still crying,” Jiang Cheng muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Surely he’s got to stop sometime? I mean, just – physically?”

“They say a boy resembles his mother’s brother,” Jiang Meimei said, echoing the gesture. “If he’s got your lungs and stamina, Sect Leader, we’re doomed.”

“I’m rethinking the whole having children thing,” Liu Lingling said blearily, having fallen asleep on her soon-to-be wife’s shoulder several times, only to be woken up by the next round of crying. “I need sleep.”

“Go get some, both of you,” Jiang Cheng ordered. When his cousin scowled at him, he scowled back. “I’m serious. If he keeps this up, we’re going to need to go into shifts. I can last a bit longer.”

“That’s a filthy lie.”

“It is not. Your sect leader has given you an order – get to it!”

It was a filthy lie.

Jiang Cheng opened his eyes when the crink in his neck grew too irritating to ignore, at which point he realized he’d been asleep – and, more importantly, that Jin Ling was somehow not crying.

He sat up with a start, suddenly terrified: had something happened to him? Had he been silenced forever? Had Jiang Cheng failed this one last duty he had to his sister?

“Shhh, little one,” someone was whispering, not far away. “Let me tell you the one about the Weaver Girl and the Cowherd, yeah? You seem like someone who’d appreciate stars. It all started –”

Jiang Cheng went to go look.

A teenage girl was rocking Jin Ling in her arms and telling him a story in murmured tones, and Jin Ling was yawning and trying to gnaw on her shirt. She wasn’t even a cultivator, as far as Jiang Cheng could tell. Her clothing suggested some level of poverty, her accent the countryside – how’d she even end up here?

He wasn’t sure he cared.

Jiang Cheng didn’t want to disturb her, but he did anyway; a shift of his weight, a scuffling of his feet, and the floor creaked. The girl jumped, startled, but luckily Jin Ling was already most of the way asleep and just grumbled a little instead of starting to screech.

“How’d you do that?” Jiang Cheng asked, nodding at Jin Ling. “Make him stop crying.”

“My mother had seven kids after me,” the girl said, answering automatically. “And her sister had six. Someone had to learn to deal with all those babies, and it ended up being me. Think it’s just habit after this long.”

Jiang Cheng couldn’t handle one baby. He couldn’t even imagine.

That’s when the girl seemed to remember herself, and bit her lip. “Uh, sorry,” she said, hanging her head. “I heard him crying and I couldn’t resist...I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be here. It was an accident.”

“How did you get here?” Jiang Cheng asked, because accidental or not, a security breach was still a security breach. “And who are you, anyway?”

“My name’s A-Hua. I’m here to work in the kitchens, just got hired this morning; the fourth cook is my uncle’s wife’s cousin, she got me a job, said it was a good place to start – I was trying to find my way out so I could go to the servant’s quarters to get some sleep, but then I got lost…”

More likely she’d decided it was better to try to stay somewhere indoors than go out in the pouring rain to try to find her way to the right set of quarters, Jiang Cheng thought to himself. “Give me your hand.”

“Uh. What?”

He ignored her stare, took her hand and felt her pulse. There was a little bit of natural talent there, though not much; she might, if she tried hard enough, become a cultivator, but she’d never be more than a servant.

Unless, of course, she did something unusual to impress someone.

“Forget the kitchens,” Jiang Cheng told her. “You’re hired on a provisional basis to keep an eye on Jin Ling.”

The girl nodded, eyes wide as saucers. “Can you – do that?”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can. What’s your surname? You can’t go around being called A-Hua, we have at least seven people that I know of that go by that name.”

The girl looked distressed.

She probably didn’t have a proper surname. Some people in the countryside didn’t.

But they really couldn’t go around shouting “A-Hua” every time Jin Ling was crying, which was basically all the time.

“Fine,” he said, giving in. “Do well, and I’ll consider letting you use mine. But only if you do well!”

-

5

Jiang Cheng was covered in mud thanks to a successful-but-at-what-cost night hunt and angry about it, stomping around the lotus pools on his way back to town, when he heard the familiar sounds of someone having a panic attack.

He slowed, involuntarily, and took a look: it was some teenager dressed in black, heaving miserably by a tree.

Jiang Meimei had once said that Jiang Cheng was a bit weak when it came to teenagers.

Jiang Cheng said that was nonsense.

Jiang Hua chimed in, quite loyally (if perhaps not with the best timing), and said he wasn’t.

Jiang Cheng yielded the argument at once to keep Jiang Meimei from laughing herself sick.

In view of that, he was better off ignoring the kid. After all, what was it to him that some kid was having a fit of anxiety right next the same old lotus pool that he used to have his own teenage fits of anxiety next to, under the shade of the same old tree that had sheltered him – one of the few places that remained untouched by the Wen sect’s aggression, one of the few places that was exactly the same?

Jiang Cheng groaned and walked over. “Okay, fine. What’s your problem?”

The kid looked up at him. He had dark circles under his eyes. “I think my heart’s about to explode.”

“That’s just the anxiety,” Jiang Cheng said, and sat down next to him. “What’s causing the anxiety? Don’t say that someone is better than you and your parents are disappointed in you.”

“What?” the kid blinked. “No, it’s not – it’s not that. I’m about to screw up the very first job I ever got.”

Jiang Cheng considered that. It was just different enough from his own issues that he didn’t suspect a plot, and yet close enough that he might actually be able to offer some expertise.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked reluctantly.

“Not to some mud-man,” the kid said, and – hey! It wasn’t that bad. He thought, anyway. Actually, it probably was that bad. “I just…I’m the only one left. I have to make something of myself!”

Jiang Cheng’s eye twitched. “What do you mean, you’re the only one left?”

The kid stuttered through his story. It wasn’t as bad as Jiang Cheng had initially feared, but it was still pretty bad – his small village had had bad harvests, and there had been starvation, a bad winter; the kid had been sent out to get help, but it had taken too long and he’d arrived back to find them all already gone. He’d been lost, but some traveling cultivator had agreed to take him on as a disciple provided he proved himself, had taught him all sorts of skills, cultivation and talisman-writing and music –

“Music?” Jiang Cheng asked. “Not the sword?”

“There was only the one,” the kid explained. “Obviously he kept it for himself.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t think much of that – surely this cultivator, whoever he ws, could have shared, just long enough to teach? – but he didn’t comment. It seemed fairly clear that the kid didn’t actually think very highly of his teacher, although he was very earnestly trying to be appropriately filial.

It was a little cute.

“…and I was supposed to wait here for someone when they came by here, some fancy rich person, and then get them to follow me, but it’s been ages and no one’s come by at all!” the kid wailed. “I’m such a screw up!”

“You don’t even know who you’re waiting for?” Jiang Cheng asked, and the kid shook his head. “How were you supposed to get them to follow you, then?”

The kid scratched his nose. “My master said that if I showed off some of my cultivation, they’d follow me right away.”

Jiang Cheng suppressed a smirk. “It must be very impressive cultivation, then.”

“…not really. I only know one trick,” the kid admitted. “But it’s not that hard, and it looks impressive – here, see, wait; give me a second, I just need to whistle –”

Zidian crackled to life on Jiang Cheng’s finger before the kid finished the first stanza.

“Stop that!” he cried out, leaping to his feet, and – startled – the kid stopped, blinking owlishly at him. “Is that what your master taught you?!”

“Yes?” the kid said. “Did I do it wrong?”

Jiang Cheng gnashed his teeth. “That’s demonic cultivation. Never do that, okay? Ever.”

“But then how am I supposed to get the fancy rich person to follow me, assuming he ever showed?”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed. If he hadn’t tripped over that branch and fallen into the mud – if he hadn’t taken an extra half-shichen to struggle out of the mire – if he’d walked by in all his usual finery, rich person that he was, and seen some kid practicing demonic cultivation…

He’d have given chase in a heartbeat.

More to the point, everyone knew he would. His reputation had been pretty much set in stone by this point.

“Let’s go find that master of yours,” he said. “Right now.”

