#I just wanted to write like two or three sentences and then this happens
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Headcanon: Tim checks Bernard's pulse, a lot.
Bernard knows that he was not supposed to notice, but he can't help himself.
Tim checks his pulse. Like a worrying number of times.
Although the action in itself, Bernard shouldn't find it too alarming. It's Gotham for pete's sake, Bernard will proudly bark out laugh at you if you call yourself a Gotham native and NOT know how to CPR/check someone's pulse. It's just that Bernard feel like it's another small detail that cements the fact Tim is Red Robin. Tim's life was supposed to be a sunshine n' rainbows, dazzling, glamorous and fairly safe world of the rich or famous, but no one from that world should check a person's pulse with that much confidence and effectiveness. Tim checks Bernard's pulse like every fiber of his being was trained to.
Oh another thing that bothers Bernard is that Tim m typically checks Bernard's pulse when it's a quiet moment.
And those moments become the loudest that Bernard felt.
***
At the time, Bernard is too tired to move his study session back to his room. Add in the the combination of Tim's harsh lamp light glaring at him for the past 4 hours and lack of Monster drinks, his eyes deserves a much needed break. So, Bernard is just happy to accept his fate of laying down on Tim's very inviting soft couch.
Bernard soon loses himself to the fuzzy feeling of the boathouse that slightly rocks his body. His legs readjusts to the boats motion and Bernard hugs himself together to roll with the movement better. Bernard hummed at the moment he realizes that a storm must be coming and must be the one causing rocking.
Huh, Tim should really put some more rocker stoppers. Bernard curled farther into the couch at that thought.
Within a half of hour later, Bernard sleepily heard some commotion outside. Throughout the next hour, the boat slowly stopped rocking. Bernard curled towards the couch and it's pillows, silently mourning the lack of soothing rocking.
A window opens.
Rain comes in.
A couple of steps towards Bernard's self claimed study mess area.
A click of the lamp's switch being turned off.
A lot more steps.
A series of clicks and zips echos throughout the small boat.
A shower turns on.
After a good while, the shower turns off.
A wet towel has been dropped, rustle of clothing.
Steps going towards to the couch, to himself, Bernard.
Bernard is not delusional, he knew that there was a good chance that Tim would still be on that week long "business trip" a little bit longer than he did he would. That Bernard would have a lot better chance of seeing Tim in their favorite breakfast restaurant tomorrow than Tim surprising Bernard by crashing into study session in own boathouse at this afternoon.
But the buzzing feeling of Tim of brushing the back of his hair was so addictive that he couldn't help but thank his lucky stars that he was a bit impatient today.
As Tim sinks into the couch and curls into Bernard, the his brushing of Bernard's hair turns into his hand skimming to Bernard's neck.
Bernard had to stop himself to chuckling from the ticklish feeling, but he did let himself reply with a hum. Bernard reached and stuck the Tim's wandering hand on his neck and turned around.
"Hey"
"Hey, yourself."
And that's when Bernard felt it. Bernard knows that Tim's other hand was supposed to be comforting and distracting Bernard by brushing his hair, but the brush of his neck turned to a soft press. The distraction would have worked it if it weren't for the vulnerability of Tim's eyes, he would have missed it. The look in Tim's eyes, makes Bernard wrap his arms and legs around him.
"Are you okay?"
Bernard wants to laugh, of course Tim asks him as of he doesn't have the eyes of a veteran soldier that just relived through their personal hell.
"Yeah, are you okay?"
"Hmm, just stressing about the company."
Tim pulls away, as he does, his hand travels away from Bernard's neck and on to his face. He rubs little circles on Bernard's face. Tim smiles.
Bernard wants to cry.
#timbern#tim x bernard#bernard dowd#i am so tired#I just wanted to write like two or three sentences and then this happens#did not mean for it to end sad#dont worry they will have that happy breakfast date tomorrow
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Dinner & Diatribes
âi knew it from the first look of mischief in your eye.â
Summary: You both swiped right and suddenly you're standing in a stranger's kitchen while he makes you spaghetti.
Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Reader
Word Count: 5.2k
Authorâs Note: this might be the most self-indulgent fic i've ever written, so fair warning. also, thank you tom, who inspired this by saying that dinner & diatribes would be aegon's hozier song. it's just true. anyways, this was really fun to write.
Warnings: language, recreational drug use, alcohol use, fluff, intense sexual situations (including: oral sex - female receiving, sexual intercourse - p in v), just two single people who are horny, more fluff, aegon being so cute that i couldn't stop smiling the whole time i was writing this.
It was precisely 9:39 PM on a Tuesday.
You were sitting cross-legged on your couch, nose deep in a fresh murder mystery that you had been working through for the last two days. There was a lit joint between your fingers that you were nursing, taking little hits so that it wouldnât completely burn out, and on the cushion next to you, your phone softly vibrates and lights up; a familiar icon flashes across the screen and you can easily make out the words, âItâs a Matchâ from the corner of your eye.Â
Itâd been a regular occurrence since you had downloaded that accursed app.Â
Youâd been single for far too long, according to your best friend, though you hadnât really noticed. The sweet silence of a solitary life was something that you had enjoyed for the most part. It wasnât even like your online dating life had really taken off, either. Youâd get matches but hardly anyone would reach out in any way that made you feel like they were serious. They wanted your Snapchat username, or they were in an âopenâ relationship or asking for a threesome, and one guy even asked if you would send him pictures of your feet. Even some of the ones you thought were serious about taking you out- or even just hooking up- would end up ghosting you before anything actually happened.Â
âItâs not supposed to be serious,â you could hear your friendâs words rattling around in your brain. You shake your head and focus once again on your book; they have a suspect, itâs the best friend! How fitting.
Once again, your phone lights up and vibrates. Not wanting to be distracted from the plot, you ignore your new match and get back to your mystery with anticipation; the best friend is about to confess. You go to take another hit of your joint and frown upon realizing itâs burnt out. As you move to grab your lighter, in comes another message, and another, and another. You stop what youâre doing and pick up your phone, swiping at the screen until you find the culprit. Heâs known only as Aegon T, and according to the one sentence he has written on his profile, he has a dog. You swipe through his pictures- the dog is a golden retriever, the man looks like a golden retriever.Â
In the message thread, heâs basically talking to himself.Â
Thereâs four new messages waiting for you, while three little dots begin flashing at the bottom of the screen; disappearing and reappearing as you read what heâs already sent.Â
âSo, Iâm high.â
âAnd I am making spaghetti⌠and itâs really good.â
âAt least I hope itâs really good, it could just be the weedâŚâ
âI could use a taste-tester, if youâre up for it? I canât pay you or anything, but itâs honest work đâ
Aegon begins typing again and you watch the screen, a smirk on your lips. You are 99% sure that the spaghetti is truly an innuendo for what he really wants and have half a heart to just block him, but you watch as those little gray dots continue in the bottom left corner of the screen; heâs going back and forth with himself and you canât help but find it oddly cute. Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you contemplate a witty response, but before you can even begin typing, he sends a fifth message.Â
âThat was weird as fuck, right?â
Then a sixth.
âYou probably donât want to come over to some random guyâs house on a Tuesday.â
He finishes up with a seventh message.
âUnless you doâŚâ
He almost sends an apology. After all, what's another message? Heâs already fucked this whole thing up; not even giving himself a chance before he nose-dived. If he was being honest, he should just go ahead and delete his whole account; save you from secondhand embarrassment and save himself from repeating the same mistake again in the future. He sets the phone down on the kitchen counter and goes back to ripping bong hits to calm his nerves. Though, heâs unable to keep himself from checking his phone for a response; a response that likely wasnât going to come and heâd spend the rest of his night feeling like a complete idiot.Â
Seven back-to-back messages should have screamed âred flagâ, but youâre glancing at the clock as if you were seriously contemplating taking this stranger up on his offer. After all, you do have needs just as much as the next person. But, youâre wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of pajama shorts, your hairâs a mess, and you were covered in the crumbs of your munchie snacks. Meaning, you were nowhere close to being prepared for what was sure to happen between you and this random stoner offering you dinner.Â
Yet, you respond to him, âI could never turn down spaghettiâ.Â
Aegonâs stirring the sauce when he gets your message. Heâs instantly elated, thrusting a celebratory fist into the air. His fingers fly across the keyboard swiftly, sending another quick message, âAtta girl đ My place is on the corner of 9th and 51st, above Jasperâs.â
âBe there soon,â you reply with haste.Â
It was apartment #4 and you made sure to text your friend the address, and given name of your potential murderer, and also share your location for her to keep an eye out. She says all you have to do is text her at any time if you need her to call and bail you out with a fake emergency. All she asks in return is for you to have fun and let her know if you are planning on spending the night- which was an idea that you werenât opposed to, but it wasnât something you were planning on.Â
Youâre nervous as you stand outside of the door to his apartment, fist hovering for a moment. Nowâs the time to make a fast exit- you havenât met him, you could turn around right now and never meet him. You could wake up alive in the morning, safe in your own bed. Or, you can knock on the door and have what might be a really nice spaghetti dinner with a really nice guy. Hell, he could even be the love of your life and in fifty years youâll both look back on this day and laugh about how you met on Tinder and how you were stupid enough to go to his house and not a public place.Â
Finally, you knock.Â
Aegon puts the lid back on his spaghetti sauce and shuffles into the living room. Sunfyre is on the couch with his ears perked; his tailâs wagging and heâs panting eagerly, waiting patiently to meet this new visitor. Aegon whispers over to him, âwish me luck,â and thinks to himself, please donât be a catfish, please donât be a catfish, please donât be a catfish. He peers through the peephole when he approaches the door and there you are, a sigh of relief deflates his chest.Â
âOh, thank God,â you can hear him say as the door swings open. His accent is surprisingly British. âYouâre real.â
The very first thing that you notice are his eyes. Theyâre piercing; somehow blue and lavender at the same timeâ the color of a warm, summer sunrise and theyâre crinkling at the edges as he smiles. Heâs wearing a pair of dark gray sweats and a pale green hoodie, and the only word that comes to mind when you look at him is warmth. Heâs somehow more attractive in person than he is in the pictures on his profile, which you didnât think was possible, but heâs standing right in front of you and you canât help but think to yourself, he doesnât look like a murderer.Â
Then again, neither did Ted Bundy. Â
Aegon stands there for a moment, just staring at you, unable to do anything else. His words escape him, he can barely even breathe. You look exactly the same as your pictures; even without the makeup and even in the shitty, fluorescent overhead lights of the hallway. Even in a sweatshirt and pajama shorts, youâre stunning. Heâs having a hard time believing that you actually showed up and he doesnât realize that heâs been staring for much too long until you shrug back at him.Â
âDid you think I wasnât?â You ask with creased brows and a lopsided smile.
The corners of his lips pull upwards as he looks at you, âI donât know. Youâre just so beautiful, Iâm still not entirely convinced you arenât some sort of hologram⌠or a robot.âÂ
âWow, youâre pretty smooth,â you say with a playful smirk, desperately trying to keep your composureâ trying to play it cool, hoping that he hasnât caught on to the fact that youâre secretly spiraling, because it took all of one smile and one compliment and you were done for. âBut, Iâll have you know that flattery wonât work on me. Iâm here for the spaghetti and the spaghetti alone.âÂ
âMy apologies,â Aegon says with a chuckle as he holds his hands up defensively. âRight this way, then.âÂ
He steps to the side, allowing you to enter his apartment, and shuts the door behind you. Itâs nice, clean, smells like fresh baked bread and tomato sauce. Thereâs niche artwork adorning the walls, heâs got candles burning, and thereâs some lowkey, downtempo R&B playing softly in the background. He quickly moves past you and disappears into the kitchen, leaving you to follow him.Â
However, before you can take all of two steps into his apartment, a flash of golden fur is suddenly at your hip, pawing for attention. You drop down to a knee and happily accept any and all kisses from the pup. âOh! Hi, whatâs your name?â
Aegon sticks his head around the corner and says, âThat is Sunfyre. In case you were wonderinâ, heâs a very good judge of character and I will be consultinâ with him later where youâre concerned, fair warning.âÂ
You roll your eyes and scratch behind Sunfyreâs ears, his tail thumps in approval.Â
âWould you like something to drink?â He continues and disappears back into the kitchen. âIâve got wine and bottled water. Oh, and milk?â Thereâs a rustling in the kitchen before Aegon adds with a nervous chuckle, âscratch that, there is no milk.âÂ
You politely excuse yourself from Sunfyre and step into the small dining room off of the kitchen.Â
Thereâs a grin on your lips, which you pursed so that he doesnât think youâre laughing at him. Sunfyre joins the two of you and circles around his ownerâs legs as Aegon empties an almost full half-gallon of milk down the drain. His kitchen is small but looks to be well used, which you appreciate. You know almost nothing about this man, other than his name- if âAegonâ was even his real name- and the name of his dog, and yet here you were, standing in the threshold of his kitchen with a strange sense of comfortability as if you had been lifelong pals.Â
âWater is fine,â you tell him.Â
He produces a bottle of water from his fridge and tosses it over to you with ease and goes back to the stove. You step further into the kitchen, taking in your surroundings. The kitchen, like the living room, is covered in artwork and vintage decor- things youâd only find in some obscure thrift store or estate sale. On the refrigerator are a collection of magnets from different cities and countries, real touristy type shit. Some of them even had names on them; Alexander, Aaron, Alistair, Alan, Adolf.Â
Maybe these are the names of people heâs killed.Â
âYou travel a lot?â You ask, trying to keep the conversation going.
âI try to,â he says from over his shoulder as he continues to stir the sauce. You can hear him set the lid back on the pot. âMost of those are from my sister, Helaena. She thinks itâs hilarious to give me magnets with random âAâ names since youâll never find the name Aegon on any of those,â he says from behind you. Heâs leaning against the counter with a half glass of wine. You quirk an eyebrow at him, not fully convinced. âShe has a few from me that say Helen.â
âIs that her?â You ask, finger pointing to a pretty blonde in one of the many photographs he had pinned up.
He nods and takes a step closer to you. Heâs so close that you can feel his warmth, smell his aftershave. The proximity causes you to blush and he smirks in response, leaning over your shoulder as he points to the other people in the pictures. âThose two are my little brothers, Aemond and Daeron,â he claims and then points to two women. âThatâs my half-sister, Rhae, and next to her is my mother.â
âThe redhead?â You ask surprised, given she didnât look like she could be old enough to have four grown children. He nods and takes a step back, leaning against the counter with half-lidded eyes and a tipsy blush. âShe looks like she could be your sister,â you say softly, turning back to glance at all of the faces; he seemed proud of his family, like they were very close.Â
You turn away from the fridge and lean against the counter at his side. Itâs quiet for a moment, save for the music and the sound of boiling water where the noodles were cooking. You look at him and the corners of your lips canât help but twist up into a shy smile, but you bite at the inside of your cheek out of nervous habit. He props himself up on his elbows, taking a sip of his wine, clearly comfortable with the silence.Â
âSo,â you look up at him and his little smirk grows. âAbout the jobâŚâ
âAh, yes,â he nods. âAs I stated earlier, I wonât be able to pay you a monetary wage, but the position does come with a benefits package.â
âAnd what exactly would this benefits package include?â Thereâs an innocent flirtatiousness in your voice that only adds to the tension.Â
âOutside of the free gourmet meals that I would be providinâ to ya, which is obviously the most important part,â he smiles and steps to the side to grab a spoon from the drawer and holds it out to you. Your fingers softly close around his as you pluck the utensil from his grasp. He clears his throat to distract from the fact that he was visibly flustered from the slight touch. âThereâs also unlimited cuddle sessions,â before he can finish, you shoot him a look. âWith Sunfyre, of course! Heâs the real boss âround here, after all.âÂ
âCuddling with the boss?â You quirk an eyebrow and look down at the golden retriever, his eyes round and gleaming; clearly waiting for a hand-out. âSounds like a conflict of interest to me.â
âWell, if itâs a conflict of interest youâre worried about,â he counters quickly with a soft yet playful tone. âI sâpose we could renegotiate the terms of the agreement and you could have me instead.âÂ
âIâm listening.â
âHe might be better at cuddling for obvious reasons and he might be better lookinâ,â Aegon continues. âBut, I give better backrubs. I mean, I have thumbs and he donât. You canât give decent backrubs without thumbs, can you? Plus, heâs a sloppy kisser.âÂ
âOh, youâre really trying to sweeten the deal now, huh? Backrubs and kisses? I must admit, that is quite a compelling offer,â you muse. âIt seems my decision hinders on whether or not you can actually cook, wouldnât want to accept the position blindly, now would I?â
âAre ya doubtinâ my skills?â He asked playfully.Â
âNo offense, but you possess the aura of someone who could fuck up a can of Spaghettios,â you tell him with a sincere smile. âSo, forgive me if I don't get my hopes up.â
Aegon laughs and itâs a warm and infectious sound that fills the kitchen. Itâs genuine, as is his perfect smile. You canât seem to keep yourself from staring; eyes softly tracing every detail of his faceâ from his full, pink pout, to the scar above his right eyebrow, and the dimple of his chinâ thinking to yourself that youâve never seen a man more beautiful. His smile turns back into a smirk as he notices you staring at his lips and you look up to meet his eyes. Thereâs something about the way he looks at you that leaves you feeling vulnerable. His gaze softens as you look away, turning your attention back to the spaghetti sauce on the stove in front of you to distract yourself from the blush creeping up your neck.
Thereâs only one way this night ends.
It was obvious before you even left your house and it was certainly obvious now.Â
âGo on, then,â he prods, motioning to the pot on the stovetop.
His eyes are wide with anticipation as you dip into the simmering sauce, stirring it a few times before bringing the spoon to your lips. Heâs nervous; itâs his motherâs recipeâ one heâs spent years perfectingâ but with his luck, you will most likely think itâs steaming garbage. Yet, he watches intently; holding his breath as your perfect lips curl to blow softly, cooling the sauce before you finally taste it.Â
The moment the spoon touches your tongue, you're determined to remain impartial. After all, youâve had your fair share of disappointing meals from men whoâve claimed to be great cooks. Aegon certainly could be the very latest and you wouldnât be at all surprised. So, you keep your expectations low, and try your hardest to remain stoic, but as the flavors begin to unfold, you can feel your resolve wavering.Â
Itâs good. Better than most.Â
Reluctantly, you have to admit that this is the second-best sauce youâve ever had, right after your grandmotherâs. You glance up at Aegon, whoâs watching you with a mix of anxiety and hope, and you canât help but smile.Â
âI have to give it to you,â you say, your voice betraying a hint of admiration. âThis is incredible. Almost as good as my grandmotherâs.â
The relief and pride that spread across his face makes your heart flutter.Â
âYeah?â He asks with a toothy grin.Â
âIâm still not completely convinced that you can actually cook, but you canâ at the very leastâ make some top-notch spaghetti sauce,â you tell him as you place your spoon to the side.Â
âTop-notch, eh?â He asks playfully as he begins plating your meal. âIâll take it.âÂ
âDonât let it get to your head,â you say to him with a laugh. âItâs just spaghetti sauce.âÂ
âJust spaghetti sauce? Donât let my mum hear you say that,â he says with a smirk, setting a full plate in front of you on the counter. âI guess Iâll just have to work extra hard on the next one.â
âAssuming there will be a next one,â you reply, tone dripping with playful sarcasm. âThough, you have set the bar pretty high tonight. Iâm sure youâll be fine.â
âWell,â he murmurs as he steps closer, his body brushing against yours as he reaches around you to grab a plate. His lips are hovering above the shell of your ear, his voice low and teasing, causing your cheeks to immediately flush as the heat between the two of you intensifies. âIâm nothing if not a perfectionist.â
For a split second you expect for him to lean in for a kiss. Your heart is simultaneously skipping beats and racing at the same time; your breath catching in your throat as he leans inâ But then he smirks, grabbing the plate and taking a step backwards. Heâs doing it on purpose, you realize; his proximity expertly calculated to keep you on edge. You look up at him with wide, sparkling eyes and he knows heâs got you right where he wants you. The soft blush of your cheeks has his blood pumping and sends a surge of adrenaline through him. Heâs trying his absolute best to play it cool but the way youâre biting your lip and looking at him has him unraveling.
âIs that so?â You ask, raising an eyebrow. âWhat other skills do you have up your sleeve?â
His grin widens as he looks down at you, setting his empty plate to the side. His gaze, once again, drops to your lips. âI have a few tricks,â he says softly, his voice filled with promise. âBut I doubt youâd believe me if I told you, so how about I just show you?âÂ
âWhat?â You ask with a playful innocence. âBefore dinner?â
âIâm not really in the mood for spaghetti anymore.âÂ
âOh?â Your smirk is only growing. âWhat are you in the mood for?â
Aegon says nothing, but a confident grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he rests his hands on your hips. He doesnât hesitate to pull you in by the waist, until youâre pressed against him and his lips are on yours. The kiss is both gentle and urgent and a little bit awkward, as any first kiss should be. You felt like a teenager again, kissing a boy for the first timeâ butterflies in your stomach and all.
It takes no time at all for you to find your rhythm with him, and he deepens the kiss, pushing you up onto the kitchen counter to meet his height. Your arms naturally drape across his shoulders, your legs wrap around his middle. Heâs completely taken over your mind, filling up every tiny space that he can fit into; the smell of his cologne, the scratch of his stubble against your skin, the feeling of his hands squeezing the flesh of your thighsâ his fingertips teasing just underneath the hem of your shorts.Â
Breathless, he pulls away from you as he pulls your sweatshirt over your head. He stops for a moment to take in the sight of you; clad only in your bra and shorts, lips red and blotchy, swollen and full. Youâre looking up at him from under your lashes, softly biting your bottom lip as you wait for him to continue. He gently lifts his hand up to your cheek and traces the curve of your cupidâs bow with his thumb, providing one last show of tenderness before he leans in to capture your lips in another searing kiss.Â
His touch is suddenly rushed; spreading a wildfire across your skin in the wake of his lips as he rips off the remainder of your clothes. It doesnât take long at all before youâre sitting exposed on his kitchen counter in only a thong, blushing wildly and covering your face with your hands.Â
âNoâ no hiding,â he clicks his tongue and pulls your hands away from your face. âI want to see you.â
He whispers a string of profanities and compliments as his starving eyes roam your figure. Self-doubt creeps into your mind and you momentarily consider making a quick exit, convinced he wonât like what he sees, but the way heâs looking at you makes you feel desired in a way you havenât felt in a long time.Â
Aegonâs gaze is electrifying and intense, drawing you in and silencing your negative thoughts instantly. His hands pull you in by the waist, sliding you to the edge of the counter as his lips work their way down your chin and neck; leaving a trail of red marks down to your chest. He hums, smirking as he takes one of your breasts in his mouth. His hand kneads the other, rolling your hardened nipple between two fingers. Your head falls back, lips parted slightly as you breathe out his name.Â
Each sound he elicits from you urges him on even further until heâs on one knee, looking up at you from his position with those pretty eyes. He runs a hand up the back of your calf, softly teasing you with his fingertips before tossing your leg over his shoulder. You knew where he was going, and yet, you were still surprised as he began placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs; shivering in anticipation as goosebumps formed on your skin.Â
âYouâre so wet,â he says proudly, praising you.Â
His eyes are locked with yours as his fingers delicately smooth over your clothed clit. He hooks a finger around the dampened cotton and pulls your thong to the side, groaning at the sight of your perfect pussy. Without wasting another second, Aegonâs mouth is suddenly on you and your hands immediately find the back of his head; fingers curling into the roots of his silver hair.Â
You roll your hips against his tongue, cursing out as your legs begin to shake. He moans, face still buried deep in you and the vibrations have you writhing. Both of his arms are wrapped around your thighs now, holding you tight to him, not letting up for even a second. Then he stands, lifting you up onto his shoulders. You squeal in shock, holding onto him tightly, but he doesnât stop; he continues to devour you as he blindly carries you towards his bedroom.Â
When his knees hit the side of his bed, he tosses you back onto the mattress.Â
You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he strips out of his clothes. . You can see the outline of his arousal; prominent and pressing firmly against the fabric of his sweats. You bite your lip at the sight and he smirks as he catches your stare. His movements are unhurried, giving you ample time to appreciate the sight before you. His hoodie and shirt come off first, then his sweats, and you canât help but notice the way that his muscles flex with each motion. Heâs not overly built, but thereâs a solid strength in his frame that is evident in the way he moves.
Outside, headlights from passing cars cast streaks of light and shadows across the walls of his room. Itâs quiet, the music in the other room has stopped playing and all you can hear is the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. You swallow thickly, encompassed by the tension of the moment as he crawls up the length of your body; placing tender kisses along your skin. His lips leave a trail of warmth, each touch igniting a spark that travels through your entire body.
When he reaches your face, he pauses, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches away. The anticipation builds, thick and electric in the air between you. His lips find yours in a kiss that starts slow and tender but quickly deepens; fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you closer, his body pressing yours deeper into the plush mattress. Your hands explore his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling the tension and strength beneath his skin and coming to rest on his shoulders; gripping tightly as he continues to worship your body with his mouth. Each kiss, each touch, is deliberate, heightening your senses and pulling you further into the moment.
You curse at the feeling of his girth against your entrance. Your hand moves up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips as he presses slowly into you.Â
âOh fuck,â he whimpers into the crook of your neck as his arms become weak.Â
He knows that he wonât last like this; itâs been a while and you feel way too good. Heâs slow at first, wanting to steady himself and maintain control, but his rhythm picks up quickly; hips moving with an unrelenting rhythm, each thrust bringing you both closer to the edge. You can feel his muscles tense, his grip on you tightening as he buries his face in your neck. His moans are a mix of pleasure and desperation, and you can tell heâs fighting to hold back.
You tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling the overwhelming need to reach that peak together. His pace quickens, the tension in his body building to a breaking point. You feel the same pressure inside of you mounting before itâs suddenly crashing over you like a wave. He follows seconds later, a low groan escaping his lips as he spills into you. The intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless and clinging to each other, bathing in the afterglow.Â
âThat was incredible,â he murmurs against your skin, head pressed to your chest as you stroke his hair softly. His eyes flutter shut as he listens to the sounds of your heartbeat.Â
You hum in agreement, smiling to yourself as you savor the peacefulness of the moment.Â
Suddenly, youâre joined by Sunfyre jumping up on the bed, his tail wagging enthusiastically. You smile at him and pat the empty space next to you, inviting him to join your cuddle session. He eagerly accepts the invitation, circling the bed a few times before snuggling up next to you. Aegon lifts his head and smiles, clearly pleased that you would be so open to having the dog in bed with you. He wraps his arm around both you and Sunfyre, pulling you closer.Â
âThis is perfect,â he says softly, his voice filled with contentment as he lays his head back on your chest.Â
"So, about that job offer," you say playfully, your fingers tracing patterns along his skin. "I think I'll accept the position. When would you like for me to start?"
He lifts his head to look at you, a playful glint in his eyes. âHow about tomorrow night at seven?â
Before you can respond, a distinct burning smell reaches your nose. Your brows furrow as you sniff the air. âDo you smell that?â
Aegonâs eyes widen in realization. âThe spaghetti!âÂ
He jumps up from the bed, pulling on his clothes quickly, and scrambles into the kitchen. You follow behind him, tossing one of his t-shirts over your head and meet him in the kitchen.Â
âI guess I forgot to turn off the burner,â Aegon looks disappointed but then chuckles, shaking his head. He looks at you with a glint in his eye and smirks. âOccupational hazard, I guess.â
âOh, that sucks!â You laugh, playfully nudging him. âIs it too late to back out of the job now?â
âWay too late for that,â he says as he pulls you into a soft kiss, silencing any doubts immediately. âYouâre mine now.âÂ
âMm,â you hum against his lips. âBut I came here for the spaghetti.â
He chuckles and pulls back slightly. âWill you settle for pizza?â
âIâll settle for anything, as long as itâs with you,â you say with a smile as you wrap your arms around his waist. âAnd as long as thereâs extra cheese!â
#here have this a little early#lonely loser stoner baby boy ilysm#writing this made me so happy so i hope reading it has the same effect on you#aegon targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#modern aegon targaryen#modern aegon#modern aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen x you#aegon targaryen smut#aegon targaryen ii#aegon targaryen imagine#aegon targaryen x y/n#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen x you#aegon ii targaryen x y/n#aegon ii targaryen smut#aegon ii targaryen imagine#aegon x reader#aegon x you#aegon x y/n#aegon ii x reader#aegon ii x you#aegon ii x y/n
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âsignificanceâ j. sunderland x reader
minors dni
cw: light face slapping, light scent kink, sub/top j. sunderland x dom/bottom reader, oral, breath play if you squint, breeding kink, light spit play, dry humping. no depictions of specific characterizations in regards to the readerâs looks. reader has she/her pronouns.
summary: what happens when two deprived people meet by accident? a server and that odd man whoâd always come to drink coffee every morning at 6am. from awkward conversation to a dinner that turned into rough, needy indulgence. it was easy, a deprived little thing like him⌠it was just too significant.
a/n: this is years after the events of shâ no mentioning of the events either. forgive me if this is all over the place⌠itâs definitely a long one. i kind of went wild while writing this one. thereâs more smut than there is plot but nonetheless⌠i hope you enjoy my very first james sunderland fic.
there he goes again⌠that odd man⌠in the same spot heâd always sit in. the farthest table by the window with no one to accompany him besides himself.
james⌠that was his name. james sunderland.
he was kind enough to tell you this after the tenth time heâd come in. you didnât have to ask or even tell him your own name⌠mostly because you didnât know how to approach that level of conversation. you were just a serverâ giving the customers phony smiles, a âhi, how can i help you today?â and the fakest kind of enthusiasm when any other would try to offer a joke out of curtesy.
yet something about him⌠his somber eyesâ with light wash of rosy pink coloring the bags underneath themâ that looked as if he was deep in thought⌠as if he were to be troubled by something⌠or someone from his past⌠the short stubble that grazed over his chin and upper lip, and his body language that seemed as if he never wanted to be bothered or probably never slept. his gaze always wandered around the diner, out the window or at the soft ripples within the mug heâd hold. sometimes⌠you found him staring at you, nervously looking away whenever your eyes connected. you never understood why though or what he could be thinking each time he looked at you, so you never asked or gave it much question.
james was just a stranger who came at the same time, almost every single dayâ six in the morning, as the sky still glowed its grey huesâ not a minute early. not a minute late. the bell from the dinerâs door ringing loud and brash with the thick of his boots stepping on every creaking, rotten floor board.
each time heâd come, youâd watch him to see if heâd do anything different. maybe heâd add in a sugar packet⌠two or three⌠or maybe heâd get a breakfast sandwich like mr.colemen always didâ the trucker who you knew had a wife but still flirted with the older cook, ms.miles on tuesdaysâ or maybe heâd bring in someone he knew to occupy his time⌠he didnât. it was the same each time. heâd arrive, ask for seating and sitâ not wanting anything else but his coffeeâ black. no sugar. no cream, just like he liked it he said. heâd watch the steam from his cup vanish until it ran cold then take his sips that felt like a lifetime in between each one.
you couldnât lie⌠you were fairly intrigued by him⌠it wasnât as if you hadnât had regulars come in just as much he does, if not more, but something about him seemed different⌠the expression he always wore⌠he always seemed so lost in thought yet⌠so attentive in his surroundings. something in you wanted to know who he was.
each time you gave him a cup of his favorite black coffee, you couldnât help yourself but try to formulate conversation after he gave out his name⌠but he was always just so fucking vague⌠each sentence he spoke was watered downâ that trickled slow like shallow water⌠simplistic and dry, running in a soothing hum.
it was pretty. the way he spoke.
you told him that too. a gentle, âyou have a nice voiceâ after he sung a sweet âthank youâ after setting the coffee down in front of his hands. he was awkward about it, like he hadnât received a compliment like this one or a compliment at all. no words given other than that, having the conversation run flat and you walking away in regret thinking, âmaybe that was too muchâ.
it only took one day when you had been off shift to see him sitting at a park bench, the one at the end of the town with his hands in his pockets, back slouched and those same somber eyes staring into the parkâs pound to finally sit next to him and not feel the dynamic imbalance hit you like how it did in the diner.
âjames!â your breath creating its soft clouds within the cold air as you softly spoke, vanishing as it rose.
âah!â he hummed, âfunny to see you here.â he looked at you⌠the blonde strands flowing against the wind, his attention fully on you instead of him quickly trying to look away. it was direct, like he stared from within your body⌠you didnât expect a person like him to have such good eye contact⌠it almost made you nervous.
âno coffee today?â you replied, offering a smile.
âafraid not. im just on my lunch break⌠needed some fresh air.â
âmay i ask where you work? hope thatâs not improper of me to ask.â you laughed quietly, taking a real good look at him. he was almost like a statue⌠a rugged one. his lack of fashion senseâŚand his ability to hold so much expression all the while it being so bland and so cold.
he chuckled, shaking his head as he turned his head back towards the pond, âno⌠no itâs not âimproperâ. itâs just an office job. pretty boring id say.â
âfitting.â you replied, ânot that youâre boring! just⌠seems like a occupation youâd have is all.â
âi wouldnât say that youâre wrong even if you did say that.â giving yet another humming chuckle.
you stayed for the time he had to spare. the conversation going just as you thought it would⌠awkward but he was sweet nonetheless. though it was the way it was, his words flowed with every sentence he spoke, like the gentle stream of the pond in front of you both or the thick clouds that scattered in the grey sky. it took you just a few moments to notice how pretty that man was. he exuded such odd comfort⌠and warmth that made you want to keep talking to him. listen to anything he said even if it meant nothing or sounded humorously stupid.
âwell.â he sighed, grunting as he stood, âid love to keep⌠talking, but i have to go back.â
you nodded, exchanging your goodbyes as you watched him walk down the parkâs path until his body disappeared in the distance.
and so, from then on it had been easier to talk to him. finding any way to get to know more about the odd man who only drank black coffee and stared at you from time to time. it started just at your workplace, quick and steady back and forth talk then at the park, then offering a time to spend together on your off day for breakfast.
that was the first time he had something other than coffee. it was the first time you saw him smile more than once⌠not a faint one⌠a real oneâ seeing how his teeth jumbled at the bottom of his mouth or the harsh smile lines appear by the sides of his lips.
the more you looked, the more you conjured how pathetic of a man james really was. his life seemed so dull⌠just like the springs occasional showers and faded blue skies⌠but he was like the sweetness of juneâ the warmth within this man was little to none but still, he captivated you with his odd charm even if he tried or didnât. you couldnât help yourself but to think it was so easy to get him flustered, to have him smile whenever you showed interest in whatever he spoke about⌠like a lost puppy who finally got attention after being alone for so long.
a slip of a compliment flowed in almost every other sentence, seeing him stutter in his words, choking up a thank you whenever he could. it was amusing⌠like an addiction. sewing your way into his life was oh so significant. he considered you a âfriendâ to put it lightly, one who obviously stared at you whenever you werenât looking: like at the pier. you stood in front of him, hearing the crows sing and the water waves crash against the woodâ heâd eye down your frame, seeing the way your clothes hugged your form⌠dissociating the worldâs music around you both with an open mouth and twiddling fingers.
each time, you acted as if you hadnât noticed and maybe you were just that good for him to not pick up on it whenever you failed to mention or question why heâd stare so goddamn much. it didnât matter anyway, you liked it just as much as he liked staring at you.
heâd sit stiff, noting how erect his back would be whenever you placed your hand on his shoulder, a soft grip given as you both spoke about whatever. heâd clear his throat whenever you stood a little too close to him, rubbing the tapered part of his hair on the back of his head with a line of âuhâ and âumsâ in between each word he spoke.
god⌠this man was just so pathetic.
âwhy donât we have dinner?â you smiled as you turned towards him, the bustling chatter amongst the passing people as you both walked down the same park you and him had your first real conversation.
âoh.â he chirped, a quiet laugh intertwined in his speech, âsure. where?â
âmy house.â you answered confidently. through the few months of you being his âfriendâ, it only seemed right, so you told him. you wanted him in a place of vulnerability. to rule out every other being thatâd pass by or surround you while in public. you just wanted it to be you and him. him and you. âif thatâs fine by you. im not too bad of a cook.â
âyour house?â his voice fell flat but it was nothing that worried you. the ring of his monotone voice was thick and with how he reacted to your small gestures, you knew he was more than willing to oblige. âyou donât mind me⌠coming to your house?â
you gave a little nod and he gave a gentle smirk. james didnât know what could happen once the dinner would happen but he had no reason to disagree⌠or even want to. he grew accustomed to your company, more than any coworker he had that tried to gather him for night drinks after tough shifts⌠or even the women who were so abrupt in their interest in him⌠the thin pencil skirts and revealing blazers. he didnât care.
a date was given. four days from then after his early ending shift. and so time flew. he hadnât come to the diner at six in the morning like he did, he wasnât even at the spots heâd sit during his breaks from work. a part of you had been worried if he tried to avoid you, wondering why you havenât seen him since your request. he wasnât good at textingâ sending him a âhiâ would only result to him replying a âheyâ three days later. you almost didnât buy the groceries you needed to prepare or an outfit that wasnât too much but definitely would grasp his attention.
luckily you did.
it had been the day and it was five in the afternoon, the sun setting itself and the wind blowing more rapidly, flowing with the nightâs usual atmosphere. james stood at your door with the address you gave him not too long after he agreed for the dinner you proposed. he just stared at itâs wood, his heart racing without his mind fully understanding why. he was a grown man but too afraid to see your face until this very moment. so heâd stay in the house longer than he needed to without going to the diner in the mornings. heâd stay in his cubicle on his lunch break, finishing any extra assignments he needed done for his boss.
moments spent with his feet planted on the ground before he gave three knocks at your door. he waited, only for a minute before you opened the door. you were dressed so nicely opposed to his work outfit still on and the light fragrance of the food fumigating in the air, hitting his nose.
âyouâre here.â you spoke, relieved that he hadnât stood you up. âcome in.â
and so he did. small talk was given, complimenting your abode and trinkets you had scattered all about, admiring the personality your home gave opposed to his apartment that was just there⌠only the essentials, almost soulless. you thanked him of course, going on about little things as he listened before you finished all that needed to be done for dinnerâ it was pasta. simple and easy to not fuck up.
two plates placed with wine in crystal glasses and forks being spun. you connected over the flavor of the sauce and the warmth of the garlic bread that complimented the pasta. everything went smoothly, more than you thought it wouldâve. easy conversation with the add in of knowing more about who james was⌠though he was his usual vague self.
you couldnât pinpoint why he had been or what was truly on his mind. in certain instances, heâd drift off, his eyes wavering with a slow chew before ending his sentence with something mundane. your curiosity kept prodding with each question you gaveâ he didnât show feeling of intrusion but he wrapped around certain topics leaving you needing more to be answered.
it felt like twenty one questions⌠moreso⌠him answering yours than you were with his but his composure and hospitality hadnât changed from his kind and awkward demeanor heâd always give. it took awhile before you realized you had been digging in his chest like a crow on a rotting corpse before you covered your mouth with a soft, inaudible gasp.
âive been blabberingâŚâ you say, shyly laughing as you continued the last of what was left on your plate.
âno.â he responded, his voice trickling like soothing raindrops against a windowsill, âyouâre just curious.â
âthat i am.â your eyebrows raising as you sipped the bitter red liquid of your wine, âbut youâve had enough.â
he shook his head, wiping his mouth with a nearby napkin as he gulped, âi enjoy the conversation. i just have a lot in my past im not too fond of is all.â you noticed his eyes again⌠that troublesome look⌠the blank stare. whatever happened seemed to had never left him. james was like a puzzle piece⌠all scattered⌠some pieces missing so the full picture could never be seen or even admired.
âdonât we allâŚâ pursing your lips as you set your glass down, ââŚbut thatâs the beauty of life, yes? itâs shitty⌠things come and go. regret⌠wrapped in solace. but that only means you can make happier memories.â trying to be positive to remove anything he had stored in thought.
you saw his shoulders relax from its usual tension, his eyes finding their way towards yours with a thick silence being transferred between you two. âyeah.â he spoke, breaking the silence momentarily before it fell back. the white noise⌠the gentle buzz cradled your eardrums, sitting like a stone in both of your seats.
the contact between your eyes spoke a million words⌠ones that havenât been spoken out loudâ it was of interest, undeniable lust. from his constant gaze from when you once were strangers⌠his usual order of coffee, to the moments you spent together in numerous places to now. those pretty light eyes shook as they bounced from each part of what your body showed at the table. they were quick⌠hungry⌠without any hesitancy. he dared not to look away, enjoying the visual of your being in a place with no one around, just you both.
as for you⌠the feeling of his eyes felt like fire caressing your skin⌠as if his wherever his pupils directed themselves, you could feel. it felt like fingertips gliding underneath the fabric of your clothes⌠just as when he ate⌠the way his lips latched onto the silver of his forkâ the unintentional sensual gesture as he slid it from his mouth and chewed. the coat of spit that was left across it, and the delicate way he held onto the spine of the wine glass. you wanted to replace the flavor of your homemade sauce with the flower of your labia⌠to feel the latch of his lips against your breast or on the sides of your neck. the way he ate gave you an intense feeling of need⌠greed⌠swelling indulgence. not to mention his goddamn voice⌠the voice you were already so found overâ the subtle cracks and dips between certain vowels⌠how deep it was⌠how gentle it felt amongst the silence.
âjames..?â you questioned, tilting your head slightly, almost in a trance by the tone of your voice.
he gulped roughly, already sensing whatever you were going to say by the look you gave. âyes?â
âmay i kiss you?â the words flowing softly within a sigh, holding your breath as you waited for his answer.
he just stared at you, eyes blinking like a cat in comfort as he continued to stare. moments past⌠which felt like hours before he nodded.
you stood from your seat, his attentiveness not failing to follow you in whichever way you went, slowly walking towards him with your hand sliding against the rough stubble on his face. he exhaled through his nose, his eyes shutting closed, his body melting into your touch as if he longed for such embrace. he hummed⌠the vibration flickering against the tips of your fingers before you felt the warm air of his exhale against your lips. slowly you leaned, shaky breaths with a soft press of the lips.
his lips were so soft yet stiff, a long press, occupying the other side of his face with yet another hand, pulling his face closer to yours as you deepened it. james let you lead, his rough calloused hand grazing against your wrist with a gentle grip, simultaneously pulling you closer to his embrace.
at the touch of his lips, you felt yourself get jolted with pleasure in between your legs, the softness rushing to a hungered oneâ his lips opening, allowing your tongue to push through and taste the sweetness of his of spit. his mouth was warm and the muscle of his tongue slid into yours as spit started to slide down his chin⌠quickening breaths and an even louder hum than he ever gave.
with the sharp sound of the chair scraping against the floorboards, he scooted back, you unconsciously sitting onto his lap just to feel the growing bulge against his work pants. you sat right on it, feeling it press against your clothed cunt with a groan that wrapped around your tongue and down your throat. he felt big, and the throb of it excited you, having your hips think on its own with a heavy yet slow rut.
the hands that held onto your wrist fell at your hips, the tightness of his fingers digging into you as if heâd never want you to leave from his touch. your bodies molded into one, your breasts pressing against his heaving chest with your hands now gripping the back of his neck.
at release, your forehead pressed against his⌠his deep gasps sounding pathetic and irregular, lips ajar, trying to savor the feeling of your lips that were once on his. the creek of the chair upon your slow grinds were loud and obnoxious but that didnât stop you from adding on more friction, loving the feeling of his hardening cock against you.
âlet me⌠do what i want to you⌠let me make you feel good.â you whispered against his lips, feeling your words being sucked from his quickening gasps.
âplease.â he whined⌠a sound youâd never heard before from a man, let alone one of business. his willingness in the subtle acceptance of him submitting to you had your mind fill with haze. the glisten of his eyes pleaded for something⌠anything⌠like he had never been touched before. âpleaseâŚâ
his face leaned in the crook of your neck, his nose nudging against the warmth of your skin, sharp inhales, devouring the perfume that coated it. light peppering kisses lining up and down, all along the side of your jaw. a smile crept up on your lips⌠you knew just from the sight of him that he was just a pathetic little thing. and with the way he acted just from a kiss⌠how hard he got with you sitting on his lap, you knew that whatever you did heâd grant you a reaction that would be better than any man has ever gave you or will give you.
you gripped the back of his head, a drunken stare as his lips still purse from the abrupt release of his kiss. âwait.â you breathed, pressing your finger in the center of his lips. he was so tantalizing⌠his eyes drooped with anticipation, knowing that since he has you now⌠his self control was little to none.
at the side of you finger, he kissed it, holding onto your wrist as you placed another finger against his lips. you watched and he watched youâ his mouth slowly opening and guiding his fingers against his tongue. with hallowed cheeks he began to suck, bobbing his cute head down to the knuckle. curling your fingers, you felt his tongue slither in between, spit messily sliding down your palm and arm.
âgood boy..â you praised, your voice in sync with the sounds of his sucksâ a deeper whine trembling against your fingers at the sudden pet name.
you grinned, cocking an eyebrow at his reaction. he liked that? you thought. seems fitting.
sliding your fingers from his mouth, you gripped his chin, a gentle press given, âwatch me.â you whisper and with a pull at your top, he watched. his eyes directing themselves at your breasts with an even quicker and excited exhale exuding from his whining lips. eyebrows furrowing at the need to touch, his hands hesitantly removing from your hips and curling, waiting for the okay to be able to grope them upon your request. unclasping your bra, they drooped prettily in his face, letting whatever you took off hit the floor beside the chair.
âcome on pretty boy⌠touch them.â you slurred, your voice seductive, teasing him, watching how his eyes never left, just opening at the sight of your bare breasts. âi know you want to.â
he sighed, one that was pent up and riddled with eagerness. âoh my godâŚâ his voice shook. james was driven by the lustrous nature of your body. captivating by the sounds that fell from your lips and the commands you spewedâ each word directed itself at his cock, feeling it twitch and tighten at his pants. the way you were entranced by his eyes as he was with yours, looking up at them with admiration, need and desire that festered throughout his body, making him burn at the touch.
doe and gentle with a sweet song flowing in the disguise of a moan he sung. the single free strands laying against his skin, complimenting with the reds that blossomed at his cheeks.
âi want her⌠i need her⌠all of her⌠i want it. i want it. i want it. i want it.â he chanted in his brainâ feeling as if he was going to pass out at how hard he was breathingâ his hot mouth curling at the warm bud of your breast, tongue flicking at itâs hardened tip, pulling back with the gentle graze of his teeth until a pop was heard, pressing a series of kisses around your breasts.
you were drunk off the man. that poor pathetic odd man. his body calling for more⌠groping your breasts with vigor, feeling the shortness of his nails digging and molding them to his liking⌠and the little broken noises he made, so soft and sweet, higher than his usual tone. a fleeting glint of mischief glistened in your eyes, letting out a chuckle.
âthatâs itâŚâ your voice trailed, lifting your hips, starting to bounce on his lap, granting a broken moan to feather against your nipple.
âgod⌠fucking dammit..â he exhaled, gritting his teeth as his body sunk into the chair, his feet planted harsher on the floorboards, bucking his hips upward, feeling the weight of you created more friction, his swelling cock pulsating. âdonât stop⌠please.â he whined, eyes squinted as drool fell from the side of his trembling lips.
your hands running in his warm blonde strands, âthatâs a good boy.â you tightened your gasp, pulling it with a yank. he blinked slowly with a coo, âyou like it when i bounce on it?â you teased.
he nods. his poor hips already tiring out, them stuttering at every upwards thrust. âyes maâam⌠fuck it feels⌠it feels so good.â
planting your hands at his chest, you felt the fast pace of his heart, running your palms up his body until your fingers wrapped around his slender neckâ each digit falling into his skin, hearing his strain. âpoor baby⌠you wanna feel more donât you?â you grunted, his head tilted back with your face hovering his. with a slight cock of your hand, it collided with the softness of his cheek, a loud yelping moan bouncing along the dining room walls.
âfu⌠fuckâŚâ he stuttered, his lips almost at pout.
no woman had ever treated him this way, so rough and teasing and you hadnât even fucked him yet. his nerves was heightened as his cheek burned with the faint remnants of your palm. never did he think heâd enjoy something like this, in fact⌠he was left speechless. the sight of his eyes looking more pleasing than they already looked. they never looked away from you, wanting to get every expression you gave⌠watching your lips as they continued to taunt him, needing to see the way your breasts bounced as you continued to rut against his lap above his pants.
âoh?â you chirped, noticing the deepening submission in his glare. âyou liked that didnât you?â your hips now stopping in its place.
weakly, he laughed, âi do.â his voice still so sultry and deep.
leaning closer to his face, your lips feathered his, exchanging breaths with shared smiles, âgo on your knees and take it out for me.â your other hand sliding down slow until it cupped his bulge. removing yourself from his lap, now standing.
he lifted himself off the chair, taking off his bottoms and boxers. there he sat, like an obedient little thing, on his kneesâ his thick dick laying and jerking at every throb as it laid so delicately against his thighâ staring up at you adoringly with gleaming eyes, as if he had been admiring a star.
it wasnât as if you necessarily thought about what he looked like underneath his boxers, but the sight of it made your eyes sparkleâ it was so thick and long, it made your mouth water.
âjamesâŚâ shocked and even more turned on at how pretty his dick was. the light graze of his brown pubes looking well kept. âfuck itâs so pretty.â running your finger down its side, hearing the most pathetic moan fall from his lipsâ his fists balling at the sudden touch. âneedy little thing you are.â
it was cute. from the little slap you gave him and the way he wanted you to have your way, it only fed into the desire to treat this boy with some excitement. that dull life he had was now changed as thoughts puddled at your brain seeing this man look so weak as you stood to look at him.
âsuch a pathetic⌠pretty man.â you cooed, tilting your head, âand look at your dick.â his eyes dropping to watch it leak and pool at the flesh of his thigh. âitâs excited for me isnât it?â
his fingers wrapping around his shaft, needing some type of friction⌠it was starting to get painful with how long it hadnât been touched bare. whenever he was turned on in the comfort of his home, heâd jerk himself off until he fell asleep. over and over again until his wrist burned and his throat dried. he had no self control and with you around, he could cum just from your voice.
âtake your hand off.â
âgod i justâŚâ he whimpered.
âmmh mmh.â your head shook, as you bent down, âhands off. i tell you when you can and canât, do you understand?â placing your finger underneath his chin to raise it, seeing gentle plea in his eyes.
âyes maâam.â
he felt belittled, unable to control his own person. a quick shiver fell down his spine, leaning closer into your embrace⌠just the soft touch of your finger gave him a bolt of pleasure. knowing if he touched himself, youâd slap him in retaliation. oh how he so desperately wanted that.
you unzipped your pants, stepping out from them, alongside your panties, already dripping against the inner of your thigh. placing a palm at the top of his head, your fingers gripped tight, angling yourself in front of his face.
he gulped roughly, staring at the swelling of your clit. âlick it.â without hesitation, his face fell in between your legs, his curved nose nudging against your clit as he inhaled, lapping his tongue in between the folds of your pussy.
the scent of it drove him wildâ eyes rolling back as he continued to inhale, loud enough for you to hear. he smothered himself, the muscle of his tongue thickening with his lips latching it just to get the taste of you fully.
you were taken aback at how skilled his tongue was, how his nose stimulated your clit so lovingly with each bob of his head. obnoxious sucks radiated in the air with his fingers clasping against your thighs, hard enough to hurt.
moans trickled from your throat, gasping on the thick of the air, guiding him with the hand that gripped his hair. his tongue plunged deeply into your pussy, feeling his mold his muscle inside of your fleshy walls, thrusting his head to fuck your opening.
you felt yourself already needing to cum and that has never happened before. at least not this quick. the softness of his lips sucked so roughly and his tongue flicked so fast, your knees buckled inward, unable to keep up with the pace of his mouth.
âjamesâŚâ your moans heightening in volume, your chest deepening after every breath you took, âyour fucking mouthâŚâ
his hair, all tattered and messy, with his eyes reddened from it almost tearing up because of the lack of air he was given, not stopping for a second as he drank in your arousal and your moans. a tingling sensation bounced off his body, circling through each part of his limbs.
the sounds of his sucks almost overpowering your moans itself, as he felt your meaty pussy flutter in and out his mouth loving how full you made his mouth.
âi canât stop,â he gasped against your cunt, âitâs just so good⌠i love it, i fucking love it. fuck⌠fuckâŚâ nothing in this manâs brain could made him stop. it was like he pushed himself in between your legs like he wanted to be apart of youâ keeping his strength in his neck to keep his same motion.
removing himself to breathe, he gathered spit, directing at your clit and watching it drip before catching it in his mouth, rolling his tongue along the hood of your clit before latching on with hallowing cheeks. sucking in air, your body curled forward, feeling two of his fingers slide in the opening of your pussy. they curved as they started with long strides.
that âoddâ man surely knew how to please a cunt. fingers picking up its pace with the loud wet sounds interweaving the moans you both sung. âyes⌠yes⌠jamesâŚâ you panted, his wrist steadying, feeling you leak against and down his knuckles. your walls clamping on his fingers like a heartbeat.
âim gonna..â you announced, your body trembling more than you could even control, your legs giving out with him quickly holding you up as much as he couldâ his face deepening in your cunt, grunting as he felt you cum against his tongue.
âmmmhmâ he hummed over and over again, feeling you shudder against his face.
falling to your knees, your face was angled with hisâ his mouth wet all from his nose down to his chin. the sight of you, trying to compose yourself from the orgasm you had made him feel dizzy. âfeel good?â he whispered, trailing your face from where it hung low, catching your lips. you could taste yourself on his lips, running your tongue at the flesh of his bottom, sucking it in your mouth with small nips before pulling back.
forming spit in your mouth, you held onto his cock, an immediate grunt rupturing from his throat, letting the spit falling down at his tip. brushing your thumb over it, lathering your spit down to his shaft.
âtighter⌠pleaseâŚâ he mumbled, foreheads now pressing as he watched your hand wrap around his throbbing and slightly veiny shaft, rolling your wrist in circular and jagged movements. tighter you held, hearing the sound of his throaty moans.
âlike this?â you breath, quickening your pace. he deserved it.
lifting the bottom of his shirt, he placed the cloth in his mouth, seeing the light spread of hair that tracked up his navel and a hollowing abdomen at every whine he let out. âyes..â he gritted through his teeth.
his precum swaying around from the vigorous speed that continued to grow. he held his breath, brows knitted, body tense at the rhythmic pattern, veins channeling on your forearm with your fingers glazing against the underside of his tip. âlook at me.â you whispered, his eyes slowly traveled up your body until they locked with yours.
you spoke of lust in both your gazes, hearing the wetness of his spit coated cock at every pump, hunger radiating in you both like you desperately needed thisâ shameless and passionate intimacy.
your body yearned to feel him inside and the way he stared at youâ the burning sensation it brought youâ made it difficult for you. you wanted to feel him stretch your cunt. pushing him back by the press of your palm against your shoulder, he lay. hovering over him, wrapping your leg over his waist before angling yourself over him.
slowly you slid down on him, never feeling something as big as his. even just from the tip, you felt yourself gasp heavily as you kept lowering yourself down onto him. âfuck youâre so⌠bigâŚâ
james continued his whines, eyes closing tight, his body shuttered⌠you were so warm, your fleshy walls holding him so comfortably. bodies slowly enveloping on another as he tried to talk to your body with his handsâ sliding against your thighs, up your waist and momentarily on your breasts.
