c://ENEMY.exe

hey yo!! welcome to my lame ass intro post! i’m bambi (they/them, est, 21+) and i present you my gremlin son, the sarcastic af, gun obsessed, always ready to throw down hyesung. that gif right there is what he looks like right before he is about to roast the hell out of you, btw. if your muse does not want to punch his face in at least once during their interaction then i am not playing this boy right!! below is his page links and my poor excuse of tl;dr of his bio! my plots/connections page is still a wip but i’m still down for plotting either on tumblr or on d.iscord so just let me know!! can’t wait to write with all of you <333

STATS | BIO | PLOTS | PINTEREST | PLAYLIST

i promise the plots page will get done eventually,,,, i’m just... lazy akskskd

high off of it // @hyesungxvc​

Rage boiled ravenously in his veins. He felt like he was on fire, vision clouded over with hard redness. Malachi found his calloused hands wrapped around the cool handle of the bat. The one he’d had since he was a kid, he’d remembered it being too big back then. How his arms burned when he held it up to swing it, the sound of the kids teeth against the metal even though he didn’t have enough for a full blow. 

Back then it kept him up at night, flashing in his mind over and over like the highlight reel of a horror movie. But every time he used it after he felt nothing. It rolled off his back, like violence always had, like rage always did. He’d used it to defend Ash and his brother, his mother, his siblings. In those moments he’d only want to teach them a lesson. Never going too far, no one ever allowed him, but Ash coming home with his face in such a disarray drove his body before his mind had a chance to catch up.

He’d already taken off down the street, not even knowing how far the restaurant was, just a vague description and the name of it but it was all he needed. He could feel the blood pooling on his tongue from how harshly his teeth clamped down on the sides of his mouth. There was a short time where he thought he would be done fighting Ashton’s battles, but his love for him made it hard for him to not go insane when he needed him, to not risk it all if he had too.

As he turned the corner the sidewalk swelled with the sounds of an argument. From what he understood from the Korean he was sure he’d found his guy. 

In hindsight, he should have asked the possibility that he wasn’t lingering just slightly, but his arms moved faster than his mind could stop it. The bat raised above his head, leaning into his step, Malachi swung it into the other’s mid-section, not caring much that he’d interrupted their conversation. He ignored the gasps of on-lookers, pulling the bat up to swing again, this time, a direct hit to his upper shoulder. 

“Watch where you’re putting your fucking hands asshole.” He said with a smirk, his rage falling like a shadow of his expression. It’d been so long since he’d felt the high of violence and tasting it again felt like experiencing the drug over again.

✘ ✘ ✘

The argument was pointless at this point. After throwing his fist into the blond man's face and having to be pulled off after blacking out as he hit him over and over again, he had been all but thrown out the establishment. The police would be there eventually but he’s been in the back of cop cars all his life. One more ride wouldn’t hurt. He wasn’t even going to run away this time.

He should have, though. The approaching footsteps should have been a warning, but he was too slow to react in time.

He had barely a moment to process the flash of metal before his vision flickered out, a sudden flare of pain flashing along his insides, causing him to double over and gasp for air. Hyesung went to open his eyes again only to feel something connect with his shoulder, rendering him to his knees. He could barely yell as the agony gripped at him, body tensing as he fell over to the ground, laying on his side, almost shy of dry heaving. The stars in front of his eyes were sad imitations of the ones he imagined from the stories his mother used to tell. But these were tainted in pain, muddled by the pulsing agony that took over him.

Gasps and cries hit his ears and he managed to open his eyes long enough to blearily scan his surroundings. People were there, eyes wide and hands over their mouths and they were looking his way. Something sick and dark rose from within him, and he almost laughed because…

God, they were watching. Eyes were trained on him, seeing him, noticing him. He could feel the blood rising from his throat, the metallic tang on his tongue, and he felt alive again. It was pathetic how happy he was over this, over how excited he was that they cared enough to train their eyes on the situation instead of walking away. But he had always been a pitiful bastard, sad and angry and full of hate and bile.

A harsh wheeze left him, arm wrapping around his damaged waist, wincing at the pain that shot along his abdomen and shoulder blade. This pain made it real, made it feel like he was something more than a blemish in everyone’s life. Vertigo took over him, rolling over onto his back as he tried to will it away. Finally, after some time he realized he had been spoken to. It took a moment to register what was said, ears ringing, but the realization hardly caught him by surprise. Of course the nameless blond would have ran to someone. Of course he had someone there in his corner to care about him. Everyone had someone but him. ‘Fuck them. Fuck all of them,’ he thought. He was used to being alone. He told himself that he didn’t need anyone but the pain. It always had him and he learned to embrace it long, long ago.

