#the second copy turned out so nicely with that lesson in mind

[foxglove-press]

My second book with the imprint! Crest Control is special to me because I got a chance to witness this story's whole creation process, from the earliest concepts through to the posting of the final chapter on AO3. I love the story in particular for how it tackles trauma and recovery, and how that process is neither linear nor swift -- but it's not impossible, even if there are backslides in the process.

Given that this is a shorter story overall, making it a flat back bind was an easy choice. Because of the heavy focus on flowers throughout the narrative, I decided to go with a plant theme for the entire bind: the covers have visible leaves in the paper, and the front and end papers are different to show the arc of progress throughout the story. The text ornaments are also handmade, keeping with the plant theme and transitioning from thorny vines to budding branches to a blooming rose throughout the narrative arc.

I really love how this bind turned out, and I'm so happy I could get a copy to @cheeseandcake-from-ao3 -- this story is a wonderful achievement, and I'm honored that I could both witness its creation and make it into a book for the author to hold as proof of the amazing work they did. ���

Text Block

Title: Horrible Brush

Chapter Headings: Horrible Brush (Chapters 1-3), The Monster (Chapters 4-8), ediana (Chapters 9-12), and Ralgani (Epilogue, Gallery, Appendix)

Body Font: Baskerville Old Face

Front Matter and Appendix: Garamond

Center Ornaments: Modified from generic text decorations including thorny vines, budding branches, and a blooming rose

Sewing: Dark Green Irish Linen

Case

Cover Papers: Black Mango Leaf Tissue

End Papers: Red and Coral Flowers Chiyogami (Front) and White and Gold Flowers on Slate Lokta (Back)

Book Cloth: Jet Black Starched Linen Bookcloth

Headband: Green and White Cotton Check

Bookmark: Sprig Green and White Twill, 3/8"; Silver end crimp and Sterling Silver Lily charm

[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)

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

[thelov3lybookworm]

You Think I Wanted This (part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: Breakfast was never this tense

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: aight so i didnt know that Alic was supposed to be dead, and that Halden was the living brother, so now please pretend i never mentioned alic and that the brother had always been halden in this series 🥲 i will be going back to change the previous parts and editing alic to halden to prevent any confusions, but im sorry for and confusion now hehe

anyways, enjoy!

Breakfast was always a quiet and quick ordeal in the royal family.

The day after Y/n's wedding, it was also tense.

Her father seemed oblivious as he scraped up his eggs with his fork and chewed, his focus solely on the reports his second in charge had handed him the moment he sat down. He did not pay much mind to anything other than those papers, and Y/n was grateful for it as she drowned in the fury radiating off of her brothers and husband.

Directly opposite her sat Halden, glaring holes into his plate and occasionally sparing Xaden a glance filled with murderous intent.

Cam was no better from where he was stabbing his sausage with his knife as if it had committed a personal crime against him. His shoulders were almost touching his ears from how tensed they were, his jaw clenched as he kept his stare fixed on Xaden, warning in his eyes.

Y/n sighed lowly, looking at Xaden from the corner of her eyes. He looked... constipated, if she put it nicely.

Before she could formulate another thought, her father's chair scraped against the ground, and she shot up, along with her brothers, as was expected.

Xaden though, he had a death wish. He remained seated, even as the king turned to glare at him. It wasn't until Y/n tapped his arm that he followed suit, albeit very slowly.

The king's eyes were glazed in ice, steam practically coming out of his ears at the blatant disrespect, that too in front of so many guards.

"Y/n. Your husband needs to have some lessons in manners for the royal family, doesn't he?"

Y/n bowed her head.

"Yes, father."

"Make sure something like this doesn't happen again."

"Yes, father."

He left then, and Y/n finally let go of the breath she was holding.

"Fucking bastard." Y/n's head snapped up at Cam's use of the words, her jaw hanging open.

Royal children did not curse. That was an unspoken rule in the family.

Cam cursing would have been punishable had their father heard.

Y/n had no time to do anything but watch as Cam rounded the long table, coming face to face with Xaden as he sneered.

"You will learn, Riorson, because if my father loses his temper on my sister, you will be the one to suffer. You hear that?"

Xaden said nothing, and Y/n turned her body so she could jump in if Cam decided Xaden was not worth warnings and words. Halden had the audacity to sit back down and continue eating, amusement shining in his eyes as he witnessed the scene in front of him.

Y/n shot him a look of betrayal, and all he did was shrug.

"Back off, Aaric." Y/n's eyes shot back to the two men, still going at it.

Cam didn't move for a long moment, the tension in the room becoming suffocating.

But then a muscle ticked in Xaden's jaw, and Cam finally stepped away, smirking.

Xaden stalked away, bumping his shoulder into Cam's, who chuckled. Like this was the most amusing thing in the world.

As Y/n remained standing, watching Xaden walk out the doors, Cam took the seat next to Y/n, seemingly unfazed by Y/n's glare.

"Halden, pass me some juice. I need to refresh my energy."

Y/n sighed, settling down onto her chair.

"You two need to calm down. He is pissed as it is. You are not helping."

They seemed to have gone deaf, for they did not respond or even pretend to have heard her.

"Aaric?"

Cam choked on his drink.

"Um, yeah. I got myself a new name so no one would recognise me in the quadrant."

Halden snorted, shaking his head. "And you couldn't find any better name? You do love to copy everything about Alic, don't you?"

"Die."

Y/n rubbed her brows, deciding to leave the two fools that were her brothers to their bickering and to go find Xaden to see if he was in the mood to bring down the castle. She didn't know much about him yet, but if she knew anything about men, it was that they had overinflated, fragile egos. And Xaden's ego was surely hurt by what happened, and it would be better to calm him down before he lost whatever he had in that skull.

She didn't want anymore drama than she already had to handle, and add to that his upset... butt.

No, she was quite fine with how things were already going. She didn't need them becoming worse.

That, and she wasn't as heartless as she pretended to be. She did care about keeping everyone happy, even when she was unwilling to.

So that meant checking up on her ugly husband, even if she just wished for him to return and stew with his dragon.

Y/n wished she had just sat her backside down and listened to her brothers bicker, because the alternative was not really something she wished to have seen.

There, in the hallway leading up to her own chambers, empty of guards, stood Xaden.

And Violet Sorrengail.

Y/n simply blinked, taking in the sight she had unfortunately stumbled upon.

Interesting. That was the only way she could describe the scene.

The two of them were standing next to the two opposite walls, only a few feet between them, though they seemed to wish to erase the distance, with the way Violet was leaning forward, desperation seeping from every pore of her being.

Xaden looked like a huge hand had slapped him onto the wall like a ball of dough, his head resting back, his eyes closed as Violet screamed at him.

"Are you even listening to me Xaden?"

"Violence, please. Don't make it harder than it already is."

"Fine. I'll leave you alone."

Y/n's eyebrows rose.

"Vi-"

"Trouble in paradise?"

Both their heads snapped to Y/n as she strode towards her room from right between them, fixing her tiara.

"No. We were just talking about how we'll manage our schedules because of our bonded dragons."

Y/n hummed, glancing once at Xaden with one brow raised. "Just make sure you discuss about your schedules in private, because being found screaming in the palace hallways is the easiest way to bring yourself in the line of the king's attention. You don't want to be found talking, especially when our marriage is based on your separation."

She turned to give Violet a look, who turned away, holding her head.

Then Y/n continued on, towards her chambers where her academic work was still pending.

That was all that mattered, really. Her studies.

That was the only way she could stop thinking about anything, really. It brought her peace and calm, even if she hadn't wanted to be a healer.

The day was only starting, and she already had to try to drown herself in studies to keep her headache at bay.

How fun.

Fourth Wing Taglist: @byyalady @gardenofrunar

Xaden Taglist: @sidrapotter @anniiittttaa @pirana10 @harrystylesfan2686 @artists-ally @riddlesb1tch @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @bubybubsters

YTIWT Taglist: @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @wallacewillow0773638

[jimblejamblewritings]

The Dragon Heir | part 1.

Summary: What happens when King Viserys' only current heir is a choice between his twin daughters? The realm will not accept a woman but you have no care for what the realm thinks it won't accept.

Warnings: it's the game of thrones realm, and obviously incest comes with the Targaryen package but it still deserves a second warning

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x black!reader, Daemon Targaryen x targaryen!reader

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: It is a reader but you have a name to fit in with the world.

“As the first century of the Targaryen dynasty came to a close, the health of the Old King, Jaehaerys, was failing. In those days, House Targaryen stood at the height of its strength with ten adult dragons under its yoke. No power could stand against it. King Jaehaerys reigned over nearly sixty years of peace and prosperity.” 

You rolled your eyes at the history lesson that you had already heard a thousand times before. Biting your tongue, you looked over at your sister, Rhaenyra, and made a face. She tried her hardest not to laugh. The two of you faced your cousin once again to finish the dreadfully boring lesson. 

“But tragedy claimed both of Jaeherys’ sons, leaving his succession in doubt. So, in the year one hundred and one, the Old King called the Great Council to choose an heir. Over a thousand lords made the journey to Harrenhal. Fourteen succession claims were heard but only two were considered. Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, the King’s eldest descendant, and her younger cousin. Prince Viserys Targaryen, the King’s eldest male descendant.” 

“Yes, yes,” Rhaenyra said as she began to stand up. She wanted to leave and ride her dragon. “And in the end they picked our father over you, Princess Rhaenys. We have heard this story plenty times before. What does it matter?” 

“It matters because history is going to repeat itself.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Mother is having a son. The entire castle is sure of it. Rhaenyra and I have always known where we stand. There is no point in this.” 

“Do you think he’ll look like you, Laelara?” Rhaenyra asked as she put on her other riding glove. 

Despite being twins, you and Rhaenyra looked nothing alike. Your mother came from a family like the Velaryons, tan and brown and black skin crowned in white hair. Rhaenyra looked exactly like your father while you were a carbon copy image of your mother. 

You shrugged at your sister’s question. “The only thing’s for certain is his white hair. Rhaenyra, come back on time for dinner. And don’t go out this Friday, you know there’s a festival happening. And visit mother before anything else.” 

Your sister nodded before walking away. You decided to go back to your chambers and change. While Rhaenyra was the wild one, you were more calm. You didn’t even have a dragon. You sat at your father’s council meetings and walked through the streets of King’s Landing and read in the Godswoods. Quiet was how you had always been. 

You left the courtyard after seeing Rhaenyra off on her flight. There might have been nice weather but everyone was running around preparing for the festivities. Being outside with all that noise wasn’t quite ideal. You decided to be inside for the day.

Your father wouldn’t mind you using his throne room as refuge. He never cared if you sat on the Iron Throne and used the swords as a bookstand for your reading as long as you cleaned up before he held court. But you didn’t want to read today. Perhaps some sewing would be nice. 

You were surprised to find the throne room occupied. Your uncle barely turned his head, nodding slightly when he saw you. You eyed him up and down. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Where’s your sister and Lady Alicent. Aren’t you three joined at the hip?” 

“One has gone riding and the other has duties. What are you doing here?” 

“Hello, Laelara.” 

“Hello, Daemon. What a—”

“Yes, what am I doing here, please keep asking that question. I was admiring the chair. It could be mine one day.” 

“Father seems to be sure it’s a boy.” 

“Ah but we won’t know until the child comes.” 

“Do you even want the chair?” you asked him in High Valyrian. “You haven't come to court in ages.” 

(Dēmalion jaelā? Hen sȳndrāzmā court imastō daor.)

"Well, court is boring. I heard your father is holding a festival in my honor."

(Sȳrī court tegenkor issa. Kepa aōha yno syt kōttion pradilas, ryptan.)

"The festival is for his heir."

(Kōttion dāranno syt issa.)

“Who we don’t know is a boy yet, correct?” Daemon chuckled when you bit your tongue because he was right. “You should tell me that boy or not, your mother still has many chances to produce an heir.” 

“Well, it’s not the same if I say it now.” 

Daemon came down from the chair. “Give it a year or two, you’ll be quicker at the mouth. Maybe even surpass my sharpness. Maybe. I brought you and your sister something.” 

He held up two necklaces. They held the same design, metal flowers with a jewel in the middle. The jewels were different. One in red and the other in yellow. You reached for the yellow one, admiring it. 

“Do you know what they’re made out of?” 

“Valyrian steel. Like Dark Sister,” you referenced Daemon’s sword. 

He lifted the necklaces just out of reach. “Turn around.” 

You let Daemon put the yellow necklace on you, handing you the other one to give to Rhaenyra when she came back. He seemed proud to give you the jewelry, claiming now you and your sister had a piece of ancestry as well. The necklace was the first bit of Valyrian steel you ever owned. Daemon made a promise — one you didn’t quite believe — to not cause any trouble before the festival. 

The dress you picked was not quite right for a festival. You realized that as you picked at the long sleeves while watching your uncle in his jousting tournament. You should have picked something with short sleeves. At least your sister and your friend seemed to be enjoying themselves. Rhaenyra and Alicent both gave Daemon a wish of luck for his next match. You rolled your eyes, sinking into your seat.

Everything but the match brought you interest. If only your mother was here. But it was her due day, part of the reason the festivities were even happening. She was giving birth to your newest sibling and hopefully heir. Your parents had tried too many times to have a child. Every single one being stillborn or dying quickly. It was time for a miracle. Your attention was easily stolen by other things, including the Grand Maester talking to your father. 

Your eyes squinted in curiosity as the two men walked away. A happy conclusion entered your mind. There was no way your father was going to have precious alone time with your new baby brother. You wouldn’t let him know peace if he hogged your sibling all to himself. Besides, someone had to take care of the heir until he was of age. Carefully, you trailed behind Viserys and the Grand Maester. Viserys would surely send you back to the festival if he caught you. 

Even though you couldn’t be inside the room, you eavesdropped at the door once the two men had gone inside. Your face scrunched up. Childbirth sounded painful. You couldn’t believe your mother had done it five times before. You thought as you continued to listen in. It was a secret blessing to be the princess.

With your brother as the one expected to perform duty, you were free. Free to marry for love which you told your mother about many times. Both she and Viserys had pride in your ideas of marrying for love and staying at the Keep to advise your brother if he needed help in his rule. After hearing your mother, you knew you would only ever go through the pain of labor to have a child with the man you loved. 

You got closer to the door when you heard the Grand Maester’s voice. 

“During the childbirth, there becomes a time when a father must make an impossible choice.” 

“Well, speak it.” 

“To sacrifice one or to lose them both.” 

Your eyes went wide. He couldn’t be suggesting what you thought he was. They must have not tried hard enough. Was your mother on all fours instead of on her back? Did they have a water bath for her to crouch down in? Were there even any other women in the room who actually had the correct parts? You knew plenty of the labor process from books written by midwives but hidden in the depths of libraries because maesters thought they knew better than a person with an actual vagina. There was more they could do. Or they could leave your mother and let the baby pass as a stillborn. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

But they could also just wait. A little over half of babies in that position came out with no problem. It would take more than a few hours but everything would be just fine. The baby just got mixed up a bit, feet first instead of head. The midwife books talked plenty of how to fix it. 

The voices got quiet. You breathed out in relief before hearing your mother scream. Your father and the Grand Maester looked over when you bursted into the room. You muttered no’s as your father tried to walk over to you. He couldn’t do anything as you dropped to your knees, tears streaming down your face. You felt nothing. You didn’t even care when they announced your brother, Baelon, was dead. Viserys couldn’t even put a hand on you. You walked away and locked yourself in your room, only coming out when it was time for the funeral. 

You stared at the pyre that held the wrapped bodies of your mother and brother. The castle had gathered to pay respects but knew to keep the distance from your family. Viserys couldn’t even speak. He just stared, empty inside, at the funeral pyre. Your ears perked up at hearing footsteps behind you on the soft grass. 

“They’re waiting for you. One of you,” Daemon whispered to you and your sister. 

“I wonder if," Rhaenyra spoke. “During the few hours my brother lived, my father finally found happiness."

(Ñurho valonqro paghyro jēdunna, lo tolijī kepa ñuha kirimvī rhēdos pendan.)

“Not even then,” you whispered. 

(Sesīr sepār, daor.)

"Your father needs you more now than he ever has," Daemon said.

(Kepa aōha avy sīr ojūdo tubiro toliot jorrāelza.)

Rhaenyra shook her head. “We will never be sons."

(Trēsi dōrī kessa.)

You grabbed her hand. “I can't do it.” 

(Nyke ūjot gaoman daor.)

Rhaenyra squeezed your hand once before walking closer to the pyre. You looked away as she yelled Dracarys, not able to see the pyre burn. Daemon met your eyes, trying to tell you that it would be okay. Both of you knew his words meant nothing. You were the last to leave the funeral. You didn’t attend dinner, not wanting to be near anyone.

You ignored the emergency council meeting. It wasn’t like you were important at those anyway. In the morning, you still didn’t show. Rhaenyra took your place instead as the drink-pourer. She could tell you of anything worth importance. 

She did, in fact, come back that night to report of Daemon’s insults. How he called your brother “Heir for a Day.” You found that you didn’t even care. It was hard to care when you watched them cut your mother open without any regard. Daemon only echoed the bitter thoughts in your own head.

At the same time, you understood why your father essentially banished him. He couldn’t be as reckless as he was and just say whatever came to his mouth. And he should have known that. Even if he did just earn the throne. Pushing away the only ally at court he ever had, his own brother, was not a smart move. 

You were going to miss Daemon. You thought about it as you got dressed for the night. The two of you were more alike than others. The two of you were cut from the exact same cloth. Never needing to be always around each other to prove it. He stuck to Rhaenyra more, almost all the time. But you and him were the same. Aside from your sister, he was your closest confidant in King’s Landing. Although the more you thought about it, the more annoyed you grew. Daemon left without saying goodbye. You were going to give him the silent treatment when he returned. 

Viserys knocked on your door, interrupting your plans for a night stroll. You opened it, anger all over your face. Your own father seemed nervous. What did he have to be nervous about? It was just you. 

“I have come to a decision.” 

“And I do not care,” you said, beginning to slam the door. 

“Wait!” Viserys slapped his hand on the door to keep it open. “I am sorry but you have to understand the position I was in. We ne—”

“I haven’t told Rhaenyra the truth, that you made the decision to murder your wife. You dragged her down like it was nothing and cut her open without even milk of the poppy to subdue her pain. That is what a monster would do. You let the monster that calls himself Grand Maester commit murder. Did it occur to you that there was another way?” 

“The Grand Maester sa—”

“Was she on all fours? In a water bath? A birthing chair? Or was she on her back the entire time? Did you ever bring in a midwife or only let a man tell you what is best? The midwives have written about it. They’ve gone to study in foreign lands. If you wash your hands and use alcohol which I doubt was in the room, and cut very carefully, you could have possibly saved them both. 

“Or better. You could have doused your hands in flaxseed and other oils, stood mother up, and been ready to either catch the falling child or reach in there yourself and help guide it out. But that never crossed that man’s mind. Because those books gathered dust as if they weren’t relevant.”  

“I understand. I have done something that can never be taken back.” 

“I’m glad you are aware because I will never forget that and I know Rhaenyra would never forgive you if she knew. You will live with your guilt and you will take of Rhaenyra like our mother did. Now, I wish for you to leave. I’d like to waste away in peace.” You walked away, not caring that the door was still open. 

“The heir cannot waste away in peace,” your father called out. 

You paused. “I’m sorry?” 

“I was going to go admire the dragon skull. Come with me?” 

Reluctantly, you followed your father to a room near the dragon pits. The skull of the dragon Balerion was held on a platform surrounded by candles. You had no clue who lit the candles every night in case someone in the royal family wanted to visit. Your father held a hand over each of the candles, pulling back before ever being burned.

He might have been a Targaryen but he was not a Dragon. Few people were and that was mainly in the days of old. Lord Corlys’ grandfather had been a Dragon. You knew of no others since then. It wasn’t something anyone was eager to test out. Besides, one didn’t need to be a Dragon to be a dragon-rider. 

Viserys looked at the skull. “He was the last living creature to have seen Old Valyria before the Doom. Its greatness and its flaws. What do you see when you look at dragons?” 

“A creature people think is just a weapon.” 

“Is that why you refuse to ride one? It’s not because one didn’t choose you?” 

“I’ll only have a dragon when we are of the same mind. They aren’t meant to be controlled. They’re meant to be worked with, respected, cared for like we’d care for any other pet.” 

“They break horses to ride them.” 

“The standard is to break horses. I trained mine with patience.” 

Viserys gave a short laugh. “We were missing apples for months.” 

“But it worked.” 

“Yes it did… You already know how man should have played with dragons. I only wish I realized you were the right decision sooner.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“If we don’t mind our own histories then it will do the same to us. Targaryens must understand that to be King… or Queen.” 

“Father?” 

“I behaved irrationally. I understand that. My desperation stopped me from realizing the truth. Kings will not always have sons. Heirs are by blood, not by cock or cunt. You are the most fit for the job. And you, Laelara, are my daughter.” 

“What about Rhaenyra? The records of who was born first were accidentally destroyed. What if she is first-born and not me?” 

“We both agreed. You are the only choice. She’s a dragon-rider, a knight. And advisor. Not queen, nor does she want it. I’ve been blind wanting only sons, not even acknowledging how you’ve been learning to rule since you could hold a scroll.” 

“Daemon is your heir. They all say it.” 

“He was not made to wear the crown. But you have shown everyone you were. This is no trivial matter. The Iron Throne is the most dangerous seat in the world. Scarier than any dragon’s saddle.” 

“I’ve never even sat in a saddle before.” 

“And that is what worries me more than anything. There’s something else I must tell you. Our histories tell us that Aegon looked across the Blackwater from Dragonstone and saw a rich land ripe for capture. But ambition alone is not what drove him to conquest. It was a dream.” 

You listened as your father told you about Aegon the Conqueror. The hidden fact that he was a Dreamer. The secret only passed down from ruler to heir about a dream — a song— of ice and fire. One each ruler was waiting to come true. Because each ruler got closer and closer to a terrible winter. A winter from beyond the North. A winter that would prove why a Targaryen was needed on the throne. Only one with dragon blood could defeat this terrible winter. And a Targaryen would prove themself to be the prince promised. They would unite all of Westeros and keep the world of man for the living. Viserys stood still as he looked at you. 

“Prince or princess.” Viserys pulled out his dagger. “This blade is engraved with Aegon’s message. There will come a time when I give it to you. Remember this song and tell no one but your heir. And watch the ravens, make friends with them. You must protect this dream, carry it and protect it. Promise me, Laelara.”    

You finally walked over to him. “Well, you’ve just ruined my entire life,” you said with a laugh. “I was always going to marry for love not politics.” 

“You still can. I know what I’ve done. I will stand by you and your decisions. All of them.” 

“Even if it means I never find someone?” 

“You will. I cannot lie to you. We need an heir but I will not rush you. I will not choose for you.”  

“Alright,” you whispered. “I still need time to mourn.” 

“All the time in the world I can give you after you are recognized by the Realm.”  

Viserys left without another word, leaving you alone to your thoughts. You were unsure which to process first. In the end, you chose to process your pain at the loss of your mother— the crown could wait. You only set it on the backburner when Alicent and Rhaenyra came into your chamber. They kicked out your maidens, Alicent being your maiden for the day. The two of them were more excited than you. You knew what was to follow. The throne did not come easy and solely because you were a woman. 

It never surprised you. You heard the whispers, the hate. It all made you scoff. Men acted like because they had a cock it made them right to rule. They wouldn’t even be alive to rule the world if their mother so much as threw herself down the stairs before giving birth. She’d walk away with only a scratch and they wouldn’t exist. It would do well for them to remember that. But would they? 