âyouâŚ.â he breathed, it hitching as he mindlessly held his breath, with you pushing more of him into youâ textured and wet, with a heartbeat that cradled the shaft of his cock. âyour pussy is sucking me inâŚâ he groaned, his ass tensing.
all of you. the sight of it all, each movement you made. fuck, didnât you drive him insane. at this moment, he knew he couldnât hold back any longer.
your pussy gripped his cock, deeper it went, as if your grip was unable to let him go. each moan you let out, your pussy clammed and mimicked each word as it pulsated against him.
he couldnât stay still, whimpering as you started to lightly bounce against himâ hands planted on his chest with a slight roll of your hips. you couldnât believe how good he felt inside of you, how full he made you. with you already cumming, it was hard to keep yourself steady, feeling yourself break down each time you lowered yourself.
pressing his hand on your back, he turned you both, now with you on your back laid against the floor, âlet me pleasure you⌠please.â he begged, both hands placed on the sides of your head.
âfuck me like the good boy you areâŚâ
and with that, it was as if a switch had been turned on in his brain. using one hand to grasp your thigh, âlike this?â he breathed, his words as slow as his thrusts, his drowsy-like eyes running up against your face. gritting his teeth, sucking on the cool yet hot air, eyebrows knitting together. he placed his forehead against yours, your hand now sliding up to his neckâ the pads of your fingers and thumb pressing down the sides of it, slowly tightening your grip. with struggling breaths, his hips continuing his rhythmic thrust yet trying to find the spot, the spot that will lead you into ecstasy.
the hand that held your thigh pressed it down further, his knees fixing itself at a better position, now his groin aiming downwards. his thrust now falling into slow, hungry pounds, his balls hitting just above your asshole. âdoes it feel good hereâŚ?â leaning down as he pressed wet kisses at the edge of your lips.
all you could give were responding moans, your body overstimulated by every movement he made.
each inward thrust, you could hear skin slapping against one another, your breasts mashing into each other. lips trailing down to your cheek, then to your ear, his tongue running at the side of your ear then switching to the next, groaning a series of âfucksâ and your name as the thrust started to increase in intensity. they were once slow, now holding more power, grunting at each inward hit. âgod. your⌠pussy⌠feels⌠soâŚ. soo fucking⌠so gooodâŚâ each word ending in a hitch.
his voice now holding a deeper, grosser tone, more animalistic as he grew pussy drunk at how you wrapped around him.
he enveloped your lips, inhaling and capturing your tongue in his mouth, sucking on its pink muscle, bobbing his head and swallowing any ounce of spit that rolled down to the back of his throat. your tongue slipped from his mouth, pressing a long kiss against his lips once more.
your mind transversed across what could possible be the gates of fucking heaven at this point. each twist and turn of his hips hitting spots your fingers could possible never do, your damp walls clamping around his girthy cockâgreedily needing to paint your insides with his cum, over and over again if he could.
"it feels good, it's so good...." you trailed off, lips pressing together as you muffled a few moans of satisfaction that sounded nearly like his nameâthe tip of his relentless cock hitting sweet, sweet spots with each charging pound. your hands removing themselves, now dragging and scratching into his back, tugging the flesh leaving continuous marks onto his skinâ causing him to wince in blissful pain.
the reverberating sounds of your name rolling off his tongue along with the desperate whines and groans of pleasure only elevated your lust "you're obsessed with my pussy," you whined, head thrown back at the intense plunges against your favored spot.
your promiscuous ways dragging him down in the mud, wanting to rut and fuck you like an untrained animal. that alluring voice of yours, cracking into a moan after you tried so desperately to tease him.
your concaving walls collapsing at his cock, walls with a flowery texture that ran against the pulsating veins of his dick. your wails rushing to his dick alongside your suctionâ with each inhale making its grasp tighter than before. your folds clasping at the sides of his shaft at every pull.
he place a thumb so kindly pressed at your slippery clit. circling it slow, with rougher presses at each thrust, itâs hood pushing back, feeling your wet, exposed bud nudge at the skin of his thumb. each run around, he could hear it, how your slick found itâs way all the way to your clit, making it harder for his thumb to be held in place.
his body loosened, with his hips now controlled, itâs speed rising with a longer pull and harder pound, body muggy with a thin layer of sweat, with your face buried in the inner corner of his neck.
âi donât ever want to stop fucking you⌠your pussy is too good.â his voice ridged and strained.
rhythmical slaps of wet skin colliding as his balls felt a sharp sensation each time it bounced against the sweetness of your hole. your pussyâs heartbeat causing his eyes to roll, holding his breath and letting it out shakily.
âfuck me just like that james⌠just like that.â your eyes widening with your legs wrapping around his waist. âim close!â
âi donât want to stop fucking you⌠i wish i could fuck you nonstop⌠i want to keep goingâŚâ his chest madly rattling against his ribcage.
shivers cascading through your arms as they gripped his hair firmly once again. your beings were joined in such an impassioned, fervid act of lustful ignited bursting flames out of your bodies. âcan i..." he breathed out, voice hoarse, âcan i breed you⌠please⌠please..â
the walls echoed sounds of your repeated pleasure lamentations followed by his needy words and melting into the increasing melody of skin against skin, lead you over the hill, "cum inside! do it babyâŚ" you uttered directly into his eyes, the familiar knot forming at the pit of your abdomen, convusling cunt tightening around his sliding shaft with each thrust.
he couldnât stop himself, feeling you cum on his cock made him bury himself further inside, hot spurts of his own cum filling you with rolling eyes and harsh gasps. glazed spit lips, bodies trembling from their high, and strained moans.
his arms snake around your body, cum oozing down his balls and thigh. âfuckâŚ.â his body not even finished with his high, slow thrust to chase after the leftover high you both breathed out.
âgod james⌠who wouldnât known you fucked so wellâŚâ
laid out on the floor, you both tried to catch your breaths. the contrast between every moment of you knowing one another to now, fucking each other like your life depended on it, you couldnât help but laugh.
how significant is it to have a simple manâ attractive at thatâ with his usual order of black coffee in your house, fucking you without a care in the world.
you knew⌠this wouldnât be the last time.
#james sunderland smut#james sunderland x reader#james sunderland#james sunderland silent hill#james x reader#silent hill 2#silent hill 2 smut#silent hill x reader
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Hi, love your writing so much â¤ď¸â¤ď¸
So I have a request could you maybe write something about Charles reacting to his girlfriend having an allergic reaction? Like she accidentally eats something (I'm allergic to apples) and he freaked out
âHoney, Iâm home!â Charles says, making you giggle and jump off the couch. Heâs carrying two bags from your favorite restaurant while his gym bag is in his other hand, but that doesnât stop you from hugging him and peppering his face with kisses.
âI missed you so much,â You say with a last kiss to his lips. âand Iâm starving.â
Charles gives you the bags while he takes off his shoes. âI bought two pieces of that carrot cake you like so much.â
Before you even look at what else is in the bags, you take the dessert out, grabbing a fork in the process. Charles joins you in the kitchen, stealing the first bite of the cake from you.
âI donât know why you like it so much, itâs gross.â He complains at which you roll your eyes, finally tasting the delicious and sweet cake.
After the second bite you can taste something different, something thatâs not been there all the other times youâve had it. However, you don't think too much about it and keep eating.
âDid you ask them to add something?â You ask after half of the cake has disappeared.
âNo?â He answers, mouth full of pasta. âOh! They said theyâre trying a new recipe and hasââ
He doesnât finish his sentence, Charles just snatches the plate out of your hands, causing it to fall onto the floor, making a mess.
âCharles, thatâs very rude!â
âIâm so sorry, baby. We need to go to the hospital.â He grabs your hand, rushing to the front door as you look confused at him, not understanding why heâs acting like that all of a sudden.
âChar, whatâs happening!â
âYou need to lie on your back, Iâm gonna call theââ
It takes you a moment to finally understand.
That strange taste in your mouth, why the cake wasnât like any of the other ones youâve had before.
Sighing, you squeeze your boyfriendâs hand, forcing him to turn around and stop for a second.
âBaby, Iâll be fine.â But Charles looks like heâs about to throw up, probably feeling so guilty. âI just need my EpiPen, can you get it for me?â
âNo! We need toââ
You cup his face, looking straight into his green eyes. âCharlie, you need to calm down or Iâm seriously gonna slap you in the face. Now, can you get my EpiPen? It is on my nightstââ
You havenât finished talking but heâs already sprinting up the stairs, tripping over his own feet. Thereâs a big commotion upstairs, things falling and Charles cursing as he searches for the medicine you need right now.
You slowly make your way to the couch, breathing in and out, when you hear Charles footsteps approaching.
He hands you the EpiPen and you smile up at him before taking it in your hands, taking your sweatpants off enough to push it against your thigh.
Charles looks away, making a strange sound. âIâm so sorry.â He whispers, looking like a kicked puppy in the middle of the road.
âItâs okay, Char.â
âNo, itâs not! Iâm gonna sue them,â He starts pacing around the living room, pulling on his hair. âhow dare they do this! You could die.â
âIâm not going to die.â You laugh, rubbing the area around the injection for a few seconds. âYou need to calm down because this isnât helping me.â
His expression relaxes, and he sits next to you, grabbing your free hand. âIâm sorry. I shouldâve asked.â
âItâs not your fault, Charles. These things happen and theyâve been happening to me all my life.â You rub his palm, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder. âI donât know how many times this has happened since weâve been dating, but you still freak out.â He laughs, closing his eyes and finally, finally, relaxing against you. âItâs cute.â
âI donât want anything bad to happen to you.â
âIâm allergic to three different things, baby. You need to get used to it.â
#ę°ę° đ â verstappen cult files ęąęą#f1 x reader#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fluff#f1 imagine#charles leclerc drabble#charles leclerc x you#f1 fanfic
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HER | part one.
â§â 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 canât see this going well. at all.
pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 23.5k genres/tropes:Â 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 (iâm coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.
(!) warnings: drug use (weed, coke, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.
â§â a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!
the fic is told from wonwooâs pov, not the readerâs!Â
all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates
potentially triggering scenes within the fic are NOT MARKED in advance
the content is already quite mature, so pls heed the warnings!
bolded and italicized text implies characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesnât happen often!
the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts
everyone's patience and understanding has been endlessly appreciated! you have no idea ;_; i give you all shining stars đ
⢠part two | part three | part four | part five | part six ⢠soundtrack for those curious! â˘Â read at ur own pace! :)
âMARCH 19TH.
âI have a relatively big favour to ask of you.â
 No. Wonwoo didnât want anything to do with favours.
The fact that Seokmin had actively picked out his presence in the coffee shop like he was some shiny contortion of plastic had actually offended Wonwoo. He came here for two things: to not be bothered, which his friend knew, and to work on the book he was halfway through typing and had been halfway through typing for the past six months. Call it writerâs block, or an inspiration drought, or an absolutely depressing lack of driveâit had been hanging over the writer with an annoying persistence and it seemed that no number of lemony scones or cold coffees were going to make it vanish.
âUh, Wonwoo?â
âSorry⌠what?â He forced his gaze to shift from the blank page on his laptop to Seokminâs apologetic, softly expressional face, slightly flushed from his time outdoors in the chilled March weather.
âI was just wondering if youâd be up for a favourâa pretty big oneâand I know this is your special creativity spot, but sheâs been like, breathing down my neck about it and I canât put it off again.â
âWhose been breathing down your neck?â
At first, Seokmin didnât say a word, or even make a sound. His lips twitched for a moment, but then he pressed them together and his chest visibly sucked in with a breath. God, Wonwoo hated the suspense and he hated Seokmin for interrupting him when he had been so stupidly close to putting a sentence down that he probably would have back-spaced in frustration a minute later. Â
âYâknowâŚâ he trailed off, âHer.â
Her.
No, not her, you.
But most peopleâif not everyoneâreferred to you by an alias that had seemed to stick so well the majority believed it actually was your name. When people said her they meant Her, and so in a confusing mess of finger-pointing they really meant you. Come to think of it, Wonwoo had no idea where the nickname even came from or who gave it to you or what it even meant.
And he was perfectly fine with never knowing.
âWhat?â Wonwoo deadpanned. âWhat on earth could she want to do with me? She doesnât even know me.â He slid down in his chair, fingers pulling at his circle-lensed glasses so they tilted uncomfortably across his nose bridge. âOr, is this a joke?â
âOhâno! Absolutely not!â His friend was insistent on proclaiming, vigorously shaking his head. âIâm being serious.â
âWhy donât I believe you then?â
âOkay, well, if you let me explain everything, itâll all make sense. I said I know someone who writes really wellââ
âMeaning me?â
âYes, meaning you. And the only reason that was even brought up is because she wants to write a book.â
Wonwoo couldnât help it. He laughed a very short disbelieving laugh that flashed a transient smile to his face as he readjusted his crooked glasses. You were the last person he would ever envision wanting to write a book. He then navigated the trackpad on his laptop, deciding to close the document simply titled, 01, that harboured the fleet of pages to his own current work in progress.
âYeah,â Wonwoo disregarded, âsounds like bullshit.â
âIâm telling you the truth!â Seokmin exclaimed, gripping onto the metal back of the cafĂŠ chair like he was squeezing someoneâs taunt shoulders. âShe wonât tell me about what, okay? Just that sheâs been thinking the idea for a while now. Itâs not like I didnât try to get details. But she refusedâsaid the only person who can know is whoeverâs going to help her. Look, yâhave to understand, she was pestering me about it nonstop. And youâre my only writer friend!â
âWell, youâre about to have none.â He answered, reaching for his coffee cup but stopping it just short of his lips. âHow serious is she about this, anyway?â Wonwoo sighed. âDo you know how much fucking time you need to dedicate to writing a book?â
He stomached a slow, somewhat grimacing sip as he tasted the coffeeâs coldness, meanwhile Seokmin swallowed heavily, and at last pulled out the chair heâd been white-knuckling to take a seat.
âYes, Iâm aware it takes time. I know that. And she is serious or else I wouldnât be here, bothering you. She takes everything seriously.â The boy began unbuttoning his sleek black jacket. âReally, who knows whatâll happen? Maybe youâll meet her once and sheâll decide she canât stand you, and then youâre off the hook for life.â
âYeah, well have you ever considered what might happen if I canât stand her? Are my feelings even being considered? Minutely?â
âMinutely, they are being considered.â
âLiar.â
It wasnât that Wonwoo disliked you.
In actuality, you scared him more than anything. But to be associated with you was to be drawn into your life and caught like a firefly in a glass jelly jar. The proof was right in front of himâto Wonwooâs eyes, Seokmin was basically your little mailman that scrambled around in hectic nature to do your bidding, because most tasks apparently werenât worth the time or effort.
âI canât believe youâre trying to rope me into this. You know I can hardly write my own shit, right?â Wonwoo said bitterly, wishing it was the opposite, âmy mind is a desolate, blank canvas of fuck-all and if she thinks Iâm writing it then she needs a reality check.â
âNo, noâof course you wonât write it!â Seokmin reassured him with his big, opalescent smile. âReally, youâre just giving tips, maybe guiding her process, helping with the planning⌠you know, this could be facilitated so much easier if you spoke to Her yourself!â
âSo, my nightmare?â Wonwoo huffed, shaking his leg.
In an instant, Seokmin had whipped out his phone, tapping around the screen quickly using his thin pointer finger.
âIâm just going to pull up her schedule. Itâs always pretty packed, but more into the summer break, it thins out a little. â
Wonwoo exhaled, staring off into the warm, afternoon sunlight that hailed in through the windows, striking all the shimmering flecks and pieces of dust afloat in the cafĂŠ air. When he breathed in again, he could smell the luxurious coffees brewing in their rich and distinctive notes. It was such a beautiful dayâstill chilly as the snow outdoors began to thawâbut pleasant nonetheless.
âThis is such a fucking waste.â
And Wonwoo spent it being miserable.
âNo, itâll be useful. Trust.â Seokmin chirped.
âYouâre trying to dip me in your optimism gloss again.â
His friend smiled affectionately, tilting his head.
âThis will be good. Youâve been a hermit since Iâve known you.â
âYeah,â Wonwoo scoffed, âso you think itâs a good idea to shove me with the person I relate to least on the entire planet?â
âReally? The least? So, what youâre saying is, you relate more to serial killers? Or animal abusers? Or like, literal fascââ
âStop.â
âYou want to do this. I can see it in your eyes. Iâll set you up.â
A part of Wonwoo knew there might be no wriggling out of the situation, especially with Seokmin sitting across from him, characteristically eager and brightly pushy as always, like a goddamn salesman. For now, it could be easier to let himself get cuffed.
âCan I at least have some time to think it over?â
âUh⌠well⌠the thing is⌠the thing with that isââ
âYouâve cornered me?â
âI wouldnât word it like that.â
â⌠Okay.â Wonwoo removed his glasses, shoved his knuckles tender but deep into his eye sockets, massaging through flashes of white as he came to accept a fate he didnât know even existed in his astrology. âJust, I donât knowâfuckâschedule me in wherever.â
âHa! It doesnât exactly work like that.â
âI really donât give a damn how it works, Seokmin.â
âRight,â his friend laughed nervously, âI promise that Iâll get back to you pronto. Sorry for the disturbance. And, uh, good luck.â
 âWith what part?â Wonwoo grumbled, fixing his spectacles back on to clarify Seokminâs sympathetic face, the light bouncing off his head of brassy hair like a disco ball. âMy incapability to write a goddamn thing or the fact I have to help your perfectionist friend whoâs probably going to chew me up and spit me out?â
 âBoth parts.â Seokmin grinned. âIt can only go up from here.â
Wonwoo had one very distinct memory of you: creative writing with Mr. T. It had been an elective class he took amongst all his compulsory maths, and at the time it was a much appreciated break when Wonwoo grew apathetically bored from looking at matrices and confidence intervals and equations that engulfed the length of his notebook. Professor T was late one day in the fall.
And thatâs when Wonwoo remembered you walking in.
There was a sort of sharpness about your presence that pulled everyoneâs spines straight. People tended to angle themselves away from you, though they did it subtly, feigning an adjustment in their seat or a plunge into their bookbag for something that wasnât even there. Wonwoo lacked the words to describe you. To be honest, he most likely could if he put that infinitely expanding lexicon of his to work, but even then, he feared that everything would fall flat.
Some scruffy looking guy had made the mistake of sitting in your seatâsomeone who probably skipped most lectures and only happened to find himself near Gildan Hall purely by chance.
It was the seat squat in the middle of the small auditorium.
He remembered the hand propped on your hip as you sashayed up to himâyou always sashayed places. Wonwoo found it funny, like there were paparazzi stuffed behind potted plants and vending machines waiting to spring out with their blinding flares, just to capture you picking up a half-empty bag of flavourless popcorn.
âOh no. Oh no no no no no no no.â
âHm?â
âExcuse me? Yes, hello. Youâcan you get up please?â
âUp...? Why?â
 âWho are you?â
  âIâm sorry⌠whatâs this about?â
 âAre you a first-year or something? Never bothered going to class until now? All the moshing and beer pong and ending up in some random basement of a friend of a friend of a friend is done so youâre deciding to actually get your moneyâs worth? Well, let me tell you thisâIâve been showing up to class punctually, and this is my seat. I always sit here. Itâs my unofficially-assigned-assigned seat, which seems to be a known fact to everyone in this room except for you. Everyone has one. Everyone knows youâre not supposed to sit in other peopleâs seats. I don't care who you are. You could be my own mother. You could be my best friend, even. President of the universe. That doesn't make it okay, 'cause itâs a respect thing. It's one of those assumed societal rules and you just fucking kicked dirt all over it.â
Whoever he was, he never came back to another lecture.
Since then, Wonwoo had dually made it his mission to never cross paths with you, look at you, or even so much as huff one single carbon-dioxide filled breath in your general direction, just in case that was some degree of unbeknownst personal law he might violate.
Seokmin had royally screwed it up for him.
What could you possibly want to write a book about, anyway?
âMARCH 26TH.
Wonwoo didnât know how he was expected to find you in this gigantic mall. As he brushed through the streamlines of people, bumping their shoulders and mumbling the driest, most insincere apologies, he couldnât stop looking at his phone. Seokmin had given him your number with the instruction that he could find you, here, on a busy Saturday afternoon. So far, Wonwoo had sent you four texts, none prompting a response or the grey-dotted bubble, even. Fuck, why did he agree to this? He couldnât stop thinking it.
Why did he agree to help you, whom he was beginning to not even like, or want to be aquatinted with, write a book, when heâd been struggling to fill the same page of his own story for months?
Squeezing the phone tighter in his fingers, Wonwooâs broad shoulder then smacked into someone else while he was busy steeping in his misfortune. It earned him a wildly disgusted look.
âMaybe watch where youâre going," the stranger grumbled, some man with an engrained scowl and big, bewildered eyes.
But Wonwoo ignored him.
He didnât fucking care, and he was sick of wandering through this mall. It made him feel overstimulated, like his clothes were sticking to his skin differently, like the back of his head was swelling, and like all the smells in his nose were somehow making him warmer.
The stranger just stared at Wonwoo as he walked away.
Ding!
A text, but not from youâSeokmin, instead. Apparently, you were in some clothing store on the second floor. Wonwoo stepped onto the escalator, pressing himself into the barrier to make room for the especially speedy people who couldnât simply stand and wait. He felt a random touch on the back of his head. Scrunching up the glasses on his nose and turning around, Wonwoo stared at the downward escalator, locking eyes with a pretty dark-haired girl heâd never seen before. She wiggled her fingers at him with a flirtatious smile, the scent of her perfume still lingering. Fresh roses, he thought.
He blinked at her once, twice, then turned back around.
Never in a million years.
It was funny, though.
Once Wonwoo stopped outside the clothing store you were supposedly inside, he felt the myriad of distractions and scents and noises dampen behind him. The irritability he couldnât shake was slowly transforming into nerves. Heâd never met you before, unless half-glances controlled by fear from across the small, basement auditorium that hosted creative writing counted.
Focusing on one breath, and then another, followed by a deep, self-soothing inhale, Wonwoo attempted to convince himself that he was in control, not the emotions quivering at his fingertips.
He cracked his neck and walked in.
After a minute or two of confused isle-pacing, Wonwoo rounded a corner, his eyes immediately fixating on a girl who was picking through a neatly assorted dress rack, her head tilted elegantly and her lipstick glimmering under the sterileness of the lightsâyou.
He gulped. Just suck it up.
She canât be that bad. You canât be that bad.
âUh, sorry to bother you. Iâm Wonwoo. I know we have a mutual friend in Seokmin. Lee Seokmin. Heâs in one of your seminar classes or something, and, uhâŚ. anyway. I believe Iâm supposed to help you with a book youâre interested in writing⌠thatâs what I was told, at the very least. And⌠I know weâve never met but⌠um⌠I guessâŚâ he trailed off upon noting your lack of acknowledgement.
Suddenly, he was taking a step back, letting you progress further along the clothing rack, your fingers hopping between each hanger and your eyes scanning their corresponding fabrics.
Wonwoo jerked on the inside with panic. He hated the situation already, though he somehow found the resounding courage, or perhaps, humility, to address you again, even if heâd rather die.
âSo, Iâm not sure if youââ
âCan you move, please? Over here or something? I want this dress.â
He kept his mouth shut in order to avoid spilling out any obtuse nonsense, instead watching with a nervous, analyzing gaze as you removed the hanger and shook out the purple, wine-coloured fabric, its sparkles rippling when you stroked your hand along it.
âWoah. This is too pretty.â
Wonwoo cleared his throat, unsure if you were speaking to him directly. You already had a bundle of dresses tossed over your arm. Why would you meet up with him when you were clearly busy?
âHey, what did you say your name was?â
âMe?â He found himself echoing.
âNo, the mannequin wearing that hideous plaid mini skirt. Of course Iâm talking to you. Should I get you a q-tip or something?â
âNo... I don't need a q-tip. Itâs Wonwoo.â
âWonwoo?â You exercised the name slowly on your tongue.
âYeah.â
âOkay, well, just so youâre aware, itâs 11:35. You were supposed to meet me outside the boutique at 11:30. I can see youâre not very punctual, so thatâs notedâŚâ for a moment, you stood back, and the searing line of your gaze judgmentally raked him from top to bottom. âAnyway⌠youâll have to assist me with some things now, thanks to your big delay. I got all bored waiting for you, so I decided to do a little self-indulgent shopping."
It could have been wiser to continue biting his tongue, but even Wonwoo, who had practically vowed to avoid you for all eternity due to his fear, felt compelled to challenge your unorthodox logic.
âBig delay? I donât mean to be rude, but I did take the bus to get here, and their timing is never right. I feel like five minutes is a reasonable time to wait. Not that Iâm saying youâre impatient.â
âWell, hereâs the thingâŚâ your back turned to him as you took a few slow steps down the clothing rack, probing between the different, pricy materials for anything exuberant you might have missed. âThat is what you said, isnât it? That Iâm impatient? I meanâjeezâwhy bother dancing around it when you can just say it?â
He watched you face him again, except he was keeping perfectly silent, clutching his hand into an anxious, balled fist.
âWell, I suspect you lack urgency, making you apathetic, so therefore you have no sense of initiative. Iâm sure youâre already aware, anyway. I can be slow, too, with certain things. Like, when Iâm icing a cake. Or painting my nails. But I donât walk slow, ever. Thatâs for unmotivated, pointless people who will probably go nowhere in life.â
â⌠Pardon?â
âHold this, please.â
Suddenly, you draped the wine-coloured dress over Wonwooâs shoulder. And he left it there for a second, still gobsmacked, chest shuddering from the pressure of his pumping heart, and wondered how you were even a real person. Once you began walking elsewhere in the store, Wonwoo questioned a very understandable escape toward the exit, though, for some reason, he snapped from his stupor and quickly paced after you, now folding the dress more straightly over his arm. He realized he was too afraid to surrender.
âIâm supposed to help you write a book,â he stated, feeling his lungs dig deep for air, âSeokmin said you needed help.â
âOkay, Iâm tired of holding these two. Hereââ you again blanketed the dresses into his arms, ââplease keep this olive one in good shape, no crinkles. I have yet to find this colour anywhere else.â
Swinging back around, you began heading toward the change rooms, your uncomfortably tall looking heels clicking with each step. Wonwoo stuttered, and he couldnât stop doing itâjust, absolutely baffled by you and your consuming sense of worth. He didnât know what to say, he could only follow, producing bits and pieces of sentences that you were either ignoring or genuinely hadnât heard in comparison to the monologues in your own head.
âAt what point will we discuss why Iâm here?â
Finally, he spat out something coherent.
You paused, and for a fleeting moment, flicked your very intense eyes up and down in an examination of Wonwoo, who felt like he was being intrusively picked apart under a microscope.
 He swallowed tautly, âIâm just wondering⌠thatâs all.â
You pressed your wallet against the top of his shoulder, guiding him to sit down on the white leather stool placed just outside the fitting rooms. He sat, too, fighting the urge to wipe his clammy palms on his jeansâeven worse, the dresses youâd dumped on him.
âLetâs talk after I try these on, âkay?â
There was something different about your voice. It fell lower, sweeter, and he shivered with the thought that you had quite possibly just hypnotized him. He looked up at you, nodding his head.
âGood. Everyone calls me Her, by the way.â
âI know.â
He held his breath as you reached out to take a dress, the wine-coloured one, which was more like a dark, nightly amethyst now that Wonwoo was observing the fabric up close. So, what the hell was he supposed to do? Just sit there, twiddling his thumbs and shaking his knee while you busied yourself with fitting into all those wildly sumptuous dresses? There was a plethora of other things heâd rather be doingâtoo many to name, in fact. But he wasnât going to bother slithering away now, chiefly because you petrified him too much and he wasnât in the mood to be further guilt-tripped by Seokmin. Â
Throwing his head back, he blew out a tired huff and looked at the ceiling. Why the fuck was he doing this? He just couldnât stop thinking it. What on earth could he possibly gain from being terrorized by your weird authority.
âHey, Iâve been there, for sure.â
Wonwoo noticed an older man waltzing past him, probably in his early thirties or so, whoâd spoken in a sympathetic tone. He seemed very polished and clean-cut, made apparent by his sleek suit, and as a university student who was routinely on the verge of going broke after most rents, Wonwoo knew money when he saw it.
âPardon?â
The man stopped and smiled.
âWaiting for your girlfriend, arenât you?â
âOh, no. Iâm justââ
He was interrupted by the squeak of the change room door.
âBe honest. How does this look?â
You had stepped out to examine your silhouette in the large, full-body mirrors against the wall, taking advantage of the heavier lighting to scrutinize every divot and ruffle that textured the amethyst dress. Wonwoo wasnât sure what to say in the moment, and the man he was explaining himself to had wandered off into another aisle to answer a phone call. He watched your fingers pick and pull at the material so it could be readjusted in certain places, your bottom lip pursed as you angled your hips and tensed a leg to make a pose.
There were at least three other dresses strewn in his lap, and you were most definitely going to make him sit there and judge each one. Now, he could be honest. The dress was glittery yet sophisticated, something like a gloaming, purple-stained sky and its first emergent stars encapsulated into fabric, though he wasnât completely sold on it. But he also wanted to leave the mall as quick as time would allow, so rather than being verbose, he shaved it down.
âItâs pretty, not great. I donât really know.â
âHmmâŚâ you mumbled, keeping your eyes fixated on the mirror, ânot great? Whatâs not great about it? The frilly parts?â
âYeah, the frilly parts.â
God, he wanted to go home so bad. Warm tea would be nice right now. There were crinkle-cut fries in his freezer.
âUgh, but I love the colour. Iâm getting conflicted. Maybe Iâll toss it aside and think about it again later. Yeah, Iâll do that... okay, let me get the white one next. Itâs a little short but I can make it work.â
 Wonwoo carefully pulled out the white outfit from the bottom of the pile and handed it off to you. The skirt was notably cropped.
Again, you strode back into the change room and softly clicked the door shut behind you. Wonwoo pulled out his phone almost immediately, navigating to his texts with Seokmin. His thumbs blasted against the screen, tapping out literary warfare that expanded into a decent sized paragraph Seokmin would most likely respond to with an apologetic smiley face. It might take a day or two for Wonwoo to cool off, but he always forgave him. Mr. Sunshine.
When he heard the door rattle, Wonwoo quickly hid his phone back in his pants pocket; however, he severely regretted that decision because holy fuckâthat vinyl white skirt was indeed short and tight and the winding, crossed straps of the top were just maintaining your cleavage. He needed something to help avert his eyes because Wonwoo felt them itch with the urge to stare at your body despite how uncomfortable he was. The floor tilesâcount the floor tiles, or count the lightsâsomething, anything to distract his brain.
âOkay, this is likeâif I bend over, Iâm flashing someone.â
He prayed you wouldnât ask him his thoughts.
âBut likeâokay, I can make this work, right? This has potential. If I stand really straight, and proper, and, just⌠pull this down a bit hereâokay, fuck, that was too much. Donât look for a second⌠donât lookâŚ. donât look⌠mâkay, fixed it.â
Wonwoo wanted to cradle his head in his hands. And, right when he swore that the situation couldnât sink much lower, the wealthy, black-suit man returned from his phone call. He paused the second he saw you in the mirror, watching intensely as you fiddled with the vinyl and attempted to adjust the x-shaped top a little higher over your cleavage. Except he wasnât exactly modest about his gaze. It was drinking you in like some sort of insatiable alcohol.
âThis is tough,â you huffed, pressing your hands against your chest, âthe top is super sexy. I love how open the back is. But itâs such little fabric considering the price. It sucks that I look so hot in it.â
Horrendously, Wonwoo noticed a jewel bracelet slip off your wrist onto the tiled floor. Even more horrendously, he watched in the tensest position possible as you began to bend over and grab it.
No. No, no, no, no way.
The last two dresses spilled in a silk and cotton heap off his lap, nearly tripping him during his rush toward you. He managed to cover your backside in the most heart-hammering nick of time, his hands accidentally brushing in static sparks against yours to help you pull the tight fabric back down your hips. Knowing the man was still watching in the mirror, Wonwoo clasped onto your arm and dragged you back toward the fitting room, his cheeks turned to rubies.
âFuck, you need to be more careful,â he rasped, âthe skirt is too short for you to bending over like that, alright?â
âIâm not leaving a gifted two-hundred-dollar bracelet on the fucking ground. Should I have just kicked it into the change room?â
âGoshâŚâ Wonwoo rubbed along his neck with tire and lowered his voice. âBending over in a skirt that short, especially when thereâs a fucking weirdo watching you, is not the best procedure.â
âSo, itâs my fault heâs a creep?â
âOkayâthat wasnât what Iâumââ
âDo you even like this outfit?â You deadpanned.
Wonwoo chuckled in disbelief, âIâm not answering that.â
âThis is useless." Your eyes agitatedly rolled. âIâm changing.â
âGreat, whatever. Do that.â
He gently pushed you further into the change room and closed the door with a smooth, loud shutter. His heart was still racing.
âYeah, I wouldnât let my girlfriend wear that either.â
âSheâs not my girlfriend.â Wonwoo didnât care that his tone was snappish and clearly tired as he collapsed back onto the stool, making a point to ignore the perverted bastard until he left.
âWonwoo!â You called his name after a few minutes of silence from the fitting room, âplease bring me the green one!â
He wanted to utterly vanish, have the building collapse and crush him in a pile of dust plumes and rubble. Sliding the dress through the small gap in the changeroom door, Wonwoo found himself pausing.
âWhy donât I just hand all these to you?â
âBecause, Iâm using the hangers in here for my clothes.â
âWhy canât you just puââ
âThank you!â
Impatiently, you nabbed the dress and shut the door.
However, that dress was the last one you tried on, and Wonwoo couldnât have been any more relieved. Talking to you seemed like it might give him heartburn or a hemorrhage.
He thought the shiny colour of olive green suited you best.
The dress was silken and long, slightly form-fitting, with a slit cut far up the right thigh and thin spaghetti straps at the shoulders.
You picked the first three dresses to take home, and left the last shimmery one on the rack.
âWeâre leaving now?â Wonwoo asked, cracking his fingers.
âYes, after I pay. Donât seem so eager.â
âWith all due respect, this place isn't really my scene.â
âYour attitude isn't really my scene.â You swiftly corrected him.
He stood next to you at the counter, observing as you zipped open your small black wallet to pull out a credit card. If you were shopping at a store like this, you must be making bank. But Wonwoo was somewhat nosey, and when you set the card on the countertop, he glanced at its embossed name. It definitely wasnât your name.
Kim Mingyu.
It was your boyfriendâs.
[ Wonwoo | 1:15 pm ]: Goddammit Seokmin answer me
[ Wonwoo | 1:15 pm]: Iâve sent you at least ten texts
[ Wonwoo | 1:16 pm ]: Truly how do you do anything with this girl? I feel like sheâs somewhat psychotic and you just fucking had to flash your sad mopey eyes at me in that cafĂŠ so I would break and help her write her book. Iâm sitting here with dresses in my lap, pretty much acting as her unpaid personal assistant. Why the fuck is she asking me about dresses, anyway? Did you help her orchestrate this bullshit? Iâm actually pissed at you. I want an entire paid lunch.
He wasnât all that surprised you made him carry the matte silver shopping bag (with these twine handles that he absolutely hated because of how they suffocated around his fingers), and by a certain point, Wonwoo just didnât give a damn any more. What little social battery heâd maintained since leaving his apartment had officially depleted, for he could feel it weighing in the plaza air around him like an imperceptible mist. Unfortunately, you werenât lying about being a fast walker. Heâd never seen someone stalk with such vigor.
It was nearly an endurance test to keep at your swaying hip, and the few times he fell behind, you would pause and beckon for him.
But Wonwoo discovered that even you needed to stop, to eat and drink like a normal human rather than the disguised cyborg he fleetingly speculated you were. Your touch was so abruptâa hand had curled around his bicep and suddenly Wonwoo found himself being jerked into a cafĂŠ on the bottom floor of the mall. Of course, you had to pick the most expensive place to buy food in the entire fucking vicinity, and since Wonwoo was penny pinching at the moment, he opted to stand back and let you order.
But then he saw you flick open your wallet, waving Mingyuâs sleek yet flashy credit card between your fingers with blatant enticement.
âI can pay for you.â
He shook his head, muttering a careless, âno thanks.â
âDon't BS me. What do you want to eat?â
Wonwoo couldnât stop staring at the credit card.
âWhatâs the limit on that thing?â
âEnough.â
âYou havenât burned through it already?â
âThese openly snide comments youâre making arenât appreciated, you know. Now, please give me an answer before I break off the temples to your glasses so I can use them to stir my drink.â
â⌠What?â Wonwoo mumbled, completely lost.
âPick something!â
âOkay, fuck. Iâll just get a coffee, then.â
He took a step forward to examine the menu boards that the employees were wildly scuttling around underneath, browsing down their chalk-written cold brews until he picked one at random.
That was all Wonwoo asked for.
You bought a lemonade and some sandwich he didnât catch the name of, toasted on panini bread. It felt amazing to sit down. Wonwoo let the silver bag slide completely off his arm and hit the floor, to which he could sense your gaze stinging over him in disapproval. He should have gotten a sandwich himself, but Wonwoo still wasnât sure how he felt about using the money on your boyfriendâs credit card.
Wonwoo relaxed in his chair, angling a glance down at his phone that he kept below the table, checking for any Seokmin texts.
None. He was supposed to be Wonwooâs stupid life preserver in this situation with you, and so far, heâd been left for dead. Taking a lengthy sip from his drink was the only way he could stomach it.
âYou should put your phone on the table. Screen down.â
âFor what reason?â Wonwoo responded in a dull tone, quickly checking his social media with impatient swipes of his thumb.
âSo we can have a conversation.â
At that, he almost gagged, slapping down the coffee cup heâd just picked up.
âNow?â Wonwoo laughed, his deep voice reverberating louder than he intended around the cafĂŠ, âyou want to talk now?â
âUh, yes,â you answered, picking up one half of your sandwich and readying it before your mouth, âwhy is that shocking?â
âBecauseâyouâah, whatever.â
âYou seem crabby. Is that your normal shtick or are you just hangry? Are you sure you donât want anything to eat?â
He was in a worse mood than usual, but that could be blamed entirely on the mall and how exhausted it made him feelâeverything about its environment sucked out his soul. It was most likely the reason he was even daring to act so impatient. You took another bite as you waited for him to answer, and the delicious crackling sound of the toasted bread managed to fissure something inside him.
âYour eyes tell all. Hereâs the other half.â You offered.
Finally, heâd experienced his first flares of contentment that day, though he wasnât expecting it to be from a panini sandwich with what he could taste to be lettuce, mayonnaise, tomato, and different types of melted cheese.
âThanks.â
âWell, Iâll at least give us time to finish eating.â
[ Seokmin | 2:30pm ]: I can do one paid lunch :)
[ Seokmin | 2:30 pm ]: Herâs not psychotic sheâs just uhh
[ Seokmin | 2:31 pm ]: She probs did it to mess with youÂ
[ Wonwoo | 2:37 pm ]: She thinks being 5 mins late warrants putting me through one of the worst experiences in my life.
[ Seokmin | 2:37 pm ]: Awwww
[ Seokmin | 2:37 pm ]: Who doesnât like a little shopping??
[ Wonwoo | 2:39 pm ]: It wasnât shopping it was torture. You owe me so much more than a fucking lunch.
âMARCH 29TH.
Unfortunately, Wonwoo never got the opportunity to discuss your book that Saturday. In the middle of eating, your phone buzzed with a brief call that had interrupted your peculiarly passionate rant on the different cup sizes at the movie theatre (Wonwoo had listened without saying anything, mostly because he dreaded the circumstances that may come from peeping a word when you were so fixated on explaining that âthe medium is too much but the small is too little and theyâre both obnoxiously pricedâ).
He then watched cluelessly as you launched up from the table, collecting every little belonging between your fingers, babbling about some wax appointment that had escaped you.
It was just that simpleâyou were gone.
In the beginning moments of your absence, Wonwoo had sat there without much inclination of what to do next.
Heâd worried it was another test, and that he was supposed to dutifully follow you to said wax appointment and continue bending to your every endeavour with no retaliation throughout the day. He had also found the silence across from him unsettling, in a way.
Nonetheless, if you werenât there, then Wonwoo figured he didnât need to be there either. So he left, taking the fifty-six back to his apartment, and you hadnât contacted him since.
Wonwoo actually knew his landlord quite well.
Her building was comprised of four apartments, which sat above her pottery shop on the ground floor. She wasnât a very bothersome landlord and it was fairly easy to connect with her whenever something broke or caused problems.
When he first moved in three years ago, Wonwoo had ardently adored living there, constantly studying the shelves of shiny glazed vases in addition to the beautiful water colour paintings that were created by his landlord or her students. It had been an inspiration supernova in terms of his personal literature, and he was able to start writing his book. Though, at the time, Wonwoo hadnât been living alone in his apartment, and it was an inescapable fact that the only reason he began writing his book was with the hope of eventually presenting it to his old girlfriend-slash-roommate.
Now, it was just him.
And as Wonwoo pushed up from his grave of rumpled bedsheets, feeling lethargic and empty, he tried concerningly hard to pinch those thoughts from his mind. It was nearly lunch. He knew damn well he shouldnât have allowed himself to rot that long in bed, but the other half of himself, the self-sabotaging kind, just couldnât be bothered to fucking care. Wonwoo reached for his glasses that lay half-opened on the nightstand, raking them onto his face while brushing the hair from his eyes. The first thing he properly saw was his tall, skinny, orange bottle of venlafaxine. No. He was ignoring it.
Wonwoo had been ignoring it for the past few months.
Whenever he got particularly sick of staring at the bottle, heâd shove it in his drawer, making sure to bury it deep under old, amply-scribbled notepads and inkless pens that heâd worn to the bone. At last getting up from the bed, Wonwoo experienced his entire body sway and he caught the room spinning at the distant edges of his peripheral. But he walked through it without a care in the world, utterly too used to the feeling of imminent nausea even without his medication. He decided on a shower, then dressing himself, one Poptart, a swig of water from the kitchen tap, and almost walked out the apartment door with the minty toothbrush still in his mouth.
After walking three blocks down from his apartment, Wonwoo stepped across the dead, spiky grass and into the lacklustre parking lot behind the bowling alley that always smelled like stale pizza.
He knew the vanilla Camry well enough to identify itâstalled smack and centre amongst the emptinessâthe licence plate being chiselled into his head like his old locker combination from high school (16-12-24, because Wonwoo for some reason liked fixating on prehistoric details that were glaringly useless in his present).
Early two-thousands R&B was blasting from inside the outdated-looking car, though it was thankfully turned down once Wonwoo threw the door open and shimmied inside.
The odor permeated Wonwooâs lungs in a heartbeat.
âI thought you were getting this dry-cleaned,â he sighed to his friend, Vernon, who was busy rifling through a backpack.
âUh, didnât happen. Didnât wanna pay all that. Mâgonna find someone else to do it thatâs not taxinâ my ass. Air fresheners are all dried nâshit so youâre gonna have to deal. My bad, Glasses.â
Glasses. That nickname had always made Wonwoo huff a little half-chuckle, and almost instinctively, he pushed the glasses a bit higher back up his nose. He was introduced to Vernon at a New Yearâs Eve party he was forced to attend back in December, though it had been difficult to speak with him because he was blitzed out of his fucking mindânot to mention the choking pain of ignoring the girl who had been sliding her hands along the divots of his shoulders and chest from behind, kissing at his neck.
But Vernon was branded in tattoos, and had all kinds of metal in his face, and was blessed with concupiscent, honey-burnish eyes magnetized every woman in the vicinity straight to him.
Somehow, Vernon had become Wonwooâs plug in the mix.
âNow, what are you gettinâ, Glasses? The usual quarter ounce, right?â Vernonâs tongue poked between his blistered lips as he dug a heavily-inked hand further into the backpack seated in his lap.
âYeah, quarter ounce.â
âOh, fuck yeah. Found it. This one.â Vernon exchanged the plastic-bagged ounces of weed with Wonwooâs cash. âGimme, gimme. I know itâs all here, but let me check⌠â he flaked out the tinted bills with a satisfied head nod. âPrettier than a princess. Youâre golden.â
âDid you just say princess?â
âYeah. Thatâs what I said⌠what?â
âIâve never heard that.â
âItâs not princess?â
âItâs picture, isnât it? Prettier than a picture.â
âReally? Oh. Thatâs not how I rememberâwhy the fuck are we even talkinâ about this? Doesnât fuckinâ matter. Now, thatâs gonna last you if youâre cute,â he said, throwing his notorious bag into the seat behind him, then tapping at his busted radio with a thick strip of tape across it, the next song rasping through the speakers, âdonât go crazy on it with your meds and shit. Do you still got enough papers?â
Wonwoo scoffed dryly at Vernonâs assumption while he hid the plastic bag within an inside pouch on his navy-blue jacket. A second later and his phone buzzed with a text message.
âFuck the meds, honestly,â Wonwoo grunted, shifting his hips up in the seat to remove the phone from his back pocket.
Vernon itched his dark eyebrow. âAlright. Just askinâ.â
Wonwoo opted to say nothing as he checked the text message without much expectation, and he was thankful that Vernon was the type to drop a subject easily. Instead his friend transitioned into a different conversation, something about another tattoo that heâd been debating, but in the kindest way possible, Wonwoo wasnât listening to a goddamn word. You had texted him. Finally. For the first time. After three days of radio silence. And Wonwoo didnât know why heâd suddenly exploded into such a fidgety, heart-pounding mess. You wanted to meet up again in order to discuss the bookâs details.
âWho the fuck is that? Jesus Christ?â
âNo,â Wonwoo laughed, clasping his right hand into an anxious fist, âum, I dunno. JustâSeokminâs got me doing this thing with a friend of his. Sheâs trying to write a book and he kinda threw me into helping her. Weâre supposed to meet up and talk about it.â
âOh,â Vernon answered, leaning his elbow against the window and sweeping a hand through his black tresses, âdo I know the chick?â
âMaybe?â
âShe got any social media? An Instagram?â
âYeah.â
âOu, let me see.â
Wonwoo wasnât following you. Then again, he was hardly following anyone. His Instagram had remained completely empty since his girlfriend left him, which had prompted Wonwoo to archive every single picture and delete all the ones that contained her, even the ones that captured mere traces of her in beaded bracelets and hair ties and white socks left on the carpet.
Wonwoo used Seokminâs account to find you. Honestly, he hadnât ever looked at your Instagram before. Without gleaning a single photo, Wonwoo thrust his phone at Vernon.
âOh, yeah, I do know this chick,â Vernon chuckled, thumbing through your profile with a growing smirk, âHer, right?â
âYeah.â
âMm, yeah. Know her. Tried to fuck her. Didnât work at all.â
Snapping his head to look at Vernon, Wonwoo gaped, âwhat?â
âYeah, I meanââ Vernon adjusted himself in his seat, pulling up his knee to rest a tattoo-coated arm across it, ââran into the chick at a party that some rich dude at your university threw. Sweet-talked her for a bit until I realized she had a stupid boyfriend. She told me a million different ways to kill myself. Yeah, sheâs somethinâ, for sure.â
âYouâre lying.â
âHaâa little. She didnât tell me to kill myself, just scolded me for about ten minutes. God, she was wired as fuck though. Her boyfriendâfuckinâ, Mingyu, or whateverâhe gets her coke. Iâve seen her take a line like itâs pixie dust, man. This was like, over a year ago, though. Dunno if sheâs still that loopy. I donât care. Sheâs pretty hot.â
Vernon then flashed him a picture from your account, a full body picture of you sprawled across sparkling white sand in a bikini, meanwhile Wonwoo could only stare at it with the blankest possible expression as his brain splattered with computing Vernonâs story.
âIs she still with him?â Vernon asked.
Wonwoo cleared his throat and sat with his spine rigid against the leather, nearly forgetting where he was and what he was doing.
âWith who?â
âLady Liberty. Mingyu.â
âOh⌠yeah. Theyâre dating, still.â
âNo fuckinâ way,â his friend lamented while he continuously plunged further into your pictures, thumb pressed to his chin, eyes glimmering, âyou coulda flipped this book thing on its head and actually got some fuckinâ head, especially with that deep ass voice you got there. I know itâs gotta feel good. I mean, look at her lipsââ
âYouâre being gross as fuck,â Wonwoo groaned, swiping his phone back and stuffing it away, âget a girlfriend yourself, man.â
âIâm tryinâ to clean up my act a bit before I do that.â
âThatâs definitely a work in progress, Iâm assuming.â
âAsshole,â Vernonâs voice was gritty as he coughed into a fist, slipping his knee back under the steering wheel and proceeding to crank his stereo until the music was practically suffocating Wonwoo, ânow get the fuck out. Youâre not my only deal today. Sorry, Glasses.â
âLater.â
Wonwoo pushed open the door and stepped outside into the cold afternoon breeze. He sucked in a long, relieving breath. At times the fresh air disgusted him, especially when he cozied into one of his mental ruts and everything in the world seemed so grey it was soul-crushing, but Vernonâs car smelled like straight fucking cannabis.
Fresh air was heavenly.
âDonât forget to text your girl!â Vernon laughed just before Wonwoo slammed the door shut to swallow up the melodic lyrics.
He wanted to make a snap comment before the boy drove off to his next endeavour, but he didnât care enough to think of one.
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:35 pm ]: hey wonwoo, itâs her. I think we should finally settle a date to talk about this book thing. let me attach a pic of my schedule and you can pick any open slots
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:35 pm ]: 145_348.JPG
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:35 pm ]: Â seokmin isnât going to be our communicator anymore, so u can stop complaining to him about it
[ Wonwoo | 1:45 pm ]: Okay, thanks.
[ Wonwoo | 1:45 pm]: Iâll take a look soon.
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:45 pm ]: Iâm excited to see you again
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:50 pm ]: no likewise?!
[ Wonwoo | 1:50 pm ]: Likewise.
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:50 pm ]: ugh. thx
âAPRIL 1ST.
It was around six in the evening and Wonwoo was seated in the SRX building, the sky rolling with lambent, hazy-toned pastures of peach in the windows behind him. He had arrived about an hour ago, taking the staircase up to the third floor. It was much quieter there, making it easier for Wonwoo to endlessly stare with glazed, void eyes at his laptop screen and the cursed document he couldnât finish. After tapping his fingernails in a bored, repetitious pattern against the shiny white table, he felt the urge to delete each and every paragraph as if he hadnât poured months of earnest love into them.
You would be meeting him soon.
He could still remember looking at your schedule, pinching into the screen and examining all the different colour-coded blocks: dinner parties, SSA meetings, gym sessions, errandsâhow the fuck you managed to juggle those things and more left him marvelled yet terrified. You were pretty on point regarding your arrival time, to which Wonwoo could immediately identify you before even seeing your face due to the heel clicking and the sounds of tapping jewelry on your bag.
Emerging onto the floor with a very intense scowl and a notably crushing grip on your drink, you were to say the least, angry. Wonwoo gnawed slightly on his tongue as you sat down.
Your purse clunked like a cinderblock onto the table.
He watched you inhale a slow, shaky breath, raising your hand with the expansion of your chest in order to calm down.
 âIâm going to kill myself.â
Wonwoo leaned back in the chair, subtly trying to establish more distance between you. He flicked a glance at his laptop.
âDamn. Why is that?â
âBecause of stupid, incompetent people.â
âYeah?â
âI justâI donât get it!â You laughed, though it wasnât a particularly jovial sound and more than anything it seemed like you were going to start smashing glass. âI donât get how people are unable to understand that we donât do walk-ins unless one of the stylists are freeââ you dug a hand into your purse, pulling out a straw, ââwhich in the salonâs case, is almost never! I tell them we canât in my very sweet, established customer service voice: âIâm sorry, but the only way to receive a chair is to book online.'â
Wonwoo tilted his head, grinning a little.
âBlah, blah. I tell them the entire story in the kindest way I can, even though I want to grab them by their fucking neck and drag them over the counter to show them our website.â You slipped out your laptop next, accidentally dragging out a lanyard along with it that you agitatedly shoved back into the purse. âAnd then, they get all uptight and pissy when we canât wriggle them in! Sorry, our makeup artists are busy! Working with people who made scheduled fucking appointments! The world doesnât fucking revolve around you!â
You scraped the drink toward you, slamming the straw straight through the plastic film lid with such force that several people ended up turning their heads. After taking a long sip, you gulped and glared until they probably realized it was you and pretended not to care.
For a moment, Wonwoo didnât know what to say, so heâd folded his arms instead. Considering that Wonwoo worked the late shift stocking shelves at the pharmacy department, your predicament sounded like an entirely new world to him.
âUgh, Iâm sorry to bring all this negativity with me,â you apologized, still exasperated, âI donât need this fucking teaâI need straight vodka. Iâm seriously frazzled.â
âSeriously frazzled?â Wonwoo repeated, finding your choice of words funny as he resumed leaning forward, arms still crossed.
âVery, seriously frazzled.â
âIâm sorry about your day.â
Again, you sighed deeply while removing your long, warm jacket to drape over the chairâs spineâit was a rather elegant reveal of the strapless pearl dress underneath, tinted by the evening light, peach-pink as it rained from the ceiling length windows and framed your body like you were some sort of resurrected angel. Tension at last started escaping your shoulders. Wonwoo quickly realized that he'd been staring, and his fingers curled into a nervous fist.
âYouâre actually such a good listener.â
Wonwoo cleared his throat. âUm, thank you.â
âI like that you donât interrupt me.â
Settling his elbows on the table and ruffling the back of his messy black locks, Wonwoo felt himself panic a little on the inside.
âWell,â he heaved in, âI wouldnât dream of it.â
âI know," you chirped, posturing yourself confidently, âanyway, the book. We need to talk about it.â
âTableâs yours.â
Wonwooâs knuckles pressed softly into his cheek while he waited for you to prepare your laptop. His own document was glowing at him, and he swore the emptiness of the page made the screen brighter (in the absolute worst, most mocking way).
âOkay, Iâve got my ideas and such pulled up.â
He expected you to continue and introduce the concept, but you had suddenly stopped, and Wonwoo thought you appeared almost smitten and somewhat timorous. It was strange, because from what heâd known and gauged so far, you were nothing akin to that.
âWell, promise that you wonât think itâs ridiculous.â
âI donât even know what it is.â
âThatâs why I want you to promise!â
Wonwoo pushed up his glasses and sighed, âI will need to be honest at some points you know, depending on what kind of help you want from me. Not that Iâm going to be a straight-up dick.â
You scoured at him from over your laptop.