Of course, that ended up leading Jiang Cheng straight into the bastard’s trap, which would have been a problem except that he’d taken the time to send someone to tell Jiang Qiao, who’d been waiting for him back in town, that he’d be a bit late and not to worry, just wait where she was.

She’d ignored his instructions and arrived just in time to knife the demonic cultivator – a human trafficker whose operations Jiang Cheng had shut down with extreme viciousness only a few months before – right in the belly, gutting him like a fish in a swift easy motion.

“I think I’m getting the hang of it again,” she said, smiling at the knife, and Jiang Cheng made a mental note to ask exactly how manymen she’d killed to get that criminal brand of hers, except the poor kid was sinking down to his knees with a horrified look and, shit, that horrible bastard, evil as he might have been, was probably the last person the kid had in this whole rotten world, wasn’t he?

“Does Jiang Hua still have those beginner manuals we dug up for her?” Jiang Cheng asked, and Jiang Qiao nodded. “Good. Tell her that starting today, Jiang Jianwen here’s her little brother. She’s been pining over raising someone ever since Jin Ling got to be too old to snuggle.”

The kid looked up with wide eyes.

“No, you don’t get a choice on the name,” Jiang Cheng told him. “Whatever name this piece of crap gave you, just forget it, you hear me? You can do better than him. But no more demonic cultivation!”

-

+1

“I wish I could visit the Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian mumbled, looking wistfully downriver. They were very close by, but he still didn’t dare, even though Jiang Cheng had grumpily extended an invitation through Jin Ling. So much had happened – he just didn’t know where to even start.

He didn’t want to get into all that messy history with Jiang Cheng.

He just wanted to visit, that’s all.

He missed Jiang Cheng, but he missed the Lotus Pier, too. The food, the places, the air…

“I just need a secret way in that even the sect leader doesn’t know about,” he sighed. He’d once known them all – but there was a different sect leader now, and a different Lotus Pier. He couldn’t risk it: Jiang Cheng might find out that he’d snuck in and feel hurt, thinking that Wei Wuxian was avoiding him, when he was just avoiding the conversation; that would just make everything worse.

Lan Wangji would have distracted him, but Lan Wangji himself had been distracted – some man in Jiang sect colors with a heavy limp and an excited sort of air had rushed over, shouting something about wanting to talk about tax policy and possibly also games of chance, and Lan Wangji had all but fled. It had been so funny that Wei Wuxian had nearly laughed himself sick.

“I know one,” someone said, and Wei Wuxian glanced over: it was a young man in Jiang sect disciple robes, little more than a teenager – only a few years older than Jin Ling, if he had to guess. He was smiling, ducking his head a little; he looked proud of himself. “I mean, if you really want. But only if you don’t mean any harm!”

How adorable, Wei Wuxian thought, and grinned at him. “I just want something spicy without having to go through the whole process of greeting people, is that a crime?”

“Not at all!” the kid exclaimed, beaming, and Wei Wuxian almost felt bad for conning him. Almost.

“Do you really know a secret way in?” he asked, pretending to be doubtful. “Really?”

Sure enough, the kid – Jiang Jianwen, apparently, he must be the kid of one of the ones that survived the massacre – was easily lured into insisting that he did know, and then to agreeing to act as guide.

And, moreover, it turned out he really did know his way inside, which made this the easiest infiltration ever.

Or so Wei Wuxian thought right up until he felt a knife point touch his ribs.

“Well done, Jianwen!” a young woman – also in Jiang colors – said, reaching out and ruffling Jiang Jianwen’s hair.

“Aw, it was nothing,” he said, just as bashful as he was when he’d been talking to Wei Wuxian. “I couldn’t have done it without shixiong luring off Lan-er-gongzi.”

Wait, that’d been part of this, too?

That was worrisome.

“Hardly nothing,” the older woman standing behind Wei Wuxian said. She had a certain sort of rock-hard steadiness that was more worrying than the knife she was holding on him – she was a powerful cultivator, familiar with killing and scarred with a criminal’s brand, and yet she seemed entirely at ease in a way that suggested a strong sense of righteousness, with no guilt or weak points he might exploit to make an easy out. “You successfully conned the Yiling Patriarch into following you right into a trap.”

Wei Wuxian wondered if he could deny it.

“I don’t know, shijie, that doesn’t seem that hard,” the first woman said. “Isn’t he the kind of person to run head-first into danger at the first instance?”

“Head-first into danger, and like his tail’s on fire away from dogs,” the older woman agreed, and – damnit. There was clearly no denying it; they actually knew him. Though from where, he had no idea. “A-Hua, Jiangwen, let’s go – we don’t want to be late for our meeting.”

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to tell me who we’re going to go see?” Wei Wuxian tried, putting on his most charming smile. “Or, perhaps, who you are, and what you have against me…?”

“Jiang Jianwen you know,” the woman said, rather unexpectedly. “I’m Jiang Qiao, and this is Jiang Hua. Our shixiong is Jiang Zhou – he’s the one that makes Lan-er-gongzi lose his wallet every time he’s forced to visit Yunmeng.”

Wei Wuxian was almost distracted with the tantalizing prospects of stories about Lan Wangji. Almost.

“You’re all surnamed Jiang?” he asked, surprised: he might have believed it for Jiang Jianwen, maybe, he was young enough to be the son of someone in the last generation. But Jiang Hua and Jiang Qiao looked absolutely nothing alike either to each other or to Jiang Cheng, and at least Jiang Qiao was old enough that he should’ve recognized her if she’d been a Jiang. There’d been a lot of people in the old Jiang sect, even if you limited it to those surnamed Jiang, but he’d been Head Disciple back then – he’d known almost all of them.

“We’re adopted,” Jiang Jianwen said. He looked very proud. “Sect Leader Jiang took us into the family as part of the branch lines.”

Wei Wuxian had never once in his life wanted to have the surname Jiang, not even when he’d been mocked for not having it. He’d never even thought about it. Not ever.

He felt a stab of envy at the word family, though.

“He gave you his surname?” he asked, and tried not to feel jealous when they all nodded. “Oh.”

It made sense, he tried to tell himself as they walked through the back streets of the Lotus Pier. The Jiang sect had been demolished, and Jiang Cheng practically the only survivor but for whoever happened by coincidence to not be at home – the Jiang sect would need branch family members, and adoption made sense. There was no reason to resent the idea of Jiang Cheng giving the name he had always treated as being so precious to a branded former criminal, to a con man, to a commoner from the countryside, to a –

“You were a what?” Wei Wuxian exclaimed.

“A demonic cultivator,” Jiang Jianwen said bashfully. “Not a very a good one, though.”

Wei Wuxian wanted to say something to that. He didn’t know what, but something.

“Enough chatter,” Jiang Qiao said. “We’re here.”

Jiang Hua opened the door and Wei Wuxian stepped inside.

Then he tried to step back out, only to be crowded in by the others.

“No, no, no,” he said. “No, I was willing to play along until now, but this is a step too far. You don’t understand! She’s going to eviscerate me!”

Jiang Meimei – older than the teenager he remembered her being when she left the sect, but still unmistakable – grinned with her teeth bared.

