#-I apparently spent over half an hour writing this post

[scarletssienna]

I Was Heavenstruck

Summary - Wanda takes a liking for a young coffee shop worker. The only issue is, Wanda’s married. word count: 4.7k

Warnings - cheating, mommy wanda, age gap relationship, oral, begging, fighting, obsessed wanda, dom!sub undertones, angst

AN - milf wanda milf wanda milf wanda - I suppose I should post this rather than hiding all my writings in my drafts. Literally have like 3 currently held hostage begging to be let out. Part 2 here

18+ minors/men dni

Coffee shops have always been one of your favorite places. Luckily for you, your little college town had the cutest one. You’d applied nearly the second you’d gotten settled. Now you were happily on your third year of working there. You loved the busy work. It kept your mind occupied and distracted as you could focus on the coffee and making the customers happy. Recently, you found yourself getting slightly distracted at work. There was a woman who came in every morning at the same time. She would order the same cappuccino and chocolate croissant and sit at one of the corner tables while she caught up on emails. Lately, she had begun to get a little chatty. She would stop at the pickup spot, leaning over the counter as she would laugh and ask you about your day. The amount of darlings and sweethearts she used in each sentence never failed to make you blush. While she was older something pulled you towards her. You didn’t notice a ring on her finger. You found yourself quickly falling for her. Now, after two months of the same back and forth you needed more. Your hand shook as you wrote on a napkin your phone number. You placed it on the little dish visible next to the mug. You passed the dish over to her with a slightly shaky hand and a dark blush on your face. Her eyes glistened and riddled with confusion at your nervousness. She hadn’t seen your little note yet.

“Sweetheart, are you feeling okay? Maybe you should take a break. Come sit with me?” She offered as she set the dish down and reached to your arm. You shook your head politely declining. As much as you would love to sit with her, you couldn’t just leave what you were doing. There were other orders needed. She nodded and looked down at her mug as she went to pick it back up. It was her turn to blush as she noticed the note. She hummed a little ‘oh’ of contentment and understanding before hurrying to her typical table.

She was sitting there grinning to herself as she sipped her coffee. She pulled out her phone and you did your best not to stare as you tried to keep occupied. When you felt a buzz from your phone you glanced up at Wanda and your face quickly turned red as you locked eyes. Quickly, you looked away and pulled out your phone to see the notification. It’s from a new number with a simple text. “Hey <3”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

After three days of spending much longer than you would care to admit texting you finally worked up the courage to ask her out. From there you’d decided on sandwiches and a walk in the park after your shift on Friday. Nervous as ever you’d woken up much earlier than anticipated but spent the entire morning anxiously getting ready for work. You did your hair in a half-up half-down look with two pieces in the front. You then did a simple makeup look. You got dressed before heading to work. Watching the time like a hawk, just on cue Wanda came in. She walked to the counter and ordered her usual drink but disregarded the croissant.

Your smile when you saw her had been apparent. She seemed almost as nervous as you as she made simple small talk as you made her coffee. When you passed it to her she smiled and winked before heading to her table. By the time she’d come in you’d have half an hour left of your shift. She waited patiently as she read a book, glancing up at you every once in a while. When you finished your shift she seemed to be lost in her book. You disappeared into the bathroom to put on a bit more of a casual appearance, changing your shirt and stuffing your old one into your purse. Looking into the mirror you took a few deep breaths to gain confidence before walking towards Wanda. She hadn’t even noticed you approaching her until you carefully settled your fingers on her book, pressing it into her lap softly.

“Ready?” You smiled down at her before pulling your bottom lip into your mouth with a nervous giggle. She nodded excitedly and shut her book, putting it into her bag before standing up.

“Ready.” She hummed and looked down at you now. She stood just a few inches taller than you which always made you blush. Her hand reached down and held yours confidently as if they were meant to be that way. She then softly tugged you out of the cafe and outside. Once outside she smiled down at you. “Where to?” You smiled and led her to your favorite sandwich shop. The conversation flowed easily as she confidently led you around. Anytime you would move too slowly a soft squeeze would be applied to your hand as a reminder, causing you to hurry next to her side again. The two of you walked closely, arms brushing every once in a while. The touch barrier is typically broken after several dates have been broken almost instantly with Wanda’s constant desire to be close to you. You didn’t mind it though. Her closeness and gentle grazes and touches made you feel comfortable as you moved down the busy streets. Eventually, you made your way to the park. She led you to a blanket with a small picnic basket and a bouquet on top. How she had set this up without you knowing and had nothing happen to it surprised you. You grinned excitedly as she handed you the fresh pink tulips. You practically squeezed with excitement and wrapped your arms around her engulfing her in a hug. She pressed a gentle kiss to your temple as you spoke. The action causes you to stutter slightly.

“I’ve never been given flowers before.” You muttered softly and she smiled at you before wrinkling her eyebrows in confusion.

“A pretty girl like you deserves flowers. What a shame. I’ll just have to fulfill that desire for you now.” She said with a little wink as she sat down. She motioned next to her for you to sit and you obliged, setting the flowers next to you. “Any other desires you need to be fulfilled, pretty girl?” She asked with a small smirk on her face. You blushed a bright shade and quickly looked away from her gaze. Flustered, you reached for the sandwiches and passed her hers. She grabbed the picnic basket and opened it. Inside she pulled out some fresh strawberries she had sliced up, a small container of veggies and hummus, and a bottle of wine with two glasses. You giggled when you saw the wine and bit your bottom lip slightly.

“Wanda is like barely noon.” You teased her for her drink of choice. You’d just barely turned 21 and despite how many college kids behaved you rarely drank underage. It had all been very new to you. She just chuckled and poured two small glasses, passing one towards you. You two fell into a simple conversation as you ate happily. Eventually, somehow you ended up lying, looking up at the clouds with your head in Wanda’s lap. Her fingers tangled delicately through your hair as she relaxed in the closeness. From an outside perspective, you two were moving quite quickly. But in reality, this was months of pining and small talk. Finally, you two were able to be close and together. When Wanda’s phone rang for the third time in a row neither of you could ignore it anymore. You reached over and grabbed it for her, passing it to her. You tried not to be nosy and avoided looking at the screen to see who was calling. She declined the call and set the phone to the side. You thought for a second before looking up at her, deciding to ask.

“Who’s in such a need for your attention?” You asked as you took her hand that wasn’t tangled in your hair into your own hands. Softly you played with her fingers, directing your attention to the clouds.

“Other than you? Nobody that deserves it.” She stated simply as she smiled down at you. You smiled at the answer before sitting up and flipping around to face her. You kicked your legs over hers carefully draping them over her lap. Her hands rested on your legs with a smile.

“Hmm.” You thought out loud as you leaned in a little bit. “I want you to tell me something.” You stated as you reached up to her hands with one of yours.

“Mmhm.” She hummed in response, causing you to continue.

“I want you to tell me a secret. Something no one else knows.” You said as a matter of fact. She chuckled at you and raised one of her eyebrows.

“No one else, huh.” She questioned as she leaned in a tiny bit. You nodded in response as you awaited her answer. “I want to kiss you right now.” She replied in a little whisper as she glanced down at your lips. You wasted no time as you quickly closed the gap between you. She immediately kissed back as one of her hands moved to your waist and the other settled on the back of your head. It was gentle and sweet. Delicate almost. She didn’t want to spook you too much. You weren’t exactly satisfied with her softness. When she pulled away you glanced back and forth between her lips and her eyes.

“Wanna know my secret?” You asked, desperation heard through your voice. She just nodded as the scene unfolded in front of her. Carefully you made your way to straddling her lap. Her breath hitched in her throat as it was finally your turn to fluster her. “I want you to kiss me, kiss me, Wanda.” You stated as your finger pressed into the center of her chest softly. She leaned in to kiss you again. This time it was real. It was passionate and deep and everything you could ask for. Her hands grabbed at your hips as she pulled you closer, your body’s flush. Her tongue swooped against your bottom lip, eagerly seeking entrance. You obliged happily as your hips ground softly against her. When you two eventually pulled away you became suddenly very aware of your public presence. You blushed red as you glanced around before hiding your face in the crook of her neck. She held you close as her hand found a slow pattern tracing up and down your back.

The next few days were electric. Then weeks passed and you continued strong. You’d hit the three month mark of your first date last Friday and you just felt more encapsulated with Wanda's aura than ever before. Sometimes after your shift ends you two would walk around the shops that line the street. Other times it was late and you just needed a break from the textbooks. You would end up tangled up in the backseat of her car like a high school couple hiding from the world. Your favorites have been when she shows up for her usual at work. Several minutes after she’s served, you take a ‘break’ and disappear off into the bathroom for hidden kisses. Never once have you gone all the way though. And never once has the conversation of going to either of your houses come up: Until today.

When Wanda came in for her usual you saw her and a big smile grew across your face at the sight of her. It quickly faded as you noticed her discomfort. You frowned in confusion as you saw the man surprisingly close to her. His hand rested on her back as they quietly discussed their orders. Wanda looked quite uncomfortable but you didn’t notice as you were trying to figure out who the man with her was. You knew you recognized him but weren’t sure where from. When he came to order you immediately realized.

“We’ll take a cappuccino and,” he started but you quickly cut him off.

“Vision?” You asked confused before gasping. “Vision. No way.” You exclaimed. Wanda’s confusion was evident as you two shared shocked expressions and surprised laughter.

“Wow! Oh my gosh! What are you doing here? Wow. Wanda!” He exclaimed as he looked down at her. “Our families were quite close when we were young! They still are but after college started I kinda disappeared into my own world.” He said as he shook his head. “We practically grew up together. Well, she is several years younger than me but you know.” He teased slightly before looking back at you. “This is my wife, Wanda.” He smiled. The words hit you heavily and suddenly you noticed all of Wanda’s discomfort. She was married. Your smile faded and you heard the blood rushing in your ears. You covered it well as he happily carried on.

“Yeah, uh, we’ve met sorta.” You said with a squinted look. “She’s quite the regular here.” You said with a faint laugh.

“We have to catch up soon.” He said suddenly and you just nodded sheepishly. “Friday. We’re having a little party. It’d be great to have you. Bring a plus one if you’d like? Boyfriend? Friend? Whatever.” You just nodded in agreement before smiling lightly. You scribbled down your phone number before sliding it to him and mumbling about getting their orders. They ordered it to go before leaving. The look on Wanda’s face stuck with you. How could she not have mentioned she was married? What was she doing with you?

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Friday came quicker than you’d expected. Throughout the rest of the week, you’d avoided Wanda: Her calls, her desperate texts, even your typical work hours. What you couldn’t stay away from was Friday. But you had a plan. Natasha. Your best friend. You’d asked her for a favor and she was quick to agree. Vision had approved you bringing a guest so there you did. You had a bottle of wine in your hand. You both were dressed quite nicely. Natasha in a tight red dress that complimented her hair nicely and accentuated her chest and ass. You were wearing clothes nicer than you’d put on in forever. A tight black dress that hugged your hips just perfectly and left your chest quite out and exposed. Despite your pleas of denial Natasha had encouraged you to wear heals and boy did they do wonders for your legs. You knocked on the door and waited nervously. Wanda opened it with a desperate but nervous smile. It faded when she noticed you had a plus one. She was wearing a white jumpsuit, a little more conservative than you two but it had you blushing anyways. You exchanged awkward highs and smiles. She let you in with a fake smile as she attempted to seem normal.

“This is Natasha. My girlfriend.” You smiled fakely as you watched them introduce themselves.

“Your girlfriend! Wow yes. So nice to meet you.” Wanda bore fakely through gritted teeth. She knew you didn’t have a girlfriend. Vision didn’t. And you planned on making the whole scene very convincing. You two entered and Vision made his appearance. You and Natasha were quickly pulled off into a conversation, weaving your way throughout the crowded house. You both found drinks and made attempts at casual conversation with people. Natasha made the practice of being extremely touchy. She would lean down and whisper in your ear which caused shivers down your spine. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you blush. Wanda watched the two of you interact from her place as she sipped her drink quietly. The quick kisses you and Natasha would share and her quite apparent hand on your ass caused Wanda to squirm from across the room. Your drinks were set down as you two moved off to the side of the crowd. Her hands roamed across your body as if there was no one else in the room. She leaned down and whispered in your ear causing you to blush deeply.

“Who knew this would all come so naturally.” She paused, her hands settling on your hips as she pulled your body’s flush. “I want more.” She whispered before leaning down to kiss you deeply. Thus began a heavy make-out. Her tongue made a quick fashion of taking control of the kiss. You moaned as you opened your mouth further. Your hand tangled softly in her hair as she squeezed at your ass. You grumbled a little when she eventually pulled away. She wasn’t done yet. She leaned down once more to whisper in your ear. “Forget Wanda. I could treat you so right baby. Let’s just get out of here.” Your eyes flickered over to where Wanda was standing as you made accidental eye contact. She was schaithing as she faked enjoyment with the people surrounding her. Her eyes rarely left you. You couldn’t even tell if this was all an act anymore or not. You didn’t even have a chance to consider the proposition Natasha had put up when Wanda practically stormed over. She seemed to have taken your eye contact as a signal to come over. A giant smile plastered on her face when she reached out and touched your arm.

“Honey, can we step over here for a second? I’d love to just have a word with you?” She asked as her arm slid down to your hand, gripping it tightly. She didn’t wait for a response as she began pulling you off down a hallway and away from everyone. You glanced back at Natasha and all she did was wink. The house was bigger than you’d expected it to be. She looked around making sure no one was paying attention before pulling you up the stairs. She tugged you into the nearest room and you clumsily fell into her embrace. She shut the door, catching you carefully before pushing you up against the wall. “What the hell is all this?” She started, as if she was allowed to be the person upset here. Your eyes avoided her as you looked around the room, noticing a bed and dresser you were suddenly fearful she had brought you into her bedroom. The one she shared with her husband. “Oh don’t get your panties all tied in a knot, this is the guest room.” She said coldly as she shook her head. You pulled against her grip causing her to just tighten it. You looked up into her eyes as you struggled with what to even say. Her cold demeanor dropped suddenly as she sighed. Her hands fell to her sides and her eyes looked into yours, now glossy.

“When were you planning on telling me you were married?” You started, cautiously. “That you have this whole extravagant life. And you just sneak around with me.” You groaned. “Because you’re married!” You practically yelled causing Wanda to quickly snap her hand up and cover your mouth.

“Shh.” She hushed you softly. You shook your head, shaking her hand off of your face as you swatted at her.

“Don’t shush me.” You growled as you frowned. She sighed and took a step back, giving you a little bit of space. Your arms fell to your sides in defeat as you finally showed how you really felt. The pit in your stomach grew as you spoke quietly. “I just thought it was real.” You looked away from her and shook your head as tears filled your eyes. “Was any of it even real?” You asked, not even sure if you’d want to know the answer. She stepped back towards you again and cupped your face softly.

“Sweetheart, it was real. It was all real.” She said, her voice cracking as she spoke. “It was more real than anything I’ve felt in so,” she sighed. “So long.” You finally looked back into her eyes. They were glossy as tears threatened to fall. “I got in too deep.” She whispered. “I fucked up Detka. It was never supposed to go as far as it did.” She now looked away from you, feeling guilty. “You were just supposed to be my little distraction in the morning. My beaming ray of sunshine I would get to enjoy with my coffee. I fell for you though. I hoped the date would be terrible and would push us apart and I would lose interest.” She looked back at you. You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth and frowned. “I didn’t. In fact, I grew to really quite adore you.” She smiled a tiny bit. It was a sad, guilty smile that faded when she saw your frown. Her thumb wiped your tears away and she kissed your cheek repeatedly.

“You used me Wanda. You used me as a distraction from your sad, boring life, and unhappy marriage.” Your words were cold and mean. They took her by surprise but she knew it all already. She frowned and sighed.

“Please sweetheart. You have to forgive me.” She pleaded, her hands sliding down your face and down your arms to your hands. The tears that had been threatening to escape finally fell. She gripped your hands tightly in hers as she began to beg. “Please.” She leaned forward again and began to kiss at your face and neck. Between each kiss a beg or plead would follow. Her hands moved to your hips and back to your ass. Her hands stilled as she leaned to whisper in your ear. “It can be our little secret Detka. No one has to know.” She nipped at your earlobe slightly, causing you to groan. You felt sick sneaking around like this. Though there was something that drew you to the situation so strongly. It pulled and urged you against all of your better judgment. You broke, nodding weakly. She saw you nod and gasped relieved as she kissed you deeply, passionately. It was a kind of desperation you had never felt from her before. The feeling suffocated you. Her utter obsession with you fueled a fire in you you hadn’t ever even dreamt of. She dropped to her knees, looking up to you with desperate eyes.

“Let me thank you.” She murmured, her hands sliding up your thighs underneath your dress. You groaned at her touches and nodded again as your hand went to her hair. It gently tangled in her curls as she left wet kisses up your thighs. You separated your legs a little as you leaned up against the wall. She pulled your panties down your thighs and faked a gasp at the wet spot on them. “I’ve barely even touched you sweetheart.” She teased and stuffed your panties into her pocket, not planning on giving them back. You whined softly as you pulled her head closer to where you needed it. She immediately gave you the attention you deserved. She lifted your leg over her shoulder for easier access. Her head was immediately buried in your cunt as she licked moved as if she was starved. Her tongue moved skillfully through your folds and around your clit. You had to hold back gasps and moans as you fell back against the wall harder. A hand covered your mouth to stifle the moanes she created as she hungrily ate between your thighs. Your hand held tighter in her hair as you pulled her closely, directing her to what you liked. You could feel her smiling below you, this caused you to blush a dark color as you closed your eyes tightly. The embarrassment washed away as you only felt pleasure. Her tongue brought you to a quick orgasm. You bit down on your hand softly to muffle the moans she was so easily eliciting from your body. As you came down from the high you nearly fell over. She was quick to catch you as she held you up carefully. Your eyes were still closed as you leaned your head against the door, catching your breath tiredly. She wiped her face a little as she chuckled at your exhaustion. She leaned forward kissing you deeply. You kissed back with desire. You moaned as you tasted yourself on her. You whined into the kiss as it turned sloppy. She pulled you into her arms, holding you closely as you snuggled into her embrace, leaning your entire body weight on her.

“Come here darling.” She whispered soothingly as she held you. “Mommy’s got you.” She whispered instinctively. The nickname she used on herself caught you a little off guard at first. But you smiled and blushed at the comfort and fuzzy feelings you were feeling. She lifted you carefully and walked you to the bed before gently setting you down. You laid back on the bed and reached for her to lay with you. She stayed standing though and tried to part from your body. When she tried to let go of you your eyes snapped open and you whined.

“No mommy.” You complained and grabbed her clothes. She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, soothing your worries.

“I’m just going to grab some things to clean you up sweetheart I’ll be right back.” She whispered, causing you to reluctantly let go of her. She disappeared into the bathroom and was gone far too long as she collected some things. She returned only a moment later and sat down next to you. You squirmed up against her and she made gentle work of cleaning you up. Her hands gripped at your thighs causing you to instinctively open them for her, whining at the touch. She gently wiped you up before setting the wash cloth aside and carefully taking off your makeup. Your eyes stayed closed as you drifted off into a relaxed, sleepy state. When she finished she peppered soft kisses across your face before stopping at your lips. Her tongue was immediately seeking entrance again, causing you to moan and press your legs together once again. She pulled away when she noticed your reaction, tisking you no softly.

“Mommy’s sorry honey, no more tonight.” She hummed and soothed your cheek. You nodded and looked up at her with big eyes.

“The party.” You looked up with concern. She shook her head a little with a sweet smile.

“I have it handled. I’ll be right back okay?” She assured you as she waited to leave your embrace until you approved. You nodded and she stood up. She went to the mirror and fixed up her appearance. You turned your body so you could watch her, a small smile on your face. She smiled back at you before leaving the room and going downstairs. She explained to Vision that you were quite ill and would have to stay the night. When he offered to come up and help she politely declined, explaining how he needed to stay to finish up the party. He agreed and Wanda returned upstairs. She stopped in her room first and grabbed some pajamas before returning to the guest room, locking the door behind her. You reached for her impatiently, whines leaving your lips.

“Come here.” You murmured, clinging onto her jumpsuit when she was within reach. She stood next to the bed while you nuzzled your face up against her thigh. She took your phone from you one hair playing softly though your hair.

“What’s your password honey?” She asked, causing you to mumble it out. She typed it in before finding Natasha’s contact. She sent her a text saying she could leave and you would be alright for the night. You didn’t even question what Wanda was doing on your phone, all you cared about was being close to the older woman. She then set to work getting you out of your dress and into some comfortable clothes. All of her touches felt like fire on your body. You squirmed beneath her as her fingers grazed up your thighs. She then stepped back and changed out of her clothes. You watched in awe, biting your bottom lip as she stripped in front of you. Her confidence radiated as she didn’t even hesitate changing with your watchful eyes. When she finished she climbed in bed behind you. You scooted back against her body as she pulled you flush against her. You relaxed in her embrace, falling asleep quickly. All of your comfort would be taken away though in just a few short hours when she had to return to bed with her husband.

[iveleftitwithyou]

casual | paul lahote x reader smut

NSFW | 18+ | minors DNI | word count: 2.38k

warnings: smut, dom!paul, slight angst, mention of fighting, i think that's it?

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i asked you guys if i should post this now or incorporate it into ruderal, and the result was overwhelmingly to post it now, so here it is with some plot adjustments! i've been OBSESSED with this song by chappell roan and knew i needed to make it into an imagine, although this song is probably about a woman lol. highly recommend listening to the song as you read this. this is my first time EVER writing smut so i hope its not too bad - as always, let me know what you think :)

ALSO this is in an alternate timeline where the guys are all like 21+ and so is y/n :)

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Paul’s hand lingered on your thigh as he drove the winding road back to Forks, his thumb rubbing small circles on your outer leg. the radio hummed with a song you couldn’t manage to pay attention to, instead focusing your gaze on the motion of his finger on your bare thigh. while you assumed the gesture was meant to comfort you, it did a lot more than that. you hoped that the darkness would obscure Paul’s peripheral vision enough for him to not realize you were ogling his muscular arms and unusually large hands. his veins protruded in a way that drove you crazy for some reason, and as much as you were still upset with him, you couldn’t help the rush of hormones that flooded at the sight.

Embry had made some stupid joke about you at the bonfire at Emily's that night, a common occurrence when you hung out with the pack. he didn’t mean anything by it, you joked around with each other like that all the time, but Paul had been extra sensitive for the last few weeks as he spent more hours on patrol. Victoria’s looming presence and the mystery murders happening around Washington meant the reservation needed increased protection, and the men in the pack had to step up. Embry’s comment led to a fight where the pair both phased, snarling and snapping until they both came to their senses and things went back to normal. you hated when Paul shifted because of you, even if it was just indirectly your fault like it was tonight. 

you two were meant to be casual, despite Paul having imprinted on you, as you had just gotten out of a long-term relationship and weren’t ready to commit to someone again. you’d been seeing each other casually for months, hanging out, and getting to know each other better. as much as you were hesitant to let him into your life completely, you couldn’t deny your attraction to Paul. he’d been nothing but a gentleman thus far, bringing you flowers on dates, opening doors for you, and following your boundaries to a T, terrified to mess anything up with you. of course, his physical form was unlike anything you’d ever seen - you were lucky that he preferred to hang out without a shirt on. things had gotten hot and heavy between you two a few times but hadn’t gone farther than some very intense making out. though, the way Paul’s hand touched you now was enough for you to throw those boundaries out the window; you wanted him - no, needed him.

you focused your eyes back on the road in front of you, only being able to see as far as the truck’s dim headlights illuminated. breathe in, breathe out, you reminded yourself, trying to calm down the butterflies in your stomach. you were unsuccessful, and it didn’t help that Paul’s hand was inching closer and closer to your hips.

suddenly, his hand snaked further inward and his grip tightened, engulfing your inner thigh. your breath hitched, and you unsuccessfully tried to mask it as a cough. you saw Paul smirk out of the corner of your eye, but he didn’t look over at you. 

you once again reminded yourself to breathe as the ache between your legs became more apparent. his hand loosened its grip and continued its journey towards your core. half of you thought about stopping him purely as punishment for fighting with Embry, but the much louder other half wouldn’t dream of it right now.

you couldn’t help but let out a small groan as his hand finally reached your jean shorts, his fingers tracing the seam that ran between your legs. the slight pressure he applied drove you absolutely crazy as you wished for more friction.

the sound that escaped your lips seemed to do something to Paul as he let out a breathy groan of his own. “alright, that’s it,” he mumbled, turning the wheel toward the side of the road. he must have known exactly where you were because he easily pulled the truck behind a set of bushes that obscured most of it from the road. any passerbys, which were few and far between at this time of night anyway, wouldn’t notice the vehicle.

almost as soon as he slammed the gear shift into park, his lips were on yours. he kissed you with a passion you’d never felt before. you melted into his lips, reminding yourself for the third time that night that if you didn’t start breathing, you would pass out. he gripped the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair as you continued to make out. his other hand traveled down your arm, to your hip, and unbuckled the seatbelt you’d been wearing. in one swift, but slightly awkward motion, he disconnected your lips for a brief moment and grabbed each side of your hips, pulling you across the center console onto his lap. you were careful not to lean too far and hit the horn with your back as you settled onto him, silently thanking Paul for owning such a spacious truck. your knees settled on either side of his legs. 

as you sat down on his lap, you brushed his hardening length with the same seam of your shorts his hand was just on, eliciting a quiet moan from both of you. impatient, Paul once again gripped your scalp and slammed your lips together. you allowed your hands to slip underneath the hem of his shirt, feeling the outline of the muscles on his bare abdomen. this feeling, combined with the warmth radiating from his bare skin, drove you insane. 

“take- it- off-” you mumbled in between kisses, tugging the hem upwards. you were unsure of where the forwardness came from, but you didn’t stop long enough to be embarrassed. 

“you don’t get to tell me what to do,” he snarked half-jokingly but obliged.

the moonlight streaming in from the windshield was just enough for you to be able to see the outline of his pecs and abs, and you really couldn’t help but stare.

“like what you see?” he chuckled, noticing your eyes widening at his physique.

you nodded, unable to form words, instead opting to smash your lips back together with all of the strength you could muster. you’d had enough of looking flustered - you wanted to take initiative.

you raised your hips again, pushing your abdomen against Paul's and lowering yourself onto his member. you rocked your hips back and forth as he moved his lips down your cheek, then your jaw, and eventually to your neck. the friction as you continued to grind against him elicited a low growl against your neck as his lips attached to your skin. you moaned embarrassingly loudly as he sucked at the delicate skin, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be sheepish. in fact, the only emotion surging through your body right now was pure desire for the god-like man leaving a series of hickeys on your neck.

“Paul, that’s gonna leave a mark,” you whined. you knew you’d regret letting him do it in the morning but right now you wanted nothing more than for him to mark you as his. you wanted to be his.

“don’t want anyone else getting any ideas. you’re all mine,” he retorted, lifting his head up to look you in the eyes. his were almost completely black with lust. “say it.” he commanded, holding your jaw tightly in his hand. “say you’re mine.”

“i’m all yours, Paul” you panted, your hips continuing to move back and forth on Paul’s lap as you stared into his dark eyes. despite your relationship still being undefined, truer words had never been spoken.

“good girl. now shut the fuck up and get back in the passenger seat.” his harsh words did nothing to discourage you from obeying as you scrambled to sit back where you were a few minutes prior. this was a side of Paul you had only seen when he was angry: dark, commanding, dominating. usually, you would have to try to calm him down when he got like this, but right now, you were very much enjoying him telling you what to do. you already missed the warmth of his body on yours as you climbed back over to the other seat, but you instinctually knew better than to voice your complaints right now.

Paul leaned across the console, reaching his hand between your knees and under the seat to move it back as far as it would go. once he was satisfied with that, he reached across your lap and pulled the reclining handle, his other hand helping to lower the seat back slowly so you weren’t sent flying backward.

“scooch back” he ordered again, and you moved your hips backward on the seat, supporting yourself with your elbows on the very edge of the seat near the headrest.

you were confused as he opened the driver-side door and hopped out of the truck. you watched as he opened the passenger-side door, it becoming clear now what his plan was. you pulled your knees towards your chest as he climbed back in, kneeling on the floor mat in front of you. god damn, this truck was spacious, and you were incredibly grateful for that right now.

his large hands fumbled to unbutton your shorts. he pulled the zipper down and you lifted your hips, followed by your legs, so he could slide them off. not wanting to wait another second, he pulled your underwear to the side and connected his thumb to your clit. you let out a loud gasp at the sensation and he chuckled proudly, knowing how good he was making you feel. Paul rubbed small, tight circles on the sensitive nub for a few seconds before you felt a finger dip into your wet folds. a guttural moan escaped your throat as you finally got the sensation you had been waiting for since his hand had rested on your thigh earlier in the night.

he added a second finger shortly after and continued to pump in and out of your heat, his thumb continuing its circular motions on your clit. you could feel your orgasm building inside of your core, and it was almost euphoric knowing it was Paul making you feel like this.