While you had a mind to match your uncle, you had the outward disposition of your father. That was why the other lords of the realm loved you. You seemed to be the perfect, demure woman. It was only because you didn’t see a need to be rude and abrasive to people who hadn’t done you wrong. It was okay when you weren’t the heir. Now, you were concerned they would see it as an excuse to usurp you. Did you make yourself an easy target? 

You weren’t sure as each lord bent the knee to you. How many were lying? How many were plotting? And how many were loyal allies? You were only sure of Lord Corlys Velaryon and that wasn’t saying much. The Princess Laelara had never been a title with such heavy weight before. You tilted your head as Boremund Baratheon stood in front of you. 

“I am the first-born, Lord Baratheon. There is nothing that can change that fact.” 

He kneeled when you didn’t back down. The recognition went as smoothly as it could go for a woman being named heir. You turned to face your father, now bowing to him as his official heir. With the affair over, you locked yourself in your room to grieve your mother. Dying of grief was still a sickness people believed in. Losing the princess wouldn’t not benefit the Red Keep now. 

You hadn’t shown up to the last few council meetings. For all intents and purposes, it was like you didn’t exist. You only heard about what happened through Rhaenyra. For half a year, you took information from your sister. From Lord Corlys and some Crabman taking over the Stepstones and trying to destroy everyone to your father having to take another wife and considering the Valeyrons young daughter to more mundane affairs.

She told you about it all. You didn’t even choose the next guard to join the Kingsguard eventually turned Queensguard since a guard had died of old age. You let Rhaenyra pick. She told you Ser Criston Cole had not only seen real battle but was fine on the eyes as well. Something told you she picked him more for her than for you. 

You finally left to grab a bite to eat and take a stroll. Your mourning period would soon have to come to an end. You had a job. A pouch of fruit was given to you. You popped grapes into your mouth as you walked along the outdoor hallways of the Keep. Princess Rhaenys greeted you before sitting down on a bench. You spotted your father talking to the awfully young Laena Valaryon. Duty had to be done but you were still disgusted. 

“It bothers you, does it not?” 

You turned at her words. “Does what? That you’d marry your twelve year old daughter to my father. A daughter who I’m barely older than? If you’re okay with it then what do I care? It is his duty to take a new wife and strengthen the line.” 

“I did not ask for a lesson in politics. I asked whether this bothers you. I understand the order of things but I’m not sure you do.” 

You gave her a gentle smile. “If you mean to elicit some anger from me, I’m sorry to inform you that you have the wrong Targaryen. Shall I go find my sister?” 

“I mean quite the opposite. Whether it’s to my daughter or to someone else, your father will remarry soon. His new wife will produce new heirs. One of them will be male, at least one of them. And when that boy comes of age and your father has passed, the men of the realm will expect him to be heir. Not you. Because that is the order of things.”

“That is your order. I’m free to make whatever order I choose.” 

“I wish that were true, Laelara. But the men of the realm already had their opportunity to appoint a ruling queen at the Great Council and they denied it.” 

“They denied you, Princess Rhaenys. You are the Queen Who Never Was. And I appreciate your concern, I truly do, but I will not inherit your title.” 

“Do you think you have a choice?” 

“They bent the knee to me and called me heir to the throne.” 

She approached you. “Here’s a hard truth which no one else has the heart to tell you. Men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne.” 

You handed her a grape. “But they aren’t the only ones that hold torches. I’m the one with dragons. If they want to burn the realm, I will let them. We can start by setting flame to their homes… with them in it.” 

“Your father is no fool.” 

“Neither am I.” 

You left to finish your walk, retiring to your room to mourn some more before you had to perform duties. You shot up from your bed when your sister came into your chamber. Rhaenyra seemed more panicked than anything. 

“Daemon has taken the egg that was saved for Baelon. I’m getting it back, come with me.” 

“Why?” 

“He listens to you. He acts like I’m some little girl to protect.” 

“It’s because Daemon has never met an equal before I was born.” 

“Exactly. As an equal, you are coming with me. Get up, we leave now if we’re to beat the men.” 

“The men?” You asked as you got dressed at her request. 

“Lord Otto and the Kingsguard.” 

“Rhaenyra… How are we getting there?” 

“You won’t like it.” 

Rhaenyra didn’t comment on the fact that you were squeezing her middle way too tight. Not only did you not have a dragon, you had never ridden one. This was still technically not riding one. Rhaenyra was the one controlling the massive creature. You were merely an unwilling passenger. You screamed, much to your sister’s delight, as Syrax practically nosedived.

All the men ducked for a moment as she landed on the bridge. Rhaenyra turned to look at you. Her hand reached up to gently wipe the tears from your face. You saw that the two of you had arrived just in time. Daemon’s dragon, Caraxes, looked ready to burn anyone. Ungracefully, you slipped off of Syrax. Trying to ignore the way Daemon laughed at you, you approached him. Otto stopped you. 

“What are you doing here, Princess?” 

“I’m preventing bloodshed.” 

He scoffed. “Ser Criston, please escort Princess Laelara to safety.” 

“There is no need, Otto. It’s just Daemon.” You approached the man. “Uncle.” 

“Niece,” he said with a smile. 

(Lēkia tala.)

“You’re holding an egg. That is new, is it not?” 

“The egg is intended for the heir. Poor Baelon isn’t with us.” 

“Your new wife isn’t pregnant,” you said cautiously. You didn’t even know if Daemon was actually married to her. One, he had his real wife in the Vale. Two, the woman was from a brothel. It couldn’t have been legitimate. 

“But she will be and I already have a dragon. Your sister and you shared a cradle with an egg when you were born. I want my child to have the same. And what’s wrong with the best egg for the heir?” 

“Then that egg shouldn’t be with you.” 

Daemon raised an eyebrow. “It shouldn’t?” 

“You’re occupying my home. As of last week, Viserys, formally Prince of Dragonstone, now King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm has named an heir. And if you want that throne, then kill me right now, Daemon.” 

You grabbed the blade of his sword still pointed out at Otto and the other men. The Kingsguard panicked, unsheathing swords. You pointed the Valyrian steel at your neck, the blade cutting into your hand. Daemon watched as you hissed at the pain but didn’t waver. 

“Drop your swords! This is a proper challenge!” You yelled at the Kingsguard, still looking your uncle in the eye. “Go ahead, Daemon, kill me.” 

He tilted his head, tapping the blade against your neck. The sword dropped from his hand, clanking against the cobblestone of the bridge. He closed the small distance between the two of you and placed the egg into your hands. 

“I’ll only kneel when I find you worthy of the crown.” 

“Then I expect to see you at my feet the first time I sit on the throne, you reckless stupid man.” 

“And if I don’t? If I pick up this sword right now and make my claim?” 

“Then you’ll never know true power. I would never keep Otto as Hand of the Queen… He’s a cunt.”  

Daemon kissed the top of your head before pushing you. You both laughed as you walked past Otto and hesitantly got back on your sister’s dragon. You put the egg in the cauldron of coals that the guards had carried with them before telling Rhaenyra you were ready to go, wrapping your arms around her middle again.  

(part 2)

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[mintbubbletea606]

What Lies Behind the Mask (Chapter Two: The Ghost)

“Follow Meg around and do what her mother--that lady with the ponytail--tells you to do…” Adina murmured as she patted her daughter’s copper locks. “Now, I’ve gotta work. Have a good day, pet…”

“Can’t I just stay here?” the child asked, staying rooted to her spot as her mother bent down. “No one is going to understand me. It would be easier if I just sat near you. I could read and--”

“You need to run around. Go be a child!” Adina tried as her daughter raised her brows. “I’ve already notified Madame Giry and Meg that you were going to be there with them and the other children. If you don’t want to talk, you can read while the girls are being taught, okay?” The mother kissed Maria’s forehead before the child walked out of the room with her head hanging down. Adina watched her go before sitting back down.

---

“Ladies, you are supposed to be benign gazelles, not raging elephants!” Madame Giry’s voice exclaimed over the sound of dozens of ballet flats landing on the floor. Kat turned her eyes at the door which swung open in surprise. There was not supposed to be anyone allowed in this room when the girls were practicing. Like a bullet, Madame Giry had turned around and shot a glare at the person who stood in the doorway. She only relaxed her stance when it appeared to be a small girl hanging around the door. “Maria?” The woman lifted her voice as she struck her cane against the floor to stop the girls from continuing their practice. “Ladies, you may work on arabesque while I attend to Maria. Katheryn, come over here.”

The girl’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach as she nervously padded over to her instructor.

“Yes, madame?” Kat asked as Madame Giry gestured to the shorter girl.

“Can you understand Irish?” Madame Giry questioned Kat as she pulled the girl closer to her. “Maria has only just arrived in Paris, and she hasn’t learned much French.”

“Um, I can understand a good bit of it, but I’m not an expert…” the seven-year-old said as she remembered the countless nights that her mother had set her down in front of a book of foreign languages and made her copy lines of simple sentences. Kat ransacked her mind before formulating a few sentences, “Hello. My name is Kat. What is yours?”

“Maria… Nice to meet you…” the girl murmured in her language. She spoke slowly so that Kat could understand what she was saying. It took a few seconds for Kat to string together the basic words before smiling slightly.

“Want to watch?” Kat asked, motioning towards the practicing females.

“Don’t think you can just shirk off your lessons. I’ll do a private lesson tonight!” Madame Giry said, her lips twisting together in a sentimental smile. “I might bring along Meg as well since you and her seem to get along. That might help the time move by faster…” She moved her braid off her shoulder before turning to lecture the girls on their positions. “Ladies, gazelles! Not elephants! Honestly…”

Kat let out a soft laugh as Maria looked over at her with confusion. Kat noticed and tried her best to explain the situation to the smaller girl.

“She’s mean?” Maria asked as Kat shook her head quickly.

“No, not at all! Just strict!” the girl answered, stretching her arm and tossing her short blond locks over her shoulder. She offered the girl a closed-eyed smile before her eyes widened as she jumped from her seat. Moving to talk to the teacher, she hurried out of the room, leaving behind a rather confused Maria.

There was a tense silence that followed before Kat returned to the room, holding a package that Maria regarded with guarded curiosity.

“My mama made me give to you~” the girl tried as she offered it to the younger girl. “Do you like?”

With her eyebrows creased together, the girl undid the bright red ribbon that encircled the box and lifted the lid to reveal an antique book. She gently reached inside to pull it out of the packaging, flipping through the worn pages carefully. She could immediately recognize her language printed on the pages, and a soft smile flitted across her face.

“Yes, I do…” Maria tried her best to keep the words as basic as possible to help the older girl with translating them. She watched as Kat let out a gleeful cheer and clapped her hands together, rooting through the remains of the box to pull out two dark things. The blond held one of them out for Maria to grab. When she noticed that Maria was staring at the item with confusion, she simply let out a word that was completely foreign to Maria.

Maria had read it before in books that her mother had given her; these books only briefly mentioned ‘chocolate’ when they were describing snacks and such. It must be something to eat, right?

The girl reached out to take it from Kat’s outstretched hand and took an experimental bite before rushing to spat it out the window. She could make out some of the ballet girls laughing behind their hands and felt her ears heat up.

“That’s not how you do it. Unwrap it and then eat it~” Kat did just as she had suggested and offered Maria a toothy grin. “See?”

Ducking her head down, the younger one ripped off the dark wrapping and bit into the chocolate, the taste exploding against her taste buds. Her lips pulled up into a smile, only disappearing as she noticed some of the girls watching the two with hardly disguised jealousy. Chocolate must not be widely afforded here…

---

Adina’s head turned as the door opened up slowly, revealing her older brother. The woman turned fully around in her chair and closed the fine leather book as Breton mopped at his forehead with a handkerchief in a way to assist some of his nervous sweating.

“Yes, dear brother?” the woman asked as her mind reverted back to worrying about her daughter, hoping that she would have a nice day amongst the other girls.

“I believe that you might need to know what is happening in this opera house. I know that peeking around the recent withdrawals and so forth, you will notice…” He paused for a moment to clear his throat as his eyes nervously strayed to the mirror.

“Indeed. I have noticed that about 10,000 francs to a Monsieur Fantome D’opera, if I am correct…. What is the meaning of this?”

“All that I can say as of right now is to trust your brother if you can. I cannot give you a full explanation right now. It may take several years for it to come to a head, sister. However, please know that I am doing what is best for this opera. I’m doing all that I can for that poor creature…” When he noticed his sister tilting her head to the side in confusion, he quickly added, “I am not going to explain any further, Adina!”

“So, you are just going to be handing off a small portion of our money that can be used to pay the people that work under you, including myself?” The woman felt anger boiling up inside her, threatening to spill over.

“In a way, I am paying all of my employees…” Breton spread out his hands as Adina rolled her eyes at this statement. “I must beg you to understand all that I have told you. As little as it was, I insist that what I am doing is deemed fair and good in the eyes of God.”

Adina scoffed and turned back to the accounting book and flipped it to a random page, pointer finger immediately landing on the salary of the Opera Ghost. “When I was looking, I was able to deduce that this all began ten years ago. I am not going to question what caused this switch, but if it proves that you are taking this money for yourself--”

“I can assure you that I am not doing just that. Before I leave, I warn you to not poke your nose in any matters that are not intended for you, such as this. The last accountant that I had was never heard from again, I’m afraid…” Breton placed his hand in his pocket and pulled out a pocket watch, opening it up and glancing down at the time. “Well, it seems that I have to be in an office in a few minutes. If you’ll excuse me…” With that, her brother turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

Adina watched him leave, mouth hanging open. She couldn’t tell if what he had said was merely a statement or a full-winded threat. The woman readjusted her dress and sat down again, looking down at the accursed book, mouth set in a thin line. Either way, she was almost sure that she would carry on with her investigation.

[kaidatheghostdragon]

Danny has answered the door for half a dozen different people responding to the ad (all out-of-towners - everyone in Amity knew to avoid the Fentons), and assumed it was another one of Jazz's (or ancients forbid even mom or dad's) harebrained ideas to get Danny some extra help with his grades. Frankly, he was amazed there were even that many responders who hadn't been scared off by the Ops Center on top of his home.

This time, the house defenses picked up on a low level ecto-signature, and Danny rushed to the control pad to override them before they decided whoever was on the other side might be a threat. They had triggered his own ghost sense as well, and he was confident he could overpower whoever it was if they turned out to be a problem.

He didn't expect to open the door to a baby halfa.

Okay... maybe 'baby' isn't the first thought most people have when seeing the six-and-a-half foot beast of a man standing on his doorstep. Danny would have definitely believed he was about to get robbed and murdered if he weren't an OP half ghost who fought bigger, scarier eldritch entities almost on the daily.

Or for the smothering aura of awkward-out-of-place the guy radiated (with a tinge of deep-rooted injustice and carefully managed anger, but like, the guy was half-ghost, and in Danny's limited experience, that implied some sort of trauma, so he wasn't gonna judge.)

Or just the fact that Danny is the son of Jack "kool-aid man" Fenton, and he had long since been desensitized to "big and scary," when his mind readily supplied him with all the memories he had of his dad being an utter goofball.

Still, it was all he could do to suppress the ghost instincts to immediately coo at the baby ghost and start a gentle fight to welcome him into Danny's haunt.

"...Hi," the stranger eventually greeted after the awkward silence that Danny definitely hadn't done anything to help, "I'm here because of this ad?" He held up a printed copy that Danny barely bothered to even glance at.

"You're hired," Danny blurted out, then instantly clamped down on the urge to cringe. What the hell, ghost instincts?

Stranger Danger looked just as surprised as Danny felt. "Shouldn't I talk to your parents first?"

"I'm Danny," Danny plowed on, stuffing the internal mortification and simultaneous silent ghost squeeing down until it was no longer a distraction, "I'm the one that needs a tutor, shouldn't I have a say in who tutors me?"

"I mean, ideally, yeah, you should a least have the option to avoid anyone that would make you uncomfortable," Stranger replied, looking (and radiating) a bit off-kilter before straightening into a firm answer.

"Good! Then we're both in agreement!" Danny beamed as he grabbed Stranger's hand and pulled him inside the door with probably a bit too much strength, but the guy luckily didn't falter or stumble. "First, I need to key you into the security system, then I can give you a quick tour and the rules of the house!"

"But you dont even know my name!" Stranger protested as Danny shoved his hand onto the scanner to record his ectosignature. It took a few seconds longer than it probably should have before the LED lit up in confirmation, and Danny mentally filed it away to mention to Frostbite whenever he managed to get the baby halfa a proper doctor appointment.

"My guy, you're the only one that can fix that problem," Danny answered sagely.

Stranger stared for several seconds, then dropped his hand off of the scanner when he realized Danny wasn't holding it there anymore.

"Jason."

"Nice to meet you, Jason," Danny replied with what he hoped was a friendly smile. Jason wasn't really responding to any of the aura cues Danny was giving off, so it was unlikely the guy had much knowledge on ghost culture and etiquette, "This door leads to the basement lab. You won't be allowed down there without supervision until you've completed the safety training lessons. Around the corner is the kitchen. Be mindful when opening the fridge -the hot dogs have recently unionized and are still working out their list of demands. Upstairs is where all the bedrooms are, including the guest room you'll be staying in, and over here is the pneumatic tube to the Ops Center - the UFO on the roof. Same rules as the lab, but it'll be a safe space to retreat to once you've done all the weapons and equipment training."

Danny continued on the tour, dragging Jason around by the arm as he explained where everything was and where to find all the security access panels. Jason's aura grew more and more concerned as Danny prattled on. "Are you safe here?" He asked, interrupting Danny as he tried to explain that the hot dogs make good guard dogs in a pinch.

"Couldn't be safer!" Danny said, waving off the concern, "Mom and Dad are tons better now that they understand that ghosts are sentient. They probably won't even attack you on sight! Which reminds-"

"Okay, first of all, what the fuck? Secondly, I'm sensing a leap of logic here that I've somehow missed. Why would attacking ghosts translate to attacking me?" Jason asked, looking a little panicked and loosing the tightly controlled anger buried in his aura ever so slightly.

"Jason, my guy, why do you think I hired you so quickly?" Danny asked seriously. He could sense Jason swallow a retort by the way his aura did a one-eighty from flippant to straight-up denial.

"I'm not a ghost," he stated, matter-of-fact. Danny almost believed it.

"You sure about that?" Danny pushed, raising a brow. Apparently, they were having this conversation now, and if Danny had learned anything from his older sister, it was that declaring something point blank rarely worked. It was better to lead the person through the logic until they figured out the conclusion themselves. (Thank the ancients it worked on mom and dad.)

"I have a heartbeat," Jason insisted.

"So do I," Danny replied.

"So you're not a ghost either... wait, Danny, did your parents convince you that you're a ghost? Kid, that's fucked up."

"Please," Danny scoffed, "They didn't even know I died until I told them. They're brilliant ecto biologists, but they're terrible ghost hunters. Didn't even know a ghost was living under their own roof. Well, I *say* living, but we both know that's because there isn't really a better fitting term for what we are."

"I came back from the dead. That makes me a zombie, not a ghost," Jason argued, eyes flashing green as he expertly fought for emotional control.

"I can see how you would come to that conclusion, but zombies aren't revived, just reanimated. There's no soul involved, which you clearly have."

"Wouldn't that mean I'm just resurrected?" Jason argued.

"Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you came back exactly the same as you were before?"

That was enough to convince Jason to look back toward Danny, to finally see that Danny could make his eyes glow too.

"Shit-fuck!" Jason exclaimed as he staggered back from surprise. He still wasn't responding to the *same-comfort-friend* that Danny was sending his way, so Danny tilted his head to try to portray some degree of casualness before blinking away the ecto.

Maybe he over-estimated Jason's supernatural bullshit tolerance. He should probably take a step back.

"You came here to take a tutoring job. I'm sorry I threw an existential crisis at you. You're the first person I've met that's the same thing I am and *not* a total fruitloop or my clone. But I'll understand if you want to turn down the job. Just promise to be careful out there? The anti-ecto acts are still a thing and they define you as non-sentient so if you see any creeps dressed in white suits, just avoid them as much as possible. But if you need a place to hide, then you're always welcome to come back. The ambient ecto here in Amity Park is enough to mask your ecto-signature so they can't track-"

"Kid," Jason interrupted, "Danny. Respectfully. What the absolute fuck?"

Danny cringed.

"Are you seriously telling me that there are laws out there that violate the meta human protection act, and they target both of us? And theres other people out there like both of us? And you were fucking cloned? I was looking for a job that could take me *away* from the crazy! Goddammit!" Jason leaned against the wall and slid down till he was sitting on the carpet, running a hand through his death-touched hair. "Well I guess this is happening now. I cant ever get a fucking break, can I?"

"Im sorry," Danny muttered.

"Why are you sorry? Literally none of this is your fault. Dont be sorry for things you can't control. That's just a recipe for disaster."

Danny nodded dumbly.

"Just please, on top of all of this, promise me you're parents aren't abusive, too."

"I promise my parents are not abusive," Danny stated, raising a hand as if in oath.

"Why am I not convinced?" Jason complained, running a hand down his face, "I dont think I can handle this extential crisis on top of kidnapping a kid out of an abusive home," he muttered mostly to himself, but Danny could sense the exasperation.

"Excuse you," Danny said with a snort, "*I'm* the one doing the kidnapping here!"

Jason looked up at Danny incredulously, "Sure you are, shortstack."

"Hey! Not all of us can make it to the shit brickhouse stage before dying!"

Jason blinked, clearly processing Danny's words.

"I was 15. Almost as scrawny as you," he eventually offered.

"Oh, thank god," Danny exclaimed with clear relief, "There's still a chance I'll keep growing."

"You didn't know? That was something you were worried about? I thought you said there's others?"

"Yeah, the fruitloop and the clone. Fruitloop was an adult when he died. Clone was created the way she is, and we have no idea if any changes or lack thereof are ghost shenanigans or clone shenanigans. I mean, she's my clone and somehow a girl? Is the fruitloop incompetent, or is that just how ghosts be?" Danny finished with a shrug.

Jason's aura was a weird mix of processing information like a supercomputer and having an aneurysm. Danny anxiously waited for him to respond, knowing that if he opened his mouth again he'd accidentally info dump even more.

"I still want the job," he finally stated, "assuming your parents approve."

Danny waved off his concerns once again, "They'll love having another ghost in the house. That's twice as much data for their research!"

DP x DC prompt #161

Jason loves his family, he really does, but he needs a break from them. He just needed a break in general. But what should he do? Well, he saw an ad online earlier for a stay-at-home tutor for a high school kid in a place called Amity Park. Danny, if Jason remembers correctly.

[writersblockedx]

Love for Dummies, Part Three

Pairing - Fred Weasley x Reader Summary - When Fred doesn't turn up to lessons, McGonagall goes questioning the reader. It sends her searching for reasons as to why. Warnings - Drug use, mentions of insomnia Words - 2.1K

PART ONE PART TWO PART FOUR PART FIVE

Monday, 09:23 Period one

You sat in potions, alone unsurprisingly, jotting down the notes of which Snape had written across the chalk board. This morning, you learnt from your lesson, not waiting from Fred. Some of which was choosing to be a good decision as, almost already half way through, the boy had yet to even show his face. After that scene at the party, you hadn't seen his face. Not that you had been wanting to; it had just led you to question as to what might have happened to make him absent.

Still, you pushed it to the back of your mind. If he really wanted to (which you doubted he did) you'd let him copy the notes from your book.