âWhatever.â
âIâll promise if it makes you feel better.â
âJustâshut up." You wiggled your hand at him dismissively and proceeded to tug the laptop closer. âI donât even care anymore.â
Once you spent a moment affirming the document to yourself, you looked up at him and smiled. âIâm going to write a book for Mingyu. Our fifth anniversary is coming up in the winterâitâs actually on Christmas Eveâthe day he officially asked me to be his girlfriend. I just want to write him a little memoire thingy that tells our story. I want it to walk through the events of our lives, and how I remember them. First encounter, first date, first kiss, stuff like that. Iâve already collected some good memories to include. I have⌠somewhat of an outline? But my problem is the writing. I can spew nonsense from my mouth at a million miles an hour, but when I try to actually write? Itâs crickets.â
You sat back, a hand poised thoughtfully at your cheek while one leg folded over the other. Wonwoo knew you were granting him the space to speak and at least offer a slice of his thoughts, yet, in that moment, he found himself to be drowning. He didnât believe in fate or destiny or anything of the delusional like; however, hearing you explain the exact premise of a story that he had been successfully writing until a certain breakupâit had shaken him, and Wonwoo felt like the universe was smearing salt fresh into his unsewn wounds.
âSoâŚâ your head cocked to the side. âCan I at least an âokayâ or a head nod or some sign of life? Or are you just too disgusted?â
What could he say? What was he supposed to say?
Wonwoo was genuinely clueless on how to help you write a story that heâd been utterly failing at writing himself. And, sure, maybe Wonwoo should just give up completely. His ex-girlfriend had ripped out his heart without a single indication that it would happen, and then exited his life in the blink of an eye, disappearing so fucking abruptly that Wonwoo could have said she was a shadow that he imagined in pure lunacy. But he hadnât dropped the story because there was this very stubborn, unwilling part of his being that could not move on from herâher, who had been his love, and breath, and bones.
Heâd decided to finish the story as a manner of easing into closure. If that closure never came, then so be it.
âAre you seriously fucking ignoring me right now?â
His silence had promptly disturbed your peace, and now you were glaring at him with the beginning licks of fire and hell in your eyes.
âI donât think I can help you.â
âWhat?â You pronounced sharply. âAre you kidding?â
âNo, Iâm sorry,â Wonwoo said while closing his laptop and sliding it back into his shoulder-sling bag, âI justâIâm not the right person to help you. Iâm not, and youâll have to take my word for it.â
âSeokmin told me you could write fucking anything. He made it out like you were some literature God with a golden quill. Andâgreat, youâre just packing up fucking everything. Are you serious? Am I even allowed more of an explanation or are you gonna leave it at that? Wonwoo, you couldnât have told me this at a worse time.â
âI didnât plan for it to be like that.â He could hardly push the syllables up his diaphragm. âIt canât be me. Iâm sorry.â
You didnât lift a finger to stop him from leaving, though the wavelength of your incinerating stare was felt like a hot, melting scratch down his neck. This was terrible, he was terribleâWonwoo already knew that about himself. He wanted to go home. He wanted to shut himself away in his room and sink straight through the sheets until he was swallowed. His anxiety was webbing around him. It was pulling him down into the soil and earth like he belonged there.
He truly hated this part of himself.
More than anything, he truly hated when other people saw it.
Especially people like you.
âAPRIL 8TH.
Wonwoo didnât think you would ever speak to him again, in person or over text message. In retrospect, he was fine with it. You were rather overwhelming and especially tiring for someone like Wonwoo who would be perfectly fine never seeing another human in his lifetime. Not to mention he was freed from helping you with your book, which he learned was a technical love letter to your boyfriend in addition to a romance he wanted a nonexistent part in. Going down that path once was already excruciating enough, and given his anxiety attack that saw him locked in a cold washroom stall last week, it was best you just forget about him. He assumed you already had, anyway.
After he stocked the last red bottle of sinus medicine onto the shelf, Wonwoo used his boxcutter to break down the cardboard package and fold it flat with the others heâd opened. It was time for his break, and then he would only have one more hour until the pharmacy section closed for the night. Once it hit ten oâclock, the store was automatically still and hardly anyone came inâminus the few student couples whom Wonwoo had to point in the direction of pregnancy tests or plan b. But it was a Tuesday night. He was at the bare minimum appeased he didnât have to console a sobbing, snotty-nosed eighteen-year-old girl imploring for a First Response.
When he collapsed down at his favourite seat in the breakroom, Wonwoo pulled out his phone. He had sent Seokmin a text yesterday evening about going studying at the SRX building for their upcoming math midterm, though Seokmin had yet to respond and Wonwoo couldnât evade wondering if you were pulling some strings behind the curtain.
He opened his bottle of juice and spent the remainder of his fifteen listening to music and jittering his knee.
Wonwoo took his earbuds with him back onto the floor, sneaking the wires under his shirt to pull out his collar. There were only a few boxes left on his cart that required stocking, and whatever didnât fit would have to be scanned into storage. That shouldn't take long. Wonwoo could almost taste the crisp atmosphere of the night air and feel the gentle chilliness soon to ghost against his face.
However, halfway into shelving the cough drops there had been a polite tap on his shoulder, and Wonwoo wanted to wither up and lose his head right there on the tiles like a sundried rose.
He didnât know who to expect when he turned around, pulling out a single earbud while the other continued to blast his music. Â
âOh, shitâI didnât know you worked here.â
Fuck. He wanted to kill himself.
âYeah, started a couple months ago, actually.â
Mingyu.
Itâs not that Wonwoo didnât like speaking with him, because they had definitely exchanged cordial conversations in the past, particularly when they both took that Probability Poker elective last semester and Wonwoo learned that Mingyu was a pretty decent bluffer. Unfortunately, Mingyuâs belief that he was a great bluffer was actually the one indication that he was indeed bluffing. It showed in his overly confident eyes before a twitch of the lips or a subtly shifted foot, meanwhile Wonwoo was able to sit there the entire time like he was an Easter Island statue incarnate.
Put simply, Wonwoo had always preferred to avoid Mingyu because he was your boyfriend, and per routine, he attempted to slip around most people that were associated with you.
âCool.â Mingyu smiled and the flashes of his pointed teeth caught the light. âStuffâs got switched around in here again.â
âNew mods came out last week,â Wonwoo answered, placing the last cough drop box onto the shelf and facing it straight.
âWell, donât know what the fuck that means,â his tone was brassy as he laughed, âI just came to ask where the plan b is now.â
 âTwo aisles down, check the endcap.â
âAppreciate it, thanksâoh, condoms?â
âNext aisle.â
âGot it.â
âJust come get me when youâre done,â Wonwoo said, grabbing his boxcutter and running the blade along the taped seam of the cardboard to satisfyingly slice it open, âIâm the only one in pharmacy right now, so I have to ring you up.â
As soon as Mingyu disappeared around the corner, Wonwoo tossed the flattened cardboard onto his cart with the loudest, most life-draining sigh that could be harboured. He wasnât the kind of person to cultivate those racing, panicky thoughts that consumed his brain like a merciless hurricane, rather it was typically one single thought that was an eternal black space to swallow him. But Wonwoo had to admit that seeing Mingyu had triggered something of the latter, and now he was feeling sick with the fact you possibly told Mingyu about his episode at the SRX building last week. To Wonwoo it had been the shackles of his anxiety, though it probably came across as a very ill-mannered, abrupt rejection from your perspective.
Mingyu didnât take long picking out his items. It was clearly a run of the mill routine for him at this pointâa mere grab and go.
At the register, Wonwoo mentally questioned why Mingyu had grabbed such a plethora of condoms. He didnât mean to be vulgar in his thinking, but how often were you getting fucking railed?
Either that, or Mingyu preferred being well stocked.
Vernon would be bruising his knuckles on his steering wheel right now, considering how devotedly he attempted to seduce you.
As payment, Mingyu pulled out that godforsaken credit card that you had borrowed during the dress shopping. Wonwoo felt nauseous just looking at the damn thing. He swiped all of the items into a small plastic bag which he then handed to Mingyu with a notable impatience, wanting to whisk the boy out as quick as possible.
âGânight, man. Thanks for the help.â
âNight,â he answered in a deep, tired sigh, watching Mingyuâs head of thick and bouncy black hair disappear toward the aglow exit.
Well, clearly you werenât wasting anytime thinking about him despite the dramatics pertaining to the situation last week, not even in the most marginal fraction. Mingyu must rail it out of you every nightânot that Wonwoo would be surprised to learn such a thing considering the tall boyâs physique and your openly lascivious nature.
Well, good luck to you both, he supposed.
At least it was closing time.
Wonwoo had always suspected there was something ever so slightly off kilter about his body, especially in the way it reacted to certain situations and emotions. He knew it probably wasnât the most mundane, ordinary actâlocking himself in his auntâs washroom the day of his sixteenth birthday, sliding down onto the cold, hard tiles, feeling his heart jolt, punch, and thump again his chest like a battering ram. There had been a pattern of rubber ducks on her eggshell blue shower curtain, and Wonwoo remembered counting them row by row, over and over, until his breath managed to steady.
Twenty-four ducks. He could still recall the number.
A doctorâs visit about three weeks later had granted him the diagnosis and a scribbled venlafaxine prescription. Wonwoo was already collecting his sweater off the tissue sheet bed, ready to leave.
In the beginning, he was strict about his medication. He organized them into pill cartridges and set alarms and always ate them with cooked, warm meals. Understandably, his habits dwindled every now and again, however, Wonwoo was quite pious to the routine for a good couple years. But then he met his most recent girlfriend in university. She was shy and reserved. All about the books.
Cute as buttons.
He fell in love.
And it was all such a rush of rose petals and sweet symphonies that Wonwoo became distracted from his healthy habits.
Of course, everything crashed and burned once she abandoned him. He capitulated in an instant, and the sight of the orange bottle made him paler than winter moonlight. Itâs not like he wanted to suffer, or despise the way his body put him through a neural hell beyond his own control. The fact of the matter was that Wonwoo just couldnât do it. He couldnât take those stupid pills.
It was a mountain. Every. Single. Time.
And for the third time that week, Wonwoo found himself awake at an ungodly hour, rifling through the black lunchbox he kept in his closet with his glasses about to slip off the fine point of his nose.
He pulled out the baggie filled with the quarter-ounce, his silver grinder, and his rolling papers. Moving to his desk, Wonwoo clicked on the small overhead lamp to illuminate his space, in which he tapped some of the weed into his grinder and began twisting the lid until he was satisfied. He liked preparing joints to smoke on the roof. It wasnât particularly hard to access, anyway. Right outside his bedroom window was a balcony with a short ladder attached to the brick, and once Wonwoo had discovered it, he made a habit of climbing up to spark his joints so that their pungent aroma could be carried away by the fresh winds usually stirred up at gloaming.
Honestly, it was the only thing he enjoyed.
Just before he slipped out the window, Wonwoo grabbed a pair of black jeans heâd worn earlier in the week, discovering the lighter heâd accidentally left in the back pocket.
The ladder shuddered slightly when Wonwoo gripped it, though if he were being candour, he didnât care whatsoever if all the bolts suddenly loosened and he were to splatter against the sidewalk like an uncooked pancake. In fact, the fall probably wasnât enough to kill him. Maybe a few broken bones and scrapes, some blood staining the street akin to little patterns of rain, bruises that signatured violets into his skin, but Wonwoo would still be painfully, vividly alive, enough to see the stars if the glasses didnât snap off his face.
It was a colder night, so Wonwoo made sure to tuck on his beanie and huddle into his thicker-sized coat. He sat with one leg dangling over the buildingâs edge, feeling the wind whiplash against his back and crawl in these chilly, indecipherable whispers from his shoulders to his neck, almost tickling him, like it had missed him.
An orange flicker popped to life from the butane of his lighter, which he used to lightly singe the joint perched at his lips. Wonwoo then tilted his head back, blowing the cloud and its loose, airy curls straight into the skyâs deepest purples.
He loved being alone.
Even when his ex-girlfriend had moved in with him all those months ago, there was an unyielding part of him that hadnât been ready to forfeit all his space and privacy.
But, over time, his love surmounted the sacrifice.
He would wake up to her sleeping face, and with thoughtful nudges, clear the hairs off her cheeks. He would spend an hour working on his homework or writing his story while waiting for her to stir so messily in the sheets that it became graceful. He would tease her with his cold hands as she boiled up tea in the kitchen, pinching at her hips with the utmost softness and giggling huskily into her neck when she would twist in the arms that bracketed her body against his chest. He would trap her between the counter, sunshine striking the room aglow in these nearly blinding seas of light, mouthing at her throat and tugging at her shorts and hitching his fingers so deep into her heat because all Wonwoo wanted to do was make her feel good.
Opening his eyes again, Wonwoo saw the stars rather than her face. The high was disseminating past his lungs and mingling with the pain that festered in his heart, concocting something that hurt so wonderfully, in all the right places, in all the right spots.
He was a fucking mess.
It wasnât sustainable. But he didnât care enough to fix himself.
 âAPRIL 15TH.
Why did Wonwoo keep coming back to that cafĂŠ? The number of times heâd sat down with conviction that today would be fruitfulâtoday, the eloquence would flow from his fingertips like perfectly pitched music notes and the symphony would read as beautiful and mellifluous as it sounded in his mind. Today, he was going to write.
Except, he accomplished nothing of the sort.
Repeatedly tapping his index finger against the space bar, he waited for the right adjective or phrase to leap outâto grasp him in a headlock evenâwhatever it took, Wonwoo was willing to sit there all afternoon until one fucking word conjured in the infinite blankness that was his imagination. He reached for his drink, only to take a sip of dry air that smelled like his earlier cocoa. Wonwoo realized the cup was empty. Had he wasted this much time already?
It pricked similarly to a bee sting. His passions felt impossible. A sigh upheaved from his chest and fingers curled into his hair, musing up the already disarrayed strands and slowly warping himself to look more and more like a mad scientist. Wonwoo removed his glasses and slumped back in the chair, rubbing at the reddish prints left on his nose. Writing had soaked itself in agony and he was going to remain in the storm of it until the bitter, ungratifying end.
âTill death do us part.
 And then, something struck.
Though it wasnât what Wonwoo had hoped for.
Literallyâit was your hand hitting the glass of the cafĂŠ window, which had jerked Wonwoo out from his self-pitying.
He scrambled to fix his glasses back on, your face clarifying in an instant. You smiled at him with your glossed lips, and he didnât like the nuance of your countenance one bit. Watching you enter the cafĂŠ was jarring and uncomfortable and his fist immediately clenched, his index nail picking at the ruined cuticle of his thumb. Two weeks agoâthat was the last time you had spoken. At the SRX building.
âHey!â You sounded friendly. âCan I sit here?â
âWell, uhââ
âGreat, thank you.â
You pulled out the chair across from him, then set your bag delicately on the windowsill. Wonwoo watched with nervous, fluttering eyes as you smoothed out your cropped skirt before sitting down, ensuring it was tucked under yourself appropriately.
âHow are you?â
Gulp.
âFine.â
âGood. Thatâs really good. Iâm glad.â Your nails drummed once against the table. âI actually didnât plan on coming here, but I saw you as I was crossing the street, and I thought, âI should stop by and check in on himâ because, yâknow, we havenât been talking.â
Wonwoo furrowed his brow. âDo you always do that?â
âDo what?â
âSlap your hand against windows to get peopleâs attention.â
You swept something off the table with your palm, and this sunshine-like laugh turned your entire face to sweetness, but it wasnât entirely earnest, and Wonwoo bit into his lip because you fucking terrified him. He caught your sparkling eye and wanted to melt.
âDid I scare you? Iâm so sorry.â
âNo, youâre good.â
âWhat are you working on?â
âA paper.â
Obviously, he was going to lie. Whether or not you could pick up on his lie was beyond Wonwooâs control at that point. He didnât know what you wanted, or why you were interrupting the flow of your very organized scheduling system to seemingly toy with him.
You didnât respond to his paper comment. There was a thick silence between you despite the distant clattering of dishes, bubbling coffee machines, and conversations that coalesced into one big buzz.
Wonwoo bit the bullet.
âSomething you want from me, yeah?â
âNot⌠exactly⌠I mean, after you left me at the SRX building, I wanted to get very angry about the whole situation. My day was terrible, and you responding to my idea with that sickly look on your face didnât help. But I thought about it. You said no. I canât ask anything more of you, yâknow? I have to respect what you said.â
âOh.â Wonwoo unclenched his fist, stretched out his long legs a bit more. âYeah, sure. I get it. Thanks for understanding.â
âI just didnât think my idea was that bad.â
âWell⌠no. Itâs not bad. Itâs not bad at all.â
A twitch to your lip suggested you didnât believe him. Wanting to clear the air a bit, Wonwoo stopped slouching. He sat straighter and lowered the lid of his laptop, inviting the space between you.
His mouth opened, and then closed.
Fuck, just breathe you idiotâhe cursed at himself.
You did that little head tilt thing, half-smiling at him, looking radiant underneath the cafĂŠ sunlight and so oddly patient with his tied-tongue that Wonwoo was miraculously able to find his words.
âThere is nothing wrong with your idea. I made it seem like there was. Iâm sorry. I just donât want to help you write a romance story, for personal reasons that would be useless explaining. But you seem very confident in everything you do. Iâm sure youâll be fine.â
âHm, well, thank you for believing in me. Romance can be a touchy subjectâI didnât think of that, and I get it⌠I guess I felt more insecure about your reaction because writing is the one thing I canât ace. I do need help with my story, even if I donât want it. Well, itâs just the truth, isnât it? There are some things I canât do!â
You chuckled at yourself, and Wonwoo thought it to be actually endearing. All your hard edges softened in that moment.
âSo, I havenât made any progress in my story, which sucks because Iâm operating by deadlineââ reaching into your bag, you unveiled a small, compact mirror, using it to remove something invisible from your eyelash, ââdo you have any writer friends that would help me?â
Wonwoo scratched his nose.
âUh, with the book?â
âYes.â
âNone.â
âWhat?â The mirror snapped shut as you gagged at him. âHow do you have no writer friends? Isnât that your major? Literature? Do you even have friends that arenât Seokmin?â
âIâm a math major for fucks sake.â
âYouâre fucking joking, Wonwoo. Please, tell me itâs a joke.â
He leaned back, folding his arms and propping an ankle onto his knee. You were still gaping at him, and he wanted to smirk.
âWhatâs wrong with math?â
âNothing. Math is⌠math,â you gritted, shoving the mirror back into your expensive-looking, gold-buckled bag, âbut why math? Why straight math? I thought you wanted to be a writer.â
âMan, Seokmin really didnât tell you fucking anything, did he?â Wonwoo chuckled. Or, maybe you had only heard the things you wanted to hear, which was what Wonwoo assumed.
âLike I have space in my brain to remember the multiverse of information that constantly comes out of his mouth.â
âSo what is there space for then?â
âYou're toeing a dangerous line.â
âWell, I like math and writing.â
"And what kind of papers would you be required to work on as a math major? Did you stumble across some quintessential theorem that nobody else really cares about except for you and all the other pocket-protector wearers out there? Or is this a Good Will Hunting scenario? Even betterâare you waiting for someone to walk by behind you and see all that really complicated mumbo-jumbo on your screen and think to themselves, 'woah, this guy is really smart. He's working on a paper with numbers, and I only work on papers with words. Where did I go wrong in my life?' so you can develop some sort of alternative complex that writing just isn't giving you?"
Wonwoo cocked his head at you, perplexed.
âWhat the absolute fuck are you talking about?â He felt a laugh in his chest, but he pushed it down. Wonwoo had never met anyone like you before. âYou made up everything you just said.â
âYes.â
âYes, what?â
âI go on tangents. Itâs just something I do.â
âDamn. I can tell.â Wonwoo rubbed at the corner of his eye and slipped the ankle off his knee, further spreading his legs. âYou like hearing the sound of your own voice, yeah?â
He always hated when people bothered him at the cafĂŠ, especially when he was trying to write. Today, it was different.
âWell, thatâs true.â You beamed at him so matter-of-factly, like it was obvious. âThe most beautiful sound in the world, isnât it?â
âMm.â
âThought so. Ugh, I just canât believe you have no writer friends to hook me up with.â He watched you slouch forward, slapping your arms across the table. âIâll have to go wait outside Gildan Hall and start ambushing all the smart-looking literature majors.â
Wonwoo found himself examining your perfect nail polish.
âGood luck with that.â
âCan you at least try to sound more sympathetic?â
âYou donât seem like a person who appreciates sympathy.â
âPft. According to who? I like being comforted when the time is right, and youâre not being very comforting.â You groaned into the table.
âYou like being comforted?â He scoffed.
Your head popped up, and you were pouting. âAt certain times, yes. Most times, no. Itâs a complicated system. No oneâs really cared enough to learn it except for Mingyu, and that was by force, and I think even he hates it. But Iâm not asking for the moon. Just a reasonably sized chunk of it. I have to be worth something, right?â
âWhatâs life without someone catering to your every whim at the drop of a hat, huh?â He couldnât help but mutter with sarcasm.
âYes, exactly! Seeâyou read my mind.â
Wonwoo bit his tongue.
âUgh, now whereâs my stupid phone?â
It was in your purse. Immediately, your eyes lit up.
âJesus Christ. Iâm gonna be late to my electrolysis!â
Like a burst of lightning, you shot up from your seat and quickly fixed the cream-white purse back over your shoulder. It reminded him of that time at the mall. One second you were engrained into a tangent, and the next you were scrambling about, attempting to recover the lost time in your meticulous schedule.
âIf you think of anyone, please text me!â
Wonwoo nodded his head.
Now, there was a vacant seat before him, left slightly tugged from the table due to your hectic departure. For a moment, he just sighed, feeling the breath emerge from somewhere so deep in his chest that it ached. That was the thing about youâin a confusing turmoil, you managed to fill him up when he felt empty, but then empty him once he felt full.
He didnât know what kind of person you were.
But there was an odd thrill to it that Wonwoo couldnât articulate.
âAPRIL 18TH.
Sat with Seokmin at the boyâs dining room table, Wonwoo popped a purple grape into his mouth while flipping a pencil between his fingers. The two had been staring plainly at their last problem from the math homework, but the question was horribly long, and his handwriting had morphed from legible penmanship to the most slurred hieroglyphics. Wonwoo wanted to dump a ramen packet into some boiling water and call it a night. Heâd devoured a whole stem of grapes. His head was pounding and his stomach growled for a meal.
âOh! You seeâthis is what gets me every time!â Seokmin exclaimed, leaned over his scattered papers, shoulders hunched with strain, âI mess up one multiplication in a matrix, and it screws me all up! Now I have to go overâuh! My fucking pencil just snapped.â
âGood,â Wonwoo mumbled, pressing a hand along the groove of his stiff neck, cracking it, âtake it as a sign to give up.â
âWeâre so close.â
Scooting the chair back to stretch his legs, Wonwoo then snatched his phone off the table. It was nearly ten at night.
âIâm hungry, and I donât care anymore.â
Seokmin sighed, âare you going to eat now?â
âYeah. Any ramen left?â
âItâs in the box sitting on top of the fridge. Soup broth is in the cupboard beside the microwave. I think thereâs some eggs, too.â
Wonwoo easily grabbed the noodle packet off the fridge. He asked his friend if he wanted a bowl as well, and Seokmin agreed, abandoning their math homework after his defeating pencil-snapping incident. While they waited for the water to start bubbling over the stovetop, Seokmin had joined Wonwoo in the kitchen, though he leaned against the counter, holding his phone six inches or so from his face. Wonwoo had never seen anyone text that fast.
Goshâhe didnât even need to ask who it was.
Noticing a few smudges on his glasses, Wonwoo lowered them down to the hem of shirt, beginning to massage the marks away.
âOur math final is the twenty-eighth, right?â Seokmin asked.
âShould be, yeah.â
âThanks. If itâs on the twenty-eighth then I can definitely go.â
Wonwoo slid the glasses back onto his nose.
âGo to what?
TaptaptaptapâSeokminâs fingers were practically electric.
âUh, this thing that Her is having⌠at her parentsâ house⌠like⌠a big dinner party⌠Iâm helping her plan it⌠just need to make sure⌠Iâm free those days⌠there! Okay, all settled.â
At last, Seokmin had clicked off his phone and slid the device back into the pocket on his sweatpants. Wonwoo folded his arms, staring at his friend with a deeply furrowed yet confused brow.
He sucked in a helpless breath.
âI donât get you, Seokmin.â
âWhatâwhy?â
A few hot droplets of water had leapt from the pot, slightly scalding Wonwooâs arm. He promptly ripped open the ramen packet and submerged the noodle brick, poking at it with chopsticks.
Wonwoo cleared his throat, âare you obsessed with her?â
Seokmin laughed, sounding astounded.
âNo, Iâm not obsessed. Iâm just helping. Weâre friends.â
âRight.â
âYou donât believe me?â
Setting the chopsticks beside the stove, Wonwoo turned around again, habitually crossing his arms low along the chest.
âI guess I donât understand what you get out of that relationship.â He admitted. âWhy canât she do shit herself?â
âHa!âThatâs an interesting question.â
âYou donât want to talk about it?â
âNo, itâs not that.â Seokmin lifted himself onto the kitchen counter, his head thumping back against the wooden cupboard. âI just wasnât expecting you to ask that. AndâI meant itâs interesting to see your interpretation of it. Like, my friendship with Her.â
Wonwoo nodded. He wasnât going to coax anything out of his friend that he wasnât already willing to say. In fact, Wonwoo had only begun talking to Seokmin back in the early, rainy days of September, since they ended up in the same discrete mathematics course and happened to choose seats right next to each other. Their bond had formed fairly quick, but they never really conversed about topics more intimate than school work and their own interests.
âIâm sorry,â Wonwoo said, âI shouldnât have asked.â
âNo, donât apologize. I mean, I totally get why youâre curious.â
Seokmin glanced down at his knees, scratched his chin.
âUhâwell, what did you say, anyway? Why canât her do shit herself? I mean, her life is super busy. Her momâs a writer and editor for that popular fashion and beauty magazine you always see at all those glamour storesâStunning Monthlyâsomething like that. Herâs dad is this business tycoon guy. He works with my dad, actually. Iâve known Her since high school. Our families are close, so naturally weâve spent a lot of time together. Her family picked up all their stuff and moved into Hillcrest on account of her dad needing to relocate for work.â
Wonwoo remained silent at the revelation, even though he was urged by curiosity to badger Seokmin with questions.
âBut, uhâwithout all my non-essential ramblingâthe relationship with her parents is tumultuous. Who doesn't have a shaky relationship with their parents, though? A few lucky souls, probably. But they've set things up for her quite well, in my opinion. Her mom got her a job at the Milestoneâthat fancy beauty place down Bank Street? She has a makeup chair from time to time and works reception. Sheâs definitely gonna graduate Cum Laude with some big fancy scholarship. Not to mention the little power couple thing sheâs got going on with Mingyu. She just tends to beâŚâ Seokmin winced, massaging his shoulder, âsheâs just a bit unpredictable. It would be way too easy for things to start falling all over the place. Sheâs a busy girl so I figure itâs nice to help her out. Keep things organized.â
Wonwoo bobbed his head, thinking.
âI guess Iâm curious about the book thing. I mean, if everything is so perfectly laid out for her, and sheâs so busy all the timeâŚ. why write a book? That takes months, extreme dedication, planning out the ass⌠itâs loving everything youâve written and then hating it so atrociously⌠I donât know,â he sighed, shrugging with confusion, âif I were her, writing a book would be the last thing on my mind.â
Folding his arms, Seokmin leaned back against the cupboards and agreed. âI know. But sometimes she just lurches onto random things out of nowhere. One year she practically turned her entire living room into a freakinâ art studio and I slipped on an open tube of paint on the floorânearly popped out my tail bone. To be fair, her passion projects never last long. She never has the time, as you said⌠I know youâre not helping her anymore. Sheâll probably drop it without help.â
âReally? Just like that?â
âYeah,â Seokmin answered, smiling, âjust like that.â
For some reason, Wonwoo gritted his teeth. He would hate for you to discard the feat so readily, just because he couldnât pitch in as initially planned. Yes, writing was not always a fruitful cherry blossom tree and sometimes chalking down one sentence was equivalent to a month of effort and squeezing out all the creative fibres in oneâs brain, but there was so much worth and occulted beauty to it at the same time. It was the art of expression.
Wonwoo thought it was quite cruel to deprive oneself of the ability to express and articulate things as they coursed through the fragile skin and the warm veins, and chiefly, the heart.
âAnyway, maybe I didnât really answer your question,â Seokmin laughed, âbut, yâknow, donât worry too much about turning down the book. Youâre right. Sheâs got more important things to focus on, as I was telling her over and over, andâoh! Fuck, the ramenâs bubbling!â
Wonwoo quickly twisted around as the water began spilling over the edge and sizzling like fried meat. He lifted the pot off the piping hot, orange element, to which Seokmin joined him, twisting the stove dial to a much lower heat. Blowing at the white froth, Wonwoo waited a precautionary minute before returning the pot.
Once dinner was ready, they gathered back at the dining table, entwining the noodles with their chopsticks and hardly allowing a second for the ramen to cool before they were shovelling in burning mouthful after mouthful. The bite in Wonwooâs stomach was gradually appeased. He soon felt warm, and full, and less tempered.
âSeokmin.â
âHm?â His friend glanced up from his phone.
âSoâŚâ Wonwoo leaned back in the chair, his fist clenched. âI guess whatâfrom what I understandâif I donât help Her, or if she doesnât find someone who can, then the book just wonât happen â
At his observation, Seokmin nodded, seeming unbothered.
âUh, yeah. Pretty much.â
âThatâs sad.â
âHey, you two just arenât destined for each other,â he replied, slurping his noodles, âyou were right back at the cafĂŠ.â
Picking up the white and blue patterned bowl, Wonwoo prepared to drink the broth, feeling the delicious heat fan back against his face. Once he finished eating and helping Seokmin with the dishes, he planned to catch a late-night bus back to his apartment above the quaint pottery shop. He didnât know if he would sleep or not.
Maybe, however, that would give him time to rethink some choices, even if he shouldnât trust the musings his brain happened to curate past nine at night. Especially any musings concerning you.
[ Wonwoo | 11:45 pm ]: Sorry to message you this late.
[ Wonwoo | 11:45 pm ]: Iâll keep it brief: Iâve given your book idea some thought, and if the offer still stands, Iâd like to help you write it. Though, I understand if you want someone elseâs help.
[ Wonwoo | 11:50 pm ]: Goodnight.
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 6:35 am ]: AHHHHHHHHHHH
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 6:35 am ]: good morninggg
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 6:35 am ]: no thatâs so perfect
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 6:37 am ]: okay. OMG. thereâs just so much we have to sort out. Iâm trying not to overwhelm myself lol
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 6:37 am ]: thank u for giving it more thought. Iâm excited to plan everything and see u again ofc :)
[ Wonwoo | 12:55 pm ]: Likewise.
âAPRIL 24TH.
Since last November, Wonwoo hadnât invited many guests to his apartmentânot even his older brother, who had never stepped foot into the building after Wonwoo originally signed the lease. Seokmin visited once or twice, but everything was curt, and while there had been one time that Vernon slept overnight on the couch, it was hardly notable.
Knowing that you were going to be at his apartment in a few hours was a very daunting thought. Consequently, Wonwoo had done something he hadnât properly completed in months: clean.
It wasnât like he just threw out the garbage and wiped down the kitchen counter either. He legitimately cleaned, picking over his apartment with a fine-tooth comb, not allowing one coffee cup or coaster to seem even vaguely incongruous. He fluffed out the couch pillows and vacuumed the floors. He went through his entire room, tidying up piles of clothes on the floor and aligning every book on his shelf. For the first time in months, Wonwoo threw open his heavy curtains, pure sunlight engulfing the space in such a bright glare that his eyes stung and he hardly recognized his own bedroom. Most importantly, he remembered to hide the pill bottle in his nightstand.
After all the anxiety-driven cleaning was done, Wonwoo collapsed onto the couch and stared plainly at the ceiling, the reality of what he just accomplished beginning to sink into his pores.
What the fuck?
He doubted you would care even microscopically if his apartment wasnât perfectly swept and polished and artistic like a photo from an interior design catalogue. But at the same time, it would have been impossible for him to leave it alone. The burst of productivity undoubtedly left Wonwoo rather hot and sweaty, so he opted to take a shower before you arrived. Standing beneath the cool water and taking slow, languid breaths helped ease his nerves.
And, for the first time in what he imaged to beâmonths, Wonwoo dried himself off with this feeling that everything was okay.
Not good. Definitely not great. But okay.
While he buttoned up a pair of blue jeans, Wonwoo heard his phone ding from his desk. Reaching over, he tapped the screen.
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:05 pm ]: hi, Iâm almost there
His chest fucking lurched.
Roughly jerking open his drawer, Wonwoo pulled out the first shirt he saw, tugging the white long-sleeve over his head before he wiggled his feet into a fresh pair of socks. Once Wonwoo found his glasses, he sat on the edge of his bed with his phone.
[ Wonwoo | 12:08 pm ]: Okay.
[ Wonwoo | 12:08 pm ]: Would you like me to come down?
Godâhe felt like his stomach was going to collapse.
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:08 pm ]: no thatâs okay :)
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:09 pm ]: itâs really pretty down here
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:12 pm]: sorry I was looking at some of the pottery / painting stuff. itâs the staircase down the hall, right?
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:12 pm ]: unit 102?
[ Wonwoo | 12:12 pm ]: Yes.
He reminded himself to breathe. Calm and slow and lifting the pressure that dug so bluntly into his lungs. The webs began to burn away. It had been a narrow escape, but it was successful.
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:13 pm ]: heyy, Iâm outside
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Wonwoo walked to the front door. His fingers brushed the knob in a flash of doubt, though his mind had already committed and now the door was pulled open and you were there, just as you said.
âWell, hello.â
He nodded at you, and then gestured for you to enter.
âWhere should I take off my shoes?â
âThereâs good,â Wonwoo answered, pointing to a textured mat in the corner that you proceeded to leave your simplistic heels on.
How absurd was this? Never in his life would Wonwoo imagine you at his apartment of all placesâthe one girl whom he adamantly tried to avoid because you were his gleaming opposite, and everything that you were, certain and in control, scared him. You were gazing around with your hands politely clasped together, ignited in the fulgurant sunlight, a small smile on your mouth.
âWow, youâre very clean.â
Wonwoo stepped after you, maintaining a shy distance.
âIt doesnât normally look this neat,â he admitted, watching you readjust the strap of your tote bag, âI did clean for you.â
You turned to face him, and your laughter filled the space with a refreshing, long lost tone that made everything brighter. His fist clenched up anxiously and he knew his cheeks were pinkening.
âUm, cleaned or power-washed?â
He merely stared at you. Why couldnât he fucking speak?
âJeez, donât look so afraid. Iâm joking. And I obviously appreciate the effort.â You spun back around, continuing to walk past the coffee table and toward the kitchen. âItâs a lovely place, and itâs definitely got your personal touch. Ohâthis is a cute mug.â
He breathed out, unfurling his hand and stretching his fingers until the air in his knuckles popped. You began wandering in the natural direction of the bedroom, and so Wonwoo followed, his eyes drifting up the jeans that hugged your legs and your sashaying hips, to back of your delicious-smelling hair. What was that scent, anyway?
Manuka honey?
But it was just a trivial glance, really.
Nothing meaningful.
âIs this your room?â You asked, stopping at the doorframe.
âIt is.â
Biting your lip, you peaked inside and started to grin.
âDo you care if I go in?â
 âNo.â
He tried not to crumble right there on the floor. Wonwooâs room was his sanctuary, a fortress, something that barred out everyone but himself and granted him the freedom to do whatever he pleased (whether it was self-detrimental or not). The thought of others in his room was a gash in that perfect sanctuary, in which he could see the walls bleed out all their comfort and familiarity. His ex was the last person to be in his room, typically sprawled across the bed with a good novel in her hand.
It was a sour, sour reminder.
âOh, and thereâs the bookshelf,â you pointed out, âhow fitting.â That penetrating gaze of yours roamed his desk and his bed and all his knickknacks in between. âHey, whyâs there a balcony outside?â You then asked, settling your hands onto the window frame and leaning out, the wind fluttering minimally through the layered curtains.
âJust a remodelling error,â Wonwoo explained, âit was supposed to be removed, I think. Never happened.â
Allured by curiosity, you leaned further out, examining the ladder that led up to the buildingâs roof. He looked at you again, specifically the arch in your back and the way your arms were planted so firm at the windowsill. He looked at the sunlight rippling on your cheek and your lips that appeared to sparkle, like you had kissed glitter.
âYou definitely go up there, right?â
âYeah.â
Half-shutting the window as to keep the breeze flowing, you chuckled. âI figured⌠so, I guess we should stop dawdling and get to the meat and potatoes. Is here a good spot? Or do you want to go back to the living room?â
âWeâre in my room anyways,â Wonwoo commented, pulling out his desk chair and promptly sitting down, âso, why not.â
âCool. Let me get my laptop.â
You slipped the tote bag off your arm and sat on the edge of his freshly made bed, being careful not to rumple the sheets.
âOkay!â Your hands echoed a series of soft claps. âIâm all ready now. Iâll try my best not to rambleâoh, and please, please donât interrupt me until Iâm done. Iâm going to be very pissed if I lose my train of thought and Iâd like this meeting to remain pleasant.â
Wonwoo nodded. âI know.â
You flashed him a brief smile.
âSo, as you know, Mingyu and Iâs fifth year anniversary is coming up in December. My gift to him is this so far nonexistent book. Weâve been through a lot as a couple, and as individuals, and I want the book to fully capture this journey weâve been on and how much I⌠appreciate him. Also, Iâm going to introduce a second, special elementââ a hand plunged into your tote bag and suddenly a video camera was revealed, ââI want to record some of our brain sessions, and, like, our voyage of figuring this shit out. I like mementos. I hope thatâs okay.â
â⌠Do I answer?â
âYes.â
âOh. Then, yeah. Iâm okay with it.â
âSecondlyyyââ you lilted while scrolling a little ways down the notepad on your laptop, the video camera stuffed back into your flower-and-honeybee-patterned tote, ââthere are a few places weâll need to visitânot the actual places that Mingyu and I went to since we grew up nowhere near hereâbut places that more so have a strong resemblance to the ones in my memory. I feel like it will help me with visual aspects of the writing. Iâm a very visual person. Yâknow, setting up the scene and technical things like that. I like touching and feeling and seeing and breathing everything in. I want all my senses on fire, basically. Like⌠the way your lips feel after eating insanely hot noodles.â
âYeah, thatâs fine.â
Wonwoo didnât really care. He just agreed.
âLastly, I want to make a schedule for us. So, Iâm kindly asking you to set up a schedule of your ownâwork shifts, doctorâs appointments, testsâthe like, so I can incorporate them into my own hectic life and make us one colourful, super writing schedule.â
And then, with a big, winded sigh, you shut your laptop.
âThatâs it. Done. Thoughts?â
Honestly, the entire premise didnât sound all that terrible. He had braced himself for the worst, but you were unsurprisingly organized and had pinpointed all your desires quite clearly. Of course, he knew it was going to be sheer hellâflames up to his knees and desert sun beating on his skin like a hot skillet frying butter. You were structured and dedicated and Wonwoo was none of those things.
No doubt, Wonwoo would have to learn to deal with you.
You would either be his trigger or his pulse.
But, even worse, you would have to learn to deal with him.
âIâm just following your lead on this,â Wonwoo announced, lacklustre of much interest, resting his hands against his stomach while he rotated back and forth in the swivel chair, âwhatever you want me to do, Iâll do it. How soon do you want the schedule thing?â
âLike, as soon as possible.â
âOkay.â
âDo you really have no questions?â
Wonwoo scratched the side of his head.
âUh, have you got anything written down yet?â
âYes,â you propped open your laptop again, âan intro.â
âOh, really?â
âDonât question me. It was already difficult enough to write it, and I agonized over it for hours.â You pouted, slumping slightly.
He shifted up straighter in the desk chair.
âIâm sorry. I was just wondering. Itâs good you started.â
âOh. Thank you.â
Wonwoo tilted his head at you. âDo I get to read it?â
Your feet crossed and twirled together. He didnât think you had any nervous ticks, but that was something easy to pick up on.
âUm, not yet. Not until we officially start.â
âOkay.â He answered with a gentle voice, noticing your swaying feet still again and a bit of rigidity dissipate from your body.
Well, he didnât really know what to do at this point. Wonwoo suspected you were constrained by more tasks for today and your time with him was limited. Itâs not that you were sitting in an awkward, stifling silence, but he would rather occupy himself with something rather than nothing, because nothing left his heart to race.
âAre you hungry?â He asked.
Glancing up from the laptop, you shook your head. âI ate before I came here.â
âAre you going to be leaving soon?â
At that, your face crinkled with laughter. âSick of me already?â
Wonwoo crossed his arms. âNo. Just asking.â
âWell, I have a wax appointment soon. Iâll be leaving in ten minutes or so.â Finally, you looked up, and your eyes clicked with his in a way that made the fine hairs along his neck prickle coolly. âDoes that answer your question?â A subtle grin pulled at your soft lips.
âIt does, yes.â
âYou donât like having people in your room, do you?â
He huffed at the observation and delved a hand through his black hair, feeling the dampness slide against his fingers. âNot particularly.â
âYou should have just said that.â Rising off his bed, you closed the laptop and shoved it back into the tote bag.
Wonwooâs entire chest jerked. It felt like a ten-story drop.
âAre you leaving?â
âMm, I donât want to intrude.â
âYouâre not intruding.â
Why did his throat close up just then? Why did his vocal cords abruptly feel so coarse and tight? Why was his heart hammering? He didnât mean to project the wrong impression. He didnât hate you in his room. It just felt misplaced, and new. Like picking up a puzzle piece from the box and attempting to jam it into a different puzzle.
âItâs fine. Seriously. I should be early, anyway.â
Wonwoo stood up, realizing he needed to breathe. âUm⌠would you like me to walk you down?â
You stopped on your way out, faced him with a pretty smile.
âThatâs okay.â
But then you did something rather strange; your hand sank into his firm upper arm and suddenly you were leaning into him, so carelessly close that he could feel the fanning, light warmth of your breath against his neck. Wonwooâs head started to spin, and he thought a cloud had enveloped the room because his vision fuzzed.
âSorry,â you took a step back, removing your hand, âyou just smell really good. Like an ocean or something. It reminds me of this beach in Puta Cana. But your hairâs all damp and fluffy so thatâs probably why. That was weird. Iâm sorry.â Again, you laughed.
Why the fuck did you do that? He was almost angry. But not at you. At himself. For reacting in such a giddy, stupid way. Your touch and breath had burned him and there was this sharp, cutting flare inside Wonwoo that didnât want to let you leave.
âAll goodâŚâ he mumbled, sounding groggy and slow.
âIâll see myself out then. Bye!â
And with a final chirp, you left, the front door closing in the distance while he could only stand there, shuddering and strangely hot and beyond confused. Wonwoo moved to swing the heavy curtains shut, the entire room succumbing into its usual shadiness. He sat on the edge of his very neat bed, removed his glasses, and buckled over while rubbing his veiny, pale hands through his hair.
The feeling was so lost and suppressed to his memory.
Wonwoo didnât even know what it was.
He was relieved you were gone, but he also wished that you were still there, leaning out his open window with the wind and sunshine in your face. It was a sight so sweet and equally intimate.
Who are you?
What are you doing in his meaningless life?
âAPRIL 28TH.
Wonwoo had finished his math final with half an hour to generously spare, and now, he was sitting, bored, sketching his pencil against the last page of the thick packet. The professor wouldnât care.
Hopefully.
On one hand, Wonwoo knew he should really just stand up and hand the damn thing in, but on the other hand, he hatedâno, abhorred being the first person to return a test, especially an exam at that. Wonwoo was pretty smart. He knew that about himself and he never bothered to maintain the guise he wasnât. Still, Wonwoo wasnât pretentious. If he had to wait until the final fucking minute to hand the packet in, solely to avoid being the first student up, then so be it.
Besides, there wasnât anything too pressing that required his immediate attentionâminus the pertinent schedule he was supposed to make and have sent to you approximately three days ago. You had called him last night, to which the phone crackled with a loud, static bark of his name as you admonished him for his lateness.
âI told you three days ago I wanted the schedule! Three days! I canât believe this. Whatâs so hard about making a schedule? Beep boop, you press some buttons on your laptop and itâs done. It would take ten minutes tops! Ugh, Iâm so done with you, Wonwoo. In fact, donât call me backâdonât even text me until you have the schedule!â
And then the line had collapsed, leaving Wonwoo to stare rather expressionlessly at his phone screen, the boy huffing out a breath of tendrilled smoke while he relaxed on the apartment roof. That had been his first experience sat on the receiving end of your seasoned quips, and it left him with this very profound emptiness, like his insides had been scooped out and the shell of his body was nothing but a wooden nesting doll. It had been such a long time since he genuinely cared about disappointing someone. Wonwoo had grown far too complacent with the feeling of disappointing himself.
That would never motivate him to do anything.
But you were different. In the sense that Wonwoo mostly remained proactive out of fear you might bite his head off.
From somewhere near the back of the room, Wonwoo heard chair legs scraping, and he eagerly flexed his fingers while observing a girl with the slickest ponytail heâd ever seen march past him to the professorâs desk. She set her packet down. He thanked her. She left.
Jesus Christ. Finally.
âAll finished, Wonwoo?â His professor mumbled in a tone that hardly escaped his own lips, glancing up at the boy expectantly.
Pushing up his glasses, Wonwoo nodded.
âI suppose itâs harder for you to sit there and wait than it is to write the actual exam, isnât it?â The professor noted with an almost undetectable smirk as he slid the test packet inside a tan-coloured folder, to which Wonwoo turned January cold.
âI donât know.â Wonwoo shrugged, pretending to feel unbothered when in reality his skin was slithering like a snake pit at the thought of being even marginally perceived. âMaybe.â
âYou have a good summer, alright?â
âThanks. You too.â
Wonwoo swept a quick glance over the classroom right before he left, noticing that Seokmin was sat beside the wall, one hand tangled tight into his black, ruffled tresses as his pencil scribbled all over the paper like he was writing pure nonsense. He probably was.
And Wonwoo meant that in a nice-this isnât really your sweet spot, but youâll manage nonetheless-way. After leaving the classroom, Wonwoo thought he might go home and plunge head first into his oasis of bedsheets and flat, foam pillows that he loved so much, and permit himself to decay until it was physically impossible to lie down any longer. But he decided against it at the last minute, turning up at the cafĂŠ instead with his shoulder-strung book bag and the timely urge for a scone. He then sat down at his favourite table.
Pulled out his laptop.
Opened the document he was at incessant war with.
The last scene heâd written was breakfast.
âUh, okay. Orange juice⌠or orange juice?â
âDid you say orange juice?â
âI did.â
âSo⌠chocolate milk?â
âHa! Funny... is there any sort of correlation between being a complete nerd and making such well-woven jokes?â
âNot sure. But Iâll get back to you when I find out⌠thanks. Your tea is sitting on the island, by the way.â
âThank you, Won. Ohâyou even put it in my Woodstock mug!â
âYes, why are you so surprised that I remember?â
âBecause itâs always hidden at the back of our cupboard, behind ten other mugs that we certainly donât need and all our plates. I mean, I guess itâs my fault. Half of them are from my mom.â
âItâs sweet.â
âIt takes up too much space. But I canât tell her no.â
âThat, youâve got to work on.â
âThe Christmas thing isnât happening anymore, if that helps. I think the thought of having to cram all my family into our living room for a night was what motivated me the most. My mom said sheâll send us poinsettias instead. I think thatâs way easier.â
âOh yeah?â
âYes. Believe it or not, I can assert myself. Sometimes.â
âNo, no. I do believe you. Iâm proud. Okayâbottoms up.â
âHowâs the combination of venlafaxine and orange juice?â
âI donât know. Juicy?â
âBetter juicy than anxious?â
âYou could say that.â
Right, back when Wonwoo actually had the willpower to make himself breakfast rather than slapping a mixed berry Poptart into the toaster or worse, nothing at all. Back when he could wake up before noon without feeling nauseous enough to curl into a ball and drape the sheets over his aching head. Back when he actually took his medicine. Her face beaming at him from across their table had always been like a glass of sunlight and citrus. She had been his own vitamin.
Wonwoo knew he wasnât going to write. He was just going to stare and mope and ensnare himself in the pinwheel of memories that blew over him whenever he had the gall to reread his past literature.
The Woodstock mug. Sheâd taken that with her. Â
He decided it was strange and sometimes irritating how love, broken or not, could suture itself into even the most mundane things. Orange juice was just thatâjuiceâthe carton he used to pick up and impetuously drop into his grocery cart every so often. Now, it wasnât juice at all, but slow mornings, steaming tea kettles, and reading together on the couch with legs all tangled up until lunch time.
Now, Wonwoo couldnât drink it at all.
Breaking the lemon raspberry scone in half, Wonwoo dropped a flaky piece into his mouth before it got too cold, and then proceeded to close the document. There was no way in hell he would write, and while he loved drowning in his own misery in order to snuff any glimpse of productivity more than the average individual, he thought it might be worthwhile to finally start that schedule.
[ Wonwoo | 8:20 pm ]: schedule.pdf
[ Her | 8:56 pm ]: thanks
[ Her | 8:56 pm ]: donât piss me off again
âAPRIL 30TH.
For an April morning, it was surprisingly bright. The sun was out in full and glistering warmth by the time Wonwoo stepped onto the sidewalk and began pacing down to the park, practically needing to squint the entire way. He almost hated it. Early mornings were not his friend, nor were the blades of light cutting across his glasses. But today was his first writing session with you and Wonwoo knew it was more than crucial that he was the furthest thing from tardyâit would be akin to willingly setting his hands inside a burning fire if not.
You agreed to meet at the park since it was roughly equal distance between Wonwooâs apartment and some breakfast place you wanted to stop at. He thought it was uncharacteristically thoughtful of you to shoot him a text asking if he wanted anything, though Wonwoo declined nonetheless. It was damn near impossible for him to eat a bite of food until lunch time, hence his expression softening in confusion when he at last climbed into the passenger seat of your sleek silver car and was greeted by you passing him a cold tea.
âAm I⌠holding this for you?â He wondered, sitting still.
You shook your head. âNo. Itâs yours.â
âI didnât ask for anything.â
âYes, I realize that. I can read, thank you.â
Wonwoo wasnât going to argue. He simply shut his mouth, clicked on his seatbelt, and set the tea into the cup holder. He then began looking around at your carâs interior. Everything was exceptionally clean and smelled sugary, like iced gingerbread.
The thing was, Wonwoo still wasnât very sure how to talk to you, and most often there was the stiffest frog in his throat whenever he sat around you in silence for too long. Your thumbs were tapping against your phone at light speed. It reminded him of how Seokmin was texting you back at the boyâs apartment when they were studying for finals. Wonwoo couldnât help but wonder if Seokmin was naturally more inclined to respond to you out of friendship or fear. Maybe even a pinch of both if that was possible. Another quiet minute passed by.
âOkay, fuck, sorry,â you suddenly spluttered at random, quickly slotting your phone into the GPS holder, âjust some shit with my mom. Um, okay. Yeah. We can get going.â
âAll good," Wonwoo answered.
âYou know where weâre off to?â
âVaguely. The track by Caldwell High School.â
He watched you flit him a smile. âThatâs the place. Iâll explain more once we get there. And, by the way, I am expecting you to drink that tea. Itâs not anything crazy. Itâs oolong. Only a bit of caffeine.â
âI drink coffee, you know.â
âYes, and it probably makes you jittery and insufferable.â
Wonwoo preferred not to comment.
The car ride wasnât too long. Actually, Wonwoo did love a good car ride. He remembered the long trips he used to take with his family to the water park when he was a child, the sensation of the breeze blowing into his face and how different shades of green would scatter in through the windows as the sun hit the tree leaves like emeralds. There was something so limerent and sadly distant about the memory that Wonwoo felt his chest hurt. Even if he were to take that same road, and smell the same breeze, and see his skin glow with the same hues of the forest, he doubted it would feel the same.
His mouth had gone awfully dry. Wonwoo then reached for the cold tea sitting in the cup holder and took a sip, suddenly very appreciative that you had thought to get him something, anyway.
And while he couldnât be too certain, Wonwoo wanted to think that maybe this would be a good memory, too.
After the half-hour long car ride, Wonwoo made sure to stretch when he stepped out into the empty parking lot. It was cloudier now, a bit more of a breeze to help counteract the warmth that remained in the air. You came around to join him, twisting out a cramp in your leg while adjusting the purse over your shoulder.
The walk to the track field wasnât long, no more than a few minutes, and Wonwoo obediently trailed at your side until he witnessed the bleachers slowly coming into view. It resurfaced memories from his own high school days in PE, which Wonwoo had actually been quite successful at despite his distaste for sports and their atmosphere in general. He remembered liking kickball the best.
You sighed in a wistful tone while staring across the marked asphalt and fresh April grass. âAll high school tracks look the same, donât they?â Then, you carefully set your purse onto the bleachers.
Wonwoo rolled his shoulders, taking a more observant look around. It wasnât strikingly different from the track at his high school.
âSure. I guess.â
âI mean, there are some differences. We had ditches by our track. Come to think of it, I honestly believe they put them there for kids to hurl in from heat stroke or over-exertion⌠thatâs what I did, anyway. It was right before I had to do triple jump. I hated it because you had to really build up speed. I didnât want to run. So, even if I hadnât thrown up from heat stroke, I probably wouldâve made myself throw up some other way. Straight to the nurse. She gave me a popsicle.â
He glanced at you sideways. âSeriously?â
âMmhm.â
âYouâd rather throw up than hop, like, three times?â
âI said it was the running part I didnât like.â
Wonwoo couldnât imagine purposefully making himself upchuck in order to get out of something. If his anxiety was terrible enough, then he wouldnât even have to worry about it, really.
That was its own mechanism of disaster.
âRunning is eighty-percent of Activity Days," Wonwoo said.
You clicked your tongue at him. âExactly. And Iâd do anything to never run. I tried to sit in one time with the seventh graders. They were in their art block and they were doing painting under the trees; birdhouses or something. But their teacher kicked me out. And she didnât even let me take the fucking birdhouse that I was painting.â
âThe nerve,â Wonwoo answered, scratching his temple.
He proceeded to take a seat on the metal bench, rubbing his hands together. He still didnât know how Mingyu fit into everything.
âSo⌠whatâs your plan, here?â
You sat next to him, folding one leg over your thigh and proceeding to reveal a journal that you had stuffed inside your expensive bag. The tips of your fingers skimmed through a few fluttering pages, until you stopped on one in particular that was ink-abused with cursive scribbles. Wonwoo assumed you did most of your planning on a laptop, hence his surprise to learn that you actually used a journal. He had a journal himself, though it hadnât been touched in months. It mostly contained small poetic excerpts.
Next, you pulled out a pen.
âThis is how I first ran into Mingyu. At my schoolâs track field. He was new and good at all the activities. I swear, his name spread like wildfire. Anyways, I havenât figured out all the bits and bobs. I want to really soak in the feeling ofâoh!â Suddenly, you grasped the journal back onto your lap, the pen hitting the paper in a cursive ribbon that Wonwoo could hardly read. âI just thought of a great line. His eyes, I wanted to soak in them, like an oasis.â
You stabbed the paper again to make a period.