“Paul, i’m gonna-” you moaned, getting close to the edge. “what the fuck?” he’d removed his fingers altogether upon hearing this and you were not happy about it. 

“patience, princess.” he chuckled, making eye contact with you once again as he raised his fingers to his mouth to taste you on them. you were still pissed at him for teasing you like that, but the sound he made as he licked your wetness off himself almost made it worth it. almost.

“let’s take these off, shall we? or should i rip them off?” his fingers slipped under the waistband of your underwear.

“don’t you dare,” the one rational brain cell you had left replied, lifting your hips for him to slide them off like he did the shorts. you liked this pair. Paul held your hips back down as he spread your legs open, leaning his torso over the seat until you could feel his breath between your legs, amplified by the wetness that had come with the teasing.

“god, you look so fucking good” he took a second to admire the sight before him before he groaned lustfully and connected his tongue to your cunt. he made quick work of finding all the right spots to hit, causing your legs to tremble and your eyes to roll back in your head. at this rate, you wouldn’t last long, but you never wanted this moment to end.

“oh, fuck,” you moaned as he continued to circle the sensitive nub with his tongue. you had never felt this connected to someone before, not any of your exes. no one had ever made you feel as good as Paul was in this moment. as he continued the motions of his tongue, you realized Paul was perfect for you in every way, including this one. it was like pre-nut clarity.

you felt the pressure building up again, somehow even stronger than last time, unable to contain your moans. “fuck, Paul, i’m gonna cum” you groaned, arching your back against the seat as Paul continued to hold your hips down harshly against it. you figured there would be bruises there tomorrow, and the thought of him marking you up even more only exacerbated your growing orgasm.

“cum for me, princess” Paul mumbled against your clit, giving you permission to let go. it only took a couple more swipes for you to come completely unglued against his mouth.

Paul gradually slowed down his motions, guiding you through your orgasm as your hips attempted to buck against his face, craving the stimulation. eventually, your brain started to function again, and the first thing you thought was that that was definitely the best orgasm you’d ever had. you couldn’t tell Paul that, though - it would boost his ego way too much, and he already had a huge one to begin with. the second thought that went through your head was that you were ready for Paul to be your boyfriend. no man could eat you out that good and get away from you.

he admired his work as you panted in front of him, a smirk of pride on his face. he loved knowing he was the one who made you feel so good. he raised himself up on his knees to hover over you, one arm resting on the seat to support himself as the other snaked behind your back to pull you to his chest. you wrapped your arms around his back, settling your face in the crook of his neck. your breaths were soon in time with each other, basking in the body heat radiating from the both of you.

you could have stayed like that forever, but after a few minutes, Paul pulled back slightly to look you in the eyes. he seemed deep in thought before he smiled and opened his mouth to ask you a simple question: “is it casual now?”

------

part 2 here :)

[hyunebunx]

saw the soft thoughts post and i hope i’m not late >.< please forgive my typos or grammatical errors love i just woke up 🥹

soooo imagine a lazy saturday morning with hyunjin where you both just wanted to sleep in and cuddle on your shared bet until late in the morning. apparently you had to force yourself to get up because you were getting hungry and hyunjin—being a clingy boyfriend—is sticking to you like glue, and be like “noooooo don’t go!!!” because he doesn’t want to get out of bed but you had to drag him up. he became a pouty baby while being clingyyyy maybe a backhug when you were cooking, a stolen kiss when you were about to eat, helping you wash the dishes but he put some soap bubbles on the tip of your nose, asked you to go out and the spend the rest of the day with him outside maybe stroll around the city, an art museum date, go to a café and watch him sketch/paint you~

ughh to be loved by an artist bro i’m still half asleep so i hope i’m making sense... anyway have a good one deni ! 😽🩷

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff and a loooot of kissing, you've been warned lol

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: my love <3 this is the cutest idea ever!! thank you so so much for trusting me to write it hehe <3 listen, this got quite steamy in the middle, idk what happened i blacked out fgsdgkj can't help myself when it comes to this man apparently. anywayss, hope you'll enjoy it <333

Mornings spent sleeping in with the love of your life, all cuddle up and intertwined, were truly your absolute favorite, a blessing you didn’t take for granted. You were both busy people, with busy lives that accommodated one another like it was the most natural thing in the world, fitting together like the last two pieces needed to complete the puzzle which revealed your love story.

Hyunjin was a heavy sleeper, clinging to every thread, no matter how thin, that transported him to dreamland to rest a little more. Just five more minutes, that turned into ten, fifteen, which ended up stretching into half an hour on good days. On the bad ones, when he was more tired than usual, nothing could get Hyunjin out of bed before the afternoon rolled around. You understood – he needed his rest – but it didn’t make missing him and his bright smile any easier.

You never knew you could miss someone even while they were dozing off next to you, blissfully unaware of how your heart almost jumped out of your chest to slip under his shirt just to feel his beating, desperately searching for confirmation he felt the same. And he did, of course he did, how could he not when your name and sweet face were constantly spinning around in his mind like some sort of live wallpaper, making him unable to concentrate even on simple tasks?

Though right now, neither of you was sleeping, cuddling to Hyunjin’s chest with one leg over his lap as you caught him up on the latest work gossip. You’ve been awake for almost two hours now and for once, the universe seemed to be on your side as no sunray managed to peek through the small crack left in the curtains, allowing you to continue lying around in peace.

“Anyway, so the printer caught on fire and that was Kim’s last straw. She threw all the papers on the floor and then proceeded to plop down on them and cry. I felt so bad.”

Despite his empathetic nature, Hyunjin lets out a short laugh, voice still husky and laced with sleep as his fingers tangled in your hair. “How did she even manage to do that?”

“It wasn’t her fault.” You yawn, hiding your face in his chest briefly. “Jay used the printer last to scan pictures of his cat’s toe beans and I guess some fur got stuck in there and ruined everything.”

He slowly shakes his head, whistling. “See, that’s why I’m a dog person.”

Prompting your chin on his chest, you look at him with raised eyebrows. “Ok Mr. meows at cats because he wants to get into their good graces.”

“That was one time!”

You giggle and he joins soon after, staring deeply into your eyes until the laughter dies down and every thought leaves your mind like it wasn’t even there to begin with. Dark eyes dart between yours and your lips, subconsciously licking his plush bottom one and telling you exactly where his train of thought has stopped. Patience was not one of Hyunjin’s virtues, so the hand in your hair moves lower to cup the back of your neck, bringing you closer as you quickly adjust, both hands sprawling on his chest to help you lean down and finally connect your lips.

The kiss is slow, lips merging perfectly as neither of you is in any rush, content to take the time to taste each other. However, it quickly gets messy, tongues meeting and complicating the familiar dance, making it hot and breathy but oh so delicious. You’d be lying if you didn’t admit you’ve been waiting for this ever since he woke up, constantly thinking about his rosy lips and driving yourself crazy as whatever he was saying faded in and out of hazy memory.

Hyunjin kissed you like no other, like kissing was an art he invented just to practice on you. One he managed to master throughout the years of your relationship but couldn’t get enough of, obsessed with the idea of improving and finding another unexplored corner he could take over and claim as his own.

A cold hand slides easily under your top, gripping at your waist in an effort to bring you closer, almost causing your arms to give out. You break away from the kiss and Hyunjin whines, displeased but still helps you settle on top of him more comfortably, guiding your body as you straddle his hips.

This new position allows for better access to what you’re both desiring, with Hyunjin wasting no more time in bringing you back down again, capturing your lips. With both hands on exposed thighs, the shirt he gave you to sleep in barely covering anything, Hyunjin loses himself in the taste of you, licking into your mouth and lightly biting on your bottom lip as your hands move lower over his stomach, needing to discard him of the annoying clothing.

You make to pull away but his lips follow, causing him to sit up and move one of his hands on the small of your back for support, not allowing you to slip away from him. With a mind of their own, your hands quickly abandon his shirt and move around his shoulders, meeting at his nape to deepen the kiss and lick at his bottom lip which he appreciates by the groan he lets out.

You feel him everywhere, hands groping and squeezing every bit of your body in the exact way he knew you loved, turning you to putty into his hold. By now, his dark hair is a mess from all the pulling – your fingers needed something to anchor onto.

“Hyun.” You inhale deeply, his lips moving down your jaw, restless.

“Yeah, baby?” He mumbles, barely hearing you.

“Breakfast.” You gasp out as he lightly bites the skin, quick to soothe it with his tongue. “I’m hungry.” Mostly true, you’ve been lying here for hours after all, who wouldn’t be hungry? But also because you knew if you didn’t stop him now, neither of you would get to eat anything before dinner time rolls around.

Hyunjin pauses, hot breath fanning your neck as he slowly tilts his head to look at you, his wet and swollen lips distracting. He’s speechless for a moment, almost like he can’t believe you interrupted him, like a child whose favorite toy is abruptly taken away. When it clicks in his head you are actually serious, Hyunjin barely registers the way you peck his lips as he rolls his eyes.

“Wow, ok connoisseur of romance. What a way to ruin the moment.”

You giggle as he gently lays you down on your back, knowing he could never be truly upset, no matter what kind of stunt you pull. He was most likely thankful you said something, surely hungry himself.

Scooting towards the end of the bed, your feet barely get to touch the hardwood floor before Hyunjin’s arms circle your middle once again, pulling you to his warm chest without a word.

“No, don’t go!” He whines, burring his head in your shoulder in protest.

Your heart squeezes in your chest, pounding from all the love you carried for your other half, the man you couldn’t imagine life without.

“Baby.” You coo, softly running your fingers over his hands on your stomach in a way to coax him. “How am I supposed to cook us breakfast otherwise?”

Hyunjin sighs, squeezing you to his chest for two more heartbeats before releasing his hold and allowing you to stand up. When you turn to face him, one of his big hands has already brought yours to his lips to plant a feather like kiss on your knuckles.

“Don’t go without me.” He mumbles, pouting slightly, and you almost explode like a piñata, staining him with your love and adoration that will surely trap him in this apartment for days trying to get it out. Not like he’d ever mind if that were possible, proudly showing off and talking about your feelings for him to anyone who’d listen, right after talking their ear off about the love he holds for you.

So, that morning, you waddle together to the kitchen like two penguins with Hyunjin refusing to stop hugging you from behind even when you started cooking. And after that, spoon feeding you on the counter and forgetting all about his needs until you threatened to take away his cuddles.

He caved in immediately.

[peachdues]

Heyy, so I was wondering if you could do the "I'm gonna fuck all memory of him out of your head" nsfw for Sanemi? ty and have a great day lovely 🥰

ONLY YOU

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA (NSFW)

PEACH'S 2.K MILESTONE EVENT

CW: explicit sexual content • MDNI • FWB (maybe toxic?? Idk) • titty slapping • slightly mean Sanemi • creampies • mentions of toxic cheating ex-bf • getting folded in half like a lawn chair • I think I blacked out while writing this • not proofread in the slightest

“I told you when we started this not to expect anything from me,” you were surprised at the way your voice remained calm and steady, even though internally, you felt anything but. “You’ve no right to get jealous over me going to see him.”

Him being your ex-boyfriend, whose apartment you’d just left after spending the night. You knew it was a mistake; you’d known it the second you let the asshole lay you down on his couch and felt the hard press of his cock against your upper thigh as he kissed you with those lips that were so warm and familiar.

Your intentions had been pure when you’d gone over there to collect the last few of your belongings that neither of you had realized he’d still had until a good three months after your breakup. But then he’d offered you a glass of wine, and the two of you sat on his soft, plush sofa — the sofa that used to be yours, just like that apartment; just like him — and got to reminiscing about old times. And then he’d looked at you with those eyes, so sad and so full of regret at the way he’d thrown a three-year long relationship out the window like garbage for the sake of some one-night stand on a work trip with a woman whose name he couldn’t even remember, and you’d caved.

Because really, it felt nice to pretend like nothing had changed, and that he would rock your world and then order Chinese food so the two of you could cuddle and watch some dumb movie while you ate; just like old times.

But everything had changed, and that apparently included your post-sex ritual of takeout and TV, because the moment he’d finished spurting his pleasure onto the curve of your ass, he’d tossed you your discarded shirt and said he’d see you around.

You tried to pretend like the fact he’d used you for a quick fuck hadn’t stung, but you’d walked out of your old apartment still feeling a little bruised.

But you sure as fuck weren’t about to let the quietly fuming, white haired, abrasive, jackass standing in your new living room make you feel worse than you already did; no chance in hell.

Said jackass was really your long-time friend, Sanemi, who, for the past three months, had been at your disposal as you sought to satisfy your urge to be fucked absolutely senseless on a regular basis. The two of you had been friends since college, and had spent the better part of your adulthood ignoring the sexual tension which mounted between you the more time you spent together, huddled away in the dingy corners of your university’s library to study, or late night dining hall runs when neither of you could sleep.

You’d kept in touch for a time, even after you started dating your ex, but admittedly, you hadn’t been the most exemplary friend to the hothead with the heart of gold.

But then, you’d found yourself single and alone in a brand new apartment with nothing but a pile of moving boxes full of memories youndidnt want to revisit and a mattress on the floor. So instead of unpacking, you choose to reach for your phone to shoot a text to your old college friend.

Sanemi agreed to meet up for coffee within minutes of you messaging him. Within a matter of hours, you found yourself back at your new home, face pressed down into your mattress and your ass in the air as you let yourself forget that there was a world beyond the feeling of Sanemi’s cock ramming into your desperate, sopping core.

Only after you’d been thoroughly filled by his cock and cum were you able to form a coherent thought, and so, you’d propositioned him with an offer for a friends with benefits situation — on the sole condition that no one caught feelings.

Sanemi hadn’t hesitated in agreeing, sealing the deal with a rough yet intoxicating kiss as he hooked both of your legs over his shoulders and took you again until you passed out from exhaustion.

Things had been running smoothly, with both of you holding up your end of the bargain — until a few weeks ago, when you’d casually mentioned that you were texting your ex again and Sanemi’s mood had soured considerably.

Not that his apparent jealousy had tempered him when it came time to reduce you to a sobbing, trembling mess beneath him — if anything, he seemed more committed to blowing your mind and back each time the two of you met up.

But you’d blown him off in favor of going to your ex’s only to end up leaving feeling emptier than ever. Only now, you somehow felt lower because beneath the judgmental irritation in his pretty, lavender eyes, Sanemi looked hurt.

“I don’t,” he said tightly, his arms folded tightly across his chest, those mouthwatering biceps rippling slightly. “I just don’t like getting ghosted without so much as a courtesy text.”

You winced, realizing that, in your haste to see your ex, you’d indeed forgotten to tell Sanemi not to bother stopping by. But you were feeling vulnerable and truthfully, you just wanted him to stop looking at you like a kicked puppy. Because, though it pained you to admit it, it broke your heart a little.

Perhaps Sanemi wasn’t the only one who was catching feelings.

But you weren’t about to admit any of that, and so you only mirrored his stance, crossing your arms and jutting your hip out, cocking your head at him. “Oh yeah? Then you won’t mind if your services aren’t needed tonight?” Guilt settled heavy in your gut like a stone as Sanemi deflated slightly at your jab.

That guilt wasn’t enough for you to resist taunting him a bit. “Because I’ve had all about I can handle for the day,”

Sanemi took the bait.

“I find that hard to believe,” he scoffed, his eyes running sensually over you as you stood there, defiantly glaring at him. “‘Cuz you’re not satisfied until you’re damn near passed out,”

He sauntered over to you until the heat rippling off his body threatened to burn you, too. A jolt of electricity shot down your spine as he leaned in close, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he whispered, “And babydoll, you’re still standing.”

Without warning, Sanemi’s arm shot out and wound around your waist, hauling you flush against him, your noses nearly bumping together. Your eyes fluttered shut at the gentle caress of his warm breath against your lips, awaiting one of his needy, bruising kisses of which you often found yourself daydreaming about.

But a kiss did not come; rather, Sanemi only spoke a promise that sent chills rippling over your skin and unleashed a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

“I’m going to fuck all memory of him right outta your pretty little head.”

Unsurprisingly, Sanemi made good on his word; for not twenty minutes later, you found yourself draped over the back of your sofa, the silvery-blonde fucking you so deeply, you weren’t sure you even remembered your own name, even if you somehow still knew his.

The edge of your couch dug uncomfortably into the small of your back, and idly you wondered whether the force with which Sanemi was pounding into you would cause your spine to snap clean in half. If it did, you probably wouldn’t care; not when Sanemi had one of your legs lay flush against his torso, and the other wrapped tightly around his hips to desperately clinging on for dear life as his cock bullied in and out of your dripping cunt.

A warm, calloused hand teasingly traced up your stomach until it came to your breast, squeezing harshly as Sanemi savored how it jiggled beneath his palm with every bruising thrust of his hips against yours. Your eyes rolled back as Sanemi slapped the plush mound lightly around your nipple, a breathy moan falling from your lips as your walls clenched tighter around him.

“Fuck baby, you like that?” Sanemi’s gravelly voice called you back down to earth as his hand repeated the action on your other tit, a whine tearing from your throat. He chuckled at the way your cunt grew sloppier with every repeated smack against your chest. “Naughty girl.”

Sanemi’s lips latched around your stiffened nipple as his hand rose to pinch and roll the other between his fingers, the pace of his hips never faltering. “Tell me — fuck — sweetheart,” he ground out against your skin. “Did he make your pussy this fucking sloppy?”

As though to emphasize his point, Sanemi swiveled his hips harshly against yours, repeating the move over and over until your living room was filled with nothing but the sounds of your whimpers and the lewd squelching of your cunt.

“N-no,” you managed to stammer out, fingers digging harshly into his hair as Sanemi’s mouth sloppily danced to the valley between your breasts. He seemed please with this answer, as his other hand worked between your sweat-slicked bodies to work furiously at your clit.

“That’s right,” he growled. Sanemi pulled off you in favor of standing up, his cock reaching a spot even deeper within you as his thrusts grew sloppy. His grunts began to be tempered by a slight whine as he drew closer and closer to his climax, his thumb rubbing steady circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves between your thighs.

With a slight graze of his nail against your clit, you came apart around him with a scream, back arching impossibly higher as you howled his name. Sanemi rode you through the waves of your pleasure, the heavy smack of his balls against the underside of your ass guiding you back down to reality as you realized you still weren’t satisfied — you wouldn’t be, not until you felt him spill inside you only for him to fuck his seed right back into you.

“Sanemi,” you whined, your hands grabbing blindly for him, desperate to bring him closer.

Sanemi chuckled under his breath. “I know what you need, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I’m gonna give it to you.”

His hands were surprisingly gentle as it lowered the leg you had hooked over his shoulder and unlatched the other from around his waist. He tugged you forward slightly over the edge of the couch, bending your legs at the knees and pressing them back against your sides.

He was buried deep within you now, the new angle allowing the blunt tip of his cock to press against that one spot that made your toes curl, again and again. As your whimpers devolved into cries of overstimulated pleasure, Sanemi leaned down close to your face, his lips teasingly grazing yours as his pace quickened.

“And did you let him cum in your sweet little pussy, baby?” The look in his eyes almost would have been cruel, but it was undercut by the faintest trace of insecurity. “Do I have to fuck that out of you, too?”

But you were so lost in the post-orgasm haze that you did not answer; at least, not until Sanemi slowed the relentless pistoning of his cock into your spent cunt, and the resulting friction became intolerable.

“I asked you a question, princess.” Sanemi said mockingly, ducking his head to graze your throat with his lips, before giving a mighty thrust of his hips, as you cried out. “Answer me. Did he cum in you?”

“N-no!” Your answer was choked off with a hitched gasp as Sanemi resumed his previous pace, intent on reaching his end and giving you what you both wanted — your cunt, stuffed to the brim with him.

“Only you, Sanemi,” you blubbered, tears of pleasure and pain gathering in your eyes as your arms tightened around his shoulders, clinging onto him like he was salvation’s incarnate. “Only you get to cum in this pussy!”

Sanemi’s groans turned to low growls as his hips snapped against yours, the coil in his gut tightening as you continued to babble, only you only you only you only -

[chocosvt]

HER | part five.

✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 23.8k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

(!) warnings: drug use (weed, cocaine, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.

✧✎ a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!

the fic is told from wonwoo’s pov, not the reader’s! 

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

any smut or potentially triggering scenes are NOT MARKED bc the content is already quite mature, so just plz be aware of that! 

bolded and italicized text implies the characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesn’t happen often!

the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts.

posting a bit earlier tn since i've got work tmo morning! i can't believe there is only one part left after this one!! :o

last chapter was angst up to the eyeballs so hopefully this one mends some of that heartache <3 still, much has yet to happen! this chapter contains one of my fave scenes teehee.

⇢ part one | part two | part three | part four | part six ⇢ soundtrack for those curious! ⇢ read at ur own pace! :)

—AUGUST 3RD.

The last time Wonwoo had been at your apartment to help you write, it was around the evening, into supper. He remembered the scent from the three-wick candles lit up in the kitchen—bonfire and vanilla—which you insisted was a necessity because it was the perfect way to relax your tense mind. Deciding not to cook, you had ordered Chinese takeout instead, and the entirety of the evening was spent sitting criss-cross on the comfortable rug splayed across the living room floor, indulging in warm food, writing, and letting the TV flick through a random season of your favourite drama show.

It was perfect.

Even now, as he sat on the bench across the street from your apartment complex, Wonwoo could still recall all the infinitesimal details—the fried crunch to every vegetable-filled spring roll, how the candles softly crackled when you blew them out at the end of the night, your small and very sleepy voice bidding him goodbye as you walked Wonwoo downstairs into the lobby—each memory sprung alive with such vividness. Wonwoo wished he could be poised outside your apartment knowing everything was the same; undamaged and intact. But that was an outcome too blissful for reality to maintain.

You had a specific nightly routine, particularly on Thursdays, after work: showering, followed by having a quickly thrown together dinner, applying a face mask, and then a movie before bed. He found himself memorizing a lot of your patterns over the months.

Wonwoo hadn’t texted you—he was doing this completely unprompted, without an inkling of his arrival. Maybe that was a terrible idea which should be discarded for something gentler and less likely to explode in his face, but that would only lead to more ruminating and more ruminating meant less doing.

The thing was, it was nearing eight o’clock. Wonwoo had been sitting on the bench for almost a half hour while the sun gradually sank, watching the occasional green leaf flutter down from the chestnut oaks adorning and shading the parkway behind him. The longer he waited, the further the shadows of the trees stretched, until he was completely engulfed and framed alone underneath their dark, cool silhouettes. Light still spilled across the street, igniting the space where everyone else was strolling, each person steadfast in their pace to be somewhere that wasn’t a sunset orange city street.

Breathing out slowly, Wonwoo glanced down at his hands.

It was like the first time he met you.

Just suck it up. Go do it.

He walked between the trimmed hedges that led to the complex door. The lobby area was exactly as he remembered it, though Wonwoo had come to learn those little complimentary desserts and cucumber waters set out the first day he visited you were no longer a thing, which you had vehemently complained to him about during a brief promenade through the park—another one of your palate cleansing ideas.

“Oh! Those pastries, by the way—they stopped doing them! I heard about it from my neighbour when I went down to get the mail. I was pissed, pissed, pissed! Apparently, there’s a lady who made them specifically for our complex because her grandson lived there. Well, he’s moved out now, so we all got fucked! If I don’t get my cute little lemon square with the raspberry on top and the powdered confectionary sugar all placed in a decorative doily, I will legit kill myself. Something has to be done… hey—can you bake, at all?”

Hence your immeasurable disappointment when Wonwoo revealed to you that he wasn’t notably talented at baking. Still, the incident provoked him to spend at least an hour a night researching different recipes for lemon squares that he could manage to pull off if given enough time and a handful of supplemental trial and error.

Wonwoo pushed the button to the elevator.

The heartbeat heavied in his chest while waiting for the doors to pull apart, the anticipation and nervousness coming down hard like thick snow flurries. A commercial ding at last echoed throughout the vacant lobby. Wonwoo immediately stepped into the small, confined space, feeling his breaths begin to drag, becoming almost audible in his desire for more oxygen.

Without a doubt, this was probably the hardest thing Wonwoo had ever done in his life. Even moving away from the comfortability and closeness of his family in Changwon—no matter their disagreements or quarrels—couldn’t compare to the emotion so palpably tugging within him akin to an ocean tide under a full moon.

He felt every twinge, but he was still doing well to maintain his composure, though Wonwoo couldn’t help himself from fearing that the control might leave him in the cold wind of seeing you again.

To look into your eyes could feel quite dissecting and Wonwoo didn’t know if he was yet strong enough to stomach the scrutinization despite how warranted it was. The best he could do was to expect nothing—this wasn’t about gaining closure, or basking in the liberation from righting a wrong—it was about the effort of accepting a profoundly hurtful problem he caused. You were hit front and centre by the shrapnel and you deserved to hear acknowledgement.

At the moment of reaching your floor, he didn't knock straight away.

Wonwoo stood outside the unit for a moment, removing his glasses and pulling at the sleeve to his large black hoodie, massaging away a smudge from the lens. After fitting the frames back to his face, he knocked. Each breath was fluttery. He tried so damn hard to soothe himself because life was unfortunately not a loop of constant aid and permanent reassurance and sometimes there was no other option but to be discomforted. At least he had his own company.

There was no movement from behind the door.

Swallowing very dryly, Wonwoo knocked again.

Nerves twisted in his stomach and turned his complexion pallid, though it was just on the edge of manageable and Wonwoo would have otherwise been quite proud if not for the lock suddenly clicking and the gentle, slow twisting of the doorknob. His fist clenched, the blunt nail on his index finger picking at his scarred cuticle.

Even when he saw you—Her—for the first time in over a month, accompanying the liminal doorway, staring back at him with an expression that he could use an entire pencil detailing, Wonwoo was able to sustain his control. Still, his heart was fucking racing.

Your eyes were wide, glassy, though somewhat veiled by the dip in your brows that began to gradually furl deeper in their recognition of his presence. He felt his stomach drop faster than lightspeed when a frown twitched into your lips, distorting the surprise in your face to anger, while the fingers at your leg curled into a rigid fist. There was a dewiness to your bare cheeks and a sweetened aroma from your skin that suggested you had gotten out from the shower not too long ago.

Wonwoo relaxed his hands.

“Hey.”

Expectantly, you said nothing.

There was a rolling, emotional sea unabashed to your face, continuously morphing between every shade of wrath within the sticky silence. Wonwoo worried you might slam the door shut.

He needed to say something fast.

“I know what you want to do—you want to close me out. I get that. I can see it all over your body. And, believe me, I understand.”

Your hand grabbed the edge of the door. That initial glassiness in your eyes only grew glimmerier; the frown tacked onto your mouth somehow threaded with even more fulgurant rage. He could see that you were going to snuff him into nothing, like grabbing onto a candle wick with your fingers despite the hot wax and flame.

But it couldn’t end so abruptly.

Wonwoo held up his hands, baring his palms in defense.

“Just—okay. Her, I hurt you. Hurt is even too weak of a word to use. I know that. I promise I do. I know what I did… and… and I know that I must have some fucking gal to come here unannounced after everything I said, but I've got an explanation. I swear.”

There was notable uplift in his chest, watching your grip loosen on the door, fall down to the handle, losing the hostility. Wonwoo paused to catch his breath, ensuring his eyes never wavered.

 “And… if you decide to listen to me… and you still really don’t want me in your life… I-I can respect that. If all you want is for me to disappear and never bother you again… I can respect that…” he felt sick just voicing it, like he could faint at the prospect. “It might be such a stupid fucking thing for me to say, considering how I treated you, but I genuinely want to do whatever will make you happiest.”

Was it good enough? Feasible, even marginally?

Wonwoo didn’t know. He could only stand in place and study the metamorphosis of your face—from deep-seeded anger, to something pained and unintelligible, and now, contemplation. The inner monologue in your head was probably running on overdrive.

Your fingernails carved into the door.

He kept quiet, waiting, until you quickly wiped something from your cheek and swallowed the lump in your throat.

“… Fine,” you uttered in a raspy, weak tone.

Relief struck him like a breeze during a heatwave.

“Thank yo—”

“But if I say I want you to leave, then you will leave, and you will not say one word on your way out my door or spare me one glance, even if it’s from the corner of your fucking eye.”

Wonwoo was staring straight into your gaze, then shifting to the pointed finger sticking in his face. You were deadly serious.

He nodded.

Finally, however, you stepped aside to let him in.

Wonwoo didn’t know if he should sit or stand. If he should grab a stool at the marbled kitchen island or come to fit himself at the edge of the cream sofa. The interior was pretty much identical to his previous visit, though he realized that a few potted plants you once kept by the elegant floor-length windows were missing—he’d assumed they’d died—it was probably somehow his fault.

“Um, where should we—where do you want to—”

“Kitchen.”

With your arms folded stiff, you walked behind the island.

He stood on the opposite side, knowing it was likely not a coincidence that you opted to put a barrier between yourselves.