“Oh good,” she said. “At least your brain is still working. Now come on and have a seat, and we’re going to talk about how you’ve been treating my baby cousin recently…”

[cookeoli]

Alright, okay.. I hear you. Maybe let’s not? You know, being a bit judgemental of myself never hurts. I still argue it helps me give my best performance at times. Ooooh that is pure evil. I like it. I might just take after that. Might be even more effective if we both do it, don’t you think? People who talk to us about it will think they’ve royally fucked up. Do it even better by serving a very confused look, walk away whilst saying “Excuse me.. I have to make some phone calls”. God I might actually be evil for real but is it bad I would just love seeing the faces people would pull? Yeah no I know, I’ve done a couple of interviews with him and he is just awful. Me and Phia had to sit him down at one point and thoroughly explain that he could not speak of this, nor that. Just proves even more that half of his brain is constantly asleep. I do not envy Matt who had to do far more promo things with him than I did. The anxiety of sitting next to him and not knowing what he’s about to blabber on about, is not for the faint of heart. You know what? That’s not a bad idea actually. The producers should just hand us all notes with the key parts of every episode so we know what happens. We can’t be expected to remember every episode. This is something to take up with the crew. Like we don’t need all the details. But just a short summary to freshen up our memories. I mean with the amount of times we’ve seen the first two episodes now, I think I may know them like the back of my hand. But the rest? Completely blank. Just a white paper with nothing on it. I can’t remember shit. Well I can.. But not what goes in which episode and all that you know? Nah I wouldn’t hope you would actually let me camp out on the street. I would do it. But I much prefer the inside, can’t lie. Ah you are an angel, I know it. Thank you for not letting me die, I appreciate it tons. Fear not, I shall come bearing an Alicent one and we can sort out a trade of sorts. Can’t have Rhaenyra being on her lonesome without her bestie. Nah, you think we would? The occasional disagreement because of lack of sleep or something. But know when it’s time to shut up and leave the other one to be, don’t you think? Do I have more faith in this than you do, is that what we’re establishing here? No way you are actually the one who’s telling me to have less coffee? You drink far more than I do. Hey shush now. Jittery Olivia is your favorite. Okay maybe not. But you like her, I know you do. I am making progress now that I’ve started drinking caffeine free tea in the evenings at least. I just have a lot of energy, sometimes. You should be thankful you get to witness those moments cause you also get to witness the not very awake version of me a lot of the time.

No I know babes. You know my favorite moments are the ones I get to spend with you. I adore the entire family we have. But I am forever grateful whenever we are paired together to do anything and I will be eternally grateful that this project has pulled us together. Undoubtedly we would’ve found each other in one way or another either way, I really do believe so. You know I’m still freaked out about this whole thing just as much as you and many times I think you play it far cooler than I am able to. I mean, it would be difficult to find someone more down to earth than yourself. Oh I still enjoy it very much, can’t deny that. But I enjoy it more when the bartender doesn’t give me that knowing look, you know? But thank fuck we’ve still got beers and martini’s too huh? Yeah and also just cause he’s so fucking cool? Like we can’t tell him that but he’s like, cooler than the lot of us. It’s nice whenever one gets to be around him cause he takes over just the right amount. Gives you a breather. He’s also just fantastic at reading a room and reading your vibe. Like he gets it. But oh god, he can never know we praised him this much or we’ll never live it down. Yeah in that sense you’re right, the worst part is over. At least it’s on going now and the world will know and see more and more of it and the more our shoulders can start to sink. Yeah no a massive relief indeed. I don’t know how many more interviews I could get through on such little sleep. I mean once again I’ve been going viral they say over laughing at the most monstrous things. Thank fuck I’ve had almost the entire week to just sleep. I know, it’s strange isn’t it? Still feels strange. At least it made the moments we did get to share all the more special. Or something like that to make it seem less negative. At least you got to see Matt more than me that is. You know we do. We always find a way, a reason. Not that we ever need an actual reason to hangout. Only one more week until your play is over and you’re mine for the entire summer. In an ideal world where we both have the entire summer off that is.

Least judgemental person when it comes to other people? Absolutely. Least judgemental person when it comes to yourself? Perhaps not. My new tactic is to simply act surprised every time somebody mentions the show getting renewed. I'm like 'oh really? That's wonderful' and then the other person feels incredibly awkward about having broken the news to me and panics a little bit that they've just told me I've been fired or something. Fabien is awful, much more awful than me, Matt has consistently said how he's dropping accidental spoilers. We are all a mess and it's even more complicated now that the season is out. My brain is a mess at the best of times but now I have to remember what happened in each episode and what I can and can't say to people, it's so much worse. Somebody tried to talk to me about episode one yesterday and I almost went into what happens after Helaena burst in on you because I forgot the show ended at that point. I need to carry a detailed notebook around with a synopsis of each one to refer back to. Camping out for me? I can't bear the thought. I'd have to let you inside, especially as these nights come with such a chill. I can't have you catching your death on my watch. You'll have to come and raid my cupboard of Funko's. I'm pretty sure I have one for every outfit I've ever worn on the show, and some I don't even remember. Sadly, nobody has gifted me an Alicent, so my little Rhaenyra's are extremely lonely and sick of just looking at themselves. Pretty much how I feel on a daily basis — so I would welcome you moving in to give me something else to focus on. I'm unsure how long we'd last before driving each other around the bend though. I'm going to give you some advice, it's up to you if you take it or not — maybe don't have so much coffee? You may be less jittery and actually get some rest. Not that I don't love jittery Olivia, but I am quite concerned about your constant state of energy and awakeness. I know you do and I'm forever grateful at your support for everything I say and do. I still find this whole process and the invasiveness of it all quite daunting but it's a lot easier when we're in it together. Don't get me wrong, I love the others and it would have been great to do some more press with Matt, but our characters are so deeply entwined with each other and I feel that's bled through into our real lives. You are as much a part of me and my experience as Alicent is to Rhaenyra and I'll always be thankful. The negroni sbagliato thing has a whole life of it's own, so much so that I can't drink it anymore. I have to make a point of having something else so we can all move on from it and leave it in the past. Please never ask me what my drink of choice is ever again, for the sake of both of our sanities. I guess it's perhaps because Matt is used to all of this madness with Doctor Who? Their fans are just as passionate, if not more, so he's been in this bubble before and knows what he's doing. He's also one of the most charismatic men I've ever met and thrives on interaction with people, whereas I am much more the opposite and like to not see too many people or say too many words. I had hoped it would calm down a little and to be honest, I don't feel as suffocated as I did on the lead up to it. At least I can be a little more free with what i say and each week, it'll get better. The main bulk of the press is over though and that's always a relief, don't you find? I long for the days where we all were on the same set together. I not only lost you, but I lost Matt too this season and it made me really feel like I took those early shooting days for granted. I just spent all my time wanting to get the band back together....somewhere other than the car park. Now we're not going to be having all this promo time together, we'll have to find another place to meet up for catch ups.

[utilitycaster]

Wizard Breakdown Tracker, Episode 138

I think it is easy to forget that literally every episode that aired in the year of Our Common Era, 2021, has taken place over the span of *Spurt voice* eleven days. Well. It has. And, indeed, the last seven episodes have covered roughly two days.

The reason this is only about wizard NPCs is because they serve as a sort of audience surrogate in that they are nerds who don't go outside, vs. D&D PCs who see more shit in two to eleven days than most people would see in a lifetime; case in point, Essek's current state of shock. This is also making it very hard to check in with the other wizards. But also this is not about accuracy, even though I am usually right about everything. This is about...honestly I'm not sure, other than wizards.

What I'm trying to say is:

Caleb Widogast is a PC, not an NPC, and is not included in these strange statistics*.

Currently sidelined: Pumat Sol, Oremid Hass, Ludinus Da'leth, Astrid Beck, E_dwulf Grieve

Obligatory self-indulgent Vess Derogna song parody: Tomb....takers, killed you in your room, they’ll end the world soon but hey/you cult wizard, lost in a blizzard, whatever you’ve done, well, murdered, you’ll stay

Trent Ikithon: I am 100% serious that while I have made Narrative Sense In Actual Play Media in the rock on which I will cast my Temple of the Gods, if the final boss is Trent riding on Uk'otoa...I won't be mad. Like does it seem tonally off? Yes; Critical Role is not humorless high fantasy by any means** but they are not actively trying to seem like something that should be airbrushed on a van, usually. But will it be pretty awesome? Yeah.

Trent on the other hand is pretty fucking mad, presumably, because Caleb continues to leave him on read and also picked up a little something called Mind Blank, which is actually useful and not in fact No Thoughts Head Empty. With that said I don't think it's increased; I think we're just at a steady simmer.

Conclusion: 7/10.