It took an embarrassingly long time for him to get back into a kneeling position, body screaming in protest. He knew this wouldn’t be enough. There was still something lingering, a void that hadn’t been filled yet. And he needed to have it poured in at full capacity, possibly even run over the edges. Gracelessly he pulled himself up, body swaying from side to side as his sneakers scraped the pavement, the sound sharp and cutting amidst the quiet murmurs of onlookers. He needed to hurt more. He needed to feel that rage consume him like a flame, to burn him so that everyone could see that he was worth being lit alight. It took every ounce of strength he had to pull on a smirk: taunting, menacing—something only a empty bastard like him could wear.

“So… he went crying to you. Need… need you to fight… his battles…. like… a bitch.” Push more. Hurt more. Make him feel something. “Is that… all you got? Weak… fucking shot. My grandpa... hit me harder than that.” He then snorted, loud and vile, before hacking in the other’s direction, watching the blood spatter on the concrete between them. “Try… again… motherfucker.”

It took a lot to make Ashton mad. In fact, he didn’t even react in anger after being mugged or shot. But this man beside him had suddenly forced the sunshine away and replaced it with a black cloud. The smile slowly fell from his freckles face as he turned to look at the other. “Excuse me? I can understand that you don’t approve of what I’m doing but don’t presume to know who I am or what I am doing this for. You don’t know me and it’s extremely rude of you to assume that I’m just some vlogger who wants to eat on a freaking camera.” He huffed.

Ashton didn’t flash his wealth like his friend Dragan. Ashton never felt the need to do so. His twin, was the opposite. So, it was easy to assume that he was just some kid recording for his YouTube, trying to get famous. Ashton could buy out the whole restaurant if he wanted to. “Also, I donate to real charities. I was trying to be polite by offering to pay for your meal since I am essentially disrupting you. And just so you know, I’ve never used a coupon in my life. You assume that I can’t afford my meal and yours just because I’m a vlogger. Which, in itself, is a dumb assumption. Considering influencers are making more than a lot of people, these days. I do this for fun. Don’t mistake my hobby for my job. And don’t belittle those who do this for a living.”

Being entertaining and gaining and keeping followers was a hard task, in the age of cancel culture. Ashton had a respect for those able to do so. “And this camera is cheap because I’d rather not get mugged again. So, before you make asinine comments about someone that you don’t know, just don’t. It’s people like you who make people like me want to stay home. Who decides to wake up and be such a douchebag?” He rolled his eyes, mood completely ruined.

When the smile fell, his lips almost quirked up involuntarily. Temporary satisfaction curled in his gut at the response he got, pleased that he got the reaction intended. While his annoyance was still highly prevalent, it made him feel better to spread his horrid mood to someone else. While his entire being still wanted to collapse right to the table and sleep the next few years away, he never gave up an opportunity to continue pushing someone over the edge. The blond was pretty but had what he coined a ‘punchable face’, and Hyesung itched to get into a true fist fight just to relieve some of the tension slowly building up in layers upon him. Maybe the other would deck him in the face so he could finally knock out peacefully.

He scoffed with a shake of the head, rolling his eyes back to his bowl before responding, “I call it how I see it. You’re recording yourself eating, like a fucking weirdo. Don’t do weird shit and you won’t be called out for it.” He was hoping that eventually that would be the end of it and the other man would leave so he could sit in his irritated exhaustion, but Hyesung had never been a lucky one. Instead the conversation persisted, and it was grating further on already frayed nerves. Fine. The blond wanted to argue? He would gladly hurt his feelings.

He laid his chopsticks down on the table a bit too aggressively, feeling an ache at the base of his skull, a pulsing that was soon to find a way to his eyelids. He just wanted to have a meal in peace but now he was prepared to dig his proverbial nails in and rip at the man beside him just because he could. “Holy shit, no one cares. Good for you, you’re giving money away. Want a fucking philanthropist prize or something? Show off.” Then his eyes narrowed dangerously, deciding to dig those metaphysical claws deeper. “And being an influencer isn’t a real job, Jesus Christ. Just because all of you are zombies following someone who flashes something pretty and talks bullshit doesn’t make it worth something. You are so. fucking. annoying. Do you get off on hearing yourself talk?”