It was a foolish idea and he would certainly not extrapolate, but Wonwoo wanted to ask about you. He wanted to know how your work was going at the beauty salon, if you had any more obnoxious dinner parties with your parents—were you still writing? To even look at you from across the hard countertop, captured in the quiet dimness of your kitchen, with your soft and bare face and those cute silk pyjamas, was enough to stop his heart if he allowed it.

Wonwoo pushed up his glasses, sighing.

“Before I explain anything… I just want to say—”

“I don’t care about that,” you interrupted without hesitation, eyes scalding and sharp, “I know you’re sorry. It’s the least you could feel after everything you said to me. I don’t care.”

“R-Right…” he trailed off, sensing the heat from the overhead lights as though they were shining directly into his face. Wonwoo pulled at the sleeves of his hoodie, gulping, “I guess you want to know—"

“Why. I want to know why you did what you did.”

“Why?” He echoed dumbly.

“Yes, why. Pull out an entire script and apologize—I don’t want that. Acknowledge what you did—good for you. I’m glad you can see how fucked up it was, all while I had to cope with your analysis on why I’m such a god-awful person. People say sorry all the time. I know it can be genuine. I just don’t care. Sorry doesn’t help me understand. Sorry doesn’t take away the weeks I lost, tearing myself apart. Sorry doesn’t mean fucking anything to me if all you’re apologizing for is something I already lived and breathed.”

“No, that—yeah, it makes sense...”

His fingers suddenly gripped the edge of the island, knuckles ivory white. Your intensity was more disorienting than a drug, but Wonwoo knew he needed to stay calm. Breathe. Listen.

“Okay, so?” You shrugged. “Tell me, then.”

“Why I did what I did…” Wonwoo exhaled, staring at his reflection in the marble while his mind twitched into complete blankness. “Well... I-I guess I was feeling… there was a lot I was feeling and... fuck.”

At the last second, he scraped everything he was going to say.

Wonwoo then looked up at you, who was so cold and reluctant.

“You know, um… before I met you, I had a girlfriend. I know I've never mentioned it. But her name was Jeanie. I met her at the university, actually. She worked in the Morrison library—like, the big stone building that looks like a castle, almost. Anyway. I met her because I needed to sign out a textbook for this elective I was taking and she helped me find it… Jeanie. Yeah. I don’t know if you ever saw her or—she was really shy. But I felt like she listened well, no matter what you were saying, or what you were talking about. She would give you her full attention. And… I just remember thinking… I could tell you anything, Jeanie. I could tell you I fucking pushed someone in front of a bus and you would wait and listen and hear me out until the end. She would make you feel… normal… human.

But—the thing is—I’m sort of laughing because I’m saying all this now, but… at the time, even despite my love for her, and how much I trusted her… I just… I kept her out. I didn’t think it was a bad thing. She knew I had anxiety, but never knew how bad. I never told her I stopped taking my pills. I never told her my actual feelings about anything… like, despite having this perfect person in my life, I still couldn’t open up. I didn’t think there was much harm to it, either. It would cause tension. Things would get… uncomfortable… but as long as she was there, I was like—I can get away with this. I don’t need to really discuss anything. She will always be here.

And then… one day… she just… wasn’t… uh—ahem—sorry, just—something in my throat, b-but, uh… yeah. She was gone. All her clothes, all her belongings: toothbrush, makeup, clothes, stuffed toys, notebooks, mugs, house decorations. It was all gone. I remember coming home to an apartment that was stripped bare. Like a skeleton. She took every part of herself from it. And all I could do was dumbly stand there and look at the bones.

Her number was disconnected, too. There was no one I could get a hold of that would tell me anything until I got this weird, vague email from her mom. ‘My daughter won’t be seeing you anymore. She’s safe. No need to worry.’  Those words picked themselves into my brain. I would go to sleep seeing them. I would repeat them in my head all night, and wake up with them still chiming. And I thought to myself, with all the weight in my heart… how could she do this? How could she leave and take everything and erase me without a word? It had to be her and it had to be the world just proving my point: being vulnerable, trusting, expressive—it isn’t worth it.

I really, truly believed it. I mean, I held onto it. I always looked at her as the one with the issue, but—fuck—it was me. I was the fucking issue. I… I must have made her feel so unimportant. I probably confused her, destroyed our trust, fucked up her concept of love. Like… I made her feel so trapped… that she felt the best thing to do was disappear, because there was no other way out… I made her feel that way. Me. It was me the entire time. And… I never really processed that until you were six feet away, screaming at me, cursing me up and down in the same living room I came home to that day, all emptied out. I had it out with you, the way I never had with Jeanie…

And the truth is, Her… I kind of… I always sort of knew I had that problem. I lived without ever wanting to acknowledge it. But I never really… I-I basically… I didn’t care about fixing it until I met you.”

Wonwoo tilted his head and stared at your quivering bottom lip, the shininess to your razor-sharp eyes, the manner in which your fingernails were sinching indents upon the skin of your biceps.

He paused, chuckling.

“I know I already told you… but you used to terrify me. I didn’t think we would ever mesh. Whenever I looked at you, I saw someone who knew herself, and I was so severely the opposite. But miraculously, I guess, you ended up being the person I feel the most comfortable with… when I see someone strong like you unravel, it makes me want to unravel, too. The trust I had for you was infinite.”

From across the island, Wonwoo noted how your eyes momentarily drifted down. A lump was sitting square at the base of your throat and it took a very dense swallow for you to even speak.

“… Had?” You whispered with a sniffle, hugging yourself.

Rolling out his shoulders, Wonwoo frowned.

“It was the party, Her. If you remember us talking in the guest bedroom… I told you that story about my brother and I, about my decision to move from Changwon… you’d nearly grappled Bells down to the ground an hour before. You apologized to me because you thought it ruined my night, but I promised you that it was fine, that I would always be here for you. And then we split ways. And you… you were… well, there’s really no clean way to say it but—”

“I had sex with Mingyu.”

“Uh, well… yeah.”

You shook your head. “He’s my boyfriend, Wonwoo.”

“I know, I know. It makes it sound stupid but—”

“No—wait. You’re pissed at me because I chose to have sex with my boyfriend? Are you—are you hearing yourself?”

“Her, please, listen—”

“I went through all of your bullshit because of that!”

“Can I just—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“It was because I liked you!”

Wonwoo’s heart was thumping almost audibly against his chest while his veins soared with adrenaline. Your fists were sitting, balled, on the kitchen island, though they began to unfurl as the weight cupping his confession—which was a mild version of what he truly meant to say—hung in the air like the plumes from a wildfire.

“I liked you, a lot," he admitted, watching your eyes slim with confusion, "and I’m sorry if that ruins us even more… but it’s true.”

“Wha—what—no. What do you mean you liked me? You liked me as in what? You liked me in a crushy silly way that’s just for fun, o-or you liked me in a serious way, that’s like, you want to… you want…”

Your mouth hung open, shoulders hunching.

His teeth gritted. “I thought I could… I wanted to…”

“Please just spit it out.”

“I wanted to be with you. I wanted to be your boyfriend.”

Flares of heat melted slow across his face. Wonwoo could feel his temperature climatically rising. Still, it wasn’t the entire truth. His likeness wasn’t just that—it was a fully blossomed and unshakeable love. Though, he figured it might be too much, too suddenly.

“O-Oh…” you stuttered, “… and, you thought that…”

“Maybe you felt the way I did. Not that I’m going to ask if you did or didn’t. I mean, this was over a month ago. I’ve had lots of time to myself. I’ve been thinking plenty… the point is, I let those feelings affect my clarity and that’s why I felt so hurt. I felt like I was so open and candour just to kinda have it… thrown back in my face. But it just seems like every relationship I have, I sabotage it somehow… I didn’t go about us in the right way—not at all. It blew up into something terrible. I wish every day that I would have handled it differently. But I didn’t. I kept my mouth shut when I should have just talked to you.”

“Oh… god, Wonwoo.”

“I-I don’t know. It was late, and I was high—you were off a line of coke for fuck’s sake—I just—in that moment, didn’t it feel… like we were something? More than friends? Maybe you don’t remember everything. Some of it’s a blur, even to me. Like some fever dream.”

“No… I do remember some of it. I remember the spare bedroom. I remember how fucking comfortable that bed was. You were there… you were… helping me… and we... I know at some point we were lying down together but I don’t remember what I was thinking or everything I said… it’s just—it’s a lot… too much, almost.”

A groan reverberated from within your deepest cavity and he could only watch through the warm kitchen light as you leaned forward into your hands, your body slumped against the countertop and radiating with agony. Wonwoo didn’t know what to make of the spectacle, though he chose to let you swim in whatever sentiment was swallowing you whole, your head beginning to shake back and forth.

“Wonwoo… listen… I get that—I get what you’re saying, okay? I get that you have this fucking problem with vulnerability, and trust, and the—the, um—the self-sabotaging. I know. I have that, too. And I can understand that it was possible to misinterpret us…”

That word was like a decommissioning punch to his gut—misinterpret—as though it was merely wishful, ditzy thinking and it was him and him alone living inside the delusion despite the fact you were snuggling up against him. However, Wonwoo bit his tongue and simply listened. He didn’t need his bruised heart getting in the way.

“But that night was just—it was irresponsible, okay? On both our parts. I have a boyfriend who I very much l-like, and… and we’re just—you and I, I mean—we’re good at being friends. And you said it yourself that you’ve had time to think and get past it, so…”

“… Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Wonwoo didn’t need his love to be reciprocated nor did he want to know if you actually harboured any feelings toward him back then. All he desired was for you to get what you had plainly wanted—the why. Perhaps it was unsatisfactory, lacklustre, or maybe it was beyond ridiculous and too inconceivable for words.

He was grateful that he’d even made it this far.

With a heavy, laboured sigh, you managed to push yourself from the marbled counter. A hand then propped onto your hip.

Your nails clicked once against the island.

“So… that’s it, huh?” There was a nasally tone to your voice.

Biting his lip, Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, nodding. “Mmhm.”

Your head tilted straight back, like you were attempting to stop a runny trail of tears from escaping down your cheeks. You suckled in a breath, pressed your lips together firmly.

And then, abruptly, you laughed, pinching at your nose while your eyes squeezed shut. It was an exhausted, humourless laugh.

“Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He didn’t exactly know what it was you were cursing, whether it be the realization of what the fight actually meant, or a reaction to his timid, but expired, confession. It could be that the information was too daunting and you were left with no instinct of how to manage it. Wonwoo chewed down on his tongue, keeping silent.

When your eyes opened again, they fell toward the fridge.

“Um… wasn’t it your birthday? Back in July?” You asked with a wet sniffle, brushing a wrist underneath your nose.

“Yeah… July seventeenth.”

Not bothering to speak, you walked over to the fridge and pulled the door open, pale light emanating from inside as you rifled around, moving containers and cartons and fresh produce. It was then that you revealed a cardboard box. Returning to the counter, you set the box in the very centre, and with trembling hands, you began unsticking the corners in order to reveal the surprise inside—a decent sized cupcake, frosted high with thick, white icing.

You sniffed again, turning to grab something from a utensil drawer, and then another item or two out the cupboard.

“It’s from Terra Cotta—it’s just a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese icing—which I ordered as a dessert when I ate out with Princess the other night. But I was too full to eat it after stuffing my face with pasta, unfortunately. So, I got it packaged up. Stuck it in the fridge. Forgot about its existence until now.”

A butter knife fell onto the island, followed by a lighter and a single pink candle. You sighed, eyes turning waterier by the minute, and Wonwoo felt a twinge in his chest that ached like hell.

“Do you like red velvet cake?”

Wonwoo huffed, shrugging. “Um, I’m not sure. Never had it.”

You picked up the candle. “Want to?”

He smiled. “Sure.”

Rather than keeping the cupcake inside the box, you moved the dessert delicately onto a clean porcelain plate and proceeded to shut the lights off. The orange sunset that painted the streets had bled out all its lurid colour. Wonwoo was just beginning to realize how dark it was in the apartment. You propped the pink candle into the expertly piped cream cheese frosting and ignited the tiny wick. A shivering halo of fire reflected in the marble countertop as the flame wriggled and the wax burnt.

Honestly, he didn’t know what the moment signified—if it was a mere gesture of forgiveness, or just a simple means to release all the tension—Wonwoo had not a clue. He thought he should be looking at the cupcake but Wonwoo was looking at you and the lambent glow flickering across your very upset, still face.

Sniffling again, you picked up the butter knife.

“Okay… hurry up and make a wish, please.”

“Really?” Wonwoo chuckled. “You want me to make a wish?”

“Uh… yes. That’s what people do when it’s their birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday.”

“Well—fuck—the spirit of your birthday, then.”

“You're asking a lot of me, you know. All this pressure.”

“Oh my god—it's just one ditsy little wish. I'm not asking you to write out your will, or solve world hunger. It's one stupid, tiny wish. For the sake of the moment. Hurry up before the wax drips on the icing.”

“I think you can just peel the wax off once it hardens—”

“Fuck! I don’t care, Wonwoo! God! Just—” he watched with a satisfactory smirk as you leaned forward and impatiently blew out the candle for him, “—there! Now, you don’t even get the opportunity to make a wish. Hope it was worth it.”

“So, you made a wish in my place, right?”

“Shut up. I’m cutting you the smaller half.”

“You didn't answer my question, though.”

“You didn't answer my question, though.”

“Hey, I don’t sound like that.”

“No, I didn't make a wish in your place—here.”

“Thank you.”

“… How does it taste?”

“Uh, it’s good. A little firm. The icing is really rich, but I suppose that’s typical of cream cheese stuff. But overall, I like it.”

“I really love red velvet. Especially in cupcake form.”

“Hm. Didn’t know that.”

“I wonder if I could get a dozen ordered for my birthday...”

“We’re celebrating my birthday and you’re already thinking of your own? Can you at least wait until I’m out the fucking door?”

“You said it doesn’t matter!”

“Now, that’s not what I said.”

“Don't act like such a smart ass.”

Wonwoo knew he missed your quippy retorts, but he hadn’t realized he’d missed it this much. It was filling a pitted crater within his chest that had remained empty and stone cold ever since the argument.

As you turned the kitchen light back on, Wonwoo stuffed the rest of the frosted cupcake into his mouth and dusted his hands clean.

He didn’t know what was supposed to happen now.

Stubbornly, Wonwoo didn’t want to leave your apartment. It had been too long since he’d last seen your beautiful face, and half his summer was already wasted to lamenting the relationship he’d ungraciously snipped in half like a fresh garden rose. If you wanted him to leave, then he would oblige, because Wonwoo could never go back on his word to abide by the choices that might make you the happiest. That was what he cared about most, anyway.

From the opposite side of the island, you began to cross your arms again, fingers digging tight into your ribs. Wonwoo could see that the hues of grief and melancholy hadn’t really abandoned your face since his arrival, and the tears that had earlier welled up in your eyes were steadily returning, glinting along your bottom lashes as though they were dew droplets. Feeling his throat turn dry and sensing the air become dampened with your sadness, Wonwoo knew what you were going to ask—he braced himself quick.

“So… um…” you began pulling at the short sleeve of your silk-buttoned top, rolling the fabric between uneasy fingers, “it’s getting a little bit late and I just t-think you should go now, Wonwoo…”

He nodded, pushing at his glasses. “Yeah… of course.”

There was such an evident somberness about the way his feet dragged toward the door. You had walked him over, and now that the space between you was significantly less, Wonwoo had never battled so hard with his self-control to keep himself from touching you—even if it was just a slight, chaste brush of his fingers against yours—the simplicity and feel of your strawberry-scented skin would appease his constant aching. He glanced at you, saw that your arms were still crossed and your eyes trained to muse over the floorboards.

Wonwoo scraped against the cuticle of his thumb.

Does he just… leave?

It felt too abrupt.

He smiled at you, keeping it soft and mindful.

“Thank you for listening to me… I mean it… you didn’t have to but you did anyway and… uh, I don’t know. Just—thank you.”

“Mmhm…”

You were squeezing at your ribs even tighter now, pressing in your fingers so unnaturally deep. In fact, Wonwoo was beginning to feel worried, especially when he noticed the quivering in your frame and the hard bite you were sinking into your lower lip—how there were tears streaking one by one down the slope of your cheeks.

Wonwoo’s hand had been lingering on the doorknob, though it slipped off absentmindedly. He wanted to reach for your shoulder and give it a comfortable, warm massage, but he was still too fearful.

“Her… are you alright?”

After a cautious step closer, Wonwoo paused, attempting to peer at your face despite its pointed direction toward the floor. The question was worthless, he realized. You were crying and choking up.

“Do you… should I go?”

God—what an even more stupid question to ask—the thing he wanted to do least was leave when you were this hurt. But Wonwoo needed to know if it was his presence that was disturbing you.

You shook your head, sniffled up all the wet, runny congestion in your nose. He watched the teeth free from your lip as you gasped.

“I-I don’t know… I’m really, really sad, Wonwoo.”

He thought he might panic in the midst of your crumbling, however, there was too much guilt and heartache inside him.

“I know…” he murmured.

Somehow, it felt so criminal to just stand there and watch you weep, hearing every desperate attempt for a breath as you could only clutch onto yourself harder and let the tears helplessly fall.

Wonwoo swallowed, feeling his throat burn.

“Can I comfort you for a bit?”

You hiccupped, and your face pinched up in complete misery, the response struggling to escape through the large sob you cried out.

“Please.”

Immediately, his hands braced against the edges of your very warm, wet face. The heat was radiating like a summer blacktop, and the tears were quick to pool against his fingers as he did his darndest to softly clean and wipe them from your skin—though, Wonwoo came to accept that it might be futile—and he opted to cup your cheeks for just a brief moment, staring into your damp lashes and puffy eyes.

“Still such a gorgeous girl, even when you’re crying.”

You huffed at him, grasping onto his hoodie and tugging it.

“I need you closer, please.”

Waddling into his arms, your face smushed right against his shoulder. In the dim august dusk that meekly glowed through the windows of your downtown, sumptuous apartment, Wonwoo cradled you, coaxing a hand nice and gentle along your trembling head while his arm kept you secured firm into his body. As wonderful as it felt to hold you in the way he always dreamt of, Wonwoo knew that those tears wrinkling his clothes were mostly driven by him.

Your arms dug into his chest. It seemed like you wanted to burrow impossibly closer, into his ribs if you could, but the desire frustratingly couldn’t be fulfilled. To compensate, Wonwoo attempted to squeeze you even more, though he was somewhat afraid of cracking you in half. Maybe that’s what you were craving.

But he liked you very much alive.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair, still damp from the shower and rife with the scent of fragrant blossoms, “I know you don’t want me to apologize, but I have to. Everything I said to you… it was just stupid, pent-up rage from my own shortcomings… so much was building inside me and I made such a dumb fucking mistake—taking our situation and using it as a target—it was all bullshit..." inhaling a breath, Wonwoo sighed. "I shouldn’t have let you walk out that door… but I don’t think you would have wanted to listen, anyway... you probably would have just told me again to go fuck myself… you know, that was actually the first time I’ve ever been told that?”

Your cheek nuzzled against his shoulder. The breath you proceeded to cough out made it sound like you were terribly ill.

“T-That’s hard to believe…”

Wonwoo smiled, smoothing a hand down your back. “You think so?”

Threading your fingers deeper into his hoodie, you nodded.

Stopping to contemplate, Wonwoo ended up agreeing, “hm… yeah... you’re right. There were probably a lot of times in my life where I deserved to hear that. But you’re the first, anyway.”

“Y-You… you deserve to hear it again… I mean, what were you thinking, Wonwoo?” Raising your head from his shoulder and sucking in a much-needed breath, you rubbed at the glisten iridescent to your face. “I didn’t know… I was just trying to t-tal-talk to you…”

Wonwoo unstuck some small, matted hairs from your forehead, guiding them away with the daintiest movements.

“I know you were...” he answered, keeping his voice quiet.

“And then, in the car… I-I just sat there and cried for so long that the sky got dark. I didn’t know what to do—like, I thought I might call Mingyu but he was at work a-and I had no idea what I would even say to him... and then, I called Princess. And she said I could come over and I legit couldn’t get one fucking word out to her.”

Meanwhile focusing on your choked, heavy sentiments, Wonwoo continued to clean the tears from your face. A warm hand had grabbed onto his wrist, not stopping him—just gently holding—as though you needed the contact to ground yourself, even a little bit.

“The shitty part was… even when I was at my angriest… I still couldn’t get myself to hate you. But I wanted it so bad, Wonwoo. I stayed up almost every night, trying to convince myself that you were the worst person I ever met, a-and that I would be better off without you—that you were a poison to me and everything about you is just a ruse to hurt people. No matter what I told myself, nothing would ever work… because I would—I-I don’t fucking know—I would think about how fucking good you make me feel inside. H-How happy I am when I’m with you. You listen to me, a-and you care about my thoughts and my interests and you’re just—you—you fucking live inside me somehow and I want you out so bad but there’s nothing I can do.”

Wonwoo had removed his hands from your face.

They slid down to your hips. He squeezed them tight, digging his thumbs into your flesh and bone over the silken shorts.

“You live inside me, too.”

Rubbing off your nose, you shook your head angrily.

“It can’t be like that.”

His throat twisted up.

“Why?”

“B-Because it—it can’t. You know I have Mingyu…”

“I only think about you. It’s always you. I don’t want it to change.” Wonwoo pleaded, hanging onto every word—trying to search for your eyes despite the adamant refusal to meet his gaze. 

“But I just—I can’t do it.”

“Why?”

“Because!” You pushed at his broad chest, forcing him away as the anguished, grief-stricken shout reverberated between the high ceilings. Gripping at your head, you started to cry again. “I-I’m still so fucking angry at you, Wonwoo. I hate holding onto it and I hate that it’s been over a month and I’m still processing everything, but I can’t just move on from those feelings! I have to see it through. ”

The air was ice cold against him.

He just wanted your perfect body back in his arms.

“O-Okay… okay. I get it.”

“You do? Because I can’t keep reliving this. I just can’t.”

Wonwoo sighed, curling his fingers in and out.

“No, I—I hear you. I promise.”

You still needed time. You weren’t ready to forgive him. That was okay, and he wasn’t the least bit vexated by it. If he had to wait an entire year, then he would wait. Nothing would shake him from you.

Slapping a palm against your cheek, you shoved away the further tears which were seeming to become an annoyance. Wonwoo wanted desperately to be the one to wipe your pretty face and kiss away the salty taste of your sadness, but he knew not to push his luck.

Beyond the windowpanes, the sky was nearly pitch black, pinpricked by all the distant lights from the city buildings.

“I’ll go now, okay?” Wonwoo murmured.

Folding your arms, you sniffled a little, nodding.

“Okay...”

He wanted to say goodnight to you, but then he thought of that rule you had proclaimed during your late-night phone conversation many moons ago—you had to say it first as courtesy.

Except, you were silent.

Nonetheless, Wonwoo had liked to think it was sitting right on the tip of your tongue, just as it was sitting on his.

—SEPTEMBER 8TH.

When he thought back on his summer, Wonwoo couldn’t believe the quickness with which it had flown by, especially considering how nauseously slow some parts moved while he existed, trapped, inside them. Still, it was probably Wonwoo’s most eventful summer since his move from Korea, in more ways than one. Now, it was back to university for his final year as a maths student, and Wonwoo actually couldn’t be happier for the introduction of routine and the opportunity to test all the inner workings he’d accomplished.

Just last week, Vernon had thrown together a small party in the backyard of his friend’s rental home. He was housesitting, and though Wonwoo wasn’t sure why the friend in question would pick a promiscuous drug dealer for hospitality upkeep, the party was apparently approved and Wonwoo had made the effort to attend.

It gave him the chance to reunite with Seungcheol and Seokmin who he’d unintentionally given the cold shoulder. He was just thankful they were relaxed about everything. The night was spent swapping stories from their summer by the makeshift firepit, drinking cold beers, and watching the fireflies twinkle in the dry backyard brush. Vernon had spent all his time sweet-talking some new girl he’d invited from the club, and when they disappeared inside for about half an hour, Wonwoo prayed his bladder could hold out.

Wonwoo had also invited Sierra.

He figured she was just too warm and amicable and he knew she would get along seamlessly with everyone there.

Since they last spoke downstairs in the pottery shop during late July, Sierra had gotten herself a girlfriend—a patron of the Honeymoon who worked up the courage to ask Sierra out after admiring her bartending skills, as he’d heard it—and Wonwoo was more than happy to extend the invite. Seungcheol had predictably brought along Princess, though Wonwoo hadn’t been too worried. They seemed to be on good terms despite the chip in the relationship.

If you had been in town at the time, Wonwoo would have invited you, too. But you weren’t, instead accompanying your mother on a three-day venture outside the city for some publisher’s trip.

But he kept you in mind the entire night. He saw you in the wide, bright moon sitting squarely above the crackling fire, and he felt you in the colder breezes that whispered the beginnings of a soft, fresh autumn. You were everywhere inside him, just like his blood.

Wonwoo had liked to think he’d done it right. All those conversations he shared with you over the phone since the reunion at your apartment seemed promising—even when they flared and ached like a broken bone—Wonwoo had just wanted to hear your voice and know your heart. Though, the conclusion had dipped him in a strange, confusing predicament he still struggled to reason.

“I think we work best as friends… we’ll always be friends.”

The moment was followed by the most intense silence, and then Wonwoo had shifted the phone against his ear, spreading on an audible smile that couldn’t have looked any faker in person.

“Yeah… I see that, too.”

But he didn’t.

He was still in love with you.

And now Wonwoo didn’t know what to do.

You had come to an agreement that he should no longer help you with the book as it had been a point of contention since the start. Plus, you were now confident enough in your skills to finish it.

Surprisingly, Wonwoo was okay with that.

Nonetheless, he did offer his help if you ever needed it.

In fact, as Wonwoo sat in the small auditorium for his newest elective—the continuation to last year’s creative writing—he was scrolling through an old document you had sent him months ago, containing a litany of the same messily written paragraph, just rehashed as you attempted to find the best wording for it. Wonwoo couldn’t help but smile against the palm squishing at his chin.

Your mind always did seem to work in twelve different ways.

Since he’d shown up early to the lecture, Wonwoo was able to pick a good seat in the middle. He recognized a few faces from last year as more students began to trickle in. Wonwoo kept his bookbag on the chair to his right because he liked the extra space, though he began fearing he might have to move it when the lecture hall filled to a degree past his expectations. Since when did all these people take the class last year? Was it because of the new professor? He spun a pen between his fingers, observing everyone rather judgementally.

“Hey—are you saving a seat for your non-existent friend, or are you leaving your bag here to make sure no one else would sit beside you? Not that anyone would want to with the way you’re begrudgingly staring down every single person who walks in here.”

Wonwoo grinned, the pen stilling into his hand.

He knew your attitude like the ducks on his aunt’s shower curtain.

“If it’s such a big deal to you, you can move it.”

“Oh, can I? Do I get the pleasure of moving your bookbag, Wonwoo? Are you really that kind as to save such a life-changing, personal, and intimate experience, just for me?”

Smirking up at you, Wonwoo dropped his bag onto the floor.

He was promptly greeted by a very shiny smile.

“That’s what I thought,” you said matter-of-factly, setting your iconic cream purse onto your lap after sliding into the chair.

“So,” Wonwoo huffed, leaning back and casting you a curious glance, “you didn’t tell me you were going to take creative writing.”

Pulling out some chapstick, you laughed. “Uh—you didn’t tell me, either,” the comment was wry and muttered through the obstacle of moisturizing your lips.

Scratching his temple, Wonwoo chuckled, “fair.”

“Gosh, there’s so many people in here. Way more than I was expecting. I mean, who even are these goddamn people? I hardly recognize any of them—oh my gosh, do you think it’s because of the new professor? I looked her up, you know. She’s published three books—they’ve all got crazy good accolades—and one of them was even made into a movie! That has to be why. Should I try to get face time with her after class? No—actually, I won’t. Then I look totally desperate. I’ll play it cool. I’ll wait until, like, three classes from now.”

“Well, you’re never short of making an impression.”

“Meaning what?”

“Fuck,” Wonwoo laughed, “what the fuck do you think it means? It’s not like I’m talking in morse code. You make an impression.”

You smacked a hand down on his knee. “Well, how do I know if you mean good or bad! And don't curse at me like that.”

“Okay, okay. You're right. I'm sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” he replied, softening his voice, “I am very extremely sorry.”

That little smile you gave him was enchanting.

Wonwoo cleared his throat. “And I meant good, obviously.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If you say anything to her, she’ll love you.”

“That’s a bit extreme.”

“She’ll keep you reasonably in her thoughts?”

“Hm. Yes. I like that better,” you agreed.

While you busied yourself with removing the laptop from your purse and taking an extra minute to inspect your face with a small, compact mirror, Wonwoo glanced around the room again. A few people standing by the professor’s podium at the front were looking at you, their mouths moving in conversation, though Wonwoo could hear none of it from the general chatter. He supposed you were used to getting those dissecting, curious, maybe even sometimes hurtful stares. There was always a light shining on you, wanted or not.