Essek Thelyss: Okay I am a dabbler in both cosmic horror and mathematics; I enjoy many elements of both but am an expert in neither. But if I may drop the jokes for a second, how incredible is it that in this alien setting of a city that is an unwitting and unwilling amalgam of consciousnesses, with all the trappings of classic cosmic horror, two people decided to take a scientific risk with things seen as forbidden or foreign by their respective cultures...and won.

I don't know what will befall Essek and he's clearly still having a pretty rough time of it, even though unlike Caduceus I don't think he was brought to the brink of profanity again, yet; but no matter what happens at least he'll have the nat 20 of instant long rest. No matter what happens...he was right about dunamancy. Fucking ironic how much potential the dynasty is wasting, really.

With that said he does have a red eye now even though all he (and, to be fair, Fjord, Veth, and Caduceus as well) did was fight off an eldritch abomination without rolling what must have been like a 20 Wisdom save DC. Like, he (and Fjord, Veth, and Caduceus) do not deserve this. You think this man has a positive wisdom score? In this economy? (actually, he might, I say, looking at Caleb 'Wisdom Ostensibly 16' Widogast).

Conclusion: keeping him at 8/10. It's funny because he is fully on an emotional roller coaster but it's averaging out to about an 8/10 each time; it's just that he's constantly beset by horrors beyond imagination and really terrible rolls but also incredible validation of his beliefs that had so long been ignored. The man's mental state is basically a sine wave, which interestingly enough is itself influencing his mental state.***

Yussa Errenis: The Prodigal Most Interesting Man in Exandria returneth! Wensforth, play Freedom! 836 PD. You know, he should probably feel a little bit of shame, because he should know better, but also he probably does not. Anyway please enjoy the lines I had for Yussa while he was trapped in Cognouza that I did not ultimately use:

aha no don’t get your consciousness sucked into an ancient city you’re so sexy

Here am I floating in an ancient and terrible world-devouring city/far out in the planes/Threshold crests are blue and there’s nothing I can do

Making bad choices and joining the voices it’s...YUSSA ERRENIS

Conclusion: I'm going to say 6/10 but rapidly decreasing. Also Wensforth has had several days to clean the tower...maybe he just won't tell Yussa? He probably will though.

Allura Vyesoren: she's going to facepalm so long that Kima starts timing it, isn't she. She's going to get a series of messages like "hey so the Mighty Nein seem to be doing well! they freed me from the city which sucked me in like some spicy ramen when I did an astral projection...also something happened in my tower?" She's going to just stare out the window for a long moment. She is going to ask herself, much as I have many a time, what the fuck is in the water in Wildemount.

Conclusion: 3/10. Hey, at least she got some news on the Mighty Nein and the city!

Known Gem Wizard Hotsauce Lutefisk: consider: after over 35 years, give or take, in your own perception of time, trapped in a gem, you finally come across some people. Consider that one of them apparently can't resist a big shiny wizard trap. Now consider that this guy went into your +1 Demiplane of Wizard Murdering AND got his mind fully schlorped by Aeorians and yet you are still, inconceivably, stuck in this fucking gem. This is where he draws the line? At a teensy little bodily possession? What the fuck dude.

Conclusion: I'm pretty sure he's already a few large handfuls of iron filings short of a component pouch (which is to say, full up on the batshit) already but this cannot be helping.

*this will be the first but probably not the last cosmic horror and/or math joke because I actually forgot to make cat jokes last night, so thoroughly did the Nein demolish Cree. Speaking of Cree's fate...call that a Furrier Transform.

**high fantasy is a complicated distinction and the wikipedia page includes Discworld which does not seem right to me; it also includes the Belgariad, a series for which I have great fondness having inhaled the first three books while sick in bed as a fourteen year old and having reread several times, but which is explicitly written by a guy who was like what if I made something as formulaic as possible but also literally everyone is either super sarcastic or a huge moron but anyway imo High Fantasy is actually frequently fucking hilarious and a sign of the skill of the creator(s) is whether it's hilarious by accident or on purpose.

***something something Heisenberg uncertainty principle. I had a joke here but it got very convoluted and that is actually not a pun although if you understand why it could be a pun, good work.

[elentiyawhitethorn]

When Passion Rules the Game | Part Six

CW: NSFW, language

Part Five//Part Seven//Masterlist//2634 words

Aelin chuckled. “I hate you.”

Rowan grinned, playfully squeezing her ass. “I hate you more.”

“I can’t even wrap my mind around it, though. You like the Wendlyn Eagles. It’s just incomprehensible.”

Rowan smirked. “You’re far too dramatic for your own good.”

“Someone has to be. The rest of the world is filled with some boring ass people, I tell you, Rowan.”

He laughed. “Having met with Chaol Westfall, I can agree with you there.”

A snort that was far from womanly left Aelin’s mouth. “I still can’t believe you had to work on that project with him all day. I felt so bad.”

“You didn’t,” Rowan protested. “You were laughing every time I looked at you.”

“I can’t deny that.”

They both laughed. But the humor slowly dissolved as Rowan trailed his hand along Aelin’s side. The light touch turned greedy as Aelin leaned into him, aching for a rougher touch.

His hand reached for her breast and squeezed. Aelin scooted closer and reached her hand down below the sheets.

Rowan had her hand in his grasp in an instant. “Be patient, sweetheart.”

“I wish you’d stop saying that,” Aelin muttered.

Rowan smirked. “But you need to learn it.”

“Training me to be a good girl for you, hmm?” Aelin scooted closer, the legs that had been casually intertwined now tangled against each other heatedly. “But don’t you want me to make you feel good?” She gave her best puppy dog eyes.

Rowan leaned in and nipped her lower lip. “If you ask nicely.”

“Please let me touch you,” Aelin rasped, fluttering her eyelashes.

Rowan gave her throat a quick squeeze, Aelin letting out a noise of content as he choked her. Then he let go off her entirely, and Aelin moved her hand farther under the sheet.

Rowan’s cock was half-hard when Aelin wrapped her slender fingers around it. He squeezed his eyes shut as Aelin started pumping her hand. She was thoroughly enjoying the small grunt that left his lips as he tried to hold back a groan.

Rowan thrust his hips into Aelin’s hand. She trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along his neck as she pumped her hand. His cock hardened in her grip, and Aelin felt heat start to build between her legs.

Just when Aelin twisted her wrist and drew a growl out Rowan, he stopped her by flipping their bodies, pinning Aelin underneath him. He didn’t enjoy being the one squirming at someone else’s touch.

“Rowan,” she pleaded. He moved her arms, pinning her wrists over her head with one hand, and brought the other down between her legs. But Rowan only parted her folds with a finger, stroking gently. Aelin bucked her hips, but he only withdrew his hand.

“Please,” she whined. “Please, please, please.”

Rowan chuckled against her skin, licking a stripe up her neck and readjusting his hips so that Aelin was even more trapped under his body.

He slipped his finger inside her entrance, then pulled it back out immediately. “Beg me. Beg me to fuck you.” He roughly fingered her clit, then pulled his hand away entirely.

Aelin complied. Please was the only word in her vocabulary as she whimpered for Rowan to make her feel good. He finger-fucked her for a few minutes before he decided she was behaving well enough to come. Rowan pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing circles around the sensitive bud of flesh. It didn’t take much for Aelin to be overcome by a massive wave of pleasure.

And when he fucked her, when he flicked her clit as he slammed into her, she came, not even close to satisfied. He didn’t stop moving not just until he came as well, but until she had a third orgasm. When he finally let up, Aelin dropped into a deep slumber, exhausted from his attentions.

—

They were back in the bar. Aelin was talking to a man, a man with silver hair and pine-green eyes. She didn’t know his name, but she wanted to.

“I’m new in town,” he said to her, but Aelin wasn’t concerned with the hazy lust clouding his eyes or the way his gaze dropped to her cleavage. She was thinking about how nice he was, how smart and kind and funny. She didn’t want to drag him in the bathroom, she wanted to tell him that she lo—

An obnoxious beeping filled the room, filled Aelin’s head, turned the man into a blur. Aelin snapped awake, scrambling into a sitting position. Her alarm was going off.