âNot bad,â Wonwoo commented.
âOkay, here it is!â A black case was pulled from your purse, and once you unzipped it, Wonwoo realized it was the video camera that you had initially shown him at his apartment. âOkay, I want you to film some stuff. The field, obviously. I need it from different perspectives. It will help me with setting the scene later on.â
âWhy do I have to film it?â
âBecause, Seokmin told me youâre quite handy with film equipment stuff, and I donât want to drop it. So just do it, please?â
Accepting the video camera from your hand, Wonwoo sighed in agreement. Flipping open the side-screen of the camera, Wonwoo began clicking some buttons and adjusting the focus. Luckily, he was familiar with the particular camcorder thanks to a film education course heâd taken outside of school.
While you busied yourself at the bleachers with starting up your laptop, Wonwoo began collecting footage, slowly panning the camera across the vast length of the gravel track and the grassy soccer fields situated beyond. He kept a concentrated eye on the side-screen to ensure the lighting wouldnât change too drastically. A wind had picked up from over the forest, and he could see how the clouds were consequently being pushed along like herded sheep in the sky.
Once he brushed back the floppy, black hair that kept tickling his face, Wonwoo lowered the camera and turned to you.
âSo, where else should I film?â
You were typing something, and didnât bother looking up.
âGo across the field. Film from the other side.â
âSeriously?â
âYeah.â
âI have to go all the way over there?â
âYes. Walk, crawl. Skip, hop. I donât care. Just do it, please.â
âJesus Christ,â he huffed out, feeling tired and yearning to go home, âI hate how seriously youâre taking this, yâknow that?â
Your fingers continued blitzing against the keyboard.
âNobody likes a complainer.â
Ironic, he thought, but obviously kept to himself.
There wasnât a point in expecting any sympathy from youâthat, he already knewâwhich engendered Wonwooâs long, trudging walk from one side of the track to the other, the wind irritably blowing his grown-out locks over his glasses every time he attempted sweeping them back. Hoisting the camera back up, Wonwoo adjusted the side-screen and began his same ritual of steadily panning the camera along the landscape.
You appeared in the view, still sat on the bleachers, though nothing about your face or figure was too discernible. It felt like you were a background character in a painting, just a little glob of acrylic.
âAll done?â
Finally, you had glanced up at him with a smile.
Wonwoo nodded. âUnless you need anything else filmed?â
âNo, that should be enough. The track is most important.â
âRight.â
He tried giving back the camera.
âActually, do you mind keeping it?â
âUm, okay. But how will you look at the footage?
âDropbox. Weâll share one. Upload the clips there.â
Wonwoo plopped himself back down on the bench, fitting the camcorder into its black case. He pulled the zipper along the seam.
âHow much longer do we need to be here?â
âNot that much. Just let me finish this paragraph.â
There was a dull pain throbbing at the front of his skull, edging down to his templesâacross his nose bridge where his glasses pressed in more tightly than usual. He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled a deep breath, trying to escape the feeling, the nausea, the chills that were beginning to seep up his neck as the wind blew turbulently against him. It would be embarrassing if this happened here, right in front of you. The hard lump had suddenly lurched forward in Wonwooâs throat but he leaned his head down last minute and swallowed it despite the roughness. No, everything was okay.
âHey, whatâs wrong?â
Wonwoo opened his eyes, staring down at the trembling hands buried in his lap. Subtly, he pulled the sleeves of his cardigan over them. He assumed his face was reflecting a sheer, sickly opacity.
âNothing.â
âUh, sure. Now look me in the eyes and say that.â
Again, Wonwoo swallowed, but he managed nonetheless.
âNothingâs wrong. I get headaches sometimes. Thatâs all.â
â⌠Oh. Well, Iâm basically done here. I was gonna ask if you wanted to walk a lap around the track with me, but maybe we should just go home. I mean, how bad is it? Your headache?â
Yes, yes. Home. Wonwoo wanted to go home. He had only been away from his apartment for a solid two hours, and yet all his mind and bodyâs energy had completely drained. He felt dried out, withered, fragile as tempered glass. Going home sounded cosmic.Â
âItâs getting better. I wouldnât mind walking with you.â
âOh! Cool. If it gets really bad, just tell me.â You then spent a minute collecting your belongings back into the cream purse.
Wonwoo immediately looked the other way, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair, mouthing a string of guttural curse words directed at his discombobulated head. Because what the hell was he doing? All his relief and peace had just suckled itself down an invisible drain. Why on earth did he agree? Why?
âI think this will help me, too," you said, having left the shiny bleachers behind, instead kicking the pebbles at your feet, âif we walk the entire track, then itâs like we did the four-hundred meter.â
âYouâre supposed to run the four-hundred meter.â
âWell, I know that.â
âIâm surprised you hate running. I mean, you walk so fucking quickly sometimes.â
He heard you snort, clearly amused by his observation.
âItâs because Iâve mastered the art of sashaying. To have a perfect sashay, you canât walk too slow, but you also canât walk too fast. Itâs like a strut. You need to have confidence while you do it. It lets people know that youâre serious and professional. Iâm not dragging my feet, but Iâm also not in a rush. Itâs the perfect pace.â
Wonwoo sniffled and scrunched the glasses up his nose, continuing alongside you at a pace that was rather aimless.
âI didnât realize there was a science behind sashaying.â
âNow you know,â you declared.
Wonwooâs upper lip quirked slightly, and a small grin appeared on his face, which was starting to dapple with colour.
âI donât sashay, do I?â
At that, you laughed, âno, you amble.â
âYeah, Iâm an ambler⌠which basically means Iâm an unmotivated, pointless person who will probably go nowhere in life.â
For a moment, you stopped walking, and you merely furrowed your brow at him while your forehead creased with thought. Wonwoo stopped as well. He raked back his fluttering, windswept hair and smirked, flashing his teeth. The behaviour was uncharacteristically snide and a bit of a dig at your bluntness, but he couldnât help it.
âDonât remember, huh?â
âNo⌠but it sounds familiar.â
âYou told me that, the day I met youâthat people who walk slowly are unmotivated and pointless. Their life is a waste, basically.â
He noticed your eyes shift up toward the right, as though you were pulling the memory forward from the intricate files of your brain. And then you started to smile, and it made Wonwoo smile, too.
âOh, I do believe I said that.â You started walking again, and he followed. âHa! Wow, youâre right. I said that. Iâm so funny. I mean, I was right. You only walk slow when you have nowhere to be.â
âI did have somewhere to be. I was going to meet you.â
âWell, then you just didnât care.â He felt your elbow press shallowly into his rib. âSee what I mean? Unmotivated and pointless. And, honestly, I would have taken your apathy as more of an insult if it wasnât for the fact that you seem to treat most things like that.â
âSo, Iâm just supposed to accept that youâre calling me a loser? How do people normally react when you say things like that?â
âThings like what? Theyâre just my observations about the world. You are a person in this world. I was making an observation about you. Albeit, it came across strongly. But I donât know. No one ever cared about being gentle or sugar-coating with me. Gives you tough skin, yâknow? Metaphorically, of course! I always moisturize.â
 Wonwoo scoffed, smiling at your nonchalance. âThe way you word things is honestly fascinating.â
âPsh. How do you even remember that?â
âI donât know. Doesnât seem that hard to remember. It was a pretty memorable, somewhat awful experience, to be fair.â
âAwful?â You retaliated in unprecedented disbelief, pushing into his arm until he allowed his tall frame to stumble. âTry again.â
âInteresting?â Wonwoo substituted, his heart thumping.Â
Your eyes were narrowed at him, glimmering with a sharpness that made his fingers clench into anxious fists.
â⌠Thatâs a little better.â
He exhaled a soft breath of relief.
As you began nearing the full circle, Wonwoo realized his head had eased from its horrible aching and the chills dampening down his neck were gone. Everything didnât feel as awful compared to before. He was still tired, and his energy was sputtering in tiny, dying sparks, but at least his desire to crawl under the earth and degrade to his bare bones had subsided into something less morose.
âI heard you were having a get together next week,â Wonwoo decided to ask, rounding the last bend in the track.
âOh, the dinner party?â
âYeah. Seokminâs helping you plan it, right?â
âHe is. Which I appreciate. My mom is usually the one in charge of everything, and she loathes it. But, I mean, when we try to help her, she just ends up fretting even moreâsays weâre basically getting in the way and ruining it. I donât know. Sheâs such a snappy perfectionist. Seokmin can have fun dealing with that.â
Wonwoo almost made a thoughtless comment in response to your storyâheâs probably had eons of practice with youâthough the pieces connected just in time and his mouth sealed shut.
âYour dad canât help either?â He questioned instead.
âHa! No way. My dad helping is a recipe for fucking disaster if Iâve ever seen it. Heâs painfully bad at decorating, can hardly be trusted to cook or invite anyone from the guest list. The most my mom allows him to do is set the table.â You then scoffed, shooting a pebble forward with the tip of your shoe. âI swear, he knows exactly how to push my momâs buttons. The faster he does it, the quicker she kicks him out and heâs absolved of all chores. What a cheat, huh?â
âHm, yeah⌠is Mingyu going?â
âOf course.â You smiled. âHe always goes.â
At that point, you had circled back to the bleachers. Adjusting the bag strewn over your shoulder, you heaved out a longing sigh.
âWell, thatâs four-hundred meters in the books.â
âIs it everything you hoped and dreamed it would be?â
You cackled, ânot even close. I think I was right to avoid it.â
âMAY 3RD.
Wonwoo slid his pharmacy badge through the time-machine until he heard the beep. After an eight-hour shift, he was hungry and tired, but Wonwoo also knew the second that he got home, his urge to eat and desire to sleep would be gone. Instead, he would spend his midnight staring up at the ceiling, thinking. About anything and everything, and nothing at all. When the first cracks of dawn light would spill in from under his curtain, then he would close his eyes.
It was all very typical.
He stood outside the store, phone in hand, waiting for Vernon to pick him up because Wonwoo hadnât felt like walking home despite the softness of the nighttime wind and the alabaster moonâs shining ambiance. The mirage was pretty and he enjoyed it, but his feet were too sore to inch him another step. Luckily, Vernon didnât take long.
Luckily, he was the only one of Wonwooâs few friends with a sleep schedule just as horridly fucked up as his. It was eleven at night, but on a weekday? The dead, empty street testified for him.
âHeyy, Glasses,â Vernon sang in his throaty voice as Wonwoo climbed into the passenger seat, âyou look like a prostitute standinâ there, waitinâ for me to come get your ass. But a sophisticated one.â
The interior didnât smell heavily of weed, he noted. Thank fucking god, Vernon had finally paid someone to dry clean it. Either that, or he took the initiative into his own hands.
âI highly doubt you have ever seen a prostitute in your entire life. And the fact you think theyâd be standing outside a pharmacy at one of the quietest parts on this block attests to that.â
âGod, I hate when you get all technical nâ shit. Such a stiff.â
âIâm tired.â
âYeah, well. Youâre always tired. Nâ for the record, I have seen a prostitute, outside Room 319. It was a week before Christmas; she had this huge coat on, walkinâ up to people in her pink heels and this crazy eyeshadow that made her eyes pop. I bet sheâs a nice girl.â
âMhm. I bet she was.â
âOh, youâre a cunt, yeah? You donât believe me.â
âDoes it matter?â
âIâll take you one day. Room 319âs got a table with your name on it. Theyâve got this one shot, the Stabilizerâ itâll put you down like a fuckinâ sick dog but it gets you the best drunk of your life. Maybe weâll even run into Pink Heels lady. Sheâs our Halleyâs Comet.â
âHalleyâs Comet only comes once every seventy-five years. â
âYou know what the fuck I meant.â
âNot interested.â
Vernon blinked at him for a moment in the dull light, and then he sighed, forfeiting. He placed the tip of the key in the ignition, but he quickly removed it as though he remembered something.
âWait, Iâve gotta askâhowâs it going with Her?â
Biting down on the inside of his cheek, Wonwoo reached for the seatbelt and pulled it slowly across his chest, debating how intelligent of an idea it would be to entertain Vernonâs curiosity. But he could also understand the allure. You were like this enigmatic myth that people craved to know about, even if it frightened them.
Wonwooâs head collapsed back against the seat.
âItâs going well.â
Vernon spat out a boisterous laugh, a hand slapping down on his knee. âJesus Christ. Youâre so dry, man. Thatâs it?â
âI mean, itâs true. Weâve started the book. Or, she has.â
âOkay, and?â Vernon attempted to engage him further.
âAnd, what?â
âWhatâs she like, obviously? Is she actually a fuckinâ psychopath? Is she normal? Can she walk on her hands? I dunno!â
Wonwoo rubbed underneath his glasses. He didnât really want to talk about you when you werenât there. It felt like a Bloody Mary situation, where youâd magically conjure in the backseat to sinch your cold hands around his neck and wrangle him limp and lifeless. But then there were Vernonâs shimmeringly prying eyes that just wouldnât stop burning Wonwoo no matter how hard he bit his tongue.
âI have nothing to say. Sheâs cool.â
âOh my fuckinâ God.â Vernon slacked back into his seat, clutching at his steering wheel. âYou just donât wanna talk about it⌠oh! Shit. I just remembered. Sheâs having a dinner party tonight, isnât she? In Hill Crest. Or as I like to call it, Rich People Neighbourhood.â
âYeah, thatâs where her parents live⌠how do you know that?â
âShit!â Vernon immediately shuffled up in his seat and delivered a hard smack into Wonwooâs shoulder. âWe should drive down and check it out! Right fuckinâ now!â He was lit up with excitement, even though Wonwoo considered it a terrible idea.
âNo. Absolutely not. And answer my question.â
âWas sittinâ behind Seokmin at Solar Pop, he talks really loud, happened to overhear some thingsâdoesnât matter. I think we should go! Câmon, allow some spontaneity into your life! Why not?â
âWhat the fuck do you mean, why? Itâs a family party. With some close friends, whichâin case you havenât noticedâneither of us are. You canât fucking crash a family dinner party. Who does that? Not to mention the fact that it's eleven at night. They're probably washing up. Sending people home. By the time we get there, it's lights out."
âArenât you her friend?â
âNo. Iâm just someone whoâs doing her a favour.â
âFavours are from friends.â
âWeâre. Not. Friends.â
âOkayâfuck, Glasses. Fine. We wonât crash the stupid dinner party. But donât you wanna go for a drive or something? Iâm tellinâ you, the houses are insane. Last time I went down there, it was for a big fuckinâ party some dude at your university threw. I think I ran this by you already, when I talked about tryinâ to chat up Her. I stopped by with my old friendâyâknow, Dots, the guy that died from the overdose and everything. That party was crazy. It was in a mansion.â
âVernon,â Wonwoo had just finished massaging the throbs at his warm temples, âwe are not going to Hill Crest.â
His friend swung his head in disapproval, making a tsking sound with his teeth. âSuch a fuckinâ stiff.â He started the car. âItâs the fact I know you have jack shit to do tonight, or tomorrow.â
âIâm not gonna do some stalker drive-by on her house.â
âYou donât wanna do Room 319. You donât wanna judge a bunch of richies sittinâ up in their ivory towers. I mean, itâs not like weâre egginâ them or spray painting fuckinâ curse words on their eight-door garages. What do you wanna do?â
Wonwoo rolled down the window and leaned his face toward the moonlight, to which he could feel the wind brush up against his skin in feathery strokes, as though it were caressing him. He knew that Vernon meant in a general sense rather than in the heat of the moment. But in a general sense, Wonwoo would rather not be anywhere at all. He would rather do nothing, or even exist.
âCan you just take me home? Please?â
Vernon exhaled a defeated gust of breath and began to angle his tires away from the curb, the pharmacy lights pulled behind them.
âYeah, âcourse. Mr. Boring.â
â01:49
Wonwoo hadnât been able to fall asleep since Vernon dropped him off a couple hours ago. Heâd anticipated that. Usually, Wonwoo wouldnât do anything. He wouldnât toss or turn, or pace circles around his bedroom, or count down from one-hundred, because even if he did, none of it would work. His mind would still be wide awake.
Hence Wonwooâs decision to grab his phone. Staring at a lurid screen definitely wasnât going to help, though he wasnât trying to sleep, anyway. That conversation with Vernon was repeating in his head like a chattering bird, pushing him, pushing him, pushing him to find your Instagram and dig into your pictures because now Wonwoo was thinking of your dinner party and how vehemently you seemed to hate it. He saw that you had posted something quite recently, around the same time Wonwoo had left the pharmacy.
For a moment, his thumb hovered over the post.
He didnât want to press it because he didnât care.
Or, maybe he did.
There were multiple pictures in the set, and Wonwoo flicked through all of them. Some were of food, close-ups of your jewelryâyou even included a picture with Seokmin. But then Wonwoo had settled on the last photo and something in his stomach convulsed.
He recognized the dress like a flash of lightâthe sapphire one with the glimmering detail that you had modelled for him at the expensive boutique in the mall. Of course, that arm hanging cheekily low around your hip belonged to your boyfriend, Mingyu. He had a champagne glass pressed to his lips, fitted in his black suit with his hair neatly combed and styled into place. The smugness in his face was stifling. Wonwoo rolled onto his stomach, his eyes refusing to drift from the picture for even an instant. He just kept staring.
Staring and thinking. Staring and thinking.
One minute spent staring at your smile.
The next minute at the low placement of Mingyuâs hand.
Another minute staring at your sparkling dress.
The next minute at Mingyuâs brutally cocky expression.
He would switch back and forth.
But Wonwoo didnât really care. He was just bored.
And alone with his thoughts.
âEND OF PART PART ONE.
NOTE! while i truly cherish & adore all comments, pls refrain from remarks such as "pls post part x" "i need part x" "when are you posting part x" while i do understand the sentiment, i find these comments very dismissive & kinda disrespectful! i don't prefer to post series fics and so i don't receive these often, but pls note that if you comment this i will delete the comment!
the fic itself is completely done, so all i have to do is get the parts ready for posting. however, bc this is the first part, i don't have a set posting schedule just yet. i think it will depend on roughly how long those who read the fic take to finish it! but i will be sure to make a post about it or include the schedule in part two once i figure it out!
again, thank u so much your ur patience :3
much luv!! đ
#seventeen scenarios#wonwoo scenarios#seventeen x reader#wonwoo x reader#svt x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen fanfic#wonwoo fanfic#svt fanfic#jeon wonwoo#svt scenarios#seventeen fluff#seventeen angst#seventeen smut
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snow scales | cregan stark
hi, here comes the big boy aka the wolf of the north. i know that cregan got like three minutes total on a screen but man, the amount of babies that i would give him
anyway, for sure i want to write probably two more parts of this so watch out!
summary: westeros is at the gates of war and to gain allies, king's landing sends one of its dragons to winterfell to marry the northern wolf and increase the chances of winning the war.
warnings: none (?) i believe
pairing: fem!targtower reader x cregan stark
Westeros stood on the brink of war and no one could prevent it.
Rhaenyra, occupying Dragonstone, was gathering armies and allies around her. Aegon was doing the same, though he was merely a pawn in the hands of those wiser than himself. Nevertheless, the Targaryen family was split in two: one side wore black, the other green. However, it seemed that the Dragon Family had not just split in two but shattered like a broken glass.
One of the dining halls in the Red Keep hosted a silent dinner. Since the king's death, meals had passed in silence. At the head of the table, where Viserys once sat, now sat Aegon. Next to him was his mother, then the Hand of the King. On the new kingâs left sat Aemond, followed by their two younger sisters. No one exchanged even a glance.
After dinner, everyone left the table and went their separate ways, but Alicent stopped her older daughter, asking her to have a word. The girl nodded and they went to the mother's chambers.
"Has something happened?" the young princess asked once they were alone. The woman quickly reached for a jug of wine and filled her goblet, taking several large sips. The alcohol, however, did not ease the knot in her throat. Alicent clutched the goblet in her hand and sat down, looking at her daughter. She stared at her for a few moments in silence, as if trying to memorize as many details of her as possible. If she could, she would have imprinted her image on her mind.
"Motherâ" "You will go north," Alicent interrupted her, declaring it like a crossbow bolt. She knew this revelation would not be easy for her. Accepting the news would be equally difficult for her daughter.
"What?" the girl frowned. "Me? To the North?"
The woman nodded and sighed, wanting to gather some courage and convince herself that what she was doing was right.
"You know well that war is coming, and even if we wanted to, it is inevitable," she returned her gaze to her daughterâs face, who was looking at her with a slight frown between her brows. "We need allies, and the most are in the North. We must forge an alliance with them."
"Why are you entrusting me with such task?" she asked, shaking her head. "I understand you won't send Aegon, but Aemond? Ser Criston?"
Alicent tightened her grip on the goblet, and if it had been made of a weaker material, it would have shattered in her hand by now.
"Only you can bring the North closer to us."
The young princess frowned even more and shook her head. She didnât understand any of this.
"Am I to go there alone?" she looked back at her mother, who only nodded. "How long am I to be there?"
"You will marry Cregan Stark," she announced, placing the goblet on her lap. "There is no stronger alliance than marriage. Rhaenyra can do nothing about it."
The girl scoffed in disbelief and took a few steps back.
"This is absurd, utter madness," she believed her mother was joking, but the woman's face still had the same expression. "But you promised me to Aegon!"
"Aegon broke off the engagement," she said, looking at her daughter's face. "He knows it is necessary."
The young princess laughed bitterly, and tears, hot as molten steel, streamed down her cheeks.
"The North will not stand with a usurper, you know that very well!"
"Lord Stark is extremely pleased with the prospect of marrying a Targaryen and eagerly awaits you," she said almost mechanically. She had been repeating this sentence nonstop for days, as if trying to convince herself that what is she doing was right. However, she couldnât bear to look at her daughter's tear-streaked, bitter face.
"You're a monster," she sobbed, turning and grabbing the door handle.
"We all must sacrifice for the greater good," she said, but her daughter no longer heard her.
The shaken princess hurriedly left the castle, heading to the Dragonpit. She sobbed bitterly, tears streaming down her cheeks. When she heard Vermithor, she quickened her pace, running. When she saw the dragon, her heart momentarily lifted. It broke, however, when she saw the massive collar around the beastâs neck and the heavy chain that bound it. She cried out, reaching out and touching the dragonâs snout.
"What have they done to you?"
The bronze giant looked weakened, likely given a massive dose of something to sedate him during the collaring. The young princess couldnât believe what her own family was capable of.
"There, it's alright," she ran her hands over his snout, though she herself was shattered into pieces. Sadness, grief, and despair mixed with fury. She walked around the dragon and stood before the collar clasp, grabbing the chain and pulling with all her strength. But even with that, it didnât budge.
The girl screamed in anger, her scream not sounding like that of a teenager. It sounded like the roar of an enraged dragon, yet even the beastâs roar couldnât break the brass chains.
"Iâm so sorry," the girl sobbed, helplessly kneeling by the beastâs snout and hugging it with all her might. "Iâm sorry."
The young princess did not return to the castle. She spent the night in the Dragonpit, nestled against the side of her dragon. She cried until sleep overcame her. Vermithor covered her with his wing.
The next morning, when the Dragonkeepers were ordered to bring the princess, the dragon roared fiercely, not allowing them to approach. The girl woke immediately.
"Princess," one of the men spoke, standing at a distance the dragon permitted. "The queen summons you to the castle."
"She is not the queen," the princess muttered, sniffing. She stood and wiped her face with her hands. She felt tears welling up under her eyelids again. Vermithor sensed her emotions and abandoned his aggressive stance, laying his snout flat on the ground. The girl smiled sadly and hugged the dragon one last time.
"Geros ilas, uÄpa raqiros," she said, raising her head and looking at the bronze giant. She tenderly stroked his scales. Bitter tears once again wetted her cheeks, but she wiped them away with a clenched fist. "Nyke jÄhor mÄzigon arlÄŤ skori issa jÄda mÄzigon, se hÄnkirÄŤ ÄŤlon jÄhor zÄlagon ry lÄŤ qilĹni gĹntan bisa naejot ÄŤlva." (Farewell, old friend. I will return when my time comes, and together we will burn all those who did this to us.)
She walked away, not looking back. She heard the dragon's roar and cry, the clanking of chains, and the flapping of wings. But she left the Dragonpit alone.
At the castle gates, two carriages and about four dozen knights waited, all on horses and in shining armor. Alicent waited by one carriage, accompanied by the Hand of the King. Ser Criston also looked like he was being sent on a journey, probably to make sure than the princess will not run away. However, neither Aegon, Aemond, nor Helaena were among the crowd. The girl felt like spitting in her motherâs and the Handâs faces. She could only guess that her siblings knew nothing about this. No one could convince her that Aegon had agreed to break the engagement. He might be foolish and reckless, but he loved his sister sincerely. And Helaena? She would never have let her go.
Alicent wanted to say something, reached out to her daughter, but the girl didnât even look at her. She got into the carriage and slammed the door. She would return and burn them all.
For several days, until the first stop, the young princess didnât say a word to anyone. She didnât eat or drink much, which did not go unnoticed by several of her maids who had been sent with her. Fearing the princess planned to starve herself to death, they tried to persuade her to eat at least small amounts. Sometimes they succeeded, sometimes not.
As a result, the girl lost a lot of weight during the journey. Her dresses became too large, her eyes sunken, and her hair, once like glowing gold, now resembled spider silk. The princess stopped spending the journey in tears only when the entourage passed Harrenhal. She remained silent, and the feasts thrown by the lords to host her were always the first she left, apologizing and explaining a headache. No one blamed her.
As the entourage moved further, the days grew shorter and the nights colder. Winterfell was near, but the approaching winter was even nearer.
The Targaryen princess reached the northern capital after over two moons.
At the maid's suggestion, the girl donned a thick fur coat, and as soon as she stepped outside her carriage, she was greeted by piercing cold. She had seen snow on the journey, but there was much more of it here, and it still fell from the sky. Lead-colored clouds hung low, and snowflakes swirled in the wind, falling onto the icy ground. They also fell on her snow-like hair, which the frosty wind blew, kissing her cheeks in greeting.
Cregan Stark, the young lord of Winterfell and her future husband, also came to greet her.
The young man was the textbook definition of a Northerner. He was only a little older than her, but his sharp features made him appear more mature than he actually was. The Wolf of the North was over a head taller than her, with broad shoulders and a well-built physique, now covered under a thick fur. The wind tousled his shoulder-length brown hair, and his toughened skin was impervious to the cold. Not like the girlâs cheeks, now rosy as petals of a fresh bloomed flower.
"Princess," he spoke, his voice deep and marked by an accent. "I welcome you to Winterfell."
"My Lord," she forced a smile, though she knew it must have looked more like a grimace. The Dragon Princess was aware that she would have to endure many more forced smiles and artificial courtesies.
The Wolf of the North, however, did not require any courtesy from her. He knew why the girl had been sent to him and what was expected of her; he had even heard rumors of a broken engagement. He decided not to pressure her and let her get used to the new place, to the North. After all, a Dragon had ended up among a pack of Wolves.
The wedding did not wait for the girl to get accustomed to Winterfell; it took place just a few days after her arrival at the Stark stronghold. The Dragon Princess had exchanged only a few formal sentences with the Lord of the North before she had to call him husband. The Godswood, where the wedding was held, had seen many a forced marriage. The girl had even come to terms with the bedding, but the Young Wolf announced that it would not take place.
"Perhaps one day a spark of affection will ignite within you, and you will come to my arms of your own accord," he said when he saw the questioning look on her face.
The night after the wedding, the marriage was spent apart. Every subsequent night was as well.
Days passed, and the young princess gradually came to terms with her new reality. She knew this was her life now, that she was the wife of the Wolf of the North and the Lady of Winterfell. The choice she had been forced into might not have pleased her, but it did not mean it was a bad one.
After some time, the girl began to spend more time outside her chambers. She abandoned reading and took up sewing, helping the servants mend linens and clothes. She insisted on mending her husband's clothes herself, asking that no one else do it for her. Although it was not her duty, every morning and evening she fed the animals. The young princess missed her dragon dearly, but she found joy in spending time with horses, feeding chickens, or petting rabbits.
One of the servants once ran terrified to inform Cregan that the princess was endangering herself with the direwolves. The Lord, worried, quickly went with her to the scene, only to find there was no reason for concern. The girl sat motionless on the ground, allowing the animals to sniff her. Two wolves wagged their tails, and one even lay down beside her. Cregan's heart swelled at the sight, not because of her interaction with the animals but because, for the first time, he saw a smile on her face. He could have sworn it was genuine.
The marriage, however, still did not see them spending much time together, nor talking much. This did not mean the Young Wolf was not interested in his wife; quite the opposite. Both morning and evening, he would ask the servants how the girl was doing. After some time, the young princess began to do the same.
"What is he like?" she asked one day, while she and two Winterfell servants were mending clothes. Though she did not ask directly, the women knew she meant Lord Stark. They exchanged glances and only smiled. Did her question mean that the Dragon Princess was beginning to warm to the Wolf Lord?
"He has a very big heart, my lady," one admitted. "At first glance, he may seem intimidating, but he is a gentle giant. Lord Stark is very kind."
The girl lowered her gaze, focusing on her work. She smiled slightly.
"I think he is a good man too," she admitted.
"That does not mean he can be trifled with," added the other. "He is kind when someone gives him the same. But he is a wolf, my lady. He can bite if provoked."
Indeed, Cregan appeared to be a man of steel nerves who could turn that steel into a sword, with which he could take a life without a second thought.
When the princess had finished her duties, she dressed and went outside to spend some time in the stables. In the courtyard, a few men were preparing for a journey, saddling horses. Among them was her husband.
"My lady," he smiled at the sight of her. Each of the men bowed slightly.
"Are you going somewhere, my lord?" she asked, stroking his horseâs muzzle.
"Hunting," he announced, fastening a crossbow to the saddle. "I will return before nightfall."
"Could I accompany you?" she asked without much thought. The young man's lips twitched upward. The unexpected proposal pleased him.
"You would do me a great honor, my lady."
And so the Wolf and the Dragon set off together, side by side. They rode at the front, accompanied by four men. No one questioned the princess's participation.
When they reached the depths of the forest, they tied the horses to a tree and continued on foot. At a certain point, they all split up, but the Wolf and the Dragon stayed together. They were silent, but it was not an awkward silence. Their mutual company was enough.
"Look," he leaned toward her, whispering. "There, between the trees. Beyond the fallen trunk."
The girl quickly found the point he indicated and smiled at the sight of a deer. The stag was large, and its antlers were even larger. It calmly stripped moss from the fallen tree.
Cregan silently removed the crossbow from his shoulder. The girl felt a pang in her heart. Of course, she thought. They hadnât come for a stroll.
The Young Wolf noticed her troubled expression. He knew what saddened her.
"I never let them suffer longer than necessary," he assured. The girl quickly nodded, causing a tear to roll down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away with her hand.
Cregan drew the arrow and raised the crossbow, aiming at the deer. A moment of silence, a whoosh of air, and a dull thud. The stag fell to the ground. The young man glanced at his wife's face one last time and moved ahead. When they reached the deer, it was already dead. Blood flowed from its mouth, and the once-living body was now motionless. Cregan approached to retrieve the arrow, but the girl beat him to it. She knelt by the dead animal and gently ran her hand along its neck, stroking it soft, golden fur. For a moment, she gazed at the deer, absorbing its beauty. Tears welled up in her eyes again, so she quickly grabbed the arrow, pulled it out, and stood up, handing it to her husband. Cregan took it in silence.
Although neither of them spoke for the rest of the hunt, an understanding formed between them, a sort of alliance. The culture and customs of the North were so wild and distant for someone from the South. The young princess, however, knew that Winterfell was her home now. And if it was her home, she had to learn its customs. Even if they were far from her own beliefs.
That evening, despite the darkness, the Wolf Lord could have sworn that the scales of the Southern Dragon glistened with a snowy sheen.
A few days after the first closer interaction between the young marriage, Cregan decided he would like to spend some time with the girl again. He knocked on her chamber door, and when she let him in, he entered. The girl was sitting by the fireplace, stuffing pillows with feathers, but she smiled at the sight of her husband.
"My lady," he nodded to her, lightly returning her smile.
"My lord," she replied, reaching for a needle and beginning to sew the pillow. "Something brings you here?" she asked after a moment when he silently observed her deftly working fingers.
"I would like to introduce someone to you," he replied, causing the girl to frown slightly in surprise.
"Do we have guests?"
The young man nodded and reached for her fur. Seeing his gesture encouraging her to stop working, she set her task aside and stood up. She walked over to him and turned, allowing him to help her dress. Shortly afterward, they went outside.
"Who are these guests? Did we know they were coming?" she asked, glancing at her husband.
"We expected them, but we didn't know when they would arrive," he explained.
They passed the courtyard, which was empty. There was no sign that Winterfell had visitors. The girl remained silent until they entered one of the sheds. This particular one housed the direwolves. She was about to ask what this was all about when she heard squeaks and whimpers. As she connected the dots, the frown disappeared from her brow, and her violet eyes lit up.
"No way, it can't be."
Cregan smiled and gestured for her to come closer. Around the corner, on a bed of straw, lay a she-wolf. Four pups were latched onto her teats, and one of them, with nearly golden fur, was sleeping a bit further away.
The young princess was genuinely moved by the sight. Cregan smiled as well, not just because of the litter but because of his wife's joy.
"They were born this morning," he announced. "Four females and a male."
The male turned out to be the pup lying away from the pack. He was bigger than the rest and had a bronze coat, a color familiar to the girl. When the little wolf woke up and stretched, Cregan approached and petted the she-wolf's head, silently praising her for a job well done. He picked up the pup that was away from the mother and held him in his arms, then handed him to the girl. The young princess cradled him, stroking him gently.
"So you've returned to me as a direwolf," she said softly, more to herself than to her husband.
Cregan looked at his wife questioningly. The young princess felt his gaze on her.
"My dragon has a very similar color," she explained, scratching the wolf pup behind the ear. "They call him the Bronze Fury, all because of the color of his scales."
"In the skies, is he truly a fury?" he asked, watching her interaction with the pup.
The girl laughed softly and shook her head. "Maybe once, when my great-grandfather rode him. Now he's an old beast. Sometimes I felt he preferred a nap over a ride with me."
Cregan smiled at her words. He noticed that she found joy in animals, especially direwolves and dragons. While he couldn't provide the latter, he was glad he could bring her happiness with the pups.
"He's yours now," he declared when she kissed the pup between the ears. "The Targaryens have dragons, the Starks have direwolves. It's time for you to have your own."
The girl looked again at the pup she was holding and smiled even more. Her heart swelled with emotion.
"Thank you," she said, looking at her husband. Cregan returned her smile.
"What will you name him?"
"Vermithor," she said without hesitation. "I feel he's a dragon in a direwolf's body."
To the servants' concern, they spent several hours in the shed, out of sight of everyone. They sat on the straw among the pups, talking about dragons, direwolves, flights in the clouds, and hunts in the forests. For the first time since they met and got married, they had the chance to learn something about each other.
"I've never seen a dragon," Cregan admitted. His sword lay by his straightened legs, and he leaned his back against the rough wall.
"I wish you to never have to," the girl replied. Her legs were crossed, and in them, like in a nest, slept little Vermithor. "Dragons never bode well."
"But still, they obey you," he looked at her. "How do you manage that?"
"You can't control them completely; they are still wild beasts," she noted. "But the Targaryens have managed to do so to some extent for thousands of years, back when the home of dragons was Valyria."
"Dragons respond only to the old language, right?" The young princess nodded in confirmation. "Just as I've never seen a dragon, I've never encountered that language."
"Zyr sindighy iderÄbion, kes as qogralbar," she said, and the Young Wolf smiled. "Se valzi rijinyso sizi vysĚoron" (It is a very rough language, in my opinion. And also not the easiest to learn)
"If I were a dragon and heard something like that, I wouldn't hesitate to follow orders," he replied, making her laugh. Cregan also smiled sincerely. He never thought he'd hear the language of Old Valyria, but even more, he didn't expect to hear such sincere laughter of the Dragon Princess.
Winter began to settle more and more into Winterfell, but the biting cold was defied by the spark of affection that blossomed between the Wolf and the Dragon.
#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd one shot#hotd fanfic#cregan stark#cregan stark x you#cregan stark x reader#hotd x reader#hotd x you
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The thing is, Jean Valjeanâs ânineteen year prison sentence for stealing a loaf of breadâ from Les Mis isnât actually unusualâŚ.not even today! I see people talking about it as if itâs strange or unimaginable when it happens every day.
In modern America â often as a result of pointlessly cruel (and racist) habitual offender and mandatory minimum lawsâ people are routinely sentenced to life in prison for minor crimes like shoplifting or possession of drugs.
The ACLU did a report in 2013 detailing the lives of various people who were sentenced to life in prison without parole for nonviolent property crimes like:
â˘attempting to cash a stolen check
â˘a junk-dealerâs possession of stolen junk
metal (10 valves and one elbow pipe)
â˘possession of stolen wrenches
â˘siphoning gasoline from a truck
â˘stealing tools from a tool shed and a welding machine from a yard
â˘shoplifting three belts from a department store
â˘shoplifting several digital cameras
â˘shoplifting two jerseys from an athletic store
⢠taking a television, circular saw, and a power converter from a vacant house
⢠breaking into a closed liquor store in the middle of the night
And of course, so so so many people sentenced to life without parole for the possession of a few grams of drugs.
And we could go on and on!
Gregory Taylor was a homeless man in Los Angeles who, in 1997, was sentenced to â25 years to lifeâ for attempting to steal food from a food kitchen. He was released after 13 years. The lawyers helping to release him even cited Les Miserables in their appeal, comparing Taylorâs sentence to Jean Valjeanâs.
And thereâs another specific bit of social commentary Hugo was making about Valjeanâs trial thatâs still depressingly relevant. He writes that Valjean was sentenced for the theft of loaf of bread, but also that the court managed to make that sentence stick by bringing up some of his past misdemeanors. For example, Valjean owned a gun and was known to occasionally poach wildlife (presumably for his starving family to eat.) . So the court exaggerates how harmful the bread theft wasâhe had to smash a windowpane to get the bread, which is basically Violenceâ then insist the fact that he owns a gun and occasionally poaches is proof that he is habitually and innately violent. Then when Valjean obviously becomes distressed traumatized and furious as a result of his nakedly unjust sentence and begins making desperate (and very unsuccessful/impulsive/ poorly thought through) attempts to escapeâŚ. the government indifferently tacks more years onto his sentence, labels him a âdangerousâ felon, and insists that its initial read of him as an innately violent person was correct.
And itâs sad how a lot of the real life stories linked earlier are similar to the commentary Hugo wrote in 1863? Someone will commit a nonviolent property crime, and then the court insists that a bunch of other miscellaneous things theyâve done in the past (whether itâs other minor thefts or being addicted to drugs or w/e) are Proof theyâre inherently violent and incapable of being around other people.
A small very petty fandom side note: This is also why I dislike all those common jokes you see everywhere along the lines of âlol itâs so unrealistic for the police to want to arrest Valjean over a loaf of bread, there must have been some other reason the police were pursuing him. Because the state would never punish someone that harshly and irrationally for no reason. so maybe javert was just gay hahaâ. (Ex: this tiktokâ please donât harass the creator or poster though, I donât think they were intending to mean anything like that and its just a silly common type of joke you see made about Les mis all the time so itâs not unique in any way.) because like.
As much as I donât think Les Mis is a flawless book or that its political messaging is perfectâŚ.the only way that insanely long unjust sentences for minor crimes is âunrealisticâ is if youâre operating on the assumption that prisons are here to Keep You Safe by always only punishing bad criminals who do serious crimes. And thatâs just, not true at all. Like I get that these are just goofy silly shallow jokes, and Iâm not angry or going to harass anyone who makes them. but it feels like thereâs an assumption underlying all those goofy jokes that âthis is just not how prison works!â âPrisons donât routinely sentence people to absurd laughably unjust pointless sentences!â âPrisons give people fair sentences for logical reasons!â When likeâŚno
Valjean being relentlessly hounded and tortured for a minor crime in a way that is utterly ridiculous and arbitrary in its cruelty is not actually a plot hole in Les mis. Itâs a plot hole in âŚ..society ajsjkdkdkf. And the only way to fix that is to fight for prison abolition or at least reform, and (in America) stand up against the vicious naked cruelty of habitual offender and mandatory minimum laws.
But yeah :(. I hate how Les Mis opens with a prologue saying the novel will be obsolete the moment the social issues it describes have been resolvedâ but two hundred years later, the book is still more relevant than ever because weâre dealing with so many of the exact same injustices.
#les mis#lm 1.2.6#Jean Valjean#anyway sometimes lm 1.2.6 makes me sad and sometimes it makes me angry#today I feel both#: â(((((((((((((((#but yeah#also again I donât hate people who make the goofy âlol valjeans prison sentence was so unrealistic javert must be gayâ jokes#i get that theyâre jokes#and that theyâre mostly made by people who like watched Les mis 2012 once#but also#but also but also#:ââââ(#I donât know the tragedy of valjeans story and the continued relevance of that social commentary Gets to me#Les mis letters#Les mis daily
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ꎊ, ç俥č
ă⸝[đŤđśđ´đľ đ˘ đ§đ˘đŻ...]
Summary: Your face is unique, your voice and your way of behaving is so special, maybe that's why he fell in love. But you're just his fan.
C/w: Ni-ki thought you were a girl (short reader), small mention of anxiety, everything happens very quickly. ă
¤ďźă
¤Tw: Few curses, anxiety attack.
Genre: fluff, kinda suggestive, romance, two points of view.
A/N: Apart from the fact that I struggled to put Japanese and Korean words into romaji, I decided to write this story with Stuck in the Middle as background song, and somehow I feel that the whole writing feels like read a kdrama(This is so embarrassing and trashy (â âĽâ ďšâ âĽâ ))
your point of view.
The plane had finally landed at Incheon International Airport, marking the end of a long and tiring journey from Japan. You, with your backpack hanging from one shoulder and your heart beating with a mix of excitement and nervousnessâbecause after months of insisting to your mother, she granted your wish to meet your favorite groupâYou decided that walking to your hotel would be a good way to familiarize yourself with the new surroundings and also to take advantage of taking photographs.
With the afternoon sun bathing the unknown streets, you began your journey trusting in the route marked by your phone, and your incipient knowledge of Korean.
As you progressed, the roads became narrower and the signs more confusing. The feeling of being lost began to slowly invade you, but your determination combined with stubbornness wanted to make you find the building through the image that was on Google...
As you turned a corner, you realized that you were just walking in circles, as the convenience stores and small restaurants were the same as those "three streets back."
The afternoon turned into twilight, and the warm lights of the lanterns began to come on, casting shadows that danced across the cobblestones.
The fear that you had been avoiding so much was present when a group of people passed by you and they only laughed. Your bad thoughts appeared with them, making you believe that maybe they were laughing at you.
Feeling more and more disoriented and exhausted, you decided to take a break and go into one of those stores just to buy a bottle of water and an onigiri. Five minutes passed just in you doing calculations to give the correct bill to the cashier.
As you left the premises you decided to start eating a little, trying to calm your mind and regain your composure. You checked the address on your phone again, but everything seemed just as confusing, the building was supposed to be a block away.
While you were looking for where to throw the plastic from the onigiri, from afar you could see a boy with a cap and a mask leaving a restaurant just a couple of meters from you, you thought it was destiny who gave you the opportunity to go to him and ask him. What can you lose? The dignity.
"E-excuse me!... You could- uh..." Your embarrassing attempt to ask him for help seemed to have scared him a little, because when he turned to look at you, he just made an "x" with his arms and gently shook his head.
Seconds later another boy came out of the restaurant, apparently he was with the person you had scared, so now you had two, quite tall men, glaring at you.
"Uh... Hotel?" Nerves took over you again, causing you to show them the image of the building you are looking for, pointing out the name of the place. When you didn't get a response you only felt a slight desire to cry, you felt that the last opportunity to have a comfortable place to sleep and to be able to see the people you admired.
Your hands began to shake and your heart accelerated after a few seconds because of how the boys looked around, not really knowing what to say to you.
"Uzai..." You turned off your phone as soon as you could and gave a small bow. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry for making you lose-...How do you say Jikan in Korean?" You whispered the last sentence. "Ah!, I'm sorry to waste your time..."
"You speak Japanese?" Suddenly, a deep voice interrupted your thoughts. âDo you need help with something?â You looked up slightly, meeting the eyes of the boy who had just come out. He apparently noticed your concern, so he would quickly try to strike up a quick conversation.
"Yeah.. I'm a little lost," you admitted, feeling a bit of relief at finally finding someone willing to help. "I'm looking for this hotel," you said, showing the address on your phone.
He simply nodded, understanding your situation. "Oh, I know that place, it used to be above the center of Seoul, but they changed it to the Gangnam area. It's not too far from here. Do you want us to accompany you?â He asked adjusting his cap.
âI like the idea! But... Will your friend agree?â You responded, tilting your head a little, noticing the brunette in the back with his gaze focused on his phone.
âHe'll be fine, come on, I'll take youâwe'll take you to the hotel, before it gets too late,â he responded with a smile from under the fabric.
You thanked him for his kindness and together they began to walk, eventually the other boy followed behind them. The conversation flowed easily, and you discovered that he was also a fan of the same group. The coincidence made you feel more comfortable and less alone along the way.
From the way you both laughed or made very clumsy jokes, people around you could deduce that you were lifelong friends, when the reality is that you had been talking for 15 minutes since he offered to take you. During some moments there were also small friction between your hand and his or even when you caught him staring at you, either in the eyes or at your lips.
As you two walked, you realized that you had missed a small alley that connected directly to the main street where your hotel was located.
"Well... I think this is the end, pretty girl" he commented, pausing in his walk, making you see the large building.
Finally, you arrived at the hotel just as the sky turned completely dark. When you said goodbye to your new friend, a feeling of sadness flooded your body for a few seconds, it was a shame that the only person who helped you did not have a phone number and continue to know each other, however you thanked him deeply for his help.
He wished you a good stay and reminded you to enjoy every moment of your trip.
As you were about to enter through the revolving door, turning around just to look at him and say, "I'm a boy," you let out a laugh as you saw his eyes widen.
"Oh yeah? Oh.. well, never mind. It was nice meeting you, pretty boy." He finished saying goodbye to you with his hand moving from side to side. You quickly went into the hotel with your face all red from the nickname he had given you.
Entering your room, you dropped your backpack and collapsed on the bed, feeling a mix of relief and satisfaction. Despite the setback, you had managed to get there and, in the process, you had made a new friend. With a smile on your face, you prepared to rest, knowing that tomorrow you would be face to face with your idols.
 ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄
âSo.. Was she really cute or were you just doing this out of kindness?â a male voice asked.
âCute.. he was cute.â The taller boy responded, with his head down as he continued walking towards a company, next to his friend.
"He?! Holy shit, Ni-ki... You're in serious trouble if anyone else finds out.â Heeseung commented.
âI know, but I doubt they will ever know, for my bad or good luck, I only spoke with him for a couple of minutes,â He paused while he removed his mask and cap once inside the facility. "His voice... his eyes, everything about him was so cute, did you see how small he looked next to me... ssibal" he whisper.
âYes, I know how he looked like, I was also going with you two, in case you forgot,â Heeseung said with a slight expression of annoyance, this because of the dramatic way in which Ni-ki gently pressed his forehead with his hand. âIt's not the end of the world either, you know? Maybe you will meet him by chance another day andââ
âOr perhaps I will never see him again and I will die without even knowing his name,â Ni-ki commented.
 ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄
The sun was just beginning to rise when, still with the excitement of the previous day throbbing in your chest, you woke up to the insistent sound of the alarm. Today was the day you would finally get to see the boys you've admired for a while face to face, and the excitement was mixed with a touch of nervousness.
A new day began normally, although given the fact that it was your first time in another country and alone, you felt like you were in a dream movie or drama. Clouds adorned the sky, which was as blue as the sea. When you jumped up just to open the window, your entire room lit up.
After a quick breakfast and a mental review of what you planned to tell them, you left for the event venue. The city was alive at that time of the morning, but you only had one thing on your mind: fansing.
And, although you didn't want to admit it, you also thought about the boy you had met the day before, the one who had turned you red and tomato for the simple fact of calling you "pretty boy."
You kept thinking about the way in which on the short journey from that place to your hotel, he always tried to make you smile or talk about your tastes. His deep voice, his height, the way he tried to make you feel safe and although it was difficult to see his face, his eyes were so pretty. A dark brown adorned on the outside by her long, drooping eyelashes... It was so cute.
You left the hotel completely ready, a small bag where you carried small gifts for each member, as well as the most recent album so they could sign it.
Upon arriving at the venue, the energy in the atmosphere was palpable. The lights, the preparations, the murmur of the people... Everything contributed to a crescendo of anticipation. You tried to stay focused as you waved at a few girls before you.
Ni-ki's pov.
The day had started early for him, as usual. The alarms sounded in sync with the first ray of sunlight, calling all members of the group to prepare for the day's event. With automatic movements, he headed to the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth as he tried to clear away the drowsiness.
He carefully chose his outfit, casual but in the iconic colors of his comeback, adding the finishing touch with a pair of accessories he knew fans would love.
Although fansings turned out to be somewhat exhausting, there was something about this particular one that filled him with an inexplicable excitement. Maybe it was the fact that they had spent weeks in the studio, or maybe it was the simple pleasure of seeing their fans again.
As he got ready, his thoughts returned to the boy he had met the day before. The pretty boy, as he had called him in a moment of spontaneity, continued to haunt his mind. He remembered how his eyes sparkled when he talked about his passions, the way they became more slanted when he laughed at some bad joke, how his smile seemed to light up the surroundings, and how his initial nervousness dissipated as they talked.
Upon arriving at the event venue, feelings of nervousness and excitement were mixed. The routine of getting ready, arranging some things with the staff, and going over the day's agenda was carried out with precision, but his thoughts kept wandering to that unexpected meeting. He wondered if he would see him again one day, if fate would allow them to cross paths again.
With each passing minute, the anticipation grew. The team gave them the final instructions while preparations progressed around them. The lights were shining brightly, the stage was set, and the fans' enthusiastic screams echoed in their ears, creating an electrifying atmosphere. It was all part of the magic of the moment.
When Ni-ki finally took the stage, he focused on doing his best, trying to connect with every fan who had come to see him, shaking hands, praising fans' perfumes or accessories, etc.
And then, as he waited for the next fan, in the crowd, as he watched some girls, waving at them, his eyes met a familiar look.
He couldn't believe it: the pretty boy was there, approaching him, with a small bag in hand and a nervous but radiant smile. In that instant, all the noise, lights, and hubbub seemed to fade away, leaving only the memory of those brown eyes and the surprise of an unexpected connection in the midst of chaos.
Ni-ki felt his heart speed up, and a warm feeling of happiness enveloped him, unable to hide a smile from ear to ear.
The boy approached timidly, not really knowing how to start the conversation. Ni-ki, still shocked by the sight, was the first to speak.
"Hello!" Ni-ki said with a smile, trying to hide his own surprise. "Is this your first time here?"
The boy smiled back, although clearly nervous. âUm... Actually, yes,â the boy responded, almost whispering. âIâŚbrought this for youâ He extended the bag towards him, making the taller boy take a look inside.
Ni-ki carefully took the bag and looked inside better, finding a small letter and some candys. He looked up and saw that the boy was watching him carefully, waiting for his reaction.
âThis is... Thank you very much, this is very nice,â he responded, letting out a soft laugh, feeling a pleasant warmth in his chest. "What's your name?" He asked.
The shorter boy blushed, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before meeting Ni-ki's eyes again. âMy name is [...]â he responded as he watched his Idol take his hand out of the corner of his eye, causing his heart to beat rapidly.
Ni-ki felt a mixture of shame and tenderness. He didn't want to pressure him, knowing that his Korean wasn't the best, so he decided to move forward gently.
âOh! Are you japanese? You would have told me beforeâŚâ exclaimed the tallest one, regulating his voice so that only the one in front of him could hear him. "I'm glad you have come. You are having fun?"
The boy nodded, clearly relieved by the change of topic and language. "Yes, a lot. It's my first time at a fansing, and it's... amazing. I can't believe I'm here, talking to you, holding your hand...â
âWell, believe me, I'm very glad you came,â Ni-ki commented, feeling a special connection in that moment. However, unfortunately time couldn't stop just so the two of you could continue talking, so you continued at the same pace as always, one minute and goodbye. âI hope you enjoy the rest of the event. And thanks again for the gift. It means a lot to me."
You were both silent for a moment, just smiling, staring at each other. The rest of the minute they spent talking about basic things: tastes, music, clothes and sometimes about the album.
Finally, the boy said bye with a soft "goodbye", and Ni-ki watched him approach the next member, his heart still pounding.
When the event was over and Ni-ki had a moment to reflect, he realized that that brief encounter had left a deep mark on him. The unexpected connection, the mix of shame and love, all contributed to an experience he would cherish for a long time.
"So... that boy turned out to be our fan" Heeseung said, approaching the minor, gently squeezing his shoulder in a way to comfort him.
âNo, he's just my fan.â He smiled, caressing the letter you had previously given him.
 ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄
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¤ Let's avoid the fact that I put Ronaldo in the Lore and let's avoid that I also made everything very clichĂŠ. đ´
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¤I'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to ă
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¤ leave me any requests! <â (â  ̄â ︜â  ̄â )â >
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¤ All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara
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#kpop x male reader#enhypen x male reader#nishimura riki#riki x male reader#enhypen x oc#x male reader#idk how to tag this#enhypen niki#kpop scenarios#enhypen scenarios#enhypen social media au#đđŁđđđĄđ¨đ§đ˘đľ3ă
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đđ A Heart Matter.
Spencer Reid x Prentiss!reader
Series masterlist | ONE | TWO | THREE |
Summary: A few months after you left, Spencer thinks he sees you walking down the street, and his whole world is turned upside down.
Words: 3,2k.
TW: mentions of crime, trauma, death, pain and violence (normal warnings in the series). so much spoilers for s6 and s7. the events narrated occur after emily's "death". so much angst. read the dates carefully, especially the years, because there are some backward time frames that can confuse you if you don't pay attention!. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).
Note: I'm so sorry, that's all I can say now.
Also, I thought about making this a series, but I'm not sure because I've never done one before and I've really only been writing here for about a month??? I'm trying hard.
⥠Enjoy! âĄ
July 18th, 2011
The steady ticking of the wall clock echoed in Spencer's head as a reminder that his time in the session was ticking away, robbing him of the chance to express himself without sounding like a complete lunatic.
âI saw her.â He had to repeat it aloud after receiving a puzzled look from his therapist.
The woman pursed her lips. âIn a dream? Are you having nightmares again?â
The lump in the agent's throat felt tighter and more suffocating, causing him to shift in his seat to hide it. He wanted to appear sane and focused, however much his next words were anything but.
âNo.â
The therapist's intrigued look and the fact that she stopped writing in her notebook to give him her full attention made his hands tremble and his heart pound as he spoke again.
âI mean, I still have the same nightmares...but this, this is different.â Reid tried to explain hesitantly.