As Wonwoo pulled open the class syllabus on his laptop, he felt a tap against his shoulder. Slightly turning his head, he spotted someone shuffling by in the cramped row behind him, waving.

“Hey, Wonwoo,” the stranger said quickly in passing.

Squinting at him through his glasses, Wonwoo nodded. “Uh, hey.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Who was that?”

He shrugged. “No idea. Someone from last year, I guess.”

“I see. Mr. Popular. Taking names and breaking hearts.”

Wonwoo laughed, shaking his head. “The opposite, actually.”

You giggled so lightly at his response, and for a very slow moment, Wonwoo saw and felt the heat of your eyes stilling in focus upon his face. He squirmed somewhat in his seat, fingers picking at the rough, dark blue material upholstered over the chair’s arm. But then you resumed staring back at yourself in the compact mirror while applying another layer of lip balm, and Wonwoo had to subtly breathe out all the butterflies that fluttered up from his stomach.

With a satisfying snap, you’d shut the mirror, stuffing it back into the purse that was sitting atop his bag on the floor. He wanted to ask you how the book was coming along, how much progress you had made since he last proofread anything, if you were still engaging in those messily long sentences or had you since learned to clean them up.

But it was hard for Wonwoo to ask.

He studied the nervous hands in his lap.

“So… are you free after class?”

You tilted your head in thought. “Uh, I think so? This is my only class today, actually. No more SSA. I’m beyond happy. No one else seemed to take it well but me. I don’t care, though.”

“No, you made the right choice.”

“So, why do you ask?” Angling your body toward him, you smiled, and Wonwoo felt this pool of warmth expand in his chest.

“Do you want to stop at the café on Sunnyside?”

“Maybe. Is it good? I’ve never actually ate there.”

“I think it’s good,” he said, bouncing his knee. “I used to sit in there all the time. I don’t as much anymore, but it’s a cute place to visit. About a ten-minute walk from here. Plus, it’s nice outside.”

You nodded. “I’ll think it over.”

Knowing that class was starting soon, Wonwoo moved the phone sitting on the edge of his tabletop into his back pocket.

“Actually, can I ask you something?”

He stiffened in his seat, hardly managing a nod. That always seemed to be a weighted question, especially in your hands, and the fact that you were biting the skin of your bottom lip only stirred forth more worry. Wonwoo folded his arms and nodded, feeling his heart beat.

“Well, it’s just—there’s no exact date yet, okay? But sometime in very late September my family is having another dinner party.”

Wonwoo’s fingers dug into his arms.  “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you trailed off, continuing to bite your lip, “and, I basically—I-I’ve kind of been blabbing to my mom and stuff. You’ve definitely come up in some conversations. She made a comment that I could invite you and even though I disagree with her on, like, millions of things, I thought it might be a good idea…” your eyes flashed at him doubtfully. “So, like, I’m not gonna force you or anything. I’ve ranted to you about these dinner parties before so I’m sure you know how awful they can be. But… I don’t know… I mean, you don’t even have to stay the entire time. You could just pop by, o-or, or something like that. I just… I think seeing you before will help calm me down.”

Out of everything you could have asked, Wonwoo was least expecting the dinner party question. It seemed to have a very routine structure and Wonwoo couldn’t help but think that his presence there might throw everything off-kilter and the last—the very fucking last—thing he wanted was for your parents to absolutely loathe him. You always complained about them. Even with Mingyu and Seokmin there to accompany you, it seemed never to be enough. However, Wonwoo would hate to leave you hanging so dryly out in the open.

Even if he dreaded it, you mattered more to him than any awkward or nervous sentiments he harboured about the situation.

“Uh… okay. Yeah. I can go.”

You straightened up like a hair standing on end. “Really?!”

He nodded, pushing up his glasses. “Yeah.”

“Oh my gosh! You’re the best!”

Leaning over the chair rest, you bracketed your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, squeezing him into a quick hug that left his heart racing. Your sweet smell lingered in his nose as you slipped away.

“That’s such a relief… and—yes—for as much as I complain about it, I promise I’ll do my absolute best to keep everything on the rails. I’ll get you out of anything awkward or uncomfortable. And if you feel like it’s too much, I’ll be right there. I promise.”

Wonwoo smiled bashfully, shaking his head.

“Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. I can manage a few shit conversations and uncomfortable silences. I’ve got my own problematic parents. I appreciate the thought, though. Means a lot.”

It would be another matter to anxiously dwell over until it actually happened, but Wonwoo was okay with it knowing how receptive you had become to his mood. More than anything, he didn’t know how to deal with Mingyu. The party had been decent. There were multiple people to bounce off and uplift the weight, substances to mellow the tension and distract the mind. But this felt very different. This would be more intimate. Less room for error in the form of lasting, arduous glances and short but gentle touches.

All he hoped for is that it might end better than the party.

—SEPTEMBER 29TH.

“So, I’ll come pick you up, okay? Just gotta text me.”

“… Yeah, that works. Okay.”

“Take a breath, Glasses. If anyone’s got this, it’s you, alright? No negative Nina shit. You’re lookin’ gorgeous, even more than me.”

“It’s Nancy.”

“What?”

“It’s—never mind.”

“Who’s Nancy?”

“I said never mind.”

“Okay, okay. Jeez… make sure you drop the attitude when you get in there. It’s not very cute of you, yeah?”

Wonwoo felt Vernon’s hand grip onto his shoulder, bestowing him a confident shake that somehow only served to reveal how jellied and weak he’d become. But Wonwoo also knew he couldn’t sit inside the mint-scented interior of his friend’s vanilla Camry the entire night, waiting for some lightning bolt to strike him with the energy he blatantly needed. Consequently, his attitude had gotten a bit snappy.

Vernon was right, though. Wonwoo had to find it within himself to relax, take a breath, and realize the time would fly once he was past the initial haze. Besides, you were there. That was all he really cared about. It made the most impossible things possible.

Looking down at the sleek, unwrinkled material of his black suit jacket, Wonwoo gave it a final and deciding tug. He then reached for the gift bag sitting by his feet. Inhaling, his lungs filled deep with air and Wonwoo was clicking his fist against Vernon’s.

“You’ve got this, playboy.”

“See you on the other side, I guess.”

Exiting the vehicle, Wonwoo spared one last hopeful glance at his face-studded friend before slamming the door shut, now caught outside underneath the moon’s shimmer. Late nights in September always seemed to be somewhat dewy and cold, with golden, ruby, and amber leaves slicked against the streets like flowers pressed into paper. Wonwoo shivered, smelling the earthiness in the atmosphere.

After tightening his fingers around the straps of the gift bag, he began making his way up the smoothly paved driveway, toward the welcoming and aglow ambiance that beamed from your family house.

He grabbed the rung at the door, slamming it a few times.

The anxious breath slowly flowed from his mouth as Wonwoo’s mind raced with who would be the one to answer. Feeling his circled glasses slip, Wonwoo pushed them back up using his finger. At the same time, the front door swung open, and in the clarity, relief washed over him like the caress of that autumn wind.

“Fuck! You’re here!”

Before Wonwoo could get a word out, your arms were already thrown around his neck. The hug was fleeting. As quickly as your body was pressed flush against his, it was gone a second later.

“Uh, yeah. Just got dropped off.”

“Oh my gosh. Come in, come in,” you chirped like an excited bird, pulling at his elbow, “I’m legit so happy you’re here. Don’t worry about taking off your shoes. I know I’m barefoot at the moment but I’ve been so freaking scatterbrained that I haven’t even picked out a pair of heels yet. You look amazing. I’ve never seen you dressed up!”

His face began to burn at the compliment.

“I don’t attend many things that require fancy clothes.”

“Well, there’s a first for everything.”

Smiling, Wonwoo realized that he hadn’t really marvelled your dress, but there was something awfully familiar about it—the shiny olive-green colour, the elegant, revealing slit at the right thigh, the thin yet simple straps draped along the open, lowcut back—he then remembered it was the final dress you had tried on from that expensive boutique in the mall. Somehow, the material looked even more stunning on you now than it did before.

His face grew warmer, sizzling almost.

“That dress has always looked perfect on you.”

There was so much more he could spew in the moment, some cloying, sweet thoughts and some very impure ones, too. But Wonwoo wasn’t trying to cross boundaries and he had to respect your wishes of staying as friends, even if it tore him up inside beyond words.

Fiddling with your fingers, you gave him a soft smile. “I’m glad you recognized it.”

The hallway suddenly got very quiet. You were both just standing there, staring at each other, biting lips and scratching skin.

“So, um, I guess I can show you arou—”

“Oh, there they are! Honey, they’re out here!”

Wonwoo’s tender gaze had suddenly snapped toward a woman barging out from an illuminated doorway, a wine glass poised in her hand while the largest, most bedazzled necklace he had ever seen weighed down to her chest. Weathered heels beat the floorboards, echoing between the walls as she stalked toward him.

“You must be Wonwoo!” 

Her hand was gripping onto his wrist and Wonwoo could only prompt a weak smile that was indicative of his racing, feeble heart.

“Yeah, correct. Pleased to finally meet you.”

 “Oh, charmer. Pleasure’s all mine, sunshine. Okay, but—let me get a good look at you. Don’t feel like you have to stand by the doorway, all polite-like. Come a bit more into the light, over here.”

“Mom, don’t pull him,” you warned between clenched teeth.

“Ah, it’s alright, it’s alright. Don’t fret so much. Sheesh.”

Standing beneath the warm and yellow glow from the hallway chandelier, there was notable heaviness in Wonwoo’s chest as your mother’s dilated, intensive gaze wracked along his every feature, as though she were the reading the fine print to one of her catalogues.

“You’re certainly gorgeous,” she complimented, “and that voice! So soothing. How do you not have a lovely lady on your arm?”

Wonwoo’s eyes skipped to you in complete and utter panic.

Grabbing onto her shoulder, you gently guided her away.

“Mom, come on. You’re smothering him, alright? Remember the thing with Mingyu? I told you not to do that anymore. He just got here and I want him to actually enjoy himself. Don’t be so… pouncey.”

“Okay. I got it,” the mom said, lifting her hand and wine glass in submission, seeming serious for no less a few seconds. “The princess of the house, FYI. She always gets what she wants.”

You knocked her touch away as she wriggled your chin, very poorly veiling your annoyance through a grumble, “it’s not like that.”

“Didn’t I call in your father? What’s taking so long?”

“I don’t know. He’s probably hiding in his office.”

“Is that where he is? Really? When I asked him to set the table? Jeez. You spend all day cooking a meal, chopping and dicing and braising and frying, and the man just can’t be bothered to put out some knives and forks. This is why I opened the wine early, y’know.”

Your arms folded, and you appeared so much smaller.

“Seokmin set the table already.”

“Oh! What—he—he did? I didn't even notice!”

“Yes, like an hour ago.”

“Oh my gosh! That boy’s an angel. Raised so well, wasn’t he? You know Seokmin, right, Wonwoo? You’re all friends?”

Awkwardly shifting in his place, Wonwoo nodded. He couldn’t help but wonder where Seokmin or Mingyu were. There was dulled music echoing softly from a distant room in the house. Down the hallway corridor, it seemed to open up into a big living space.

Suddenly, your mom began to wiggle her finger at the bag he was holding limp in his hand, and for a moment, Wonwoo had even forgot it existed. She sipped from her gradually disappearing wine again, her words sounding muffled as they fogged up the glass.

“Is that a gift I spot in your hand, dear?”

“Oh, yeah,” he answered.

Flattening a palm over the intricate jewel necklace glittering down her chest, your mother fawned adoringly, and Wonwoo’s stomach immediately dropped knowing it wasn’t her gift at all.

“Gosh! You shouldn’t’ve!”

“Uh, a-actually, it’s not—it was—I got this for your daughter.”

His gut twisted, watching the excitement and gleam drain from your mother’s face, her smile wiped away like an eraser to a penciled drawing. At least you had brightened up, though it wasn’t without caution, and Wonwoo wasn’t entirely sure what to say.

Straightening her spine, a grin then twitched unnaturally to her mouth. She was directly back into the wine for another drink.

“Well, that’s certainly thoughtful.” Wiping off her lips, she unnervingly held Wonwoo’s gaze for a brief moment, her eyes harder than diamonds. She then turned toward you, proceeding to gesture in a swirling motion with her finger at your face. “Sweetheart, if you don’t mind, could you take a few minutes to just fix your makeup?”

Your expression faltered, shoulders sagging.

“My makeup? What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, the lashes are lifting a bit. It’s not too noticeable in this dusky hallway but out in the proper light, everyone will be able to tell. And I wouldn’t use that shade of lipstick. Remember the tip I gave you? When we take photos that colour is not going to show well.”

“I do remember, yes. But I thought it could match with—”

“No but’s. These dinners are important for us, alright? Go fix.”

Wonwoo held his breath. In all his time spent getting to know you—your likes and dislikes, your pet peeves and oddly specific rules about the way things should work—the one cardinal sin was to never interrupt you. Even when he was fighting tooth and nail against you in his apartment, aching with hurt and bitterness, he didn’t cut you off once to get his word over yours. He doubted Mingyu had ever done it, and he was positive Seokmin hadn’t, either. To actually witness it felt somewhat like a crime requiring swift punishment.

Though, for all that Wonwoo was expecting in response to the rage that had just rippled across your face, there was nothing.

Because you’d choked it down like foul cough syrup.

He watched the fist unclench at your side.

“Okay,” you stated in surprising simplicity, “I’ll go fix it,” still with a sprinkle of attitude that your mother opted to ignore as she announced her trip into the kitchen to check the food.

The second she was obscured from view, a noticeable glisten of tears and exhaustion glimmered in your eyes, though you sucked all the emotions back with a deep, deep breath.

“Do you want to come with me, upstairs for a second?” You asked in a tight, shaky voice. “Unless you want to find Seokmin.”

Wonwoo shook his head. “No, I’ll see him later. Of course I’ll come with you,” he answered, smiling at you with all his tenderness.

He proceeded to follow you up a dimly lit staircase draped in a chocolate brown rug. The house looked quite small from the outside, hidden almost, by the inky night, but as Wonwoo accompanied you at the robust, wooden dresser kept against the corridor wall, he realized just how long the house actually was.

Your lower back pressed against the dresser, hands gripping the edges and fingers scraping the underside of the chestnut.

Wonwoo left the gift bag sitting next to an amorphous, black metallic sculpture that he couldn’t even begin to understand, then dusting off his palms and watching you shake your head.

“I mean, you’ve only been here for five minutes, and I’m already breaking out my seams,” you laughed, dabbing at a tear travelling too far down your cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for it to be like this so soon and I’m not gonna force you to stay.”

“Stop saying that,” Wonwoo urged, tucking his hands into his pockets, “I told you I would come. I’m not going to abandon you.”

You paused, biting the swollen skin of your bottom lip.

“… Okay.” Looking down at the ground, you wiped your damp face again before hugging yourself. “She always does this… she always has something to point out. Nothing can ever be perfect for her. I’ve spent, like, all day, preparing myself, because that’s what she wants, and it’s still not enough. I don’t get it. I feel—” you sucked in a needy breath, pinching at your nose, “—I feel like I’m just some stupid doll she’s trying to perfect, but I never came perfect in the first place, so it’s all a big waste, and somehow, it’s my fault… I know I’m unloading and I’m sorry for that, too. This day has just been—I hate it. I hate these dinners. I fucking hate everything about them. I want to bang my head against the wall.”

Wonwoo smiled at you.

He untucked a hand from his pocket and reached for the clenched fist at your hip, spreading apart your fingers into his.

“Don’t worry about that. I’m listening, okay?”

Though your eyes were misty with tears and tiredness, you managed to return a frail little grin that was deeply sincere. Your hand tightened in his for a moment, and then you were stepping into him like he was a fresh blanket straight from the laundry. Fingers bunched up his suit jacket and your face was warm against his neck.

“I think it’ll be a little better tonight,” you whispered. “You’re the only one here who doesn’t make me feel like I’m going insane.”

Wonwoo passed up and down your bare back with his hand, admiring the softness to your pampered skin and the luscious scent of your hair, though he knew you had probably hated every moment trapped in the hot shower, exfoliating and shaving and scrubbing your body clean. He felt you squeeze onto him harder.

“Can I see what your gift is?”

“Oh, yeah…” he muttered, pulling apart from your heat, “it’s kind of a two-in-one thing. It’ll make sense once I explain.”

“That seems exciting,” you answered, returning to your lean against the chestnut dresser, folding your arms and smiling.

“So, um—if you remember the poker game—I owed you a pretty big lump of cash,” Wonwoo said, reaching inside the bag to grab a smooth, matte box, “and then there was the day at the museum, of course. Running home in the rain. You lost a shoe.”

“Oh my gosh, yeah…” you giggled fondly at the memory.

“I was at the mall—and, yes, I know. Why would I be at the mall when I hate the place?  But I was getting my laptop fixed at that tech store on the third floor, and I also needed wires for my—okay. Never mind the rambling. Fuck, I’m turning into you now. Anyway, I walked past that one store you love and get pretty much all your clothes from. They had these heels in the window. The white ones, which you said to me are actually not white, but a very specific shade of ivory that I couldn’t see and still fail to see, to be honest. And they had that little bit of gold in the straps… but the point is—I got them for you.”

You glitched for a second, and it wasn’t until Wonwoo was basically pushing the box into your chest that you seemed to realize.

“Wait… you actually went to Rosette?”

He nodded matter-of-factly. “Yes.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Immediately, you flipped the box open and began flicking away the neatly trimmed cover of glittered tissue paper. “You got me the Gold Crystal Rope-Strapped and Ivory Ankle four-inch from Mirabella? Wonwoo! I-I was just talking when I saw them in the mall! I mean, you didn't have to actually get them!”

“I know,” Wonwoo answered, helping you pick the heels out from their imprints, “you’re always just talking, though.”

“Unnecessary.”

“To you.”

He was thankful you were too enraptured by the shoes to bother retaliating. Under regular circumstances, Wonwoo wouldn’t ever have been able to make such an expensive decision, but he still had some leftovers from winning the other poker matches at the party, in addition to a work bonus, and he knew that he still needed to repay you those favours even if they weren’t being held against him.

“They’re so freaking gorgeous,” you fawned, inspecting each heel like a jeweller would to their collection, “I can’t tell if I want to hit you or jump on you in happiness. I love them so much.”

“Well, I’m glad.”

“Oh my gosh, can you help me put them on? Pretty please?”

“Uh—yeah, ‘course.”

You gripped the edges of the dresser, slightly sitting on the surface as Wonwoo squatted down to your bare feet. He collected the first ivory heel and loosened the anklet buckle, proceeding to help slide the shoe on until it was fit perfectly. As he busied himself with loosening the buckle to the other heel, Wonwoo felt the ghost of your fingertips brush through his hair. In a spilt second, he froze, staring up at you, who was grinning back in utmost beauty.

“Just fixing your hair a little,” you stated innocently.

Wonwoo readjusted his glasses, nodding. “O-Okay.”

The action hadn’t felt that innocent, and as Wonwoo swallowed tight and continued sliding your ankle through the heel, he was overwhelmed with the most blaring, vivid, heart-hammering thoughts of smoothing his hands along each your soft thighs, pinning up the slippery silk to your olive-green dress, tugging aside your thin panties, burying his face and tongue so hot and heavy into your—

“Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes!”

“Fuck,” you groaned, lolling your head back while Wonwoo finished settling the heel onto your foot, “just in case you didn’t connect the dots, that means we need to get downstairs.”

He returned to height, straightening out the sleeves to his suit jacket. For some reason, there was such an intense disappointment burning in his chest, as though his carnal thoughts were not just thoughts but an actual intent to pleasure you—which was completely ludacris given your friendship and the fact your boyfriend was probably downstairs—that had now been ripped away from him by the shrill pitch of your mother’s beckoning voice.

“Should I take the box—”

“It doesn’t matter.”

You grabbed onto his hand, tugging him toward the staircase.

“C’mon. Let’s get this shit over with.”

And Wonwoo followed, though he couldn’t help but note how you carefully dropped his hand upon rounding the corner into the kitchen, where Seokmin and Mingyu were standing about.

“Hey!” Seokmin exclaimed, pointing toward him. “Wonwoo!”

Expectantly, Seokmin looked like he belonged in a suit. That dark cherry red colour was rather fitting and only served to amplify the glow of his indestructible enthusiasm. Wonwoo awkwardly sauntered over to them, playing with the threads in his pockets.

Mingyu’s suit was more charcoal in tone, with his hair expertly gelled and combed. He mirrored a suave movie star as he leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping from his partly-filled wine glass.

“Uh, hey guys.”

You were hovering at the stove alongside your mother, talking in a hushed manner, while she stirred a large and bubbling pot of aromatic sauce, smelling like rosemary and perhaps cooked off vodka or some other alcohol. There was food everywhere—warm bread plates and fresh salad bowls and artistically painted casserole dishes covered by tinfoil. A window had been cracked open to help alleviate the heat swarming the kitchen, which Wonwoo could feel a little too uncomfortably in the air.

Seokmin grabbed at a couple crackers and cubed cheese organized onto a charcuterie board behind him.

“Don’t you clean up well?” He complimented with a big grin.

Wonwoo shook his head. “Not that well.”

“Hey—” Seokmin suddenly grabbed onto Wonwoo’s shoulder and pointed a finger at him, “—you’re here, alright? That’s an honour.”

Mingyu brushed the cracker crumbs off Seokmin’s suit.

“Don’t snack too much. She hates when you can’t eat.”

“Uh—I made this stupid board. I get to eat from it whenever I want. I’ll be fine, anyway. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Mingyu stopped tidying Seokmin’s suit, instead grabbing his wine glass off the countertop, sighing aloud, “that was a stupid idea…”

From the dreariness to his words and the slouch pulling down his shoulders, Mingyu didn’t seem to be all that excited or even half as chipper as Seokmin, though Wonwoo suspected that he knew the dinner parties to be a complete trainwreck. If Mingyu could hardly stomach a night with your parents despite all the stunning food and drink, then Wonwoo had no idea as to how he’d survive.

“So, um…” Seokmin lowered his voice, tipping his head close to Mingyu’s ear, “should we give him the rulebook?”

“Rulebook?” Wonwoo echoed.

“Uh,” Mingyu sipped quickly from his wine, “yeah, guess we can do that. Not in here, though. Let Her talk to her mom.”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy.” Seokmin smiled, flashing a sly wink at Mingyu. “Hey, we’re gonna give Wonwoo a quick tour, alright!” He then called, his hand wrapping around the boy’s bicep, already beginning to tug him toward the hallway. “It won’t take too long; we’ll just show the bottom floor! Be back in a few!”

“Oh, uh, I guess that’s fine,” your mother replied while grabbing onto the pot handles with two tea towels, moving the sauce from the element, “but please do be quick! And, Seokmin—do you mind fetching the hubby from his office after you’re done?”

“I can do that, for sure,” he answered, smiling bright.

“Thank you, dear. I appreciate you so much.”

He was escorted out the muggy kitchen and down the corridor, flanked by Mingyu and Seokmin until they reached the living area where the piano music had been coming from.

Before he could issue even one question, Wonwoo was pressed down onto the red, very large-cushioned couch. Seokmin sat on the marble coffee table while Mingyu fixed himself onto the arm of a sturdy leather chair, crossing an ankle over his knee. Neither boy spoke for a moment and Wonwoo couldn’t help but feel a bit frightened as he listened to the elegant, soft piano tune fill the space.

“So… what’s the rulebook?”

“Well, it’s not an actual rulebook,” Seokmin corrected, “that was just for dramatics, allure, etcetera. But that’s what we call it.”

“We? You and Mingyu, you mean.”

Shifting in his place, Seokmin nodded, and his voice dropped an octave lower, "play the game long enough, you learn the rules.” 

Mingyu’s chuckle dampened into the wine glass. “And there a lot of fuckin’ rules, that’s for damn sure,” he said with a scary smirk.

“But—we’ll just give you the crash course for now, as to lessen the overwhelmingness of what it takes to endure a dinner party.”

“Um, does Her know—”

“There are three principal rules; I’ll give them to you quick, so listen good,” Seokmin interrupted, leaning further into Wonwoo’s space, speaking quietly. “Rule one: do whatever the mom says, even if she doesn’t say it directly, or scarcely alludes to it. Makes everything ten times smoother, and gets her to like you, which is very important. Rule two: there is a guaranteed argument between Her’s mom and Her every fucking time—you stay out of it—never pick sides.

If you do get roped into whatever petty, passive-aggressive shame-fest they rake up, insert a compliment. Example: this steak is so tender and perfectly cooked! FYI—we’re not eating steak, so think of your own thing—and rule three: Her is like a freshly shaken can of carbonated soda and she can explode at any given moment. As her dear friends, and boyfriend, we have to make sure that doesn’t happen or else you’ll want to axe yourself.”

Wonwoo furrowed his brow heavily at Seokmin, noting a few crumbs left on his cherry suit from the cheese and crackers.

“How do we stop that?” He asked genuinely.

Mingyu proceeded to lower the nearly emptied wine glass against his knee, clearing his throat, “you don’t stop it.”

“But I thought—”

“It happens every time, without fail,” Seokmin answered, shaking his head, “but you can prolong it. You know, like cracking open the cap and letting out some air instead of the bottle fizzling into obliteration right away. The explosion’s not as big then. It’s easy. You just keep the conversation pushing. Don’t leave any space for bickering. Mingyu sometimes takes Her downstairs, or outside. To be fair, you don’t really have to worry about the last part.”

“Yeah,” Mingyu huffed, hardly amused, “lucky you, huh?”

“What happens if that fails?” Wonwoo asked.

Seokmin leaned back, tipping his head to the side. “Last year Her’s mom spent six hours braising these honey-garlic barbeque ribs with asparagus and stuffed potatoes. Guess where the food ended up by the end of the night? Because it wasn’t my starving mouth.”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Wonwoo sighed.

Bobbing his head approvingly, Seokmin smiled. “Exactly.”

“If these dinners are always such a mess, why do they keep happening? I mean, it doesn’t seem like anybody enjoys them.”

Fiddling with the thick folded cuff of his dress shirt, Seokmin shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. They used to a be a lot bigger in the past. Way more relatives and family friends. Just get-together's with a lot of food and drink and intoxicatedness. A way to maintain community and repore or something. But it’s shrunk down over the years. I still can’t tell if that makes it better or worse.”

Mingyu rubbed tiresomely down his neck, somewhat wincing as he massaged a sore spot. “It definitely makes it worse.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Seokmin agreed, “it puts more pressure on the rest of us… anyway, I should grab ‘the hubby’ as per request.”

Snickering, Mingyu flashed his pointed canine teeth and raised the wine back to his lips. “Makes your skin crawl, doesn’t it?”

With an uneased laugh, Seokmin smirked. “Every time.”

As the boy disappeared down a dark hallway to the right of the large living area, Wonwoo assumed he and Mingyu might return to the kitchen as it was probably not the best idea—leaving you alone for too long with your nitpicking mother—but when Wonwoo began lifting himself from the plump couch cushions he was sunken into, Mingyu’s hand touched at his shoulder to stop him.

In an instant, trepidation surged throughout his body.

Wonwoo’s face had most certainly gone white, though the lighting in the living room was too warm and orangey to tell.

“I just wanna talk to you about something real quick,” Mingyu said, stretching forward to leave his empty glass on the marbled table.

“Oh—um, okay.”

When he thought about the past few months, Wonwoo realized he hadn’t even spoke to Mingyu since the blowout party back in June. So much had happened since then, good and bad. Wonwoo could only suspect that he was about to hear the worst talking-to in his life, though he attempted to feign the terror for casualness.

Mingyu swooped a hand behind his ear, brushing back his perfectly styled hair, and looked to Wonwoo almost… forgivingly?

“I know you and I haven’t seen each other since the party at Seungcheol’s. I know some shit went down between you and Her and that it really blew up and you guys weren’t talking for a bit. She said, like, it was something to do with the book she’s writing and you were having differences about the direction and it kinda exploded.”

Wonwoo prayed it was imperceptible, the gigantic breath of relief he fought to exhale without too much giveaway, knowing that you hadn’t told Mingyu the truth to the argument. He was happy about your work-around, though he didn’t know if it was… morally right… that you opted not to tell your boyfriend—the person you supposedly trusted most—one of your biggest miseries.

“Oh… yeah,” Wonwoo exhaled, “it got pretty ugly.”

Mingyu nodded. “I honestly don’t even know if she’s still working on it. She doesn’t tell me about it. I don’t get why it’s so fuckin’ important to her but… I digress. Anyway, like Seokmin said, you’re here now, so you two obviously hashed it out. She seems to really appreciate you as a friend. And—hey—it helps takes some of the weight off my shoulders, y’know? Girl’s a fuckin’ handful sometimes.”

Wonwoo swallowed, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation and the alcohol he was beginning to smell from the boy’s clothes. He understood the situation was stressful for Mingyu, that he might be teetering between things absentmindedly, yet he nonetheless questioned what Mingyu’s intentions even were with you.

“Well, uh… I really enjoy spending time with her, too,” he murmured as Mingyu reclaimed his emptied wine glass.