She glanced over at Rowan, drowsily rubbing his eyes beside her, still lying down. “You okay, baby?”

Aelin let out a long exhale, trying to recall what her dream had been about. Rowan, maybe?

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer, assessing the sincerity of her statement, then nodded and said, “We should get up. Work’s in an hour.”

Aelin steadied her breathing—what had her dream been?—and expressed her agreement. They climbed out of bed and headed around the house: eating, making coffee, brushing teeth, showering. It had been three months since they’d become friends with benefits, and they had toothbrushes and extra clothing at each other’s homes. It made things much more convenient, not having to wait until the weekend to hook up.

Aelin headed out a few minutes before Rowan, both because arriving at the same time could be suspicious if anyone noticed, and because she had no reason to wait for him. She called a farewell, knowing he had a key to lock her door with. Again, for convenience purposes.

Despite that and the fact that they cuddled often after sex, naked and talking about football teams, their relationship really wasn’t abnormal. They had just become good friends.

Aedion headed into her office only moments after Aelin herself arrived. He looked at her, frowned, and said, “You have a hickey.”

Aelin refused to blush, cursing herself for not even bothering to look in the mirror other than for a quick hair brush and some light lipstick. She merely leaned back in her chair, threaded her fingers in front of her on the desk, and said, “We have an issue with the camera in the main elevator.”

Aedion sighed and took a seat. “We’ll have it fixed by lunchtime. Still playing with your boy toy?”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself, Aedion.”

He snorted. “Me? You’re the one—”

“We are not having this conversation again,” Aelin interrupted. “Especially not here. Go fix the camera.” She tended to be relatively kind to her employees, and merely icy to the ones who pissed her off, but having grown up with Aedion, she tended to have a shorter temper when he was around.

A huff was all she got in reply before Aedion stood. He left, shutting the door gently—they had a silent agreement not to let their petty arguments disturb anyone else—and leaving Aelin alone. She pulled out her phone and swiped to the camera app, then took a look at her neck.

There was a dark bruise on the side, and Aelin breathed a sigh of relief. That would be easy to cover with her hair, unable to do anything less temporary during work. She pulled her blonde locks over that side and made a mental note to keep them there. Good thing she hadn’t passed many people on the way in.

Then she thought back to what had went down when Aedion had first walked in on her and Rowan, oh so long ago.

—

“What the fuck are you doing, Aelin?”

Aelin tensed. This wasn’t going to be fun.

She glanced over at Rowan, who looked part defensive and part confused. He probably didn’t realize Aedion was her cousin, though he might recognize him vaguely from work.

“You can go, Rowan. I’ll take care of this.”

He hesitated, looking back and forth between the pair. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I can handle him.”

Aedion snorted at that, but Aelin didn’t dignify him with a glance.

“Okay, but I…” Rowan trailed off.

Right. Aelin was still wearing his shirt.

“Um”—Aelin sent Aedion a smile—“We’ll be right back.” He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and he flashed a saccharine grin.

Mentally dying from embarrassment, Aelin grabbed Rowan’s wrist and dragged him down the hallway. Not bothering to say anything to him, she yanked off his shirt, tossed it to him, and opened her drawer.

“So that was… a friend?”

Aelin yanked on some underwear and sweats. She looked in a different drawer for a t-shirt. “My cousin. Aedion. He works security.”

“Ah.” What was different about Rowan’s tone after she said that? What was he thinking?

Aelin turned back around, fully dressed now. Rowan’s gaze was fixed on the wall, rather than watching her as she dressed. Apparently all desire had disappeared, replaced by awkwardness.

“He won’t tell anyone.” Rowan’s eyes snapped to Aelin. “He’s very protective of me, but as annoyed as he’ll undoubtedly be, he won’t say anything.”

Rowan nodded. “Good.”

They didn’t say anything more. Aelin nodded. Rowan nodded, too.

“Well,” Aelin said finally. “See you at work on Monday.”

Rowan laughed lightly. “Yeah, see you.”

They left the bedroom and Rowan walked ahead of Aelin to the door. He gave a tight nod to Aedion, who didn’t return the gesture. Aelin sighed.

Once Rowan was out the door, Aelin smiled brightly. “Take a seat.”

“I’m good here.”

She ignored his tone and plumped onto the couch. “Want anything to eat?”

“What are you doing?”

“That’s none of your business, Aed.”

He frowned. “He works for you.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Aelin snapped.

Aedion pushed off the wall and stalked forward, dropping on the couch next to her. “You’re his boss. He’s probably just trying to get a promotion.”

A scowl crossed Aelin’s features. “You don’t even have any idea what this is,” she hissed.

“Then enlighten me, please.” Aedion’s growing temper matched her own. “Do you love him?”

Aelin scoffed. “Of course not. I just met the man a few weeks ago. Besides, that would be inappropriate.”

“That would be inappropriate,” Aedion repeated incredulously. “And this fucking isn’t?”

She huffed. “Rowan is well aware that this won’t be affecting his career at all, positively or negatively. It stays out of work, okay? There’s no reason to be pestering me about it.”

“It’s wrong, Aelin.”

“It is gods-damn not,” she snapped. “I am an adult, and he is an adult, and if we want to fuck, we will fuck. There’s your laptop. Take it and leave.”

Aedion did no such thing. “You know I only care about you.”

“If you care about me, you will mind your own business.”

Aedion sighed and stood up. “I’ll talk you on Monday. Lunch, remember?”

Aelin wanted to yell at him, her stubborn demeanor making it difficult to lose her anger, but if he was taking the steps to end this argument, she could do the same. “Fine. See you Monday.” Her voice was only slightly less sharp, but the words were enough. Aedion smiled in acknowledgment and left.

—

So much had changed since then, but Aedion’s attitude toward the pair’s out-of-work activities was not one of them. He glared at Rowan whenever they were in the same room, trying to find something to fault him for, but there never was anything. During their time in the office, Rowan remained respectful and kind, exactly as she’d requested of him all those days ago. He truly was a good man.

Drawing her thoughts away from Rowan, Aelin reached for a pen and got to work.

It was an hour later that Rowan joined her, starting on their major workload for the planning of their newest fundraising activity, as well as the arduous task of budgeting. Having such an involved roll in many of Aelin’s largest tasks, she had a small table designated for him against the wall, if ever they needed more space. Other thank that, he just used the opposite side of Aelin’s own desk.

Neither of them mentioned this morning, as was usual.

It may have been Aelin’s overactive imagination, but Rowan seemed distant today. Distracted about something or other. He brushed her off when Aelin asked if he was okay, and she let him have some space after that.

By the time the end of the workday rolled around, Aelin was exhausted. It was Friday, which meant she’d just spent the past five days pouring her sweat and blood into each project and task. She did work on the weekends, but the little loads she did at home could hardly compare to the stress of the week.

Aelin always worked later than everybody else; she wanted to get as much done as she could, and she made sure her workers, if not herself, had good hours. It was nearly seven-thirty when she filed away the last document.

When she came out of her office to find an empty floor, vacated entirely by Elide and all of the other staff, she was surprised. She wasn’t surprised that all of her workers were gone. That was entirely expected. She was surprised that Rowan was gone.

Not that he was supposed to be here; even though he worked a bit later some days, he usually left before her. But sometimes he waited up for her, in case she was in the mood. Well aware of the fact that they had fucked last night and they didn’t do it every day or anything, Aelin mentally shook herself for being concerned about Rowan’s absence. Still, some of the uneasiness remained.

Rowan had a pretty good position in the company, and as such, he had his own, albeit small, office. Aelin peered in just to be sure he was gone. Only a janitor, Arobynn, was in the office, and she waved at him. He gruffly nodded.

Trying not to reprimand herself out loud and look like a lunatic in front of the janitor, Aelin headed to the elevator. She was bothered that she was so caught up in Rowan that him not being there, even when it was entirely expected, made her lonely. It was just the sex she missed, of course.