Though it seemed that morning things weren't going to be made so easy for you. Not that any mornings of late were easy. The door to the potions classroom creaked open and McGonagall stumbled in, her glasses rested low on her nose bridge as she scoured the classroom. "If I can borrow Miss Y/l/n please." She informed to Snape.

A few eyes shot over to you as you swallowed, awkwardly gathering yourself from the desk and walking towards McGonagall. "Thank you." The lady flashed a smile before leaving the classroom with you lingering behind her. She made sure to shut the potions door, not lurking far before turning to you, a glare starring you down. "Well?"

It was as if she assumed you knew as to what she was referring to. "Well, what?" You reiterated, unsure of your own words.

The women huffed as she always did, "Weasley." Of course this was linked to Fred. What in your life wasn't link to the red head anymore? "Where is he?"

You had shrugged, "I'm not sure. I assumed he was sick."

"Sick?" McGonagall had repeated, more to herself than back to you. "That's news to me as the boy wasn't with Mrs Pomfrey." You could only stare back at the women that you were sure of which knew more than you happened to. "As his tutor, I see it fit for you to go find him and work out what's wrong. Whether that's now, after your lessons or at the weekend. I don't care when, I just want that Weasley boy in his lessons."

The professor was about to leave it there had it not been for your objection. "Professor," You called, urging her back, "Respectfully I'm only his tutor, I don't find it my place to nose my way into his personal life." You were almost certain that, even if you did ask, Fred would tell you nothing.

McGonagall settled in her footing as she smile ever so weakly your way. "If he can't make it out of bed, then you can't tutor him." She argued.

You debated over what to say next, whether to even say it. But something inside of you urged you on, told you, if not now, you'd only be dragging yourself from this tutoring for longing than you wanted. "The boy is-" You cut yourself off for a second, collecting your thoughts. "Fred doesn't want my help. He's made that very obvious. I personally feel as though maybe I wouldn't be the best person to tutor him. Maybe he'd be better with his brother or Lee even." You suggested with a very much forced smile in an attempt to sweeten your words.

"You've seen how them boys are. Together, they could barely string thoughts into sentences." The women commented which, now you thought over it, was very much truth. "I know he may be a challenge at times-" That was putting it nicely. "-But he needs this." Still, McGonagall was looking back at your blank, unconvinced expression. "Let's not forget about that Outstanding, no?"

Oh you had not forgotten, you just weren't so sure it was worth it anymore. "I really think it would be better for both me and Weasley if we stopped this." Outstanding grade included.

McGonagall paused for a moment, her voice coming out low as she spoke her final thoughts on the matter. "Give it this week. I urge you to figure out what is keeping him from attending lessons. And maybe it'll get easier." She advised. And when you said nothing in return, she added, "You never know, you might be the one to break him."

You doubted that.

Monday, 3:09pm

As the final bell for the day rung, you joined in the mass of students which hurried back to the dorms and common rooms. You lingered in the Gryffindor common room for a minute or two, trying to catch Fred. As each second past, you made the note that he wasn't here. Which left one other option you were aware of: his dorm.

A place of which was much more personal and private. A place of which you didn't really want to walk in on at the wrong time. God only knew what that boy got up to in there.

Still, with nothing else to go off, you made your way towards the boy's dorm. You stood outside the door, the wood only staring back at you. Swallowing, you raised your hand and clicked your knuckles gently and waited. Harsh whispers were spouted out on the other end, though nothing you were able to make out. You could only assume it was Fred and either George or Lee.

With a few 'Shut up!' and rushed 'Alright alright!' heard, the door finally creaked open and, who you believed to be, George flashed a smirk. Though he made sure the door leant on his body as to not show what was hiding in their dorm room. "Y/n? What can I do for you?" He smiled ever so smugly as to hide the fear which resided in his expression.

Though, you were never given a chance to answer. "Y/n?" Someone else reiterated from behind the door - Fred. He shuffled from his place, shoving himself in view as the door opened just a little more. "Jesus, what are you doing here?" He had nagged.

"You weren't in class, McGonagall asked to me to go find out what was up." You explained.

Fred couldn't help but scoff at your words. He leaned in just slightly, one hand gripped against the door as for it to not slide open anymore. "You do know that you don't have to do everything that McGonagall tells you to."

"I'm not doing it for McGonagall." You had returned. God, if you had been doing it for McGonagall you wouldn't have been doing it for all this time.

That seemed to prompt a forceful smirk at his expression, similarly to the one George had flashed you when he first opened the door. "Aw, doing all this for me now are you, Princess?"

You seemed to scoff louder than he had. "Definitely not." You quirked. "But you don't seem sick, so I take that as my time to leave before reminding you to actually get out of bed tomorrow and get to class." You paused, leaning in just a little to add, "For my sake."

Not that you had any expectations that Fred was actually going to do anything for you. "I don't make promises."

Your eyes narrowed just slightly as you thought your next move out. As you figured out before, it was as if you and Fred were in the midst of a game. Every interaction you had was a move. And with every move which seemed to sting at the other's gut, was a move closer to winning. So, in reminder of that, you kicked your boot at the door, forceful enough to loosen from Fred's grip as it swung open.

You first noticed Lee Jordan. He sat cross legged on Fred's bed, a badly rolled joint sitting in his palms, wrappings and other spices surrounding the bed. "Shit." George had swore under his breath as his eyes jumped between you and Lee's expression which could only be related to a child who'd just been caught stealing candy.

"So this is what you've been doing all day? Rolling blunts?" You had interrogated as you stared back at the Fred.

"And selling them." Lee added, earning him a deep glare from both of the twins.

Fred chewed at his jaw as he glanced back over at you. "You know, if you really looked into it, smoking provides some positive health benefits." The boy rushed out, having no idea what else to say. It wasn't as if he could lie through the situation, the evidence was literally right in front of your eyes.

Your shook your head at them, making the comment of, "Jesus." Before turning and leaving the doorway of their dorm.

Fred fought at his mind before sighing and giving in as he pushed himself after you. "Y/n!" He called, enough to make you stop. "Please don't go telling anyone. It's really not what it looks like."

You raised a brow at him, you weren't sure how else that scene could have been interrupted. "Really? Because to me it seemed you didn't show up to class so you could sell weed." You responded to the boy, stern in your expression. "I don't care if you smoke or don't, but you can't let that be the reason you miss lessons. It's no wonder your grades are as bad as they are." God you could have sworn you were sounding exactly like Hermione.

Fred broke eye contact with you, swallowing the lump which had been growing in his throat. "That's- That's not why I wasn't in today." He paused, glancing up at your expression which did nothing to assure him. It never did. But still, he went on. "I didn't get any sleep. Like at all." He paused once more. "I've tried before to go to lessons after no sleep; turns out, not easy."

You seemed to nod your head, the anger settling as your mind connected the dots. "Which is what the weed is for?"

"Yeah. It was George's idea mainly." He explained. "I've had it a few times before. And within seconds I'm just...gone."

You tiled your head slightly in thought, "And he selling part?"

"That's all George and Lee." Fred told you with a smile ever so lightly urging at his lips as he went on. "I was just helping. God knows me and George could use a little money." He added.

It seemed, as you looked back up at Fred, for the first time it was no longer as if you were playing this game. As if he had just exposed himself to you, the person who seemed most likely to twist his words against him. Yet, as he looked back at you, he saw no intention of such. In fact, he dare say that sympathy stared back at him.

You titled on your feet a little as you looked to Fred, a smile painted at your lips. "You know maybe before I start trying to tutor you on potions and charms, it'd be helpful if I taught you some more-" You paused in debate of the right word, "-legal ways which can help with sleep."

The boy's smiled reflected your own as he nodded. "That sounds- It sounds better." Better seemed to be the word which popped first in Fred's head. He couldn't say yet whether he was going to like the idea, or whether it would turn into more of a drag than revising charms. But, what he did know was that he felt comforted in that fact you were accepting and that you were willing to help him. Not just help him with his grades and his terrible attitude to his education, but to help him with what was behind that. Just as McGonagall had planned.

"Better and legal and won't get you kicked out of school." You made sure to add.

In that moment, you might have believed this person to be a complete stranger. The Fred which stood in front of you was open, polite and, dare you say it, he was lovely. He grinned and spoke words which seemed kind rather than rude. While you questioned how long it would last for, you were glad that he had opened in a way.

You supposed McGonagall had been right; you had broke through the shell of Fred Weasley.

Tagslist - @rexorangecouny , @sukunas-cult-leader , @callmebyyourhoe , @calumhoodstinymochi , @chaoticscissorswagoncop , @aliceblxck​ , @bamboozledflamplant​

(Please let me know whether you would like to be added or removed)

[ptergwen]

only you and me

w/c: 6.7k

warnings: angst, mentions of weed, and some swearing

summary: whenever peter tries to tell you how he feels, harry gets in the way

a/n: ahhhh hi my loves! my mini writing break is over :,) life has been just a mess for me and i’ve been way more critical than usual about my work but i’m doing a little better and ready to get back into everything! this helped me a lot so i’m excited to share it with y’all <3 it’s also my first time writing harry osborn so lmk how i did lmaooofwfjj but yeah pls enjoy

-

“dude, she’s right there! just tell her!” ned whisper yells to peter, elbowing him for emphasis. they’re hidden behind a wall to watch you at your locker. you’re grabbing books while betty rants to you and mj rolls her eyes. “not now. she looks... busy,” peter gulps, gaze trailing down your body. he always finds excuses to put off telling you how he feels.

or rather, excuses find him. something comes up every time he gets the courage to do it. he has no idea why he’s so scared because he’s pretty sure you like him back. pretty sure. there are a few reasons why you might not. also, plenty why you might. you stay up late texting most nights, and you’ve even flirted a couple of times. it never fails to make peter blush. he trips over his words whenever he tries to flirt back.

he’s had feelings for you since the first time you two hung out alone. none of your other friends could make it, but you happily took him up on his offer to come over. you grinned through his whole apartment tour, asked about may and what she does. when peter showed you his room, you even complimented his movie posters, much to his surprise.

“really? you don’t think they’re, like, dorky?”

“no, peter. your interests aren’t dorky. everyone likes what they like.”

and, he liked you. he knew it from that point on. you’d know it too if the universe wouldn’t keep stopping him from saying that.

“she’s so...” peter pauses for a second. him and ned watch you pull betty in by her shoulders as if you’re going to kiss her. she dodges you, mj pushing her back, all three of you giggling about it before you grab betty’s hands and give her words of encouragement. “cool,” peter finishes, turning back to ned. “i mean, how she puts herself out there like that.”

“what’s stopping you from doing the same thing?” ned points out with a knowing smile that peter returns. you make it look so easy. whenever you’re comfortable around people, you can let go of any doubts you have. you stop worrying about what they might think and instead do what you want. it’s inspiring to peter, and heart warming getting to be one of the people you’re fully you with.

he wishes he could apply your wisdom himself.

peter shakes his head, staring down at the floor. “oh, you know. anxiety, fear of rejection. that fun stuff.” “so, yourself,” ned concludes, clapping peter’s backpack so hard it makes him stumble forward. betty and mj wave goodbye to you before heading to their first class. you’re still getting your things together at your locker. this is peter’s moment.

“come on, dude! y/n’s not busy anymore. you got this.” ned keeps his hand on peter’s back, adding on, “it’s been a year already.” “half a year,” peter corrects him in a mumble. he’s liked you for a really long time. “ok, i’m going. wish me luck.” he takes a deep breath and focuses in on you. “aw, dude. you don’t need it.” ned gives him one last pat on the back. “good luck, though.” “thanks, man. see you in trig.”

right as peter starts heading over, harry comes up behind you and covers your eyes. you squeal, jumping up and turning to him, laughing as you playfully hit at his chest. he brings you into a hug where your face is buried in his sweater and probably inhaling his super strong, super expensive cologne.

that’s what’s stopping peter, harry freaking osborn. his own friend.

peter quickly loses the tiny bit of confidence ned gave him. he figures it might be better to hold off on his confession and get an early start to class. unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen. harry has already spotted him and calls him over.

“hey, pete! come give us some love, eh?” harry beams, an arm slung around your shoulders and you smiling up at him. you direct your smile to peter when he slumps his way to your locker. his lips pull into a barely noticeable frown. you notice. “there’s my guy. why so down, sunshine?” harry offers his fist for a fist bump. peter gives it to him, eyes staying on you.

harry osborn. where to begin with such a specimen? he’s the perfect combination of everything you’d want in a guy. he gets good grades, he’s a star player on on the basketball team, nice to everyone and makes you laugh, popular yet fits right into your small group.

he was friends with you before the popular thing. what kicked it off was him making varsity basketball while only being a sophomore. yep, he’s unreal. since then, he’s been balancing his cool life and also hanging with “the nerds,” as he likes to call you. he got his own feelings for you along the way. peter can tell.

he’ll give you rides home, compliment how you look, basically act like your boyfriend without really being it. it absolutely infuriates peter because he doesn’t compare to harry in the slightest. if he were you and had the choice between himself or harry, he would pick harry.

it’s been a factor in why he hasn’t come clean about how he feels yet. he’s not trying to create a love triangle that he doesn’t stand a chance surviving in.

“for real, peter. you good?” you ask him, eyebrows knitted together in concern. “fine,” peter lies and musters up a smile. “i’m just tired. didn’t sleep too good last night.” you’re only more concerned now. this has been happening to him a lot lately. you search for his eyes. “again?”

“aw, man. you need something for it?” harry punches peter’s shoulder and lowers his voice. “i know this kid who-“ “harry, stop.” your words are serious, tone lighthearted. you throw your head back on his arm. “do you really know a kid?” “i’m not telling you,” he says in an overly happy voice, you humming the same way. peter feels like he’s third wheeling.

“i was telling pete.” harry looks at him expectantly, peter’s mouth dropping open while he thinks of what to say. harry likes to mess around. this is a different level, though. “no thanks. i- i shouldn’t. i’m-“ “relax, i don’t know a kid,” harry chuckles and points at peter. “your face right now.” it’s completely flushed. you knock into harry’s side.

“ok, well literally no one laughed. you’re scaring him,” you tell harry sternly. peter tugs tight on one of his backpack straps. he doesn’t feel like he’s third wheeling you two now. he feels like your kid. he’ll never let ned mettle in his love life ever again if this is where it gets him. “he knows i’m kidding, y/n/n. right?” harry checks with peter. you make a face at him that says you aren’t convinced.

he switches his arm from you to peter, drawing him into his side. “look, pete. i’m sorry. the only kid i know who’s selling is chocolates for his band trip.” you’re satisfied with that, grinning at both of them. peter forces a laugh and nods. “no worries, man. i gotta get to class.” “good boy,” harry lets him go. “bye, pete. we’ll see you at lunch,” you remind him. he gives you a tight lipped smile. “see you, y/n/n.”

you and harry continue practically spooning each other as soon as peter is out of sight.

what the hell is going on?

peter is back to being grumpy, plopping down in his seat next to ned. their teacher has the lesson plan pulled up on the smart board. ned looks from it to peter, almost jumping in his seat. “oh, you’re back already? how’d it go?” “it didn’t go,” peter huffs, copying down the aim. he’s only doing it so he doesn’t have to look ned in the eyes while telling him he bailed. again.

“you didn’t do it?” ned repeats, peter writing something about pi and a unit circle in his notebook. he bites the inside of his cheek. “you have to do it at some point,” ned sighs out and picks up his pencil. even he’s getting tired of this, and ned never gets tired of a good friends to lovers moment. “i think she likes harry,” peter says under his breath. “huh?” ned gasps.

peter doesn’t feel like explaining the extremely awkward moment he just finished living. although, it wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion. “y/n. he came over, and they kept hugging and whatever.” “they always do that,” ned almost scoffs, their trigonometry teacher moving to stand in front of the class. “yeah, but he had his arm around her the whole time we-“

the bell rings and cuts their conversation short. peter struggles to label the unit circle they learn about when his mind is filled to its capacity with images of you and harry all over each other. it’s not daydreaming. this is a nightmare. maybe, he actually will be having sleep problems.

peter’s morning is relatively decent after that. he gets to do an experiment with mj in chemistry, and she lets him take the lead for once. spanish is easy, health is okay, then he has a free period, then it’s lunch. things can only go downhill from here.

he thinks about hiding in the library until it’s over, but it’s the thought of harry eating your face that gets him to drag himself to the cafeteria.

flash is at the head of your table talking to harry when peter gets there. great, now he can’t eat his soggy chicken fingers in peace. “sounds dope. let’s go on the-“ flash stops saying what he was saying and nods at peter. “penis parker, you’re late.” peter takes his seat on your left, harry on your right. you glance over at him to make sure he’s okay. he acts like he doesn’t care, peeling open his milk carton.

“just text me later, man. get outta here,” harry dismisses flash, the two of them doing a bro handshake before he leaves. he’s well aware of his and peter’s history. he keeps them separate for the obvious reasons. peter appreciates it because saying no to flash is nearly impossible. he shouldn’t be so mad at harry, should he? he’s a good friend.

harry’s arm snakes around your waist and brings you closer to him. never mind.

“who’s up for sushi later?” he asks the table, everyone agreeing and saying how awesome that sounds. everyone except peter. you tap his shoulder with a small smile. “what about you, peter? you coming?” he realizes you’re all waiting for him to respond and puts down his milk. “uh, i can’t. homework,” he lamely answers.

“dude, we have homework, too. just do it a little later,” ned suggests, betty laying her head on his shoulder. you share a look with her, your eyes wide and a grin on your lips. that must have been what you were talking about this morning. she asked for boy advice. ned advice. why can’t this crap work out for peter?

“i really can’t. sorry, guys,” peter half heartedly apologizes.

he misses the disappointment that crosses your features because he’s pouting at his lunch again.

“homework, huh?” mj tests him, squinting as she takes a sip of apple juice. harry nudges peter’s side with two fingers. “you still mad about the sleeping thing?” “sleeping thing? what sleeping thing?” betty wonders while ned rests his head against hers. a quiet laugh slips out of you as you lean in to tell her.

“peter said he couldn’t sleep last night, so harry offered him...” you mime rolling a joint. “i said no,” peter clarifies, rolling his eyes at the inevitable teasing he’s about to get. none of you have even smoked besides harry. you’re being annoying about it. “of course you did,” mj sighs and kicks her feet up on the table. “unrelated to what y/n just said... harry, i have insomnia.”

everyone bursts into laughter at that, betty shoving her side and you pulling harry by his torso as he pretends to go into his backpack. peter wants nothing to do with any of this. he usually enjoys joking around with the group, even if it’s at his expense because it’s from a place of love.

today feels like you’re straight up making fun of him. harry might as well invite flash to join in.

“alright, alright, alright. enough of the weed talk,” harry decides, you removing your arms from him and grabbing your coffee. “you’re such a bad influence.” your voice drips with sarcasm. you bend the straw and take a sip while scooting closer to peter. “you really can’t come later? i feel like i’ve barely seen you today.” that’s on harry. “i wish i could, y/n/n,” peter exhales. “i’ll text you later, okay?”

you don’t get to answer because mj tugs on your arm, distracting you from peter. she explains how she has to do an art project on what it means to be a woman and needs help brainstorming ideas. you’re full of them, offering up an interesting perspective for her to use. peter smiles to himself as he listens in. you find a new way to impress him every day.

he should tell you that.

“hey, y/n?” “listen to her! you’re seriously my idol,” betty gushes, so loudly you don’t hear peter. not a single thing has gone in his favor at this table. he gives up.

peter locks himself in his room when he gets home from his overall terrible day. he does homework like he said he would, only taking a break for dinner, giving one word replies to may’s questions about school. he’d much rather be having sushi with you. he would’ve gone if the others didn’t.

after dinner, it’s back to grumbling and scribbling down answers. there’s a knock at peter’s door around ten o’clock, which he assumes is may saying goodnight. “i’ll be done in a few minutes, may! love you.” “it’s y/n,” you reply, the smile clear in your voice. his eyes go comically wide. that’s the last thing he expected to hear. “oh. uh, come in.”

you’re holding a small takeout bag, shutting the door behind you and walking over to his desk. you meet his twinkling eyes in the dim light that hits off his walls. from his open window, you faintly hear cars as they rush by and honk their horns in the distance, accompanied by a fresh breeze. it’s cozy, safe. it’s peter.

“hey. what’re you doing here?” peter questions, leaving his pencil in his binder and shutting it. you shake around the plastic bag. “i saved you a roll.” he bites back a smile, getting up from his chair. “may let me in. she was really chill about it,” you continue and hold out the sushi for him. “it’s a california roll. i wasn’t sure what you wanted, and everyone likes those.”

peter lets his smile spread out and takes the bag from you. “thanks, y/n/n. i was honestly hoping one of you would have leftovers.” you laugh softly, peter setting the bag down on his desk. he scratches the back of his neck. “did you guys have fun?” “yeah. i missed you, though.” you clasp your hands behind your back. “everyone did.”

“i feel bad i didn’t go. just... things felt off today,” peter admits the real reason he stayed home, you letting out a breath. “it was harry, wasn’t it? god, he was being so weird.” your arms drop back to your sides. “there’s a difference between playing around and actually upsetting people.” by people, you mean peter. no one else seemed too bothered by him. “i’m sorry, peter. i tried to make him stop.”

“no, you don’t have to apologize,” peter assures you sweetly, grabbing one of your hands. “it’s not your fault, okay? he probably didn’t realize what he was doing. the jokes landed.” he’s referring to ned, mj, and betty finding harry’s comments hilarious. you lace your fingers with peter’s and frown. “this isn’t like him. maybe he’s stressed about a game.” your gaze drifts off to the side, what you see getting you to perk up.

“is that new?” you ask peter, leading him by his hand over to a poster he put up recently. it’s for 13 going on 30. you showed it to him a couple of weeks ago, and he clearly liked it a lot. any movie that makes it to peter’s wall is a special one. “mhm. i got it literally right after you went home the night we watched,” he chuckles and looks over at you while you study the poster.

you turn to face peter again, keeping your hand tight in his. “were you gonna tell me something earlier? at lunch?” he’s confused for a second, then he remembers your ideas for mj’s art project. the fact that you cared enough to bring it up after all these hours makes his stomach do summersaults in the best way. he shrugs and gives you a smile.

“the stuff you were saying about femininity and how there are so many ways to define it,” peter starts, you grinning back at him, at how he took an interest in what you were saying. “you’re so smart, y/n. you make me wanna be better.” a light pink dusts his cheeks. “peter, you’re a feminist?” you coo, joking but genuinely wondering at the same time. he squeezes your hand. “duh.”

“i thought so,” you nod, taking in the rest of what he said. “you think i’m smart? i trust you because you’re way smarter.” peter pffts in response. “i’m only good at, like, physics. you’re good at things that really matter. smart in that way.” you’re feeling your own face get hot. you swing yours and peter’s hands back and forth. “why are you the nicest person ever?”

the answer to that, may, peeks her head into the room. “hey, kids. it’s getting late.” she notices your intertwined hands and shoots peter a smirk. “i thought you were a cool aunt,” he teases, you sadly letting go of him. “she is. thanks for having me over so late,” you tell may on your way to the door. “oh, stop it. you can come over any time.” she puts a hand on your arm. “thank you so much,” you murmur back.

you walk backwards to the doorway, may leaving you two to say your goodbyes. “wanna hang out only you and me? on friday maybe?” that should make up for everything earlier. “yeah, of course. friday is perfect,” peter agrees and bounces on his feet as excitement takes over him. “thanks again for the sushi.”