There was a strong grip on his shoulder, shaking it.

“You’re a good person, man. Seriously.”

Using Wonwoo as a support crutch, Mingyu heaved onto his feet, then proceeded to straighten out his charcoal suit jacket.

“M’kay, I’m going back to the kitchen. We’re probably gonna eat soon so don’t spend too long losing your head out here.”

“Yeah, got it.”

He watched Mingyu amble down the long and subtly aglow corridor, carrying his wine glass low at the hip until reaching the threshold to the kitchen. You had suddenly popped out, stumbling into him with a smile and some hushed words that were impossible to comprehend as Wonwoo sat alone, listening to the jazzy piano tunes from the record player. After nipping a quick kiss against your boyfriend’s lips, you entered the living room with a crooked head.

“What’chya doing out here?” You inquired, pressing a hand against the grand, wooden frame adorning the entry way.

Wonwoo grabbed at his knees while pulling himself up.

“Just a quick pep talk. And a fly-by of some rules.”

“Oh,” you chuckled, “Seokmin’s crash course, was it?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes I call him John Green just to piss him off.”

Wonwoo smiled, stepping around the marble coffee table. “I feel like that might serve to stroke Seokmin’s ego above all.”

“No, it starts to irritate him after a while. You should know at this point I can piss off just about anybody. Even Seokmin. It’s a talent. Though I don’t think it’s enough for me anymore. I want to start pushing people to rock bottom or I haven’t done enough.”

There was a teasing sparkle in your eye as Wonwoo approached you. He could smell all that deliciously cooked food from down the corridor and his stomach was certainly responding to it.

“I can get you there,” Wonwoo said. “Don’t stress.”

“Forgot to fix my makeup. Want to come with me?”

He agreed, and you began to guide him across the living room, swathed in all its expensive mahogany fabrics, obtuse looking vases, and jade-green lamp shades that reminded him of late-night study sessions at the campus library. You pulled him past a wide shelf that was organized with much smaller, glazed sculptures that caught his attention as they lowly glimmered in the mellow light.

“Woah,” he gripped at your wrist, stopping your swift walk, “someone in your family loves ceramics, I’m guessing?”

You ricocheted back into his side, then taking a few seconds to adjust some invisible flaws in your hair before responding.

“That’s just some pottery I did when I was younger.”

Wonwoo squinted at you. “Really?”

“Mmhm.”

“You took classes?”

Shrugging, you muttered a simple, “yeah.”

“Is that why you were so interested in that vase back at my apartment?” When you continued to stare at him blankly, Wonwoo cleared his throat and reiterated, “the red one? It was really round at the bottom, but the stem was tall and skinny. You really liked it.”

“Oh—yeah—sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve last been to your apartment. I don’t know if that’s why I liked it. Probably.”

He smiled at you inquisitively. “I’m surprised you never mentioned that to me, considering my landlord is a ceramics teacher. I mean, as you know.”

Your eyes seemed reminiscent and adrift, glancing from sculpture to sculpture—lopsided teapots, poorly shaped toadstools, crooked little spoons—there were a plethora of your small creations laid across the shelf, gathering dust and appearing untended to.

Wonwoo cleared his throat, hands buried in his pockets. “I just didn’t peg you as someone who liked getting their hands dirty. I suppose it’s different when you’re younger, though.”

Pursing your lip, you nodded. “Things are always different when you’re young. My mom used to use the spoons I made to scoop sugar into her coffees. But she doesn’t drink coffee anymore. Just wine.”

“Well, it’s nice she appreciated your effort.”

There was a beat of silence. Your expression twitched.

“I had to beg to take those classes, y’know?”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow at you. “How come?”

Your arms folded, and you shrugged again. “My parents honestly saw it as a distraction. I mean, why let your daughter play with some clay when she can hardly pass her math tests. But there was this super artsy girl in our recreational class who always made the best teacups from the clay, and she would paint them so beautifully… I wanted to be able to do what she did. So I asked my parents again and again and again until they fucking gave up and found a pottery class to enroll me in. Although, I'm pretty sure they supposed I would drop it sooner or later. Like it was just an itch I had to scratch. It was in this little art shop that looked similar to your landlord's.”

He smiled at you. “Was your instructor a polish lady?”

“No, she was not polish,” your head shook as you swept some dust from the black shelf, rubbing your fingers together, “I remember that much, but I don’t remember her name. It was after a flower, though. Something too complicated for my eleven-year-old brain to retain.”

“Probably Chrysanthemum or some shit,” Wonwoo muttered.

You laughed at his comment, “probably.”

“… Well, you must have liked it. You made so much stuff.”

“Oh, I loved it. I mean, looking at some of this stuff now, it’s not that great. But I didn’t really care that much at the time.”

“Considering you were a child, it’s pretty damn good.”

Wonwoo felt your elbow dig shallowly into his ribs. “Don’t try to flatter eleven-year-old me,” you warned him. “If you would have seen the other girl’s creations, mine would turn from pretty damn good to: well, at least she tried something new!”

“No,” Wonwoo chuckled, “that’s dumb.”

“Honestly, there was so much stuff that I made. More than half of it’s not even on this shelf. There wouldn’t be enough space.”

“Shit. What happened to it?”

You pinched at the olive fabric of your dress, massaging the silk between your fingertips for a moment while examining each and every sculpture moulded and grooved by your tiny childhood hands.

“My favourite part was destroying it,” you answered.

Wonwoo narrowed his brow, “I don’t think I could do that to something I spent so much effort and time creating.”

“Yeah, and that’s all good and fine,” you reasoned, adjusting your shoulders, “but I just didn’t see it like that, I guess...”

Intrigued, Wonwoo smiled at you. “How did you see it, then?”

For a moment, you thought, staring off into space.

 “Well, I just don’t understand why people are so afraid of things being ephemeral. When you’re an artist, or a writer, or a musician, I feel like you want to make something that will last forever, transcend eras, touch people for a lifetime, or, I don’t know—you want it to stay preserved, like when they embalm things. But I feel like there’s just as much worth and importance to the things that hardly last at all. I feel like there’s so much freedom and self-assurance in building something up and then crushing it down.

That’s what I loved about it. When the clay would explode from between my fingers and stick into the lines of my palms because I was squeezing it so hard—it just felt good. Like it was supposed to happen. Like I was letting go. It doesn’t have to mean I… failed. It doesn’t have to mean I’m good at it either… I guess I just want to enjoy things without the burden of having to prove I deserve to enjoy them. Why can't I just do it? Why can't it just be between me and myself, you know? Why can't I decide what to take from it?"

Wonwoo nodded at you.

Contrarily, that was the opposite to his own beliefs surrounding his art, and maybe even his life. Wonwoo could never let things go, nor was he sure when that quality had permanently wedged its way into his human nature. For some reason, Wonwoo saw the past memory where his older brother had scampered away into the bushes surrounding the public pool during that game of Lifeguard all those hot summers ago, leaving an adolescent Wonwoo to get dragged from the water and thrown onto the sun-scorched concrete as everyone watched.

He saw the fuzzy, white glow that beamed from his laptop left open in the darkness, sitting still with all those pages he wrote, and yet to be filled with the words that he could never string together.

Unlike you, Wonwoo had never figured out the mechanism to letting things go. Instead, he held everything—between his fingers, across his shoulders, on his tongue, under his skin, deep inside his chest. Hence, for a split second, he was incredibly jealous that it seemed you could live without weight. You were just a breeze.

And just like everyone else, you were still discovering yourself.

“Anyway. That’s my take on it."

"Why'd you stop? This seemed like such a big part of you."

You flicked your eyes around, shrugging. "Things got in the way."

Wonwoo wondered what things, though he didn't ask.

"But we should hurry. Dinner will be ready soon and my mom will flip if we’re not at the table in time. She interprets it as ‘we don’t care’ and that will open a can of worms nobody wants to see.”

You sighed, then grabbing onto Wonwoo’s arm to pull him down another mysterious, long corridor in your maze of a house.

“Oh, Mingyu, that’s brilliant! I’m so glad the interview went well! I had him slip in a good word for you, too. But I’m sure you put the nail in the coffin. Walking straight into a promotion, you know, that’s something so hard to come by. You’ll settle just perfectly.”

“Yeah, thanks. To you as well. That word went a long way.”

“Making the right connections is certainly key.”

“It is. But I’m just lucky, is all. Your daughter is the real key. She’s given me so much—you all have—I just wanna let you know how grateful I am. Seriously. You’re some of the kindest people.”

“Shush! Before I give you a lash from this towel. It’s been sitting under the potato tray so it’s nice and hot… I’m so excited for your future together. A real power-couple! That’s for sure.”

“Hm. Yeah.”

Wonwoo was pressed flush to the wall just outside the kitchen, simultaneously holding his breath while listening to the conversation between your mother and Mingyu as everyone was presumably sat around the dressed table. Your fingers were hurriedly ruffling out some wrinkles in his tie while you repeatedly cursed at both your tardiness, and he simply let you do what you pleased. After a half-second adjustment made to his collar, you wasted not an instant more—Wonwoo was suddenly thrust into the warm kitchen with you impatiently in tow.

As expected, everyone was sat and waiting. Even your father had been at last pulled from his study, and he was positioned at the head of the long dinner table while twiddling a fork around in his fingers.

Your mother had an elbow propped on Mingyu’s chair.

She was the only one standing.

“Quick,” you whispered into Wonwoo’s ear, practically shoving him down into the empty seat beside Seokmin, “sit there.”

Upon the nervous side-eye that his friend shot at Wonwoo, he suspected that he may have just wriggled his way into an unfortunate ticket straight to hell. You held up the flowy, billowing silk of your olive dress while making your way to the seat across from him and beside a very unenthused-looking Mingyu, who was evidently chewing on his inner cheek. Wonwoo caught Mingyu’s stare for no less than a second, and there was nearly enough electricity in the glance to make a crackle.

A few more dishes had been squeezed onto the table since he was last in the kitchen. Despite the fact there was only six people eating, nearly every corner and crevice of the table was occupied. Your mother had cooked enough to feed an entire party, unless she was planning on sending everyone home with tupperwares full of leftovers.

“Looks super delicious,” Seokmin complimented.

Mingyu nodded in agreement. “Smells even better.”

Wonwoo didn’t know if he was also supposed to throw out some off-the-tongue compliment and keep the train chugging. The atmosphere was just so heavy—everything felt like an extreme effort—he could hardly breathe without the sensation of his lungs itching, as though they were adorned in cobwebs. Unconsciously, he’d started picking at his thumb, his appetite disappearing by the second in place of dread.

“You boys are so lovely, thank you,” your mother commented, straightening out the orange tea towel in her hand while continuing to lean into the side of Mingyu’s chair. “This was all a labour of love.”

Seokmin flashed a picturesque smile that Wonwoo had seen many times before. “Well, I’m feeling the love. That’s for sure. Are we ready to dig in all?” Still, there was a bit of anxious haste in his actions. 

“One moment, first,” your mother stated, pausing Seokmin in his reach for a large casserole spoon. Wonwoo clasped his hands together even tighter as she said, “we’re going to wait a few minutes more.”

You had pulled out your chair, but you didn’t sit.

“Mom, I was just fixing my makeup. That’s what you asked me to do. There’s no reason to make everyone keep waiting.” You removed the towel from her hand and laced it through the oven handlebar. “Just take a seat, okay? I’ll start making everyone’s plates if they pass them.”

She smiled at you. “Well, that’s a very sweet gesture. But it doesn’t take long to fix an unstuck lash or change a lipstick. You’ve got yourself a makeup chair. You should know better than anyone, my love.”

Wonwoo hated this—he hated the way your mother’s criticizing was buttered up nice with a practiced, insincere smile and a crooning voice. He hated the way Mingyu was pushing fingers against the knot in his stiff eyebrow like something horrible was about to happen. He hated the way your father was uncomfortably mute, sitting only with a pursed lip and folded arms in complete disinterest, like he’d rather be anywhere else. He hated that Seokmin was continuing to beam his signature-watt smile even though the air was dense enough to crush everyone flat.

You picked up Mingyu’s plate, presumably because it was the closest to you, and started slopping some hot casserole onto it. Every movement was autopilot, thoughtless, as the steam from the breached casserole rolled up into the air and shrouded you.

“I was only trying to make it perfect,” you muttered.

“Make it what?” Your mother questioned, staring you down.

“Perfe—”

“Stop mumbling, my love. I can’t hear you.”

Mingyu’s messy plate was collapsed back onto its placemat with a very loud thud, and you looked to your mother with utmost annoyance.

“I was trying to make it per-fect.”

She quirked her head. “And you needed Wonwoo to do that?”

Just as he ruminated—the universe had a fearsome penchant for whirlpooling him into the centre of everything and anything horrible, like his name was written in the water. Though, Wonwoo couldn’t say he was expecting to survive the dinner party unscathed. He tried to remember the quick spiel of rules Seokmin had relayed to him—was it better to get involved or just shut the fuck up? Wasn’t Mingyu supposed to do something? Wasn’t Seokmin supposed to keep the conversation pushing?

“Mom, please, just—I was showing him around, okay? He’s the guest. He’s never been over before. Wonwoo has nothing to do with us being a few minutes late to dinner. So just leave him be.” You removed the tinfoil from another bowl. Grabbing a wooden spoon, you started slapping creamy mashed potatoes onto Mingyu’s plate. “Trying to make something out of nothing… why can’t we just eat for once?”

“Honey, we could be eating, but you’re choosing to sulk.”

“I’m not sulking! I’m trying to help!”

“No, no, no. Mingyu’s plate looks like an animal that got squashed by a car. If you can’t even properly fix your future husband a nice-looking plate of food without pooling all your anger into it, then there’s an issue, there.” She shook her head. “A very big issue.”

Wonwoo could see your eyes burning.

Mingyu had then sighed, removing the wooden spoon that was clenched up in your hand like a weapon and slipping it back into the mashed potato bowl. The boy tugged a few times at your wrist, keeping his tired voice as soft as possible while imploring you to sit down.

“It’s alright, everything’s fine,” he said, probably to soothe himself more than anything, “all the food goes straight into my mouth, anyway. Same goes for all of us. Sit down, Her, alright? Please?”

“No,” you snapped your wrist free, “I don’t want to sit.”

In a desperate hope to experience some sort of consolidation amongst the tension, Wonwoo angled a glance toward Seokmin. When his friend wouldn’t look back and merely opted to keep biting his blistering lip, Wonwoo quite literally felt a meteor sink into his stomach.

Slicking a hand along his shiny hair, Mingyu sighed even deeper. “Please just sit. You know what’ll happen. Please.”

Again stepping away from Mingyu’s attempted touch, you began to shout, and Wonwoo’s breath froze as your voice echoed around the kitchen in a hauntingly similar manner to the quarrel at his apartment.

“I already said no!”

From the head of the table, your father pushed out his chair. His voice was oddly gruff when he spoke, like he hadn’t said a word all day and his throat was hoarse by consequence.

“Don’t shout,” was all he warned.

Your mother shook her head. “She will raise her voice when she doesn’t get what she wants.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but feel the cut from her disappointed eyes even though she wasn’t even looking at him.

“I’m raising my voice because you’re not listening! You haven’t listened to me all fucking day! Oh my god! It’s eating me alive!”

In an instant, Mingyu was to his feet, almost trying to court you into the corner by the open window with his hands that you battered away. Wonwoo gripped onto his knees. He couldn’t choke out a damn word and Seokmin seemed to have become stiller than stone.

“Calm down,” Mingyu urged, “take some breaths.”

“You still won’t listen!”

“I’ll listen later, I promise.”

“Mingyu, do you even hear yourself?!”

“Just—you’re blowing this out of proportion again.”

“Stop trying to control me!”

“Calm down and—hey!”

With a frustrated groan, you squirmed away from Mingyu and rushed back to the dinner table where your mother continued to stare at you with such conflict in her expression, as though it was mentally taxing her to compute how such a seemingly perfect, established daughter could simultaneously appear so unraveled and incomplete before her. For a second, Wonwoo thought you might take the mashed potatoes or casserole and just completely drench the wall in their remnants.

But you didn’t do anything. Instead, you looked across the organized table—the vibrant food, sparkling drinking glasses, and expensive, unpopped bottles of alcohol—at Wonwoo, who had admittedly felt pretty useless and paralyzed throughout the ordeal. You looked straight into his eyes and he could see that you were almost physically begging him for an out. And, if he could see himself as an outsider, it was probably the same damn look he was giving you.

Wonwoo hadn’t even noticed the silence in the room.

Your father coughed, retrieving his utensils, ready to sweep the argument and very obvious hostility under the rug—put a small little bandage on a gigantic wound that had been festering for years.

“Same dance every time. Come sit, Mingyu. Let’s just eat.”

That would be nice, if Wonwoo had any appetite.

That would be nice if he wasn’t pushing out his chair, getting up from the table, keeping his gaze level and connected with yours, watching you swallow hard, hold back your tears, anxiously flex your fingers in a momentary contemplation and then—unprompted—run. Just run.

Wonwoo fled into the corridor with you right behind him, your hands kneading against his lower back as he threw open the door to the quiet, dimly lit front porch where that damp and black September night was ready to breathe him in and whisk you two away. He heard the very confused shouting from the kitchen, but there wasn’t any time to waste.

Wonwoo flew down the wood steps and splashed through a shallow puddle reflecting the moonlight, running toward the long street drifted in thinly strewn mist. He continued to run, only stopping for a brief moment to turn around and observe you quickly fling off your heels before scooping them up while everyone crowded onto the porch, yelling.

In your bare feet and a smile so pearlescent, you sprinted straight into Wonwoo’s outstretched arms, giggling aloud while he gripped your body firm and spun you in a circle that saw your dress twirl like a ribbon and your legs brush through the alive air.

Mingyu began stalking down the driveway, visibly angry, his face twisted into a snarl that might see Wonwoo getting split in his nose.

“Fuck, fuck!” You cursed, squeezing your fingers into his. He was suddenly being tugged down the empty, dark street, as though there was some invisible curtain for you to magically disappear behind. “Let’s go!”

Wonwoo didn’t mind one bit. Indefinitely, he would let you tug him over a cliff if it meant you two could fall together. The street was long and wet but the air was so fresh. Every breath he took was pure.

He didn’t know where you were going.

But he didn’t need to.

“Be careful. I don’t want you to step on something sharp.”

“I think I already did.”

Wonwoo pulled tight on your warm hand, stopping you.

“Seriously? Let me look.”

You made a slight huffing noise while sitting down on a large boulder, not caring that the surface was sandy and damp, forming a dark imprint against your olive dress. Wonwoo squatted down, looking at the dirty underside to one bare foot, and then the other, realizing there weren’t any cuts. He then used the cuff to his suit jacket, brushing off the small pieces of grit stuck into the skin in case he missed anything.

In all honesty, Wonwoo had no idea where you two were. After running far down the fancy Hillcrest Street until your family house was completely obscured into mist and memory, you led Wonwoo off onto a separate footpath by the treeline. Your fingers were slotted into each other’s. This was the first time Wonwoo had let go of your hand since running away, and the chilled air felt like prickles on his palm.

Removing the phone from his pocket to shine a light, he wasn’t at all surprised to see the missed calls and texts that had collected minute by minute from Seokmin earlier. You didn’t even have your phone. The only thing you carried was the ivory heels that Wonwoo gifted you at the start of the evening, which were still clutched in your hand.

“No blood. No lacerations. Just dirt,” Wonwoo said. “If you did cut yourself, you might not even feel it with all that adrenaline.”

You smiled at him. “Your phone a graveyard of Seokmin texts?”

He smirked, flicking through them all. “Precisely, yeah.”

Leaning backward on the boulder, you at last let go of the heels and stretched your arms out behind you, staring up at the moonlight patterning between the forest trees, their branches more barren as the autumn leaves came loose in the breeze. They fell down one by one, rustling softly whenever they hit the ground. He heard you sigh.

“Everyone there can go fuck themselves.”

Putting his phone away, Wonwoo smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“That line’s a classic, coming from you.”

He attempted to sit beside you on the boulder, ignoring how uneven and rough it felt under his butt. Wherever you were along the footpath, it was perfectly hushed, almost felt hidden. The tree branches above him had framed the moon akin to a picture—except, he felt like he was the one painted, and that it was the moon who was watching him.

“I’m sorry.”

Wonwoo began to look at you rather than the night sky.

“Don’t apologize.”

You stared at him deeply, licking your lips and shaking your head. His eyes were now well adjusted to the scarce light. Just the silver through the trees was enough to read and inspect your pretty face.

“It went off the rails.”

He shrugged, staring back. “It seemed like it needed to.”

“I made you part of it.”

“I made myself part of it.”

“But, I mean—just—if you… if you never…”

Wonwoo raised his eyebrow. “If I never what? Met you?”

Puffing out a long breath, you looked down, picking at something on the boulder with a manicured nail. “… Yeah.”

“No,” Wonwoo was firm to correct, continuing to stare at you intensely even if you couldn’t face him in the turmoil of processing all the emotion and chaos, “you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

You lolled out your tongue, smiling and sheepish. “Blah.”

He laughed, “I mean it.”

Sighing again, you glanced back at Wonwoo, your eyes flickering along his every detail in the dewy night. Your hand reached out to his collar, making another brief, probably unnecessary adjustment to it before sliding the gentle fingers down his chest. Wonwoo’s mouth ran disgustingly dry in that moment, to the point that he was relieved when you removed your hand because you might have felt how fast his heart was beating and thought him to be quite pathetic.

Tightly swallowing, he brushed an itch off his nose and opened his mouth with a question, his gaze catching yours. Although, at the last second, he weened himself from speaking when the doubt found and froze him. A breeze tickled through his hair and Wonwoo shivered.

Your brow furrowed.

“What?” You urged him.

Wonwoo chuckled. “Fuck. Nothing.”

“Not nothing. Please. What is it?”

You were leaning closer into him, enthralling him with those earnest, gleaming eyes. He swore the nighttime wind was pushing your sweet, blossomy scent against him—was pushing you against him—because now your thigh was squished right beside his and your shoulders were warm together. Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat.

“Who are you?” He paused, but didn’t falter. “Actually?”

Your forehead wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

Wonwoo examined every aspect of your face that he had come to know so well over the months—the face he gradually couldn’t stop thinking about, to the point you would appear in his dreams. The face he was once completely disinterested in, because you were not someone that should have any reason to be in his life, just as he had no reason to be in yours. He felt his body move closer into your inviting warmth.

In fact, you two were so close that if he moved even an inch or few forward, then his lips might find themselves pressing to yours and his hand might settle and smooth up along your thigh to your cheek. Then, it would be impossible to leave the footpath without digging into you right then and there, kissing and tasting from you everywhere.

“What’s your name?”

It sounded like an obvious, warranted question that just about anyone would ask given the opportunity. But Wonwoo had never found himself wondering it. The things he wondered about you were much different and more character-driven, yet Wonwoo had come to realize that your name was just as important and precious and intact with your identity as everything else. He almost felt like it was the very last piece of you that he hadn’t shifted into place—his last chapter in a very long, complicated, topsy-turvy, seemingly-never-ending book.

Wonwoo thought you might laugh at him.

Tell him, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” in that very smug tone of voice he’d hear from time to time while smiling hot with your secret.

Instead, however, you just stayed silent.

His hand touched with fragile softness at the edge of your face, a thumb then stroking along the space before your ear as you swallowed.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he whispered, hearing the leaves rustle above him, “it’s fine either—”

“No, one second.”

Wonwoo bit his tongue, opting to watch you lean back while digging fingers into the cleavage of your dress. From somewhere—he could only surmise—you had pulled out a thin tube with a cherry lid.

“Was that the lip stuff you put on?” He snorted.

“Lip liner. With a sticky patch on it right here. Figured I should keep it close. You know, in case a crumb managed to remove a single spec of it. Can't have my mother passing out from shame.”

“Clever thinking.”

“Give me your hand.”

Stretching out his fingers, he let his hand sit in your lap while you pulled the lid off with your teeth, then gripping his wrist and halfway leaning down to push the tip of the lip applicator against his palm. The sensation was cool and smooth. He felt each letter you traced, though he refused to let himself guess until you were done.

Under the moonlight, Wonwoo raised the calligraphed hand to his face, pushing up his glasses as he realized—at last—the complete gist of who you were. And with your name came the understanding of what you were, in fact, doing in his very meaningless life.

Wonwoo kept staring fondly at his hand. But, as he was staring, you suddenly reached forth and smeared your thumb across the neat letters until they were lost. A memory made, and then covered.

Only between you.

When Wonwoo looked to you again, he saw everything about you so clearly that it was almost shining. Every decision you made, every word you said, the way you walked and dressed and flourished so openly before crashing so hard—Wonwoo could snap all those pieces into place.

“Can I ask you something?” You said.

He blinked at you absentmindedly, too caught up in his daze.

“Wonwoo?”

“Sorry—yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Pressing your knees together, the wind fluttered the fabric of your silky olive dress, and he could tell you were getting cold.

“When you were at my apartment, apologizing to me about our fight, that was the first and only time I ever heard you mention your ex-girlfriend.” Clicking your nervous feet, you looked over his shadowy face and the moonlight dancing in his glasses, “was she your first love?”

Crushing his hands tight into each other, Wonwoo bit his lip. “Yeah.”

Keeping your eyeline steady, you nodded. “Was she… like… what did you love about her?”

He almost couldn’t breathe. “Everything.”

You frowned. “Even the bad stuff?”

“Yeah…” he mumbled, “even the bad stuff.”

It was very quiet for a moment, with you simply sitting in reflection and staring into the dark silhouettes of the trees. He was sure you already knew the answer to your initial question, although he understood that hearing him say it was different than infinitely assuming about a past that wasn’t yours. Wonwoo had been in love before, and then heartbroken down into little fragments of himself that he spent months soullessly dusting around. And somehow, he was in love again—a new love that felt so much different but still fit him so right.

“Hm…” you hummed.

Wonwoo placed his hand on your bare back, beginning to sweep his fingers up and down, sensing your skin quiver in response.

“It’s late,” he whispered, nudging his knee into yours and warming your ear with his breath, “I know you don’t want to go home, and that’s alright. I get it. But we should figure something out before my phone battery dies, yeah?” He proceeded to grab your hand and squeeze it. “I don’t wanna leave a pretty girl like you out in the cold and wet.”

When you looked at him, you were pouting, exhaustion shining on your face like the dew in the moonlit leaves. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.” Your fingers gripped his impossibly tighter.

“Do you want to stay the night at my place?”

You snuggled your head into the crook between his jaw and shoulder, wrapping your arms around his elbow to hold him close. “Yes.”

“Well, I’ve got one call,” Wonwoo sighed, fishing out his phone and squinting against its lurid light, “better hope he fucking answers.”

Vernon was confused to say the least, beckoned down a random street at near midnight when he could be in bed with the girl he was happily feeling up just half an hour ago, until a certain phone call ruined it. Wonwoo could tell from the manner in which his friend’s heavily furrowed brow remained creased when he opened the vanilla Camry’s back door, allowing you to slide in first with your heels in hand while Wonwoo followed. Tugging the door shut, Wonwoo could then only smile at poor, disgruntled, face-studded Vernon who was continuing to inquisitively stare him down through the rear-view mirror as though there was something smeared across his cheek or stuck in his hair.

Perhaps it was the patches of dampness and dirt on Wonwoo’s suit and your once very elegant dress, but it didn’t matter anymore.

“So… uh… dinner went well, then?” Vernon asked in a big huff after no one offered to break the silence, slightly turning his head to analyze the backseat using his busted, buzzing ceiling light.

Wonwoo and you were pressed together. Both unreceptive.

“Woah. Stop talking over each other, guys,” he joked dryly.

“Couldn’t have gone better,” Wonwoo decided to say.

“… M’kay…” Vernon replied, still perplexed but probably sensing it was best to save all the questions for later. “Music?”

Wonwoo nodded and turned off the ceiling light. “Sure.”

That was the beginning and end of the conversation.

Vernon pulled out from Hillcrest, keeping his elbow against the half-opened window during the drive, meanwhile you were allowing your heavy eyes to at last flutter shut. Leaning your head against Wonwoo’s broad shoulder, he noticed that your fingers were playing with his—you had gently grabbed his thumb and started rubbing his pigmented scar in absent circles, massaging into all the weathered years spent scratching himself until his anxiety would peddle away. The lip liner was still smudged against his palm in a cherry-tinted blur that he never wanted to wash off.

Smiling, Wonwoo let his cheek sit atop your hair, sensing the delightful breeze from Vernon's window flow into the backseat.

He was glad he went to the dinner party.

“Here are the keys. This copper one here is for the shop. This blue one is my apartment key. Go inside and get warmed up. I’ll join you in a few, alright? Promise… be careful on the steps,” Wonwoo instructed after opening the car door, proceeding to wrap his keychain in your fingers once you had emerged into the wind and sodden air.

With the white heels strung through your arm, you nodded at him sleepily and walked up the three little stairs to the pottery shop.