Aelin impatiently tapped her pen against the handrail the whole elevator ride down, and when the doors finally opened, she hurried to her car, feeling she needed a nap. And maybe a whiskey.

—

The weekend passed in a blur. Aelin texted Rowan once, but he hadn’t responded. She hadn’t pestered him after that, knowing full well that he was allowed to have a life and she didn’t want to be desperate and annoy him into coming over. But she couldn’t deny the rapidly growing kernel of excitement resting in the pit of her stomach as Aelin headed to work on Monday.

“Hello, Elide,” Aelin called merrily, waving as she passed her.

Elide just sent a bemused smile to her friend.

Aelin marched toward her office, peering through the windows to find… a man that was not Rowan. Backpedaling because Aelin didn’t want to meet a client unprepared, she stepped away before he could see her. Then she made her way back to Elide.

“Who is that in my office?”

Elide frowned. “I sent you an email about it last night.”

“Last night? The last work I did was yesterday afternoon.”

Elide sighed, as if Aelin should have been checking her email all weekend long. She always had such high expectations. “That’s Nox Owens, the replacement.”

“Replacement for whom?” Aelin asked warily.

Elide blinked. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Who didn’t tell me what?” Aelin crossed her arms.

“We had to find a new coordinations director over the weekend. Mr. Whitethorn tendered his immediate resignation last Friday.”

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@autumnbabylon

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@nehemikkele

@pagemasters

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thenerdandfandoms

@theysayitscrazy

@yesdreamblog

[bloodied-teardrops]

@rosesinbloom7love

Hi there bloody! I hope you're doing well. I found your blog through @softy'sworks and i've read a few of your asks, but this the first time i've asked something on here! How would Alpha dorm leaders react to a feisty omega darling that knows how to fight back?

Hello, hello! A lot of people probably find me through softy since I’m not super active here.

---

Riddle Rosehearts

"Stop fighting me!”

He hates it so much. Even after his overblot, he still hates it. Riddle likes things going the way he expects so having an omega fight him, an alpha, gets on his nerves so much. It doesn’t fit into his view of the world. It doesn’t fit in the tolerable range for him either.

Riddle will fight with such an omega the whole time. See, if he wasn’t a yandere and could shift his attention to another omega, one who fits his worldview, he would, but this is a yandere Riddle. He favors physical and magical punishments, frequently using his unique magic to reduce you to a powerless person. One left with only their physical strength which doesn’t mean much if they can’t touch him since he still has his magic.

Something is going to break.

Leona Kingscholar

"Let’s go again.”

Leona enjoys a good fight. The rush of adrenaline, his heart racing, his mind empty except for what he’s going to do next to win, and he can win. He enjoys it. In fact, I would go as far as to say he encourages you to fight him. It’s more fun that way. But not when he wants to take a nap.

Though, a fight would be a good way to make sure he takes a nice long nap. Waking up with you still in his arms? Not bad at all. He doesn’t care if the injuries he caused scar. It’s another mark of his. Another sign of ownership. One you can’t get rid of so easily.

But you know what scars really nicely? Flesh that has to grow back after being reduced to sand.

Azul Ashengrotto

“You should have read the contract more thoroughly, darling.”

The first thing he does after the first fight his desired omega puts up is rope them into a contract. Azul isn’t dumb. He’ll start small. Just little things you can succeed at. To build up your confidence that you can accomplish whatever Azul wants in exchange for something you want. He’s patient, he’ll wait until you stop reading the terms and conditions, assuming it’s the same as always.

He sends the Leech twins to sabotage you. He’ll send whoever he can think of to sabotage you. After all, a few things given away practically for free mean very little if it ensures you’re trapped in his arms without the ability to fight back thanks to the contract you signed.

Azul will take away your will as well if you try to resist him. There are just so many potions he’s learned to make.

Kalim Al-Asim

“H-Hey! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

The infuriating thing about Kalim is that he refuses to fight even when his instincts want him to pin you down and bite. The worst he’ll do is drench you when you're upset, which is usually welcomed considering how hot his dorm’s environment can get, or if it’s further down the line, how hot his home can get.

Kalim offers presents to try pacifying you even if he knows they won’t work. They never have because he never offers the one thing that will make you happy. But you'll have everything and more you want for your nest.

For all his kindness, Kalim, at his core, is incredibly selfish when it concerns the people he likes.

Vil Schonheit

“Behave... unless you want me to give you something again.”

Vil... is kind of infuriating. Between his desire to maintain his image and the demands he piles on you to help with that, even a more submissive omega would get annoyed.

It doesn't help that he's fairly strong. Overpowering physically and magically whenever you put up a fight. Or using some other method to make you cooperate with him. He won't hesitate to brew potions if you refuse to tire while he's growing wary of the constant struggles with you.

Crewel-sensei likes puppies, but Vil's always preferred dolls. It's only natural that's how his omega ends up, however willing.

Idia Shroud

"No! Don't throw that!"

He doesn't want to fight. He tries to appease you to make you not want to fight him either. He'll use Ortho as well to distract you. The only reason he might get physical is if you break any of his projects or merch.

Idia will take advantage of his scent, even if it makes your mouth twist as you pick up his scent and your instincts try to get you to comfort him by submitting. Better for you to stomp off in irritation than start throwing stuff or try laying your hands on him.

If you somehow hurt Ortho... a shock collar isn't outside of his ability to make.

Malleus Draconia

"And what do I have to do to make you submit?"

Like some of the other dorm leaders, he tries to pacify you if you try to put up a physical fight. Malleus brushes it off as a human thing for an omega to fight an interested alpha. It makes sense in a way.

After all, who would want a partner that couldn't handle some of the worst sides of a person? But he's going to tire of it eventually and just pin you down by force, magic at his finger tips to help if you're more difficult than he expected.

Maybe you'll hate him, but you'll be his and then he'll have plenty of time to make you love him.

[let-them-read-fics]

Empress of the Heart (Pt. 2)

Synopsis / Request: “Reader is an actress, and she meets Jennie at an event. They have a one night stand afterward, and months later they meet again.”

Pairing: Jennie x Fem!Actress!Reader

Warnings / Misc: Smut (only in Pt. 1), Angst, Fluff

Here’s the second half of the request for you lovely peeps! Enjoy :)

Part 1

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

◇◇◇◇◇

"Y/N, more people are arriving and management wants us to greet them. Something about photo ops." Jackson, your fellow lead, says as he pokes his head into your dressing room. His entrance intruded on your thoughts of the beautiful brunette that effectively stole your heart away within a night, leaving you completely at her mercy despite being worlds away.  

"Alright, just give me a second." He nods and goes to stand outside your door -- you're expected to be seen together for a good portion of the night. Thankfully, though, Jackson is a good guy; he cares a lot about you, always doing everything in his power to keep you happy. The feeling is mutual; it's nice to have someone in your corner in an industry as unforgiving as this one. 

"Ready?" You ask, opening the door after you've checked yourself in the mirror and smoothed down any unruly hairs or clothing. Looking presentable is a must tonight -- you can't appear as wistful as you've been feeling lately. 

"Sure am." His answer is a bit unnecessary, seeing as how you asked a rhetorical question, but you send him a smile nonetheless. He offers you an arm, and soon the two of you are walking back towards the entrance of the building. 

--------

Waves of flashing cameras greet you for the second time tonight, now capturing you in your full glammed-out look. The first time had been a few hours ago when your team arrived to begin setting up and get all of you ready. 

The entire cast now stands stretched out in front of the large screen that will air the movie later, your arms around each other as you smile for the cameras. Promotional pictures shine behind you on the screen, serving as a perfect backdrop as they cycle through their predetermined slideshow.

Eventually, you all disperse to greet some guests. 

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Choi. It's wonderful seeing you again." 

"I hope you enjoy our performances, Mrs. Lee. Your support has meant the world to us." 

"Ah, Jeong! How've you been?" 

Countless faces pass by as you work hard to greet everyone, knowing full well your company will be upset if you slack off now. It's everyone's big night, so they obviously can't have their leading lady stopping for even a minute. 