“no problem. goodnight.” it’s taking every last bit of power in you to not freak out. “night. text me when you get home.” he presses his tongue into his cheek. you slowly pull the door shut. “ok, i will. bye!” it closes, leaving peter skipping across his room to his bed on one side and you doing a little happy dance on the other.

the next day at school, everything is back to normal. honestly, better than normal. your hangout with peter is tomorrow, and he’s planning on telling he likes you then. he already talked it over with ned. he’s relieved it’s finally happening, especially since him and betty have their own thing. she’ll be taking up most of his free time from here.

your group is spending lunch outside today, lounging across a picnic table, surrounded by trees and the shining sun in a bright blue sky. mj sits on the table and has her feet on the bench, which would usually bug peter to no end. he doesn’t mind this time because it takes up enough room that harry has to sit with ned and betty instead of you. you lean into peter���s side and stab a piece of lettuce from your salad.

“it’s so nice out,” betty sighs, ripping off half her cookie and giving it to ned. “we should ditch.” “oh my god, you sound like harry,” you groan between bites of salad. peter lets out a breathy laugh, you looping your arm through his. he grins down at where you’re linked. harry crosses his own arms over his chest. “she wishes.” betty only nods because her mouth is full of m&m’s.

“nah, seriously. i’d take us out somewhere, but i have practice after school.” he speaks quieter than he normally does, less confident. your theory about him having basketball drama was right. “what did we tell you? talk about the sports shit with your sports friends,” mj complains, sitting back on her hands. she glances at harry over her shoulder and catches ned mouthing you can’t say that.

sitting criss cross, she spins around to face harry, unenthusiastically saying, “what i meant was, you sound upset. what’s wrong?” harry gets into it right away, like he’s been waiting for someone to ask. “coach says there might be a scout at the next game. it’s a really good opportunity even though i don’t have to worry about... college yet.” the word makes him cringe.

“oh, damn. that’s a big deal. scary,” mj snorts, turning back to you and peter. her behavior makes ned internally face palm. “that’s awesome, dude. you’re gonna play amazing like always.” he gives harry a high five, who smiles nervously in response. he’s never nervous. “thanks, bro. you guys wanna come and watch?” he’s never invited you to one of his games before either.

this isn’t a group of friends that likes to spend their weekends in bleachers while angry teens shout around them.

“definitely. we’ll be there to support you, harry,” betty answers for everyone, ned pecking her cheek in satisfaction. mj cusses to herself before replying. “if i absolutely must, sure.” only you and peter haven’t said anything yet. he’s been chewing his lower lip, and you your salad. harry looks between you two hopefully. it’s more so at you, which peter doesn’t like.

“y/n? pete? it would help a lot, i’m serious.” he taps his fingers on the table until one of you speaks up. you’re the one who does. “i’ll go. this is pretty huge, right? congrats.” you reach across the table and squeeze his shoulder while simultaneously tightening your arm around peter’s. he takes that as a cue. “i’ll go, too. happy for you, man.”

though peter isn’t currently in the best place with harry, he should show his support by showing up. it can’t be too bad since the rest of you will be there.

a loud, long chuckle leaves harry as he hops up from his bench and comes to yours and peter’s. he bends over and wraps both of you in a hug from behind at the same time. his arms are around each of your shoulders, holding you so close his cheeks are squished against either of your heads. you giggle at that, peter finding himself laughing along and reaching back to ruffle harry’s hair.

staying mad at him is one of the world’s greatest challenges.

“you’re saints, both of you. my angels.” he kisses the back of your head, then lays one right on peter’s cheek, leaving him blushing red and grinning. “what about the rest of us? i never go to shit like this,” mj huffs and seems genuinely offended. harry wiggles his eyebrows. “you want a kiss?” his offer gets her flustered, which she can’t manage to hide. that’s a first.

“shut up. i’m just saying... never mind.” mj glares at you and peter, ned and betty making kissing noises behind her. “someone change the subject.” peter steps in. “when’s the game, harry?” he asks, harry snapping and waving his finger. “tomorrow! cancel your plans, kiddos.” “like we had any,” betty retorts.

some of you did. that was going to be peter’s hangout with you.

ned smiles sympathetically at peter before betty is getting his attention. you‘re unfazed and rambling to harry how proud you are of him.

did last night mean nothing? was it an empty gesture? were you only doing it out of guilt? peter must have read your visit wrong. he’s been wrong the whole time he’s liked you. you don’t like him back, you pity him. harry is who you’re really interested in.

may always says he should trust his instincts.

peter pulls his arm from yours suddenly, swinging his backpack onto his shoulders. you’re taken back because it’s so out of no where. you stop talking to harry so you can figure out his deal. “where are you going?” “bell’s gonna ring,” peter mumbles and picks up his lunch tray. he heads to the garbage can without another word or goodbye to anyone.

“i’m gonna go check on him,” you tell harry, already getting up from the bench. “you do that,” he acknowledges and calls mj’s name again.

peter tosses his mostly untouched food in the trash, seeing you make your way over from the corner of his eye. he tries to speed walk inside so he doesn’t have to talk to you. you’re too quick, cornering him between the door and brick wall.

“we still have ten minutes,” you state, worry flashing across your face. he’s avoiding you. well, attempting to. “what’s wrong?” peter gulps before saying anything. “my next class is on the other side of the-“ “no,” you cut him off. “what’s really wrong?”

he doesn’t feel like having this discussion. it’s bad enough he came to the realization his feelings are one sided. must he break that down for you so soon?

you toy with your sleeve while you speak because peter doesn’t. “i thought you and harry were fine again. i mean, he kissed you.” peter clenches his jaw so hard he can imagine the sound of it cracking. “it’s not about harry.” “what, then? what the fuck happened?” your sleeves are now balled in your fists. you hate it when peter does this angsty routine.

he keeps his voice low and calm so he doesn’t come off as jealous or hurt. he’s both of those things. “the game is tomorrow. friday. when we were supposed to hang out.” you meet peter’s eyes with nothing but remorse in yours. “i... i forgot,” is all you have to say.

you feel awful. he’s had a tough couple of days, and you fell through on your promise to cheer him up.

“clearly,” peter remarks, voice sharp. the way you’re looking at him makes him think he won’t like what’s coming. “peter, we have to go,” you almost whine. “i’m really sorry, i am, but this is a big night for harry. he needs us there.” peter stays silent. you’re twisting the knife deeper into him with every word. “i wouldn’t be cancelling if this wasn’t important.”

now you’re cancelling?

you reach for peter’s hand, but he shoves it into his pocket. that stings for you and him. “please, peter. we’ll hang out at the game, i swear.” this is the last chance you’ve got, so you pile it on. “harry won’t even be there, technically. he’ll... he’ll be on the court.” peter hadn’t thought about that. he lets himself unclench, starting to see the appeal. you add one more thing to lighten the mood and persuade him.

“i’ll buy you popcorn, all you can eat.” it’s that easy. cracking a smile, peter accepts. he’ll deal with his unresolved, unreciprocated feelings after he stuffs his face, courtesy of you. “you better. i’m gonna need it for this long ass game.” your face lights up, grabbing his wrist in both hands.

“so, you’ll come?” “i’ll be there,” he confirms. you throw your arms around his neck. he laughs into the hug and holds you by your middle. “i promise this’ll be the first and last game we ever go to,” you say and mean it. harry is lucky you’re even suffering through this a first time. “thank god,” peter exhales, resting his chin on your head.

that interaction leaves peter confused as hell. you’re crushing his mind and soul one minute, then hugging him the next. you were making him feel so special lasts night, and treating harry the same way today. it’s so jumbled that he isn’t sure if he’s in the friend zone or something more zone.

there are a ton of mixed signals coming his way, and he sucks at reading people as is.

he can’t take another second of this. he’d rather you come out and say you like harry already because it’s torture. knowing you don’t want him in that way would at least eliminate the possibility of anything happening between you two, and allow him to stop driving himself insane.

he’d be able to stop taking it out on harry, too.

the hold you have on peter, that you’re oblivious to, rules his every thought and decision. he’s constantly analyzing what you say to him, debating whether or not your affection is simply platonic. it’s been half a year of this madness, the night of harry’s game blurring every line so much more.

your group arrives a bit early to find seats and hype harry up before he plays. peter gets there after all of you because he’s not exactly in a rush to watch sweaty guys be aggressive. there’s only one upside, which is spending the night with you... and everyone else.

he steps into the gym that’s filling up fast with family members, friends, and the college scout harry was talking about. midtown has a different feeling to it at night. the smell of pencils is oddly stronger, and it’s a lot less intimidating.

cheerleaders are huddled in a circle while the team supervisor has them run their chants. the “leading official,” who peter thought was called a referee, takes his place off to the side. coaches give their players last minute instructions, players fool around with each other, a lot is going on.

peter scans the room for you, and grins a toothy grin when you catch his eyes. you’re sitting by yourself in one of the middle bleachers, only a bag of skinny pop in your lap. you return the smile once you spot him and wave him over.

“i don’t know why, but i thought they’d have an actual concession stand,” you explain the lack of fresh, buttery popcorn as peter takes a seat next to you. he catches the prepackaged bag you toss him. “it’s just a snack table.” “works either way,” peter hums and pokes the bag. “i’m not sure skinny pop is all i can eat, though.” “it’s good!” you defend the snack you chose for him.

“i’m kidding! you’re right, it’s kind of addicting.” he puts it by his feet for now and gives you a half smile. “you’re welcome,” you deadpan in a playful tone. “thanks.” he narrows his eyes. “where’s everyone else?” “right,” you twist around and gesture to the bleacher above you. mj is gloomily seated near the back. ned and betty are a few behind you.

“i told them to find their own seats so we can sit together, alone.” you look over at peter and move ever so slightly closer. “welcome to our friday hangout. just the two of us.” “aw, you didn’t have to do that,” peter laughs out, his knee bumping yours. “but, i’m happy you did.” he goes to put an arm around you, then harry comes racing up the stairs.

just the two of you didn’t last so long.

“y/n, i’m freaking out,” harry announces, zooming through your row to get over to you. he stops once he’s standing in front of peter and shakes him by his shoulder. “hey, pete. you made it.” “yup,” peter replies, pressing his lips together. you wince at his reaction, then quirk an eyebrow at harry. “you’re freaking out? why?”

harry sits down between you and peter, blissfully unaware of the moment he interrupted.

“i found the scout. he’s fucking terrifying as fuck. this super ripped guy, looks like he’d rather be anywhere else,” he talks quietly, like the man will hear him. “he’s not the only one,” peter says to himself, kicking around his bag of popcorn to pass time. you ignore him and grimace.

“shit. wait, how do you know it’s him? did they tell you?” you’re not sure how these things go. harry casually shrugs a shoulder. “dude has a clipboard. seems legit to me.” he gives you a cocky smile. “he’s also in the row before mj. that’s how i noticed. um...” his back now facing peter, he whispers something in your ear that makes you giggle.

peter’s face scrunches up as the spark of anger the past few days have lit reignites itself.

when harry pulls away, you motion for him to come closer with your index finger, cupping your hand around his ear and speaking into it.

nope, no more. peter is entirely about to explode. you cancelled your plans so you can force him to watch basketball, you sweet talk him so he’ll let it go, and you’re running right back to harry after all of that? what the hell does that mean?

peter stands up from his seat. “y/n, we need to talk,” he demands, you moving away from harry to respond. “ok, gimme a minute. we’re-“ “no, we need to talk now.” you don’t have time to refute because he’s taking your arm and dragging you away. harry squints at you in utter confusion.

“um, have a good game! we’ll talk later,” you call back to him, walking with peter even though you have no idea what his issue is and aren’t a fan of how he’s acting.

he releases you once you’re in the hallway. you make a point of harshly yanking your arm back, a scowl painting your lips. “jesus, peter. i was having a conversation.” “do you like harry?” peter blurts out. you’re so shocked at his abruptness that you don’t give him much to work with, only, “what?” “do you like harry?” he asks you again, this time less accusing and more curious.

“do i like...” you’re too aware of the seemingly hundreds of people surrounding you to answer comfortably. “can we talk about this somewhere else?” “sure,” peter nods, letting you lead the way since he did to get out here. you two go down the hall and choose the first room you see, which happens to be the custodian’s closet. it’s thankfully unlocked.

things were tense between you and peter on the way over, and it’s physically mirrored when you step into the room, air thick and smelling of lemon cleaning supplies. you tug on the string hanging down to turn on the light. it casts a faded glow, leaving you in mostly darkness. you sort of like it. this feels more intimate, which is fitting for what you’re both about to say.

neither one of you knows where to begin. peter’s question is ringing in the back of your mind, and you could touch on that, but there’s more to it than a simple yes or no. you don’t have to worry about it because peter gets his words out first.

“i think harry likes you, and i think you like him back,” peter restarts, already sounding deflated by what he came up with. “he doesn’t, and i don’t.” you take a step towards him. “he likes mj.” it’s peter’s turn to be shocked. the hint of a smile sets on your lips. “that’s what we were talking about. harry asked if he should take her to dinner after the game, and i said yes.”

this is going better than he expected.

“mj is the one who likes him, not me,” you reiterate and watch some life enter peter again, a tiny bit. he’s coming around, and he wants to believe you. his trust issues don’t. “but, you’re so... touchy with each other. the hugging the other day?” he mentions. you tilt your head to the side in amusement. “friends can’t hug?”

to be fair, you hugged peter yesterday. that’s a point rightfully shut down.

“he calls you pretty,” peter tries, raising both eyebrows. you have to laugh at this one. “you call may pretty.”

obviously, peter’s analysis skills could use some serious improvements. it sounds like he had the right idea, wrong person. your relationship with harry is platonic. hell, he’s crushing on a whole different person. this actually opens up the possibility of you liking peter in the romantic way, of him being in the something more zone. he had it backwards.

in case peter isn’t convinced yet, and because you really want to, you use one more trick to prove to him you don’t like harry.

“do me and harry do this?” your lips speak for you, colliding with peter’s unexpectedly yet easily. he feels like he’s floating, like he’s in some sort of magical wonderland until it hits him that this is real, and he should probably kiss you back. he does so softly and tangles his fingers in your locks. his hand supports the back of your head as the kiss goes on.

you push forward so your bodies are almost fused together, the closest you can be while you hold his jaw. peter breaks the kiss for a short breather, going back in without more than a moment passing. this one is feverish, his free arm looping around your lower back, hand resting on the small of it. you let out a giggle against his swollen lips and stroke your thumb over his jawline.

he’s been waiting to do this for the longest time, but he doesn’t have to tell you that. it shows in how eager he was to reciprocate, his shyness blossoming into passion. you feel yourself melting under his touch, the kiss eventually becoming a series of short pecks. peter gives you the final one. his pink lips form a grin when you pull apart. your hands stay on each other, not in a rush to go anywhere.

“woah, i like you so much,” peter laughs out. the words roll off his tongue naturally. “you know i like you,” you drawl, smiling at him, a full body smile while you caress his skin. he winds both arms around you and dips his head down to steal another kiss. you’re loving what’s happening. however, you don’t feel like making out while dirty brooms stare at you. you should take this back home.

“wanna get out of here? i do,” you suggest, voice muffled from his lips. they detach from yours and brush your cheek gently. peter makes a funny face. “hm, i thought we had to come. harry needs us,” he says what you did yesterday, earning a groan back. “you’re joking.” “i’m not. what kind of friends would we be, ditching him like that?”

he’s going to end you one day.

“yeah, no. i have no idea how basketball works, and i’d like to keep it that way,” peter drops the act, pressing his fingers into your sides. “i’ve been so mean to harry. i was...” “a dick?” you finish for him. it’s more of a statement than a question. to soften the blow, you rub his cheek with the tips of your fingers. “yup. he’s gonna think i hate him or something if we don’t stay.” his formerly smiley face is frowning.

“harry of all people will understand after we tell him our reasons,” you reassure him, nudging under his chin with your nose. “besides, he has other things to worry about. mj, the scout. it’s fine.” peter considers it, ultimately giving in to you like he always does, resting his forehead on yours. “i guess so. less distractions for him, yeah.” “exactly. that’s what i wanna hear.”

having his approval, you unwind yourself from him and head to the door. his fingers wrap around your wrist gently. “what about my popcorn?” a giggle escapes your lips. “you’re still on that?” “you said all i can eat!” his voice comes out high pitched, adorably high pitched.

“fine. i might have those bags you put in the microwave.” you smile when his fingers lock with yours, peter kissing the side of your head.

“even better. let’s go home.”

[ava-achlys]

The Boyz NSFW Scenarios

Ju Haknyeon - Teach Me [Requested]

Request: Reader is experienced/bad girl and Haknyeon is innocent and wants to learn about sex. They meet at bible study.

virgin! Haknyeon x mean girl! reader

Warnings: corruption kink, losing virginity, underage sex, unprotected sex, mild humiliation, slight dubcon

Thanks for the request love, I hope you enjoy!💕 Also goes without saying, don't manipulate/coerce someone into doing sexual things if they're not ready or comfortable yet okay? The bad girl reader trope was requested 😅

Haknyeon is willing to learn, and who would make a better teacher than his crush, you?

You blink blearily, barely registering the pastor's teachings, and subtly stifle a yawn. You look around the room to find some sort of distraction and a certain boy catches your eye. Haknyeon is furiously scribbling in his notes, listening intently to the pastor. You scoff slightly at how earnest he looks, catching his attention. He glances over to you, meeting your eye and flushes pink as he shoots you a shy smile, before going back to scribble in his notebook. How cute.

Finally, the pastor dismisses your class, and you're the first one out the door. A patter of footsteps sounds behind you and Haknyeon appears, slightly out of breath. "Hey!" he beams, still rather pink in his cheeks. You nod curtly at him and continue walking. "Mind if I walk you home?" he chirps, still ever so cheerful despite your disinterest. You give a non-committal shrug, and he takes that as a yes, falling into step with you, babbling about everything, from what happened during class, to what he's going to have for lunch. You're barely listening, but you're watching him. Everyone at Sunday school (and your high school friends) knew he had a massive crush on you since middle school, but he was never very subtle about it to begin with.

High cheekbones, golden skin, sparkly clear eyes and full pink lips. He wasn't really your type, far too naive and innocent, but you suppose he was rather cute. Your eyes travel downwards, and nearly bulge out of their sockets. The dorky boy you knew as a pre-teen was barely recognizable. Instead, he'd grown much taller, shoulders broad and fuck, thick thighs and perky ass flaunted in his tight blue jeans. His white button-up was clinging to his broad frame, his strong biceps peeking through the translucent sleeves. You feel your heart skip a beat as you take it all in, wondering when exactly he changed and why you hadn't noticed it sooner.

"We're here! I hope you have a great day, I'll see you tomorrow at school?" Haknyeon grins, and you snap out of your shameless staring. You finally decide to humor him, and give him one of your most dazzling smiles. You brush your hand against his arm, and Haknyeon shivers, breath hitching as your fingertips graze against his skin, blushing an even deeper red. You thank him for walking you home, and shut the front door with a final wink, leaving Haknyeon speechless on your doorstep. You spend the rest of the afternoon thinking about how attractive he suddenly seems to you, hand slipping under your waistband, fingering yourself as your imagination went wild, picturing yourself underneath him and more. You hadn't gotten laid in a while, and now you've decided on your target; the cutie from Sunday School.

The next day at school you decide to mess with him a little. You linger at his desk to make small talk, his usual chatty and confident demeanor suddenly faltering now that you're giving him your full attention, keeping eye contact throughout the whole conversation. You continue this through the week, getting bolder each time. You'd plop into the seat next to him at lunch, you'd lean just a little too close to him when you talk, you'd walk home together, hands accidentally brushing against each other's. You enjoyed the way he gets all nervous and riled up just for you, sparking a new interest in the boy. All the boys you've been with before have been the popular jock type, typically dominant in bed. Haknyeon seemed like a nice change, the goofy but good-natured kid that everyone liked; meek, submissive and eager to please, just for you. You can't wait to play with him.

Friday afternoon finally rolls around and your grand plan is about to fall into place. Your friends shake their head wearily when you told them what you were going to do, but they're used to it by now. You catch him after school, which was easy considering he was waiting patiently for you, like a little puppy outside your classroom. You hook your arm around his and head home together like you have all week, and yet another round of pink dusts his cheeks when you touch him. You're almost home when you exclaim "Ah! I forgot to ask if I could borrow your notes for bible study! I wasn't paying attention at all last week, and I don't wanna get in trouble the next lesson," pouting cutely.

Haknyeon lights up, enthusiastically offering to let you copy his notes. "You can have mine! But they're at home, do you wanna come over?" He gushes, pausing when he realizes what he said. "O-or I could, uhh, send you the pictures of my notes tonight?" He stammers, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. You beam at him, like he's your hero, clutching his arm. "I'd love to come over, Haki! Thank you so much, you're a lifesaver," you croon, secretly enjoying the way Haknyeon turns crimson at the new nickname and skinship. You detour to his house and he leads you up to his bedroom, the empty house rather quiet except for the idle chat from the two of you.

He stands awkwardly as you enter his room, movie posters lining the walls and his books neatly arranged. "Would you like a soda? Cookies maybe? Make yourself at home, sit wherever you like! I'll go get my notebook," he rambles. You plop onto the edge of his bed, making yourself comfortable, patting the space next to you. "No need for that, Haki, thank you," you smile sweetly at him. He nods and starts looking around for his bible study notes, finally picking up the cute orange spiral notebook he always carries to bible study classes. He turns around, triumphantly holding the book, and promptly drops it when he sees what you're doing.

"W-what are you doing?" He whispers, his voice failing him as he gawks at you unbuttoning your blouse, exposing your lacy black bra. "Nothing, sweetie, why don't you come over here. Leave the book," you smile at him, beckoning him over with a crooked finger. Haknyeon walks over to you in a trance, his eyes never leaving your chest. He sits next to you as you take your blouse off and chuck it on the floor, pushing your chest out for him to take a good long look. You're gorgeous and you know it, and Haknyeon definitely thinks so. He gulps audibly and seems to snap out of it for a second. "Are you warm? I-i'll go turn on the AC!" he tries to get up but you pull him back down and into a fiery kiss.

He lets out a surprised squeak that quickly turns into a moan, eyss fluttering shut as you move your lips passionately against his, tongue licking into his parted lips. His hands are balled into clammy fists, not knowing where to put them. Blood is thundering through his veins; he can't believe his first kiss is with someone he'd been in love with for so long. His eyes remain shut as you pull away, wiping the spit from your lips, appreciating the dreamy look on his face. If he gets this much pleasure from a mere kiss, then you can't wait to see what happens later.

You caress his thighs with your hand, and he opens his eyes. Your fingertips dance across the muscles in his leg, hovering dangerously close to the tent in his pants. Haknyeon gasps, understanding what you're about to do, clutching your hand before it could wander any further. "N-no, we shouldn't be doing this..." he trails off in a terrified whisper. You turn cold immediately, feigning disappointment, and Haknyeon feels stabs of guilt when he shouldn't. "You don't like me anymore, Haki?" you pout, trying your best to sound hurt. His eyes turn round as saucers and he holds your hands close to his heart, his heartbeat thrumming beneath your touch. "No no! I still really like you, it's just... we're not supposed to do this until we get married right?" The sincerity in his voice and actions almost makes you give up the act and leave the boy alone. Almost.