Since the day he found you lying in a pool of blood outside your sister's apartment, his mind had been tormented by the image and the guilt it caused him. The nightmares of seeing you again and losing you were a constant every night. Every time he managed to fall asleep, he woke up agitated, feeling again the emptiness of not having you by his side. And that was something his therapist knew better than anyone, because she forced him to write down every nightmare and tell her all of them.
Those bad dreams were supposed to be over, or so he had claimed for the past three weeks.
âHow?â
âI wasn't asleep when I saw her.â Spencer finally blurted out in a slightly shaky voice. He had rehearsed the same conversation several times and always ended up feeling like a deranged man seeing ghosts. âI was on the street.â
That sentence instantly changed the tone of the conversation.
âIt was after work, I went to buy some food because the case ended earlier than I thought. Her favorite Chinese restaurant is a few blocks from my apartment, we really liked to eat there...I bought some and when I came out, I saw her.â He paused for a minute, trying to mentally return to the moment that was relentlessly replaying in his mind. âShe was across the street, buying flowers.â
He had to be quiet for a second, pausing to calm his own breathing. It was ridiculous, but the thought of you buying flowers again made him smile slightly.
You had always loved flowers and now he was supposed to bring them to your grave.
âI ran across the street as soon as I saw her, but I lost sight of her when a bus came across.â He said, struggling to finish his story.
âSpencer, listen to me.â The woman's tone alone let him know that she didn't agree with him at all. âIt's normal to think we see someone we lost, it happens to several people. Maybe it was just someone who looked like her, and being near a place the two of you frequented contributed to the confusion.â
That was impossible because he would recognize you anywhere and there was no one else like you.
âYou know the truth.â
Of course he knew.
He had been trying to live for six months knowing that you were already dead.
Six months of him trying to deal with your ghost. Six months of him on his knees begging for this to be just another nightmare. Six months of reliving the last time he held you in his arms. Six months of being dead in life.
âYes, but she looked different.â He explained, receiving a puzzled look that prompted him to provide further clarification. âHer hair was shorter, much shorter. And if I were hallucinating her ghost, I'd see her the same way I saw her the last time, or maybe the time before that. It wouldn't be so different from the way I remember her.â
âYou lost two important people on the same day, it's not about logic.â
From her reaction when he concluded his session, it was evident that she considered his perspective to be irrational and clouded by the effects of grief.
And maybe it was.
July 30th, 2011
A few days of missing therapies and locking himself up at work already had consequences.
It was the second time a case had ended earlier than expected and Spencer had to go back to his lonely apartment and find excuses to leave without feeling sorry for himself. It was hard for him to be in his own home without you, surrounded by the photos you always insisted on taking and framing to preserve moments that were now torture. So the best solution was to make unnecessary purchases or lock himself in the nearest library.
Anything was better than being locked in a room with himself, so he decided to read in a room full of strangers who provided the company he so desperately needed.
The bad news was that the library's closing time had come earlier than expected for unknown reasons, and life seemed to force him to face his reality on the busy streets of Virginia, taking every possible alternate route to delay his arrival home. He didn't want to have to open the door knowing that no one would be waiting for him, that you wouldn't be there asleep on the couch after watching a marathon of your favorite movies, or just trying to read one of his books so you could discuss it with him.
His mind was still hazy and his eyes were wandering through the shops of the city when a familiar and unmistakable figure appeared before his eyes, just a few meters away, coming out of one of the shops on the next street.
It was you again. Unmistakably you.
He started running without a second thought, but the streets were so crowded that it was hard for him to move through the mass of people. His heartbeat was out of control and probably everyone could hear him, but he didn't care about looking crazy, he just needed to get a little closer to talk and make sure it was you.
The city's public transportation seemed to be against him, because just as he was about to cross the street, not caring that the light was red, another bus crossed the street and almost ran him over. Just a few inches and the story would have been very different for him. Everyone on the street was whispering, car horns were honking and every now and then someone would ask him if he was okay or look at him like he was a psychiatric patient. But nothing mattered to him, there was only your image in his mind and the possibility of finding out if he was really going crazy or if your ghost was haunting him.
When he managed to cross the street, there was no sign of you, and his therapist's words echoed in his mind as a symbol of temporary insanity brought on by pain. Try as he might to ignore his conscience, there was no way to find you in the sea of people, and he had no choice but to enter the store where he thought he saw you coming out.
âA woman bought something here a few minutes ago, she had a bag slung over her shoulder.â Spencer spoke quickly as soon as he walked in and approached the local salesman. He paused only when the man nodded in confusion at his attitude. âDo you know her name? Where she's from? Does she come here often?â
The man's lips were sealed, he just waved his hand to let him know he would only talk for money. He didn't even flinch when Reid pulled out his badge and repeated that he was FBI. Anyway, the thirty dollars was the master key to get the information and the security camera footage, which was barely visible because of the poor quality.
âI don't know who she is, it's the first time I've seen her. There aren't many customers on my shift, and not everyone buys that many books.â He began to speak under Spencer's curious gaze. âShe paid cash and bought a bunch of classics. And she had a limp.â
âAre you sure? Which leg was it?â
There was a short silence, which the salesman used to remind himself, and Spencer's nerves got even more out of control.
âI don't remember which leg it was but I was definitely limping. I noticed that when she climbed the ladder, I had to help her.â
January 11th, 2010
âCan we eat here?â You asked after reading the sign that said the restaurant's elevator was under repair. âThere are a few tables.â
Spencer couldn't help but frown and let go of your hand to stand in front of you. His eyes searched for yours. âI thought you wanted to come up, the view is your favorite thing here.â
You two were at your favorite restaurant, a Chinese food paradise with the best view in city, according to your expert opinion. It wasn't the first time the two of you had been there, so you had already more than booked a table, and this one was on the third floor. Your favorite part of going there was seeing the moon.
And of course, Dr. Reid was the kind of guy who always paid attention to the little details. He remembered everything, and could probably tell what you were thinking just by looking into your eyes for a few seconds.
âLet me take you upstairs, please.â
His puppy-dog eyes and a single phrase were enough to get you to let him take you by the arm and lead you up the stairs at a slow pace. By the time you got to the second floor, he offered to carry you like a princess. You had no choice but to accept, especially since it had already taken you more than ten minutes to climb a single floor. The pitying looks from the other diners were starting to make you uncomfortable.
âThank you, Spencer.â You mumbled as you reached the table and he pulled up a chair for you.
He smiled. He loved how you said his name and wanted to hear it for hours.
After you both sat down and made your requests, you spoke again. âAren't you going to ask why I can't climb a ladder?â
âI won't ask you anything you don't want to answer.â He said simply.
You felt like you could tell him anything, even your darkest thoughts. Your sister had already talked about it. Either it was the Reid effect, or you were just madly in love with him. Both were quite similar in your view.
âI hurt myself while I was practicing ballet. I made a really bad move.â You spoke up after a few minutes of silence. He frowned when he heard you. He had no idea you played the sport. âI was supposed to have quit, so I didn't tell anyone. Only Emily knew. I didn't treat it until the injury got worse when I went out in the field on a case. That's how I retired from the FBI. My mom freaked out, and my left ankle was screwed up for my whole life.â
Before you turned your attention back to Spencer, you prepared yourself mentally for the sympathy he would undoubtedly show. The curious thing was that in his eyes, there was nothing but interest and gratitude for having allowed him to know more about you. That was what kept you talking.
âThere's an operation to try to fix it, but recovery takes quite some time. I'd rather always take the elevator and avoid the stairs as much as possible than have to rely on Emily to take care of me for three whole months. She has work to do and would go crazy having to be my maid.â
âI would.â He said without hesitation. When you looked curious, he elaborated. âI'd take care of you.â
âFor three whole months?â You asked, sounding rather incredulous and as if you thought maybe he was just being extra nice.
âFor the rest of my life, if you let me.â
September 5th, 2011
âThere's no way you could have seen her, Spence.â
JJ's eyes fell on his friend's not-so-shaky ones, and a part of her churned inside, not knowing what else to say to him. It was eleven o'clock at night, the first time in several days that Spencer had shown up at her house to try to find comfort and perhaps understanding.
âI know, I know it shouldn't be possible.â He replied and went back to pacing the room, trying not to make a sound. The last thing he wanted was to wake up his godson or his friend's husband. âBut it was so real...maybe I'm crazy.â
âYou're not.â She said firmly, getting up from her seat to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
At the time, even he didn't know for sure, and that made him fear that he had lost his mind. He was hungry for a love that he would never have again.
âYou just miss her.â
No, missing was nothing compared to his feelings.
âIt's more than that, much more. I haven't been able to catch my breath since she left.â He admitted, running his hands through his hair as tears formed. âI miss Emily, too, and I don't see her walking down the street.â
Silence fell over the room because no one had anything to say. There weren't enough words to describe the situation. The only sound that could be heard was the man's sobbing on Jennifer's shoulder, trying to be encouraged with words.
âIt's going to be all right, Spence.â
He didn't say it out loud, but he thought he'd never get anything right in his life if all he wanted was you.
March 14th, 2010
The coffee he was carrying kept him warm as he made his way through the chilly FBI offices. Spencer wondered if the air conditioning had broken down when he reached the technical analyst's office and a conversation stopped him in his tracks.
âMy take? She looks like she'll be Mrs. Reid one day.â Penelope's voice was heard after several loose sentences that the boy couldn't understand from the other side of the door. He figured they were talking about him and his relationship with you.
âI hadn't thought about Reid being legally part of my family until now.â Emily spoke next, letting out a few chuckles. âI'm going to have mini geniuses for nephews.â
âStop it, we're just dating.â You spoke with some nervousness, still reeling from the implications. âIt's not like we're getting married tomorrow.â
As he leaned against the wall by the door to hear better, Spencer couldn't help but feel a bit guilty about what he was doing. He knew it wasn't right to overhear other people's conversations, especially if they were about him. But he had a feeling he needed to know what you were saying about him when he wasn't around. It wouldn't hurt to just hear a little bit.
âDon't pretend you don't talk about future names for your babies, I heard you two.â Garcia spoke again.
âIt was a random conversation.â
âAbout baby names?â She gave a little smile and raised an eyebrow.
âWhat I mean is that bringing things forward is not good.â You began to speak, completely ignoring the previous point. You were trying to be the voice of reason in the midst of their ridicule. âBut I'd like him to be the one.â
âI think I'll shed a tear or two because you've grown up so fast.â Your sister commented in a teasing tone that hid quite a bit of truth. She gave your hand a quick squeeze and looked at you for a few seconds before speaking again. âWhat's up with that look on your face?â
You frowned. Spencer's heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. âWhat look?â
âYou know which one I meanâthe one you put on when the coffee runs out.â
Reid's hands began to sweat. He felt like a teenager trying to figure out what the girl he liked really thought of him. Did you ever have doubts about your relationship? Did you ever picture yourself with him in the future? Was he really the one for you?
âThe scariest thing about love is getting hurt.â You said, trying to initiate the idea. Unfortunately, Penelope beat you to it and spoke up.
âI'm sure he wouldn't hurt you.â
âI know, I don't care about that.â You spoke up again after a few seconds, looking around the room as if lost in thought. âWhat if I do it? What if I break his heart?â
Oh, that was certainly not something Spencer was expecting to hear.
âHow would you break his heart? Not answering his calls for five minutes and seven seconds?â Interjected Emily with a teasing tone to try to lighten the mood and get a smile out of you. âI don't think either of you would consciously hurt the other.â
And right after that, the protagonist of the discussion entered the room, causing the three of you to remain silent and pretend that nothing was going on. You could only smile when your boyfriend came in with a hot coffee for you and you saw the tender looks the two women gave you.
âThank you.â You said.
âIt's nothing.â He replied, pulling you close to surprise you with a hug that brought him close enough to your ear to whisper. âYou could never break my heart.â
September 21st, 2011
Ian Doyle was only a couple of meters away.
Spencer's fist throbbed and burned, still stained with the blood of the man who had taken everything from him seven months ago. He knew he had done wrong, that he had promised everyone that he would only talk to the terrorist, and that he had done much more than that. The team had barely been able to get him out of the interrogation room because he was out of control with rage.
He wanted to make him feel a lot of pain and a minimum of what you and Emily probably felt that night.
âYou need to calm down.â JJ came out of the meeting room to stop him before he could go in.
âI'm calm.â He replied, still trying to regulate his breathing. He could see his friend raise an eyebrow, and he decided to speak up again to avoid upsetting her. âThis is about as calm as I can get right now.â
As soon as he was done speaking, Reid tried to keep going to the room, but the woman was in his way again and stopped him from opening the door.
âYou have to be calm for what Hotch has to tell you. I mean it.â Jennifer said, after receiving a confused look. âWhat you're going to see now...â
âI'll be fine.â
Without giving her a chance to say anything else, he opened the door to the room. Spencer thought he'd find photos of the crime scene that ruined his life, maybe some testimony he didn't know about, or even the killer there. But none of that was true, and it made his heart stop.
âHi.â
You certainly broke his heart this time.
#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#matthew gray gubler
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Jealousy, Jealousy (Gavi)
Summary: You realize that Gavi never gets jealous when other guys are around you and it makes you question if he still likes you.Â
Warning(s): None
A/N: Hey! I had some inspiration to write so here I am! Iâm trying to release shorter fics while I work on my longer ones. Requests are open!
Word Count: 2.5k+
Masterlist
The first time it happened, you felt relieved that Gavi had decided not to make a scene and instead chose to calmly defuse the situation.
The two of you had been at a club late one night, the high from Barcelona winning hours before pumping through your veins. He had his arms wrapped around you as you both danced to whatever Spanish song the DJ was mixing.
You laughed as he spun you around before pulling you closer, leaning down to whisper in your ear as he moved a strand of hair out of your face.Â
"I'm going to grab another drink. Want to come?"
His breath was hot against your ear, and even though it felt like a million degrees in the club, and you were sweating through your dress, you still shivered, his voice sending shockwaves through your system no matter how many times you heard it.
You looked up, locking eyes, "I'm good, I'll save our spot."
He kissed the top of your head before letting go, "Ok I'll be back in a second. Try and find the others if you can."
You gave him an awkward thumbs up as he walked away and he chuckled before disappearing into the crowd.
The two of you had been dating for just shy of three weeks.
You had been friends for months before dating, with you initially being introduced to him through his hometown friends. Then there was a three-month period where you both liked each other but were too scared to admit it and ruin the friendship. Finally, Gavi caved after spending two weeks away from you without contact while he playing in the U.S.
Since he admitted his feelings for you that night on the steps of your shitty college house, he had jumped straight into the relationship, inviting you to his games, to hang out with his friends, and private dinners. You on the other hand still felt like an awkward pre-teen girl every time you were with him, he just made you feel giddy inside, and you reacted to things he said so intensely that the only way to cover it up was with strange humor and stupid jokes.
That led you to now. Sometimes being around him was so overwhelming because you were always scared you would say something to embarrass yourself, and although he never made you feel any less worthy you couldn't help but feel like he could be with someone much better than you.
As you stood there contemplating, you felt a body collide with yours, effectively pulling you out of your thoughts.
You stumbled, feeling hands come up to grip your elbows, stabilizing you.
"Shit- my bad."
You looked up seeing the guy holding you sporting a white button-down and an apologetic smile.
"Sorry, those guys just pushed me. Some friends." He said referring to the group of five or so extremely drunk boys behind you.
You shook your head, "No worries, I wasn't paying attention either."
He smiled, leaning a bit closer, hands still on your elbows, "Hey do I know you? You look really familiar.â
You squinted your eyes as you gazed at him, trying to figure out if you knew him.
"Eh I go to Universitat de Barcelona if that helps."
His eyes lit up at your words, and he nodded, "Yeah, that's totally how I know you. I think you're in my biology class."
You groaned, "No way the one at 8 a.m.?", he nodded, "I'm barely awake for that lecture." you muttered.
"Mean either but it's hard not to notice you."
You only heard half his sentence and looked at him confused, "Sorry what?"
His lips tugged up in a smile as he bent down, shifting closer to you, "I said it's hard not to notice you."
You felt your breath stop as you realized what you had gotten yourself into. You made a move to shy away when you heard Gavi call your name.
You lifted your head seeing him approaching as he carried your drink, "Hey who's this?"
You went to interject and tell him it was no one but the guy next to you interrupted, "Hey man, I got to school with her.â
Gavi nodded, accepting his answer as he handed you your drink, "Oh class friend?"
You went to speak but were again cut off by the guy next to you, who had still to let go of your elbow.
"Something like that."
You saw Gavi's posture slightly straighten at his words but he relaxed a second later, "Alright."
The guy turned to you saying something about seeing you in class and then proceeded to give you a hug, his arms wrapping around your lower back.
You noticed Gavi watching the exchange but he made no comment.
You approached him timidly, unsure of if he was going to say anything about the situation, but he paid it no mind, going back to casual conversation with you.
At the time you let out a breath, thankful that he seemed intent on letting you handle your own situation.
That thankfulness soon turned to annoyance and then confusion when similar situations happened time and time again and he made no effort to speak up.
You supposed it was good he never got jealous because you knew it could get very overbearing very fast, and yet, you couldn't help the twinge of defeat you felt every time someone tried to make a move on you and he did nothing to stop them or even show a ounce of emotion.
Slowly it was making you start to question your relationship with Gavi.
Why did he not get jealous? Was it because he didn't see others as a threat? Or didn't feel the need to because you weren't as pretty as the other girls he was seen with? Maybe he simply didn't care? Or perhaps he wasn't the type?
You knew the last one couldn't possibly be true because he was absolutely the type. His entire career was based on his passion, determination, and aggression to get where he wanted. His aggression is what made him so competitive and a loyal player. So if he was so driven and passionate on the field, why was that not carrying over into your relationship?
It wasn't until almost two months later that things came to a boiling point.
It was the last game of the pre-season for Barcelona and spirits were high, everyone hoping they could seal off a great season, and enter a new one, with a win.
The stadium was filled to the brim with fans and reporters. The family section was also full with player's partners and families coming to support them in the final game of the summer.
You were sitting next to Anna, the two of you talking about school, work, and life.
Eventually, the game started and you went into full-on fan mode - cheering along when Barca made impressive plays and booing when they were tackled.
The stadium was abuzz with energy, and you basked in everyone's excitement.
You gripped Anna's hand as you saw Gavi running up the sidelines towards the other team's defense, Joao running parallel to him.
You saw him sidestep, dodging the defender, and suddenly the ball was soaring, perfectly landing at Joao's feet as he placed it into the back of the net.
The two of you jumped up, cheering along with the rest of the crowd. It seemed like Barcelona would have its victory after all.
After the game, you stayed in the family section for a while chatting with Pedri's parents as you waited for the players to make a re-emerge.
You bid goodbye to them when you got a text from Gavi telling you to come down.
You made your way down to the field, waiting behind the barricades for him to appear.
The other team's players appeared first, signing fans t-shirts and taking photos.
"Need something signed?"
You saw a player from the other team approach you, waving a sharpie in his hand.
You pointed at your jersey playfully, "No thanks. I'm a Barca girl if you couldn't tell."
He grinned, "Ahh c'mon what will it take for me to convince you?"
You shrugged your shoulders, "Ride or die sorry."
He clutched his hand to his heart in mock offense, "Ouch. I'm hurt, but I'm not giving up."
You gave him a smile, remaining polite, as you looked over his shoulder for Gavi.
"Oh I know!" he exclaimed, directing your attention back to him.
He wiggled his eyebrows before taking off his shirt, "Here, new jersey for you."
He held it out to you, and you gave him an unimpressed look.
He rolled his eyes playfully, "Alright fine. I'll sign it, but only cause you asked so nicely."
You watched amused as he signed the jersey before offering it to you.
You squinted your eyes at him.
He dangled the jersey in his hands, "C'mon take it. You know a lot of people would pay good money for this."
You reached out to grab it, "Fine, but only because I'm going to sell it later."
He held up his hands in surrender, "It's yours now. Do whatever."
You thought the conversation would end there but he made no effort to leave, "Who are you here with anyway? Someone in Barca?"
You opened your mouth to respond but were cut off.
"Me."
You whipped your head to see that Gavi had silently approached the two of you.
Besides yourself, you felt a tiny part of you waiting with bated breath for him to do something, to finally dig his boots in the ground and say something, but he remained impassive.
"Hey."
"Hey, you ready to go?" Gavi asked.
You nodded your head, unsure of how to leave the situation.
"I can lift you over the barricade if you need." The other player spoke up, and your eyes immediately flitted over to Gavi's to gauge his reaction.
His eyebrows furrowed but he didn't say anything.
You debated for a second, just to get Gavi to react, but quickly decided against it, opting to just walk around the barricade.
You approached the two of them quickly and with a hasty goodbye followed Gavi as he left the pitch. You heard the other player shout a 'see you around', and you waved in response.
You broke the silence first as you walked the empty tunnel, "Great game baby. You did amazing."
"Thanks."
His reply was clipped.
He went to hold your hand and you shifted the jersey last second to your other hand, catching his attention.
"What's that?"
"Oh, that guy gave me his jersey. I'm going to sell it." You explained, telling him how you were expecting to make hundreds.
He listened along till you finished.
"Can I see the jersey?"
You nodded handing it to him.
You swung your joint hands as you walked, talking to him about the game as he examined the jersey.
Abruptly he dropped your hand, mouth set in a firm line.
Your eyebrows stitched together, "What's wrong?"
He cleared his throat before handing you the jersey.
"I think there's something for you on it."
"I forgot something in the locker room, I'll be right back." He continued.
You looked down confused, eyes scanning the text before it clicked.
The jersey had the player's phone number on it.
You lifted your head seeing him already walking away, "Gavi wait. Can you stop for a minute?"
He turned around but continued moving, "Yeah what?"
"Stop moving!â You exclaimed, your frustration building as he continued to not express any interest in the situation.
He finally halted and you closed the distance between the two of you.
"Is there something wrong with me? Do you not like me anymore or something?"
He seemed taken aback by your words and several emotions flitted across his face, "What are you talking about?"
You took a breath, it was now or never.
"I'm not trying to sound conceited, but I'm pretty sure that guy was hitting on me-"
"He was." Gavi confirmed.
You continued, "So then why don't you care? I'm your girlfriend, so why aren't you getting jealous when other guys hit on me?"
"You want me to get jealous?" He asked incredulously.
"I mean I don't want you to become super overprotective or anything, but it would be nice if you at least acknowledged when someone is trying to get with me right in front of you. I know I would get jealous if someone was saying that to you."
"You don't think I get jealous?" His voice had a hard edge to it, and suddenly you felt like you might have read between the lines wrong.
You shrugged your shoulders, unsure, "I mean you don't show it."
"Of course I'm going to notice when some guy is eye fucking my girl one foot away from me, I'm not fucking blind."
"Then why don't you say anything?" You pressed.
âShit y/n that's cause I don't want to scare you away!"
His admission only confused you further, and you lowered your voice acutely aware that your shouts were probably carrying far in the quiet tunnel,
"Scare me away? Why would that scare me?"
He shook his head, "The press is always making me out to be this bad guy. This kid that doesn't know how to get his temper in check and - mierda y/n - I don't want to get into this right now."
You relented, unwilling to give in, biting the bullet, "Alright so next time someone asks to lift me up, their just being friendly right? Trying to be helpful?"
His eyes blazed, "That's not what I meant and you know it."
You lifted your hands in frustration, "No Gavi actually I don't know that. You act like you don't even care."
"I care! Trust me y/n I care!" He argued.
"Then show me."
His lips were on yours before you had even finished processing what you were saying. His skin felt hot against yours as his fingers sank into your hipbone, crowding you against the wall.
You lost your train of thought as you got lost in the sensation he provided you. One hand went to tangle in his hair, as the other draped around his neck bringing him impossibly closer.
One of his hands slipped under your shirt, as he kissed you senseless. You finally pulled away for a breath but he didn't stop, moving to lay a trail of kisses from the sweet spot behind your ear, down your neck, and onto your collarbone.
You left out a soft moan underneath him, the feeling causing tingles in your spine, and a fluttery feeling in your stomach.
"We should really sto- fuck gavi - so-someone could walk in any moment." You reminded him.
"Just gotta leave a mark." He replied.
You nodded before his words caught up to you and you pushed him off, "What? No marks! I have to meet your parents tonight." You whined.
He grinned, not looking the least bit apologetic, "At least people will know you're mine now."
#pablo gavi#pablogavi#pablo gavi imagine#footballer imagine#football imagine#football#footballer#football player#Gavi#gavi imagine#gavi imagines#gavi x reader#gavi fluff#gavi angst#gavi fluf#gavi blurb#gavi one shot#FC Barcelona#FC Barca#FC Barça
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Three Times Again
Pairing â Hyunjin & Reader Wordcount â 6,171 words Includes â Fem!reader, mentions of alcohol consumption, smut (warnings under the cut). Author's Note â Finished college, graduated with a psychology degree and a 98.8/100 general score, I now have a serious, serious job and I haven't written anything in eight or nine months so this is the best I can do at this point. This might be a bit rusty but honestly I'm happy I was able to write something for the first time in so long. Don't think I forgot about you folks, I never will! Hope you didn't forget about me either.
Smut Warnings â Virgin AND inexperienced reader paired with somewhat experienced male character, best friends trope. Use of petnames, praise and worship if you squint, very very delicate smut if i'm being honest. Fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, lots of making out and kisses, protected sex, mentions and use of condom, piv.
It was bound to happen.
Hyunjin knew it. You knew it. All of your friends knew it.Â
Rather sooner than later, it was just bound to happen.Â
The four walls on his bedroom and the remnants of the incense smoke are lively witnesses of the tension unraveling âa tension that lasted enough for the two of you, and that is now slowly causing havoc with each of your heartbeats.
It all started with a simple, pointless "truth or dare" kind of game, you and your friend's very own rendition: truth or shot. You asked each other's questions, and you could choose between replying or chugging down a shot of liquid courage. No room for those "lick the floor" or "text your ex" shenanigans.Â
Of course the catch was that after 3 or 4 rounds, your headspace wasn't as sober as initially. And after a series of shots, one would eventually start spitting out just truths that cannot be spoken after the sun rises.
âDonât think about it,â Hyunjin begs in between kisses, dragging his swollen lips along your shoulders and neck. His hands are roaming underneath your clothes, getting familiar with your body while feeling your warmth. âPlease, donât think about itâ.Â
You can't. And you try not to.Â
At least not when the sensations of his wet lips teasing your skin becomes too much to handle in a span of minutes, or when the ghost trailing of his fingertips against your flesh is making you turn desperate for him.
But it is difficult.
âWe shouldnât be doing this,â you whisper, the logical, still functioning part of your brain tries to protest. Despite how aroused you are, and despite how receptive your body is to that of Hyunjin's. âWeâre- youâre my best friend Hyunjinâ.Â
âAnd youâre mine,â he hums against your skin, only lifting his gaze when you bury your fingers a bit too harshly onto his dark hair locks, âis that so wrong?â
His words get underneath your skin in ways that they shouldn't, and you start kissing your rationality goodbye as Hyunjin nibbles softly at the flesh where your shoulders and neck connect.
âYouâre- we are going to regret this,â you exhale, ironically locking your arms around his neck. Your words are only saying much, but your body is risking it all to let him know that you want this just as much as he does. âWhat if- you wake up tomorrow and think this was a mistake?â
The dark-haired lets out a quiet groan, filled with both amusement and despair. âHow can this be a mistake?â he asks, moving one of his hands from your hips to your thighs, sneaking it between your shorts and your underwear, âhow can it be a mistake when I've waited years to have you like this, all for me?â.Â
You arch your back against the palm of his hand.Â
âHyunjin,â you exhale his name once again, but you're not quite sure what for. It could be a plea, or the beginning of a sentence you can't begin to articulate in a situation like this. It could also be the familiarity of the word falling from your lips in between moans âyou would be such a filthy liar if you were to deny having touched yourself while thinking about your friend before.Â
Either way, Hyunjin never really thought of his name that much until now, that he's hearing you moaning it.Â
âYeah?â he asks with a weak hum, getting lost in the way you smell, âtalk to meâ.Â
âF-fuck,â you murmur weakly, the stinging feeling of tears pricking on the corners of your eyes. Youâre about to cry, but you don't know why. Blame it on the alcohol, the sudden release of that secret you've kept years locked inside of you, or the overwhelming sensation Hyunjinâs skin is, âpromise me something-â.Â
Your friend is all too busy engraving every single inch of your skin into his brain. Every freckle, mole and stretch mark, he needs to memorize your flesh like it's a map. He wants to remember how it looks underneath the dim light of his room, proof that this all happened and it's not just another wet dream of his.
âAnything,â he says, with such a raspy voice it's vibrations travel from the skin spilling out from your bra up until your throbbing center, âask me anythingâ.Â
You gather all your courage within you to lift your upper body from the mattress, resting your weight on your forearms and causing Hyunjin to take a slight step back from you.
âPromise me this isn't going to change a thing in our friendship,â you murmur, your chest moving up and down almost frantically. Hyunjin's dark eyes are all over yours, with a subtle furrow in his brows that just tells you he's still trying to get a hold on everything that's happening. âPromise me, Hyunjinâ.Â
You're honestly asking for a lot. How can he promise such a thing, when he is already missing the warmth of your skin? How can he pretend nothing is going to change, when tomorrow he will wake up with the ghostly feeling of your pussy around his dick?
Hyunjin will say yes. Hyunjin will say that he promises you something he knows he is not going to fulfill. And honestly, he can play pretend. You're not going to be able to tell, and he is not going to say it.Â
But Hyunjin knows everything is going to change the minute he gets to feel your lips on his again. He knows nothing will ever be the same once he bottoms out inside you, hearing you moaning and gasping while he fucks you however you ask him to.
âI promise,â he swallows the lie thickly, staring at you between furrowed eyebrows. âI fucking promise just- please let me have you, pleaseâ.Â
You're staring at each other with hitched breath, rapid heartbeats and an insane amount of uncertainty neither of you can sort out.Â
âPlease let me taste you,â Hyunjin plants a chaste kiss right above your hip bone.
And then another.Â
And another.
And another.
âPlease,â he begs again, humming your name. âLet me make you feel real goodâ.Â
You close your eyes in defeat, getting immersed in the way his hot lips feel against your tummy. He is kissing, and licking, and nibbling at your flesh, it's practically impossible not to give in when all that's left is your word consenting to it.
âPlease,â Hyunjin insists, the tip of his fingers grazing against the hems of your skirt and underwear. âSay you want this just as much as I doâ.Â
You whine, kicking your head back.
âSay it,â he repeats, whispering your name. âI need to hear it from you. I need to know that you want me like I want youâ.Â
âI want this,â you finally confess. âI want this- fuck, I want you, Hyunjinâ.Â
The words leave your lips with a shakily breath, and you think it might be the release of it all.
His lips crash into yours once again, and you realize how much you missed his taste despite having kissed him just minutes ago. Hyunjin's saliva tastes like plum soju, mint and your strawberry gloss, and your heart skips a beat at the realization that this is real, that this is happening âyour taste and essence lingers in Hyunjin's mouth, and there's no turning back now.Â
The closer your bodies are, the more your fragrances mix. You can't tell his smell apart from yours, and he can't tell either âyour hands smell like his lotion, and his shirt smells like your perfume.
Your mind spirals into all the sensations he is providing you with, that is until his hands sneak underneath your blouse and you get to feel his hot flesh against the sides of your body.
Then, your mind goes blank.
Your blood boils, you feel the heat rising to your chest, cheeks and ears. You feel exposed, in a way, but you're sure things aren't going to end there.
Hyunjin has seen nothing of you just yet.
"Can I take this off?" His hands are still attached to your waist underneath your clothes, and as far as you're concerned he could be talking about your shirt or your bra. You want those two off anyways, so you nod and agree to whatever he is thinking.
Things unfold in slow motion to your eyes, but everything is happening pretty fast, actually. In the blink of an eye your blouse is scattered around his bedroom floor, and it doesn't take too long before his t-shirt is joining yours there, too.Â
Between all the kisses and pettings, you feel the loss of his warmth when he takes a step back. Then, you feel really exposed.
Apart from your heavy breaths and fast heartbeats, the room is completely quiet. So quiet it scares you, so you break the silence with a muffled "what?".
Hyunjin's straight eyebrows furrow just slightly, and he parts his lips to say something yet nothing comes out of them. Nothing but a deep, trembling exhale; it sounds like the equivalent to being able to finally breath after being underwater for so long.
âWhat, Hyunjin?â You repeat with a stern voice, fearing he might've started to regret the whole thing. He is unreadable âas far as you're concerned, he could be having second thoughts about this stupid idea. You wouldn't blame it for it.
But when he drops to his knees in front of you, and his hands find the waistband of your skirt, you get the sense that he might not be regretting any of this at all.
âSo pretty,â he mutters, with rounded eyebrows like crescent moons and big, open eyes as he stares up at you, âyouâre so, so prettyâ.Â
The compliment takes your breath away, and the skin on your nape and back short-circuits as if an explosion of electricity itâs taking place underneath your flesh.
"You really think so?" You're not quite sure what prompts you to ask such a question, but you figure you should let yourself get loose. The last thing you want for tonight is to hold back, because that isn't the idea.
You're doing this with Hyunjin for a reason, and said reason is because you trust him.
Without holding back, without overthinking, without hesitating. There will be plenty of time to reflect on whatever happens tonight, but right now isn't the time.
At least not when Hyunjin is kneeling in front of you, holding so much adoration in his eyes you swear you finally feel those butterflies people keep talking about.
âI know so,â he reiterates, âjust look at youâ.Â
Your eyes fall to where his hands meet with your skirt, and this time he asks for consent with just his gaze. You nod and swallow thickly, watching as his fingers expertly dance along the hems of your skirt.
You want to shy away, to cover yourself and evaporate into thin air âat the same time, Hyunjin wants to look at you. You want him to be the first one to see you naked, to touch parts of your body nobody has before. You want to see his expression, to wonder what he will do when the realization of having you in his bed finally sinks in.
Because up until now, everything feels like a fever dream to him.
You stand in front of the edge of his bed, and watch as he undresses you. His hands trace the path of the skirt, from your thighs to your calves, and only looks up when it reaches your ankles, signaling for you to step out of it.
The color and fabric of your panties match those of the bra, and for a split second Hyunjin feels played.Â
Did you plan it? Have you been thinking about this as much as he has?
It could be a coincidence, but it isn't âat some point throughout the night, you and Hyunjin were bound to happen. And you both knew it.
âFuck,â he curses under his breath, standing up from the floor right in front of you. His eyes are all over your face, his hands are shy and you get the feeling that he might kiss you, but all he does is press his lips against yours and murmurs, âyou make me feel so- fuck, I donât even knowâ.Â
You appreciate Hyunjin's sincerity, because honestly you don't know either. All you know is the adrenaline running through your veins, and the palpitations you feel underneath your left rib cage and between your thighs.
All you know is that you want Hyunjin to fuck you. Whether it's painful, or not. Whether you get to feel some pleasure, or not. All you want is for him to be your first, to be the one you experience sex for the first time like everyone around you already has.
It's actually more complicated than that, than just experiencing, but you don't dwell on it for long.
âDonât think about it too much,â you suggest, just as fazed as he is. âDonât think about anything just- do whatever you wantâ.
Hyunjin is unsure of what he is doing, judged by the hesitation behind his movements. He holds you by the small of your back and presses you tightly against his body, so close the tip of your noses are grazing against each other.
âStop me if I hurt you,â he whispers with shortness of breath, âalright?â
You nod and swallow thickly, âokayâ.Â
Inevitably, Hyunjin feels a pressure over his shoulders. He knows it is your first time.Â
You deserve something memorable, something that it's all about you.Â
Sure, his dick is hard and throbbing, and he swears he is one second away from exploding inside his pants, but he is willing to leave his pleasure aside for yours.
He'd have other opportunities to get his dick wet and other chances to experiment. Right now it should be all about you, about making you feel good.
And under that thought, he kisses you again.Â
Soft and slowly, dragging the tip of his fingers along the middle of your back. His tongue brushes against yours and you completely forget about the concept of oxygen.
It doesn't matter now that Hyunjin's breath is everything you need to respire.
His fingers keep lingering in the hooks of your bra, and it surprises you how he is able to get it off of you on his own.
"No man ever gets it right the first time," your best friend had told you amidst laughter. But Hyunjin just did in his first try. He is just naturally good at everything he does; excelling at random tasks, always getting things perfectly from the very start.
You hardly think about how naked you're in comparison to him, because he presses his chest to yours and your breasts become squeezed by his golden skin. You feel your nipples hardening against him, and youâre fully aware he can feel them too.
Fuck, he can feel them. And his cock gets even harder by that alone.Â
âLet me see you,â Hyunjin whispers under his breath, but you wrap your arms around his neck, preventing him from taking a step back from you. You shake your head, feeling abruptly overwhelmed by his embrace, as well as the cold air hitting your skin.
âNo one has ever seen me naked,â you say.
He knows.
âI want to see you, if you let me,â he swallows thickly, brushing his nose against yours. âPlease, let me see youâ.
Hyunjin feels your arms releasing some strength, falling limp over his shoulders, and he takes that as an opportunity to walk back just enough to see you.
All of you.
Everything he shouldn't fantasize about, but he does.Â
âGod,â he exhales with a strangled breath, doing everything he possibly can to remain collected.
But it's irrational, and impossible. How can he remain calm when you're standing naked in front of him? Your skin is covered in goosebumps, your nipples are hard and the dark, wet patch on your cotton underwear just tells him that your body needs something only he can give you. How can he be calm throughout any of this?
He canât, and he is finally coming to terms with it.
âItâs not fair,â you murmur, slyly crossing your arms over your chest, âIâm practically naked, and you still have your pants onâ.Â
Hyunjin listens, but decides to ignore you. Instead, his hands find your crossed arms and he motions for you to drop them, pressing his lips against yours to kiss you one more time.
He swears he might never get tired of kissing you, ever.
âLay down,â he presses desperate, short kisses against your lips, and you follow his guidance until your back meets the softness of the comforter.
His hands hold the sides of your body, only to drag the last piece of clothing off from your body. And it happens all too fast, that you don't even have time to shy away. Hyunjin lays down between your spread legs, with his hands and arms hooked underneath your thighs, half-lidded eyes looking right at yours.
âRemember,â Hyunjin warns, and the feeling of his warm breath against your core feels too weird and unfamiliar, you mean to close your legs around him but he doesn't allow you to, âtell me if I hurt youâ.Â
Your heart would have exploded inside your chest at the sight, but it doesn't until Hyunjin's tongue meets your pussy for the first time. Then, you feel your heartbeats ringing loudly in your ears.
âShit,â you curse under your breath, holding up your weight with your forearms.
âYouâre dripping wet,â he murmurs, nose brushing against your clit while his tongue collects all your arousal, âyou must have been wanting this for so longâ.
You writhe under his hold, feeling weakened by his words. Your chest feels heavy, and there's a tension on your lower back that prompts you to grind your hips against his face, practically begging for him to do something.
And he does âthe tip of his digits slide against your folds, exploring you. He focuses his tongue on your clit, and by that alone you swear you're seeing stars. You thought the stimulation would pretty much feel like your fingers or toys, but it's nothing close to that. It feels foreign, out of your control, and you like that.
âHow do you touch yourself?â Hyunjin asks with a deep voice you swear you can't recognize.Â
Instead of replying, you guide one of your hands to his, that is already wet and sticky, and take two of his fingers, âput them insideâ.Â
He follows your orders, sinking his index and middle finger with such an ease it surprises both of you. Normally, it would take you a while to get wet on your own âright now, it seems that your body is reacting to Hyunjin much faster than you expected.
âSo fucking warm,â the mutter is more to himself than to you, but you still catch it. And for some reason, the sound of his voice makes you clench harder around his fingers, âand so tightâ.Â
âDonât say that,â you kick your head back, closing your eyes shut.
âI know you like it,â he says, a small smile creeping through the corners of his lips, âI can feel itâ.Â
There it is, again. Your walls flutter around his fingers, squeezing them softly at every word he says.
âYou like it when I tell you how wet you are?â Hyunjinâs voice is gradually lower now, and his choice of words has the desired effect on you, âdonât lie, I can feel you getting tighterâ.Â
This may be better than any lie detector the world has come to know. Discovered by none other than Hyunjin, right before any other guy all over you could.
âShit,â you curse under your breath, your fingers instinctively latching to his black hair. You don't mean to pull it, but you find yourself using it as leverage, and Hyunjin finds himself groaning at it, âseems like I've discovered something about you tooâ.
He smiles and presses his lips and nose further against you, pretending to know every single inch of your core with his tongue. It's the first time he has you like this, and he isn't quite sure if he is doing alright âa couple of soft whimpers and quiet, strangled moans are falling from your lips, but that isnât enough for Hyunjin.
"What else do you do?" He asks, and the question comes out more as a whimper than a casual, nonchalant voice. He is clearly affected by all of this, and you can tell by his hips rut against his bed as he touches you. âWhen you touch yourself, what else do you do?âÂ
One of your hands leaves his dark hair, and guide to your breasts. It always goes a little bit like that âyour dominant hand maneuvers the toy against your clit, and your other hand focuses on your breasts and nipples, pinching and twisting them as you like.
Fuck, well, that's going to be a sight imprinted in Hyunjin's mind forever. The way your back arches as soon as your fingers tease your nipples, the way your chest elevates with a deep inhale. The way your hips buck against Hyunjin's touch, and how your toes curl just slightly at the stimulation.
He soon focuses again on his task, pumping two of his fingers inside you while his tongue takes care of your clit that has become more swollen than initially.Â
He is doing anything he can to get to know you, to see how his touch is affecting you. And when his middle finger touches a spot inside your walls that he hadn't before, and you let out a guttural moan of his name, Hyunjin stops short.
âDid I-âÂ
He must think he hurt you. But it's all quite the opposite.Â
âRight there,â you shake your head frantically, acquiring strength from, practically, nowhere to push your body up in your forearms again, âshit, again, do it againâ.
And he complies. His middle finger curls, and the reaction he gets is the same, if not more pronounced, from you.
âYouâre fucking dripping,â repeatedly, he manages to find a pace of his own. His fingers move slowly and deliciously inside of you, almost always touching that spot that has you moaning louder than before. That, added with the suck of his mouth around your clit, sends you to cloud 9.
You've never felt this before, on your own, and it scares you.
It feels more intense, and slightly painful. Your lower back hurts, you're sweating and you fear you might pee.Â
It definitely feels as if you're going to pee.
âHyunjin!â You gasp, your hands pushing him away, âI feel- âm gonna make a messâ.Â
His heart is beating loud in his ears, and he feels the pressure of your thighs squeezing his face. The quick thought that he might be hurting you flies across Hyunjin's mind, but is quickly discarded when your hips move in sensual circles against him.
You must be close.
âWait!â You gasp, and Hyunjin withdraws from between your legs, but his fingers continue fucking your pussy with an increased pace, âG-god, fuck, Iâm-â.
Youâre babbling, not making any sense. And Hyunjin feels his dick leaking precum, sticking to his underwear. Never in all his years of life had he been this hard, and it's hurting him to no end. At the same time, it feels deliciously torturing.Â
He just fears he might come untouched.
âClose?â Hyunjin asks, and you just nod frantically.Â
As if an expert, his palm hits your clit every time he bottoms his fingers out inside of you. A part of him tells him he should position himself back between your legs and make you come with his mouth and fingers; the other, however, urges him to crawl up, between kneeling and lying next to you, as his available hand guides your chin to him.
The sight is even better like this, Hyunjin thinks âyour teary eyes and the hair sticking to your forehead and cheeks with sweat is something he might never be able to forget.
The way you're staring at him like you're scared, and confused, and oh so aroused. He is the reason behind your body shaking and your hands gripping the bed sheets underneath you; the reason behind your cries and whimpers, and the wetness between your legs.
All because of him.
"I think I'm coming," you manage to spit out in a strangled breath, and soon after lose complete control over your body.
Your back arches against his bed, your legs close around his wrist, and your body threatens to push him away. But Hyunjin doesn't let you âhe embraces you, holding you in place as you ride your high.Â
âThere you go,â he murmurs, with a soft smile creeping through the corners of his lips.
Your trembling hand wraps around his bicep, and you can barely open your eyes without tearing up. Whatever just happened, you haven't experienced it before.
âHyunjin,â you whimper yet again, feeling how your walls clench over and over around his fingers. It tired you, both mentally and physically âyour toes feel funny from clenching them much, your legs are sore from being spread open for a while now, and your hips feel tired from all the tension that suddenly snapped minutes ago, âholy fuck, Hyunjinâ.Â
âIâm right here,â he tells you while leaving a quick kiss on your lips.
And then another.
And another.
And another, until it turns into a proper kiss, one that isnât nearly as sloppy or fast as the ones he offered you before. This time, Hyunjin kisses you slowly, carefully, almost as if he is trying to soothe all that tension with his lips.
You place your hands on either side of his face, and he does the same âwith ease, he manages to position himself on top of you, with so much care not to put all his weight on top. Hyunjin only breaks the kiss to look at you, and the way your lips form a subtle "o" when you feel his erection pressed against your lower abdomen is enough for him to run out of breath.
âWe donât have to- I mean, we donât have to do it tonight,â Hyunjin murmurs, his lips barely touching yours. âWe can stop right here, Iâm okay with-âÂ
âLetâs do it,â you notice how he swallowed thickly and how his bright eyes resembling a deer caught in the headlights stare at you with just the same amount of fear and lust.Â
To be your first; to mess around together, to experience what sex is all about.
You want this, and he wants this just as much. There's trust, and there is a promise ânothing can go wrong because that's exactly why you're doing it with each other.
Because there's no one else in this world you trust more than Hyunjin.
âOkay,â he exhales, backing away from your body to fully undress himself. And although it's not prohibited to look, you feel insanely awkward when your eyes meet his figure.
Hyunjin doesn't show much skin, not even during the summer days when you visited the beach or his parent's lake house. Seeing him shirtless was already much of a shock, but seeing him fully naked? That is a whole other story.
You feel your cheeks blushing and you need to look away before Hyunjin catches you staring, but it is already too late.Â
âIâm sorry,â you whisper, forcing yourself to keep contact with his eyes rather somewhere else.
Hyunjin licks his lips, and he does so in such a swift movement that it barely registers in your mind. But it does, and you can't stop thinking how attractive he is, and how awfully aroused he is making you feel. It's like your body has a mind of its own, one that's completely enticed by him.
âCâme here,â he kneels in the bed again, hovering your body. His erection pressed against your lower abdomen once again, and you let out an unexpected, almost embarrassing moan just by that alone.
He is hard, and his dick feels warm. You can't help but sneak a hand between your bodies and wrap it around him, making him curse under his breath.
It's the first time you see (in real life, anyway) and touch a dick; you're not sure what you were expecting, but the feeling of it isn't bad. However, it isnât as nice as the sight of Hyunjin's eyes closed shut, and his bottom lip caught between his lips.
âIf you touch me again, I'm going to come,â he warns you.
âAnd isnât that what you want?â You ask, stroking him softly. Youâre barely discovering how to touch him, but thereâs something pleasant about the way youâre exploring him.
âNot before fucking you,â Hyunjin tells you, âI have to make you feel good againâ.
He straightens his body slightly and puts a condom on. It is tight around the base, and too slippery for his own liking, but he can't complain about it when you're patiently waiting for him.Â
Your eyes never abandon his figure, and just the sight of him unwrapping a fucking condom and putting it on is more than enough to make you clench around thin air. And you're too lost in that thought, of how strikingly beautiful Hyunjin looks tonight, that you don't feel any sort of panic until the tip of his dick slides against your slit.
This is really happening, you think to yourself, and suddenly all the oxygen from the room has vanished, leaving you with a heavy chest and an awful sensation that you're choking.
âYou okay?â He asks when he catches a glimpse of your furrowed eyebrows.
âJust nervous,â your eyes dart between his face and the parts of your bodies where you almost meet. You've heard awful stories about first times, involving a lot of pain and discomfort; why would yours be any different than those?
You feel your heart beating in anticipation, and your throat gets dry.
âI'm not going to hurt you,â Hyunjin says, leaning down to kiss you, âIâll be carefulâ.Â
You nod, because you know he is telling the truth. So you brace yourself by holding his biceps, watching as he guides his dick inside of you.
âInhale,â he tells you, and you follow. Your lungs get filled with fresh air until they hurt, until you no longer can harbor any more oxygen.
And only then, the tip of it slides right in easily, with just the tiniest bit of discomfort âyour fingers and toys are not close to the size he is.
âFuckâ.Â
âLet it all out,â and you exhale deeply, relaxing underneath him as he finally bottoms out. He stays there, without moving, feeling how your walls adapt to his girth. Hyunjin kisses your cheek, and snuggles his face in the crook of your neck to leave a couple of them there, too, âgood jobâ.Â
You whimper, wrapping your arms around his neck just as your legs wrap around his hips.
His weight on top of you feels nice, just as it does having him inside of you. But you're desperate to know how he really feels, so you prompt him to move.
âIâll go slow,â and he sticks to his word. His thrusts are slow, but deep âevery time he bottoms out, you moan.
You're just getting used to him, so the way he is fucking you is more than enough for now. And it is enough for him, too âif he goes any faster, he is sure he will come.
But he maintains a certain pace, and your bodies get to meet each other in a way they hadn't before.Â
âDoes it feel good?â You ask him in a murmur, and he hums in response.
âSo good,â his eyes never leave yours. âYou feel so good, your pussy feels so goodâ.
You bite your lips, wanting to hold back whatever reaction his words elicit from you.Â
There's something lewd about his voice, and the way he says things tonight. There's something lewd in the way you like it, too.
âYou feel good too,â you compliment him, caressing the sides of his face. âWant to come again, with youâ.Â
Hyunjin nods, as if youâre giving him an order for him to follow. But you might as well have, because he takes it upon himself to give you what you want. One of his hands sneak between your sweaty bodies, and albeit difficult, he manages to position the tip of his fingers over your clit, rubbing it at the same pace as his thrusts.
âOh my God,â you whisper, closing your eyes shut when you feel a pinch of pain from the overstimulation.Â
It's crazy how many things Hyunjin has learned about you in the past hour.
âDoes it feel good when I touch you like this?â He manages to ask, and you nod frantically.
His hand then withdraws from your clit, and when you're about to protest, you notice his mouth is leaning closer to your chest, âwhat-â.Â
He then latches his tongue around one of your hardened nipples, and you become a mess of whimpers underneath him.
âAnd this?â Hyunjin asks with his lips attached to the flesh of your breast, âdoes it feel good when I do this?â
You might as well have figured something about you.
âIt feels so good, Hyunjin,â you chant, with teary eyes that threaten to start bawling in ecstasy, âso good, fuck, so goodâ.
He continues, sucking on your nipple while his fingers tease the other. And you really seem to like it because you can't stop moaning, because all your hands do is to force him even more against your chest.Â
âSqueezing me so good,â Hyunjin mutters under his breath, losing control of himself as he feels you clenching around him. He's drooling over your breasts, swollen and pink lips dragging across your flesh while his hips start spasming, âGod, youâre so fucking tightâ.
You sneak a hand between your bodies, and when your digits brush against your clit, you feel your body jolting, and the tension threatening to unravel.Â
You're so close, again.
And you hope he is close too.
âIâm-â You don't manage to finish the sentence when Hyunjin's fingers replace yours, âHyunjin!â
You mean to keep your eyes open, to look at him in between, but you finally give up to the overwhelming pleasure. You close them shut, and all you're left with is the feeling of Hyunjin's body against yours, and the sounds you and him are eliciting from each other.Â
âClose?â And you nod frantically, tightening your limbs around him âyour arms around his neck, your legs around his lower back.Â
Youâve hugged Hyunjin before, but nothing will ever compare to this; to your naked bodies pressing together, to his lips murmuring sweet nothings against yours.Â
To share something as intimate as an orgasm can be.
âComing,â you whisper weakly, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. And at the same time, Hyunjin lets out a painful, choked groan.
His throat hurt at it, but not nearly as much as the tension finally unraveling did.Â
Not as much as the sight of your hazy eyes looking up at him as you both come down from your highs.
Not as much as the realization that it was all over.
âHyunjin,â you whimper again, and your loud heartbeats, and the way you're still clenching around him is preventing him from listening to your voice. He sees your lips moving, but he is too far gone in the bliss of his orgasm to care.
âGod,â you close your eyes shut and hide your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.Â
You donât want him to let go of you, to pull out. You want to stay like this for as long as youâre able to.
And Hyunjin wants it too, plopping all of his weight carefully on top of you. He presses a kiss to your temple, and then your forehead. Nothing in his life has ever felt this good before, and he fears he might not be able to live a moment like this again.
"Did I hurt you?" He just has to ask again, now that you're settled between his arms.
You shake your head subtly, and look up at him with so much gloss and sentiment he feels a pinch of hope you feel the same way he feels about you.Â
"Not once," you exhale, offering the most beautiful smile Hyunjin has seen on you.
And when you press a quick peck to his lips and snuggle right next to him, with your head on his chest and your hand over his abdomen,Â
he just knows it will happen again.Â
And again.
And again.
And again.
Bonus note: If you liked this, PLEASE let me know. I'm kind of nervous putting this out there because I've been away for so long, I'm not even sure if this is any good. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. It is nice to connect with past hobbies to be honest.
Love you all! And take care!
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ââââŻPAIRING: aventurine x fem!reader
CHAPTER SYNOPSIS: Â Out of everyone this couldâve happened to, of course, it struck you. As a barista, you meet new customers every day but a fateful encounter with a stupid(ly handsome) stranger, turns into two and three and to the point of no return, and somewhere along the way catching yourself faltering for his persistent charms annoyance.
WORDCOUNT: 4.2k
CONTENT & GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, barista!reader, cursing, light angst if you squint, fluff, march is the n1 shipper, vague mentions of ratio, banter and bickering (more from readers side), no beta-read we die like baiheng
AUTHOR'S NOTE: the last chapter was posted like 2 weeks ago? i think not sure. sorry guys i just had no motivation in the previous few weeks at all đđ but here it is, enjoy! also just cause this took super long to write doesn't equal it being super good đ
ART CREDITS: none of the characters or art belong to me all art credits go to @/kkuekkue on x!
TAGLIST: @azullumi,@sunananaa, @milksnake-tea, @iceunhie, @nayukiyukihira, @jjzlisu, @raideneiari (if you want to be added to the tag list write a comment or send me an off anon ask! ^^)
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âOrder for uh.â you abruptly stop your sentence. Furrowing your brow in confusion you look at the questionable name that is written on the paper cup that youâre currently holding in your hand. Your gaze drifts over to the barista behind you. âMarch..â you whisper through gritted teeth, trying to maintain a smile while pausing for a brief moment to study the face of the girl with the cotton candy-like hair.Â
The short girl hums quietly, âWhat is it?â she tilts her head to the side, a milk-frothing pitcher in her right hand, almost empty. âAnd why are we whispering?â admittedly youâre not even sure yourself, after all, people come up with silly names all the time, so why are you refraining from saying this name out loud?