You're almost ready to run to the restroom in order to have a moment to yourself, free of prying eyes and judgemental stares; but what you hear next sends a chill down your spine, an all too familiar ache in your chest. 

It's Jennie. She's laughing that wonderful laugh of hers, taking you back in time to when you first heard it. Her members must've said something really hilarious, because all of them are doubled over, clutching their stomachs with laughter. 

"Hey again," Jackson greets, and for a second you almost want to tell him to leave you alone. You don't, though, knowing you have no right to pull something like that. 

"YG's girl group just got here. Do you want to say hello?" Of course you do. You want to run into Jennie's arms and spin her around, reveling in the way her arms would surely wrap around you in that warm embrace that's so uniquely hers. You want to tell her a stupid joke to make her laugh again, like she had just a few moments ago. You want to talk to her. 

But you don't.

"No, not right now. I'm going to visit with my family, if that's alright with you." 

"Sure, sure." He says considerately, unwrapping his arm from you. You press a friendly kiss to his cheek as a thank you, letting it serve as a goodbye as well. 

"Eomma!" You shout, squeezing through the crowd when you spot her at one of the banquet tables lining the front of the room. The rest of the space is filled with rows of chairs, already set out for when the movie premieres. 

"Ah, baby girl. We're so proud of you." She says, holding you in a tight embrace as tears spill from her eyes. Her arms bring you comfort like no other, and you're beyond grateful to have her here tonight. Some of your friends stand behind her, too, waiting for their turn to say hello. 

Jennie watches you interact with them from across the room, and she feels a pang of sadness run through her. She's not naive to how these things work: your other cast mates had come over to greet her and girls, snapping pictures and even starting meaningful conversations in some cases -- all of that meaning you had been given the opportunity to do the same, but turned it down. Do you not want to see her? Maybe she had misjudged your night together. You are an actress, after all. 

She shakes her head, physically willing the thoughts to go away as she turns her focus to whatever new person was talking to them now. She continues stealing glances in your direction, finding you looking somewhere else every time. She'd give just about anything to have you look at her, if only for a moment. Just a glance, she thinks to herself, praying the universe hears her pleas. They seem to fall on deaf ears, though, because before she knows it the MC is calling all of you onto stage and the guests are directed to their seats. 

"Let's welcome the cast of Empress of the Heart!" The MC says cheerily, tucking his notecard underneath his arm in order to clap along with the audience. "They've spent months working hard for this project, travelling to filming locations in different countries, learning new languages, and facing their fears. We hope all of you thoroughly enjoy their performances. Now, I'll hand it over to our leads." 

You and Jackson bow towards the audience, waving at them politely as they applaud you again. He looks at you, a silent question of if you want to speak first, and you nod. Taking the mic from him, you say, "Firstly, I'd like to thank our incredible cast and crew. They played just as important a role in this movie as Jackson and I, and we're endlessly grateful for their hard work." More cheers ring out at your kind hearted show of appreciation, and you speak up again once they've died down. 

"These past few months have been some of the best of my life, and I owe that to people like you, and my fans. Thank you for taking a chance on me and supporting me. From the bottom of my heart, thank you." You say sincerely, looking into the camera that's recording all of this for exclusive content. When the movie drops for the public in a couple weeks, they'll be able to buy this tape as well and see highlights from the premiere. The thought of your fans watching it from the comfort of their own homes, yelling praises at their screens, makes you smile. 

Jackson takes over now, smoothly transitioning into his own mini speech of thanks. You stop your eyes from meeting the one pair that they so desperately want to, always keeping them trained on other parts of the crowd. If you allow your resolve to crumble, you'll get lost in her all over again and potentially screw up one of the biggest nights of your life. You can't take a risk like that. 

You laugh at something Jackson says, some joke about how you had to face your fear of heights for a scene in the movie, and Jennie takes a deep breath. She's not exactly jealous, but yet that's precisely the feeling that creeps its way into her chest. She knows that you're avoiding her for some reason, but she has no idea why. Did she do something wrong? 

--------

Why, why, did they have to sit Blackpink in the row right behind you? It's karmic, the universe's way of pushing you back to each other, but you don't know how to feel about it all. You can feel her eyes boring into you as each new scene plays, silently begging for you to turn around and talk to her, even if it's impolite to do so in the middle of a movie.

You don't, though, fighting every fiber of your being to keep yourself from giving in. 

Despite the emotions that swirl within her that pay little mind to the number they're doing on her heart, she actually finds herself enjoying parts of the movie. It's bittersweet, seeing you up there, but you command the screen in a way that seems to steal all coherent thoughts from her brain. You're truly skilled, and she gets a kick out of watching you hide behind your hands in embarrassment when your co-stars offer whispered praises.

During one scene in particular, though, Jennie's eyes drop to the floor, her teeth clenched together tightly. Your character just saved Jackson's from certain doom, and the two of you are sharing a long-overdue kiss. The rest of the crowd lets out approving noises at this, but Jennie is comforted by her members' soft smiles and reassuring touches. You feel guilty, for some reason, knowing that anything you were a part of made Jennie so upset. It shouldn't matter, though -- I mean, it's not like you and Jackson are actually together -- but still, it hurts Jennie to see him kiss you and hold you in the ways she wants to. 

The rest of the night carries on much the same, but later on, once you get enough courage to look for Jennie, she's gone. The other girls are too, and a sinking feeling settles in your chest. Gone -- again -- just like all that time ago. Your reasons for staying away from her were legitimate, but they felt nothing of the sort as you glanced around the crowd again. 

The movie ended earlier, already getting good marks and reviews from the critics who came to view it, and now the "afterparty" of sorts was kicking in. You hadn't expected the girls to stay long after the movie, but you'd at least hoped to utter a word to them, if nothing else. A smile would've sufficed. 

Realizing she's really gone, you let out a sad sigh and make your way down the hall, towards the large doors that lead to the balcony. If anything can clear your mind right now, surely it's a chilly breeze. 

You lay an arm against the sturdy railing, leaning on it as you massage your neck. All of the stress you've been put under is showing in the form of painful knots, far too many to get rid of in one go. You sigh, letting your head lull forward and lay against your arm.

"And here I was thinking I wouldn't see you again."

At the utterance, you turn around to find her leaned up against the stone wall of the building with a playful smirk on her lips. She's back to her old self in an instant, but you can sense the undertones of nervousness in her voice. 

The darkness of the night that envelops you two makes her eyes look even more feline -- even more alluring -- and it takes everything in you not to lose your train of thought. 

"Jennie." Her name comes out as a pleased declaration more than anything else, a familiar flutter taking over your heart at the sight of her. It's a warm feeling in your chest, and you never want it to go away. 

You try not to focus on the sensual swaying of her hips or the teasing look in her eye as she pushes herself away from the wall to approach you. 

"I thought you left." You breathe out, remembering how sad you were earlier. 

"Without getting you alone first? How could I?" The implication behind her words gives you pause, causing a blush to begin forming on your cheeks. You curse yourself for being so easy.

"I've missed you like crazy," she confesses, allowing herself to be vulnerable again. Now in front of you, she brushes the back of her fingertips against your cheek as you look into her eyes. 

"I've missed you, too -- more, probably," you say, the declaration sounding like an embarrassed sigh as it leaves your lips. She smiles at that -- her genuine, gummy smile that you've missed so much -- and your heart flutters again. 

She debates on asking the question that sits on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be answered. "Why didn't you greet me before, at the party?" Her voice is small now, insecure, as she avoids your gaze and stills her movements. 

"I-..." you start, finding yourself at a loss for words. Should you tell her how you feel?

"I was afraid you'd throw me off my game. You're pretty distracting, you know?" You reply, nudging her shoulder playfully. A hint of a smile tugs at her cheeks, unsure if it should finish the job and turn into a big one. 

"I thought I did something wrong." She informs.