You carress his cheek and give him your best puppy eyes. "But we're going to get married one day, so it shouldn't matter anyway, right?" you bat your eyelashes at him, watching his eyes light up at the mention of marriage. You almost scoff at his naivety but you have to keep up the act. His sweet innocence is making you wetter by the minute and you'll be damned if you screw up the opportunity to play with your new toy. "Please, Haki? I really like you..." your trembling lips and puppy eyes have him crumbling, his resolve and devotion to his Lord ebbing away in the face of temptation that is you, the girl of his dreams.

Haknyeon gulps and after a painstakingly long pause, he nods slowly. "Okay... but, do you know how?" Puzzled, you tilt your head. "How..?"

"I've never done this before," he mumbles, avoiding your eyes. You giggle and press a kiss to his cheek. "Silly boy, I'll teach you everything you want to know." He gasps when you dig the heel of your palm into his bulge. "Aah, it feels weird. Good, but weird." he whispers, shutting his eyes. "Never touched yourself before, baby?"

"N-no..."

"Really? Never jerked off thinking about me at night?" you tease, now slowly rubbing his growing bulge through his pants, causing him to tremble. He shakes his head shyly, soft moans falling from his lips. You unzip his pants and pull them down along with his boxers, just enough for his cock to spring free and your mouth waters at the sight. Thick, veiny, decently long and twitching with precum. "Fuck, baby look at you. Such a pretty cock. Am I the first girl to see it?" you trail a finger up his shaft and he bucks his hips, already too sensitive. He nods furiously and you giggle, finally grasping the base of his cock. "What an honor."

You slowly drag your fist up and down his shaft, and he lets out a lewd moan, throwing his head back. You kiss his neck and decide to grab his hand, making him close it into a fist around his length. You wrap your hand around his and guide it up and down just as you've been doing. "Open your eyes and watch, Haki. This is how you jack off, yknow, when I'm not there to help you," you smirk, twisting your wrist every so often. His bottom lip quivers as he jerks himself, slowly gaining confidence to take over and stroke himself faster, moaning loudly as you switch to playing with his balls instead, carressing and massaging them.

Haknyeon cums unexpectedly, some of it spilling onto his shirt, all over his hands and some on yours too. You dip your fingers in his cum and suck on them, making sure he's watching the way your tongue laps eagerly at the sticky fluid. He's panting so harshly he might pass out, so you hold him close, his face resting on the plushness of your breasts as you stroke his hair. A few moments pass and his heart rate steadies, and he plants a grateful kiss on your lips, before shyly rubbing his neck, an awkward question on his tongue. You sense it, and you convince him to ask. "So how do girls... masturbate then?" He mumbles. You laugh sofrly at his question, spreading your legs wide so he can see how wet your panties have gotten.

You take your panties and skirt off and start playing with yourself, middle finger toying with your clit before dipping into your folds. "I always pretend it's your cock inside me instead of my fingers, Haki, but I have to make do with what I've got." you drawl. You can't miss the way Haknyeon's eyes follow the movements of your fingers, rubbing yourself desperately pinching and flicking your swollen clit, moaning shamelessly just to rile him up. Indeed, he's hard again, cock standing proud against his soft tummy. "I'm really close baby, but I don't wanna cum without you," you whine. He licks his lips, his voice hoarse with excitement. "What do you want me to do?"

"Fuck me."

He wastes no time scrambling over to you, pressing his tip into your folds. You gasp, nails scratching at his arms at the sudden intrusion. "Fuck, fuck, wait baby you c-can't stick it all in at once- aaAHH!" you squirm as you feel every inch of his thick cock stretching you out, thrashing beneath him in a mix of pleasure and pain. Haknyeon hovers above you panting, gripping your hips as he slowly bottoms out, your walls clenching deliciously around him. You can feel your skin start to bruise with how hard he's pressing into your flesh, but you like it. "Mmmhh, you're so big, baby, stretching out my cunt like that. Gonna fuck me good? I'll teach you how, baby, don't worry," you smirk once you've adjusted to his size. He starts thrusting shallowly, and even that is toe-curling pleasure, the drag of his cock against your walls like ecstasy. He picks up speed with your encouragement, neither of you going to last long. He fucks you harder and faster, the wet sound of his balls slapping against your ass like music to your ears.

"F-fuck you're already so good at this, a natural, huh, baby? You learn s-so quickly, fucking me so good like the little - ah - fucktoy you are. How does my p-pussy feel after dreaming about it for so long?" your words stilted by the force of his thrusts. He sobs, actually grateful that he gets to have a taste of your pussy after loving you from afar for so long. "So good, you feel amazing, ahhh, thank you my love," he mewls as he pummels into you. "Make me cum first, Haki," you command. He nods shakily, biting his lip with the effort of staving off his orgasm that it's starting to bleed. You cum all over his cock screaming, almost forcing it out with how hard your pussy tightens. He whines, pulling out and roughly jerking himself off, shooting spurts of cum on your tummy, emptying his balls with a loud groan.

He collapses onto you, exhausted but grateful. Your head is spinning from (surprisingly) the best orgasm you've ever had, and your legs feel like jelly. At least you're looking forward to the pretty finger-shaped marks on your legs and hips to remind you of the fun you had today. Haknyeon is almost falling asleep on top of you so you push him away before he suffocates you. He grins dreamily at you, his eyes glassed over and looking thoroughly fucked out, euphoric that he lost his precious virginity to his first love. He looks so sweet and grateful that you almost feel bad for saying everything you had said to get him tl fuck you. Again, almost. You press another soft kiss to his lips and watch as his eyes flutter shut, a dopey smile on his lips as he falls asleep. You quickly clean up and get dressed, snatching up his orange notebook and sneaking out before his family got home, wincing at the soreness in your lower region.

Sunday comes around and you return Haknyeon his bible study notes with a wink, and he smiles brightly at you, completely forgiving you for leaving him to wake up alone, sweaty and covered in cum two days ago. He walks you home again after class, and again the next day after school, and the next day and the next. As much as you don't see a real future with Haknyeon, you decide to roll with it and keep him happy, as long as it promised you earth-shattering orgasms in the form of after school 'study sessions' or bathroom quickies during lunch.

~

Haknyeon knows. He knows you never truly liked him the way he loves you. He knows you're just using him for a good time, but he thinks, no, he hopes, that if he lets you do whatever you want with him, that maybe, just maybe, you'll start to like him too.

A/N: I think I got too carried away with this one too, sorry 😅 poor bb Haki ❤

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 6}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelb’s blogs! >> @snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

The week had passed by in a blur and by the time Saturday came, all Nesta wanted to do was sleep in. 

But she couldn’t.

Sleeping in wasn’t possible anymore. 

Her alarm had been set for seven, but she woke up with the sun peeking through her curtains at 6:45. She looked at the baby monitor on the nightstand. Nyx was still sound asleep in his crib.

With a groan, she covered her head with her pillow and tried to shut out the light, but it was no use. 

She was wide awake. 

May as well enjoy a cup of coffee before Nyx wakes up. Nesta tossed her legs over the side of the bed and tossed her robe over her pajama shorts and tank top. After pulling her long, golden-brown hair back, she was tiptoeing through the hall and down the stairs.

Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she could hear noise coming from the kitchen.

The sizzling of bacon being dropped into a skillet.

She had expected it to be Cassian, of course, but what she wasn’t expecting was what he was wearing.

Or, she supposed, what he wasn’t wearing. 

She wasn’t sure if she should go back upstairs, to give him privacy. But he was the one who had chosen to come downstairs like this, in one of the common areas of the house, so Nesta went ahead and walked into the kitchen. She aimed straight for the coffee pot, grateful to see a fresh pot already in the carafe. “Good morning.”

He turned towards her, that broad, muscular chest on full display, thanks to the white towel wrapped around his hips being the only thing he had on. “Morning, Nes. Hope you want breakfast.”

She continued to make her coffee, which was usually easy, considering it was one spoonful of sugar in black coffee, but she was having a distinctly hard time focusing on what she was doing.

She had seen Cassian without a shirt in before, at the few times they’d both been over to swim in Feyre and Rhysand’s pool, but there was something distinctly different about seeing him wearing a pair of swimming trunks and that towel. That towel that was sitting so low on his hips, she knew there could be nothing underneath it.

He didn’t even seem to notice, didn’t even seem to think about her reaction to him standing nearly nude in the kitchen, making breakfast. His hair was still wet, although the ends seemed to be drying. 

She wondered if this is what he looked like in a towel, what he would look like in the shower.

She quickly shook the thought away, even though it couldn’t help but linger in the back of her mind.

“I’ve got eggs, bacon, and toast,” he said, his back to her. She watched his muscles expand as he moved pans around and turned off the burners. “Simple, but it’ll fill you up. We’ll need all the energy we can this morning.”

Nesta cleared her throat and gave him a nod as he turned to face her. It was true, and Nesta was unexcited about it. The two of them would spend their day trying to find a part-time nanny for Nyx for the days that the two of them were both at work at the same time.

They’d had plenty of applicants, some of whom seemed promising. 

Nesta had her fingers crossed.

A plate was set down in front of Nesta, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at it. There was a smiley face made out of a bacon mouth and egg-eyes. Another plate was set in the middle of the table, piled high with toast and jam. 

“What am I, two?” she asked, gesturing to the breakfast face in front of her.

Cassian chuckled. His plate was piled high with bacon and eggs. No room for faces. He sat across from her and leaned on the table with his elbows. “A little smiley face never hurt anybody.”

She said nothing, just picked up her fork and cut into the eggs. She hadn’t even told him she liked her eggs over-medium, but she was glad she did as the semi-runny yolk spilled out onto her plate. Nesta thought about starting something about it, about asking about food preferences before he assumed something, but it was too early and she hadn’t gotten to enjoy nearly enough of her cup of coffee. It was too early to fight. So instead she picked up a crispy piece of bacon and used it to pick up some of the egg, before popping it into her mouth.

Her eyes slipped closed and she tried not to moan.

How could a simple breakfast taste so damn good?

When she opened her eyes again, she assumed she hadn’t been completely successful in stopping her appreciative noises, because he was smirking at her as he brought his own coffee to his lips.

“Told you I make a mean breakfast,” he said, reaching for a piece of toast and slathering it in blackberry jam.

Clearing her throat, she ignored him and continued eating until her plate was completely empty. Just as she was about to get up to rinse it off, he stood, adjusting that damn towel to fit more snuggly around his hips, and picked up both of their plates. She tried her best not to watch the muscles shift in his back as he rinsed the plates and loaded them into the dishwasher. Tried her best, but found herself staring as she sipped from her coffee cup, but snapped herself out of it and got up as well, making Nyx a bottle for when he woke up.

As she shook the formula up, she asked, “Will you be putting clothes on before the applicants get here, or should I warn them this is going to be a clothes-optional interview?”

He glanced at her over a shoulder, as he began to clean the pan he’d cooked the bacon and eggs in, but turned right back to the sink. “Does my nakedness bother you, Nes?”

Damn him, she could hear the smirk in his voice.

“No,” she snapped. “And stop calling me that.”

“So, you like me in a towel, then?” he went on, turning the sink off as he put the final plate in the drain rack.

“You’re exhausting, you know that?” she asked, turning to face him full on.

He turned to her then, one brow raised as he ran a hand through his nearly-dried hair. “I’m just saying, if it bothers you, I’ll be sure to dress before I come down to slave away for you over the stove. But, if it doesn’t bother you, I have to admit that I like to completely dry before I put on clothes.”

No, it didn’t bother her.

No, she didn’t mind having her breakfast with a view.

No, she wouldn’t mind reaching out and feeling just how hard and defined his abs really were.

No, she would never admit to that.

Instead, she raised her chin and said, “I should wake Nyx up so he’s ready before the first applicant arrives.”

“So formal,” he grinned. “And here I thought we were having a nice, pleasant morning.”

A soft cry came from upstairs and she was immediately in motion, all thoughts of those abs and whether or not water from his shower would well in the defined divots of them gone. Snatching up the bottle she’d set on the counter, she turned and headed for the living room and the stairs beyond. “Put some clothes on,” was all

she called back to him as she hurried for Nyx’s nursery.

*

Nesta shut the front door, falling back against the wood, listening as the final interview made her way down the cobblestone walkway.

She sighed and made her way into the kitchen. She needed a glass of wine.

A bottle of wine was more like it, but a glass would do for now.

She found Cassian already standing behind a chair at the kitchen table, the resumes of each applicant spread out before him. “So,” she said, reaching into the fridge for the bottle of chilled, white wine. “What did you think?”

He blew out an equally exhausted breath, before shaking his head. “There was…a lot of variety.”

He was right. There was a woman who had to be in her seventies, who had brought an entire notebook of lesson plans, with her goal to have the one-year-old fluent in French before his third birthday. Then there was the thirteen-year-old who had lied about her age on the application, but promised she could ride her bike the mile and a half from her house every day they needed her. Just not until after three on school days.

“Too much variety,” she agreed. “That last woman was so boring she literally put Nyx to sleep.”

It was true. Nyx was currently sound asleep in the middle of his playmat in the living room, surrounded by his toys. 

“I didn’t mind the retired librarian,” Nesta said, filling her wine glass to the brim. 

Cassian scrunched his nose. “She smelled weird.”

Nesta scoffed. “I don’t think Nyx will be minding her smell. She was smart and was obviously good with him.”

“So was Viviane,” Cassian said, picking up an application off the table.

Nesta blinked. “Viviane?”

“Yeah, Viviane,” he said, showing her the application. “Smart. Bachelors in early childhood education. Lives three miles down the road.”

“Young, blonde, hot,” Nesta added, taking a drink.

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “So you do remember her.”

“I remember that she didn’t have near enough experience and she only listed one reference,” Nesta replied, taking the application and resume from him. She looked it over again. “She can’t be more than twenty-two years old.”

“What does her age have to do with it?” He asked, leaning down on the chair and looking at her. “She’s got good qualifications and Nyx loved her. She was one of the few he actually laughed and wanted to play with.”

It was true, he’d been extremely uncomfortable around most of the applicants. He cried the second a couple of them looked at him and had even spit up on one of them. But he had giggled with Viviane and genuinely seemed to like her.

“She hasn’t worked at a legit daycare or anything, but she’s been a one-on-one nanny before,” Cassian pointed out, as Nesta was reading the same thing on her copy of the resume. “And she said she could get us the numbers of her previous families. She just didn’t want to give them out without asking permission.” He smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sounds like she’d respect our privacy, too. But go ahead, keep thinking of reasons she’s not a good candidate.”

Aside from her perky tits and ass, I can’t think of any. The words almost came from her lips, but Nesta ground her teeth.

“We have to agree on someone, and Viviane can start immediately,” Cassian continued. 

Nesta stared at him for a moment.

He stared back, watching as she sipped from her glass. “I swear to the Mother, Cassian, if you fuck the nanny-.”

Cassian barked an unamused laugh. “You think I have absolutely no self control, don’t you?”

“I think you’re basing this choice off of what you want, not what Nyx needs,” she said, not breaking their eye contact.

“She may be hot, but fucking her would be a lot more trouble than it’s worth,” he admitted. “And Nyx is half Rhys. Don’t forget that. He liked to appreciate pretty things just as much as I do, and I’m sure Nyx will, too.”

Scoffing, Nesta set her glass down and went into the living room to get Nyx. “He’s a baby, not a grown man, with raging hormones. You’re disgusting.” She picked him up, still fast asleep from hearing about the nuances of the differences in a sitter and nanny from the old crone they’d spoken with last. “Call Viviane, let her know she starts tomorrow at eight.”

Cassian met her on the stairs. “I don’t work tomorrow, I can watch him.”

Nesta shrugged, but continued up, carrying a drooling Nyx to his nursery. She hadn’t noticed how close to his nap time it had gotten. “Think of it as an exercise in self-control then, and a test run. See how she does with Nyx and see if you can keep your dick to yourself.”

“I’ve kept it from you pretty easily, haven’t I?” 

Nesta refrained from responding as she carried Nyx into the nursery and laid him down, cracking the door open behind her as she left. Walking back downstairs, she retrieved her wine, purposefully ignoring him, though she felt his eyes on her the whole time. She wouldn’t answer his question, was doing her best not to think about it, especially compounded with memories of him this morning.

She had no idea the muscles leading down by the hips could really be so defined. She thought the illustrious V that dragged your eye downwards on most male models was photoshopped in. Cassian, though, very much proved it not only existed, but that it was as distracting as she’d imagined it could be.

“I’m taking a bath,” she announced, heading back for the stairs. “Let Viviane know she got the job, but she can start whenever you want. If you’ll be off tomorrow, we don’t need to pay her to be here.”

She didn’t wait for his reply, and was in her room with the door shut a few seconds later. She took her time filling the bathtub with the things she found under the counter. There were oils and salts and bubbles and soaps, and by the time Nesta settled into the bubbly, warm water, the entire bathroom smelled like a spa. She sipped her wine, refusing to let her mind wander back to Cassian that morning, but by the time her glass was empty, her head was swimming and the water had begun to go cold.

She got out of the tub, watching as the water swirled down the drain and began toweling off.

And then, she had an idea, to give Cassian a taste of his own medicine.

She grabbed a clean, fluffy, white towel and wrapped it around her chest. And then she headed down to the kitchen for a refill.

Cassian was lying on the couch, one arm tossed behind his head, the other using the remote to flip through the stations on the TV.

He caught Nesta the moment her feet appeared at the top of the stairs.

Nesta’s heartbeat a little bit faster with every step she took.

“This is a new look for you,” Cassian said, simply, even though his voice had lowered an octave since the last conversation they had. “Especially considering you took the master bedroom so that you had your own private bathroom to avoid such run-ins with me.”

Nesta tossed her long, wet hair over her shoulder. “I figured it was okay since you’ve made it perfectly clear that you have no desire to crawl into bed with me. I deemed it safe territory.”

The glass still dangled between her fingers and she heard the couch creak as she turned the corner into the kitchen. She may have grabbed a towel that wasn’t quite as wide as the rest of them, one that didn’t quite come as far down her thighs. But if he wanted to prance around in nothing but his skin, she could do the same.

They were both adults. She had no interest in sleeping with him - so she told herself, at least - and he’d said he had no interest in her.

She poured what was left of the bottle in her glass and threw it into the trash with a clunk. She hadn’t realized she had so little left, but was fairly sure another bottle was in the wine cabinet.

Which was in the living room.

When she re-entered the living room, the volume on the TV was nearly silent and Cassian was sitting up, rather than laying down. One arm was draped across the back of the couch and the other still clutched the remote.

She could feel his eyes on her and she took another drink before reaching around the back of the cabinet for the key and unlocking it.

Not only did she grab another bottle of her favorite wine, but also a good bottle of whiskey, too.

“Planning on getting wasted?” He asked, quietly. 

“Just stocking up,” she replied, locking the cabinet behind her. “Care for a glass?”

Cassian looked around the room, as if she would be talking to anyone else other than her. “Sure.”

“Whiskey, I assume?” she asked, going back into the kitchen for another glass. 

The television was a little bit louder when she returned, but not by much.

She sat on the opposite end of the couch, and set the glasses on the coffee table in front of them. After retrieving the glass bottles, she poured.

Cassian remained perfectly quiet as she did so. 

“Is this a truce?” he asked, as Nesta held the glass out toward him.

“This is a celebratory drink to commemorate finding a nanny today,” Nesta said, although her voice held no warmth. “No matter how young and inexperienced and doomed-to-fail she is.”

She held up her wine glass.

Cassian snorted as he clinked his glass against hers.

She wasn’t paying any attention to whatever he had playing on the TV, and she had a feeling he didn’t either, not as she could feel his stare burning into her. Enough so that she crossed her legs, unintentionally causing the towel to raise even higher attention on the outside of her thigh. It almost exposed her entire hip, which she wasn’t anticipating, but she had made the decision to come down here, to tease him by showing him what he had done to her. She wouldn’t let him see how much his gaze was affecting her.

Even if it was just the wine.

Or so she told herself.

She was just about to stand, to make some excuse for going upstairs when he set his glass down on the coffee table and cleared his throat.

“New house rule. Clothes are required in the common areas. Kitchen, living room, dining room,” he said, ticking them off one by one. “Bedrooms and bathrooms are the only places where this is allowed.”

He gestured towards her, without looking, to make sure his point was understood.

“Why?” She asked innocently, and then she threw his own words back into his face. “Does my nakedness bother you, Cass?”

“Quite the opposite,” he admitted, adjusting himself.

Nesta pretended she didn’t notice.

“I thought you had no issue keeping yourself in check with me,” Nesta said, her voice low. “I thought you weren’t some untamed male with raging hormones.”

“I’m not,” he said, reaching to refill his glass. “At least, not until a beautiful woman is sitting a foot away from me, soaked, in a towel, pouring me whiskey.”

“I’m not soaked,” she said, without thinking it through. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

When Cassian looked at her, he grinned, but his eyes were dark. “I meant your hair.”

Nesta knew her plan had immediately backfired, either that or she’d had far too much to drink, so she simply nodded and stood heading back for the staircase.

“Nes?”

She turned back to look at him, halfway up the staircase.

He was smirking, that glass of whiskey resting on the arm of the couch. “If you ever do find yourself soaked, you know where to find me.”

She was up the stairs and slamming her door in a flash, trying to ignore his quiet laughter.

[an-0ni]

𝐸𝑛ℎ𝑦𝑝𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑦𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑡 𝑠/𝑜! ✨

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙭𝙩: 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙨/𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 / 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙙𝙚𝙡!

𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀: 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙨/𝙤 (𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙣)

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗮 𝗯𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲?

𝗖𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗴𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀: 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳 ☘︎︎

Lee Heeseung

(You are an artist who specializes in greek mythology or tarot cards)

☀︎︎ Is fascinated with your art skills and level! 🤩

☀︎︎ He admires you like a whole lot! He likes to watch the whole progress or sometimes just you because he feels at ease whenever he's with you ☺️

☀︎︎ He supports you a whole lot! He would put up all of your art works on his wall or even on his phone case and would probably do more mirror selfies

(just to show your amazing art & how supportive he is)

𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢...

You were scrolling through Pinterest, currently on a hunt on what or who you could draw. Suddenly, a bright idea popped in your mind!

" What about Heeseung but he is a Tarot card? or better yet, a Greek god!"

Yeah that was exactly it! You immediately searched for Greek god poses and who would best fit Heeseung.

(btw did you guys saw the Scylla concept photos? ㅠㅠ)

"Hmm..."

You tried to copy the reference onto the paper as the pencil danced with the blank flat surface. Just then, Heeseung entered but quickly noticed on how

quiet it was. He gracefully stepped onto the wooden planks that was soon muffled by a soft carpet. He slowly pulled out another chair & watched you.

You were so immersed onto the drawing, carefully putting details of Heeseung as if he was a piece of perfection. Heeseung was caught off-guard but just quietly

chuckled & rested his head onto his wide palm.

"Would Heeseung like this...? I'm having second thoughts but ihh- I gotta finished what I started!"

Ahhh there it is, you and your rants to yourself...

☀︎︎ He honestly doesn't mind when you draw him at any concept, it honestly just makes his jaw drop like 😮 because of how good you make him look

☀︎︎ Since you tend to arch your back which causes your shoulders & back to ache, he gives you massages! Not offers! (and no buts or else he'll insist 😡)

☀︎︎ He honestly finds it adorable whenever you rant to yourself... Sometimes he would be your serotonin boost just so you can finish it!

Finally, it was time for line art... You quickly grabbed your iPad to capture and do it right away. Heeseung stared in awe, not knowing that you could also do that!

You were a bit frustrated but managed to finish the line art until Heeseung points out some missing details and offered something that caught your attention.

"Can I try?" He looked up and stared at your shining eyes which caused you to turn your head to him.