After you disappeared inside, Wonwoo turned around and opened the passenger seat door, climbing back into his friend’s Camry kept stalled but running at the curb. At first, there was silence between them. They both gazed down through the illumination of the headlights washing out the empty street. Vernon then slid his hand off the steering wheel, letting it cascade through his messy black hair instead.

“Do I even wanna know what fuckin’ happened?” His friend asked, his head clunking back against the upholstered seat.

Wonwoo blinked down at his lap. He started to smile, feeling it creep along his mouth even though he knew how suspect it looked.

Then, Wonwoo chuckled.

“We ran out.”

He finally looked to Vernon, who was staring back with highly quirked eyebrows and a dropped jaw. After exchanging an incredulous glance with each other, the two boys were laughing and ripping apart the silence. Vernon crossed his arms, sunk further down in his seat.

“Never would I picture you doin’ that…” he said through a lazy grin, “runnin’ out with another dude’s girl is insane, can’t lie.”

Wonwoo rubbed a palm along his cheek, still fucking smiling. “Think he’s gonna beat my ass?”

Vernon stared at him, deadpanned in his expression. “Is that even a question, Glasses? I’d beat your ass. I don’t even have a girl.”

“I don’t care.”

“If he beats your ass?”

“Yeah.”

Suddenly, a hand was pushing against Wonwoo’s shoulder. Vernon was smirking at him hard, teething over his bottom lip.

“Damn. She’s got you by the scruff, huh?”

Wonwoo shrugged, beginning to shake his head. “You should see the way he treats her… there’s some weird ties between him and her family. I think he’s playing the long game… getting what we can while he can and then parading her around as a trophy or something. But she's miserable with him.” Running a thumb along his knuckles, Wonwoo grinned. “He can beat my ass if he wants to.”

Vernon clicked his tongue. “Well, just to float the idea, I’m s—”

“No,” quickly laughing away his friend’s questionable response, Wonwoo merely rubbed under his glasses and refused. “I’m not trying to get locked away for first degree murder. And neither are you.”

“I’m just tryin’ to say I’ve got you is all,” Vernon said with his usual nonchalance, as laid back as an ironing board, “but—you’re right. Save that for when I’m an actual drug lord. He’s not gettin’ anything from me. Not even a Flintstone gummy.”

“Well, I appreciate the favour. Sorry to interrupt.”

“Nah, I could tell it was somethin’ important,” Vernon excused, giving Wonwoo a comfortable smile, “s’not like I can’t ever get brain again. Your situation seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

Looking back at the pottery shop and the single light within keeping everything aglow, Wonwoo wondered if you made it into his apartment okay. He was worried about leaving you on your own for too long, especially when taking into consideration the extremities of the dinner party (that hadn’t really been a dinner or a party when he thought about it). Rolling out his shoulders, he turned to Vernon again.

“She needs to eat something. I’ll order food. You want any?”

Vernon scrunched his face. “What—you’re askin’ me to come inside with you two? I’m not on real good terms with her, y’know that, right? Just ‘cause she’s fuckin’ with you doesn’t mean that for me."

“It won’t be like that.”

“How do y’know? You guys gossip about me?”

Wonwoo smiled, pushing up his glasses. “I just know.”

Vernon paused to think for a moment, his hand returned back to the steering wheel while sharp teeth pulled at the skin along his bottom lip. With just the edge to his face streaked in yellow light from the outside street lamp, it was difficult to interpret his mindset, although Wonwoo knew it was a done deal when Vernon removed the glittering keys from the ignition and the rumbling car at last went silent along the empty midnight street.

Besides, Wonwoo would pay for it all, anyway.

Vernon quietly trailed behind Wonwoo into the apartment, the front door left unlocked and the living area bathed by the warm-coloured light fixture but absent of your presence. His friend placed the car keys onto the coffee table with an uncharacteristic softness, and Wonwoo figured that Vernon was probably still feeling uncertain about spending time with you—which made sense—the last time Vernon had spoken to you (spoken probably wasn’t an accurate word) was the confrontation at the gas station where he feared you might light his hair on fire.

Though, when Wonwoo poked open his ajar bedroom door, he found you standing near his desk, peering across the walled corkboard and all its pinned photos from his life back in South Korea.

He flicked on the light, pulling out the deep blue darkness from the air, and smiled at you.

“Everything alright?”

With your arms folded, you seemed smaller than usual. “Yeah—sorry that I came in here without permission.”

He was quick to shake his head. “No big deal—you don’t need permission.”

You were silent for a few seconds, grinning to yourself, and then gestured to one of the glossy developed photos stuck to the cork.

“That’s Bohyuk?”

Wonwoo nodded, “yeah.”

He realized you hadn’t spent much time in his room over the months that you’d known each other. For the most part, Wonwoo would always be at your apartment, or some unique location necessary to your story-telling when he was still helping with the book. At one point it would have perturbed him to see you gazing along the finer details of his room so curiously. Now, however, he welcomed it.

Stuffing hands into his pockets, Wonwoo let you observe the corkboard, watching you with a very amorous, kind smile that he hadn’t even processed until his cheeks started flaring with a heated ache.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah?”

“… I’m hungry.”

Unable to flatten out his smile, Wonwoo walked over to you and smoothed his hand along the side of your face, then caressing his thumb underneath your twinkling eye and against your cheekbone.

“I know,” he murmured, “I’ll order food.”

“Chinese?”

“If that’s what you want, then I’ll make it happen.”

Delighted to see your expression brighten, Wonwoo at last removed his hand from your skin. He knew he shouldn’t touch you or look so fucking pathetically in-love into your eyes, but he didn’t care.

“Do you think I can shower? I want to take all this makeup off.”

“Yeah, of course. Go for—”

Suddenly, from the living room, there was a loud bang that distinctly sounded like Vernon plowing straight into something heavy.

“What was that?” You asked, covering your mouth.

Wonwoo chuckled, “Vernon. Hey—you alright?!”

“All good!!” His friend shouted back. “Just—how ‘bout don’t keep your fuckin’ weights right beside the couch, yeah? Almost broke my fuckin’ foot!”

“Oops.” Wonwoo shrugged very unapologetically, staring into your amused eyes and giggling together. “He’s gonna eat with us… he did a big favour coming down to get us and everything, you know?”

“That’s okay,” you answered, “I just want to shower.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll give you the room. Wear whatever you want. I’ll just take the keys so I can lock up downstairs.” He was nearly on his way out, but stopped abruptly. “Should we… uh… should I at least text Seokmin and tell him you’re safe? I mean, just in case—”

“Sure,” the response was quick and muttered with little care, “I’m sure they can surmise where I am, but you can do that, too.”

“Yeah, okay… well, I’ll leave you be. Food will probably be here by the time you’re out and dried off. I’ll make sure it doesn’t get cold.”

Finally, Wonwoo clicked his bedroom door shut. Keys in hand, he re-entered the living room to find Vernon plumped down on the couch with a pillow in his lap, all spread out like he owned the damn place, texting away on his phone. Wonwoo laughed as he walked by.

“Writing out your apology letter?”

“Somethin’ like that…” his friend mumbled, clearly more focused on his pixeled screen, “I might not be gettin’ that head after all.”

“Life’s all about sacrifices,” Wonwoo sighed while opening the front door, pausing briefly to mention, “we’re getting Chinese food by the way. She didn’t care that you’re staying. Anything you want?”

Vernon smiled while keeping his eyes trained to the phone. “No way. That’s a relief… n’yeah—I like the chicken balls with the sweet and sour sauce. Pork-fried rice is good, too. I’m not picky.”

“Noted.”

“So—wait—I have to ask, and you can tell me to fuck off if you want, but how did you become a drug dealer? Like, at what point did you even realize that was your… I don’t know… calling?”

Sitting cross-legged on the carpet with a carton of noodles in hand and a napkin splayed upon your bare lap, pointed chopsticks were being angled at Vernon from across the coffee table. He took a sip from his can of bright red soda, placing it back onto the coaster with a thud.

“Uh, fuck,” Vernon coughed, smiling subtly while beginning to pick through his own personal container of pork-fried rice, “well, I can answer it, I guess… do I get to ask a question in return?”

You grabbed the napkin, wiping off the sauce from your mouth.

“I’ll allow it.”

“Fair enough,” his friend answered.

Wonwoo had heard the story only once before during a smoke session on the apartment rooftop, though he doubted Vernon would trudge through all the details. Despite seeming like an open book who couldn't care less, there really were some sweet spots he didn’t like having prodded. Nonetheless, Wonwoo thought it was a good, earnest opening between the two of you, so he opted to stay silent while pulling the meat off his ribs with his teeth.

“Uh, I was a stubborn kid, let’s say that. Tried my hand at school but I could never get the hang of it. Could never keep a job long. My parents caught me usin’ once, weed and ecstasy, and they said if it happened again, I’m out.” Vernon fed himself another forkful of rice, taking a moment to swallow while you listened intently. “I thought I could keep it straight, but no luck. Yeah. They had no tolerance for it. I was out the next day. My mom was the most pissed, but she tries to reach out every now and then. I dunno... I feel done with ‘em, if I'm bein' honest. I’ve got somethin’ that works so I just run with it. The money speaks for itself so I can’t complain.”

As Wonwoo expected, it was the heavily watered-down version of everything that happened between Vernon and his family, however, it was enough to paint the picture. Taking a moment to slurp up some spicy noodles, you soon set the carton down and patted along your gradually swelling lips. The crumpled napkin was placed on the table.

“Yeah, I bet the money speaks for itself. You’ve got a bunch of stupidly rich university students on your roster. They go through just about everything they can get their hands on. It’s fucking insane.”

Vernon propped his elbows onto his knees, gathering more rice onto the plastic white fork while smirking at you knowingly.

“You’ve got that coke sniff, y’know?”

Wonwoo widened his eyes at Vernon, suspecting a wildfire.

But you merely shrugged, quite honest in your response.

“I know. I did it once with Mingyu, some friends, and I thought never again…” with a sigh, you massaged at your shoulder, staring off into a random spot that Wonwoo couldn’t pinpoint. “Mingyu was getting it for me at almost every party we went to. I don’t know. I thought, since he paid for it, since it’s right here, I might as well do it.”

Slipping the fork out from his mouth, Vernon grinned. “Coked-up sex is crazy. Especially when you've got the right cut. It hits.”

“Vernon,” Wonwoo immediately chirped at him while setting down his emptied container of food, his voice sounding particularly stern, like he was scolding a child for making an ignorant comment.

“What?” His friend laughed, raking a tattooed hand through his loose and shiny black hair. “It is. Feels like you’re on another planet.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just think a little before you speak, please.”

Again, Wonwoo was surprised to see your nonchalance.

“It’s okay. I know what you’re saying. I think… like… Mingyu only wanted me to have it for that reason—I’m making it sound like some non-consensual, pressured shit—it’s not,” you muttered, waving around your hand in dismissal, “I just… the thing is I don’t like how I feel afterward. But it was never enough for me to say that I didn’t want it. I liked that it would take me out of my head for a bit. My mind would stop running on overdrive.” Then, you pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “The last time I did anything like that was the party at Seungcheol’s, though.”

Whenever the party was mentioned, Wonwoo would always bite down on his lip and tightly curl his fingers. He had discussed it with you in the past, beyond the summer evening spent at your apartment with a red velvet cupcake in between you and a painful, aching hug he could still feel all the warmth and regret to.

There were long, long phone conversations. And somewhere, stuffed in his mind, was the memory of you and Mingyu behind the door as he listened to every little sound—skin hitting skin, the desperation in your voice, wood smacking the wall.

“Yeah, is what it is,” Vernon replied. He pulled a toothpick out from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. “Do I get my question now?”

“Uh… sure.”

Wonwoo had almost missed you staring at him. There was a concernedness to it, but when he smiled back you seemed to breathe.

“Still think I’m a gigantic fuckin’ tool?”

Immediately, you started laughing. Wonwoo followed suit, on the brink of embarrassingly blowing out the soda he just sipped from in a big spray. He was actually quite relived that Vernon had picked a more light-hearted question rather than something intimate. His friend swirled the toothpick around with his tongue, continuing to smirk in confidence.

“Giggle away. I’m curious, is all.”

Kissing your teeth, you held Vernon’s coppery, honey eyes. “You are a tool, one-hundred percent… but, I think you know that about yourself. And, um, you’re a good friend to Wonwoo. So… I guess my opinions about you have shifted. Appearances are deceiving.”

Pleased with your candour, Vernon grabbed his drink, leaned against the recliner behind him, and nodded his head approvingly.

“That tickles my fancy well enough.”

"Don't you think you'll want to settle down eventually?" You asked.

Vernon scrunched his eyebrow. "What?"

"Like, what if you find a girl. A really nice girl who could change your perspective. Do you think you'd want to settle down?"

With a quick laugh, Vernon shook his head. "Nice girls don't use half their last pay check to buy drugs. It's business at the end of the day."

Seeming skeptical, your eyes narrowed. "Right..."

"Vernon has his mind set on very specific things," Wonwoo smiled.

Straightening out the large shirt that draped around your frame—another garment belonging to Wonwoo that you had pulled from his dresser—you glanced between each boy and smiled.

“So... now I'm curious. How did this unlikely pairing meet?”

As Vernon was busy with navigating his toothpick, Wonwoo decided to tell the story, prompting him to sit up straight and alleviate his spine from being crooked against the hard bottom of the couch.

“I was convinced into attending a little New Year’s Eve party thing by these guys I don’t talk to anymore. Spent about half an hour wandering the halls, doing aimless laps, hating every second of it, debating if I should just take off. Not like anyone would notice. Then I bump into this guy—” Wonwoo nodded at Vernon, “—who was all tattooed and pierced up with this girl all over him. She was on the kitchen counter, one hand gripping his bicep while she was laying hickies to his fucking neck from behind.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Who was that?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Vernon?”

“Uh—I don’t know if I remember, honestly. She used to buy poppers off me like every damn week so I called her Poppy. That’s not her real name, though. She’s long gone. Moved cities months ago.”

“Yeah, well, he told me I looked like a lost ghost. Asked if I wanted a swisher. I agreed for some reason, and we went out back.”

Brushing a hand down your neck, you giggled. “A lost ghost?”

Vernon nodded, folding his arms.

“Yeah. Glasses always used to have that look to him. Dead man walkin’ kinda thing. Just wanderin’ around with no purpose.”

Wonwoo hoarsely chuckled at his friend, “jeez—thanks.”

“You can’t deny it.”

“I know. But to be fair, I was fucking going through something.”

“Mmhm, that’s why I took you under my wing,” Vernon sang, his eyes swimming with their usual gold-tinted mischief, “I could just tell you needed some guidance. Gave him the swisher of eternal friendship.”

“Is that what you call it?” Wonwoo huffed sarcastically.

“I call it many different things.”

You smiled sweetly at Wonwoo while your fingers played with the long cuff on the borrowed t-shirt. “Whatever it was, I guess it turned into something pretty good... and, Vernon, I am sorry for how I acted at the gas station. There was just a lot going through my mind.”

True to his casual, untroubled nature, Vernon swung his head dismissively while letting an arm collapse across his knee, the toothpick now in his hand and being spun between his ringed fingers. “No, you’re good. Don't worry 'bout it. It was just ‘cause you care n' shit. I get that.” Quirking his expression in an endearing manner, he proceeded to flash you a solid grin. “You didn’t singe my hair off so, I’ve got no grudge.”

You laughed, “I wouldn’t have actually done anything to you.”

“Eh, it’s hard to tell, isn’t it?” Vernon answered in a smirk.

Reaching for your drink, you sipped from it and then snuggled the can between your criss-crossed legs. Wonwoo examined that very intriguing smile opening its way across your mouth like a spring blossom, wanting to know the exact moment that sparked it.

A quiet pause passed, and then you were sighing with bliss behind it—that relaxed kind of sigh when everything seemed to click.

“It’s nice hanging out with you guys…” you murmured, staring across the coffee table scattered with ripped-open sauce packets, empty cardboard containers, wood chopsticks, and unfurling napkins. “It just feels lighter… I don’t know… making friends has always been so tough for me. The right friends, I mean. Friends that actually feel like friends.”

Wonwoo pinched his lip in his teeth.

“It can take a while before you hit the right people.”

Vernon shrugged, concealing a burp that had him rubbing down his broad chest. “If we’re all friends, then we’ve gotta be the weirdest fuckin’ collaboration of people I’ve ever seen.”

You snickered into your hands while Wonwoo lounged an elbow onto the couch to help prop up his head, rolling his eyes toward Vernon.

Though, Wonwoo could easily understand what Vernon was getting at. You, a popular and high-fashion campus honorary who at first glance seemed to have very little patience for anyone but yourself, followed by the guttural and unbothered drug dealer without a care in the world, beside an anxiety-ridden hermit just trying to exist and somehow not turn to a puddle in the process. Vernon was right—it was a strange grouping of people suckled together despite their completely different paths and choices. Somewhere, somehow, though, there was a connection.

Like a fated string weaving everything into a knot.

Since Wonwoo had already ordered the Chinese food fairly late, it was quite difficult to find an ice cream place in the area that was open past midnight. Vernon and his sudden craving for cookie dough had offered the idea, and you easily caved, which led Wonwoo on a spiral of searching through his phone. Unfortunately, the only ice cream they could order was vanilla soft-serve cones from a twenty-four-hour fast-food chain which arrived to his apartment dripping. But no one really cared, and Wonwoo threw on the television for some background noise.

The conversations lasted until about two in the morning.

Vernon had not so gracefully taken up the entire couch, his face shoved into the embroidered pillow, an arm left dangling limp over the edge, and a smear of soft-serve dried to his cheek. You and Wonwoo were sitting side by side on the floor, a blanket spread around your shoulders with your knee spilled onto his lap, attempting to finish up the random movie that he couldn’t even remember playing. When the credits began rolling, it took him a moment to process that the drama flick was even over. Your head was tucked against his shoulder, eyes shut but still twitching against the dull, meek light flooding from the screen.

He placed his hand on your bare thigh, fingers stretching eager over the warm and soft skin to carefully grip it and give you a squeeze.

Then, with his lips feathering at your forehead, he mumbled your name to get you awake. Wonwoo did feel somewhat guilty about stirring you, but he’d rather you have a comfortable sleep on his bed than the living room floor. He continued to rub your thigh nice and slow, watching your eyelids flicker open and squint at him through the dark room. There was a shallow grin that you gave him, full of contentment.

“You’re all fuzzy…” you yawned, proceeding to rub at your eye.

“It’s late,” he answered quietly, almost whispering, “I think I should get you to bed. You’ll be much comfier in my room.”

“Is Vernon asleep?”

“Mmhm.”

Turning back to glance at the couch, you yawned again.

“… Oh… so, we’re going to your room?”

“Yeah… c’mon, I’ll help you up.”

Wonwoo didn’t turn on the light in his bedroom since there was already a small separation in the curtains, allowing just the right amount of moonlight through to outline everything around him in bluish-silver.

You sat down on his bed, letting your fingers travel along the sheets to feel all the slight rumples and divots, only to look up at Wonwoo with a tired smile and sincere, blinking, gorgeous eyes that felt akin to a gut punch. As much as he wanted it—needed it—Wonwoo knew that he couldn’t sleep next to you. He couldn’t trust himself. He couldn’t fathom having you so fucking close in the intimate, cocooning darkness and not being able to squeeze his cold hands along every perfect part of you.

But you weren’t making it easy.

In fact, you were making it excruciatingly hard.

“Are you not going to lie down with me?”

Wonwoo felt the twig snap in his chest. You wouldn’t stop staring up at him through those wispy eyelashes and nibbling on your lip.

“I’ve got the recliner in the living room…” he could hardly choke it out. There was so much heat in his body that he could melt.

“Why sleep there? The bed is big enough.”

His deep voice twisted into a laugh he couldn’t avoid. “Yeah, the bed’s not the issue… uh, it’s fine, though. The recliner’s nice.”

He took a step back, but then you had grabbed his wrist.

“Wonwoo,” you said his name in a tender, breathy, desperate sort of way that sent his heart shattering to his feet, your eyes glistening through the sparse light like two comets, “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

Fuck—it was all he could think—fuck, fuck, fuck.

With your fingers still wrapped to his wrist, Wonwoo pushed his hand gently against the side of your face. He was closer to you now, applying a soft pressure to angle your head up at him. You were breathing thick per every second that passed, holding his eye contact without one fracture, smiling arch. Wonwoo wanted to drink you.

Leaning into his palm, you swallowed and squeaked, “please?”

His thumb was on your chin. Right under your bottom lip.

“Fuck, you can't look at me like that…” Wonwoo rasped in a low, hushed voice that was struggling not to crack.

Truly, he meant it.

Your hand slid further along his wrist, almost tickling him.

“Ple—”

Immediately, Wonwoo pressed his thumb past your bottom lip and onto the ridge of your lower teeth, stifling that dangerous little word before it could hit his ear the wrong way and render him spineless.

“No more, okay?” He murmured, slowly sliding the digit from your warm, damp mouth, feigning obliviousness to your thighs clamping together and the manner in which your fingernails dug at his skin.

There was another moment of intense, humid silence while he wiped the wetness against the edge of your jaw.

“Seriously,” Wonwoo firmed up his voice, “no more.”

When you at last seemed compliant, nodding, Wonwoo let his hand drift from your heated-up face. You stayed in place, quiet as ever, on the edge of his bed, watching him disappear through the doorway.

As he collapsed onto the recliner and pulled the blanket once pooled on the floor over his body, Wonwoo didn’t even bother shutting his eyes or removing his glasses. Instead, he stared up at the popcorn ceiling, letting his heart thump, thump, thump and his mind wander until he naturally couldn’t fight the imminent feeling of sleep.

It certainly didn’t help that you had wandered into his dreams—dreams that he should probably keep to himself, warped fully by desire and longing.

—END OF PART FIVE.

[l-in-the-light]

The most embarrassing series of posts about Lawlu you will ever read: edition Wano (part 13)

Sorry for the long wait, not only I needed a break (Silent Hill 2 remake came out <3), I also had troubles in general writing notes on tumblr for a while, for some unknown reason! But we're back to our Lawlu's love tale, now finally making it into Wano my beloved.

We start on the ship heading to Wano. Luffy is getting depressed over his bounty for the first time. We know he cares a lot about his bounty poster, apparently he always wanted to be on one ever since he was a child and Shanks told him stories about pirates. He also wants to impress Shanks, so there's also that.

But it's possible part of the reason why Luffy is depressed is because... his bounty would be now lower than Law's. LOL. Dressrosa ended with same amount of cash placed on their heads ;) I dunno if it's reallly part of Luffy's reason, but he did see Zoro and Sanji fight over their bounties before multiple times, so it's probably not a stretch that it might have rubbed on him a little, haha. Just throwing this as possible food for thought :D

Kin'emon is not picking up? Who cares, Luffy has enough of waiting. Which is understandable, but also... we know already that he can't get to Wano fast enough, he was in this speedruning mode ever since they left Zou. He's so close to seeing his crew and Law again, waiting even few hours more is simply killing him in those circumenstances.

Luffy immediately got immersed into roleplaying a samurai, but besides using "gozaru/verily" speech pattern, he mostly just focuses on his sword he practically snatched from the Tengu guy. He's so happy that not only he has a sword, but it's even one of the cooler ones. He holds it up like he wants to show it off, and then throws away the scabbard and claims he can slice people too.

I don't really want to doubt Luffy here, but he spent so much time with Zoro, practically since the beginning of the manga, and he never got interested in any swords before. Not even once. He seemed to interact with any only twice: when he found it for Zoro before freeing him in East Blue (he wasn't particularly interested in them yet, but he did get impressed with Zoro's skills), and when he held it for Law for half of Dressrosa.

So what do you think caused Luffy's sudden interest in swords? If your guess is Luffy's first ally, you're probably scoring a jackpot. Luffy wanted to feel cool and show off with his sword, because he kept looking at Law doing cool stuff with his own one, and Luffy decided he suddenly wants to do the same. Luffy usually has simple reasons for stuff, after all. Maybe he even imagines how it's like for Law to hold and fight with the sword, while he's at it.

It's also worth noting how Luffy is shamelessly admitting that what they're about to do will destroy Kin'emon's plans (Law's, actually, as we will see in a few moments) and declares he will just apologize for it later. It's funny for multiple reasons in retrospection, because: 1. Luffy never actually apologized, lol. 2. He indeed got away with it easily (waaaay too easily) 3. Luffy totally knew at this moment he will get away with it. Cheeky brat! And yes, he was right about that. He knows his Torao well and he knows he will be forgiven. If anything, it seems Luffy upon returning from Whole Cake Island decided to be openly cheeky when he knows a certain someone can handle it.

The action itself though will end up having very terrible consequences overall, but that's something Luffy couldn't have known yet.

"But you didn't even use it", indeed. Just simply carrying the sword around might be reminding Luffy of Law already. But also samurais (and ninjas) are just cool and it would be a waste not to have a sword like everyone else.

Also I'm always curious what Law does with his scabbard when he fights. It would be kinda funny if he throws it away too, lol (probably not up in the air like Luffy did, but he has to dump it somewhere, right? He doesn't carry his scabbard at his waist like Zoro, or on his back).

Law and Luffy's reunion! Yeah I know, at surface level it seems very bleak in comparison, after all Zoro got a glomping hug, just like Sabo did in Dressrosa. We actually don't see Luffy hugging people this way very often. Luffy also never attempts to hug or touch Law, not counting grabbing his clothes (which counts only as indirect touch).

But when we take a closer look at how they react about seeing each other, it does show they care and are happy to meet again.

Let's start from Law. He's resting (it's his last resting moment in Wano lol), his crew make a commotion, screaming "Captain, trouble! Strawhat and Roronoa are going to Bakura town!". But what Law picks up on is only this part: "Strawhat is in Wano?!" That selective focus in this scene says more than any expression or words could have shown us, it's like he didn't hear any other part, as soon as his brain connected the dots "they're talking about Luffy in Bakura town" but "Luffy isn't in Wano yet" which concludes in his deduction of "Luffy's finally here!". It's kinda cute, really.

Anime even emphasized this moment. At first Law asks "why are you so upset/making noise" but then picks up again only on the part about Luffy arriving in Wano, and even adds a line that wasn't in the manga: "So he's finally here", which only further shows he was indeed missing him, it's like it slips from his mouth before he can stop himself. He even gets up, his crew suddenly having all of his attention, just because Luffy's name was mentioned.

Indeed, Law, he is in Wano finally. You will regret feeling a tad bit happy in just a moment though.

And the blissful moment is over, Law is back to worrying 24/7, always about Luffy (and I guess, the raid's plan as well. But mostly about Luffy). Haha. It's okay, he likes to suffer this way, despite the stress.

Luffy got really personal very fast here. "Why is the food only for them?!". After experiencing his own childhood in Goa, seeing Rebecca starving herself and despite that Luffy was still firmly sticking to plan, and then witnessing Big Mom's sugar rampage, and finally the situation in Wano with people constantly poisoning themselves by drinking water from polluted rivers and being able to afford rice only few times a year (or less), Luffy snapped immediately.

That's the result of his experiences in Whole Cake Island, struggling to find things he could do (besides beating the Big Bad Guy) and facing Katakuri who was holding back for the sake of his family. Luffy rediscovered that he doesn't have to hold back what he truly wants to do anymore, as long as he keeps wellbeing of his dearest people in mind at all times. It's a good conclusion he reached here, but it's still not enough if Luffy wants to keep his promise of "making Wano a country in which his friends can eat as much as they want", Law will point it out to him later.

"He'll probably get mad" says Zoro, and one page later we have Law thinking "Roronoa knows the plan". Proving to us that Zoro meant actually Law there, not Kin.

"This is the worst possible thing that could have happened" thinks Law, and this will be important later for us to understand why Luffy had to land in Udon as the result of that. This is our strategy mastermind Law we're talking about here, he must have came up with a plan to deal even with "worst case scenario" (after all the raid plan didn't fail as the result!). He just really wished he could avoid it.

And funny thing, Law is *instantly* mad at Zoro for this outcome. "You swore that you wouldn't make waves!". Law knows everything that was going on with Zoro already when he's talking with him here. He knows he's a wanted man now, he knows Jack has been called up (thanks to Hawkins), and he of course put one and one together: Zoro chose not to stop Luffy from beating up Holdem. In Law's mind this is all Zoro's responsibility here, heh. Also just to show us his petty nature Law took the occassion to vent about every single little thing that he could think of, together with "you were supposed to be in the capital, not in Kuri!!". He had to get off his steam somewhere and Zoro happened to be the best target. Though everything Law said here is true and he has the right to be annoyed about it.

One thing worth noting is this: Law never blamed Luffy for this situation. Luffy didn't know about the plan, he just arrived and couldn't contact Kin'emon, and Law might vent sometimes, but he's not an asshole who would blame people for doing something wrong, while they had no chance to hear about the plan yet. It's simply not their fault then.