âWell, I'm whispering because I don't want the other customers to listen into our conversation, but, are you sure that you wrote the right name here?â you ask the girl behind you doubtfully before directing your view towards the letters that were written in cursive and were adorned by little stars and flowers drawn by none other than March.Â
The '*â˘.¸âĄđđżđŽđˇđ˝đžđťđ˛đˇđŽ âĄÂ¸.â˘*' which she wrote in cursive (and if you may add, kind of crooked) made you raise your eyebrows as you held the cup in front of her face for her to see.
She always had a habit of drawing cute smiley faces or hearts onto the cups, reasoning it by saying that itâd sweeten the customers' day. Although youâre not sure if thatâs really necessary, their day probably already gets sweetened enough from the amount of sugar and sweetener March puts into the drinks.
She huffs, feigning hurt and acting offended by your question âIf you want to suspect someone, blame her!â Marchâs eyes drift over to the silver-haired girl who is currently sitting next to the trash can near the staff rooms, playing video games and thus blocking the way: Stelle.Â
The girl in question quickly lifts her head and just smiles sheepishly as if not knowing whatâs going on right now. âSheâs the one who gave me the receipts and told me the names before you took over, I just added the condiments and started creating cute latte art!.â you sigh at that. Well, whoever gave Stelle their name will probably be able to recognize it sooner or later anyway.Â
The worst case scenario that could probably happen is the customer putting their hands on the counter and starting to scream and yell at you to the point where their spit lands in your eyes. Urging to talk to your manager: Pompom. If the customer would see them the customer would probably start scolding you for bringing out the mascot instead of the manager, leaving the shop and giving you zero stars on Maps. (definitely not talking from any former experiences.) Yeah, hopefully, that wonât happen.
You let out a throaty cough before loudly shouting once again âOrder for Aventurine!â you really wonder whose mom named their kid after a quartzite stone now â hell, if you let your guard down, the next person who youâd have to call up is someone named Ashleigh or Jonaslian.Â
Whatâs up with women who are only maybe one or two decades older than, and their obsession with horrible baby names?
âHelloooâ the o of the greeting gets dragged out by the owner of the sing-song voice. âEarth to the cashier.â The next thing you know is a hand that is covered in a black leather glove, waving at your face, moving in a repetitive up-and-down motion. The gesture makes you snap out of the haze which you were in, and slightly shake your head, before looking up at the customer and getting a good glance at them. Â
In front of you stood possibly the hottest man youâve ever seen. Blond silky hair and was dressed in a crisp black waistcoat that was draped around his slim torso, wearing a turquoise button-up underneath it that was adorned with gold decorations around his collar. His tie that matched his waistcoat was adjusted perfectly so that it sat in the right place. Black leather gloves envelop his slender fingers.Â
The last time you were enamored by someone was when you were 9 reaching 10, and seeing Asami Sato bumping into Mako with her motorcycle on TV for the first time made you fall head over heels in love with her. That woman had younger you in a chokehold.
You feel your body tensing and heating up slightly. Fuck, has it always been this warm here? Your eyes sway over to the air conditioner behind you. No, that can't possibly be it, you made sure that the A/C was on the highest level before opening the cafe.Â
The blond in front of you raises his eyebrow and looks at you expectantly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as his eyes shift over your face as if studying your expression. Thereâs amusement that settles onto his face â smugness would be the best word to describe it.
 Shit, there was no way he found out that you were fawning over him.
âTake a picture. It lasts longer sweetheart.â he shoots you a small wink and youâre not sure whether to feel impressed or horrified at the fact that he was able to read you as easily as an open book where the most important words are already highlighted in a bold colour.Â
So you remain silent â speechless, to be precise. Thereâs a familiar feeling bubbling up in your chest, one that makes you all giddy and nervous. How can someone whom you never met enarmour you so much? Itâs weird, but itâs weirder that it feels all too familiar. Suspicion arises within you.
âHmm?â Aventurine â or whatever his name may be, tilts his head to the side, a questioning and innocent expression manifesting on his face that it almost makes him look like a young boy who still has to grasp the concepts of the many fundamentals of the world.
âSpacing out already? Am I that handsome?â Yeah, keyword: almost.
It takes a second to compose yourself again before speaking up again. âYeah.â Your eyes form into crescent moons as you give him a small faux smile (how March likes to call it: your customer service smile) before your face contorts into an expression of unpleasantness âNo, in your dreams Mister. Also please hurry up, youâre holding up the line.â You point behind him and he angles his head backwards to see..no one?
âThereâs no one there.â This time itâs him who looks unimpressed, a deadpan expression gracing over his features and you do have to admit that he looks kind of cute with that expression. Oh god, what were you thinking? âYou know youâll have to do better than try to tri-â
Before he can even finish his sentence you quickly cut him off. âWith cash or with card?â Your customer service smile from before finds its way onto your face once more. âMiss, youâre so cruel! You didnât even let me fini-â âI repeat. With cash or with card?âÂ
Your patience was running thin. Lucky for him heâs somewhat respectful and cute while bothering you and not going on your nerves. If he were some weirdo, you wouldâve scurried away already. People like him (unfortunately) remind you that pretty privilege does exist.Â
His gloved hand dives into the depths of the pockets of his slacks before pulling out a leather wallet and revealing a black card. Oh great, a rich guy. âWith card.â he sighs dramatically. Do all rich people behave like this? âSir, this is a cafĂŠ not an acting audition for some teenage romance drama.â Youâre not sure what to think of this guy, on one hand, his attempts are cute on the other itâs kind of weird that heâs flirting with a cashier whom he met 5 minutes ago. âJust.â You hesitate before speaking up again. âJust type your PIN in here and youâre done.â He nods and continues to do so which the small sound the machine makes confirms.Â
At that, you give him a small nod as a gesture of thankfulness, before attempting to kick him out again. âGreat, thank you. Now please go and I wish you a good day.âÂ
âBut how am I supposed to have a good day without yo-â
âYouâll live.â you wave him goodbye and that leaves him with no other choice but to step back and leave.Â
Maybe youâre hallucinating and maybe youâre just imagining it but before he leaves he gives you a small smile. The soft and charming glow that emanates from his eyes resonates well with the dusking sun as if they were reflecting the last golden rays of sunshine before they were to be engulfed by the warm hues of the sky and later on painted black like the night. An inexplicable feeling rises in your chest as he bids you goodbye, wishing you a nice day.
âOh he so has a massive crush on you.â you shudder upon hearing Marchâs voice. Her words ring in your ears like Christmas bells chiming during the holiday season. Loud and obnoxious. You try to drain the thoughts away but how can you when the source who started it all is right behind you? Continuously gushing about how that handsome stranger must have an enormous crush on you.
âThe group chat has to know about this!â March enthusiastically squeals and quickly fishes her phone out of her pockets. Before youâre even able to realize what is bound to happen let alone prevent her from aggressively typing on her phone, sheâs already sent the first message.Â
At that you can only bury your face into the palms of your hand, face sinking into your hands in embarrassment. As much as you love March, it sometimes feels like sheâs the oldest of the group and not Mr. Yang. Not in terms of matureness and wiseness, no more like in the sense of the kind of mom who has to share each and every one of her babyâs accomplishments online, but not as bad though, of course. Still.
âI hate you,â you complain, words muffled by the palms of your hands.
âI love you too.â she quips cheerfully, a smirk on her lips.
Safe to say March was in charge of cleaning and tidying up the cafĂŠ for the whole shift.
âAww the handsome guy from yesterday isnât here today.â March coos into your ear, a frown is displayed on her lips. She frowns, but you can see the hints of playfulness that linger in her expression. âPut on such a nice show yesterday only to chicken out. Booo, lameeee.â March rolls her eyes in amusement, giggling while doing so.Â
Although you didnât want to agree with what March had to say, sheâs somewhat right. You full-heartedly believed that heâd visit again today after the move he pulled off yesterday or perhaps you wanted him to visit him again.Â
You quickly shook your head at that thought, brushing the idea of someone paying you a visit at work off to humor you a bit. There was absolutely no way you wanted to see him again.Â
âItâs early in the morning and youâre trying to shake the dandruff out of your hair already?â âNot funny Mar-â There was no fucking way.
If this wasnât a deja vu, you donât know either. Itâs almost as if the interaction of yesterday was replaying right in front of your eyes and once again catching you off guard.
âYou know itâs not polite to blatantly stare at people right?â he spoke with a chuckle as he observed your irritated face. âFrowning like that will make you gain wrinkles.â The twitching on your right eye doesnât go unnoticed by him and he can only chuckle at that, seemingly amused by your morning misery.Â
âWhat are you doing here.â you can only mutter a single question out, dumbfounded by him appearing in front of you once again. âHm, am I not allowed to come by? I mean, everythingâs quite affordable in here and this place isnât far away from my workplace either sooo.âÂ
Well, you canât judge him for that. âThen, what do you want?â with a sigh you pluck one of the sticky notes of the block of colorful sticky notes, ready to write his order and name down. âSomeoneâs in a bad mood.â he chirps. A blank stare is the only thing you provide him as an answer and at that, he can only chuckle, itâs obvious that heâs enjoying this. âAn Iced Americano would be nice. Thanks.âÂ
âMhmm, noted.â you quickly scribbled his order down onto the quadratic paper before shouting Marchâs name over your shoulder. âCan you come here to keep our dear customer company? Iâll prepare his drink in the meantime.â you shoot Aventurine a heavy side-eye before darting your gaze back to March. The girl only giggles in response before happily skipping over to the counter.Â
âAww, do you want to extra prepare my drink?â upon hearing his remark you turn around. Meeting a pair of pink eyes which were covered behind long blond lashes, scanning your figure from a close distance.Â
Nervosity crawls at your skin as you feel yourself getting watched by him. Itâs weird â screw that, heâs weird.Â
âClose!â a giggle accompanies your words. âActually, I just really wanna get away from you. Have fun with him March.â scoffing, you turn around again.
It didnât take you long to prepare his order, filling a cup with ice cubes and pouring some shots of espresso over them was a piece of cake. âHereâ You hand him his drink and he nods in contentment before handing you a few coins, a cheeky grin appears on his face and you can see the amusement glimmering in his pink eyes. âSee you tomorrowâ he chuckles and upon that March nudges your side, which in response you can only give her an exasperated groan.Â
âYep. Head over heels in love.â she quips as soon as Aventurine is out of sight, and you have to fight the urge to slam your forehead against the counter.
Your third encounter with Aventurine occurred on a fairly rainy day. With sluggish movements and wet clothes, soaked from head to toe he slumped over to the counter and grinning as soon as he saw you.Â
âHey.â it takes you a moment to process the situation and reluctantly you reply. âHey.â Your eyes scan over his figure, his white dress shirt is completely translucent now and you canât help but let your eyes drift to the tattoo on his neck, down to his collarbone which is visibly poking out, and his slim waist, ribs only covered by a thin layer of pale skin.  Â
Aventurine seems to catch on pretty quickly and wraps himself into his blazer, seemingly uncomfortable by the way youâre looking at him.
You quickly gather your words, and voice an apology. âIâm sorry. I didnât mean to shamelessly stare, that was rude again, Iâm so sor-â âItâs fine.â Aventurine interrupts, cutting your apology curt while huffing out a tired sigh. The exasperation that resides in his voice implies that he obviously doesnât want to dwell on this topic any further. Â
A meek nod is the only response youâre able to give. âCan I just get the same thing Iâve had last time? Thanks.â he pulls out his card, ready to pay for his order.Â
âReally? An Iced Americano during this weather?â you let out a small chuckle with which youâre trying to lighten up the tense atmosphere that built up between the two of you.Â
At the sound of your light laughter, Aventurineâs eyes flicker over your face. âYou remember my order?â he asks dumbfounded.
âWell yeah, no one besides teenage girls order an Iced Americano.â you joke, the usual sarcasm back in your voice. It quenches his former uneasiness, your light-hearted words soothing him like a cool steam dripping into his parched heart.
The corners of his lips twitch and he canât help but smile. âOh, shut up.â His signature smirk graces his lips and upon catching sight of it you canât help but also let out a fond smile.Â
âWill.. a freshly black brewed coffee do?â youâre careful when asking him. Nervousness crawls at your skin in anticipation.Â
âBlack coffee?â he hums. âYeah, that should work. Thanks.â the reassuring smile he gives you makes your tense shoulder drop in relief, easing the worry that previously swam in your stomach.
You disappear into the kitchen, searching for the container that stores the coffee beans to prepare his drink, in the meantime, Aventurine quickly types into his phone before erasing the words as fast as he wrote them.
The fresh scent of coffee beans engulfs your nose and you canât help but smile. Freshly brewed coffee always reminds you of home; someone in whose arms you can bury yourself in, nudging your nose into their chest as they cage you with their arms, softly embracing you. The rattling of a coffee machine in the background rings in your ears, but the only thing you can focus on is a voice that softly caresses the shell of your ear.Â
Domesticity washes over you â itâs all too familiar.Â
Aventurineâs drink is prepared in no time and you set it on the counter which makes him look up from his phone, giving you a weak smile before wrapping his hand around the drink. Itâs still hot to touch, the warmth spreading over his hand in an instant like wildfire, itâs nice â the feeling of warmth enveloping his cold hand is nice.Â
âWell, Iâll get going now.â his announcement catches you off guard, and impulsively you reach out to tug on his sleeve to prevent him from leaving. The action leaves both you and Aventurine surprised. Curious, the blond raises an eyebrow and grins (oh how much you want to wipe that stupid grin off his face), expectantly awaiting your next move.
âSorry.â you cough apologetically before quickly letting go of his semi-dried sleeve. âBut I donât think itâs a good idea to go out again when itâs still raining. If I were you Iâd just wait until the rain stops.â Upon hearing your sincere suggestion, Aventurineâs grin falters and instead slowly molds into a fond smile that makes you inexplicably warm. Â
âAww, donât tell me you're worried that I might catch a cold?â You counter his playful remark with one of your own. âWell, yeah. Who else is supposed to give me a generous tip?â At that Aventurine can only laugh and the smile youâve been trying to hold back escapes.Â
âTouchĂŠ.â
From there on visits from Aventurine became frequent, always coming during your shift or during your break to chatter with you about mindless topics. You got used to his visits, and even when you gave off the impression of showing no interest in his ramblings, you always lent him an ear, carefully listening to what he had to say about his pets or his grumpy friend.Â
(He told you that the both of you resemble each other in some way, aloof on the outside but caring on the inside. In response, you shot him a big side eye, cause what does he mean by aloof?)
The small conversations exchanged between the two of you, ranged between topics of the latest spots that have just opened, to operas and musicals and eventually work.Â
His work to be specific.
Curiosity got the better of you and you couldnât help but ask: âAventurine.â upon hearing his name sliding off your tongue, he hums in acknowledgment. âWhat is it?â you scan his attire, the material of his black blazer is slightly crumpled and the turquoise button-up heâs wearing underneath seems to be the same one as the one when you first met him.
âWhat the hell do you even work as? I mean what kind of job requires you to wear a new suit every day?â befuddlement manifests on your face. âAh, well.â Aventurine hesitates for a moment, mouth slightly agape before closing it once again as if searching for the right words to say. âIâve told you that I work here right down the street right? Iâm a teaching assistant at St. Freya University for my friend.â he gives you a small and coy smile.Â
âOh, that prestigious university for rich kids?â at that Aventurine slightly raises his eyebrows as if surprised by your remark before quietly laughing. âMhm, I suppose you could say so.â âI shouldâve known that you taught there, I bet you also went there for university.â Itâs only a joking remark you made upon impulse but the amusement on Aventurineâs face slightly dissipates, replaced with a sheepish expression. Â
âI didnât go to university.â
âWhat?â
âWhat?â
âWhat do you mean you didnât go to university? I mean as teaching a-â âI-i started working from a very early age on and not as a teaching assistant itâs only a job for me to help my friend with.â he quickly corrects himself. âOh.â âYeah.â he hums, looking away.Â
The silence is unbearable. Itâs weird and unusual for you to not hear Aventurine chatter into your ear. âSo uhm.. what do you teach or help with?â the embarrassment quickly rises to your cheeks and you turn your head downwards to avoid any eye contact. God, whyâs initiating a conversation so hard and always fucking awkward.
âInterested in joining? Want me to sign you up?â youâre relieved upon hearing Aventurine immediately responding, lifting your head only to be met with soft pink eyes that are already earnestly admiring you.Â
Your deadpan expression tells him more than enough and he chuckles more to himself than to you. âWell, my friend, he has high expectations for his students. To some people, he might appear strict, but really, itâs for their own well-being â not his. He cares about his students a lot. Sharing his knowledge about certain topics and seeing the potential in all of them, for them to pick the information up and be able to use it. So the things he does in his classes differ, from practical to theoretical classes and Iâm just there to assist with my knowledge.â the small smile that quirks at his lips doesnât go unnoticed by you.
âOkay, okay, well enough about me, what about you? Any plans for the weekend?â Aventurine smoothly changes the topic.Â
Upon being asked what your plans are your eyes immediately light up with excitement. âIâve been meaning to visit the fair for a while now. Trying out the new rides and stuff you know?â Aventurine momentarily pauses. âAh, Iâve actually never been to a fair.â his admission comes over as surprising to you.Â
âWait what? Youâve never been to a fair? Youâre lying!âÂ
âIâm not! Or maybe I am.â he laughs. âWell, I might have gone to some but I canât recall anything like that. Perhaps I was too short, too young, or too much of a pussy to try out one of the rides.âÂ
Before you can even think of how to respond to that, you blurt out a: âGo with me then!â Youâre not even sure how you had the courage to ask that, especially to someone whom youâve only met a month or hell a few weeks ago, youâre even less sure where that question even came from.
From what you can read off Aventurineâs face, he seems to be as equally surprised as you, mouth slightly agape and lips forming a smile as he stares at you with expectant eyes.Â
âReally?â Disbelief settles onto his face.
âThinking about it now, nope.â The light in Aventurineâs eyes immediately dies down, suddenly looking like a kicked puppy who didnât get any belly rubs. It somehow makes you feel bad â somehow you sympathize with him. â..Fine.â you mumble. You canât believe yourself. âThough thereâs one condition: Youâll have to pay for everything.â
âSure, no problem.â Aventurine agrees without any hesitation and that makes you skittish. âI was joking!â He gives you a boyish grin âWell, I know but itâs not like itâs a big deal either. Also, can this be considered a date?â he props his elbow up and places his cheek onto his balled fist, smirking while doing so.
âAventurine,â you say in a stern voice. âDonât make me change my mind.â
Your irritated eyes meet his fond ones. âIâm glad.â he expresses and youâre caught off guard by his sincere tone. Thereâs no teasing or playfulness behind it, just pure gratefulness.Â
âIs it alright if I have your number? Itâs easier to reach you then.â the smirk plastered on his face is enough to tell you what the actual intention behind his words is.Â
âAdmit it. You just want my number, donât you?â you deadpan him.
âHmm, who knows?â the grin on his face only grew wider, amused by the fact that you caught on so quickly.
Swiftly you fish out your phone from your pockets, unlocking it before showing him your phone number, and before you can even ask how heâs saved your number; which contact name he typed in for you, he pulls his phone away. Smiling in triumph upon seeing your irritated face.
He gets up from the chair heâs been sitting on for the past few minutes. âWell, your break is about to end soon, so Iâll take my leave.â your eyes follow him as he checks if heâs got everything. âSee you tomorrow then:â he says in a playful tone before leaving.Â
Yeah, youâre going to meet your demise, you just know it.
END NOTE: this is just idk man we're gonna progress more in the future chaps okay đ
Š VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.
#âstellaronhvnters.#felis staple of books âÂˇË ŕź *#series: interlaced with your soul â#aventurine#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#aventurine x reader#honkai star rail fluff#aventurine fluff#hsr fluff#honkai star rail x you#hsr x you#aventurine x fem!reader#aventurine x you#hsr x female reader#aventurine hsr#honkai star rail x female reader#reader insert#x reader#series#honkai star rail series#hsr series
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"Moth to a Flame (part 7)"
Bada Lee x Reader
part 6 âľ part 7 âś part 8
series masterlist
summary: y/n l/n is the youngest team member of Jam Republic, competing in the second season of Street Woman Fighter. sheâs got the sweetest smile and the most vibrant personality, but she also may or may not be the biggest hothead on the show when it comes to defending her teammates. apparently thatâs attractive to Bada Lee.
word count: 9k
warnings: swearing, minor angst if you could even call it that, tbh this doesn't feel like my best work so i'm sorry, not proofread, nothing I write is a reflection of anyone's true character and is a work of total fiction
After Deep n Dap had been defeated by WolfâLo, There were a few days between the elimination and when the crews were supposed to gather again to learn the group choreography for the trailer. In that time Jam Republic had been booked and busy- they had a long-awaited team dinner, went to some dance classes, and even taught some of their own.
Y/n specifically took a class with Harimu at 1 Million, that happened to to be taught by Redy. the three hung out before heading to the studio, grabbing lunch and bonding over dance and being the youngest members of their crews.Â
âSo howâre things among the other Jam girls? Are you all getting accustomed to things here?â Redy asked after taking a sip from her mimosa
âTheyâre all doing great- as I explained earlier, it wasnât really hard for me to get re-situated, but I was actually really nervous for them at firstâŚâ y/n explained briefly, causing both 1 Million dancers to tilt their heads and furrow their brows
âAww, why? Because of the language barrier or just being in a different country?â the older of the two questioned again
âA bit of both- I knew the language would be hard for them since it took me years of studying to even be able to speak and understand it somewhat fluently, but I felt okay enough to be able to translate for them⌠I was mostly worried about how weâd be perceived by Korean netizens I guess, since weâre such a diverse teamâŚâ The youngest dancer played with her straw once she finished her sentence, a bit shy to admit her original concerns for her team. The other two nodded sympatheticallyÂ
âWell, have you made any other close friends?â Harimu finally chimes back in, wanting to avoid the deeper conversation that she felt was about to arise
âYou and Lusher seem pretty close- Tatter too!â Redy exclaimed, having remembered the girlsâ reactions to Y/n, as well as how easily the blonde got along with her during the rank mission. Y/n smiled softly and was about to confirm their friendship before the other 1 Million dancer snorted and began talking again
âNow that you say that I canât help but be curious about whatâs been going on between you and Badaâ she teased out of curiosity, not noticing how quickly the younger dancerâs face dropped. Y/n didnât say anything at first, taking another sip from her drink, causing the two to look up from their own over at her.
â...thereâs nothing going on between me and Bada⌠we arenât even friendsâŚâ Y/n softly tells them, leaving both of them shocked
âWoah- what??? Did something happen?? Just a couple of weeks ago you two were all over each other!â Harimu loudly explicated, earning a smack to the arm from her teammate
âYou donât have to talk about it if you donât want to Y/n, we understand⌠I especially understand that Bada isnât the greatest at communicating soâŚâ Redy comforted the girl, but y/n just chuckled a bit sadly before sighing
âItâs okay, I donât mind explaining it to you guysâŚâ She told her two friends and then did just that. Y/n explained how she and Bada became close quickly, how they hung out as just the two of them on multiple occasions, leaving out the parts where things got a bit too intimate, but it wasnât hard to fill in the blanks. Then how things went south as soon as the pressure was on for the mega crew mission. By the end of the retelling, y/nâs mouth felt dry and she couldnât help the feeling of shame that arose once again at the remembrance of how childish and immature she had acted.
âWow⌠I didnât think it was gonna be that badâŚâ Harimu mumbled, reaching over to take a sip from Redyâs mimosa, causing the other to fumble to try and stop her before immediately giving up to pay attention to their friend
âIâm so sorry you had to experience that Y/n⌠you didnât deserve that.â Redy reached across the table to hold Y/nâs hand, the younger looking up to meet her eyes before pursing her lips
âI mean⌠I kinda did⌠maybe not all of it, but at least most of it-â
âNo way- I wouldnât even say you deserved a quarter of itâ the younger 1 Million dancer cut her friend off, not liking how self-deprecating she was sounding, causing her teammate to nod and hum
âHarimuâs right- sure you said some things you shouldnât have and you may have started the argument, but if Bada had been so mature herself, you two probably wouldâve been able to get out of that fight with your relationship still intact.â the oldest of the three intelligently remarked, causing her teammate to hum and nod while Y/n just sighed
âI canât believe you two havenât talked at all since thenâŚâ
âRedy she doesnât even wanna look at me or acknowledge my existence when weâre in the same room, I wouldnât be able to get close to her even if I did wanna talk to herâŚâ Y/n pouted and leaned against her hand. They all sat in silence for a moment until Harimu sat up straight with a gasp
âHave you tried getting her attention? Like- maybe you donât have to be the one that talks first!â she exclaimed with wide eyes, leaving the other two with very confused expressions. She sighed dramatically and continued with her idea
âWhat if you try to make her jealous??â Y/n gave a deadpan expression in response as Redy rolled her eyes and mumbled an âoh my godâ under her breath
âGirl- I already told you we werenât⌠a thing⌠so how would that even work?â the youngest questioned exasperatedlyÂ
âAnd I already told you how I donât believe that for a second, BUT- â Redy snorted as she couldnât help but agree with her teammate since theyâd all seen how Bada and Y/n looked at each other
âWe do what every dancer does when theyâre trying to make someone jealous- a duetâŚâ Harimu finished explaining and the others just sat there, waiting for her to explain in further detail, which caused her to huff before doing so
âY/n, you can do a duet with one of us that has a lot of partner work, and touching and itâll be like- spicy- ya know??? And itâll make Bada jealous!â the middle dancer finally finished explaining
âItâs not a terrible ideaâŚâ Redy chimed in apprehensive, not wanting to upset her friend, but also agreeing with how well it could work. The two 1 Million dancers waited to hear what the youngest had to say, leaving Y/n sighingÂ
âItâs not a bad idea, but the only way itâd work was if Bada actually still caredâŚâ she mumbled sadly and pouted into the hand that she was leaning on
âWell, thereâs only one way to find out!â
The three finished their lunch and headed over to 1 Million Dance Studio for Redyâs class. Afterward, they stuck around and began choreographing a duet for Y/n and Redy
âOooh, you know what would make this even better??â Harimu excitedly inquired, leaving her friends a bit worried once they saw the mischievous look in her eyes
âOh god⌠what?â Y/n whined, throwing her head back
âIf you used a song sheâs already choreographed too- perhaps a song that no one knows sheâs choreographed to yetâŚâ The younger 1 Million dancer raised her eyebrows up and down, yet the other two stood confused. Harimu sighs once again before pressing play on the music she picked. âPsychoâ by Baekhyun started playing and Redy burst out laughing
âWe canât- thatâd be so mean!â the youngest of the three expressed more of her concerns out loud
âNo it wouldnât- Bada doesnât own this song. And plus, we could always say something nice about how she was the one who reminded us of this song⌠nobody else knows the reason weâre doing this besides us Y/n, so itâll only seem mean to you⌠and maybe her but she deserves it!â Redy defended, assuring Y/n that there wouldnât be any repercussions from the public
âExactly- the mega crew missions wonât air for a while, so people probably wonât even connect the two anyway!â Harimu chimed in, throwing an arm around Y/nâs shoulder, causing her to let out a sigh
âAlright⌠letâs do it-â she gave in and the other two cheered and jumped with joy, excited to choreograph the piece and cause some chaos. They worked on the piece for hours before filming it. Redy decided sheâd be the one to post it, just in case it did cause some drama then it wouldnât totally be pinned on Y/n. The three girls finished their hang-out sesh and went their separate ways.Â
When Y/n had settled into her apartment her phone lit up with a notification from Instagram, letting her know she was tagged in a post. She clicked on it to see the video of her and Redyâs choreography, where the older dancer had captioned it âbeen obsessed with this song lately- thanks @badalee_!â with a bunch of black, white, and pink emojis. Y/n reposted the video to her story and made sure to leave a comment before turning off her phone and getting in the shower.
Meanwhile, team Bebe was out having dinner when Badaâs phone pinged with a notification. Unlocking it, she opened Instagram to see that Redy had tagged her in a video- a video that had her heart clenching the second she processed what it was, or rather who it was.
Tatter had also opened Instagram while they were waiting for their food to arrive and saw the same video as the first thing on her feed. She turned to Bada immediately and showed her the video but ended up bursting out laughing when she saw the same thing already pulled up on the older girlâs phone.Â
âI really donât see whatâs funny about thisâŚâ the leader mumbled sourly, while her teammate continued to die of laughter. The others sat confused until Lusher reached over to take Tatterâs phone which she had dropped on the table. The sub-leader tried to stifle her own laughter once she saw the video and read the caption, before sliding the phone back over to the blonde.
âYou guys seriously arenât annoyed by this? They took our song!â Bada childishly whined, causing Tatter to laugh even harder while the younger members started asking what was going on. The eldest tossed her phone gently in the middle of the table for everyone to see the video, and while a couple were confused the other couldnât help but laugh as well.
âOh no Bada- they took your song. We didnât mess with Y/n⌠this is targeting youâŚâ Lusher smirked as she took a long sip from her drink, causing the leader to scoff
âSeriously? You really think this is specifically targeting me? And why would Redy do that⌠especially since me and her are good now-â
âSo you think this was Y/nâs idea?â CheChe questioned with a raised brow
âOf course! Sheâs obviously still out to get me with her immature anticsâŚâ the leader dramatically pouted and crossed her arms. To her teammates, she looked like a spoiled child who just got told they did something wrong for the first time. This caused most of the members to either scoff or burst out laughingÂ
âWell you were the one who took it as an attack in the first place- maybe they genuinely just wanted to dance to the songâŚâ Kyma chimed in, shrugging her shoulder, causing the leader to groan and throw her head back against the booth they were all in. She glanced back at her phone to see that Harimu commented on the video- something about how she was glad to be a part of the process. Then the leader clicked on the girlâs story to see she had reposted the video as well, complimenting her teammate but also making some flirty comments about Y/n. almost as if she could read Badaâs mind Lusher spoke up
âY/n does look really good though⌠Iâd get on that apology Bada or else you might lose your chanceâŚâ Lusher whispered the second half of her statement, teasing her team leader with a smirk, knowing how the dance was actually affecting her.
âgreat now I have to worry about my own teammate AND these two stealing my girlâŚâ
______________
After the short break they had gotten from filming, all the remaining crewâs returned for the filming of the season teaser video. Y/n had been gradually getting back to her old self after the mega crew mission had ended, feeling much less stress after completing it and having survived the elimination. The poor girl is still absolutely destroyed and guilt-ridden by the entire situation that occurred between her and Bada but is slowly finding it easier to ignore her presence. At this point, itâs been almost another full week since the elimination- meaning itâs been about two weeks since the two had last spoken to each other.
All the teams gathered in the main filming area after going through the hair and makeup process like usual, but it felt different to Bada. As soon as she laid her eyes on Y/n it was honestly like the Bebe leader had an epiphany.
âWoah⌠I fucked upâŚâ she mumbled to herself, noticing how Y/nâs eyes didnât sparkle anymore and how she was rather calm. The young girl had always been a bit chaotic and energetic when it came to filming, so what was wrong? This wasnât a mission, so there was no need to stress- so what could've possibly been weighing Y/n down? And that was when Bada realized, that she was weighing her downâŚ
âGoddamn- itâs about time you noticedâŚâ Tatter mumbled in return, sighing once she noticed her leaderâs sad puppy eyes and lips slightly parted in shock. For the rest of the shoot Bada is putting on her best stage face because her feelings are not correlating at all with what sheâs supposed to be portraying.Â
When they arenât filming or thereâs a break, Bada can only focus on how pretty and sad y/n looks. She doesnât look sad all the time, but the older girl noticed that whenever she was by herself her mind seemed to always drift somewhere sad. Her smile fades (even though it hadnât reached her eyes in the first place) and the younger girl suddenly looks so much older with how sunken her eyes are- had she been sleeping? Was she not eating enough? A million questions were racing through Badaâs mind and she tried to keep them pushed down for now, seeing as how she knew the second she started thinking, she knew she wouldnât stop
Bada knew she was part of the reason why the jam republic dancer was like this, but she couldnât bring herself to talk to her. So she did what she thought was the next best thing- talk to her leader. She tried to start off with a small conversation between herself and Kirsten to get a feel for the Jam leaderâs attitude toward her, which worked in her favor seeing as the other had seemed pretty chill about talking with her. The rest of Jam Republic on the other hand (minus Y/n) observed with questionable glances as Bada laughed and joked with Kirstne like usual.
âNow what the actual fuck is her problemâŚâ Ling commented out of absolute rage and distaste for whatever was going on a few meters away from them
âShe better not be trying to pull some stupid shit, cuz I donât play when it comes to Y/nâŚâ Emma mumbled glaring at the Bebe leader along with the rest of her team. Latrice huffed out a laugh and turned to look at her
âYou would sacrifice Y/n to a cult if it meant you got a good laugh out of itâŚâ the sub-leader of Jam Republic commented with a little joking smirk, causing the other members to ease up a little bit and crack some light smiles
âWell yes- I would, but that doesnât mean anyone else is allowed to!â Emma retorted, sticking up her nose dramatically. Y/n was luckily off getting her hair fixed with Redy and Yoonji, seeing as they all had these little crystals glued in their hair, and a few had fallen out during the first few runs. The Jam Republic members were just glad she wasnât present to see the interaction, knowing their youngest member would either burst into tears and spiral into a mental breakdown, or spontaneously combust into a ball of flames and go on a rampage. Either way- it would not have been an easy situation to deal with.
Yet the Jammiesâ relief is short-lived as they took their second break. Y/n came bounding over after doing a short segment with all the youngest members of each team, a bright smile on her face as her members awaited her return. They had all monitored the performance with smiles of adoration, hyping up their baby the whole time. They praised her and pinched her cheeks, teasing Y/n affectionately until Bada walked by.
âYou ready for the leadersâ shot?â she questioned with a hand on Kirstenâs shoulder. The Jam Republic leader turned her attention away from her youngest member briefly to give a polite nod and smile. Bada jerked her head in the direction of where they were heading to film, signaling for the younger leader to follow her in that direction. The two began walking off before Kirsten turned back around to wave to her members, leaving the Jam Republic members in shock
âWhat was thatâŚâ Y/n watched with sad confused puppy eyes and her jaw slightly dropped as the two leaders walked away to go film. The other members stood behind her, tense as they tried to read the young girlâs emotions. Y/n felt her heart rate pick up and her breath quickens, feeling the pressure that usually paired with tears start to build up. She swallowed thickly and pushed down the feeling before turning around to face her members with a forced smile. They all could tell right away and just gave her looks of sympathy, causing her smile to slowly drop as she sighed.Â
After the leaders did their portion of the shoot, Bada and Kirsten walked back over to the pink team laughing over whatever conversation they were having. They stopped once they reached the other members, standing directly in front of Y/n. poor girl just stared up at Bada with those heartbroken puppy dog eyes, and god Bada knew it. She felt Y/nâs stare burning holes into the side of her head, using every ounce of control in her body not to glance over and clearly see her watery eyes and quivering lip. She knew that if she were to fully look at the younger girl right now, sheâd be faced with not only a heartbroken puppy, but an angry pack of wolves behind her, and to be completely honest she hadnât achieved that level of bravery yet.Â
Bada Lee knew what she was doing. She knew that by acting normal with Kirsten, sheâd be getting Y/nâs attention. She knew itâd hurt the younger girl, but that wasnât her intention this time. The Bebe leader wanted to slowly weave her way back into Y/nâs life, and knew the easiest place to start was by making sure she was on good terms with her team leader, that way she had a mediator (even though Lusher had been playing mediator already, Bada didnât trust that she wasnât also trying to get with Y/n).
Y/n doesnât even realize the conversation has ended and sheâs just sitting there pathetically watching as Bada walks away. Ling sighs and pats her head, while the others sadly watch their baby wither away again.
âYou okay bunny?â Kirsten asked softly, sitting down next to her and bumping their shoulders together. Y/n just pursed her lips and sighed before closing her eyes and nodding. On the other side where team Bebe has gathered, they also had watched the entire situation, or rather how distraught the youngest Jam Republic members looked during the whole thing.
âYou are just so cruelâŚâ Lusher expressed lowly when Bada got within earshot, shaking her head in disbelief as she clenched her jaw. The leaderâs eyes went wide as she scoffed
âWhat?? How?? Iâm trying to make things better-â The sub-leader sighed deeply and closed her eyes, genuinely exhausted by her friendâs poor relationship choices
âBy forcing yourself into her life and then totally ignoring?? Yeah that seems to be working really wellâŚâ she ended up responding quickly, pinching the bridge of her nose as she lost her patience
âYa know if I couldnât practically see the tears streaming down her face from over here, Iâd say you did a pretty good job!â Tatter snarkily commented with a cocky sarcastic smirk. Bada was really starting to resent her choices in teammates right now⌠but she knew they were right.
They went back to shooting, finishing the individual teams and small group chat before taking a longer break for dinner. As everyone was gathering back afterward to wrap up the shoot with all the full cast shots, the main monitor lit up. The music video for âMariaâ by Hwasa began playing as the song blasted over the speakers. Hwasa enters the stage and everyone begins screaming. Ling and Y/n are gripping onto each other, absolutely shell-shocked at her appearance. The song continues to play as everyone does the choreography with her, the two Jam Republic members living their best lives while their members sit with confused yet excited smiles.
The song ends and Hwasa introduces herself along with the mission. Everyone of course goes wild for the opportunity to choreograph a routine for her, and of course just to be in her presence. The song theyâll be choreographing to is played, and once again the room is filled with screams and cheers expressing how much they all love it. Everyone was already coming up with ideas, but Jam Republic practically had their entire choreo prepared in an instant, as Y/n sat taking in the beat and engraining the feeling into her body and mind
When it ends everyone starts talking about how Lia Kim and Bada were at an advantage since they do this for a living, some mentioning Redlic as well. Y/n became another hot topic and top competitor for this mission seeing as sheâs done many recreational choreographies to kpop songs that have gone viral and sometimes even become more popular than the original. When the bonus is announced that they have to come up with a challenge portion to receive extra points that lowkey pisses y/n off. She wasnât a fan of the idea, thinking it made the part seem too forced and could easily end up making the choreography look cheap or cheesy.
After the idol finishes relaying the mission, she wishes everyone good luck as they wrap up filming and head right into preparing for the challenge. Jam Republic quickly jots down some ideas and gets a feel for the moves as Y/n tests out the choreo she had in mind when she first heard the song earlier. When the crew reconvened the next day for a full practice, their first order of business was figuring out who was going to represent Hwasa.
"I would love to be the center just as much as anyone else, but I feel like whoever can pull off the idol persona best should do itâŚ" the leader smiles and looks in y/n's direction as she pauses her explanation
"so I think we should put it up to a vote!" so all six members made their pick, which ended up being pretty useless since it resulted in a three-way tie between Kirsten, Ling, and Y/n
"I personally think Y/n would be our best bet since she has a lot of experience performing kpop stages" Ling smiled and patted her younger teammate on the knee as she expressed her desire for the youngest member to take the partÂ
"I also would really like to see Y/n as the center⌠something just tells me she'd bring us good luck" Kirsten smiles motherly at the youngest who is currently hiding her face in her hands not to let anyone see the smile and blush on her face. So they all collectively agree to have y/n be the center and she's just so happy, cheesing away. She could already imagine the baby noises the editing team was putting over the clips of her trying to contain her excited reaction. After that decision was made, they immediately got to work on choreography. Things were going well enough to the point where the members felt comfortable taking a break around lunchtime. Y/n checked her phone while she drank her water, seeing a text from Harimu
1 Mil Mu: âHey babes! Whoâs your teamâs Hwasa?â
Y/n: âWhat if I told you it was meâŚđŤŁâ
1 Mil Mu: âIâd say thank god cuz I need someone to come buy heels with me for thisđâ
Y/n: âWait- are you hwasa too???â
1 Mil Mu: âYes maâamđâ
Y/n: âAHHHH SHUT UP- weâre gonna eat so hard, Iâm so excitedâ
The news that sheâd be going up against Harimu as Hwasa gave Y/n a bit of an adrenaline rush, knowing how perfectly the 1 Million dancer fit the role. She felt as if sheâd have to work even harder now, but it made her excited instead of nervous. Y/n has actually gotten back to her normal self for the most part, genuinely excited about this challenge and seeing how everyone else would portray Hwasaâs image.
The next day before practice Y/n and Harimu have a little girlsâ morning, going out for breakfast and then doing some shopping. They made sure to try on plenty of options for heels, not too worried about the look of them right now, but rather just needed something to practice in. The two ended up getting two pairs each, a simple yet secure heel that stopped right about the ankle, and then another pair of thigh-high heeled boots to really give the Hwasa feel.
The next day was when everyone would be showcasing what they had so far for choreography, y/n wanted to look as clean and presentable as possible, choosing to wear her thigh-high boots with some booty shorts and an oversized jersey. She hadnât worn the shoes to the practice, carrying them in her back while she opted for some plain sneakers in the meantime. All teams walk in and Y/n is hyped to the max- until she realizes that Jam Republic is seated right next to BebeâŚÂ
Luckily for everyone involved, the youngest Jam Republic member is too excited about the challenge to worry about Bada right now. She was totally focused on showing her best performance and enjoying everyone elseâs. She started off excitedly watching Mannequeen then becoming easily disappointed by how sloppy it got. She was very curious to see what wolfâLo would come up with though, seeing as their style is classic hip hop- a style y/n hadnât particularly been a fan of. Yet, watching Mini got her hype. She couldnât contain her impressed reaction at the pink-haired girlâs vibe, loving the slight change wolfâlo had made in their typical genre of dance.
Bebe was the fourth group to go and Y/n was conflicted, to say the least. To be completely honest- thatâs how most of Jam Republic felt, seeing as they were excited to see what the team produced, but they were nervous for their poor youngest memberâs heart.
Bada begins a short speech, explaining the concept they were going for as the other members practiced behind her. Lusher and Tatter turned around behind Bada and looked to Y/n giving her a cheesy smile and thumbs up, before immediately going back to practicing. Y/n couldnât help but smile and giggle at how dedicated her friends were, but she also couldnât help as the smile stayed when her attention shifted back to the leader nervously smiling and fidgeting with the microphone in her hands as she wrapped up her speech.Â
The music starts and Y/nâs small smile immediately shifts into an impressed expression at one of the first moves. Bada gives a cool look as she holds up a hand sign signaling the title of street woman fighter, causing everyone to cheer lightly at the reference
âThat was coolâŚâ Y/n mumbled, playfully pouting and scrunching her nose as she tried to hide her impressed smile, causing her members to look at her with wide eyes at first before giggling and ruffling her hair. The chorus arrives and Y/nâs jaw just drops- the girl is so beyond impressed. Sheâs trying to process whether itâs actually good or if itâs just Bada, but then she watches everyone else and realizes itâs really just that good.
Then Bada struts off to the side for her own little part, doing a hip roll as she covers her eyes, sending the audience into a frenzy- especially Y/n who lets out a small scream and suddenly doesnât know where to look or what to do with her hands. Ultimately she realized what that reaction must have looked like and just hung her head in her hands as Audrey patted her on the back and tried her hardest not to burst out laughing.
Y/n sat there astonished, watching through her fingers as she continued to hide behind her hands. Bebe finishes their choreography and y/n is trying so hard to contain her excitement, she just hides her face in her hands again and screams out loud. This is gonna be such a rough mission for herâŚ
Lady Bounce went after Bebe and while they looked like they were having a lot of fun, there wasnât anything super impressive about their routine. Next up was 1 Million and Y/n stood up screaming as loud as she could, so beyond hyped to see her besties perform. Harimu eats up her Hwasa role, as expected and everyone loves the routine, including Hwasa. Finally, after everyone else had gone, it was Jam Republicâs turn.
âOur youngest treasure, miss y/n will be playing Hwasaâ Kirsten smiled as she announced their groupâs center, causing everyone to absolutely lose their shit. Many dancers had already suspected it once they saw her walk out with the thigh-high boots and everyone else in regular sneakers, but it was still exciting to have the confirmation.
Everyoneâs excitement rose as the music began, loving how Y/n completely transformed into a different person whenever she was performing. It started off smooth, but as Kirsten threw her head back for a specific move, her hat fell off. Luckily since Jam Republic is such a well-prepared group, Y/n caught it with ease and tossed it off to the side like it was all part of the routine, causing everyone to react in shock at her quick reflexes.Â
The crew continued dancing as if it were nothing, having a blast and feeding off of the other teamsâ reactions. Bebe especially was hyping Y/n up, even Bada couldnât contain her excitement. Yet, the leader did keep looking back and forth between 1 Millionâs youngest two dancers as well as her own sub-leader, trying to gauge their reaction to Y/n as well.
After a brief moment of observing the othersâ reactions, Bada once again became entranced by Jam Republicâs center. Her expressions and movement quality truly made for a captivating performance, even though it was just an interim check. The crew finished their routine and Lusher stood up immediately clapping and screaming as loud as she could, cheering for the team as a whole but also making specific calls out to Y/n
âY/N YOUâRE SO SEXYâ she cupped her hands over her mouth as she screamed out to her friend, causing the leader to slow her claps and glare at her. Bada was really starting to question Lusherâs intentions- even though the girl hadnât been acting any different than usual. It was all simply Badaâs insecurities.
_________
The next few days passed in a flash as the crews continued to improve their routines and develop their concepts. When it came time to watch each performance everyone gathered in their respective monitoring rooms. Mannequeen was the first to go, and as the screen lit up with their performance all the dancers got excited that the mission was officially starting.Â
âOkay⌠sheâs kinda eating right nowâ y/n playfully pouted as Redlic devoured the routine. Jam Republic fangirled over them and how sick their outfits were, but by the end they werenât entirely sold on the routine as a whole.
âIt was really good, but I wish they had a bit more energy- or at least were more consistent with itâ Latrice commented and the rest of them agreed. WolfâLoâs performance was next and once again, the pink team anticipated the final product. Jam Republic was impressed with how they were able to keep their classic hip-hop style while incorporating elements of K-pop
âEveryone is so good Iâm gonna screamâ was the first thing y/n said after the performance. Yet after recognizing WolfâLoâs efforts, they discussed how there was a lack of harmony between the âartistâ and the dancers
After WolfâLo it was Bebeâs turn to present their routine, and Y/n was losing her mind. This girl was freaking out- hyperventilating and pacing, but out of excitement and anticipation. Audrey, Ling laughed at her, the elder even bringing out her phone to record the girl hopping around like an excited cat, while Emma smirked teasingly and side-eyed her.
âIâm so nervous-â
âLove, this isnât even our routineâŚâ Kirsten laughed softly at her dramatic youngest member, glad that she was able to enjoy the blue teamâs performances again without crying. The second the music started, Y/n was seated, her eyes trained on the monitor before them. She screamed and cheered throughout the routine, and as the song began to approach the slower part she got more excited
 âoh Iâm so excited to see what they did for this part-â and the second Bada was down on the floor, Y/n honestly thought she was having a heart attack. It only got worse for her as the music picked back up and the Bebe leader looked over her shoulder, grinning charismatically at the camera while she grabbed her ass and shrugged like it was nothing.Â
Y/nâs jaw stayed dropped after she let out a surprised screech. Ling and Audrey also let out similar noises, while the latter reached over at the same time as Emma to cover Y/nâs eyes, knowing how sheâd be having a mental breakdown if she kept watching. The performance ended and Y/n sat there in silence with her jaw still dropped to the floor
âI think Iâm having a crisisâŚâ
The next team to perform after Bebe was Lady Bounce, which was good but not too memorable. 1 Million followed with an insane performance. The second Harimuâs silhouette was shown, Y/n gasps. The routine starts and sheâs clapping and cheering, as well as the rest of her team, all of them excited for what was about to happen. Throughout the entire performance, sheâs squealing and screaming because her bestie is eating everyone up (side note: Y/n has so many besties, and the audience loves that for her). The routine ends and every single team is blown away. Jam Republic unanimously agrees that 1 Million has shown the best performance so far, with Y/n enthusiastically agreeing
âNot bebe?â Emma teases and to be completely honest, Y/n didnât think it was funny
âNo. 1 million was by far the best Iâve seen so far- it was flawlessâ And the members felt kinda bad for teasing her because they could see her become a bit more reserved and serious after that, sinking into her seat on the couch with her arms crossed over her chest.Â
After that, itâs finally Jam Republicâs turn, as the final team to present their piece. The music begins and Y/n struts out from behind her members with the cuntiest game face out of all the contestants so far, and everyone goes feral. Her hair, her expression, her confidence, and especially her outfit had them all in shambles. All of 1 Million, but specifically Redy and Harimu were gassing her up before she even started dancing, the crew thinking of ways to convince her to join them after the show.Â
âCan we just combine teams already?â âOr at least take Y/n onto our team??â Mannequeen was asking each other questions like this, also plotting how they could continue working with Jam Republic
âThatâs my girlfriend!â Lusher cheers and Bada just about breaks her neck- she looks like sheâs going to cry at first until she realizes the younger dancer was just joking. She really almost just gave the leader a heart attack, and now Bada felt her face heat up at how embarrassing that reaction wasâŚ
They reach the part of the choreography where the other members bend over, and Y/n squats down in between them as she opens and closes her legs, and once again no one is safe. Not a single monitoring room was quiet as the youngest Jam Republic dancer dropped low into the position and flawlessly executed the choreography along with the presentation of facial expressions.
Team Bebe was not discreet at all as they all freaked out and simultaneously turned to face their leader, who was already hiding her dropped jaw behind her hands. Bada bit her fist as Y/n got down on the floor with the rest of the Jam Republic members and began to arch her back up and down in a sort of crawling motion. The move was so simple, but effective as it showcased the sexy vibe of the song.
Jam Republic finishes off strong with the final chorus into the ending pose, and it was safe to say they left everyone astonished. The camera captured the final group pose before zooming in on each member of the crew, leaving Y/n for last. When she appeared on the monitor everyone lost it at how her siren eyes and seductive expression turned into a somewhat playful puppy-like reaction as her eyes widened and she stuck her tongue out, continuing to fan herself but in a cuter manner than before.
âOHHHH ENDING FAIRY LETâS GOOOOOâ Harimu cheers with her full chest as her friend appears on the screen
âHOW IS Y/N THE YOUNGEST????â Buckey commented out of absolute shock and astonishment after seeing the girlâs performance
âSHEâS BARELY AN ADULT HOW DOES SHE KNOWN HOW TO DO THATâ Mini screamed, throwing her hands up in the air
âIâve been an adult for a while and i still donât know how to do thatâŚâ Halo mumbled after her teammateâs inquiry, causing the rest of the crew to laugh and agree
âYa- they need to put the baby to bed. Donât let her do that!â Biggy teased, pouting and whining playfully as her members agreed with faux pouts
âShe really wanted people to stop babying her I guessâŚâ Tatter calmly stated as she leaned back into the couch with her arms crossed, smirking as she kept her eyes trained on the monitor. The team snickered as Bada slowly turned her head toward the blonde with a deadpan expression, unimpressed with her jab.
Once every team had gone and finished presenting their routines, it was time to get changed and wrap up for the day. Each crew left their monitoring room to head back to their designated hideout spaces and decompress after the events of the day, and await the results of the winning team. Jam Republic was full of giggles and confidence after their successful performance as they bounced down the hallway.Â
"ya, y/nâŚ" the small girl whipped around with wide, somewhat fearful eyes and it lowkey made Bada's heart hurt to see her react that way
"yes?" she tried to speak steadily and confidently, but bit her lip and shrunk into herself a little, trying not to outwardly cringe, when she realized how meek and anxious she sounded. The tall girl across from her sighed and softened her gaze, seeing how unnerved y/n was.
"you did a good job." Bada confidently said as her team was about to walk past Jam Republic, shocking everyone on both teams (including herself). Y/n's lips parted and everyone watched as it quivered slightly and her eyes began to get red.
"ah no, no don't start cryingâŚ" the older leader tried to remain serious and civil, keeping the distance between them. The younger dancer bit her lip again and took shaky breaths as she frantically nodded her head while wiping away tears. Bada sighed again before taking a few quick strides over to her, not caring about the audience of both their teams. She placed a gentle hand on top of the shorter girl's head, gently ruffling her hair.
"ayyye don't cry" This time Bada tried to be more gentle and took the approach of some friendly teasing in hopes of at least getting a smile out of her, but it only made things worse as y/n looked up at her with a huge frown and teary eyes. She really was trying her hardest to stop crying, but nothing was working. Poor Y/n was just so happy to have Bada back at this moment. The look just about finished off what was left of Bada's heart. Any part of her that hadn't been touched by guilt yet was now overthrown by it. She felt her own eyes begin to sting a little as the pressure built up but didn't allow for any tears to form.
"Y/n-ah don't cryyyyy" Bada whispered softly as she gently reached to hold her face in both hands, wiping away the endless tears. This caused the younger girl to fully burst into tears and attempt to hang her head as much as she could in Bada's hold, but as soon as the tears increased the older girl was pulling y/n into her chest, hugging her as if she had no plans on ever letting go. Bada closed her eyes trying to keep her own tears at bay.Â
The other members of both teams just stood clumped together off to the side, absolutely baffled by what was happening. A majority, if not all of them had dropped jaws or dumbfounded expressions. Lusher had to cover her mouth after letting out a squeak of excitement when Bada put her hand on Y/nâs head. It was a small moment, but a huge step for both girls.
âYou did amazing, so donât cry anymore, okay?â Bada whispered after pulling back from the hug, leaning down slightly so their faces were the same level. Y/n nodded and sniffled, wiping away her tears and finally pulling herself together.
âThank you- you tooâŚâ she gave a watery smile as she hiccuped and the two giggled slightly over the situation. The older dancer smiled sadly and nodded before heading back over to her team. As they began to walk off Tatter turned aroundÂ
âCongratulations Jam Republic- you all were fantastic- WE LOVE YOU!!!â the blonde screamed enthusiastically making a giant heart over her head with her arms, causing the rest of her team to follow and also share their love and praise for the team. The pink crew just smiled brightly and laughed, before shyly mirroring their reaction. After both crews went their separate ways and made it back to their hideouts, Y/n stood in the middle of the room as her teammates settled in.
âWhatâs up, Bunny?â Audrey asked, with a worried expression as she saw Y/nâs confused but teary eyes. The girl looked up and burst into tears again on the spot. All the members were shocked at the sudden outburst and ran to comfort her.Â
âShe said I did goodâŚâ the girl bawled as her members hugged her. They all tensed for a short moment before bursting into a fit of giggles at how cute and sentimental their baby was. She eventually calms down, reducing her sobs to sniffles and soft hiccups. About 45 minutes to an hour passes before the staff is letting everyone know that a winner has been decided. 1 Million receive the 100 points benefit that came with being the group chosen by Hwasa, meaning their choreography will be performed and used for the music video.
The following day, everyone begins preparing for the music video. All the other crews learn 1 Millionâs choreography and practice it in preparation for the shoot which would be happening the day after. When everyone gathered to get into hair and makeup for the video it felt fun. Not stressful, or competitive, just fun- and all the dancers were truly grateful for that.Â
Each crew had been given a portion of the song where they were able to perform a bit of their own choreography, highlighting their efforts as a whole production. They were able to tie up the shoot within just one day of filming, giving all the crews an extra day of rest before having to officially start working on their final mission before the finale.
y/n had been walking toward the setâs dancer lounge to grab a few snacks when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. The girl quickly turned around and became face to face, or rather face to chest, with the dancer she still wasnât on the best terms with.