"Yeah sure!" You lend him the pen and switched places until- he figured that it was hard...

"How can you do this baby?! My hand is shaking so much... ㅠㅠ" He pouts and whines as you laugh beside him as you quickly rushed to help him. 🤣

It was honestly just an excuse to see but he was generally curious on how you do it and tried to learn the process of it. Which- lead to some art tips and quickie

art lessons

Few days passed, and the art was done! It was nicely printed and rendered. The details were so fine and the main art was beautiful! Heeseung was so happy &

jumpy to the point you laugh at his childishness.

"Baby it looks so good! The details are so cool!" He held up the piece and stared in awe but carefully not to ruin the perfection you had created. 🥺

"And it's all because of your visuals Hee baby..."

You gently wrapped your arms on his waist and kissed his lips as he reciprocated the offer back, holding you so

close and sharing a very wholesome kiss. As your affectionate boyfriend whisper compliments and sweet nothings on your ear and swayed you. 🥰

☀︎︎ Expect him to show of your art to his members and family... He would go "Look guys! My amazing girlfriend drew me so handsomely!" and of course he would

have a cocky smile plastered on his face as if he just won a show... 😗

☀︎︎ In conclusion, Hee is your #1 fan and he likes to support you no matter what!! ☺️

Park Jeongseong / Jay Park

( You are an artist who specializes in vampire / sexy concepts ooohhh 😏)

☀︎︎ He doesn't really care on what or who you draw. If you want to draw him, he's ready to pose for you!

☀︎︎ Just like Heeseung, he would stare at you or the watch the process but he'll try to make small conversations at some point of your drawing.

"It looks so good baby. 😍"

☀︎︎ He would help you by pointing out some flaws or help you with the posing, that is his offer because he wants to make it easier for you. aww ☺️

𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚... 𝙎𝙝𝙚𝙚𝙨𝙝

Since it was October and of course, the spirit of Halloween 🎃 roamed around the world. You & Jay would either go trick or treat or watch horror movies while cuddled up and embracing to each others' warmth

You were in the mood to draw Jay but with a mixed of him being a vampire. You put much more effort onto the details and sketching which you could hear the pencil just tap onto the screen as your left fingers cooperated with the shortcuts. That's when you realized, who is gonna take position of the girl? Honestly, you have no idea... Maybe you can ask Jay on how it should look like?

Yeah! That should do.

You quickly rushed to him, footsteps thumping onto the soft carpet floor. As he turns to the source of sound only to find you panting in and out like you just saw

a rat.

"What's wrong dear?"

As he stood up and walked to your area as you abruptly grabbed his hands and lead him to your humble abode. Curiosity plastered from head to toe and looks at

your screen which turned on the screws and nuts and bolts on his head.

"What should the girl look like? Please do tell so I can draw her! It can be your ideal type, just some random-"

You were cut off when he cupped your face with his hands, which caused the both of you to have a staring contest.

" Why not draw yourself hmm?"

As he stared at your lips and back to your eyes as you tried to avert and move away which he did as he stared & waited for your response, crossing his muscular

arms.

"Well- I never really insert myself when it comes to these since it might either look bad or it seems that I'm a bit selfish...?"

You wandered as the words drifted from your mouth as he grabbed your chin and kissed you. Of course you thought it was innocent until he sucked your neck

and marked you a purple-red hue bruise...

"Honey why?!"

As you burst into a confused, giggly fit as he swayed and hugged you with a wide smile onto his face. Honestly just the both of you laughing at nothing.

"Just a reference for you to picture in mind and no you are not selfish darling... We're selfish for each other remember...?"

☀︎︎ He would always reassure you that it'll look good along with quick kisses and pecks!

☀︎︎ He would stare at awe whenever you draw because you look so pretty and cute!! 😚

☀︎︎ Would personally deliver you snacks or drinks whenever he notices you haven't eaten yet. He sometimes feed you with his cooked meals which- distracts you

(What do you expect?! He is a good boyfie who knows how to cook! ㅠㅠ)

Once it was done, you handed the book to him and oh my god his face went 😳 to 😏 and 🥰 because he loves it so much!! He wanted to recreate it at one of

his Halloween photshoots but you declined...

☀︎︎ He would buy a binder for your artworks and even try to make it a book scrapping with notes saying "Halloween when my gf tried to draw me hehe" with hearts

all over and more encouraging and compliments!

☀︎︎ Of course he would try to be slick and autograph either one of the artworks or the cover and keep it forever 🥰 plus he either wants to frame it with 24k gold or

sealed with one of the most expensive sealers 💀

"Babe you don't have to-"

"No. It's precious 🥺"

☀︎︎ In conclusion, He is the best bf you can ever imagine!

Sim Jaehyun / Jake Sim

(You are an artist that specializes in Shoujo style HSHSHSH👹)

☀︎︎ Of course the caring boyfriend that everybody loves...

☀︎︎ If you ever need help just say the word! You want some voiceovers for the male cast? Boom, there goes him and his members. You want some help in the story or some dialogues? Boom, he goes correct any errors or stories.

☀︎︎ You're pretty much content with your dates because you, him and Layla in your safe abode spending time together? Pretty much a 📈📈📈 for Jake because you and Layla together? God expect him to take so many pics.

☀︎︎ Layla also sometimes tap you to remind you to eat or be healthy if ever Jake is working overtime.

☀︎︎ You guys would spend a LOT of time just making fun of the cast or the dialogues... but hey! You guys are pretty serious when it comes to the real business...

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩...

As the members prepared for the voiceovers, you of course were there to see the process. You had a tiny bit of experience voice acting due to making voices impressions of characters. Jake kept fiddling his fingers while everyone else is so focused. You never thought that Jake, your very soft boyfie who can absolutely destroy you in less than an hour, would be this nervous.

"Why are you so nervous dear? If you're very nervous, you can't do it well so relax first okay?"

You comforted & reassured Jake and that made him much more calm and less fidgety. That's what he needs. Reassurance from you & the pleasant warmth of your body.

Few months passed after the release of a mini comic, it was now Valentines day...

Well you decided to give it all but to your expectations- it did go well! sorta...

"How do you make this without Jake noticing... Hmmm..."

Ideas were flying out the window but this one captured your mind.

"How about the voice clips along with some manga panels and a drawing for him? Yeah that's good!"

You quickly hurried to your safe place and created it right away. Sketching you, him & Layla. Spending happy times along with polaroids hanging together.

Valentine's is here but to your surprise- Jake wasn't there... You looked everywhere but to your dismay he wasn't there...

"Maybe he's working? But- Nevermind more time to prepare!"

You quickly set the negative thinking and commanded Layla to follow & to surprise Jake which- surprised you on how quick she understands...

(Dogs are smart 👁👄👁)

Few hours passed and you heard the door clicked. You tried to contain your laughing fits and Layla is here, waiting by your side.

"Baby! I'm here!"

Huh confusing... by now the both of you should be hugging and talking but you weren't there. So- of course it was a game of hide & seek. Bringing some treats

for Layla and art supplies with paper flowers to unfold for you along with your favorite chocolate. He quietly stepped onto the wooden tiles and made his way

to your peaceful abode and-

"Happy Valentine's Day my Jake!"

You stood up while Layla went to her owner real quick and he stood there, dumbfounded 🧍🏻. Quickly, he gave you the gifts and you made him a video

presentation on which you played in your shared bedroom. Layla behaved like a good girl and it was pretty calming... Your voice? The drawings? Polaroids?

God please save him because he looks like he's about to cry in any moment...

"Ah! The drawing for you. Happy Valentines again my dear Jake..."

You pecked his forehead and kissed him on the cheeks while Layla wanted to fit in to kiss his beloved owner too

☀︎︎ Valentines day is very much fun along with other events such as Christmas etc.

☀︎︎ So he always kept the gifts with a treasure box because it's from you! He wants to protect it a whole lot! (Just a simple touch and expect him to be pouty

mad)

☀︎︎ Honestly, it was the best moment of his life. Spending life events with you along with Layla is the best thing in his life and he would support you no matter what!

Park Sunghoon

(You are an artist who specializes in fantasy genres [specifically royal alternate universes]👸🏻🤴🏻)

☀︎︎ Expect him to boast your drawings...like a WHOLE LOT.

☀︎︎ Would constantly remind your meals and how beautiful you look!

"You look cute..."

☀︎︎ Whenever your hair is in the way, he would help you style your hair! You got long hair? He'll do braids, buns, twin tails, ponytails! Short hair? He will pin it to the side with his favorite bobby pins! (y'know those with like flower pendants or any shape? yeahh) and he would swipe your rear hair away just so he can see your cute face

☀︎︎ Since he is an ice skater, you would always draw him like an ice prince or something that involves with royalty themes. Kings, Princes, Dukes? You name it!

☀︎︎ Fans would notice that there are so many drawings of him hunged up on his wall lolol

☀︎︎ Also your biggest fan! He would constantly stare at it with a huge smile plastered onto his face, he would even post it on his feed with a caption

"So pretty ☺️❤️"

But of course... 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚

In your tiktok for you page, you kept hearing the Tangled festival theme and you can't get it out of your head! It's like a toy train going in circles! Not that it was bad... You were trying to draw Sunghoon, your Ice Prince penguin. You thought it was a nice idea to do it while dancing with you! His Ice Princess! So of course, You drew him in his Border; Carnival Prince outfit while- you were struggling to find dresses for you...

"Sunghoonie!"

You called his name and you can hear his gentle footsteps up until he stopped by at the door frame of your workspace. Walking to your direction as he pulls out a chair to sit beside you.

"Yes my beautiful Ice princess?"

As he left a quick kiss on your forehead as he patted your head and smiled at you and you never forget to reciprocate it too

"I'm having- troubles... with the dress."

You tapped your pencil on the blank surface of the female's body which was elegantly posed next to your precious boyfriend. Analyzing on what could it look like, he shared on what could look appealing next to him.

"Why not the top has flowy sleeves and the skirt has a corset belt and has a nice flow of the dress? It could also look nice if the shoes have a bit of heels!"

Wow... His imagination never fails you! I mean- he is a fashionista! So of course, thanking your ice prince with a quick kiss before he stands up and kiss your forehead. It never fails to give you the butterflies.

Imagining the song playing and the flow of your bodies dancing along with the background characters, you hum along to the song. Dabbing your kneaded eraser, you swept the eraser shavings away as you prepared your 2 jars of water and your brushes with your paint and mixing palette aside. You are now ready to go color the dull paper and bring it to life!

After few many hours of patience, it was only the lineart left. You carefully lined it with so many pens to fit the colors and ta-da~! You are now done! It was so pleasing to look at. Smiling to yourself, you brought the drawing and hid it to him.

"Just in time dear! I made us dinner and- what are you hiding~?"

He removed the mittens and you walked up to him to show the finished painting. You never fail to capture the stars in his eyes. It was so pretty... With a hug, he thanked you a whole lot!

But of course, you ate your food before it gets cold...

☀︎︎ Sunghoon will always be there for you to help whenever it comes to fashion or looks!

(Can someone find me a Park Sunghoon joke-)

[calummss]

The Draught Of Secret Affection | Harry Potter

masterlist

summary: you are best friends with ron and spend most of your time together, but it seems that someone is envious of what you two share

words: 1.5K

requested by: @frost-queen

a/n: re-uploading

Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry has been your home for almost six years. Never in a million years would you have thought this place to feel so much like home than it has. You vividly remember your mum handing you the Platform 9¾ ticket, and running through the King’s Cross Station wall. When the train finally left the station, all compartments were full and there was no free seat in sight, until you came across two boys.

‘Do you mind?’ you asked. ‘Everywhere else is full.’

‘Not at all.’ the black haired boy smiled, scooting over.

You sat down next to him. ‘My name’s Y/N Y/L/N.’

‘I’m Ron Weasley.’

‘And I’m Harry. Harry Potter.’

And that’s how you met them. Harry and Ron have been your closest friends since, though you’d say you were a bit closer to Ron. You did everything together: copied each other’s homework (which earned you a ‘Hermione side-eye’, studied, went to Hagrids etc. You were inseparable since day 1.

———

‘Hey Y/N, wait up!’ you heard Ron call after you. ‘Looks like we’re both late for Potions.’ he snickered.

‘That would be correct Ronald and I’m trying to not make it later than we already are.’

The two of you were scurrying down the empty hallways trying to get to Snape’s dungeon in time; which was useless because when you stepped down the dusty stairwell, you could see that all students had already entered the classroom.

‘Oh for god’s sake.’ you cursed.

You knocked on the old wooden door and opened it to see Professor Snape already starting with their lesson.

‘Nice of you two to finally join us. Tell me—where you trying to be punctual or did you just decide to cut time on your Potion?’

‘I’m so sorry Professor.’ you said.

Ron was quiet. This would get him in trouble…, you forcefully but unobtrusively stepped on his foot earning a small yelp.

‘Yes Professor, we really didn’t mean to.’ he winced out in pain.

You scanned the dungeon to see Harry waiting at your usual seats. You gave him a quick but confused smile, moving your lips to mouth ‘thank you’.

‘I suppose you’ll be able to find your seats, Ms Y/L/N and Weasley…’

‘Yes Professor.’ you both muttered before wiggling your way through the back row.

You grabbed your book and quill, and placed them onto the table, grinning.

‘What?’ Ron asked.

‘Nothing, I just thought it was funny.’

The two of you shared a laugh before you noticed Harry staring.

‘Is there something on my face, Harry?’

‘Oh, no…, I’m sorry I just zoned out I guess.’ he smiled, turning his body towards the front of the class.

Something has been off with Harry for weeks and you had no idea why. He looked angrier than usual. You suspected it to be because Dumbledore but you weren’t too sure. Who knows what he was dealing with.

‘Now in the next two weeks we’ll be making the Draught of Living Death. I’ve decided to make this a partner project, meaning you may choose your partners. At the end of the lesson you’ll bring the potion to my desk and name your partner. Any questions? No? Good. Start working.’

You lowered your head to the desk in annoyance, ‘Oh come on. The Draught of Living Death? Couldn’t we make something nice like ‘Amortentia’? Does Hogwarts always have to be this dark?’

You stared over at Ron with thin lips. Ron stood up and walked towards the potions cabinet grabbing everything the two of you would need.

‘Do you want to be partners?’ Harry hesitated.

‘Sorry Harry, I’m already working with Ron. Maybe you could ask Hermione. I’m sure she’s a way better partner than I am.’

‘Yeah, ask Hermione.’ he muttered to himself, getting up and waddled to Hermione with all his belongings.

‘What was that about?’ Ron reappeared with full arms.

Carefully placing the items onto the chair, you grabbed the cauldron and started lining up the ingredients.

‘I don’t know.’ you shrugged, glancing over to Hermione and Harry, who quickly looked away. ‘I didn’t say anything wrong did I?’

‘Not to my knowledge no.’

‘Well we better start working, otherwise Snape will have another reason to hate us.’ you huffed, grabbing the infusion of Wormwood.

You continued your potion until class was over. Ron was out the door in a second, leaving you to bring the potion to Snape. You quickly said both your and Ron’s names and headed outside to the courtyard with Harry, Ron and Hermione waiting.

‘Are we ready to go to Hagrids then?’ you smiled, trotting over the wet plaster stones.

‘Actually,’ Hermione stepped forward. ‘I was thinking that Ron and I could go to Hagrids and help him out, whilst you and Harry could continue to find some stuff on potions in the library?’

Harry’s head turned to Hermione in an instant.

‘Okay, well, are you sure?’ you chewed your lip.

‘Yes, yes, now go. We need the information at dinner time.’

And with that they left. You stared at your feet, feeling awkward. It seemed like Harry wasn’t fond of you. Maybe he d-

‘Coming?’ Harry snapped you out of your thoughts.

‘Of course.’ you smiled again, catching up with him.

Harry and you spent the afternoon in the back row of the library. Every once in a while the two of you let out a rather loud laugh, causing Ms Pince to snap at you.

‘Hey Y/N.’

‘Yes?’ your eyes glanced up from the big book you were currently invested in.

‘I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner today.’

You tilted your head. ‘We always sit together, Harry.’ you chuckled. ‘Do you want to trade places with Ron?’

‘No, not like that,’ he started. ‘I mean, if I could organise a dinner for just us, would you be interested in coming?’

‘I mean, yes of course. Is there any reason ‘why’ or…?’

‘I just thought it could be fun.’

‘I like the idea, do I get to know when and where?’

‘Meet me outside the kitchens at 6:30pm. I’ll be waiting for you there.’

You gave him a bright smile and continued your reading, head buzzing with questions about the weird conversation you were just engaged in.

You soon finished your reading and headed to the common room, stomach churning. You had no idea what to expect. You’ve always had a fondness for Harry but never would you have thought that he would ask you out on a date. Well, he didn’t say ‘date’ but it sounded like it. I mean which pair of friends eat dinner alone? Specifically asking not to eat with the others? You were sure something was going to happen. Your mind pondered with questions until you checked the time. 6:25pm—SHIT. You sprinted across the common room, down the stairwells and through the corridors to see Dobby standing in front of the door.

‘Dobby? Where’s Harry?’ you turned your head in every possible direction. Still panting you placed your hands onto your knees trying to catch your breath.

‘He’s inside waiting for you.’ his high pitched voice cheered.

He opened the door and through the dimly lit room you were able to see Harry standing in front of a set dinner table.

‘Did you do all this?’ you scanned the room in amazement.

‘Yeah.’

He sat you down and poured you a drink before sitting down himself.

‘Actually,’ he stared into the bottom of his goblet. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’

You nodded. At this point you had no idea what was about to happen.

‘I’ve been meaning to tell you this since second year, but you always hang out with Ron, I barely had a chance to do this properly…’

‘Harry, what on earth are you trying to tell me? You don’t like Ron anymore? But I thought he wa-‘

‘No! What? Of course not! It’s about you.’

‘About me? What have I done?’ you furrowed your eyebrows.

‘God,’ Harry mumbled under his breath.‘It’s not that.’

‘Not what?’

‘I like you, okay!’ Harry blurted.

You said nothing.

‘I’ve liked you for four years now, and I can’t pretend like I don’t feel anything, but you’re always around Ron and you barely pay attention to me when he’s around. Besides, you know Ron...he likes to make fun of me and I just needed this (he scans the room with his eyes) to be serious.’

‘Harry, I don’t know what to say,’

‘You don’t have to say anything, it’s stupid a-‘

‘Harry! Please let me finish!’

Harry sat back in his chair, trying to ease himself.

‘I thought you stopped liking me because of how you acted the past weeks, and it was so unlike you, but I understand now. You are jealous.’

Harry opened his mouth but you stopped him before he could say anything.

‘And before you interrupt me again.’ you stated, getting up from the chair and walking towards Harry. ‘I like you too.’

Harry’s went wide and his cheeks glowed a pale pink.

‘You do?’

‘I do.’

You placed your hands on his face and pulled him into a kiss. The kiss was soft, yet full with energy. You broke the kiss and stared into his blue eyes.

‘I do.’

[weirdlittlecorner]

Lin Kuei Hospitality: Sektor

Notes: nsfw, 18+, rough, dominant MC

Plot: Sektor gets on a lot of people's nerves. Nothing a little cloth can't fix

Tags: @lilliannmac @onesillybeach @icy-spicy

__

It was an easy choice. Once the Grandmaster had given you the go-ahead to pick your gift, your eyes instantly settled on the most curious of the men. The one who took to copying the monarch himself. You were attracted to that long, black hair and the bulging muscles. But what really solidified your choice was that face of his. Or, rather, the expression on it. The other men had kept their expressions neutral, their gazes fixated ahead of them as you made your rounds. But when you had passed over the man in red, he took it as an invitation to conduct an exam of his own. His brown eyes trailed you when you came near as if you were a gift for him. And that tiny smirk that he gave you didn’t help his case, either.

A spark of feistiness flared within you as you returned the judgemental gaze, “I suppose you’ll do,” You snapped.

The tension in the room was tangible. The others were amused by your standoff with who you would soon come to find out was the spoiled brat of the clan. Your target huffed, turning toward the Grandmaster as if seeking assistance. But he was only met with a stern warning from the older man, “Miss L/n is our guest. You will not disappoint me, Sektor,”

It was hard to keep a straight face as the overgrown child- Sektor- crumbled under the Grandmaster’s words, “Of course not, Father,” Father? It all made sense now. The similar clothing, and more notably, the arrogance. Being the child of the closest thing to royalty would surely go to anyone’s head. He clearly had some sort of attitude problem and needed a lesson in humility. You would happily oblige.

After the impromptu scolding, the younger man turned his attention back to you. Without another complaint, he separated from his fellow assassins in favor of following you out of the throne room.

--

“You’re getting on my nerves already. I’d like you better if you just shut your mouth,” You snapped, your teeth grinding in annoyance. In the span of ten minutes, Sektor had already managed to push all your buttons. And not in a good way.

“I will do nothing of the sort,” He snapped back without hesitation. You were starting to question your decision and wondered if it was too late to exchange the man. No, you couldn’t do that, as you didn’t want to look ungrateful. Especially not when it was the Grandmaster’s own son. This was a strange situation already; it would be best not to make it worse.

So you settled on one more attempt at reasoning with the clan’s golden child, “Try. It might do you some good,” This was supposed to be pleasurable for you, after all. It was silent for a moment, and you grew smug at the fact that the man hadn’t been able to come up with a witty response. But while you did expect some type of attitude, you hadn’t expected what the man in question actually said next.

“Make me.”

Wait-... What? That took you aback, and your resolve momentarily crumbled as you looked at him. And he looked dead serious, too...

Well, you had promised yourself that you would correct that attitude of his.

Positioning yourself behind him, you untied the f/c sash that secured your tunic, “What are you-” But you had already placed the fabric over his mouth, tying it securely at the back of his head. That was much better. He grew sexier now that he was silent. Now that you didn’t have to listen to his sarcastic droning, you could actually get on to using your present. Proud of your work, you walked back around to face the man.

Upon feeling your form looming over him, Sektor sunk down to his knees, hands clasped behind his back. A h/c brow arched in surprise, but soon your expression turned to one of mischief. He must’ve been partial to being submissive. The thought intrigued you, to say the least. While having been on top a few times in previous experiences, you had never actually dominated your partner. But what better time to try it out than now? Especially on someone as arrogant as the Grandmaster’s son. He needed to be taken down a notch. Or two.

“You like it when a woman is in control, don’t you?” You asked rhetorically, to which he nodded, his brown eyes boring into your e/c ones. There was no question that you could have some fun with this. Taking hold of the red sash on his uniform, you snatched it off of his waist before making your way to his backside once more. With a fluid motion, you looped it around his wrists twice before tying it. He flexed his forearms in response, testing the resistance of his bondage, to which you clucked, “You’re not escaping that easily,” Though you had tied it gently enough for him to break free should he need to. But for all intents and purposes, he was helpless. Completely at your disposal. Ready for anything and everything you had in mind.

The raw, devious power surged through you so beautifully. And submissiveness looked equally enticing on Sektor. Since he was incapacitated, you took the liberty of peeling off his armor for him. It took a bit longer than you had expected to get through all of the various knots and clasps, but that was no problem. Every second was blissful agony for the man who was trapped under your touch. But eventually, your gift was unwrapped, save for his ivory undergarments. By the tenting in the fabric, he was already ready for you. But there would be none of that. Not anytime soon, anyway.

A maniacal giggle made its way past your lips as you reached around his head. With a loud snap, the red tie that was holding his long hair in place was between your fingers. You waved it in front of him teasingly before pushing the loose hair out of his eyes, “Lay down,” Your voice was a soft, but harsh whisper.