The anime emphasized my point as well, actually! Zoro puts the blame on Luffy (lol, Zoro, how could you do that to your captain!!) and as soon as he does that, Law's tone and expression changes. He understands now the situation differently, he thinks Zoro *tried* to stop Luffy, but Luffy was the one to push for what he wanted anyway. And yet... and yet Law is not mad at Luffy. He takes it as a fact and accepts, even if he dislikes the outcome.

He knows this will lead to bad stuff, but he even stops being angry soon after. And do you know why? Yes, of course it's because he likes Luffy a lot and cares for him, but he would scold him (even if not as openly as Zoro) if he thought Luffy is being unreasonable. He does scold Luffy when he later goes directly for Kaido, after all!

So why not now? The answer might be surprising, but it's the only one that truly makes sense. That's because Law has faith in Luffy. He might think he acts unreasonably at times, that he destroys plans, but he does not doubt him, ever. And it's not just a Wano thing either, it was like that already in Dressrosa. He was surprised and tried to push Luffy away when he came to his rescue, but as soon as Luffy declared he's not gonna leave Dressrosa to it's own fate, Law shuts up and accepts it. He doesn't doubt him or his decisions, even if he thinks they might lead to undesirable outcomes.

I can't tell you when exactly Law gained his faith in Luffy. Punk Hazard? But he already waited with Luffy for the rest of Strawhats crew there when they were supposed to escape, even if he complained about it. He didn't leave on his own, he stayed, and he couldn't know if they escape safely or not, they were risking their lives by staying and waiting. But if Law didn't develop his trust in Luffy on Punk Hazard, then the answer can be only one: it happened already on Sabaody. And personally, that kinda blows my mind. Upon first meeting with Luffy, Law started to have deep faith in him. Of course, it doesn't mean he won't *worry* for him, that's a different matter altogether, lol.

Back to being a worry cat Law. "Where's Strawhat-ya?" he can be so one-track minded sometimes haha.

Finally, a reunion! Look at Luffy here, he's basically crying out his excitement at seeing Torao again. "It's been so long!!" it was two weeks indeed and he already told similar line to Zoro before, which is also quite curious. But the moment he spots Law, Luffy's full attention is on him, and he spots him almost immediately too.

Let's think about this reunion from Luffy's point of view, okay? He arrived at Wano and is pretty much alone. He's thrilled to see Zoro, but meeting Zoro was by pure chance, Zoro had no idea where Luffy is (nor where he himself is as well, probably, lol. It is Zoro after all). But Law? It's clear as day he seeked out Luffy (with his own initiative! not simply sending his crew after him! despite Bepo's little incident coming in the way too!) and he indeed found him. From Luffy's POV, Law was the one who searched for him to see him again, to reunite and probably to talk (it is Law, he does talk a lot - when it comes to plans xD). And to achieve that so quickly, it's clear he was waiting and observing, to show up and fetch Luffy as soon as he arrives anywhere near the centre of Wano.

And yeah, sure, Law doesn't say anything upon their reunion there, but Law never says any greetings, like ever, so this is in-character. But his eyes, the way he looks there at Luffy, seem to reflect the exact same sentiment Luffy has. Remember his "finally" line from before? Yep, it's been a long time, and not just for Luffy. They clearly both missed each other.

And then Law drops the bomb "This is rebellion". Wait, but where's the scolding for ruining all the plan?! Well, there's none.

Just a moment later Law just lets Luffy do whatever he wants and doesn't comment on anything anymore.

In anime he only sighs to himself. (also bonus points for sharing sweatdropping moment with Zoro, the guy who was with Luffy practically from the start, haha).

While the people in Okobore town are eating and celebrating, Luffy is talking with Tama, and Law is just there at the side, facing away. Why? He's guarding against the possible enemies approaching, it's his swordsman's instinct. And that's his response to Luffy's actions in the end. It's an alliance, they're in this together, if Luffy does something, Law actually follows through and he doesn't need any prompt for doing that. He falls into this role naturally, because... because he worries so much xD

And again, in the manga Law only ever scolds Zoro, and not Luffy. Luffy doesn't even have to apologize to Law, heh.

In anime they played this scene a bit differently, Luffy is mockingly roleplaying Law there, pretending to be scolding them and making a serious face (yes, this is Luffy mimicking Law's usual face and tone and words, lol. Ain't he cute? Luffy does it a lot to his crewmates actually, we saw him do that quite a number of times: he pretended to be Sanji, Zoro, Usopp and Chopper. Usopp often joins him, he pretended to be Robin before, for example. Luffy probably would have pretended to be Nami too if he wasn't afraid of her. Yet, he's not afraid of Law in the slightest, lol). Actually, it seems he made this impersonation of Law just because he wanted to get a reaction out of him, acting like a spoiled kid... or a spoiled younger sibling, in fact.

Law gets annoyed at the call out, but besides this one line "you don't get to scold anyone!" he still doesn't scold Luffy for what he did, at all. The scolding is only about "how dare you steal my line and use it inadequately!". In the anime he does get a small petty payback on him for this later, lol.

This is an interesting scene. Law asks why Kiku is tagging along and Luffy reassures him it's fine. After that Law doesn't question her anymore.

The anime even shows us that Law is seeking Luffy's opinion in particular, asking him to make sure "is it really okay?". He wants to know if Luffy trusts her. Upon hearing that he indeed does, he accepts it as good enough reason and neither asks again nor worries about Kiku's presence at all. Just because Luffy said it's okay.

That's Law's level of faith in Luffy, like I said before, he never doubts him and even seeks out his opinion. Someone (who by all means is smarter than Luffy himself) *seeks out* Luffy's opinion in particular, trusting it, despite the fact that most people think Luffy is just carefree and doesn't think about anything too deeply.

Even Luffy's own crew tends to doubt Luffy in smallest things (Robin warning Luffy about betrayals in alliances instead of trusting in his faith about Law, Usopp and Nami always protesting about dangerous stuff, Zoro doesn't trust Luffy handling a sword, Sanji thought Luffy can't beat Big Mom and also doesn't need him anymore despite Luffy saying otherwise etc.), but so far I didn't see even one moment in which Law doubted Luffy in any way. The closest to it would be on their trip to Dressrosa when he scolds him "we can't go there without a plan!" but literally one moment later he agrees to eat breakfast with them, just because Luffy declares it's meal time. He complained but still went on with it.

Let this sink in :)

This vid doesn't have the original voice lines since it's a music video (borrowed with permission from @lutorao ❤), but it's fine because I want you to pay attention to the dynamics here, which can't really be captured in screenshots.

Luffy is getting impatient and wants to know what Law and Zoro mean by the "ghosts of Wano". Zoro quickly dismissed him so Luffy moves on to pester Law about it and he acts totally spoiled about it. Frowning he leans to him from one side but noticing that Law looked at him, he moves away to his other side instead, and Law's eyes follow him there immediately. Luffy's frown turns into a playful expression instead, he's totally doing it on purpose because he enjoys when Law is looking at him.

Law is lost in his own thoughts, but as soon as Luffy approaches him, he gives him full attention, and he can't help but follow him with his eyes too. He catches himself falling for Luffy's little game, so he stops and answers him "you will see it soon enough when we arrive". Law totally got played here, he allowed it to happen actually, if anything he enjoyed it as much as Luffy did, but he feels like he can't lose his face so he puts an end to it with firm but also not dismissive words. After all he can blame only himself and his own affection for Luffy for falling for that little "attention seeking" game. This is yet another proof to me that Law likes to watch Luffy, likes to spoil him, likes to give him attention too. He doesn't do it all the time only because he wants to maintain his "face".

At the end of this scene Luffy gives up and calls Law "kechi" which is probably the most awful nickname Luffy have given anyone so far in the series (together with "four swords style" name-calling for Zoro lol). It's often translated as "mean", but we know Luffy better than that already, he would never call Law mean, not even while joking. Literally the Japanese word means something like "cheapskate", emphasizing Law's refusal to tell Luffy immediately, so Luffy thinks Law is holding out on him (he's just a bit bored and impatient though). I guess Luffy isn't used to be told to wait, not coming from Law at least. Law spoiled him too much heh.

Personally this is my second favourite Lawlu moment from Wano, besides the ghost story. And this one is anime-only ❤ great job, Wano's anime arc!

This is also Law and Luffy's moment. Luffy's surprise that there's no castle and Law reminding him "I told you it's ruins". In anime Luffy adds afterwards "oh, right!". It's just a cute conversation those two have. Also another moment showing us Law doesn't leave Luffy hanging, even if he has to repeat himself.

The same happens just a moment later, when they're walking around, and Luffy comments that this place is kinda creepy. Law also immediately replies to him, providing an explanation. Luffy really doesn't even have to ask for attention anymore, he's always getting it anyway. Law would never ignore him.

And here comes the fan favourite (mine as well hehe): Law tricking Luffy that Kin'emon and the rest of the samurais were ghosts all along. Yet another example of Law's teasing and deadpan sense of humour, btw.

Let's analyze it step by step. It's neccessary to point out that Luffy is actually the first one to arrive at the idea that "they're dead", without any sort of prompt from Law. Luffy immediately jumps on that idea "they have graves, are they actually dead, that's why I couldn't contact them" and then in his panic he asks Law "Where's Kin, wasn't he supposed to be here??". Law didn't really have to do much for Luffy to believe they're ghosts. All he had to do was to not deny it openly.

Now let's try to see it from Law's point of view. He simply showed Luffy the graves, witnessed him panic and then seeking confirmation or denial from him, because he would believe whatever Law would tell him, that much is clear. And Law couldn't stop himself from leading him on a bit more. He didn't actually lie to him in any way or actively tried to trick him, he just decided to say things that don't exactly deny or confirm openly the ghosts idea. His only responses are "it's not just Kin, look at other graves", and then "he might come up in the middle of the night, like yesterday", and finally "It's not my place to tell you". He's not lying, he's just slightly leading Luffy to spiral more into his own doubts, lol. Such a troll.

He's also super pleased about it, look at his shining eyes there. We never see Law's eyes shining like that, it's a proof of how amused he is despite his deadpanned face. Luffy on that other hand believes Law immediately and even lets go of him (anime-only extension of the scene), devastated. He got successfully trolled, lol.

We know Law is saying bullshit here, because his eyes are hidden, heh. Luffy gets so agitated he grabs Law by his clothes (first time he ever did that, Law gets his payback for that in raid on Onigashima). He's not doubting Law, not really, he's just really confused, because so far Law always gave him a clear answer, every time Luffy asked about something (and often even when he didn't ask). Law's reluctance to answer here clearly makes Luffy so worried, he is ready to kick ass of whoever caused Law to behave in this way, because he thinks it's just too painful for Law to properly say what's going on (the same way it took Law a while to share about his true reason why he's after Doflamingo!). Luffy's reaction is very understandable, but Law's? He's totally playing with him, lol. This all takes place in same episode in the anime, in which their playful interaction from above also happens.

Law probably thought it's cute how Luffy immediately jumped to the "they're ghosts!" conclusion. He wanted to see how far he can push him and how scared he can actually get. If you wanted proof of how much Law missed Luffy, this is actually it. Despite usually distancing himself so much, here he literally couldn't stop himself from playing a trick on Luffy, just so he can see a new face expression on his face. Law in Dressrosa wouldn't allow himself that, but Law after the two weeks of seperation does. Seperation makes the heart grow fonder.

It's worth noting that despite trolling him and getting grabbed, he still doesn't want to outright lie to Luffy :)

Law plays along when Kin'emon shows up. Law can be such a little shit sometimes, lol. Luffy is quickly getting more distressed.

And his surprise reaches it's peak here and he screams, terrified. Meanwhile Law just stands there, enjoying the show quietly.

Luffy is so relieved that Kin'emon is alright and isn't a ghost. And then he immediately complains to Law, accusing him of lying, to which Law calmly denies "I didn't say he was dead, did I?". This is literally the first time Law played a trick/joke on Luffy, and the bottom line is, Luffy isn't even fully aware of it. He just thinks Law was saying things in unclear way and tells him not to do that, lol. He suspects Law probably did it on purpose (after all he never did that to Luffy before! always providing clear explanations), but he still doesn't understand why ;)

Law turns away in the anime, probably with the intention to smile or snicker to himself without being noticed, but when Luffy makes an angry face at him, he can't help but look at him anyway. His eyes just always wander towards Luffy.

This is it, the in-depth analysis of the joke Law played on Luffy. Did it destroy it for you or made it even funnier ;)?

This is a fun little whimsical moment between them. Again, Luffy wonders outloud whether Kiku knows Kin'emon, and Law, completely unprompted, provides his own insight to clear Luffy's confusion. "It looks like more than just knowing each other" (implying: they're kinda close). Luffy doesn't get it immediately, but observes their interaction for a bit longer, and few moments later realization dawns on him.

And that's all thanks to Law, of course. He pointed it out to him as soon as Luffy voiced his confusion. This shows that not only Law always pays attention to Luffy and answers his questions, never ignoring him, but also helps him comprehend stuff Luffy never could before. Like a good older brother would.

It's the same in the manga, though it's a shorter version.

And then we have another reunion. Luffy gets hugged by Chopper and Carrot, and it seems Law is staring at them. Taking into account the scene before (him commenting on Kiku and Kin knowing each other very closely), it's likely he thinks the same way here about Luffy, Carrot and Chopper. He also might be a bit jealous actually, after all it seems Strawhats hug each other, but Law didn't get a reunion hug (not that he could handle it, seeing how poorly he handles most touches and closeness, but doesn't mean he can't wish or yearn a bit for one anyway). Also after observing Strawhats closeness with each other on multiple occassions, he tries to act more affectionately with his own crew as well. He's a good observer and learns a lot just from watching from the side.

And I ran out of space already in this part, haha (I thought I would at least make it till the scene when Luffy runs off to fight Kaido, lol). Including anime kinda affected the pace and made the post even longer! But I think all those additional scenes are really worth it, they're pure gems :3

Tbc in future parts about Wano :D

[giowritess]

fortnight [4]

gif by @dameronscopilot

pairing | Benny Miller x female!reader [Grace Stratford] summary | you somehow end up pretending to be Benny's girlfriend for two whole weeks. is your heart going to survive that? probably not. warnings | making out, mention of certain body parts and i think thats all? word count | 1,4k author's note | im SO sorry that i took so long to post this!! my 3rd year (from 4!! almost over) of college has recently started and besides that i spent a full week from dusk till dawn on an archaeological expedition and i was so tired that i completely forgot that i already had this piece all done and ready. i particularly liked this piece very much heheh this series is slowly reaching its end, i think we'll have 2 or 3 more pieces at least. after that, i'm planning on some rick flag, bucky barnes and will miller one-shots for the future, so if you enjoy my writing, be sure to stick around, maybe activate notifications, send asks, anything! and in case you're wondering: yes i do take requests thank you very much. a sweetheart also known as @igotmajordaddyissues asked if i had a taglist and i don't, but here you are, one just for you. <3 as always, english isn't my first language and this wasn't proofread. anyway, i hope you enjoy it. kisses from gio! part three | masterlist | main masterlist

You didn't mean to. Truly, you hadn't meant at all to do that. But that was how you wake up: face pressed against his naked chest, his arms wrapped tightly around your torso and both your legs tangled together.

Sleep had caught up so quickly on you last night that you had no recollection of him going to bed.

“Don't even think about getting up,” Bemy grumbled from where his head was tucked on top of your head. “Too damn early.”

True. From the closed blinds you could barely see the first glimpses of the day sky trying to infiltrate the room.

“How'd y'know I was awake?” You asked. He wasn't even looking at you.

“Because when you were asleep you weren't so stiff in my arms,” he replied, moving a bit so he could look at you, and damn. The moment his eyes found yours, it was as if someone had punched all air out of your lungs.

How was it possible for him to look even prettier like this, fresh from sleep, with glossy eyes and tousled hair? It wasn't fair. At all.

Him looking like that made you start to imagine things. Things like how he'd look after a long night of fucking. How his hair would look after hours of your fingers running through it, tugging at his roots.

“Why’d'you run away from me last night?”

That was the last thing you expected him to ask.

"I didn't run away from you,” you quickly replied, averting your eyes when his gaze got too heavy. “I was just tired.”

He didn't buy it, and you knew.

Benny chuckled, his voice still hoarse from sleep. “Yeah, right,” he murmured.

The truth was, you didn't know, either. Everything was so damn confusing that you had to constantly remind yourself it was all a farce. But maybe it was time to say to Hell with it and let loose. You looked at him again and found his eyes already on you.

“We're having fun, right?” Benny asked. Was that... concern in his voice? Or even, if you squinted, a tiny bit of insecurity?

How on Earth could you not be in love with him?

Yeah. To Hell with it.

“Yeah. Course we are,” you replied, smiling at him, and he smiled back. “Now shut up, 'cus we still got a few hours of sleep.”

He chuckled, apparently content with your answer, and resumed his previous position, tucking his head on top of yours and tugging you even closer.

Dying suffocated in Benny Miller's chest would be a lovely death.

***

It was close to half nine when you woke up again. Benny was still sound asleep, but you fought with teeth and nails against the temptation to snuggle closer to him and got up, earning a grunt from him in answer when you escaped his arms.

You were in dire need of a run. Your exercise routine was sacred—exercising was what kept you sane. Now, in this situation with Benny, you needed it more than ever. You loved running; it helped to clear your head and put your thoughts in order. There was nothing that a run couldn't fix.

That was the spirit you were in by the time you got back, drenched in sweat, with hair sticking to your forehead and your sports bra glued to your body like a second skin. Indeed, your head never felt clearer.

It wasn't bad, either, that Benny was the first thing you saw when you got back to the house—nevermind that he was talking to Samantha. He saw you first, and his sour expression changed instantly, opening a big grin.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said, wrapping an arm around your waist, and you pressed a kiss against his lips. His finger tightened on your waist.

You turned to Samantha and smirked.

“Sorry, Pam. Gotta steal my man,” you said, grabbing his hand and steering him away from her.

He offered no resistance at all, unlacing his fingers with yours and happily letting you pull him wherever you wanted to. You had no place in mind, however, the only goal was to make her jealous, so you dragged him to the kitchen and pulled him to the side, out of her sight. He stood with his back to the wall and you in front of him. Still hand in hand.

“You definitely made her mad now,” he said, laughing.

“That was the intention,” you replied, a smirk still on your lips.

Silence installed itself between you two, reality downing. You were completely alone in the kitchen. There was no need to keep the act on, but you couldn't bring yourself to let go of his hand. You saw as he glanced at your lips, going back to meet your eyes. You knew damn well what he was seeing in them—lust. And you could almost swear that was what you were seeing in his, too. You felt a tug on your hand—he was tugging you closer, and you let him, until your body was pressed flush against his. You could barely breathe.

Holy shit. This was really happening.

His hand left yours, going to your waist. The skin on your midriff was searing hot; you could say it was because of the exertion from the run, but you both knew it was because of his touch.

You didn't dare speak, afraid to break whatever spell you were in. You didn't dare blink, either, wanting to commit to memory every trace, every inch of his beautiful face. You'd never noticed that his left eye was full of small brown dots. It all fit so perfectly.

“Benny?” You whispered.

His left hand made its way to the back of your neck. You suddenly couldn't care less that your body was drenched in sweat, because all that mattered now was that his hands were on your body.

And then his lips were on yours, attacking, conquering and domineering every inch he could. His tongue slipped inside your mouth and he pulled you impossibly closer. Were he shirtless, you'd feel every trace and nook of his abs. His touch was urgent, needy—almost as if he'd missed you. Well, you sure did—for two years you dreamt of anything like this happening again. It felt like heaven; every touch of his lips sent shockwaves through your body, heat pooling at your core, making you feel all tingly and electric. Despite his shirt being in the way, you could still feel the traces of his sculpted chest; you were holding yourself back from slipping your hands under his shirt and wandering. Instead, you held yourself back and slipped your hands to his neck, one hand tugging at his hair–which was in the perfect length to be pulled at–and the other scraping your nails through his scalp, eliciting a groan from him.

“Fuck, Gracie,” he murmured against your mouth.

As if in response, one of his hands slipped to your ass and squeezed, hard. The thinness of the sports shorts you were wearing meant that it feet almost as if there was nothing between his hand and your skin. You wished there wasn't.

It was your turn to moan against his mouth.

There were no thoughts in your head. Just Benny, his hands, his mouth and his cock, that you could feel rock hard, straining against his shorts and pressing against you.

The loud clang of metal pans hitting the floor took you both out of the spell you were in, making you jump away from Benny, heart racing, almost as if you were both kids caught doing something wrong.

A chuckle came from behind you. “Sorry, lovebirds,” Elisa's voice came from behind, Luke's girlfriend.

You took one look at Benny, puffy red lips, chest heaving, and, like a coward, sprinted to the shower. _

By the end of the second day, you were slightly more accustomed to the role of Benny's girlfriend. He played the role dutifully, always close to you when he wasn't doing something, his hands always finding an excuse to touch you. You couldn't deny that it felt good. The kiss, however, was't discussed once, and you were thankful for that. You weren't really sure that you wanted to discuss it.

When you proposed this charade to Benny, you mentioned his ex and your ex as reasons. Now, you couldn't care less about your ex. To be honest, he hadn't even crossed your mind once in the last few hours. Benny was all that occupied your thoughts—and the occasional glares from Samantha, which you thought funny as fuck.

Again you went to bed before him. But by the time you woke up the next day, you were happy to be wrapped around Benny.

by @reveriesources

[cynosfunnyjokes]

Held in the Arms of Another

Characters: Gorou (Lumine and Kokomi Mentioned (Reader is not Traveler))

Genre: Angst

Summary: The Vision Hunt Decree is finally over and your lover, Gorou, is finally back in your life- but things aren’t how you thought they would be…

Notes: A lil angsty fanfic I wrote for myself like a year ago that my lovely friend proof read! It was originally meant to have a happy ending but I never wrote a second part (gotta love good ol angst to fluff). but uhH- if enough people are actually interested, I might write a second part?? This is also posted on my AO3 (cynosfunnyjokes)!

With the Vision Hunt Decree and war finally being over, thanks to the dear Traveler and the group of people who helped alongside her, everything was finally calm. Everyone could now relax and life was able to continue on as it had before.

By default, you had assumed that Gorou, your lover, would be able to spend more time with you now to make up for the time that you both had lost to his position as General of the Watatsumi Army. During that time, he had prioritized everything else- which was fair, with people having their Visions stolen from them by the Raiden Shogun and then the whole issue with the Delusions- but that didn’t do much to deflect the slight pain you felt when he would scurry off in the early hours of the morning with a light peck on the lips and a quick mumble of, “I have to go see Her Excellency.” or anything along those lines.

Many nights were spent alone in a cold bed that was much too big for one person. His side of the bed would remain vacant until the early hours of the morning when he would finally step through the door…. If he would even show up. 

Sometimes, you would have to remind him to take care of himself- to rest when he was tired- and more often than not, it would lead to small arguments. By the end of the night, one of you was embraced in the other’s arms with a loose promise of trying to do better.

Then, one day, the mysterious Traveler showed up with her odd floating companion. The legendary Traveler, who had brought down a dragon to save Mondstadt and won a fight against a Fatui Harbinger, was now joining the Resistance to help take down the Shogun. You were grateful, really, you were, along with the other Inazumans that she had saved, but after everything settled…. Why was she still here? And why was Gorou all over her? Even with the extra free time, the hybrid was still barely at home.

Was he growing tired of you? 

The Traveler was far better- it was a fact that you couldn't deny. She was amazing at everything and hell, she was more attractive as well. With this thinking, you couldn’t find it in yourself to blame him for wanting to be around her more. Honestly, who wouldn’t?

Watching him leave early in the morning to follow Lumine like a lost puppy only to come home late at night when the moon was in its trek through the sky, it really hurt. Maybe this was his way of indirectly ending the relationship- by distancing himself almost completely. 

That thought alone almost had you in tears half of the time.

This went on for two weeks before you'd finally had enough. It was tearing your heart apart the more you saw your dear lover less and less. Would it kill him to spend a day with you? Apparently so.

Some days, he would rush off early before you would wake up. Today seemed to be one of those days.

The room was mostly dark, save for the small rays of sunlight peeking over the window sill, flooding a cold, and dim light. However the sun wasn’t what drew you from your slumber; it had been the sound of your lover clumsily pulling his clothes on. All that was visible to you was his back, tail softly swaying back and forth as he tugged on the armor that usually adorned his upper body. Sitting up with a yawn escaping your lips, you raised a hand to rub the grogginess from your eyes, as the other moved up, muffling the yawn.

Fluffy ears twitching at the sound, Gorou whipped around, facing you with eyes wide in surprise. A nervous smile settled on his lips soon after. “Love?” His voice cut through the silence of the room like a knife, “Why are you up? Did I wake you?” One of his eyebrows quirked up as his head cocks to the side.

Oh, how you missed his voice. It was calming. Comforting. 

Instead of answering his question, your eyes shift to his, and your lips part to ask a question of your own. “Are you going out with Lumine again?” Even you were shocked at the coldness in your tone, although at this point, you were too tired to show it. You already knew the answer, but there was a lingering hope that you clung onto. The hope that maybe- just maybe- he would stay here with you instead. Finally.

A smile spreads across his face as he nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, I am!” He sighs as he turns to grab his gloves and accessories for his arms. Unfortunately, by doing so, he missed the crestfallen expression that shifted onto your face.

You could almost feel the shattered pieces of your heart piercing through your ribs like glass. 

The sound of Gorou getting ready hardly overruled the tension in the thick sound of silence. 

“Really?” The tone of your voice, so soft and sweet, but tainted with heartbreak, “You seem to always be with her as of late. It’s almost like you’re dating her instead.” Your eyes darted down to the blankets, not wanting to meet his anymore.

Gorou froze in his spot for a moment, visibly taken aback by your statement. He turned, facing you with confusion written on his face, “What do you mean?” His voice matched his expression. Had he not realized how much time he had been spending with the Traveler? Or was he playing innocent? Maybe he would deny it until he would finally end it with you. 

“Well, you’ve been spending so much time with Lumine. It’s almost like you’ve replaced me with her.” Your voice was wavy and full of hurt, but your gaze shifted back up to him regardless.

Something seemed to click in his head, his confused expression shifting into a blank look. “Are you...jealous?” He scoffed, almost in disbelief, “Y/n, you know how she saved us. Why are you- Why would you…” his voice got quieter as he trailed off, watching your expression shift to a sour one. He could see the tears welling up in those beautiful orbs that he adored so much, threatening to spill over.

"Y/n…" Your name left his lips, his voice was soft- completely different from the one he had just been using- as the realization set in. He lifts a hand, reaching out to touch you in hopes of comforting you, but you flinch away. Gorou’s heart all but shatters in his chest as his ears flatten slightly.

Defeated, you stood from where you had been sitting, and slipped your shoes on, not bothering to grab anything except for your vision, the elemental emblem lighting up as you grabbed it. 

“I..” your voice small, and shoulders drooped with tears falling freely now, “I should’ve figured you would respond that way. I’m not even sure why I tried.”

Gorou stood speechless as he watched you open the door with shaking hands, “Hey!” His voice cracked, “No, no, wai-!” The door slams shut, cutting him off. All he could do was stand there as the quick and steady sound of your footsteps began to fade away.

He was left alone, in the silence of the room.

[vacantgodling]

Hi, I hate to be a bother but is chapter 1 of Paramour (hope I'm spelling that right) the only chapter you've shared or are there more posted? your writing is so good and I've fallen in love with the story after seeing your anniversary art. Also, do you post it anywhere outside of Tumblr? unfortunately, the color scheme of your blog and the size of the font makes it hard for my poor eyesight to read (No hate to you btw I just zoom in real close)

hello hello!! firstly you are not at ALL a bother <3 (also you're spelling it right lol) regarding my desktop blog, i bumped up the font size so i hope that's helped it be a bit more readable? i'm planning on changing up color schemes and the like at the end of this year, but i hope the size change makes it more bearable ;3;

secondly, hearing that people like my writing enough to want to seek more of it has me giggling and kicking my feet so THANK YOU for enjoying chapter 1 and the art so much--there's some details that may or may not get added in whenever i eventually make a third pass at writing this behemoth and i spent 6 hours slaving over that drawing LMAO SO i really appreciate you reading it AND telling me you enjoyed it im so EEEE

at this time, i'm not formally publishing / putting out paramour because its still very much a work-in-progress (essentially, i'm working on draft 2 right now bc i'm doing some major outline renovating, but tbh i'm thinking that when i DO feel like i'm at the point that i want to publish it, i'm kinda leaning towards a serial style like @/stjohnstarling's what manner of man... but those are details for several years from now, i'm just rambling at this point) BUT FEAR NOT!! its my main obsession at all times and i have posted a TON about it on my blog. but for your convenience, i've compiled all the 'main' writing bits that i've posted on this blog over the past several years into this ask so that way if you wanna just read the 'main' meat and potatoes that i've decided to release from the vault so to speak... then here they are.

but, if in general you want to peruse my main wip tag, i talk about paramour so much its Ridiculous lmao -> s: paramour and you can check out the overview powerpoint intro i made for it here, just to get a clearer picture of what the heckie is going on lol -> powerpoint intro

anyway though, the list of main writings, broken into a couple of sections. i will also preface, that chapter 1 doesn't make it too apparent--but there is a LOT of sex, kink, and romance involved in this story. so proceed at your own disgression dear anon since i'm not sure how you feel about that lol.