Worst off, one of the biggest problems Hyesung had was not being able to dig his heels in and stop himself once he got started. A penchant for getting harsher and harsher as time went on from years of needing to be desperately heard, he couldn’t stop himself from pushing further. “Mugged? So you can’t fight, either?” He raised a brow and gave the blond a once over before murmuring a ‘figures, look at you’ under his breath. So much for the fist fight he wanted. He found arguments less fun if someone didn’t swing by the end of it. He decided that just arguing to argue wasn’t fun anymore, but he couldn’t without one final quip as he began to stand up, digging for his wallet within his hoodie pockets.

“  Not changing for the better, I'm just changing clothes on weekends. ”

Hit ‘Em Up || @hyesungxvc

It wasn’t that Seojoon disliked most people. It was that most people irritated him. Hyesung was most people. Only difference was that he didn’t dislike him. They both like to toss insults at the other but none of it was really aimed to hurt the other. The alpha often hung out with Hyesung when he had free time. Between the shop and leading a gang, he didn’t really have much time to do anything. Especially since he’d met Dragan Jeup. He hadn’t expected the heir to become someone that he’d care about but that was a whole other story.

He was sat at the underground, dealing with another snake. He was fed up with people testing him. He knew that he was young and he knew that a lot of them still judge him for killing Kento. He couldn’t care less. Sam had chosen him as their leader and his trust in him meant more than anything anyone else could ever say to him. He’d just have to weed out the ones that didn’t fully have his back.

Which was why he’d ordered a new custom gun. He already had a few but Hyesung was just so fucking good at what he did. If he was going to murder, he wanted to murder in style. The door opened and he looked up at the weapon’s tech. “About damn time. Were you watching YouTube and beating off again?” He joked, putting his phone down.

✘ ✘ ✘

The only noise in the room was the incessant clicking of keys and the buzz of the desktops tower, the colors within the visible mainframe shifting every so often as per Hyesung’s customization. He was in his typical position when there, head on his bent knee that was propped in the seat, one hand shoved in a bag of sweets and the other flying over his keyboard as he worked. Comfortable was an understatement, being down underground feeling like a real home comparable to one you would share with your loved ones. The Howlers, while ruthless, were his family. He didn’t feel in danger while doing his thing, and he spent an unreasonable amount of time in his room down there.

So much so that he was hardly surprised when he had visitors, though one in particular enjoyed gracing him with their presence often. He expected Seojoon to appear at any moment, either to prod at him on when his gun would be finished, or to fuck around and mess with his stuff. His favorite stuffed plush had to always stay hidden nowadays because he refused to let the other man use that as leverage for taunting or teasing. Speaking of the other man, Heysung let his gaze flicker over to one of his other computer screens, seeing the ping of motion drawing near where his location was. Perfect timing.

When the door opened he knew immediately who it was, barely shifting in his seat as his eyes ran over the script he had fleshed out, the blue of the computer screen making his skin even more ghostly. Seojoon, while his boss, was also the person he enjoyed annoying the most. Their relationship wasn’t entirely friendship, because Hyesung didn’t have friends, but it was comfortable. Just enough that he could easily give digs and push buttons without the risk of being beaten black and blue.

The comment had him snorting softly, coughing into his fist to hide it. He then lifted his hand and curled his fingers down to show his middle without looking from his screen, one hand typing a long line of code as he did so. “My hand is probably getting more action then you are right now. How’s your blueballs, Alpha?” he quipped back, scooting from his desk to rotate to the other side of him, the gun he was building for the other man out on display, already shaping up to be one of his best creations yet. The sleek exterior had even been engraved, the geometric wolf standing out proudly on the side. He almost wanted to keep it for himself, add it to his ever growing arsenal, but knowing that the other would be soon singing his praises made him reconsider just enough.

“Come check her out. Made some extra mods I think you will like. New clip, too. Better rapid fire and less recoil. Even threw in a silencer because I’m so fucking nice. Still needs some tweaking but I want to see how she shoots first.” While the clip itself was empty, he knew just from the click if the gun was working how it should. His passion for firearms was unmatched, already working in his mind what he could sell a lower quality replica for. However, customs as beautiful as this? Only ever for his gang.