At your command, the Grandmaster’s son swung his knees out from under him and lowered his muscular back onto the cold marble floor. He winced as the cold penetrated his skin, but he made no effort to get up. Not when he was consumed by the overwhelming desire to be obedient for his mistress. Who, had he been able to speak, would have been showered in praises. You were easily one of the most beautiful women he had bedded. Being the chosen child had its perks, but it also had its drawbacks; one being that he could never explore his desire for domination. It would be too embarrassing if he, the next Grandmaster, were found under a woman. Or, one of the Lin Kuei women, anyway. But you were an outsider. Someone who passed through twice a year at most. There was no shame in this. Only pleasure as you stripped down to your f/c undergarments, taking care to leave your boots on. It fit the aesthetic, after all.

“You have a sharp tongue for someone who’s supposed to be a disciplined assassin,” You chided, your hands positioning themselves on your hips as you stood over him, your boots dangerously close to his face, “But you know what? I think we can put it to better use,” Sektor didn’t have time to consider your words before you unceremoniously squatted, the satin fabric of your underwear meeting the resistant cloth of your makeshift gag.

With an exaggerated sigh, you settled in on your new chair, your boots resting easily on either side of his head. This was much better. No noise and the pleasure of having your sex serviced. Well, not so much the second part as Sektor had a gag in place that prevented the latter. Though you did have to say that seeing him grow frustrated at his bondage was pleasurable in its own right. You sat like this for a few moments, basking in the feeling of control, until you felt a small vibration against your clothed sex.

“What was that? ‘Take the gag off’? And my panties?” You repeated, to which he nodded desperately. Another triumphant laugh rippled through your chest. As if you would give the spoiled brat what he wanted. That would be counterintuitive on your part. E/c irises clouded over as you looked down at your whining subject, “No. You haven’t earned the right to taste me,”

But that didn’t stop him from trying, much to your amusement. Sektor continued to strain against the gag, trying to do something; anything. His full beard provided some nice friction though, and you almost considered giving in and letting him eat you out. Almost, “Now look at me,” A s/c hand reached out and grabbed his chin, forcing him to give you his undivided attention. His dark pupils dilated in excitement at your roughness, “You’re going to be a good boy for me, right?” You cooed, being rewarded by another needy jerk of his head.

“Good,” H/t, h/c locks bobbed as you nodded your head in satisfaction. In fact, you were so pleased with his broken obedience that you resumed a squatting position, taking the weight off of his face momentarily. You reached down and pulled the gag free, letting it bunch around his neck instead. Sektor was only allowed a second to breathe through his mouth before your sex pressed against it once more.

But there were no complaints from the brat, only gratitude as his tongue traced the outline of your folds, “Thank you, Mistress L/n,” He mumbled as he pressed a soft kiss to your clit. You sighed, rocking your hips a bit to catch some of the friction from his beard scratching your thighs.

This felt very, very good. So good that you almost considered dropping your facade and letting yourself fully enjoy the man’s mouth. But where was the fun in that? As far as you were concerned, he was still a jerk. A whiny, beautifully submissive, brat that still hadn’t learned his lesson. Tucking your knees to your chest, you pulled yourself into a standing position, much to the disappointment of your submissive.

“Aw, don’t pout. I don’t like pouting,” Your stern voice commanded, causing Sektor to amend his expression immediately. Basking in the high of your authority, you shifted your attention to his lower half. Saying that the man was weeping for attention was an understatement as you rubbed his aching erection through the cloth. Curious, you bent over and removed his hard length from his undershorts. You gave him a sly smile as your nimble fingers worked him, “I’m surprised that you’ve actually managed to impress me,” He merely moaned in response as your stroking got faster, “Please,” His voice, hoarse from the gag, pleaded for your audience, “Please ride my cock, Mistress. I want to make you cum,” He begged while you pursed your lips, considering the proposition.

The ache in your stomach had only grown more prominent throughout your teasing. And coupled with the stimulation from Sektor’s mouth, you were beyond wet enough for intercourse. Sighing, “Very well. You’ve been a good boy so far,” Your hand ceased its movement in favor of hooking itself inside your panties along with the other. Straightening up, you pulled the silk down, stepping out of the garment to free your ankles, “I’ll give you what you want; on one condition. No thrusting,” He gave a weak nod in agreement.

Satisfied with his obedience once more, you allowed yourself to squat over him, this time over his erect dick. Once he was lined up, you began sinking down, allowing him to enter you at the most agonizingly slow rate. Only when you were comfortable did you begin moving. And it felt damn good. Overcome with desire, you allowed yourself to ride him at an excruciating pace, momentarily forgetting your cool, stone demeanor. A moan akin to a wind-chime clawed its way out of your throat as your hand found its way to your clit. You rubbed furiously while your other hand tangled itself in that long black hair, tugging it roughly. He let out a guttural sound at the lovely pain you were causing him, but he kept his promise of not thrusting into you despite an overwhelming desire to. Though that didn’t stop you from eventually changing your own rule, overcome by the pleasure.

“Fuck me. Make me cum,” You demanded, amending your previous instruction. Sektor knew better than to question your orders, his only focus on doing just what you had asked. He was able to flip you over with his strong hips despite his hands still being tied behind his back. Once you were comfortable, he wasted no time snapping his hips into yours as fast as he could. His pace was relentless, causing your toes to curl and stars to enter your vision as he rubbed against your precious spot. Your fingers bunched his loose hair up, pulling as hard as humanly possible as you met an intense climax. Shaking, your breathing grew even more ragged as the heat ravished your body. All of your neurons felt as if they were on fire as you came.

His hips slowed as the last of your orgasm made its way through you, stopping once your hand detangled itself from his black locks and fell limp across your ribs. With a tired smile, your eyes focused on him once more, “I will let you cum as a reward for being obedient,” Just not inside of you. He wasn’t that good. But he was excited nonetheless. Proud that he had lived up to your expectations. His cock exited your trembling pussy, saturated in your orgasm. When your breathing eventually slowed, you slowly shifted to sit on your knees, your hand replacing itself on his shaft.

Your hand stroked him as fast as you could manage while he whimpered in pleasure. It didn’t take long before his seed erupted from the tip of his cock, effectively coating your hand and splattering on his abs. Looking down at the mess, Sektor grew sheepish as the post-orgasm clarity seeped in. You had definitely shown him; maybe he should learn to be more humble. Or maybe he would be just as much of an asshole the next time you visited so you could teach him another lesson, “Thank you,” He managed to get out once he caught his breath.

You hated to say it, but Sektor had been right. He sure didn’t disappoint the Grandmaster.

“You’re welcome. Now go get a towel so you can clean up your mess.”

[lottiebagley]

Have you ever been in love? - Cedric Diggory

The Diggory family had lived next door to her family since she moved house when she was only 4. He had been in his garden on a kids broom, his parents sat on the patio in front of the grass watching him play, when the new next door neighbours had burst into their garden.

It was like life itself injected into the small and quiet village. Twin boys, maybe 7 or 8 with loud laughs and boisterous attitudes. A young girl who had a desperation to keep up with her brothers running out after them.

The parents had talked over the fence and Amos invited the family over for dinner, insisting that after the stress of the move they shouldn't be cooking.

The daughter ended up being only 2 months younger than Cedric and immediately they were joint at the hip.

They grew up together. Swimming in the lake in hot summers, cuddled up under blankets whilst drinking hot chocolate at Christmas. They made promises of a lifelong friendship in the small village and neither had any intent to break it.

The boy was the epitome of kindness. He was caring and sweet. Always patient with her when she got into stupid situations and loyal as they come.

She was just different enough it worked. With two older brothers who she always wanted to impress she was brave, some would say to the point it was stupid. She could be reckless but she was also passionate. If she cared she would do anything for someone and she really, really, cared about her best friend.

It was no shock that they were placed in different houses. It was also no shock to anyone that knew them that they stayed best friends. Joint at the hip.

He grounded her and cared when she felt like no one else would.

She stood right by his side through anything.

It was natural. The love that blossomed in her heart. He had grown up to be an attractive boy. With perfectly tousled hair and a tall stature. Milky skin with bright eyes and a sharp jaw. But he was more than that to her.

He was warm smiles and easy laughs. He was her rock. The one thing she could always rely on. Of course she fell for him. Fell  hard. It was only ever natural.

"Ced!" Her voice sounds through the hall, she leaves the Weasley twins' side, they were her closest friends in her own house.

He can't help the wide smile on his face when he turns to see her jogging down the corridor to catch up to him. His dorm mates rolling their eyes and calling him whipped jokingly before continuing on their way to breakfast. Leaving him to be with his best friend.

"Morning love," he grins down at her when she reaches his side, his arms wrapping around her. She can't help the blush on her cheeks at the pet name. "You sleep well?" He asks, his arm stays tightly wrapped around her as they walk to the hall.

"I slept okay. Angelina has a cold so she was snoring which kept me up a bit," the girl admits. Rolling her eyes when she sees the worry over taking her best friends features.

"You should have just come and slept in with me," he reprimands gently

"Oh yes Mr. Prefect, let me just break those school rules with you," she teases

"Since when did you care for the school rules?"

"I don't want to bring you down with me,"

"Ah. But you're the only one I would let drag me down," he laughs

"Seems like your reputation will stay crystal clean then,"

"You're a pretty bad bad influence," he chuckles giving her a tight squeeze "I mean it though. I never mind you staying in my bed," he smiles lightly.

"Thanks Ced," she grins. They arrive at the hall and she drags him to eat breakfast with her at the Gryffindor table. He pretends to protest, knowing she will never let him actually not come. The love-struck grin on his face lets everyone near the pair know that he could never say no. Even if he wanted too.

The pair talk easily over their breakfast, playing footsie under the table like it's a thing all friends do. He makes sure she's eating a balanced breakfast and she laughs calling him a mother hen. Both of them mistake the love in the others eyes to be platonic.

"Sorry love birds but y/n we have to get going. We have Herbology," George smiles down at the girl waiting patiently for her. Trying not laugh at the bright flush overtaking both their features at the name.

"I'll see you in divination?" She asks the Hufflepuff in front of her.

"See you there love," he grins. She smiles pressing a kiss to his cheek over the table. Before flouncing out of the hall with George.

If she had looked back she would have seen the smile he can't wipe off his face. The way his hand subconsciously touches his cheek. The way he laughs at himself quietly. You got it bad Diggory. He can't get the thought out of his house as he watches her laughing figure turn round the corner.

**

"You're playing with fire you know," George mutters to the girl as they stand working on a mandrake in a  tucked away corner.

"What on earth are you talking about Georgie? You must have inhaled some fumes," she jokes

"Flirting with Pretty boy Diggory. You're only going to get yourself hurt if you are with him all the time and don't tell him you feel," he states "I mean you're clearly in love," he adds on the end, laughing when her face turns beat red.

*

Y/n sits with Cedric in the library. It's late, the library will close within the hour,  and a  Friday night. Most students are having a night off and relaxing but the girl had vowed to finish all her homework by midday on Saturday, freeing up all day Sunday to spend with Cedric.

He had asked in divination if she would like to sneak into the Hufflepuff common room, something not uncommon for her, and join him and some of his friends in a games night. She had politely declined, too embarrassed to say the reason she wanted to get all her work done tonight, instead telling her friend she was behind.

Ever the good friend, he had decided to join her in the library. With their OWLs being at the end of the academic year their was always work he could be doing. He would rather be studying with her than having fun without her in any case.

He's noticed she's been distracted ever since breakfast. Arriving in their shared second lesson and slipping into a seat next to him, in some form of trance, lost in her own thoughts. He wishes he knew what it was making his best friend so stressed. Wished he could help.

"Ced?" She questions into the silent room. Looking up to see her friend peer at her from behind the book he's copying notes from.

"Yeah?" He replies, placing his quill down and smiling gently to her.

"Have you ever been in love?" She asks.

See it wasn't the idea of it being dangerous to be close to the boy she was crushing on. She knew that. Knew she was setting herself up for a heart break. It was the word love. Was she in love?

"Yes," he answers without a doubt. No question in his mind. He was in love with the scared looking girl in front of him. He had never seen her look scared before.

"Really?" She questions mouth agape. She tries so hard to ignore the ache in her chest. The feeling of her heart splintering. The way her whole world crashes down. "How did it feel?"

He is worried. Who did she think she might be in love with? The pair are practically inseparable. What boy had captured her heart whilst he had sat next to her blissfully unaware she was being snatched from him?

"It feels nice. Like home," he starts. He's nothing if he's not honest. He prides himself on that. He will help his friend through what she's feeling, he would always help her. "She's the only girl I ever want to see. Only person I ever want to see. I wake up and she's my first thought. If she's okay? If she slept well? When I'll see her?" He admits.

She nods. That fits. He is always her first thought.

"I don't stop thinking about her all day. She just occupies my head without even trying. Anytime I hear a joke I think of her laugh. When something upsets me if vision her hugging me to cheer up. When I'm in the same room as her I can't pull my eyes away," he continues.

That fits. Doesn't she always turn to see if he's laughing at a joke? Always relies on him no matter what.

"She's the first person I tell when anything happens in my life,"

That one hurts a bit. That there's some girl out there finding out the ins and outs of Cedric before she does.

"I would do anything for her. Break any rule. I'd move earth if she asked. All I have to do is vision that smile and I'm putty in her hands," he finishes.

It all fits. And it hits her like a ton of bricks. She's in love with Cedric.

"Have you?" He asks. Trying so hard to swallow his jealousy. Maybe it one of the twins. He could come to accept that. They're good to her. They would be worthy of being her first love, stealing the title he has been dreaming of since they were 11 and she broke into the hospital wing in the middle of the night to check on him.

"I think I might be," she admits. Not looking at him. It's even harder to hear than he had imagined.

"Really? Who?" He asks. God why is he torturing himself? He feels helpless. The last thing he wants is to hear and yet he just has to know.

"I don't want to tell you. It's silly," she whispers.

"If there's a boy on this planet who could have you and would choose not to then he is stupid. If he's stupid you don't want him in the first place," he's never been so sincere. What boy could ever say no to her?

"He's not. He's beautiful. And he's kind. And he's smart. I know he loves me. I just-well- I think it's platonic," she admits. There's something about how she says it. About how she's looking at him that makes hope spark in his chest. He squishes it down. This is painful enough without letting himself think it could ever be him.

He doesn't say anything. Doesn't know how to form words. Doesn't know what he can say that won't let her know she's just broken his heart.

She doesn't say anything. She is so certain he knows she's talking about him, that she'd made it so clear. And kind, sweet Cedric is trying to think of a nice way to reject her.

"We don't have to do this. You don't have to say anything," she whispers. Gathering her books grabbing her bag. "Night Ced," she tries so hard to smile but there's tears pooling in her eyes as she slips out of the door.

His heart snaps. Grabbing his own bag and leaving the book on the table chasing her through the quiet corridors.

"Love, just wait, hold up. Just-" he calls out for her. She stops in her tracks. She can never bring herself to walk away from him.

She blinks rapidly before turning around, the moon shining through the window the only thing lighting the pair. He can't help but think how ethereal she looks, the moon illuminating her.

"What's going on?" He asks, hands holding her arms, rubbing gently with his thumb in an attempt to comfort her. Heart breaking at the tear dripping down her cheek.

"Look Ced, you don't have to. Yknow- say it. We will be fine. Just- I need a bit of space. Not for long- just- just for a bit," she steps out of his hands. She can't let him comfort her right now. Not when she's so in love and only just realised. Not when he's breaking her heart.

He is confused now. Why they would need space. Why she doesn't want him to say anything. It all falls into place and he struggles to say it. Maybe it's true. Maybe it's his desperation causing him to see things that aren't there.

"Who are you in love with?" He whispers. Scared to talk any louder.

"Are you really going to make me say it?" She questions, trying to bite back the sob "I just- if you're going to force me to hear you reject me you don't have to make me say it," she whispers. Refusing to look at him.

His heart explodes. He's in front of her in two steps. One arm wrapping around her form keeping her there. The other hand cupping her cheek, the thumb reaching out to dry a tear.

"I've been practicing asking you out in my mirror since I was 13," he admits. Her eyes widen in shock before he presses his lips to hers. Kissing her with so much passion and desire that there's no doubt in her mind. He feels the same.

She's desperate for more. Kissing back with as much fervour. Grabbing at his school shirt to pull him closer, impossibly close. She can feel him everywhere as her hands squeeze the fabric. His arms hugging her whilst he kisses. They pull apart panting.

"Can I take you on a date?" He smiles "I wanna do this properly," he admits, if it was anyone else he would feel shy. Not with her.

"Sunday?" She asks, she couldn't be more glad she had cleared the day. He nods a beam on his face.

"I know you want to this properly and I do too. But please tell me we get to kiss again before the first date," she smiles, he chuckles

"Whatever you want love," he grins, his lips pressing a gentle kiss on hers now.

"Love?" She whispers against his lips. He's called her it forever but it means something so different now.

"I love you," he states. No one can ever question it, not when he says it with that much confidence,

"I love you," she repeats. "Merlin, we really have done this in the wrong order," she laughs

"Whoever said proper had to be what everyone else does," he smiles back.

He's right of course. It was just right. It was them.

**

Masterlist

[ibijau]

Futures Past pt 20 / on AO3

(posting early this week because I might not have time tomorrow)(also, because of the upcoming xisang week, I’m not sure yet if I’ll update this fic next week)

With some help from Su She, Nie Huaisang gets his wangxian ship sailing.

Nie Huaisang guiltily twisted his hands as they left the classroom, already half crying as Wei Wuxian finished retelling his first day of punishment with Lan Wangji. 

"I really am so sorry, Wei-xiong!" he lamented. "I really wish I could help you. Maybe if I could find a way to copy part of the rules for you and pass them to you…" 

"Lan er-gongzi would surely notice," Meng Yao softly objected. "And then you'd both be punished again." 

"Aren't you busy enough with your own punishment anyway?" Jiang Cheng huffed. "You'll be lucky if you can even attend your music lessons with all that extra homework you were given, right?" 

With a miserable sigh, Nie Huaisang nodded. Cheating was more work than he'd thought, and he'd have to find a better way to do it if he were to pass that year. Though really, it had been Lan Wangji’s fault for joining the lectures, which he hadn't done the previous year, and also Wei Wuxian's for taunting Lan Wangji by looking at him. Of course Lan Wangji had gotten curious, and he'd noticed the cheating, and… 

For some reason, Lan Qiren had decided that Wei Wuxian was the instigator in this business, so he'd been punished the hardest. But Nie Huaisang had been given a lot of essays to write, and he didn't dare to ask Lan Xichen to help, fearing to be scolded for his dishonesty. Meng Yao and Jiang Cheng, who hadn't cheated at all, offered little sympathy and even less help, the first because he was still catching up, the second because he didn't feel like it. Hopefully Su She might give a hand, if Nie Huaisang cried a little. 

"It's really not so bad," Wei Wuxian said carelessly. "I won't say that first afternoon in the library with Lan Zhan was fun, he's even more boring than his uncle, but I think I can entertain myself. I bet before the month is over, I can get him to break his self control. Now that'd be fun!" 

Nie Huaisang stopped on his tracks and grabbed him by the arm, not a trace of tears in his eyes. 

"Wei-xiong, why do you have to antagonise him so much?" 

"Why wouldn't I? I'd like to be his friend, but he's too stuck up. Pissing him off is the next best thing." 

Baffled by that logic, Nie Huaisang looked at their two friends. Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes, while Meng Yao was trying his best not to smile. 

"Wei gongzi is like that, don't question it too much. He likes to tease people, and thinks everyone understands it's meant in a friendly manner."

Judging by the tone of his voice, Meng Yao himself had been a victim of that friendly teasing, and that perhap it hadn't gone so smoothly between them. That would explain why Meng Yao seemed to prefer Jiang Cheng's company, who was less fun to have around, but also a little quieter when he wasn’t shouting at Wei Wuxian.

Personally, Nie Huaisang preferred Wei Wuxian out of the three, but was getting a little annoyed at him right at that moment. 

While Jiang Cheng and Meng Yao went their way to enjoy their freedom for the rest of the day (they would waste it studying, they seemed the type), Nie Huaisang decided to accompany Wei Wuxian all the way to the library, so they could chat a little. He still had a plan to put in motion, orders from his future self to obey, and his own natural desire for fun to satisfy.

“I don’t understand why you’re like that with Lan Wangji,” Nie Huaisang said as they took the longest path possible toward the library, trying to keep his tone casual. "If you want to be his friend, there are better ways. Why don't you talk to him nicely?" 

Wei Wuxian did not even hesitate. "I've tried, and he ignores me." 

That was sadly true, as Nie Huaisang had seen a few times. It didn’t help that Wei Wuxian naturally sounded like he was trying to tease people, even when he was sincere. He was so fun to have around that most people didn’t mind it, but for someone like Lan Wangji...

"Well maybe if you apologised to him?" Nie Huaisang suggested.

"I've tried that too, but he thinks I'm insincere.”

"Because you are!" Nie Huaisang pointed out, fighting a smile.

Wei Wuxian just laughed, but that was an answer in itself.

"Please, at least don't make him any angrier," Nie Huaisang pleaded. "He'll never be your friend otherwise!" 

Hearing him get so distressed about that, Wei Wuxian stopped in his tracks, his expression more serious than Nie Huaisang had ever seen so far. He was a little scary like that, something about his height and the shape of his eyes making him look cold and distant when he wasn’t grinning and laughing.

"Listen, Nie-xiong,” Wei Wuxian said in a voice that had lost some of its warmth. “I want to be his friend, sure. I think there's something interesting about him, definitely. I’d really like it if I could be close to Lan Zhan, and given the chance I’ll do it for sure. But if he only becomes friends with me because I start acting like someone I'm not, then we're not really friends, and it's not worth the effort."

“Wei-xiong, I didn’t expect you to be wise like that,” Nie Huaisang whispered, a little awed.

“Only you would find that wise,” Wei Wuxian mocked, and Nie Huaisang found that he could breathe a little more easily now that the other boy was laughing again. “If Jiang Cheng heard me, he’d say that my personality is too awful for anyone to like me! And Meng Yao would say something about compromises. I’m pretty sure they’re the wise ones, but I just don’t feel like acting so seriously.”

Nie Huaisang grinned, a little envious of such a bold way of living. He was not always likeable, according to a lot of people (himself included, when it came to the man he was supposed to become), and so he would never have expected people to fully like him as he was. Nobody except his brother, who had little choice in the matter, and maybe Su She who probably felt like he couldn’t be too picky when it came to friends, and… well, Lan Xichen seemed to like him as he was, too, but that was just because he was so nice.

It was so bold of Wei Wuxian to expect to be fully accepted as he was. But then again, Lan Wangji also wasn’t the sort to make efforts to get others to like him, so at least they had that in common.

As they arrived near the library, the topic had to be dropped. Wei Wuxian, with a grimace of fake agony, went inside to sit with Lan Wangji, while Nie Huaisang had the pleasant surprise of finding Su She about to leave the library, and free to spend some time with him. Lan Wangji had asked for his help to put some order in a section of the building while waiting for Wei Wuxian to arrive, and Su She couldn’t decide if he was flattered or annoyed that the request had been made to him rather than another disciple.

Su She ranted about that for a little bit as they walked away from the library, before complaining about his classes, and then about a letter from his mother who wanted him to send home some talismans because she was still convinced their house was haunted even thought he’d visited during winter and hadn’t noticed anything amiss. Nie Huaisang listened, and even reacted here and there, but couldn’t quite focus on his friend’s problem that day. Su She noticed of course, and asked what hung so heavy on his mind that he couldn’t even laugh at his description of a clearly fake haunting.