"Not at all. In fact, you did things a little too right, if you ask me. I can't stay away from you, Jennie." Her heart trips and stumbles over itself in its pursuit of gaining a steady rhythm again, thrown off course by your words. 

Growing brave, she suggests, "Go on a date with me, then. I wanna have more nights like that with you." She whispers that last part, ghosting her fingertips over your skin to awaken the memories. 

"I'd like that," you smile, leaning in to kiss her lips. It's soft and gentle, much like your first one, and your heart hammers in your chest. It seems to forget that you've done this before, choosing instead to subject you to the giddiness you felt that first time with her. 

She pulls back to rest her forehead against yours, settling her arms around your waist, saying, "I've wanted to do that all night." You smile for the millionth time because of her, happy with how things have turned out.

"Do it again, then." 

And she does. 

[wisehq]

Mission Debrief: Chapter Forty-two

...It's all coming together.

I'm just going to come outright and say it; I had no idea what to write for this review- not because there wasn't anything to discuss, but rather this chapter gave us so much that I didn't know what to focus on first. Chapter forty-two has single-handedly thrown open the doors to a hundred different theories, and believe me when I say that after a whole night of redbull and theorizing I couldn't come up with any clear answers (the folks over at the Strix discord group can attest to that).

So here's what we're gonna do; I'm not going to focus on the chapter itself.

It was cute. Cardshark Anya is hilariously awesome. Damian is a little shit (whom I adore), and the chapters where the kids can just be kids are- in my opinion- the best.

That's all I'm going to say on the matter. For the rest of this review, I want to go over all the facts we know so far about the story and setting. All of the things Endo has been slowly building up in the background and the pieces that we can stitch together from them, starting with this chapter. Two key things stuck out to me.

In the entirety of the story up till this point, this is the first time we have heard mention of a royal anything- and not only that, but this chef is a former royal chef. This of course implies that a) said chef was fired (not likely given that Eden wouldn't likely associate with someone who was disgraced like that) or retired, or b) that there is no royalty anymore. Ostania is a totalitarian state and the main power of the government- from what we've seen- lies with the ruling political party, i.e the National Unity Party, a.k.a Desmond's party. Such a political structure would have no room for royalty in a governing capacity, and therein begs the question; is there still a royal/noble class- albeit in a non-governing sense- or was it abolished sometime in the recent past?

Classical language is not proper speaking and diction like I had originally thought. Classical language is a specific term typically used to describe a dead language or dialect (think Latin, or Hebrew before it was revived). I find this particularly interesting because under no circumstance would a child as young as Anya know anything about a dead language unless- as Loid points out- she was exposed to it as a toddler. It would have had to have been when she was very young, as she herself doesn't realize she knows this information. This would mean she likely learned it from her birth family; Anya was old enough to remember the lab and scientists, meaning she became Subject 007 later on in life- otherwise she would have remembered knowing classical language.

These two concepts are incredibly important to keep in mind, both now and later on as the story progresses. We now know that a royal class plays a factor in the political game that Twilight and everyone else is playing, and we know that Anya knows information that she shouldn't know otherwise (even with her mind-reading powers). So where does that leave us?

Honestly, for the first time...I'm kind of stumped?

Let's look back at the story and see what else we can piece together- maybe there's something in there we can extrapolate for our purposes. Another clue to point us in the direction that Endo is seemingly funneling us towards.

From chapter forty-one

Franklin Perkins was a man who believed in making his country a better place to live. In his eyes and from what he saw, Ostania wasn't going in the right direction- but why? He blames his lack of money for his mother's death, and we see him hold resentment towards the government over socialistic policies. Wealth is something to be shared with others, not hoarded for ones self. That seems to be where Ostania's moral compass is pointing towards, but is that really the case?

From chapter 39

Mr. Green mentions that people have been fleeing to Westalis; from the way he says this it sounds like this is happening currently- not in the past- and people are going so far as to travel through a third country just to get to Westalis. Such a journey isn't without its perils, so anyone attempting to crossover from Ostania would likely be taking a huge risk in doing so. Not only that, but most of what we've seen in the story is Ostanians loathing Westalins...so what would compel people to do this in the first place?

From chapter three As Anya reads the minds of people gathered at a politcal rally near the start of the manga, we see their disgruntled thoughts behind her. There's multiple mentions of losing jobs and not having enough money- some people are even hungry. Most of these people blame Westalis for their troubles, though not the leader of the rally, ironically.

Also from chapter 3

We find out (and often forget) early on that there are multiple political parties in Ostania. Donovan leads the National Unity Party, whereas the political rally we see here is hosted by the Nationalist Party. The latter preaches peace with the west, but many of the people gathered reject this outright. This is important; the N.U.P is the most successful political party in Ostania, which means a majority of the country's citizens approve of their platform. If we're to assume the Nationalist Party's platform is to advocate for peace with Westalis, then we must also assume that the N.U.P stands for the opposite; direct aggression with the west.

From chapter 31 The Zacharis Dossier, though ultimately a bust, hinted at rumors that have permeated East and West since the start of the cold war. We know for a fact that human experiments did indeed take place in Ostania, so it also stands to reason that there is at least a kernel of truth to the claims of P.O.W (prisoner of war) massacres conducted by the west. It's a heinous crime, and also one that leads to another question; why would any country go through with it in the first place? In addition, piggy-backing off the former point;

From chapter 19 While Loid details Project Apple, he uses the word 'regime' to describe the former Ostanian government. The literal definition of a regime is a government, especially an authoritarian one (Oxfrod Dictionary). I won't highlight all the specifics of what is and isn't authoritarianism, but essentially the point I'm trying to make here is that the current Ostanian administration is still very much a regime. Donovan acts as the authoritarian ruler (or would-be ruler; we don't know if he's actively in charge or is looking to usurp power for himself) and continues on the legacy of the former government. We know for a fact that this is the case because Anya is only at most 6 years old, likely even younger. That would mean the experiments being run on her had to have been recent, which fits with the time frame that we established at the beginning of this rabbit hole- it also aligns with what we know about what Donovan has been doing on the back end of things. Those who have kept up with my reviews know what I'm talking about; gloom pharmaceuticals, the truth serum, OSO-R, etc. All of that, which then leads us to...

...right back where we started. So...what then? What can we conclude from all this? At least a few things;

Anya is tied to Desmond- either directly or indirectly.

Anya's past is also Ostania's past; she's familiar with a dead language that's no longer spoken, and there's definitely a reason why no one speaks it anymore.

Ostania is in a period of political and economic turmoil. This also comes on the heels of a (possible) former monarchy, and the struggle of a country willing to embrace authoritarianism so long as it means staying alive.

WISE and Westalis are not innocent in this game of chess with Ostania and the SSS, and more than likely have committed atrocities that may or may not be directly tied to Ostania and- possibly- Anya's past.

And...this is as far as I can go. I've hit a wall, as have other people I've talked to. We're still missing pieces to the puzzle. Endo will of course provide us with more clues and theory fodder as the weeks and months progress, but for now this is as far as I can go on my own. On the one hand I feel defeated because I can't come up with a meaningful explanation for everything and present it in a neat little bundle for you all to read, but on the other hand I'm thoroughly enjoying this. I'm more engaged with this manga and story than any other I've read before; I'm at the edge of my seat every week, and I'm sure most of you are, too. For now, I'll leave the review here. I find it fitting to leave it open ended, just as Endo did with Loid's self-imposed question. Hopefully, like him, we can find answers in the near future.

Also, BONUS...

...No fun panel with a snappy comment this time. Instead, I’m going to humbly ask for your help.

If you have any ideas about where you think the story is going, theories as to how everything fits together, or just really want to discuss the manga with other fans- please check out our forum and share with us. We’d love to hear what you all think; not only that, but a lot more heads makes theorizing both more productive and a whole lot more fun. Check it out if you have the time, or- if you don’t feel like clicking on any links- you can always leave a comment either on this post or send us an ask or message. Anytime, any reason, we’d love to talk SxF.

Again, thanks for reading, and we’ll see you all next chapter!