âHeyâŚâ Bada whispered once she made eye contact with the smaller girl, removing her hand quickly as she realized it was still resting on her shoulder. Y/n stood speechless, trying to force herself to at least utter a âheyâ back, but she couldnât find the strength.Â
âCan we talk?â the leader continued softly, voice wavering ever-so-slightly, but not enough for anyone to notice. To Y/n, Bada seemed confident and relaxed as her soft eyes peered down at her. It shouldâve been comforting not seeing any signs of her being tense or upset, but the question alone made the younger dancer tear up, already feeling heavily emotional.
âUh⌠yeah⌠yeah, of courseâ Y/n spoke meekly, not being able to hold eye contact for more than a couple of seconds at a time as she stood in front of the other girl. Bada glanced over at Kirsten and nodded, giving her a nervous tight-lipped smile as the younger leader gave her a gentle look of encouragement paired with two thumbs up.
The two walked in silence for a bit as they separated themselves from the majority of people, finding a less occupied area to chat. Once they arrived at a moderately secluded area and Bada stopped walking she turned to the younger dancer who stood stiffly with her arms crossed and shoulders tensed.
âSo⌠how have you been?â Y/n starts shyly, trying not to seem too uncomfortable but internally cringing once she realizes how formal she sounds. Bada tried to suppress her frown, hating how awkward things had become, but then again, it all made sense.
âWell⌠uhm⌠Iâm not doing terrible hahaâŚâ she tried to joke around while still being honest, but quickly realized none of her small-talk humor was going to get a laugh out of the other girl
âI actually havenât been doing great since we last⌠talkedâŚâ she continued, becoming a bit more serious with her tone
âIâve been thinking a lot- actually all Iâve done is think⌠about the things I said, about why I acted the way I did, about how to approach you, about how I shouldâve done this sooner, and especially about youâŚâ Bada rambled off all of whatâs been occupying her brain recentlyÂ
âAll I do is think about youâŚâ she breathed out, causing the other girlâs own breath to catch in her throat as her eyes widened slightly. Y/n bit her lip looking at the floor and blinked rapidly trying to avoid the stinging feeling in her eyes that was already beginning.Â
âIâm so sorry Y/n.â Bada whispered, starting to feel her throat tighten. The younger clenched her teeth and closed her eyes tightly as a singular tear slid down her cheek, before sniffling and looking back up to meet the tall girlâs gaze.
âThatâs all I needed to hearâŚâ she whispered with a sad smile, causing Bada to smile softly for a moment before furrowing her brows slightly
âBut you deserve so much more than a simple apology-â the leader spoke seriously, still being conscience of her tone so as to not get too worked up
âItâs okay- I really donât think I do⌠I said some terrible things too-â the younger sighed as she spoke
âWell of course, but that doesnât mean what I said was okay⌠that doesnât mean I shouldnât be trying my hardest to make up for the thing I said and how poorly I treated youâŚâÂ
âWeâre both equally at fault here-â Y/n was nearly cut off by the persistent dancer
âWell, I wouldnât say equally⌠I definitely donât think you were as cruel as I was⌠not like itâs a contest or anything but I think the impact this argument had on both of us was mostly my fault⌠especially since the things I said were aimed to hurt youâŚâ Bada tried not to seem pushy, not wanting to cause another argument, but she was set on getting her point across
âI mean⌠I kinda deserved it-â Y/n chuckled humorlessly as she looked at her shoes, kicking the ground. Badaâs jaw dropped in absolute shock at how the girl honestly thought she was meant to hear such awful things directed toward her
âNo, you didnât, stop saying that! No one deserves to be talked to like that and I feel absolutely disgusted with myself for saying the things I said⌠I am SO so sorry y/nâ The leader spoke up, voice raising slightly with urgency, desperate to get her sincerity across. The younger dancer struggled to find words momentarily, wanting to say âitâs okayâ, but realizing that it in fact wasnât okay at all
â...I accept your apology, Bada, I promiseâŚâ Y/n clearly stated after a few moments of thought
âThank youâŚâ Bada sighed, shoulders relaxing slightlyÂ
âIâm sorry too⌠I was acting immature and childish, and it was really all just because I was hurt by your decision- a decision that I understood had to be madeâŚâ and it was true- the girl really did understand why her team was chosen, but that didnât mean it hurt any less
âY/nâs you donât need to apologize-â At Badaâs words it was now Y/nâs turn to be shocked. Even if the girl wasnât as harsh, she surely was responsible for her own thoughts and actions.
âOf course I do⌠I need to apologize just as much as you do- for christâs sake I was the one who caused the whole argumentâŚâ She started seriously with furrowed brows, but then her face softened as she continued
âIâm sorry for not trusting you⌠and for acting like a child-â
âYou werenât acting like a child, you were acting like someone who was under a lot of stress and thatâs completely understandable-â Bada cut her off, already feeling the guilt arise again at the memory of how sheâd called the younger girl childish and immature
âBut I could have handled it so much better-â
âAs could I, but we both saw how that actually turned outâŚâ Bada finished with a light teasing smirk, causing Y/n to crack a bit of a smile herself before sighing again and biting her lip as tears filled her eyes
âI also shouldnât have pushed you to talk about something you werenât ready to talk about⌠so for that, Iâm also sorryâ the Bebe Leader added to her apology, gazing at Y/n with a soft heartfelt look. The younger was staring at the floor again as she sniffled before speakingÂ
âIâm so sorry Bada-â Y/n whimpered as another onslaught of tears began falling. The older girl gently pulled her into a hug, wrapping her arms around the shorter girlâs shoulders and leaning her chin on top of Y/nâs head.
âShhh⌠Weâve both apologized and talked it out- letâs grow from it and move past it now, okay?â the tall girl whispered against the youngerâs head, running her hand over the otherâs hair, smoothing it down softly
âWe should probably work on not talking over each other tooâŚâ Y/n mumbled against her chest, feeling the light rumble of laughter as Bada chuckled. Noether had realized the leader had started crying as well until she sniffled and reached up to wipe away her tears without even realizing it.
âThere are a lot of things we can work on together- good and badâŚâ Bada leaned back slightly to look down at the girl, who lifted her head to meet the taller girlâs gaze.
âYeah⌠togetherâŚâ Y/n whispered breathlessly with a relieved smile. The tall dancer couldnât stop the grin from spreading on her face as she was finally able to stare into Y/nâs sparkling eyes again.
taglist (closed): @tinybada @angel-hyuckie @violetinferno @jesuschrist2006 @1luvkarina @uwulyn @justandloyal2961 @deadgirlwalking3 @squidvoldyvoid @vivzyo @ouhaika @jksjx @ocyeanicc @marianamartinsthings @jxrdxnh @luvjanexx @lorenztired @khjssss @heavenlycloud @loisje123 @starchasermyloves @zhivaxo @grinnwolph @notyourd0lly @stinkbvgs @nermandiiiii-blog @arujee @idontknownemore @thatgayinsomniac @fruitr0llup @cgriffin9797-blog @woooooya @kaaylvst @ssc7514 @astoreea @linda-botello @kpopgirl-97 @erikook @misszoldyc @sammisregrets @jysai @moonsvrse @froufrousnowman @amararosesblog @tikitsune @aestrelle19 @laaaasanielzz @randomhoex @tswisal1 @unpretty-reader @charlesswife @stella222
#moth to a flame#street woman fighter 2#bada lee#bada lee x reader#street woman fighter x reader#bada x reader#swf2 x reader#swf2
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I would reallyy love if you could write about how when the Sully family reaches the new tribe all of the Metkayina girls are trying really hard to get Neteyam to notice them (Cause you know he's the oldest, a good warrior and is gonna be a leader soon) but they dont know he already has a mate and the reader gets jealous. So neteyam has to comfort her and when she realizes she is being silly and has nothing to worry about...this one metkayina girl really pushes it....(im talking getting touchy with neteyam, always finding ways to get him alone and is rude to the reader) and she loses her absolute shit and you can decide what she does but i want it to be very possessive like behaviorđ sorry this is longđ
Metkayina Girls Start Falling At Neteyam's Feet and You, His Mate, Get Jealous (SFW)
Reader is Fem! Omaticaya
CW: a story of jealousy with aa twist, these girls are really shameless, Kiri and Lo'ak duo, sorry im posting so late, my stomach actually really hurts rn, but not writing for so long has been driving me crazy, anyway, enjoy <3 ( i barfed in my mouth a little bit writing some of this cringey shit )
"Humans?! That must've been so scary for you! What happened next?" Leyelu asked as she stretched, laying herself stomach-down in the sand in front of Neteyam, batting her eyelashes.
"Yeah, did you fight them? I'm sure you did, since you are such a strong warrior," Nayat smiled, scooching her seat closer to the boy.
"Um...well, I didn't-." "Impossible. I can imagine you swooping in and saving your family. All heroic-like," Srraza smirked, openly raking her eyes up and down Neteyam's body, not caring how uncomfortable he looked.
Their shameless display made you want to vomit, and possibly scream, at the same time.
There were a total of three girls. Leyelu, Nayat, and Srraza. And all were practically throwing themselves at Neteyam.
It had been about a week and some change since you and the Sullys arrived at Awa'atlu. And every day, without fail, these girls managed to tail Neteyam, following him and showering him in praise whenever they could.
You hadn't had not two seconds alone with him before one of them, or all three, came barging in with some fake excuse of a heavy basket they needed help lifting or a boat they needed help loading.
You knew Neteyam never entertained their advances, and were thankful for it.
But being his mate, you couldn't help but feel frustrated. (and maybe a little jealous)
"If you scowl any harder, it's going to become permanent," Kiri playfully warned, your face amusing her.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," you curtly answered, tearing your eyes away from the scene angrily.
"Yes. I'm fine is stretched tightly across your face right now," Lo'ak smirked from his spot in the sand, hands behind his head as he subathed.
"(y/n), I hope you know that Neteyam would never-." "I know," you sighed, already guessing what Kiri was going to say.
"I trust Neteyam completely. It's just-."
You couldn't finish the sentence. It was embarrassing.
"Just what?" Lo'ak asked, ears perking in intrigue.
"Give her a minute," Kiri shushed, smacking him in the arm, earning an annoyed ow! from the boy.
"It's not that I'm scared Neteyam will leave me. It is just...I don't see why he won't," you started, staring down at your feet in shame.
Kiri and Lo'ak both whipped their heads towards you in disbelief, their expressions contorting into ones of confusion.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Lo'ak asked, confused.
"Lo'ak!" Kiri scolded.
She was thinking the same thing, but he could've been a little easier on the delivery.
"Look at them," you sighed, holding out your hand to the girls, who were still fake listening to Neteyam's story.
"Leyelu's father is one of the best hunters in the clan, only second to Tonowari. Nayat's mother is incredibly skilled on the loom, who is now teaching Nayat everthing she knows. For Eywa's sake, Srraza is studying under Ronal to be a healer."
The brother ans sister's expressions slowly softened, the meaning behind your words now coming to light.
"You are the best dancer the Omaticaya have ever seen. And the best the Metkayina have seen, as well," Kiri tried to comfort, a warm smile on her face.
"Oh, yes, because dancing can help me hunt for food. And dancing can help me make clothes. Let's not forget, it can help me heal as well," you sarcastically agreed, snippy.
Kiri sighed.
She didn't take it to heart, not one bit. She understood your frustration.
"They all have spent their years learning skills that can be of use, be important. All I have to show for mine are a couple of dance moves."
Lo'ak looked like he wanted to say something, but decided against it until you were finished.
"And the best part of it is they are all gorgeous, the most sought after girls in this village. And I'm just...me."
Kiri felt her heart ache.
She had no idea you had been feeling this way this whole time.
She thought it was just a small case of jealousy. But it seemed to be much deeper than that.
"So, no. I'm not frustrated or scared of Neteyam leaving me. I am frustrated and scared because he has every reason to."
You turned back to the scene, only to see Leyelu resting her hands on Neteyam's chest, leaning into his face.
"Hey, Neteyam. Have you ever given thought to who could possibly be your mate?" she asked with a smirk, peering up at him through her beautiful eyelashes.
It was as if you didn't even exist.
"(y/n), wai-." But you ignored Kiri, abruptly standing up, not wanting to watch the scene any longer.
"Dammit, (y/n)! Sit down and look," Lo'ak groaned, roughly pulling you back down and turning your face to watch Neteyam.
"Do not touch me," Neteyam sternly ordered, grabbing the girl's wrists and pulling her hands of him, harshly.
"I know that you know I already have a mate. And you trying to make advances on me while knowing that is incredibly disrespectful."
The girls were giving him puppy dog eyes, as if that would guilt him into stopping.
It made you gag.
"I do not appreciate how you've been disregarding (y/n) this entire week. Especially when she has done nothing to you."
"That's exactly the point. She does nothing. She is just there with you. You two do not even act like mates," Srraza scoffed, rolling her eyes.
"That is true. I never see you two hug, or kiss, or embrace each other romantically at all," Nayat agreed.
"Because any time I get alone with her is interrupted by you three!" Neteyam exclaimed, annoyed.
His sudden burst shocked you.
You didn't know he felt this.
"I only get time to myself every once in a while, and I like to spend it with (y/n). But ever since I've gotten here, you three have used every mean under the sun to keep that from happening. For Eywa's sake, that was what I was on my way to do now before you all came along!"
"But why? She doesn't hunt, she doesn't loom, she doesn't heal, she can't even carry a tune. She's boring, plain. Why would you willingly want to spend time with her?" Leyelu asked, cocking an eyebrow s she crossed her arms.
Ouch.
"That's why you look like a dead fish, bitch!" Lo'ak loudly called, making you and Kiri die in snickers.
The girl whipped around, glaring daggers at the boy.
"Lo'ak!" Kiri tried to scold, but couldn't through her laughter.
"It's true! If her eyes were any farther apart, she'd be able to see the back of her head," he huffed.
You were his friend. And he didn't like people talking shit about you.
Meanwhile, Neteyam was using every ounce of his strength to not bare his teeth at the girl.
"I don't care about what she can't do. I love what she can. She's a phenomenal dancer, and has forgotten more moves than you three will ever learn. She's funny, she's kind, she's caring, the farthest thing from boring. And her beauty makes the three of you look like a patch wet sand. I am lucky to call her my mate, and if you all would excuse me, I'm going to spend the rest of the day with her," Neteyam angrily corrected, pushing past them and walking towards you.
And as he drew closer, you smiled, wider than you had in a while.
You felt foolish for thinking he could do better than you.
Especially after he just confessed that he believed he could do no better than you.
It made you feel happy, and loved, and secure in your relationship.
There was no one that could take your place because you were the place, and the only one who could ever be it.
And now knowing that fact, sent you over the moon.
âŚ
taglist !!
@vane28282, @remutoast, @p1nkprint, @ladyorchidia, @anthonys-viscountess, @karmz-7319, @cantbuysophialove, @scarabruhs, @an0th3rsss, @deloe18, @mariiyoushi, @av1xar, @alexxcorona113, @may-and-lay, @overlyfancybreakfastfoods, @harshita-hiranyamayi, @qui-02, @myheartfollower, @morks-watermelon, @bangtanxberm, @adavenus, @sweetdayme4427, @lilac13, @torchbearerkyle, @dazedshoon, @rovckwell, @wonieee, @0710khj, @multifandomreader73, @kadu-5607, @la-cey, @roseazura, @sophiejiro, @angelbeari, @bludyl
#avatar the way of water#avatar 2#avatar#na'vi x y/n#na'vi x reader#neteyam fluff#neteyam x y/n#neteyam x reader#neteyam#atwow x reader#atwow#omitacaya
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Countless nights
Malleus x gn!reader
i felt like writing something super cute and lovey dovey and basic after listening to can't help falling in love by elvis presley so here we are lolđđŠˇ
this is nothing revolutionary that hasn't been done before just so much fluff you'll throw up a furball (made of fictional fluff) by the end
There are many a night which he spends thinking of you.
Lilia had told him about it, a long long time ago. How your chest would tighten, how your face would become warm, how your heart would flutter when gazing at the person you're in love with. But he never imagined that it could feel this amazing, this freeing, this beautiful.
There are many moments he thinks of on these nights...
You run up behind him, yelling the silly little nickname he's grown to love hearing fall from your lips.
He turns around, grinning at the sound of your voice. Truly, you are a sight for sore eyes. Your little furry companion is with you, too, dozing off in your arms.
"It's so nice to see you in the hallways for once." you realise that you mostly see him in front of your dorm when he randomly shows up. Because of that, you kinda forgot that he's also a student at the school and takes classes as well.
"Likewise. It's always a pleasure to see you." He didn't say anything presumptious, so why are you making that excited face all of a sudden? Now he feels giddy.
A silence falls between you.
"Ahaha... Um... I actually have no idea what to talk about... I kinda just ran to you after seeing you..." you admitted awkwardly.
That is... very comforting to hear. All you need is the sight of him to want to be by his side. The warm feeling spreading across his body is very welcome.
He wants to hear you say that sentence over and over, but greed is not a good quality to bear, so he'll settle with hearing it only once.
"Then I suppose you wouldn't mind listening to me talk? Do you happen to be partial to gargoyles?" He takes the opportunity to talk about the passion no one seems to share with him. He's fully expecting you to say no and change the topic, and he wouldn't blame you at all in some regard. He's well aware most humans don't take interest in something as specific as gargoyles.
"I never really thought much about them before. But sure, tell me about it." you actually look really interested, waiting for him to start.
He smiles.
Oh, he just can't help falling in love with you.
.
"Did you hear about that new ice cream place that opened in town recently?"
When you asked him if he could spare 2 hours of his day just for the two of you yesterday, he was certainly not expecting you to open with this.
"Lilia told me you like ice cream, and I was pretty curious about the taste myself." you wonder to yourself if there's any funny flavours you wouldn't find in the human world. If so, you're definitely trying them out.
"So, uhhh... wanna go try it with me?"
You don't even realise how happy you've just made him. He has to hold back the wide smile that threatens to spread across his face.
"Hahaha, you're so strange... Though I certainly wouldn't mind." You seriously just want to... hang out with him? What a pleasant surprise, indeed. It makes his heart beat with excitement.
"Let's go!" you start running down the hill to get to town, excited to share ice cream with him.
.
"Aw man, it's almost impossible to choose." you're contemplating between three different flavours at the moment.
"Shall I choose for you, then?" Malleus suggests. He already picked the flavour he wants and is waiting for you to make your choice. Not that he's annoyed by that. The longer you take, the more minutes he can spend by your side. How greedy of him.
"Go ahead." you sigh defeatedly. You're truly thankful he can put an end to the awkward situation of you just staring between 3 different flavours for like, 2 whole minutes now. You're creating a line behind you, no doubt.
"You should get the strawberry flavour." Malleus recalled a story of Lilia's in which he told him that strawberries are a symbol of love in a country he visited. He feels a bit cheeky, sneaking a subtle hint in like this.
"Uh, sure! I'll have one scoop of strawberry!" you raised an eyebrow slightly at his satisfied smile. Why is he smiling now, of all times?
If he's happy, you're happy, you suppose.
The two of you decided to walk around town while eating the ice cream. It was a nice change of scenery.
You were telling Malleus about a funny potionology mishap you had with Grim and Ace today when someone bumped into you, making you lose grip of the ice cream.
It fell splat on the ground, making it no longer edible.
"Oh come on..." you looked down at the wasted ice cream sadly. It was really good, too.
"I can return it to its original form, do not worry." Malleus suggested, already about to do it when you gently grabbed his wrist. His eyes widened slightly and a strange tightness enveloped his chest.
"No need. Just hanging out with you is enough. Enjoy the ice cream for the both of us." you're really fine with just watching him. He seems very happy when eating ice cream, which you can't get enough of.
"...If you wish." he felt his whole being warming up at your sweet words.
Oh, he just can't help falling in love with you.
.
"Child of man. What is the meaning of this?" his expression darkens when he sees your fingers wrapped in bandages.
"Of wha- Oh, you mean my bandages? It's, uhhh, a bit embarrasing. And also a suprise." you hid your hands behind your back, not wanting him to worry about them too much.
"Tell me." he looked quite scary in this moment, almost like he was ready to kill. Is he really that worried over it? It kinda makes you feel giddy.
"It'll ruin the surprise, I'm just saying." you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. His terrifying gaze didn't falter however, so you gave up.
"Roses are really important symbols in Briar valley, so I've heard. So I kinda wanted to give you a hand-picked rose boquet for your birthday tommorow, but I was dumb and didn't use gloves to de-thorn the roses. So that's why my hands look like this." you still felt a little bad ruining the surprise, but giving Malleus peace of mind is much more important.
"Oh... So it was that, I see." Malleus still witheld a somewhat cold, scary expression. He can't stand to see you hurt, in any way. And knowing it was all for him makes him feel even worse.
Still... you wanted to make him happy so much that you willingly hurt yourself to see it happen. Warmth rushes to his face at the thought of you handing the boquet to him. That's quite a common way of confessing love among humans, is it not?
He can't wait for his birthday all of a sudden.
On these nights, he just can't help falling in love with you.
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HER | part two.
â§â 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 canât see this going well. at all.
pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 22.7k genres/tropes:Â 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 (iâm 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.
â§â a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!
the fic is told from wonwooâs pov, not the readerâs!Â
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!Â
bolded and italicized text implies the characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesnât happen often!
the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts.
updates: in terms of a posting schedule, i'm pre sure i'm just gonna post every saturday night ~12am EST (so technically sunday lol). taglist is included in the comment section since tumblr now has limit as to how many peeps are mentioned per post :p
thanks againnnn! đ
⢠part one | part three | part four | part five | part six â˘Â soundtrack for those curious! â˘Â read at ur own pace! :)
âMAY 12TH.
Wonwoo was sat on his couch with your laptop glowing in front of him, one hand holding up his chin while the other scrolled slowly through your writing. Finally, youâd let him actually glean your work, and he was quite impressed with your natural skill. He supposed the biggest issue was the choppinessâyour sentence structures were much like your racing tangents, and in some areas the writing lacked flow and a smooth continuality. But that sort of ability would just develop on its own as long as you were practicing.
For the most part, Wonwoo was leaving behind small notes and highlighting areas that you could revisit at a later time.
âOkay, Iâm going to do a handstand.â
However, as Wonwoo had been combing through your work for the past half-hour, that left you with an apparent boredness which somehow translated into an acrobatics session in his living room.
âIâd really prefer you didnât,â he answered through the fingers covering his mouth, his eyes trained with focus on the document.
âNo, no. I used to be so good at them. Watch.â
Wonwoo was in the midst of typing a note when a small, circular embroidered pillow had suddenly struck the laptop, nearly forcing it shut. It was then that Wonwoo looked up with a long sigh, acknowledging the devious, shining smile that sprung to your face.
âNow that I have your attentionââ
Wonwoo titled his head, folded his arms, and propped one foot onto the coffee table, somewhat like an exhausted parent who was being heckled by their child to watch the âspecial trickâ theyâd just learned. He was internally praying you actually were good at handstands, because that fragile pottery vase and the antique gold clock sitting on the fire mantel had never looked so breakable until now. A cool breeze slivered in through the open window as your arms began raising above your head, and he heard you inhale steadily.
âGo!â You then shouted, either in motivation or impatience aimed at yourself, loud enough to make Wonwoo flinch.
The next moment, you were basically flipped upside down, your socked feet sticking pointedly in the air while your hands stumbled about on the brown rug for a few seconds, attempting to find their place rooted in the fuzz. Wonwoo pursed his lip, impressed.
âSee! Told you!â
âI mean, I never said you couldnât.â
âAre you amazed?â
He watched with a slight bit of nervousness as you walked a few paces forward with your hands, though he kept his calm composure from the couch and dealt you about three dull claps.
âCirque de Soleil is asking for you, actually.â
To Wonwooâs utter relief, you collapsed back onto your feet, probably because the blood was gushing to your head and heâd rather not have you faint squarely on the face in his living room. You then sat on your knees for a moment, rubbing slowly at your scalp.
âIâm almost done,â Wonwoo reaffirmed, moving aside the stitched pillow youâd chucked at him earlier and reopening the laptop.
âDonât let me rush you.â
He chuckled instantly. âYou mean to tell me youâre not bored out of your mind? Why else would you be doing cartwheels.â
Finally, you got up from the rug.
âUm, it was a handstand,â you were hasty to correct him, now sinking into the seat beside Wonwoo on the couch with the circle pillow pulled onto your lap. âI could do a cartwheel, though.â
âYeah, not in this house youâre not.â
âNot in this house youâre not.â
He merely smirked at your attempt to mimic him by employing a cartoonishly deep tone that you found very amusing, made evident by your prideful giggles close to his ear. Just as Wonwoo scrolled to the end of the document to type his last note, you were piqued with curiosity and leaned over his lap, grabbing at the screen to examine how far heâd come during your hour together.
âSo, where are you at anyway?â
Wonwoo pressed himself back into the couch, immediately removing his hands from the keyboard. It felt like at the most random, unpredictable times you would swoop in so close to him, and he never quite knew how to react. Most times he would freeze, become stiff and hardly breathing, run his eyes in all different directions around the room because everything seemed easier when he pretended you didnât exist.
He adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat.
âIâm basically done.â
âYou are? Okay. Hm⌠it seems like you made a lotta notes.â
Wonwoo squirmed in his seat as though it were scratching him. You eventually pulled away, but your knee was now resting on the side of his thigh and you were sitting much closer than beforeâclose enough that your shoulder was digging into his and he could sense your full, bright eyes burning a stare at his pink cheek.
âTheyâre mostly easy fixesâŚâ he mumbled, refusing to look at you, instead scrolling impetuously through the document with jerks of his pointer and middle finger. Â
âWell, what do you think of it?â
He paused, still staring at the laptop.
âOf what?â
âWonwoo, my writing, obviously,â you said with a warm laugh and a soft breath that rushed over his neck in such a pleasurable, lightheaded way. âAnd look at me,â he heard you ask in a lower, more sincere voice, your fingers then ghosting along his tense jaw in a fleeting, sensitive touch as you guided his head gently in your direction, âI just want to know youâre telling the truth.â
He was accustomed to your eyes being filled with sparks and the readiness to pit the most sharp-tongued comment in history, and so Wonwoo was able to relax ever so slightly upon realizing how your gaze had become increasingly mellow, welcoming even.
âWell, youâre obviously good at it,â he managed to answer the question without his voice trembling, âjust some pacing issues, mostly. Youâve got a bit of an issue with run-on sentences and closing up a scene. But you plan a lot, which is nice. I mean, you can only get better.â
An earnest smile picked its way across your face, framing your polished teeth and pushing up the apples of your cheeks. Wonwoo had to look awayâsometimes it was too muchâyou were too much, and he refused to let himself drown beneath your intensity that he found purely terrifying. Your knee proceeded to pull from his thigh and you were now dragging your body off the couch, which meant that Wonwoo could safely exhale the breath he was holding. He wondered if you just wanted to hear the compliment, or if you were legitimately pleased with his praise.
You walked up to his fireplace mantel, examining the items left along the white, sparkling trim heâd spritzed clean of all dust.
âDid you make this?â Came your inquiry, a curious finger pointing toward the round-bottomed, thin-necked red vase.
Wonwoo shook his head.
âNo, it was a welcome gift from the landlord.â
âShe made it?â
âYeah,â he hummed. âDidnât I tell you? She owns the pottery business downstairs. Saskia. She immigrated here like, eighteen years ago, now. From Poland. I thought you mightâve run into her.â
Shaking your head, you turned back to the vase.
âI didnât see her at all.â
âShe was probably in her office.â
âHow did she make all these little emblem thingies? Around the base? Like, this oneâs got an elephant. This one is a fruit tree.â
Wonwoo squinted at the vase from his place on the couch. He hadnât really examined it much, apart from when his landlord had thrust it into his hands while she welcomed him to the building. It never held any flowers, eitherânot even the brilliant ruby coloured poinsettias his ex-girlfriend's mother was supposed to send.
The relationship has disintegrated before it could ever happen.
âFuck, donât know. She has a bunch of little tools down there for more detailed work. Maybe a stamp. Youâd have to ask her.â
âItâs really pretty.â
His brows furrowed. âYeah? You like ceramics or something?â
You turned back to him, shrugging.
âI donât know. I was just saying, itâs pretty.â
âIt is. Itâs very pretty.â
With a sigh, you climbed back onto the couch.
âDo you think youâre done editing?â
He picked up the laptop and set it down on the coffee table.
âI think so. For the day.â
âPerfect.â You smiled. âIâll make time to read your notes tomorrow morning, if I can. Seems like thereâs about eight-hundred.â
Wonwoo chuckled, ânot eight-hundred. Try twenty.â
âTwenty?!â Your eyes bulged in shock as you gripped onto the embroidered pillow hugged back into your lap. âThatâs so many!â
âWhatâtwenty is somehow more than eight-hundred? What fucking planet are you living on where numeracy works like that?â
âWonwoo, I have so much to do tomorrow!â You winced, tossing your head against the couch and slipping down the cushions.
âOkay, like what?â
â⌠Gosh⌠no, no. Fuck it. It doesnât matter.â
âNo, tell me. What have you got to do tomorrow?â
âI donât want to tell.â
âWhy not?â He murmured.
âIf I talk about, then Iâll want to do it even less.â There was an empty sigh he heard from your chest as your arms curled tight around the pillow. âBesides, itâs squished all into my colour-coded block on the schedule. The pink one. I justâI donât want to think about it.â
âFair. I get that.â
âItâs complicated family stuff.â
Wonwoo huffed sympathetically. âI get that even more.â
â⌠So, weâre still good for Spring Street on Sunday?â You asked, staring up at Wonwoo from your sunken, defeated slump.
He nodded.
âIâll be there if you are.â
âMAY 14TH.
The Spring Street Fair. It happened every single May, for three days straight, usually Friday to Sunday. In the daytime it was cheerier and more watered down for the children that came hand in hand with their parents, looking to feed the alpacas and ride those nauseating teacups and sob until exhaustion because they accidentally let go of their kitten-shaped balloon. However, at night, the fair had become a beacon for the older, rowdier university crowd.
Wonwoo never went despite all his recent years living in the city, but Vernon had, usually on accounts of âbusinessâ which really meant selling drugs for idiotic prices behind the Whirler or the Starship. You wanted to go, but hadnât told Wonwoo the reason. He opted to assume it was another part of your storyâmaybe you ran into Mingyu at a similar fair when you were younger, and it was therefore very integral you go Spring Street tonight. It was the exact opposite of what Wonwoo typically appreciated doing on Sundays, and he knew for a fact heâd loathe it, every single part.
âNo fuckinâ way!â Vernonâs voice exploded through the crackly static on Wonwooâs phone as he stood in line for the fair, gazing over top everyoneâs heads to gauge the ticket booth. âI canât believe your loser ass actually crawled outta bed for that.â
Wonwoo scoffed, âyeah, it wasnât my choice.â
âThen what for?â
âHer. She wanted to go. Itâs for the book.â
He was supposed to meet you inside the fair. It was almost ten oâclock at night. The sky was beautifully clear, illuminated with pinpricks of starlight, and the air had once been crisp. Now, Wonwoo was beginning to smell sparked cannabis, and he assumed a likewise scent would follow him all damn night. The horrid, anxious process of standing in the mile long line was made palatable through his conversation with Vernon, whoâshockinglyâwasnât even there.
âOhh, the book, the book. Waitâsheâs gonna write her book at the fuckinâ Spring Street Fair? How the fuck does that work?â
âNo, itâs not like that,â Wonwoo chuckled. âItâs stuff about the settings, the environment; she uses it to help with her writing.â
âHm, doesnât make much sense to me, probably âcause I donât like readin' or writin' or anything with books. But, damn, Iâm jealous of you, Glasses. Do yâknow how hard I tried to smooth talk my way into that girlâs pants? Nâsomehow, you can write goodââ
âWrite well, not good.â
âOh, fuck youâwrite wellâso she takes you everywhere like a little purse dog. When does that happen to me, yeah?â
The line started slowly pouring forward, and Wonwoo felt himself get dragged along. Probably another five minutes and he would be at the ticket booth, getting one of those neon bracelets circled around his wrist that were nearly impossible to rip off.
âWhy didnât you come?â Wonwoo asked.
Vernon groaned, âgot into some bullshit with this guy whoâs not payinâ up. Iâm handlinâ it, though. If I can manage to get it all sorted, Iâll come later. Itâs too fuckinâ easy selling those gummies to the first years, dude. Shit, it could be some Flintstone vitamins and theyâre actinâ like Chicken Little. Cracks me the fuck up.â
Wonwoo cleared his throat, smiling. âYouâre such a cunt.â
âHey, hey, you are what you eat, okay? And, when you get inside or whatever, text me where youâre hanginâ so if I do come, I can see you for a bit. Dunno if your girlfriend will approve.â
The air began mottling with a thin, chalky smoke that drifted from somewhere down the crowded string of university students. Again, the line shuffled, and the congestion gradually broke up as more people were allowed into the fair. Wonwoo switched the phone to his other ear, getting his wallet ready.
âDonât even start.â
âStart what? I said nothinâ.â Vernonâs laughter was raspy and obviously laced with a smirk that Wonwoo could hear.
âDonât be such a prick. Sheâs not myââ
Suddenly, Wonwooâs phone began vibrating against his palm, and when he pulled it down an immediate lump conjured in his throat upon reading your name. His heart jolted, and it wasnât until someone pushed hard on his back to urge him forward that he realized the line was once again ambling closer to the ticket booth.
Vernon sighed, âso, again, tell me where youâllââ
âShitâuh, gotta go. Talk to you later.â
A few remnants of Vernonâs miffed, guttural cursing managed to leak through the phone before Wonwoo could press to accept your call. In an instant, his friend was blipped away, and he heard your voice instead. He held back a cough from the astringent, cottonish air.
âWonwoo, hello. Iâm glad you picked up. So, where the hell are you? Itâs nearly ten! Did you not get in line early?â
Wonwoo kept the phone secured between his shoulder and ear while he shimmied the coins out from his wallet.
âNo, I did, promise. Just about to pay. Where are you?â
âWhen you get in, just follow the arrows. They're lit up with those blue lightbulbs. They go to the tavern. Iâm having some drinks with my friends. Donât worry. You wonât have to do much socializing.â
âUh, okay,â Wonwoo answered, internally counting up the money in his hand until he was certain of the amount. âMingyuâs there?â
âNo. He always plays poker with his friends on Sunday.â
An unbeknownst pressure escaped his chest.
âOkay. Iâm close to the front. Iâll see you in a bit.â
âSure. Donât be late!â
âI know. Bye.â
Hanging up the phone, Wonwoo had just enough time to wriggle the device into his back pocket before handing the ticket booth clerk his coins. She dropped the cold change into his hand, then asked to see his wrist, where she proceeded to attach the bracelet with the words Spring Street Fair etched into the orange, plasticky-feeling paper.
Finally, he was let inside.
Blue arrows, blue arrowsâthat was all Wonwoo kept reiterating in his head like some religious hymn as he followed the glow throughout the fairgrounds, weaving his way between large groups of people that he gleefully didnât recognize. Eventually, he saw the tavern you were referring toâan outdoor bar with picnic tables set up everywhere, beneath cheap little strings of warm, lambent lights.
Even with his glasses on, Wonwoo was still squinting as he walked between each table, attempting to discern your dolled-up face somewhere amongst the strangers sipping on their large mugs of alcohol, that was until he heard his name being called over the music rumbling from the barâs horrible speakers. When he looked straight ahead, he saw you cutely waving him over. With each step he took, Wonwoo reminded himself to breathe, to loosen up, to stop clenching his fists so painfully tight as though he were going to split someoneâs eyebrow. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Just breathe.
You stood up from the table to welcome him, and he felt your hand settle softly on his lower back. The touch was grounding.
âSo, everyone, girls, if I could get your attention for just a moment despite the general impairment going on hereâthis is the mystery guy whose been helping me write. Wonwoo.â
Godâhe wanted to puke, all those big, curious, unabashed eyes soaking him in like freshly dipped watercolour to a cloth canvas. There was a cluster of high-pitched voices that repeated his name in a shrill, unison greeting. However, Wonwoo was unable to meet a single girlâs gaze, and so he opted to stare down at a paper plate on the table aligned with cinnamon-sprinkled churros.
Again, he wanted to throw up.
âSo, of course, Wonwooâs been the biggest help with everything,â you said, to which he could sense your nails subtly digging at him through his clothes, most likely a silent urge to say something so he didnât seem so unprecedentedly stiff and metallic.
He cleared his throat.
âUh, yeah. Iâm just proofreading, really.â Wonwoo had to swallow. âSome tips here and there. But, sheâs pretty good as is.â
âIs that your actual voice?â
His eyes darted to find who asked the question. She was toward the end of the picnic table, tucking a lock of short, coffee brown hair behind her ear. Before the girl was a gigantic and fluorescent pink drink, the glass resembling the shape of a fish bowl.
â⌠What do you mean?â Wonwoo replied.
She sat up on her knee, continuing to ogle him with those fixated but glazed chestnut eyes. Her mouth seemed to drag as though it was thawing when she spoke. Wonwoo could tell she was already well inebriated. There was no way that was her first drink.
âYour voice,â she repeated, âitâs so⌠deep.â
âWell⌠I donât know. Puberty.â
His comment elicited some giggles from around the table, to which he could feel the cartilage in his ears burning.
âWonwooââ another girl then leaned forward with her head tilted up and a coy, drunk smile flittering on her mouth, ââI think itâs so, so great youâre helping Her write. I actually think itâs the sweetest, ever.â Her lashes were coated in smooth mascara and her eyelids were remarkably glimmery, drenched in an electric shade of blue that he couldnât stop staring at. âAlso, sorry, but youâre like, super gorge.â
âSuper what?â He repeated, confused at her wording.
But she didn't seem interested in repeating herself, instead scooping the long and impressively silky black hair off her shoulder to spill down her pale back.
âOkay, okay, okay. Weâve all shared some impetuous conversation and weâve all swooned over him now. Yippee. Unfortunately, weâve gotta get going, friends.â
Wonwoo felt your hand land on his shoulder and gently tug him backward, away from the table. You then proceeded to grab the glass left at your seat, chugging the remaining alcohol until there was nothing but a melting block of ice cubes clicking at the bottom. While you wiped your mouth, you began aiming a finger at each girl.
âTo make a long story short, thatâs Princess, Clara, and Bells. Do you have any comments for them before we go?â The impatience in your tone was bleeding through with sheer apathy.
Wonwoo shrugged. âUh, nice to meet everyone? I guess.â
âShort and efficient. How perfect. Okay, Iâll see you guys later, I think. Actuallyâprobably not. So can someone eat my churros?â
Your arm curled around Wonwooâs bicep as though to whisk him away as hurriedly as possible. Everyone left at the table began waving, and Wonwoo couldnât even bring himself to force a fake, pleasant smile because he was still attempting to understand what all those comments even meant. You walked briskly until the poetic, firefly lights of the tavern were lost long behind in the distance, and when you finally paused, he had not a clue where he was standingâa busy centre with people mingling all around him, the wild whirring of carnival rides and chaotic, blinking hues strobing above his head.
When he looked down at you, he was surprised to see you were already staring back, and he could only hold the eye contact for no more than a few seconds or else his heart would skip a beat.
âSorry about all that,â you said, rolling your shoulders, âI tried to be somewhat reasonable with my drinking for once. I canât say the same for Clara and Bells. They guzzle cocktails like apple juice.â
âBells is⌠the one with all that sparkly blue eyeshadow?â
âOhâyeah. She loves sparkles. Glitter. Anything glimmery. Sheâs been like that ever since Iâve known her. Clara was the one who asked about your voice. She has a thing for guys with deep voices and you unfortunately fit the bill. And Iâm sorry that Princess didnât say anything. She kind of just looks and observes. Also Iâm like ninety-eight percent sure she popped something in a porta-potty before we met up so sheâs probably in a mental state of star-surfing. Anyway. You donât have to worry about them, alright? Itâs just us for tonight.â
 âWell, thatâs⌠easy enough.â
âIâm not sure if we should stand here.â
âHm?â
You then pointed to something behind Wonwoo, and when he turned his head, he felt a gust of wind from the gigantic, spinning ride that resembled a flying saucer in the nighttime sky. It was always beyond him why anyone would choose to strap themselves into a machine that terrifying. It made him sick just watching.
âIf I get throw up on my head, Iâm killing myself.â
âOkay, so letâs find somewhere else.â
As he began walking away in search of a quieter area, you grabbed onto the back of his clothes. Wonwoo raised his eyebrow.
âWe have to hold hands, or have arms linked,â you said.
For some reason, Wonwoo presumed you were joking, and so he tilted his head at you with a questioning smile. But when your serious expression didnât crack, he realized it wasnât a joke at all.
âOh⌠why?â
âBecauseââ you then took a step toward him and spoke matter-of-factly, like you were reading a rule book, ââitâs the buddy system. Always have someone at your side, and make sure youâre linked in some way. Itâs too easy to get separated in places like this, otherwise. Have you never heard of that before?â
âI have,â Wonwoo answered, adjusting his glasses. âMyâum, my hands are a little cold. I donât have the best circulation.â
The truth was, Wonwoo didnât want to hold your hand. He didnât want to link arms with you. He didnât want you pressed into his side all night. He didnât want to have the scent of your hair under his nose or feel your ticklish breath against his neck each time you spoke.
But he didnât have a good enough excuse to fight it.
âOh my god, who cares,â you retorted. âAnd I have super sweaty hands. Like, uncomfortably warm. We'll balance out.â
 âActually?â
âYes! Is that a problem for you, sweetheart?â
Wonwoo quickly shook his head in response to your condescending tone. You then reached for his hand, which he offered up for your required holding, and chose to ignore the butterflies in the deep pit of his stomach when he realized how perfectly your fingers slotted with his. He followed your lead through the fair until you came outside a small lemonade booth. Wonwoo thought you would drop his hand, but you didnât, and his knees felt like gelatine.
âI want another drink,â you told him.
He squinted at their options, which didnât really consist of much. The prices were obviously insaneâit was another reason he hated going to fairs. His wallet always got cleaned out.
âYouâre going to have to use the washroom a lot.â
âUgh,â you gritted in response, brushing some hair from your face, âI hate public washrooms. Theyâre so gross. Completely unsanitary. Awful maintenance. One time I was here and I walked into the washroom by the Mirror Hall and I swear, a freaking rat ran across the floor! I screamed bloody murder. Iâd rather squat in the bush and risk getting, like, poison ivy. But the washrooms have mirrors obviously, and I like checking my makeup and stuff. I wish I could check now.â
âRight now? I mean, your makeup looks fine.â
Wonwoo saw your entire face freeze, and then begin to warp, as though heâd just said the most dreadful thing he could think of.
âFine?â You glared at him. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
He started stumbling over his words, feeling his chest tighten.
âSo, what youâre saying is that I look ugly? That my makeup looks bad? Because if you really thought it was âfineâ then you wouldnât have said it looks âfineâ because everyone knows that word is a substitute for passable and passable is just a substitute for ugly!â
He opened his mouth, then instantly closed it.
âSo whatâs wrong with it? Are my under eyes creasing? Is my contour too dark? Is my lipstick smudged? Did it get on my teeth? Ugh, I knew I should have brought my compact!â
âNo, no, no.â Wonwoo squeezed your hand, hoping that he could somehow undo the damage he had no intention of even inflicting in the first place. âUhâIâm sorry, I didnât mean it that way. You lookââ he wasnât sure he could say the compliment without shivering, but Wonwoo didnât care in the moment, ââyour makeup is beautifully done. Thereâs no creasing or smudging, thereâs none of that."
You kept touching worrisomely at your face. âAre you sure?â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
âI promise.â Wonwoo confirmed, giving your hand another tight, reassuring squeeze that seemed to calm you down.
He had never seen someone switch gears that quickly. You could be perfectly amicable one second, and then break down into near hysteria the next, a slew of anxious thoughts running straight from your brain to your mouth like clockwork.
Wonwoo wondered how Mingyu dealt with such tangents all the time. The trait almost didnât seem to fit your image.
The line moved forward another step.
âAre you going to drink anything?â You asked after a moment of silence, in a quieter voice. âI want to get the strawberry refresher.â
âMaybe.â
âWhat will you get?â
âI⌠donât know. A regular lemonade?â
âNo,â you shook your head, pointing toward the corner of the boothâs menu, âget the pina colada thing. I want to try it, too.â
âOkay,â Wonwoo agreed with a shrug as he retrieved his wallet, not really caring about what he drank. âIâll pay for it. No worries.â
The longer Wonwoo was at the fair, the less he actually thought about why he was there, until the question leapt into his mind at random while he stood beside you, waiting for a seat on the dauntingly large Farris wheel. He removed the straw from his mouth, swallowing a gulp of his pina colada flavoured drink, and peered down at you. His hand was still interlinked with yours. You had finished the strawberry refresher in about five minutes.
Now, you were texting someone. He didnât know if it was a friend from earlier or perhaps your boyfriend, but Wonwoo wasnât a serious sleuth, so he opted to look away despite the natural urge that was pricking him. When you finally tucked the phone back into the small bag slung around your shoulder, Wonwoo lowered the plastic cup from his mouth, making sure to clear his throat.
âSo, uh, why are we here, exactly?â
You sniffled. âWhat do yâmean?â
âDoes the fair have anything to do with your writing? Is that why weâre riding the Farris wheel? Ohâspeaking of which, I didnât think to bring the camcorder, in case you wanted any footage.â
âOh, no,â you said, waving a dismissive hand, âthis has nothing to do with my book. Weâre palate cleansing.â
âPalate cleansing?â He echoed.
âYeah. Itâs like, doing something different in between a routine, to keep yourself fresh. You always eat breakfast at home but today you skip it and go out for brunch. Yâknow, shit like that.â
Wonwoo huffed in amusement. âYou could have told me beforehand.â
âUh, noââ your face scrunched up in clear disagreement, ââI couldnât, because then you wouldnât have gone. No offence, but youâre a hermit, Wonwoo. You donât really like going anywhere or doing anything and youâre definitely one of those people who bores themselves into hating their own life because your stimuli is so limited. Thatâs why I didnât tell. Again, no offence.â
âOh.â
That was all he could string together in responseânot even string together, because it was just one boring, monotone sound that basically got carried away in the chilly wind, tinted with the smell of buttery popcorn and weed. It sounded like something that was supposed to sting, but it didnât really. Maybe he was growing more accustomed to your unprompted judgements on his personal life.
Suddenly Wonwoo had blinked and you two were next in line for the empty cart. The clerk pointed at Wonwooâs drink.
âYou canât bring that with you,â he said.
Before Wonwoo could think to respond, you had already grabbed the cup from his hand, chucking it straight into the garbage.
âWeâre not.â
Pulling on his hand, you guided him into the shaky cart, both of you squishing onto the cold, metal bench. It was quite literally the tamest ride in the entire fair, and yet Wonwoo was still feeling nervous about itâthough, that was possibly the fact he was going to be sailed one-hundred feet into the satin black sky, left amongst the stars and the bright, shimmering halo of the moon with you and you alone. He was actually relieved you had tossed his drink, otherwise he might have dropped it due to the trembling in his fingers. It was easier to fiddle with them in order to disguise their shakiness.
âI guess I should have asked if youâre afraid of heights,â you said.
The cart jerked abruptly as the ride began to move and lift you two ever so gradually from the ground. Wonwoo peered over the edge for a brief moment to watch his distance grow from the people below, their jumbled mess of conversations fading in place of quiet.
âUh, no. Iâm okay with heights,â he finally answered.
He saw you glancing down as well, smiling to yourself.
Wonwoo wasnât sure if he should attempt at conversation or just maintain the stillness between you. Usually, he couldnât stand it, and the pressure to talk and fill the silence always tended to fail or squander something potentially enjoyable. But he supposed it was typically like that in a situation where two people werenât the best acquaintedâthatâs why Wonwoo always quite liked Vernon, despite his rough, nonconformed edges and often vulgar way of speaking.
He was able to carry a conversation so naturally that the quieter moments never felt suffocating, instead falling exactly where they should, like puzzle pieces. But that was harder with you.
Maybe it was because you could be intimidating, unpredictableâWonwoo was never truly relaxed around you because there was this intangible, looming worry that he needed to have the perfect responses and be the most perfect person. He found that perfect people only hung out with other perfect people and Wonwoo was certainly not thatâperfect. You must have seen it by now. He was just as rough as Vernon no doubt, but in a different, hidden way that had to be dug into like an archeologist looking for broken bones.
The Ferris wheel slowed down, coming to a stop. You werenât at the very top, though the air was notably cooler and much fresher. When he inhaled a long breath, it smelled purely of night and not overpriced, buttery fair food and burning weed. He noted that you stared straight ahead, at the crescent-shaped moon, which mirrored a backward stare with how squarely it sat in front of the ride. For once, Wonwoo wasnât squirming, wriggling, stressing at the silence. When he spoke, he did it because he genuinely wanted to.
âHow was your Saturday?â
âMy Saturday?â
âYeah. I saw the schedule. You had to run a bunch of errands with your mom. Looked like you were pretty keyed up.â
âOh, yeah. I mean, I want to say I was overreacting the day before about how much I was dreading it. But then it fucking happened. And⌠I, uh⌠I realized I was exactly right. It was awful. I did get to your notes, though⌠yeahâI justâI squeezed them in between brunch with my momâs friend who could talk herself to death and the excruciating car ride to the publisherâs office.â
âMmhm.â Wonwoo smiled tenderly. âDid they help at all?â
âYeah,â you breathed out, âa lot, actually⌠thank you.â
âIâm sorry your Saturday went so terribly.â
Huffing in response, you nibbled on your inner check.
âYeah, well, it is what it is⌠I already knew it was gonna be a shit show. So, what is it that you write about, anyway? Because you seem like you know a whole lot. Seokmin says you let him read some of your poetry, but it was only like, two excerpts.â
âOh, yeah.â
Wonwoo recalled the memory of Seokmin picking up his leather notebook when it fell out from his bag one day. Heâd pestered him about the contents until Wonwoo succumbed and presented him with some lifeless, impatiently scribbled prose that heâd most likely jerked out on the bus or in between his lectures. Seokmin seemed to treat it like fine, prestigious gold, though Wonwoo knew it was the least personal of his work that he would never let another living soul on the planet breatheânot one scent of the ink or even the paper.
âSo, you write poetry?â
âI started writing poetry, haikus and all that easy stuff. I developed the interest a lot more through high school. But I never sat down and tried writing anything like a novel until I... I started uni.â
âYeah. Deciding to be a math major. I still donât get it,â you sighed, fidgeting with some rings on your fingers. âBut what do you even write about? Like, whatâs your inspiration?â
Wonwoo paused, looking down at his knees.
â⌠Life.â
âLife?â You defeatedly slumped into the seat. âThatâs the million dollar answer your intelligent brain chose to erect? Itâs just that when I think about it, Iâm letting you help me with my writing, but Iâve never even read a little smidgen of yours. Howâs that fair?â
The higher the Farris Wheel climbed, the stronger the breeze blew, and Wonwoo could feel its tendrils lashing across his cheeks and parting through his hair. You huddled further into your jacket.
âWell, you took Seokminâs word for it,â Wonwoo laughed.
Your eyes rolled, but you smiled gently. âI know.â
Suddenly, your hand had reached out, and you were pushing the floppy, black tresses off his forehead. Wonwooâs fingers dug bluntly into his arms. You then angled yourself in the small cart, looking back at him, sculpting your gaze to each crest in his face.
âWhy donât you ever push your hair back?â
The question hit the dark, cold atmosphere like a sizzling ember and Wonwoo was afraid to even open his mouth because he was certain a dying squeak would come out. You continued to play around with the locks, earthing your fingers deep into its texture and attempting to style it despite the persistent, fluttering breeze.
âUmâŚâ
âIf you styled it like thisââ you moved in closer, staring with so much focus at your nimble movements, ââyeah, like that. It shows off your forehead, gives you a bit of class. I mean, the windâs messing it up. You donât tend to do anything with your hair.â
âNo.â Wonwoo swallowed, hard.
âWell, you should. Not all the time, obviously. And Iâm not saying you look bad with it downânot at all. But youâve got nice, smouldering features and theyâre so much more⌠framed⌠when you show your forehead.â You collapsed back into the seat, and that tingly feeling he experienced when your fingers had been tugging and pulling was disseminating throughout his entire body. âI mean, look at how my friends reacted to you. I should apologize for that again, by the way. O-M-F-G, they see one hot guy, and they lose their grip.â
He nearly choked. âHot?â
It didnât sound right. Not at all.
âWell, what the fuck, Wonwoo? Youâre not ugly.â
âDid you think that when you first saw me?â
You had folded your leg again as the Farris wheel came to another stop. This time, at the very top, at the centre of the night.
âDid I think what? That youâre not ugly?â
âNever mind,â Wonwoo grimaced, hearing the cart creek as you better positioned yourself to face him. âItâs pathetic like that.â
âNo. I didnât think you were ugly. Did you think I was ugly?â
Wonwoo wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the question, but he smothered it down because he knew one little laugh might hit your ear the wrong way, and it would be flames, sputtering and spewing. Obviously, he didnât think you were uglyâhe never had, even before he ever spoke to you. But he wasnât so shallow as to only regard someoneâs physical appearance. You were still terrifying.
âI wouldnât consider anyone ugly... and I wouldnât ever use it to describe some aesthetically. ButâI mean, I think people can become ugly through their personality, if that makes sense.â
âYeah, like, if theyâre rotten inside.â
âMmhm.â
âI agree.â
âWhat was that word your friend Bells said?â
You shrugged, âwhich word?â
âShe said something like, youâre super⌠I donât know⌠super something.â
âOhââ you sat up more in the cart, your back pressed against the uncomfortable corner, ââBells said you were super gorge.â
âMeaningâŚâ
âMeaning super gorgeous.â You made a big show of the rehashed compliment, parroting your friend's tone and swaying your shoulders.
âOh⌠really?â Wonwoo shook his head. âI thought she was referring to gorge as in when you gorge yourself, from eating.â
âNo,â you giggled at him, âitâs a short form, dumb-dumb.â
âWhy make a short form out of that? Is it really that strenuous to say the word gorgeous? Itâs only an extra syllable.â
âOkay, well, this isnât the nineteen-twenties. We donât all cross our Tâs and dot our Iâs. It reminds me of how you text.â
He furrowed his brow. âHow do I text?â
Your eyes rolled frivolously. âI dunno. Like youâre typing to a business colleague or something. Youâre so formal. When I think of you texting, I imagine itâs like someone using a typewriter. And that funny little ding sound it makes whenever you start a new line.â
âOh.â
âWhatâno oneâs ever told you that before? No way.â
âThat I text like Iâm using a fucking typewriter? No, actually. I canât say Iâve heard that.â
âWell, itâs not a big deal. Youâre just not very plugged into the internet, I suppose. Which is a good thing. It gives you prestige.â
At that, Wonwoo chuckled. âDoes it?â
âYes,â you smiled, eyes full of starlight, âandâjust ignore Bells, okay? She was being kind of weird but that can be fully attributed to those three shots I told her not to take.â
âHm.â
You continued to stare at him with a plotting smile.