“I might have a silly question to ask you,” Nie Huaisang replied. “But please, don’t make fun of me for it. It’s kind of important, and I think you could really help me.”

“That sounds very worrying, but fine, ask me.”

"How would one seduce a Lan?" 

Su She gave him such a long, serious look, that Nie Huaisang started feeling he’d rather have been laughed at after all.

"So you're finally doing something about Lan gongzi?” Su She asked. “About time, it was getting annoying how clueless you are. And, well, if you want my opinion…" 

"Oh, no, this is about Lan Wangji, not Xichen-gege!" 

Su She stopped walking and fell silent for a moment, his expression turning complicated. He looked as if he’d eaten a very sour lemon that also happened to be moldy, all while there was a cut in his mouth.

"Lan er-gongzi? Really?"

"Yes. See, I think Wei-xiong and him could be good friends,” Nie Huaisang quickly explained, startled by that strong reaction, “so of course I want to help. But they're the two most difficult people in the world, you know? Xichen-gege is helping, but a second opinion never hurts." 

"Ah, it's just that," Su She said, instantly relaxing. 

He resumed walking away from the library, and Nie Huaisang followed.

"Well, yeah. Why did you think I needed help about Xichen-gege?" 

Su She hesitated, and even opened his mouth a few times to say something. Eventually he frowned and shrugged.

"If you're too stupid, it's not my problem,” he said. “Let's talk about those other two instead, since you’re so preoccupied. Aside from being equally good at fighting, what do they have in common?" 

Nie Huaisang crossed his arms on his chest and shook his head.

"Nothing at all." 

Su She nodded.

"Then I guess they need to fight again. Maybe in public."

"You think that'd help if they had an audience?" Nie Huaisang wondered.

"No idea,” Su She said with a wicked grin, “but I'd like to see Lan er-gongzi in a fight that makes him break a sweat."

Nie Huaisang poked him in the ribs.

"Mean. But… Wei-xiong can be pretty full of himself,” he admitted. “I guess I'd also like to see if he's as good as he thinks. How to get them to fight though?"

They’d reached a more isolated part of the Cloud Recesses, a small garden that rarely saw much use, just at the border to the wilderness. They found a bench, and after removing some dead leaves they sat there to continue chatting in peace.

"In two days, you get a day off from lectures, right?” Su She asked. “Get your Wei-xiong to the training grounds after lunch. Lan er-gongzi is always there at that time on a free day, and I'll do my best to be as well. It'll be pretty easy to get them to spar." 

"Su-xiong you're just the best!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, hugging his friend who barely even grumbled against such effusions. “What would I do without you?" 

"You'd be less efficient for sure. Now can we talk about something less boring than Lan er-gongzi?”

“Yes, yes! Tell me more about your parents’ haunting, I’ll really listen now! If it’s not a ghost, then what is it?”

Pleased to return to a more fun subject, Su She started discussing his theory about some wild cats and a few squirrels that he suspected to have found their way into the currently disused ‘haunted’ room, and talked about it with such indignation that Nie Huaisang was soon in tears from how hard he laughed.

-

Although nobody had been warned of the duel to come, a small crowd had quickly assembled around the training grounds once it became understood that Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were having a friendly fight. They were both reputed to be insanely skilled after all, and rumours about their first duel under the moonlight had spread fast. 

So far, Nie Huaisang had to admit that both boy's reputation was deserved. If anything, they were both more talented than he would have expected. They exchanged blows and parried them as if it were easier than breathing, making for a beautiful show. Su She, who stood on Nie Huaisang's right at the very edge of the training grounds, appeared consumed with admiration and envy. He'd fallen silent a while ago, and perhaps regretted this fight he'd helped organise. 

On Nie Huaisang's left, Jin Zixuan was almost as upset, just a little better at concealing it. 

"I can't believe such talent has been wasted and given to the world's most obnoxious person," he complained as Wei Wuxian dodged a blow. 

"Apparently, that's also Lan Wangji’s opinion," Nie Huaisang cheerfully replied. "But I think he's warming up to Wei-xiong now." 

Lan Wangji, after a moment of surprise at the way Wei Wuxian had avoided his attack, lunged at him again with renewed vigour. 

"Yes, I can see they're on their way to becoming best friends," Jin Zixuan sneered. "Well, that's getting boring. I was hoping to see Wei Wuxian put in his place, but now he's just going to be more insufferable. I'll see you later, Nie gongzi." 

He left, but the spot next to Nie Huaisang didn't remain empty for very long. Lan Xichen quickly made his way there. Nie Huaisang immediately smiled at him, but unlike the rest of them, Lan Xichen didn't appear to pleased by the show. 

"Huaisang what's going on here?" he asked. "What are they fighting about? Did something happen?" 

"Oh they're just fighting for the sake of it!" Nie Huaisang cheerfully explained, only for Lan Xichen to look even more distressed. 

"Wangji got into a fight without reason? How?" 

Alerted by his tone, Su She tore his eyes from the fight and gave Lan Xichen a quick bow. 

"Lan gongzi needs not worry. They're not actually fighting, this is only a friendly spar." 

"Yes, we thought it'd be good for them, so we made it happen," Nie Huaisang confirmed. “I think it’s going great! Wei-xiong looks like he’s having the time of his life!”

Reassured that no rules were broken and no serious harm was intended by either party, Lan Xichen finally properly looked at the ongoing duel. He observed the two fighters for a moment before eventually nodding.

“Wangji too is enjoying this,” he said after some consideration. “I’m glad for him. It is so rare for him to get an opponent of his level. Other juniors are rarely a match, and adults won’t spar with him because they don’t want to lose to someone so young. You had a good idea, Huaisang.”

“Oh, that wasn’t even my idea,” Nie Huaisang replied, beaming. “It was Su-xiong who suggested it, and who asked to see them spar.”

Lan Xichen turned his attention to Su She, who appeared a little uncomfortable. Nie Huaisang realised, a little late, that scheming to make people fight, even in a friendly manner, was probably against some of Gusu Lan rules.

“I am glad you have such a good friend helping you set your plan in motion,” Lan Xichen said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Still, don’t drag him into too much mischief. I would be very disappointed in you, Huaisang, if you caused Su-shidi to get in trouble. He’s worked so hard to prove himself to our teachers, let’s not ruin his efforts just because you like to have a little too much fun.”

“Of course not!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed. “Su-xiong, you wouldn’t let me cause you real problems, right?”

“I only agree with Nie gongzi’s ideas if they don’t contradict the rules,” Su She confirmed, bowing again toward Lan Xichen. “And I wouldn’t let Nie gongzi do anything dangerous or ill-advised. Lan gongzi can be at peace, I won’t let anything happen to his friend.”

Lan Xichen smiled stiffly. 

"I know I can trust Su-shidi to take good care of Nie gongzi. I am… quite happy to leave him in your hands, where I know he'll be safe." 

It was a rather odd way to say that, and there was something a little too cold in Lan Xichen’s tone which did not quite please Nie Huaisang. But Su She himself seemed unbothered, so this might just have been Nie Huaisang imagining things. It was probably just that Lan Xichen still remained doubtful regarding Lan Wangji’s potential friendship with Wei Wuxian, which had to affect his mood.

But things really were going quite well. In fact, they were going much better than Nie Huaisang had hoped. After fighting a little more, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian eventually stopped when a Lan teacher approached them to explain that he needed the training grounds for his own class. There didn’t appear to be a clear winner between them, as far as Nie Huaisang could say. Later, when he asked Su She, his friend gave his more expert opinion that although they had completely different fighting styles, they were equals in strength and capacity. It would be interesting, he said, to see them fight side by side instead of against each other.

For now though, they politely bowed to each other, and Wei Wuxian, grinning more brightly than Nie Huaisang had ever seen him yet, asked if they might train together again in the future.

It was quite funny to see Lan Wangji’s conflicted expression. On one hand, Wei Wuxian was nearly a criminal in his eyes, who had disrespected his uncle, broken many rules, and cheated during an exam, all of which was unforgivable and marked Wei Wuxian as beneath his consideration. But at the same time, this looked to have been a very fun sparring session, Lan Wangji had been forced to use all his skill to keep up with his opponent, and that was something too precious to be easily dismissed.

At a loss, Lan Wangji turned to look at his brother, hoping for guidance. Lan Xichen, in turn, only briefly glanced at Nie Huaisang before nodding at his brother with an encouraging smile.

“Behave in class,” Lan Wangji ordered with a slight frown, before turning away.

Wei Wuxian looked disappointed by what he must have mistaken for rejection, but Nie Huaisang saw that answer for what it was and ran to his friend to explain that Lan Wangji had, in fact, very warmly agreed to fight him again.

[maadorii]

you’re gonna wanna be my best friend— y. itadori x gn! reader

max.note’s: this is my child, my baby and i love it. probably my favorite fic i’ve ever wrote uwu i think the ending is bit rushed but that’s i was writing this at 4am (i’m also trying out a new layout-ish so yea) 

synopsis—where you and Itadori came up with the greatest, yet stupidest idea in your lives: getting married to lower your tuition cost. what could go wrong? well, there’s getting caught by the government, and then there’s potentially falling in love with your best friend. 

warning/tags: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, characters aged up (18+), high school/college au, modern au, fluff & crack, megumi is the only one with a working brain cell 

w. count— 3.1k

“yuuji, what’re we gonna do!?” you exclaimed, pacing around the open space of said boy’s bedroom. itadori groaned loudly from his spot on his bed, tugging at the skin underneath his eyes with him. 

looking down at the bright, bold red letters of the opened email on your phone screen, you internally cried to yourself, because… fuck. this is what all the hard work all four-years of high school led up to?

25, 580 dollars worth tuition left to pay, out of pocket. 

“i don’t fucking know. ...wait, do you think megumi would have an answer?” he perked up at his own, and quite frankly, idiotic idea like an excited puppy. if you squint you can see a tail wagging behind him. turning around to look at the pink headed boy, you practically leaped across the room to slap him repeatedly upside his head. 

“ow– hey... ouch! what the fuck?!” itadori whined, lifting his arms up to shield himself way from your merciless assault. “yuuji, are you dumb? we cannot, for the love of god, ask megumi. he’ll probably tell us to apply for a loan or something.” you snapped. 

“we’ll do that then, it can’t be that hard.” 

“have you seen your credit? there’s no way we're getting approved for a loan.” you exasperated as you folded your arms across your chest, plopping yourself down next to itadori. and the both of you were left to sit in condemning silence that laid itself like a thick, winter blanket over you. itadori could’ve sworn he heard the gears turning in your head because of the stark silence. 

you suddenly gasped, jumping to your feet. it was almost like a lightbulb went off on the top of your head. itadori gaped at you as your eyes lit up like stars, turning to him, it was your ‘aha’ moment. the biggest smile he’s ever seen on your face. he couldn’t help the tinge of nervousness settle in the pit of his tummy, probably for good reason.  

“here me out– what if we got married?” 

-

you and itadori meet in the lunchroom on the first day of school your freshman year of high school.

to say you meet by pure coincidence is actually a perfect explanation to describe what really went down. you remember how you sat alone at the lunch table, scrolling through your phone on social media when all of a sudden a rather energetic boy with pink hair crashed into your table. face planted in your bowl of greek yogurt. and it was the fancy kind too. 

the cafeteria around you erupted in laughter at the... spontaneous display happening before you. and although you wanted to laugh (in all honesty, it was funny), the boy below hasn’t moved an inch. truthfully, you were worried. 

“hey, um, are you okay?” you asked, nudging the top of his head. itadori didn’t show any sign of getting up. you nudged him a little harder, shaking his shoulder. with a gurgled grunt, itadori lifted his head from the bowl and the first thing that caught your eye was the crimson colored blood smeared along the stark white of the yogurt. there was a delirious look in his eye as if he wasn’t completely there in the real world. the laughter has long since died down, only a few strangers coming up to the table to record the aftermath. 

when itadori came to, he peered up at you through his yogurt clumped eyelashes and he felt his heart tighten considerably in his chest. 

“you okay? you’re... bleeding, a lot.” you asked again, gesturing to the entirety of his face. he didn’t say anything as he wiped around his nose, seeing the blood covered dairy. he looked mortified, now catching onto the stares and cameras by nosy teenagers being shoved in his face. reacting quickly, you reached out to one his unoccupied hand, gently guiding him in the direction of the nurses office. your footsteps echoed as you walked down the empty hallway, itadori following close behind you. neither of you said anything during the trip, nor when you entered the nurse’s office. it wasn’t until you had a warm wash rag against itadori’s cheek, wiping away the food and blood mixture, that he finally said something. 

“i’m... sorry, for ruining your lunch...” you stopped in your tracks, left to ponder in your thoughts. he’s sitting here with a busted lip and a shattered dignity... and he’s apologizing for face planting in your yogurt?

“hey, you have bigger things to worry about. so, what’s your name?” you continued to wipe at his face, waiting for him to reply.

“yuuji itadori.” and you saw the slightest glimpse of a smile tugging at the corner of his rosy lips. you returned the smile, teeth showing. 

from then on, you two were joined at the hip. there wasn’t anything you didn’t do together. 

there was something about itadori that brought out the inner child in you. he was sweet, loyal and compassionate. he was a lamp to a moth– hard to resist. hard to ignore. he was your first taste of an easy going life, being able to enjoy being a kid. 

on the other hand, you were the foundation he needed. you were open minded, authentic and grounded. you were the first thing in itadori’s life that felt stable. obtainable. your ambition turned into his drive; he wanted to be by your side for as long as possible. 

you both were something– somebody, each other needed the most. it’s like what they say: the best people in your life come when you need them the most. 

-

“are you two dumb or something? now, i expect this kinda thing from yuuji, but not you.”megumi quipped, left eyebrow arched in concern as he gestured towards your direction with his pencil. nobara in a similar state next to him, working on the worksheet the teacher handed out earlier. it was currently mid-way through the school day, you, itadori, megumi and nobara sat at your assigned table in statistics. it’s been about a week since your discussion with itadori about your... rather brilliant idea. 

“well, that’s harsh.” itadori grumbled, flipping him off. megumi snorted as he returned the gesture. “okay, now listen! they’re explaining the thingy.” 

you cleared your throat, sitting up straight to try to make yourself look dignified. “when applying for financial aid, if you’re married, we’ll be considered an independent on the document. meaning? more money!” 

“okay, well that’s great and all but, you do know you’ll be responsible for each other legally? as in, medical and money expenses. what would you do if either one of you dies? ” megumi questioned. you chuckled, wrapping your arm around itadori’s neck. “i’ve been legally responsible for him since freshman year, what’ll be the difference?” 

megumi rolled his eyes, burying his head in his hands. “god, you’re both so helpless.” 

“you know what megumi? i hope both sides of your pillow are warm when you go to sleep tonight.” itadori gasped in shock, hand reaching up to grip the cotton fabric of the shirt he was wearing. nobara snickered behind her hand to which megumi prompted to shift in her direction, whispering something along the lines of “don’t encourage them!”

“(y/n)! you did not just say that!?”

“i sure as hell did. and i’ll say it again!” you snapped your fingers, jutting out your hip. “and they’ll say it again!” itadori said, copying your actions.

megumi and nobara only watched in pity as the two of you continued to embarrass yourself in the middle of the classroom, other classmates turning to catch a peak of the commotion.

“wait, i got one, i got one! ahem, i hope you pour yourself a nice, big bowl of cereal of— what do you eat? apple jacks? only for there to be no milk!” 

you sputtered out a laugh, pounding your fist on the table. itadori was loud with laughter as well, body slung over the back of the chair.

megumi sighed, picking up his pencil to erase a mistake he spotted on his paper. he watched as the eraser smudged the lead on the paper instead of actually erasing it. watching the scene unfold before you, wheezing out another laugh, and clutching on to your stomach for relief. 

“shut the fuck up, the both of you.”

-

graduation was only a month away. 

teachers were cramming review lessons left and right. completing any last minute work to turn in. senior activities, trips, prom, and getting ready for what was to be the biggest day of your life. where all your hard work and putting up with the shitty ass public school system for 13 years will finally pay off. 

at least that’s how they make it seem. 

itadori was currently sitting in megumi’s living room, sprawled out on the floor like a starfish. his political science textbook laid open next to him. he’s been unusually quiet this afternoon, megumi noted when he would glance up from his own textbook in his lap.

“hey, yuuji? something the matter?”

itadori didn’t respond right away, instead, he shifted himself closer to megumi to lay his head on the other boy's lap. caught surprised by his actions, megumi tried to shove his head off but itadori being the stubborn man he was wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“god, you’re so annoying—“

“then why are you still friends with me?” his words were quick and sharp like a kitchen knife. and megumi had to take a second to pause. “is this what this is about?” itadori still hasn’t said anything, his body curling in on itself. eventually, he shook his head no. 

“alright... then what’s wrong?” 

megumi watched as itadori twiddled with fingers, reluctant to share his feelings with the other male. you see, the thing is that although megumi and itadori have been friends since middle school, they found it hard to share each other's feelings. especially megumi. they’ve always been the “i don’t know how to talk about my feelings so let me enjoy your company for a while?” type of friends. except for that one time. 

“it’s just... i’m not so sure if i want to marry (y/n) anymore...” megumi could barely hear what itadori said, but he caught it. and color him surprised. “have you finally come to senses that it’s a stupid idea?” 

“no, it’s not that–” megumi sighed internally, “–it’s just, what if our relationship changes after it’s finalized? we planned to do it after graduation a-and– it’s just a really scary thing to think about.” itadori’s voice began to warble, and megumi could feel his body tremble as the boy beneath tried to hold in his tears. 

in all the years they’ve known each other, itadori has only cried once in front of him. and that was the night of his 16th birthday. because itadori didn’t come from the best home, and at the time, only megumi knew of such disclosed information. 

“they said it themselves, you guys have always taken care of each other. so why do you think it’ll change things?” he gently tried to coax itadori into calming down, his hand stroking the soft tufts of his hair. thumb caressing his buzzcut. itadori sniffed, and megumi can hear the disgusting sound of snot being sucked back in his nostrils, but he refrained himself from reacting. 

“b-because, i just don’t want my feelings to get in the way, ya’ know? this is simply supposed to be platonic, but it isn’t anymore. at least for me.” 

and right then and there, megumi’s suspicions were confirmed. itadori did have feelings for you. more than what a best friend should have. “your feelings? and what might these feelings be, yuuji?” 

“that i want to spend a very long time with them, by their side. but not as their best friend. something more than that.” he let out a shuddered  exhale, and the room was engulfed with silence. megumi took this time to process what itadori said, the last four words resonating in his mind. 

something more than that.

megumi shifted itadori’s body off his, moving to sit up on his own. and that’s when he saw his face for the first time; his red-brimmed eyes and how the tears clumped his willowy eyelashes together. the tremble in his lips because, damn, he’s trying so hard to hold it in. 

he didn’t have anything to say– there wasn’t much to say to begin with, but megumi wrapped his arms around itadori in a hug. he felt him relax against his body, taking in the cool scent of his sweater. 

“it’s okay to be scared, yuuji, but i believe... you’re smart enough to make the right decision.” 

 - 

standing underneath the blazing summer heat, you stood in front of the court house waiting for itadori to show up. today was supposed to be the day, where you and itadori were to be married. it’s been thirty minutes and no itadori in sight. which is unlike him considering that he is, surprisingly, very punctual. he hasn’t even responded to any of your texts or calls, which also isn’t very much like him.

but those thirty minutes turned into an hour, that soon turned into two hours. 

and to say you were angry, was a complete understatement. you were livid. and that’s how you found yourself banging on itadori’s front door, ignoring the stares of the noisy next door neighbor peeping through their window. 

“yuuji! open the fucking door! i know your ass is in there, i can see your minecraft lamp turned on from your window.” you shouted, breathing heavily through your nose. there wasn’t an immediate response, only dead silence, which prompted you to raise your fist to go another round of beating up the door until the faint sound of footsteps reached the door. opening with a creak. 

there stood the man of the hour, yuuji ita- fucking- dori.

“there you are! dude, what the hell happened? why didn’t you show up at the courthouse today? did you forget or...” you were quick to jump the gun, bombarding him with questions left and right. 

“no... i didn’t forget.” was his reply, eye downcast to look at his sock clad feet. anywhere but your face right now. 

“then what yuuji? what could’ve been so important that you decided to just forget?” you flayed your arms around like a mad man, the anger rolling off your body in waves. you knew that you weren’t necessarily being fair to him right now, you can tell by his stand-offish attitude since opening the door. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment. 

itadori was reluctant to answer, his legs wobbly with the anxiety running rampant in his system. he was tempted to say sorry and be done with this, but then he remembered megumi’s words.    

...you’re smart enough to make the right decision. 

“because... because this isn’t a good idea anymore.” now you’re more confused than angry. 

“what do you mean this isn’t a good idea anymore,” you asked, placing your hand on your hip. “that's not what you said 4 months ago.” 

itadori sighed, starting to feel the twinge of annoyance in the tips of his fingers. he was starting to regret his choice of words. “i know what i said 4 months ago. but now 4 months later, i’ve changed my mind.” 

you wanted to laugh, but you couldn’t muster a bubble of it in your system. was he for real right now? 

“oh really? and why do you say that?” 

“it’ll change everything.” the reply was short. straight to the point. 

“what? no, it won’t! don’t be silly, we’ll still be best friends!” you try to muse, but itadori wasn’t budging. his face was disdained, detached from the world. the answer was sitting on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t ready to say it. especially in front of you. 

taking in his physique, your mind started to slow. you didn’t want to go there but you couldn’t help it. it was only natural, right? 

he’s been off putting since the graduation ceremony two weeks ago. he was so bright and happy that day, shoving his diploma in megumi’s face a numerous number of times. you remember the scream he let out when your name was called to walk across the stage of the arena. how embarrassed you felt as you did so, but a twinge of giddy happiness filled your chest. because he was calling out your name. your heart always did leap with joy when his attention was on you, and only you. the way he had you wrapped around his finger, without him even knowing. it takes you back to when you two first met, how you were so captivated by his amber eyes. the sudden urge to be there. to always be there and to be more. 

so... “do you not like me anymore? is this what this is about now?” it came out a whispered, and itadori was shocked nonetheless. now what were you talking about? 

“what, no! of course i still like you!” you almost laughed at how quickly he responded.

“then why? why did you–”

“i just didn’t want to make things awkward between us! i didn’t want to ruin our friendship with my... stupid feelings.” glancing up, you can see the slightest tint of pink on the roundness of his cheeks. awkward? ruin? 

you took a step forward, your hand reaching to hold his. kindly, thumbing his knuckles with your thumb. the way he always liked it. 

“yuuji, your feelings are never stupid. i’m your best friend–” with a frustrated huff, itadori ripped his hand away from yours. 

“but that’s the thing though! best friend this and best friend that– what if i don’t want to be your best friend anymore, hm? what if–” make the right decision, “what if i want to be more than that?”

more than that?

“you want to be more than friends? is what you’re saying.” itadori can almost feel himself shit his pants. 

that giddy feeling that always erupted whenever you were around him expanded ten fold. you’ll be damned: your best friend of four and a half years, was in love with you. the smile that you struggled to fight bloomed with mirth on your face. and itadori followed suit, reaching out to hold your hand once more.

not much needed to be said, the smile on your face was enough for him to put it all together. for once, he was actually smart enough to make a decision. a good one at that. 

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