MAIN WIP WRITINGS (in chronological story order)

paramour draft 2 chapter 1: pre-wedding

paramour (title drop 👀 but this scene is gonna end up slightly different in draft 2)

midnight query (amon and erecia talk in some undetermined chapter)

the bird & the worm (flashback to amon at 12)

but i am not (a bit from chapter 9 of draft 1)

masquerade (the first time hya and amon fuck—there is smut proceed with caution. also the latter half of chapter 9 draft 1)

an invitation (excerpt from chapter 10 draft 1)

displeasure (a relationship snippet from an undetermined chapter)

nervous (just hya and amon being kinky)

ties that bind (kink interrupted by feelings from some undetermined chapter)

divine (some sappy shit from an undetermined chapter)

hiccup (excerpt from chapter 20 of draft 1)

AUS & JUST FOR FUNZIES (meaning not in the main wip)

jealousy (amon & hya slums au—where both of them grow up in central halifax)

pleasure (amon’s birthday present 2023-> this is sex/smut so proceed with caution)

a fool’s errand (role swap au—aka the au where amon is rich and hya is the butler)

laundry (role swap au)

wedding invitation (role swap au—amon being friends with myrtus makes me insane actually)

i know what you’re saying (amon & hya slums au)

[aalghul]

HI ABSOLUTELY LOVE UR POSTS ALWAYS,,, also about the boy wonder, I'm continually terrified of it's portrayal of Talia... God... if I see one bit of nonsensical bullshit due to extrapolation from racist depictions of her I swear I'll lose it. So much of boy wonder feels so superficial and... full of flanderization... I just expected more... art very cute tho... kissing the art

Alsoo !!!! U ARE COOL !!! WOAHS LOVE UR POSTS !!!!! random question but would love to hear your thoughts on Robin lives :D (Shelia being acknowledged??? Died. Combusted. Loved that.)

HI, THANK YOU <333

boy wonder really annoyed me by bringing up jason and talia's connection incorrectly. she didn't even resurrect him. why is she being framed as some unpleasant figure who put him through torture? she saved his life by using a lazarus pit. of course, none of that is relevant because she's just another voice in damian's head calling him weak. apparently.

i didn't expect anything better the moment i saw barbara's batgirl on the cover tbh. the art really is creative, i wish it had been used with a better story because the writing's soured even that for me.

the story is very superficial. there is literally no substance to it. why is the secondary lead of an issue that mentions corporations pushing people out of low income housing areas tim drake? we could've had jason or, you know, stephanie brown. who was robin, in case the writer forgot. and dick's entire issue was insulting to read because what was the point of that? like at all. what did i even read.

there's also the fact that damian is trying to prove himself to be more than the assassin his evil mother and grandmother made him...but he apparently doesn't even have basic manipulation skills? he can't see through anyone's lies? he can only slash and kill like a mindless animal? what did i read. seriously.

onto robin lives! i talked a little about my favourite thing about sheila in robin lives here. also in the same scene we see sheila go from living to corpse, and it was really cool to see jason think of her the same way batman thought of him for over a decade: dying every time he remembers her. but to be fair to jason, he only knew sheila for a few hours. half of that time was spent projecting love and expectations built on catherine, which we also see in this scene because sheila saves him at first. so fun to read.

i think having the therapist mention that bruce likes to keep things "in the family" was a great touch. bruce was reluctant to bring in an outsider but he did it regardless because he loves jason too much to not get him whatever he might need. and then jason listening in on their conversation, the same way he did at the beginning of death in the family? taking his apparent mental unfitness as a sign that bruce doesn't think he's good enough for robin, again? but now he can't run to his old appartment, and later to sheila, because he's already tried finding his way back to his old life and it didn't work. his only chance is here with this family, so he has to prove it to himself that he's good enough for robin, and only then can he fight for his right to be by bruce's side.

and he doesn't succeed, but the story isn't tearing into him for it. the therapist says that heroism isn't the cure for ptsd. it's not a personal failing of jason's. that's the kind of stuff that's giving me hope for this one tbh.

[definitelynotaminion]

For the 500 words prompt on Patreon. Something soft and sweet between Link, Ganondorf, and Zelda.

Apparently I'm bad at 500 words, because this is 992. I still have five "500 word" and three "1000 word" prompt spots left on Patreon, if anybody is interested.

-

In a post-Calamities Hyrule, where the land is barely tamed and a few steps out of civilization invites attack by vicious monsters, there isn’t really a centralized government.

Whatever the monarchy used to be, rich and powerful enough to protect people or enact laws as needed, now there is... Zelda.

Still a princess, still Hylia reborn in mortal flesh, still revered by her people, yes.

But where before the royal family lived apart from most, in a high-towered castle with abundant resources, now Zelda is just another person in Hyrule.

She lives in a one-room house with the knight who once pledged his life, and the tall Gerudo warrior who was used as a vessel for the darkest evil known to humanity.

Ganondorf is not Ganon. A single glance at his face, or being within a hundred yards of him, proves that to anyone who faced the darkness or stood below a blood moon.

It is especially obvious that Ganondorf is not Ganon when he wakes up, though.

You’d think it’d be Link who slept in-- fearless, improper, wild Link, who woke up in a ruin and spent most of his new life in the woods and grasslands, places he is still much more comfortable in than civilization.

Contrary to expectation-- always, always contrary to expectation, Link-- the knight instead woke early, used to the chores one picked up while living alone. Fetch water early, hunt breakfast early, don’t leave foraging or mending or weapon maintenance for tomorrow, when it could be done today, be done now.

Link wakes with the birds and the dawn, seeming like a natural thing, a piece of the wilderness as much as a deer that steps into the garden. Like he’s some creature who just happened to be walking by a human house, not the one who lives there.

Ganondorf, however.

Like Zelda, he remembers every moment of their hundred years. Unlike Zelda, who is so relieved to be able to do things again (to teach children, to cook, to smell flowers, to read and write and experiment!), Ganondorf is mostly... tired.

Unlike Zelda, he spent a century a slave in his own skin, possessed by the darkness and unable to stop it, mind twisted and fighting his own hands as much as her.

So Ganondorf sleeps in, and they try not to begrudge him the many, many naps he takes, the reprise from violence.

It’s still very obvious who he is and who he is most certainly not in these moments, though.

Dor, Link signs, impatient. A ‘d’ on his biceps, which had flabbergasted the Gerudo and sent Zelda into shocked, inappropriate laughter the first time she saw it. Dor. Dor!

“He can’t hear you with his eyes closed, Link.” Zelda makes breakfast, when she rouses, some few hours after Link but before their third, and she makes breakfast now. It’s not that Link can’t cook.

It’s that Link thinks a cake is four ingredients. While he’s not wrong, and what he makes is edible, sometimes Zelda would like meals with more than, at most, five ingredients.

She’s making pancakes and fruit, with a vigorously whipped cream on top. Ganondorf will appreciate it. 

Like Zelda, food had been something unnecessary to him for so long, locked in a cosmic battle of holy and evil energy, more spirit than flesh for long, long decades.

Link rolls his eyes at her. He eyes the meal in progress with some suspicion. He has as much a sweet tooth as anyone, but is firmly of the opinion that every meal should have meat somewhere.

He’s also half-climbed onto Ganondorf’s massive, shrouded shape. The sheet drapes over his huge chest and arms only serves to accent how large a man he is, Link dwarfed next to him.

“He’ll wake up when breakfast is ready, leave him be.” Zelda leavens the pancakes with eggs and some powdered root, known to increase the rise. She cracks each egg carefully, meticulously avoiding a single shell piece fragmenting off.

Ganondorf moves in his sleep, yanking the sheet up higher, and the blonde Hylian accosting him goes comically flying. One of Links shoes goes soaring into the living room. He lands with a muffled thump, comically dumped from the bed, and when he stands his hair is a cucco’s nest.

He looks bewildered and offended at once.

He’s slept so much already, Link complains with his hands. We’re supposed to go riding today.

Ganondorf and Link had went on a multi-week crusade-- complete with battle maps, provisions, and scouting trips-- to find the largest horse in six different regions, large enough to fit a male Gerudo.

Now the massive, noble mount towers over Link’s horse-- a spotted “brown one” of no special breeding that followed him home one day-- and a descendent of Zelda’s original mare, whose bloodline predates the Calamity by several generations.

They are, point of fact, supposed to go riding today. Link had been in charge of packing a picnic lunch, a concept that had perplexed him for hours until they finally realized he didn’t get the point.

To Link, it made far more sense and took just as much effort to hunt fresh ingredients at their destination, and cook over a camp fire.

Butter sizzled on the iron pan and Zelda poured the cakes into it one by one, ignoring the steadily-more-ridiculous antics Link went through to wake up Ganondorf, including but not limited to tickling his chest with a feather, putting his hand in a bowl of water, and tugging on his long, red hair.

She did draw the limit on him bringing in a cucco to drop on Ganondorf’s head, a foiled last-ditch effort which made her inevitable victory all the sweeter.

And she did win, in the end: as the cakes cooked and the tempting smell filled their house, Ganondorf stirred as she knew he would.

“Sm’lls good, Princ’ss.” He slurs, blinking into wakefulness, and Link’s sound of wordless rage echoes across the countryside.

[sweaterrat]

Howdy, dorks ^^ guess who’s got lemlav lmao

This is Part 1 to a 2 part fluffy one shot! The other half isn’t finished yet, but as soon at it is, I’ll post it! Hope you enjoy my mid writing skills 💀 No beta read we die like gram gram </3

————————————————

⚠️!! WARNINGS !!⚠️ : N/A! Enjoy! <3

Soft Shell, Softer Touches

Two hours.

It’s been two hours since Donnie’s been gone for business with a certain group of well-dressed crooks, the Purple Dragons. Niyah was beginning to get worried. She knew she couldn’t call or text him because that could compromise Donnie’s (and her own) safety. So, instead, Janiyah sat on the floor of Donnie’s lab, impatiently waiting for him to come back.

Two hours and ten minutes.

This was torture. Where was he? Was he okay? Why did he insist on going alone?! Niyah’s mind began to wander.

Was he captured? Was he hurt? Was he okay? Was he unconscious in a random alleyway? Was he…

Niyah squeezed her eyes shut at that last thought. There was an uneasy feeling in her stomach that she wanted so badly to ignore, but the way it twisted and turned made her sick. Where was that dum-dum turtle—!

Suddenly, the mechanical door to the lab opened. Niyah opened her eyes to spot a exhausted looking—

“Donnie!” She sat up immediately and went to greet him. Usually, Niyah greets everyone with a hug, but for Donnie, she’d always give him a generous amount of distance and an occasional polite wave. The Softshell blinked as if he was surprised to see her.

“Where the heck were you?!” She almost shouted, worry woven into her words. Donnie just looked at her with a lazy expression. “Purple Dragons,” he simply replied. “Remember?” and he walked past her to get to his work desk.

“You were gone for two hours,” She stated, the worry never leaving her face. Donnie seemed to shrug it off. “You know how the Dragons are, they’re difficult.”

Niyah was bewildered at his indifference. Did he really not care? She spent hours worrying over him for nothing…? Donnie didn’t notice how quiet she got, a usual sign that she was upset about something. Instead, he hopped in his spinny chair and started to tinker with a big-looking, unfinished project. Niyah only blinked in surprise.

“You’re getting back to work?” Donnie didn’t spare her a glance, “Yep,” He replied lamely.

“But, you just got back…” Niyah said, more to herself than him. “The Dragons threw a wrench in my plans. I’m extremely behind schedule,” Don explained, an annoyed scowl on his face. Niyah couldn’t tell if that scowl was caused by the Purple Dragons or her. Still, she slowly approached the genius, taking the seat beside him. Donnie had added another chair to his lab a few weeks ago as a result of Niyah visiting him so often.

She sat a distance away from Donnie, almost afraid to get too close to him while he was in such a sour mood. Then again, something always had Donatello in a sour mood.

“I think you should take a break,” Niyah nearly whispered. She glanced from his work and to his eyes, hoping that he’d catch her stare and look back. But, to her disappointment, he did not. Instead, Donnie replied with, “I can’t possibly waste any more time than I already have.”

“Breaks aren't a waste of—“ Niyah tried to respond, but apparently, Donnie wasn’t finished. “Why do you care so much?” He finally looked at her. Niyah then realized the annoyed scowl was meant for her. She shrank back into her own chair, using her leg to slowly push herself back and create more and more distance.

“Sorry, I was just worried,” She mumbled, chest tightening as she avoided his stare. Donnie’s expression softened and he let out a soft sigh.

“I hope you know I’m more than capable of handling myself,” He grunted, turning away from Niyah and going back to his work. “You don’t have to worry.”

Niyah sat in silence after that. Donnie had wondered if he was being too mean. Niyah was more of the sensitive type, easy to get emotional. He tried to filter what he said to be less mean around her because, well, he cared. He cared about her, though he’d never admit it out loud. She always listened to him ramble about science and things he knows. Sometimes, she’d even ask questions about it too! They had recently begun studying astronomy and astrology together (Donnie wasn’t a fan of astrology but he couldn’t say no to her).

She’d always seem interested in what he had to say, even if sometimes she looked distracted. Donnie often wondered if there was something on his face with the way she stared at him. Niyah always listened with that small smile that Donnie (and he’ll never admit this,) adored.

Suddenly, snapping Donnie out of his daydream, Niyah quietly stood up. He watched her in his peripherals as she exited the room. Ah, she left.

Donnie sighed, running a hand down his face. Maybe he was being too mean. She spent hours in his lab just keeping him company, asking questions— not just about the current project— about him and how he was doing. Always making sure to check on him and making sure he’s eaten something at least. Donatello felt like he was taking her for granted… he felt like a jerk for being so annoyed at her being concerned for him. He wanted to apologize the next time he saw her. Maybe even thank her. But now, he could finally tend to—

The door to his lab opened again. Don snapped his head towards the light seeping into the cool, purple-toned room. It was Niyah again. And in her hands, a cup of hot coffee.

Oh. She had left to make him some. She went out of her way to do something for him even after he was being sour. Donnie felt his face warm at that.

She said nothing as she carefully placed the mug beside him, then sat back in her chair. Donnie eyed her curiously the whole time. “Careful, it’s hot,” She finally warned. Donnie tried to ignore the warmth of his face that was definitely not caused by Niyah, but by the heat of the coffee. Right.

“Thanks,” he mumbled hesitantly , glancing away from her, taking the mug in his hands. He lightly blew at the beverage before taking a sip. The drink warmed his chest. He had grown a tolerance to coffee a long time ago, but he still enjoyed drinking it. Donnie felt himself relax as he let out a sigh of relief.

“They didn’t hurt you, did they?” Niyah asked out of the blue. Donnie glanced at her, putting down his coffee. She had her head down on the desk, staring up at him. He could see the concern in her brown eyes though she didn’t express it externally. His stare softened and he blinked.

“No, nothing serious.” He lied, turning back to his work, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across his face at her persistent stare. Why was he so… nervous? Niyah stared at him before, even when she tried to sneak it. She seemed to study him in a way. Donnie got used to it after a while, but now, her staring at him was making him uneasy… in a good way?

“Why do you care so much?” He questioned quietly again, but differently this time. This question was soft and genuine; he really wanted to know. Donnie never looked back at her though. “About me?” He added.

Niyah smiled softly at his question before speaking. “Because you’re my friend,” she stated proudly, shifting slightly to fidget with the sleeves of her puffy, cream-colored cardigan. She sounded so certain, as if being his friend was enough of an answer.

“Because I’m your friend?” Donnie echoed, letting out a disbelieving chuckle. “Is it really that easy?”

“Yes,” she replied, her face warming as she held eye contact with him. Her dark cocoa eyes held an emotion… a feeling that Donnie has felt before, but couldn’t name. “Yes, it is.”

Donnie felt himself smile but quickly hid it in his palm. Niyah had a calm look in her eyes. Like two big black holes, dark and alluring, drawing him in the more he stared into them. A dark sea of mystery that he so wished to explore. He would have almost found himself drowning in them if he didn’t snap back into reality.

“Thank you,” Donnie muttered, unable to take his eyes off of the girl in front of him. “For caring about me.” This time, he didn’t hide the shy smile that was stained on his face.

Niyah sighed, “Anytime, Donnie.” She’s said his name a million times before, but for some reason, his heart squeezed. Donnie felt himself flush at her words, praying to whoever was up there that it didn’t show. It was like a triple homicide. Her eyes, her smile, her voice… he felt weak.

Weak.

Donnie remembered it. The stinging had somewhat lessened, enough that he almost could get used to the pain and forget about it. Still, Donnie winced, not at the pain, but at the way Niyah’s smile shrank as she noticed something was up.

WOOO!! One down and one to go! The second part might be a bit long, so deepest apologies for that. Hope you enjoyed this lil thingy I did way back in November lmao. Have a lovely day, ya dorks <3 (Also, very sorry for my awful writing 🕊️)

— Your Local Sweater Rat!

———————————————

PART ONE: (You’re here, silly!)

PART TWO: (Unfinished)

[maroonmused]

Hi! I’m so in love with how you write the spidey fam & I have a small prompt idea (please don’t feel pressured to do anything with it): while Rio is out of town for a few days Pete + Miles get to train more but Pete is stretched a bit thin between everything so when he keeps nodding off on Miles (while helping with homework, watching tv,...), Miles decides that Pete needs a break. When Petes crime-thingy goes off Miles sneaks out. He’s not nearly ready though + gets hurt. Pete to the rescue!

thank you!! i love exploring the little moments but sometimes it’s so hard pinning down one idea when my mind wants to go in a million places w these characters, so actually this prompt came at the most opportune time. been bouncing between a few Spider-Man wips and WHEW this just sparked something I’m sure I’ll finish, I’ve always wanted to go more into that post-SM1 DLC territory

can’t wait to finish this one, but in the meantime here’s a snippet:

“I can’t believe you got to fight a super robot maggia don.”

“Still trying to expel the image from my brain. Now I’m considering a lobotomy.”

“And you did it on a gigantic invisible Sable base on the Hudson.”

“Wasn’t so invisible once we got there, but pretty awesome bait for a certain species of shark.”

“And Silver Sable helped you with a giant ship that shoots lasers? That’s so–well, weird, since she kinda sicced a whole militia on you last year…”

“Friendships still blossom from weeds, apparently,” Peter mutters, half his concentration dedicated to an issue Miles raised over the phone the other day–his brand new web-shooters weren’t tailored to his dimensions. Peter had instead made a mimicry of his own. Which was still so, so awesome, and Miles admittedly spent hours in his apartment pretend-shooting them at an imaginary Sinister Six. For practice, not vanity. Obviously.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I have more to say about this link:

It follows on from this post, which I'll just link instead of reblogging to avoid putting that long thing all over people's feeds again. I'm half asleep after work but have to add a few things.

Firstly, there is one entry in that spreadsheet that's new to my collection. Yesterday, I'd set up the whole spreadsheet and was nearly ready to share it, when it occurred to me that, for all the hours and hours I've spent Googling various terms to try to get information on the elusive Chocolate Milk Gang, I'd not tried using the fact that someone people seem to refer to it as being named after milkshakes, not after chocolate milk. So out of curiosity, I Googled a few CMG members' names with the word "milkshake" instead of the words "chocolate milk". I tried a few names, but I knew the most likely name to bring up a result would be David O'Doherty, because as I already knew but that spreadsheet really proves, DO'D is the person who's by far most likely to talk about the existence of the CMG.

What I got is something I'm not sure I sufficiently appreciated last night, as I was tired from dealing with spreadsheet admin for way too long (seriously... the combined time I spent just on trying to write the spreadsheet into HTML format, and then figuring out the best way to upload/share an HTML file... way too many hours), so was focused on just adding that article into the spreadsheet at the last minute, and didn't think too hard about its significance. But looking at it again, this is fucking cool:

This article is from September 2006, just after the Edinburgh Festival. I'm pretty sure it's the earliest example I've ever found of someone referring directly to the Chocolate Milk Gang. The vast majority of that spreadsheet are explanations in the past tense - people saying they "used to be" in that gang. This one, and the Russell Howard article by Jay Richardson, I think are the only two sources that describe it in the present tense, saying these people are in that gang. And the Jay Richardson article is from 2007, so this pre-dates it.

The entire article is interesting, if you happen to be interested in the history of Edinburgh Festival comedy from the 00s, so therefore is extremely interesting to me and otherwise interesting to very few other people in 2024. But if you've enjoyed following along my obsession with that era, I recommend clicking the above link and reading through that whole article. It's an interview with David O'Doherty, based around the fact that he'd been nominated for the Perrier Award in Edinburgh that year, and had lost it to Phil Nichol. DO'D talks a bunch in that article about how awards like this are pointless and being nominated was kind of silly and he's not interested in winning it - it's relevant to context to know he would go on to win that award two years later, in 2008.

...The article does have a weird moment where they describe Jimmy Carr and Russell Brand as friends of David O'Doherty's. It's worth noting that, while a surprising number of cool comedians were apparently hanging out with Jimmy Carr sometimes around 2005, I have listened to a lot of hours of David O'Doherty in various formats talking about his comedy friends/influences/colleagues, and have never heard him describe himself as friends with Russell Brand. Or with Jimmy Carr, for that matter. I'm pretty sure he just mentioned to an interviewer that he'd gigged with those guys before, and because they'd both recently got very famous as of September 2006 (Jimmy Carr had just started hosting everything on TV, Brand was becoming a movie star), they decided to make their article more interesting by mentioning that DO'D worked with them. I'm just clarifying this to defend David O'Doherty's honour, while I'm directing people in 2024 to read an article that claims he hung out with Russell Brand - I'm pretty sure that isn't true, they were just both comedians in 2006.

Anyway, that article has some interesting comments from David O'Doherty on the nature of comedy and industry and awards and competitions, as well as summaries of his career up to that point. But obviously, the passage that was relevant enough to make it into my spreadsheet was this:

HIS MAIN EXTRA-CURRICULAR show was a series of midnight gigs as part of the newly formed , deliberately pompously titled Honourable Men Of Art troupe, in which he is joined by others who take a more considered approach to comedy, such as Daniel Kitson and Demetri Martin. The latter is probably, pound for pound, the best one-liner writer working in comedy today. "A lot of the late-night shows at the festival are just an opportunity for audiences to shout at the comics, so we wanted to try something different," says O'Doherty. "First of all, everyone was seated - we could have got more people in by using the standing space but we didn't. None of us are the hard-drinking, druggy type - in fact we're actually known as the 'Chocolate Milk Kids' because of our fondness for milk shakes." He has good reason to believe that comedy is now moving into an area away from the ubiquitous lads' material. "It's like the move music made from early rock 'n' roll to the more interesting, offbeat, psychedelic stuff in the late 1960s."

Right. Okay. What is this, David? Who the fuck are the Chocolate Milk Kids? I'd never heard that one before. Chocolate Milk Gang, Chocolate Milk Brigade, Milkshake Brigade. But Chocolate Milk Kids? Well that's just making a mockery of it.

...I have some shorter work days coming up this weekend, which I intend to use for further Googling of this chocolate milk/milkshake situation. I think I had it wrong in my previous post on this. My previous post said British people would use both the words "chocolate milk" and "chocolate milkshake" to refer a chocolate milkshake. And they wouldn't use any term to refer to chocolate milk, because it's not common enough there.

A chocolate milkshake - just so we're all on the same page - being something like this:

But after reading my post from yesterday, the British person who originally told me that clarified that that's not what he meant. He said that actually British people would use the term "chocolate milkshake" to refer to both the above drink - which is a milkshake - and to what I would call chocolate milk, which is this:

And they wouldn't refer to anything with the term "chocolate milk". And this may have been the case even more twenty years ago than it is today.

This explanation does less to clarify why they'd get named "Chocolate Milk Gang" for drinking milkshakes - because apparently British people definitely call milkshakes "milkshakes", in addition to calling chocolate milk "milkshakes". Waters are further muddied by the fact that sometimes they do refer to the gang by milkshake-based names, ie. Russell Howard calling it The Milkshake Brigade, and DO'D going with Milkshake Kids in that one article.

My British friend, who has explained to me this quirk of British language, pointed out that one explanation that would make sense is if, when they went to the diner Favorit, they were actually drinking what I, as a Canadian, would call chocolate milk. So the Canadian comedian Glenn Wool called them the Chocolate Milk Gang. And the British and Irish people in the gang described themselves as drinking chocolate milkshakes, but also used Glenn Wool's Canadian term for the actual name of their gang.

That would make sense, if it weren't for the fact that they're not nine years old. No one goes out to drink chocolate milk in the middle of the night. Milkshakes make sense, as a late-night alternative to alcohol for people who want to have a "night out" and drink something fancy but don't want to get drunk. Chocolate milk is just milk. It's a drink for children, and for sensible adults at sensible times of day, not for after late-night comedy shows.

It's also been pointed out to me that Glenn Wool is on social media, so technically, if I wanted to, I could just ask him. Which sounded like a less terrifying idea to me than the idea of contacting any other comedian, and it took me a moment to work out why it seemed that way. I'm pretty sure it's just because he's Canadian. Canadian comedians aren't impressive celebrities, Canadian comedians are people who do drugs with my brother (for the record, Glenn Wool has never done drugs with my brother, and I'm pretty sure has never met him, though as I write this as I realize it's possible he might have and I should find that out because that'd be a useful connection).

"Hey, sorry to message you out of the blue as a stranger, but quick question - did you, by any chance, call the most famous political satirist in the world a nerd in 2002? And if so, what terminology did you use?"

...I'm still half asleep. I need to go to bed.

[pharaohbean]

hey there chat. it's time for another college update

History: continues to be the greatest guy ever. however apparently my classmates are allergic to reading instructions because no one did the discussion posts correctly. please save me.

Physics: she is SO done with EVERYONE in that room. like she is genuinely wondering what is wrong with those kids. i wish i was kidding but you could TELL. im so sorry classmates. also I spent 3 hours writing half a lab report because apparently my mother decided they were a waste of time so I. never did them! so here i am spouting something out :sob: my lab partner apparently felt like he did so little though (he collected + assembled the data which is a lot imo but okay buddy) so he took the other half lol

Literature: pretty chill all things considered! he keeps going "people hear me and think im dumb" and maybe IM the dumb one bc ive never thought that?? but whatever

Calculus: OH TODAY WAS FUNNY we were talking about an equation used TONS in electrical majors and our professor is just like, "yeah what's everyone's majors really quickly?"

Me: I'm [program that allows me, a high schooler, to be in college for basically free]

Him: oh cool.

Him: has a crisis over this high schooler answering half his questions

Him: sorry you're a HIGH SCHOOLER?

Me: :3

....yeah. he also said I had the best discussion posts which like :pleading: I WAS HONORED?! (also im trying really hard to get out of them bc i HATE discussion posts)

[herrscherofmagic]

"There's hope in the wide blue sky"

Let's combine Ace Combat* and Honkai, said no one ever- except me :)

I have so, so much to say about this art. But it's 4am, I'm tired, and I just spent half an hour writing something that all got deleted because doing Ctrl+Z on Tumblr apparently undoes everything instead of just going back a little bit. so I lot like 10+ paragraphs of shit I had written down and I'm not gonna go back over all of it right now T_T

*note, this isn't actually based on any Ace Combat story

anyways, here's the TL;DR of what I was gonna say:

Honkai characters, jet planes. that's it! except not really, I've actually put a ridiculous amount of thought into this. A bit too much. really, way too much.

I have a whole AU built around this idea and I've been developing it for a couple months now. This artwork is the first time I'm actually releasing something related to this story, but I want to do more. Maybe comic someday, but definitely more art and probably some written stories too.

I'm also going to put HoV as the protagonist of this, and instead of her being a Herrscher, she's a normal person alongside Kiana, Bianka, and the rest of the crew. In this AU there's no Herrschers, just larger Honkai beasts like Chiyou, so we have HoV as a Kaslana sibling alongside Kiana and Bianka.

After all, we've seen it before- in Honkai Quest, HoV and Kiana were sisters! And in the main story we see Kiana and Bianka consider each other sisters. So why not put all three of them together in one big happy Kaslana family~

The story would probably focus on HoV and her relationships with her sisters and the rest of the Schicksal valks, especially Rita- I'm thinking of pairing her with Rita in this story since they'd probably be in the same age group (since Rita is one of the older Valkyries, and I feel like HoV would fit neatly into that category too).

Each of the Kaslana siblings would have their own bit of trauma to deal with, and even though the story is about a bunch of girls with fighter jets, I've actually been putting a lot of effort into thinking about their interpersonal relationships and how they view the world. This isn't just "haha nyooom planes", I really want to make a serious story about this y'know x-x

So yeah. I'll probably make a post talking more about this someday, but I'm about to head on a trip so it'll probably be a few weeks before I have time for that.

Oh yeah and I'm pretty sure the image quality is a bit screwed up but again, it's 4am. I'm done. cy@