He pushed himself a bit away to give the other room, grabbing his half eaten bag of malt chocolates and popping one in his mouth. “Also, fuck you? Like you don’t watch whatever I have playing on Youtube when you’re down here.” It may have been a coincidence that there was some semblance of hanging out under the guise of work but that's neither here nor there and he wasn’t going to acknowledge it if the other wouldn’t. Maybe it was just how they needed to operate, not to cross any weird lines past being boss and his subordinate, but at least it wasn’t awkward. Hyesung rather be hated then deal with that.

Why You Gotta Be So Rude? || @hyesungxvc

Ashton was excited to get out and vlog. He’d been have a good couple of days and being able to go out and truly enjoy himself was something he missed doing. He’d done a live the night before and his followers were anted either a boyfriend video or a video of him at his favorite places to eat. He wasn’t sure if Kai would want to be on camera so he’d promised them he’d ask about it. But he could definitely do a food video. “So, the first place I want to show you is Ahjooma’s! Their food is so good! Kai and I ho here all the time. I actually used to work here before the shooting. Now, it’d just be too much on my plate. No pun intended!”

He chuckled to himself and headed towards the restaurant. “Ashton! It’s so good to see you. We’ve missed your face around here. You and that pretty boyfriend of yours.” A blush covered his cheeks as he bowed to the Ahjoomah who owned the restaurant. “I will try to come often. I’m filming, today. So, I’ll make sure to eat well!” He grinned. He sat at the empty table, next to a table that was occupied by a boy that didn’t seem to be much older than him.

“Excuse me, I’m going to be talking as I eat and filming. I apologize if that’s annoying. There aren’t any other empty seats here. I’ll even pay for your meal as an apology.” Which was what he always offered to strangers who’d have to endure his vlogging. He knew that it would annoy some people. He shot the guy a quick smile and set up his camera so that he could record hands free.

Everything so far that day had been a blur. He knows he showered at least, which was probably the best he could do with the odd sense of delirium he was under. His feet took him someplace, food, he knew from the smell, but he wasn’t sure how he got there. He was also aware he had sat down and ordered, something simple but in a large portion, as he finally registered the voice of the woman before she walked from his table.

Sighing bodily he slumped forward, scrubbing at his eyes with his palms. The leather of his gloves were soothing as they were irritating on his skin, but it helped him stay alert enough to be aware of his surroundings. He was exhausted. Bigger orders did that to him, having him curled into a pitiful hunch over his desk, fingers working until they almost bled as he made sure everything was perfect. This also meant he was basically running on E, and while he definitely needed to lay down and pass out, he also knew that the ramen he’d been binging on wouldn’t be enough for today. This place was not new but he had never entered before, slightly on edge by how busy it was but also too tired to chance walking somewhere else.

This time he didn’t even murmur a thank you when his food was brought to his table, trying to block out the noise around him so he could focus on actually eating. He had gotten three solid bites in before a sound drew his attention away, eyes landing on the man that had taken up the table next to his own. He was pretty, Hyesung would give him that, but once the techie’s gaze caught onto what the blonde was about to do his initial attraction morphed into annoyance.

Why were the relatively attractive people the ones who irritated him the most? If Hyesung was a nicer, kinder person he would have just gotten up without a word, but he was running on pure spite and Hot6 so his tolerance for bullshit was relatively low. As low as to say that it was flat on the floor.

Just the thought of having to hear the blond beside him drone on in what he would assume a fake voice for an audience who probably only watched because they wanted in his pants made Hyesung’s irritation worsen. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with the noise when all he wanted was to finally have a meal after pulling an all-nighter for his previous order. He barely processed the words spoken to him by the man beside him before he grit his teeth, bangs falling in his eyes as he leant forward at first to gather his bearings. He then grunted and shoved his utensil into the bowl before leveling the other man with a hardened gaze, hoping to fully convey just how vexed he truly was. There was no way the other was leaving this conversation verbally unscathed.

Fingers prodded the front of the face mask he wore, hooking in and tugging it down to his chin before finally speaking up. “Or maybe you could do something productive instead of filming your fucking self eating. Do your mukbang at home, weirdo.” Dark eyes flickered over the camera before his gaze narrowed, his annoyance clear as day by how his brows pinched. “Also your setup is garbage. Get a better camera if you want to shoot something decent. The specs of that thing is God fucking awful.” He was sure that it may have been too much but Hyesung wasn’t feeling particularly friendly right then.