âHm what? Whatâs the matter?â The metal of the cart squeaked as you leaned forward, your voice suddenly lathered in mischief. âDid you think she was cute?â He heard your tone drop, and your low, smooth voice breathing hot against his ear. âDid you think about fucking her, Wonwoo?â
âNoâwhat the fuckânot at all.â Quickly, heâd pushed you away and off his shoulder, to which you retreated into the corner with a giggle that should have made his skin crawl, but didnât.
âWell, how would I know?â You answered, tilting your head and stretching out your arms high into the blackness, as though you were trying to reach for a star. âI never know, because you never look at me. It makes me think you just lied and you do think Iâm ugly.â
Wonwoo glanced over the edge of the cart, at the almost nauseating distance between himself and the fairgrounds, covered with miniature, bustling people that seemed like breadcrumbs by comparison to their place in the sky. He didnât want to sink into this conversation. Besides, how was he supposed to look at you when your fingers were just gliding through his hair and your lips were whispering close enough to brush up against his ear? How was he supposed to act composed? Normal?
âHey, Wonwoo?â Your fingers snapped.
But he just kept thinking. Like he was cut from a separate cloth than youâthe fabric of his universe wasnât woven with yours and he could ruminate as much as he wanted to and it was impossible to hear your intrusions. Why couldnât he look at you?
You intimidated him, yes. You scared him, double yes.
He already knew that. It couldnât just be that.
âWonwoo? God⌠you shut down over the simplest things.â
âI donât know.â
You paused, staring him up and down, perplexed.
âWhat? What do you mean?â
âI donât know why I canât look at you.â
There was a lasting silence between you. Wonwoo felt like he might throw up for acknowledging the fact out loud, and his fist tightened in his lap as though to ground himselfâto remember where he was and to breathe slowly, because having a panic attack on top of a stupid Ferris Wheel was the last place it should happen. He hadnât even realized that youâd shifted closer, one leg curled beneath you while you spoke at the side of his head. But he didnât hear you, couldnât see youâthere was a harsh void inside him that sounded like suctioning air and static. His fingernail was pressing so deeply into the flesh of his pale skin that it was beginning to faintly bleed.
Andâall of a suddenâthere were these hands cautiously gripping onto his face, pulling him toward you. He kept staring at the movement of your soft lips, focusing on their pronunciation until everything flooded back in one overwhelming whirl and it felt like being slammed by a freight train.
Wonwoo then grabbed onto your bare knee as a crutch. He didnât mean to. But you didnât seem to care.
ââeverything okay? Wonwoo? Do I need to like, call someone? Because you look like youâre going to be sick.â
He heaved in a gaping breath, feeling how cold the midnight air was in the thinning atmosphere that encompassed him. It was soothing, akin to a hand massaging along his back.
âWonwoo?â You repeated his name, sounding awfully scared.
Pulling off his glasses, he rubbed at his eyes. He blurrily saw you touch the spot on your knee where his hand had buried into.
âSorry,â he then coughed through the heartbeat raspy in his throat, bringing the glasses back to his face, âI spaced out.â
âSpaced out?â You echoed. âThat wasnât spacing out.â
âIt doesnât matter.â
He thought you fight might it.
âWellâŚâ you sighed, glancing around uncertainly, âare you okay? Is there someone you want to call? I donât know.â
But you didnât. Thank God.
âNo, Iâmââ he stopped, gulping back the words.
â⌠Yeah?â There was a softer intrigue in your cadence.
Wonwoo looked at you. Fully this time. He looked straight into your eyes that were like a glossy, moonlit ocean, detailed with swirling riptides of surprise and apprehensiveness, but also immense depth that seemed genuinely appreciative of his gesture.
âIâm fine.â
And then he watched you nod, smile, and in return study his cavern eyes with the same intensity and wonder. It was such a peculiar experience, staring at you, understanding a little more of your truth, your gentleness.
He didnât feel as scared.
âMAY 16TH.
Wonwoo had been standing before the mirror in his washroom for the past half-hour or so, primarily just staring, examining, and pulling at the long, limp fronds of his hair. There was a point in his life when he legitimately put effort into styling it, and all his old hair products were still sitting in the cabinet. Though, his ex-girlfriend had tended to help him with it most days, because he found the strands were just too thick and stubborn to work with.
However, since the Spring Street Fair, Wonwoo hadnât been able to shake those comments you madeâabout how nicely his face could be framed and the smouldering nature of his features. He would never think to describe himself that way as it seemed particularly pompous and kind of foolish, but hearing you say it was different. The thing was, Wonwoo had no idea where to start, and attempting to rummage his fingers through his hair just didnât feel as stimulating or electric compared to your meticulous, sweet touch.
In the midst of opening his cabinet for a comb, Wonwoo heard his phone vibrate. He looked down at the sink, seeing the screen brighten with a text notification from Vernon.
[ Vernon | 12:54 pm ]: hey Glasses
[ Vernon | 12:54 pm ]: Solar Pop at 2?
Wonwoo thought about it for a moment, running his thumb down the spine of the comb to hear the little thwip. And then he sighed in decision, texting back a thumbs up. Itâs not like he was working later, and as much as Wonwoo would love to believe that today might be the day he made actual progress on his own story, he knew it was just wishful thinking. In reality heâd waste ample time staring into the document, pondering all the scenes and emotions and nuances he could write rather than moving to write anything at all.
Besides, he hadnât eaten yet today. The thought of a juicy, sauce-slathered, bun-toasted burger being his first meal prompted the boyâs face to sallow greenly with sickness, but the longer he stood in the washroom, combing and slicking and running styling balm through the black birdâs nest on his head, Wonwoo felt the hunger start to bite like an emaciated, starved dog. He left his apartment knowing he would be somewhat late, but Vernon was always later.
And while Wonwoo sat in one of the booths at Solar Pop, flicking the laminated menu back and forth despite knowing the exact order he was going to place, he thought about sending Vernon another text to ask where the hell he even was. Wonwoo could only sip his slippery glass of coke for so long until the waitress decided he was crazy and had been one-hundred percent stood up.
âHey, fuck, Iâm here.â
2:24 pmâthatâs when Vernon finally arrived, sliding himself into the leather bench opposite to Wonwoo while tossing his big, metallic clump of keys onto the table. The boy then proceeded to shimmy off his black jacket, propping his elbows onto the table.
If Vernon ever pulled a tardy stunt like that with you, Wonwoo imagined his friend would probably get stuffed into one of those boxes for sawing people in half. Except it wouldnât be magic.
âDid you get pulled over or something? Police raid? Traffic stop?â Wonwoo asked, now resting his menu down flat.
Vernon laughed, shaking his head. âUh, no. Couldnât find my fuckinâ car keys,â he spoke in a breathless voice. âSorry âbout it.â
âCouldnât find them?â Wonwoo almost scoffed at the excuse while his friend began scouring his way through the menu. âDude, theyâre the fucking size of a bowling ball. How could you lose them?â
âOkay, okay. Fuckinâ skin me alive, why donât you?â
âYou didnât come from your place, Iâm guessing.â
At that, Vernon began to grin, the metal on his pierced lip glinting underneath a ray of sunlight through the blinds. He was still occupied with choosing which burger he wanted. Wonwoo picked the same choice every time. Vernon always tried something different.
âNo, I didnât,â he rasped, flashing his sharp teeth and flipping the menu over, âbut when Maleeha Rabia sends you a text at goddamn one in the morning of her tits, you donât roll over nâ go to bed like some loser. Besides, my ecstasy was just sittinâ around and I had to use it one way or another. Anyway, doesnât fuckinâ matter. I think Iâll get the Double Bacon Crunch Burger. Sounds good as hell.â
Finally, Vernon threw the menu down with conviction.
âJesus Christââ his copper-burnt eyes then flared open as he looked across the table at his friend, ââwho the fuck are you?â
Wonwoo itched his nose. âUm, what?â
Vernon leaned forward, seeming captivated. âUh, your fuckinâ hair? Howâd you get it like that? Itâs all brushed over and soft lookinâ and shit. I feel like I shouldnât be sittinâ with you, Prince Charminâ.â
âI just put some balm in it, combed it around,â he answered, reaching for his drink. âTook me a humiliating amount of time.â
âWell, consider me starstruck. Whatâs made you do all that?â
Before Wonwoo could answer, the waitress returned to the table with her small notepad and shiny pen. Vernon pitched his order first, and Wonwoo followed, asking for the regular quarter-pounder with a side of hot crinkle-cut fries. Once she whisked the menus away and promised to grab Vernonâs root beer float, Wonwoo realized he still had to answer his friendâs question. He didnât exactly want to tell the truth, because he knew Vernon would never let him hear the end of it, but Wonwoo also didnât want to be too dishonest.
âYour face is doinâ that thing.â
âWhat thing?â Wonwoo answered, swallowing his sip of soda.
Vernon crossed his arms on the table, accenting the canvas of darkly-inked tattoos needled into his skin. He shook his head.
âItâs âcause of your little girlyfriend, isnât it?â
Fuck. Wonwoo should have just opened his mouth straight away and spieled out some quick-witted lie. Now he would be painfully subject to Vernonâs unfiltered teasing. Leaning back in his seat, Wonwoo unearthed a miserable sigh at Vernonâs smirk.
âYouâve gotta drop that bullshit.â
âItâs true,â Vernon pressured.
âNo, itâs not.â
As though to interpret Wonwooâs steadfastness as a challenge, Vernon leaned further over the table, dropping his voice but still smiling devilishly through every word he mimicked between his teeth.
âOh, Wonwoo, your hair looks so fucking sexy like that. It makes you look so perfect. Youâre from my dreams. Please, just fuck me right here, right now so I can push my fingers through it âcause itâs so soft and silky and Iâm basically in love with you.â
âShut the fuck up. Please.â
âThat was a good impression, though, wasnât it?â
In the loud space of Wonwooâs disgusted silence, the waitress placed Vernonâs drink onto the table and ensured the food would be coming soon. Vernon watched her walk away, back into the kitchen.
âHey,â he then grinned in capitulating fashion, âtake a stupid joke, alright? I know sheâs not in love with you and she doesnât wanna suck your dickâsheâs got a fuckinâ boyfriend. If it makes you feel any better, I��m just projectinâ âcause you know Iâm jealous.â
Wonwoo sucked in a sip from his coke, shaking his head.
âThereâs nothing to be jealous of.â
âYeah, yeah,â Vernon dismissed, poking his spoon at the near perfect scoop of vanilla ice cream afloat in the frosty mug, âbut just so yâknow, your mopey ass left me out to dry on Sunday night. Shoved me off the phone, didnât respond to one of my texts. Youâre lucky I even asked you tâhang today. Did she take your phone or somethingâ?â
Shit. When Vernon said it like that, Wonwoo seemed like a terrible friend. Maybe he did deserve a deal of teasing. But at the same time, Wonwoo knew how easy it was for your attitude to flip and he hadnât been at all interested in starting the night with hostility.
âOkay, fair.â He admitted, rolling up his sleeves.
âAnd?â Vernon raised his eyebrows expectantly.
âIâm sorry.â
âThere you fuckinâ go. Thatâs all I wanted tâhear, Glasses.â
The truth was, Wonwoo actually quite enjoyed his time with you that nightâdespite the transient, bickering hiccups and his nearly faltering panic attack, he had fun. Actual fun. Of course, as soon as your ride ended on the Ferris wheel, youâd clutched onto his hand like a snake sinking in its fangs and dragged him throughout the entirety of the fair to find a washroom. Nonetheless, he really loved playing some carnival games with you, like skee ball and the water pistol. He was even able to win you a pink stuffed bear that you had carried close to the chest for the remainder of your time at the fair.
Wonwoo thought he could spend another night like that with you again. Just to get out of his apartment, to feel exhilaration in the pit of his stomach, to laugh until his lungs dried out, to hold your warm, comforting hand in his even when it became too clammy or inconvenient because otherwise you would scold him for letting go.
âFoodâs on the way,â Vernon perked up like a child about to be served a slice of birthday cake as the waitress walked over with two full plates, âif you canât finish yours, Iâll take it.â
âYeahâhow about you focus on chewing and not choking to death first,â Wonwoo sighed, watching his friendâs metaphorical tail wag.
Once she set the food down, inquiring about any refills, and left while flashing her perfected customer service smile, Vernon grabbed the burger with both his hands, taking a gigantic, succulent bite that somehow didnât singe the roof of his mouth. Wonwoo winced, instead going for his crisped, golden fries. Â
âDamn. Youâre really that hungry?â
âIâm ravenous,â Vernon mumbled, picking up a few caramelized onions that fell onto his plate. âDude, I woke up at noon in Maleehaâs bed. She was out cold. Nothinâ in her pantry but some stale fuckinâ Fruit Loops that I may have tried. Iâm a grown ass man. I need a meal.â
âIâm glad youâre so proactive," Wonwoo answered, sinking his burning hot fry into the small side-bowl of ketchup.
It took them less than half an hour to clean their plates. Wonwoo tended to eat at a slower pace, with smaller, more savoury bites, while Vernon sloppily devoured his entire burger and gobbled down his fries with the occasional dipping into the root beer floatâs ice cream. They scarcely talked in between, too focused on eating and drinking. Wonwoo pushed away his plate when heâd finished and proceeded to wipe off his salty, crumb-speckled fingers with a napkin, meanwhile Vernon took a moment to sink backward into the leather seat, placing a hand over his full, satiated stomach.
âHey, do yâthink they have any Life Savers?â He eventually piped up while sticking a toothpick into his mouth. âI want grape.â
Wonwoo scoffed, tossing the napkin onto his plate and taking out his phone. âWho the fuck likes grape?â
âMe, you smartass,â Vernon answered, turning backward in his seat and scanning the restaurant for any colourful candy bowls.
He couldnât deny that he was hoping to see a text from you, but there was nothing, and his chest dropped. Wonwoo decided to open the schedule you had made, curious as to what you were even doing todayâwork until five oâclock, and then you were going out for supper with some friends at Terra Cotta.
He thought about texting you. His thumbs kept hovering above the keyboard in contemplation, even though he knew for certain he wouldnât text anything. He would just stare and hope.
âHoly shit. Uh, oh my God. Wonwoo. I-I seeââ
Vernon had suddenly reached a hand onto the table, slapping the lacquered wood a few times to garner his attention.
âWhat?â He mumbled in agitation, keeping his focus glued to the phone. âIf you see the Life Savers just go up and take some. I swear, theyâre not gonna fucking care youâre not twelve years old.â
âNo, no, no, dumbass,â Vernon hissed, turning back around in the booth, his honey eyes glistering in oils of dread and panic. âLook, actually look. Thatâs Mingyu, isnât it?â
Immediately, Wonwoo clicked off his phone, instead squinting into the distant corner of the restaurant where a notably tall, black-haired boy with tanned, amber skin had emerged from a doorway, standing in a somehow casual but imposing way that only be Mingyu.
It must be Mingyu, and that fact became glaringly obvious when Wonwoo made the unintentional, floundering mistake of staring straight into the boyâs wandering and earthen brown eyes.
âOh my fuckinâ God, oh my fuckinâ God,â Vernon kept reiterating under his breath, bouncing his knee like an anxious student waiting for their test. âHe definitely saw us. Orâhe definitely saw you. This is so bad, man. I think heâs gonna rock me.â
âWhat?â Wonwoo whispered back harshly, attempting to float his gaze away from Mingyu in a casual manner. âFor what reason?â
It seemed like Vernon almost wanted to gag at him. âUmâbecause of what fuckinâ happened between me nâ his girl! At that party? I told you about that shit, didnât I?â He rasped from across the table, his bottom lip worried between biting teeth. âDude, what if he tries to pull a fast one? Youâre whatâlike six foot something? You have to help back me up. I can throw a pretty solid punchâeven better when Iâm shit-facedâbut that might not be enough. Lady Libertyâs built like a brick.â
âOkay, youâre acting crazy,â Wonwoo uttered in disbelief. âI doubt heâs going to be anything but physical, especially in a public place. And, you said you didnât know Her was in a relationship.â
âHow the fuck do I know he knows that? Canât exactly use my infectious charm on someone whose girlfriend I tried to rail.â
Vernon somehow dared to spare another rapid glance over his shoulder, only to shed an entire mould of colour from his complexion.
âHeâs coming, heâsââ
âShut up and relax,â Wonwoo mumbled. âIâm sure itâs nothing bigâheâll say a thing or two and be on his way. God, Iâll handle it.â
For some reason, Wonwoo thought he should be sinking into consternation a lot more than he actually was, but itâs not that his chest wasnât thumping or his mind wasnât spinning amuck with worry. It was more so that he was managing the whirlwind, as best he could, as much as he could manage. Mingyu wasnât a complete stranger, and all their past interactions had been boringly cordial or even forgettable. Nonetheless, Wonwoo would still prefer to avoid the boy because that made his life simpler in the grand scheme of anxiety.
âHey, Wonwoo,â Mingyu approached the table with a confident, leisurely stride, extending his large hand for Wonwoo to grab, exchanging a dap. âI almost didnât recognize you for a sec.â
âAll good,â Wonwoo answered, attempting a polite grin that felt much more sweltering on the inside than out. âHowâve you been?â
Mingyu shrugged, burying his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants while he gazed at the slitted curtains for a moment, pondering his reply. âDecent. Playing a lot of basketball. I donât think Iâve seen you since I came to the pharmacy. You still there?â
âStill there.â
âWell, at least I havenât had to come in for a fuckinâ pregnancy test yet. Thatâs good I suppose, yeah?â The boy chuckled, then tilting his head a certain way to crack a stiff spot in his neck.
âAisle five if you ever need it.â
Mingyu responded with a smirk that perhaps lasted a second too long, and these slimming, analyzing eyesâa gaze that Wonwoo felt ripple in his gut. He chose to believe it was nothing dire, or else he would spiral right there on the spot and lose all fine-tuned control.
Meanwhile Vernon had been sitting quietly the entire time, most likely hoping he would remain in the dark, skulking shadows outside Wonwooâs spotlight. But he must not have been hoping hard enough, because Mingyu proceeded to smile at him, again extending his hand for another dap, which Vernon yielded apprehensively.
âYouâre a pretty recognizable guy, unfortunately,â Mingyu acknowledged with a husky laughâa clear reference to the boyâs identifying tattoos and numerous facial piercings, âI think you deal to at least a third of my friends. Itâs Vernon, right?â
âMmhm. Yes sir.â To Vernonâs luck, he had a well-polished and gleaming smile that made it impossible for him to seem disingenuous, though Wonwoo knew he was wilting inside.
âIâm sorry about Dots.â
âOh, uh. All good. It is what it is, yâknow?â
Mingyu nodded.
âHeyâthose tattoos are crazy good. Whereâd you get them?â
Vernon looked across his arm. âThanks. Mostly Liquid Impactâdude there that I call Funfetti âcause he eats Funfetti box cake all the time. Uh, but his actual nameâs like, Axel or some white-boy shit like that. Heâs done a majority of it. The othersâman, I donât know. Half the time Iâm off my fuckinâ face and wake up with shit I never remember.â
âOh, yeah?â Mingyu sniffed, running a hand through his long, shiny onyx locks of hair. âGuess you also donât remember promising my girlfriend the best sex of her life, right?â
At that, Vernon looked straight to Wonwoo, and Wonwoo returned the enlarged, incinerating stare straight back, reading the split-second terror that swam like flopping fish in Vernonâs eyes. The atmosphere hit the ground with a palpable and ugly shatter.
âYeah, umâabout thatââ
Mingyu then balanced backward on his foot for a moment, beginning to chuckle, sway his head, as though to dismiss the entire accusation in the same intense breadth it was mentioned.
âNah, nah. Iâm playing around,â the boy chuckled, rubbing at his nose. âYou didnât know she was taken. No hard feelings, yeah?â
Vernon immediately nodded his agreement, and the tension nailed into his broad shoulder line seemed to melt. âFor sure. No hard feelings. I mean, sheâs beautiful. Canât even imagine what itâs like beinâ her boyfriend when youâve got sluts like me around.â
Mingyu grinned, âno, youâre good. I know she gave you some attitude about it. Bit of a troublemaker herself. But, yeah. Water under the bridge.â The boyâs attention then turned back to Wonwoo, who was more than eager to somehow extinguish the conversation from you as a topic. âI know sheâs hangs out with you right now.â
âOh, yeah,â Wonwoo hummed, âthe book thing.â
âShe doesnât like talking to me about it.â
âWell, donât stress,â he answered, catching the sunlight that blitzed through the curtains and dipped like a gold paintbrush into the boyâs eyes, turning them to warm molasses, âsheâll show you the whole damn thing when itâs over and done with.â
Mingyu huffed, âI thought sheâd have dropped it by now.â
âI donât think she will. Sheâs pretty committed.â
âHm.â He nodded simply in response, kissing his teeth.
Vernon folded his arms, leaning back into the leather seat with the toothpick again sitting in his mouth. âYou got any plans for the summer, then? Doesnât your pal always throw a huge party?â
âYeah, actually. Doing it this year if we can manage. Seungcheolâs parents pretty much spend their entire summer bouncing around all the Great Lakes. Weâre gonna do a co-hosting type deal andâshit, since youâre here, this is really good timing.â Mingyu then looked down at Vernon and lowered his gravelly voice. âI know what your main gig is. What about blow? You sell it?â
A slow but gradual, catlike grin trudged the edges of Vernonâs mouth, to which he pulled out his toothpick and set his elbows onto the table. âLook, canât chop it up here, man. Ask one of your friends for my burner. I can get you to the ski slope, but it costs, obviously.â
âNah, thatâs fine. Itâs justâmy last plug fell through.â
âTough.â
âYeah. Okay, well, I should get going. Iâll follow up with you later. Do you care if Seungcheol knows the number, too?â
âNo,â Vernon shrugged, planting the toothpick into the corner of his mouth and flicking it with his tongue, âjust donât go throwinâ it around. I could only get enough for a couple people, anyway.â
âAll good. Okayâlater, guys.â
Mingyu stepped away from the table with a wave and a flash of his pearled, charming smile, nothing but the mild scent of his fresh and expensive-smelling cologne to swirl through the now vacant space. In true espionage fashion, Wonwoo and Vernon both picked open the slots between the restaurant curtains, cautiously observing the boyâs stride into the parking lot and onto the sidewalk, where he at last disappeared into the warm, sunny afternoon.
Heaving a gigantic exhausted breath, Wonwoo took off his glasses and set them in his lap, massaging deep into his eye sockets.
âYâknow, heâs not that fuckinâ bad,â Vernon commented, âI mean, he scares the shit outta me, but that could have gone worse.â
"Jesus ChristâI canât believe what I just watched.â
His friend laughed, banging his fist excitedly enough on the table to engender the silverware clattering on their plates. âHa! I know, right? DudeâSeungcheol and Mingyu are the kingpins of that fuckinâ university you go to. They can cough up the big bucks for that shit. Just imagine the distribution pay I'm gonna get with them on my rosterâactually, that couldnât have gone better.â
âAnd where are you gonna get it?â Wonwoo pressured, at last settling his glasses back on, clarifying Vernonâs smudged, blurry face.
âWell, let me fuck around and work my magic.â
âI donât want him to use you.â
âPfft. I donât give no fucks about being used,â Vernon cackled, wearing a self-indulgent, luminous smile and continuing to play around with the toothpick while he readied his wallet to pay. âYou know what you should worry about, Glasses? Sweet talkinâ the fuck outta that dudeâs girl and securin' yourself an invite. You probably donât even need to try sweet talkinââshe obviously likes you.â
âNo,â Wonwoo grumbled, âno way.â
âYou donât want to go?â
âWhy would I want to go, dumbass? The last time I went to a party, I ran into you. Theyâre loud and suffocating. Iâll pass.â Wonwoo also pulled out his wallet, taking his card. âBesides, I get the sense Mingyu doesnât trust me a whole lot. Iâm not gonna stir the pot.â
Vernon shook his head. âYou stir the pot every time you hang out with his girl to go write romantic poetry and run around, gigglinâ at Spring Street. Nâyeah, exactly. You met me. I donât get the fuss.â
âItâs nothing like that," Wonwoo answered in frustration.
âYeah, yeah. Youâre a Patron Saint. I just want my Life Saver.â
âMAY 19TH.
Wonwoo was going to your apartment today for the first time, and it had nearly killed him in the process.
His abhorrent sleep schedule hung over his head every single instance he woke up at lunchtime, the entirety of his mornings wasted to weathered heartbreak and its lasting, stained consequences. Needing to be at your apartment for ten had Wonwoo buckling his face into anguished hands the night before, wondering how he was going to pull off such a triumph without wishing for death. Â
He did know one thing for certainâthe sound of his alarm erupting into its timely, strident beeping made him instantly sick. In fact, the first thing Wonwoo did was half-stumble in complete bleariness out from his bed, dragging a white sheet along by his ankle as he burst into the washroom and hung his head over the toilet like he was sweating through a wicked hangover. But it wasnât alcohol. It was months of bad, soul-stitched habit festered up in stomach bile and perhaps, a hatred for himself. It was his own fault, in a way.
And yet, when you texted him a half-hour later to reconfirm your address, Wonwoo replied with not the slightest hint that he was feeling pretty fucking terrible. The headache and shudders followed him down the street, onto the bus, and into the lobby of your notably opulent apartment complex. He felt rather incongruous amongst all the marbleâthe white trim, the clean, untainted air, even the breakfast table with dispensable lemon water and small, fruit-topped pastries that somehow made Wonwoo want to kill himself.
He looked down at his phone.
[ Her | 9:10 am ]: 717 thorton street, unit 61
[ Her | 9:45 am ]: are you almost here? :)
Wonwoo pressed the button to the elevator.
[ Wonwoo | 9:50 am ]: Yes. In the building.
His phone vibrated immediately with a text.
[ Her | 9:50 am ]: Iâm so excited
The doors pulled apart. Wonwoo stepped aside for a couple who were leaving the elevator before he entered. Quickly, he clicked the button to close the doors, not wanting to share the space with anyone but himself and the headache throbbing at the forefront of his cranium. He sighed, glancing at his texts again to reply.
[ Wonwoo | 9:51 am ]: Do you have any Tylenol?
[ Her | 9:51 am ]: most def
[ Her | 9:51 am ]: whatâs wrong?
[ Wonwoo | 9:52 am ]: Nothing much. Just a headache.
When he didnât receive an immediate answer, he assumed you had put the phone down to search your medicine cabinet. Getting off the elevator, Wonwoo proceeded to find the correct apartment. He put his fist up to the door, and then, at the last second, stopped.
There it was againâthe same melting pot of anxiety and butterflies that had bubbled up when you first visited his place.
He supposed the feelings never truly disappeared each time he would see you, and he was beginning to detest it. Why couldnât his body just adapt? Get over it? What purpose did it serve to constantly remind him of his unkempt emotions? It was like the idea of you terrified him more than you as an actual person, because in person, he felt comfort, as crazy as it sounded. So why couldnât his anxiety and security just complete that stupid sliver of a synapse for once?
Knock knock.
After a moment, the handle clicked, and the door to sumptuous unit 61 was pulled open. For the first time, Wonwoo saw your face without any makeup, and it sort of made him stutter in his wordsânot that he was shocked in abhorrence at the contrast, more so the vulnerability behind it, the fact you felt comfortable enough to shed your compulsion with always presenting a perfect, glamoured face. He was pleased to see you were in a fuzzy pair of pink shorts and a white, thin long-sleeve that were basically pyjamas.
Maybe it was weird to think, but you seemed more human.
âYou made good timing. Iâm impressed.â
âThanks,â Wonwoo answered while stepping inside, toeing off his sneakers next to your plethora of shoes at the doormat.
âI would obviously say tour first, but I have your Tylenol sitting on the counter over here, for your headache. Can you dry swallow or do you need water?â
âDry swallow?â Wonwoo laughed, following you toward the kitchen area. âWho the fuck dry swallows any sort of pill?â
âI donât know! Personally, I donât. But there are some freaks out there who do. I was actually testing you. And you passed.â
âLucky me,â he sighed.
Taking a seat at one of stools displayed around the large, granite-surface island, Wonwoo waited for you to pour him some water. Obviously, the apartment was spacious, gorgeousâthe large, white-fluffed rug in the centre of the living room was definitely suited to you, though he was surprised by the tall, lush potted plants aligned by the window panelling. He didnât know you had a green thumb.
While placing down the water, you shifted closely into the seat beside him, and Wonwoo could smell the scent of strawberries on your skin. You let your chin press into the hammock made with your hands, watching as he set the pill on his tongue and gulped it down.
âSo, is it really bad?â
Wonwoo turned the glass back and forth atop its coaster, deciding on whether or not he should tell the truth. It always tended to sting him when he lied, and so he turned to you, shrugging.
âI felt it when I woke up. But itâs manageable.â
âOh, I get that sometimes.â
âItâs because of my repulsive sleep schedule, no doubt.â
You smiled at him, adjusting your leg under the island.
âIs that why you prefer afternoons all the time?â
âPretty much. Itâs a horrible habit. Iâll break it somehow, Iâm sure. Just a stupid hump to get over. Anywayââ Wonwoo slung the laptop bag off his shoulder and onto the counter, ââyour place looks pretty sweet. How are you? Whatâs the plan for today?â
âWell,â you hummed, slapping an arm down onto the reflective granite, âIâve wrote some more this week. Iâd love for you to proofread it. Maybe we can go out for lunch later, but youâd need to give me time to get ready. I mean, I did shower this morningâŚâ
He watched you pause, and then swallow. "You donât care, do you?â
âAbout what?â Wonwoo answered.
âOh, wellânever mind, then.â
âNo, what is it? What donât I care about?â
You started to grin, hiding half your face with a hand that slowly scraped across your cheek, as though to rub off any remaining lethargy from the morning light. Wonwoo waited for you to answer.
â⌠I look like a mole.â
He at last realized what you meant.
âNo, you donât.â
âI was just feeling lazy. I know, gasp, what an insane word to come from my mouth. But Iâm glad you donât care. I didnât think you would, but I still wasnât sure. At least your reaction wasnât obvious. My chin is breaking out so please donât stare at it, if you can help it.â
âOh, well, you know, you lookââ that one banished word almost slipped, but Wonwoo smoothly mended the break, âyouâyou have nothing to worry about. I get breakouts, too. It sucks, but itâs life.â
Your bare, soft face turned cheerful in a fawning smile.
âI know. I guess I'm just not very used to the feeling of people seeing me like this. Did you want to do lunch later?â
Wonwoo leaned back in the small seat, running his hands up his knees, knowing damn well he hadnât eaten breakfast.
âUh, I should probably start with like, cereal or something.â
âYou didnât eat?â
âNo appetite.â
âIâll fix you something. Unfortunately, no cereal. But I'll get some the next time Mingyu and I do groceries. So, what do you like best? Toast? Oatmeal? Scrambled eggs and toast? Orange juice? Bagel?â
At the mere mention of orange juice, his fist clenched. Attempting not to dwell so obviously, Wonwoo straightened up and smiled.
âI like toast.â
âThatâs good. Itâll be easy on your stomach.â
Wonwoo watched you squeeze off the stool and open the fridge to pull out a plastic bag of bread. He watched you stand on your tiptoes to reach into the highest cupboard and grab a plate. He watched you pop open a jar of fresh raspberry jam and slot the bread into the toaster. He could watch you do anything, it seemed.
Anything at all.
It took Wonwoo about half an hour to eat his raspberry toast and skim through the newest additions to your document. You were getting more into the thick of your relationship with Mingyuâjust as youâd warnedâbut Wonwoo was able to gloss most cloying paragraphs without too much bitterness or personal weight clouding his possible critiques. Wonwoo was still seated at the island, meanwhile you were lying face down on the plump-cushioned couch, an arm dangling off the side. In a morbid way, you looked very much dead if not for the shallow rising and dipping of your back.
âDone, for the most part.â
Your head perked up, and he was relieved to see you hadnât fallen asleep or suffocated. âWhen will you add your notes?â
âAfter lunch. Is that okay?â
âMmhm.â
âSoâŚâ Wonwoo slid down in the chair, reaching out his arms with a gigantic yawn, âyou actually snuck into his basketball game?â
âYeah,â you sighed, letting your chin snuggle into the blanket strewn underneath you, âI was obsessed with him. I couldnât help it.â
âI wouldnât expect your first date to be at the nature museum. The way you wrote about the butterfly exhibit was nice, though.â
âIt was fun. Mingyu wasnât the biggest fan, but I had always wanted to go. There was this huge skeleton of a blue whale, and sometimes the museum would play the whaleâs balladââ you flopped onto your back, staring up at the ceiling with a tender, ardent laugh as your fingers twirled the fluffy knots of the throw, ââit used to scare Mingyu so bad. He kept telling me he was gonna leave our date unless we went to another exhibit.â
âThe sound can be pretty jarring if youâve never heard it before, to be fair,â Wonwoo reasoned, now massaging down his legs.
Shoving your body to sit upright on the couch, you poked out your tongue at him, grinning, âdonât defend his loserness.â
He huffed in response, âmy bad.â
âShould we do a tour now? I really want to show you my room. And if I keep lying on the couch, Iâll fall asleep.â
âUh, sure. Do you want me to wash my plate?â
âNo, no, itâs fine. Just leave it in the sink.â
After Wonwoo cleaned off the granite island, he came to join you in the living room, the white rug resembling what he imagined a cloud to feel like underneath his socked feet.
A thought had suddenly popped into his head.
âThereâs a nature museum here, too.â
You grabbed the blanket, wearing it like a shawl around your shoulders. Wonwoo had never seen you so sleepy before.
âI know.â
âHave you ever gone?â
âNo. Not at all. I did ask Mingyu once when we first came here for university. But I think he was still mortified from the whale thing. I dunno. Anyway, is that your round-about way of asking if I ever want to go? Because I would, to help with the story.â
Wonwoo scratched along his collarbone, heated with the itch of being blatantly exposed for his plotting. However, he hadnât suggested the museum with the intention of employing it as a visual to sharpen up your scene-work. He was hoping to go just for the sake of itâlike a palate cleanser, as you had previously mentioned.
But he obviously wasnât going to articulate that.
âWe can plan it more later,â he said.
The tour started in the living room, which Wonwoo had become well acquainted with throughout his half hour of sitting at the kitchen island, occasionally flicking his eyes toward the couch to ensure you were still alive. You explained that the pristine white rug was a housewarming gift from Mingyuâs parents when you first moved into the apartment, and he felt guilty for even stepping on it.
He decided to ask about the plants by the windows.
âOh, I donât actually look after those,â you answered, touching at one of the heavy and balmy-looking green leaves from a plant nearly as tall as you, âSeokmin comes over to water them and stuff, gives them special nutrient foodâeven sprays their leaves with this misty bottle thing. I tried giving them all to him, but he says heâs got no space at his apartmentâwhich is total bull by the way.â
âMaybe he just wants an excuse to see you.â
âYeah,â you scoffed, rolling your eyes, âdoesnât everyone?â
Wonwoo bit back a stupid little smile as he followed you into your bedroomâthe place you seemed most enthralled for him to finally see. You twirled into the open space and threw the blanket off your shoulders, then whipping your hands into the air akin to a magician whoâd just performed the most grandiose magic trick.
âTada! Bedroom reveal!â
He pushed up his glasses, taking a good, solid look around at everything he could: the prestigious makeup vanity with the drawers left half-open, your dresser, lined with photographs of what he assumed to be friends, family, and Mingyu, the beaded, dangling chandelier, the ajar closet doors that revealed your unsurprising magnitude of outfitsâskirts and dresses and professional blazers and lascivious things from threads of lace and silk. He finally looked to your beautiful bed, which you proceeded to flop onto.
âThis is my favourite part,â you hummed.
Taking some further steps into the bedroom, Wonwoo began recognizing smaller details, though he couldnât explain what he was feeling. He always thought a bedroom was such a personal, intimate space, like a treasure chest stuffed with memories and pieces of personâs essence that couldnât be captured using words alone. To sit on someoneâs bed, or sift through their drawers for a pen, or even grab a shirt from their closetâhe felt it was all so⌠sacred. It was the reason he had such a hard time having others in his bedroom.
âThe bed is your favourite?â He wondered.
âYes,â you giggled, a glimmer flashing into your eyes like diamonds in the sun as you climbed onto your knees.
Before Wonwoo knew what was happening, you had clutched a hand into his shirt and jerked him toward the covers. He landed beside you, and his heart thrust with electricity.
âYou could have just asked me to sit,â he chuckled, wiping some wrinkles off his shirt and adjusting his glasses.
âNope.â
âBedâs comfy.â
âDuh,â you sunk backward, smirking at him, âitâs a bed.â
âHey, you should have seen the bed I had growing up in Changwon. My older brother and I, we hated it. Shit was like sleeping on a piece of cardboard. It didnât get better for years.â
Propping your head onto a pillow, you continued to smile prettily at him with those entrancing eyes, and for a second, this piercing fear struck in the core of Wonwooâs chest that he had just spoke about himselfâactually spoke about himselfâin a manner that screamed of vulnerability. He felt terror. Why did he do that?
âHm. I guess Iâm just spoiled, with my memory foam and all.â
At least you didnât push into the topic. You were getting better at that, almost like you could interpret the subtle tweaks in his face or the stiffening of his bones. Wonwoo rested his elbows on his knees.
âYour roomâs nice. It smells like you.â
He heard you giggle, âwhat? Like strawberries?â
Wonwoo pursed his lip, looked down at his fingers. âYeahâŚâ
For a moment, his eyes lingered unfaithfully on your exposed midriff, down to the fluffy hem of those pink lounge shorts. He squeezed his wrist tight, practically stopping his own blood flow, willing himself not to think anything unhinged that would simmer up to fuel his self-hatred later. The longer your head spent sinking into that plump pillow, the more your lids fluttered with sleep. As he continued to gaze about the room, he spotted the pink stuffed bear that heâd won you at the Spring Street Fair, sitting atop your bedside table.
âYouâve still got that?â
âHm?â You pushed up onto your elbows, yawning. âOh, yeah! âCourse I still have her. Itâs a perfect little memento from that night.â
âWell, I did go through a lot of effort to win it.â
âOh, Iâm aware... wanna know what I named her?â
âWhat?â
âMiss Priss.â
Honestly, Wonwoo was surprised you hadnât stuffed it into your closet or abandoned the toy in some innocuous corner of your apartment. Instead the bearâs vibrant pink face and slightly lopsided eyes were staring him down, making him rerun Vernonâs words in his head: âyou stir the pot every time you hang out with his girl to go write romantic poetry and run around, gigglinâ at Spring Street.â
Wonwoo immediately shoved the memory aside, letting the implications sizzle up and burn on the hot coals of his brain.
âHm. Funny.â
You rolled your eyes.
Wonwoo tapped his wrist, thinking.
âSo, uh, I hope you donât mind me asking this, but why donât you live with Mingyu? I know he stays over some nights.â
Lifting yourself up with one arm, you shrugged, opting to stroke a hand along the blanket to smooth out some crinkles. âI donât want to move in with anyone unless Iâm engaged.â
âActually?â
âYeah. I mean, that's what I told my parents, at least. They used to really push for us to have an apartment together. Which makes sense. They freaking love him. I swear, more than me," you laughed, picking at your shirt. "I get it, too. Mingyu and I have pretty much been tied at the hip all these years. But we agreed that we wouldn't live together until things went to the next level. He does keep a lot of his stuff here for when he does stay over, and vice versa. Heâs got an extra key and everything, his own nightstand, bathroom stuff.â
âAnd thatâs for certain?â
You tilted your head. âWhatâs for certain?â
âThe engagement thing. Or was it just to shake off your parents?â
âWell⌠I guess I mean it. Is that weird to you?â
âNo,â Wonwoo said. âI personally haven't heard it plenty.â
âYeah, most people are surprised to learn we donât live together. I guess we really give off the impression that we're together in most things, if not everything. It's good to get a little space, though."
âWell, I understand itâwanting to have your own space. I mean, I think everyone should try living alone, just once if they have to. You learn more about yourself, I suppose.â
You cracked a smile at him. âWhat have you learned?â
Wonwoo chuckled, knowing all the things he could never say were tingling right on the tip of his tongue. âWell, I meant in a general sense. I wasn't exactly talking about myself.â
âHaâyou learned how to be a hermit.â
âI'm pretty sure I was always like that.â
âYeah, but probably not that bad.â
âThat bad?â He furrowed his dark brows at you, staring straight into your eyes that twinkled with challenge. âMeaning what?â
âPlease, you would not leave that apartment if it wasnât for your commitment to the book. Maybe for work, some groceries every now and then. Otherwise, your ass is not leaving.â
âDamn. Just call me a loser.â
âFine,â you huffed, pushing up onto your knees, âloser.â
Wonwoo managed to hold the penetrating, spirited strength of your gaze, and he was proud of himself for doing so, even if his heart felt like it was going to leap into his throat. It was still difficult for him to be routinely engaged in eye contact, but he knew how much you appreciated itâthe feeling of being listened to and experiencing someoneâs dedication to presenting their full attention.
Since it was getting close to lunch time, Wonwoo figured you might want to start thinking of where to eat. He was getting notably hungry, and having to function off some toast coated thinly in raspberry jam wouldnât be enough to power him throughout his proofreading. He pulled out his phone, wanting to check the time, and began sliding off your comfortable, warm bed.
âDid you want toââ
âHey, wait, wait, waitââ Wonwoo felt your hand curl around his bicep in a firm grip and begin to pull him back down, ââbefore we get up and everything, I want to talk to you about something.â
Oh no.
His stomach writhed.
Wonwoo started praying it wasnât about his and Vernonâs encounter with Mingyu at Solar Popânot that anything particularly terrible or concerning had happenedâbut maybe Mingyu had mentioned something to you. Maybe he didnât like Wonwoo and thought it was best you stop writing together, stop seeing each other.
His mind started quivering with a steadfast hurricane of awful thought and Wonwoo knew the flushed colour had most likely drained from his face as quickly as a popped balloon.
Your hand remained on his bicep, squeezing it.
âWhy do you look so worried, already?â You chuckled in a quiet voice, rubbing his arm until Wonwoo visibly relaxed. âI havenât even said anything yet. Unless, you think I should be worried, too.â
âNo.â Wonwoo shook his head. âJustânever mind.â
âHm, well, thatâs kind of what I want to talk about.â
As your hand drifted off his arm, Wonwoo sat crossed-legged, narrowing his eyes at you in question. âWhat do you mean?â
The conversation began with a clunk of silence, to which you glanced down at the bed for a moment, clearly biting on your inner cheek in contemplation. Wonwoo desperately wanted you to spit it out. He hated when empty words hung so burdensomely in the air.
âWell⌠thereâs no easy way to bring it up. And Iâm not sure youâll even want to talk about it with me, but I keep noticing it, again and again. I think itâs at least worth it to put it on the table. And, if itâs not my business, you can freely tell me to screw off.â
âOh⌠okay.â
And then you were looking at him, not with any sort of accusation or anger or even disappointment. Somehow, Wonwoo knew what you were going to say, and he braced himself for it.
âDo you⌠do you have anxiety?â
Wonwoo said nothing. He wasnât sure if it was an issue of not wanting to speak or being unable to.
You breathed out heavily in response.
âOkay, silence, I definitely saw that comingâbut, um, Iâm not stupid, you know? Your face just gets so pale, and I feel like I can see the heartbeat in your chest⌠and you always do that thing with your fist. Clenching it. It always looks so painful but you never seem to care andâanywayâI just⌠I can tell when it happens and it kind of bothers me that you try to like, shrug it off or call it âspacing outâ when itâs really clearly not. And, maybe thatâs my fault.â
His gaze had shifted to lock with yours.
Again, you werenât staring at him with any malice or dejectionâheâd come to learn that your eyes were actually quite soft most of the time, soft but always glittering, like a handful of silk. Still, Wonwoo couldnât yet find his words, which must have come across as remarkably shocking for someone who spent their whole life grabbing all the shiny bits of possible vernacular.
You sat up straighter, touching his knee.
âIs it my fault you donât want to talk about it? Can I at least know that much?â There was an imploring desperation in your face.
Wonwoo at last cleared his throat.
âI donât talk about it with anyone.â
âOkay, I get that. But, did I make you feel like you couldnât bring it up? At all?â Your fingers dug a little harder into his knee, though Wonwoo knew you probably hadnât realized it. âI justâI do want to know, actually. Because sometimes I let myself get in the way of being present for other people. But I care. I honestly do.â
He nodded, cracking his knuckles.
âI mean⌠I definitely wouldnât have thought to bring it up with you. I guess I felt like, if I did, what would it accomplish? You might think Iâm incapable or⌠I donât know.â He shoved his hands underneath his glasses, rubbing at the indents on his nose. âAs you can see, Iâm not the best at talking about it. I donât talk about it.â
You folded your legs in similar fashion to Wonwoo.
âWell⌠um⌠do you⌠is there anyone that could, like⌠I donât know what Iâm saying. I guess, are you coping alright, is what Iâm asking. I really donât mean to overstep. I swear.â
At that, he chuckled quite loudly. Your face twitched in surprise at his reaction, and the hand slipped off his knee.
âIt really doesnât matter. I just deal with it.â
No. He took nothing. He did nothing. Wonwoo just sat and suffered and felt no initiative to help himself. At that point, he really didnât want to dissect the topic any further. He could sense the slithering under his skin, the way his body physically bristled like a perturbed cat at the thought of having to be any more open than what he'd already shared. The choices he made in his life werenât important if he was going to end up back in the same slippery trench.
âOh. Well, I hope you take care of yourself,â you said with a smile, giving his bicep another gentle squeeze. âThatâs all.â
âJUNE 2ND.
About two weeks had passed since Wonwoo visited your apartment. Afterward, you had met up four times to continue writing and making small ventures to places that you deemed vital for developing your story. Wonwoo found himself enjoying most trips.
He remembered the ice cream shop. Apparently, it was the date where Mingyu had officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You had gotten their most popular strawberry cheesecake flavour while Wonwoo ordered mint chocolate chip, which was a rather boring but favourite classic of his. No doubt, you sat across from him on their outside patio the entire time, pitting remarks about how awful his choice was in lieu of writing anything down in your document. With every spoonful he ate, Wonwoo had to keep reminding you to stay focused, and eventually, his repetitious ordering worked.
"Did you actually come here to get any writing done or did you just want the ice cream? We're not palate-cleansing are we?"
"Why can't two things be true at once?"
âCan I see your laptop?â
âNoâhey! Donât try to grab it!â
âWhy? Because youâve written fuck all?â
"For your information, I have a bullet-point list going."
"Oh, yeah. A bullet-point list, hm?"
"Yes. It has all my major writing points. Point number one: Mingyu seats me down at the table. He's clearly nervous. We've only been in the shop for a minute or two and he won't stop brushing his hair behind his ears. Point number two: Mingyu grabs our ice cream from the counter. He gives me his flavour, rocky road, by accident, and then we awkwardly laugh and switch. Point number three: I remember thinking his nerves were endearing, andâ"
"Okay, okay. I get it."
"Exactly. Let this be a lesson in poor assumption. Don't try to assume anything about me, Wonwoo. It's probably wrong."
And then there had been the journey to Mooneyâs Bay, one of the most well-known beaches outside the cityâprobably because the lake actually looked a clean, salty blue and the soft sand wasnât littered with drifting pieces of plastic. It had been the first place Wonwoo took his brother when he came to visit from his office in Korea, and the picture they had taken together with their pant legs cuffed up, standing knee deep in the water, was still pinned to the corkboard in Wonwooâs bedroom. However, Wonwoo hadnât been back to the beach since, until you dragged him there in an hour-long car ride. He had mostly looked out the window, thinking, as always.
You said that Mooneyâs Bay reminded you of a cove from your hometown, a more clandestine one, where you and Mingyu used to splash around in the isolated, iridescent waters at night, laughing into the chilled breeze and coughing up all the liquid splatted into the otherâs face. Wonwoo had used the video camera to record some footage of the beach per your request. By evening, most people had packed up their coolers and umbrellas and sun towels, granting him more freedom to film wider, panned shots. He remembered standing at the foam shoreline, feeling the sand squelch wetly under his bare feet, recording you wading further and deeper into the water that reflected like a bleeding, scarlet portrait of stained glass.
âIt feels amazing! You should come in!â
âI canât. Itâll ruin the camcorder.â
âSo put it down! In the bag! Thereâs enough footage.â
âBut the sun is setting behind you. It makes for a good shot.â
"So just hurry up! The water is the perfect temperature."
"Butâ"
âIâm not asking you. Iâm telling you.â
"Well, I don't know... I, uhâI can't swim."
"This isn't swimming, this is wading. Just go up to your knees. It's been a hot, long day. I think this will help get the scowl off your face."
â⌠Fine. At least give me a second to fix my pants.â
The third location, while not his favourite, had been an open bar that was conveniently placed a few streets over from his job at the pharmacy. Wonwoo had went there a number of times with Vernon in the past, usually after he finished a midterm or handed in some grating assignment, though Vernon tended to drink more than his body could sufficiently handle. By the end of the night, Wonwoo would most often find himself being a mediator between his tattooed, foul-mouthed friend and whatever blundering, equally drunk idiot he happened to be arguing with.
It was too much for his anxiety.
Nonetheless, heâd met you there after work despite the churning cauldron of memories that he harboured, unsurprised to find you seated at a small table swarmed with dewy drinks and shots that interested observers had sent over. Wonwoo felt each digging, plying stare that sculpted against his back as he sat beside youâhe even choked down one of your retched tequila shots (while not the best idea), hoping it would mellow him out.
You never really explained why the bar was pertinent to your history with Mingyuâor, maybe you had, and Wonwoo was simply one flaming shot past coherent of properly digesting your words. He did, however, remember your entire, almost scientific explanation of why you liked wearing low-cut or heavily revealing tops at the bar, and Wonwoo had listened along as best he could manage, even when that floating sensation started hazing through his mind. At one point, this girl who Wonwoo had never encountered once in his life came up to him with a polite tap on his shoulder and an inquiring smile.
âHeyâsorry to intrudeâand this may be a super dumb question, but you are guys together?â
âNo, no. Not at all. Iâve got a boyfriend. Heâs single.â
âOh, perfect. I was justâI was sitting over there, in the corner with my friends, if you can see. AnywaysâI said something dumb about how you were really good looking, and now Iâve been dared to come up and ask for your number. So, um, yeahâŚâ
âNo, Iâm good. Thank you.â
âO-Oh. Wait⌠are you⌠being serious?â
âYes.â
âOh. Sorry. This is really fucking embarrassing⌠uh, I guess I wonât linger then. Bye.â
â⌠Jeez⌠had a bit much to drink or something?â
âNoâjust donât like giving out my number to strangers.â
âShe was cute, though. Probably a fun one-night stand.â
âThen you have sex with her, yeah?â
âHa! Youâre so funny. Whenâs the last time you even had sex? I mean, you obviously pull. At least, I think you doâŚâ
âI donât remember. Months and months ago, I guess.â
âWow! Zero play. I kind of respect it. I could never, though. So⌠actually, let me guess: youâre the type of person that canât have sex without attachment? You need to be in love?â
âWhatâs it to you?â
âIâm just asking.â
âI donât know.â
âGod. Youâre so fucking boring, Wonwoo.â
âBecause I donât go out of my way to find some pretty girl to have sex with every week, Iâm boring? How does that make sense?â
âNo, not that. I mean the fact you never really want to discuss anything about yourself. Honestly, sometimes talking to you is like pulling teeth, yâknow? Anyway, move back a little. Backwards cap with the earrings has been staring on and off for the last ten minutes and I want one more free shot before I call it a night.â
The most recent place you had been together was the popular drive-in at Richmondâs Farm. Wonwoo knew that in the autumn months leading up to Halloween, the venue was turned into a haunted carnival with all the typical attractions: pumpkin patches, horror movie screenings, corn mazes, and masked, fake blood-spattered psychopaths chasing people around with a roaring chainsaw.
Seokmin, despite being quite weak-stomached and completely disastrous when it came to anything horror-related, had actually implored Wonwoo to go the year before after hearing the raves about their newest House of Nightmares, although Wonwoo declined in order to study for a test.
Really, there was no test.
Wonwoo just hadnât been in the mood for losing all his hair and being crammed into pitch black, narrow corridors with a murderer promptly waiting around the corner. He hoped Seokmin wouldnât ask him again this yearâthen his excuse would be obvious.
In the spring and summer, however, the farm mostly broadcast screenings at their drive-in theatre behind the maize field, and you had leaped at the opportunity to go because it was the perfect chance to relive one of your favourite dates with Mingyu. By your explanation, heâd taken you to see Crazy, Stupid, Love before you two had departed your hometown for university. But the drive-in obviously wasnât playing that movie, and so you two had to settle for watching their only available screening, 500 Days of Summer.
Wonwoo hated that movie.
Of course, he hadnât told you that.
Before the movie had started, Wonwoo helped you throw down a blanket into your trunk alongside some couch pillows that you grabbed from your apartment, creating a makeshift lounge in the rear of the car. Since the screening was late at nightâand way past your typical good girl bedtimeâyou were worried about falling asleep halfway into the movie, though Wonwoo promised he would keep an eye on you to ensure you wouldnât miss anything important.
Since it was too dark to film anything of quality on the camcorder, Wonwoo left you alone in the blanket-pillow trunk to scribble down any nostalgic, limerent sentiments while he grabbed some snacks. You had told him to get gummy bears, because you hated the way broken pieces of popcorn kernel shells would sliver between your teeth and dig into your gums, neither did you want a soft drink since it would be an abundance of sugar before bed, and it always resulted in a breakout the next morning. He was able to make it back to the car just before the screening started.
He remembered how strange it all seemed, sitting so close to you underneath the blanket, occasionally feeling your elbow dig into his arm or your knee bump his thigh, and the sharp blip it would cause in his pulse. Wonwoo remembered how often you complained about the temperature throughout the movieâfirst, itâs too hot, now, itâs too cold, youâre too close to me, youâre too far away and Iâm cold again, I need the blanket, I donât want the blanketâWonwoo hadnât realized a personâs body temperature could fluctuate that drastically.Â
However, the worst part of that night happened about half an hour before the movie ended, just when Wonwoo was beginning to feel relieved about going home. You were getting sleepier by the minute, and Wonwoo could tell from the yawning every now and then, wanting desperately to rub at your eyes but refusing because it would smother the mascara into somewhat concerning, black whorls.
You had nudged his arm, and when he glanced over at your face, exhausted and half-illuminated under the watery, bright cast of light from the screen, you asked him in a quiet, dulcet voice: âis it okay if I rest my head on your shoulder for a few minutes?â
Wonwoo had wanted to say noâof course you canât, because if you do, I will sit here stiff, and hardly breathing, and listening only to my own heartbeat. It will be the sole thing Iâll think about for the next three days no matter what I do to mask the memory. Iâll keep thinking about it until you burn out in my mind like a star.
But then Wonwoo had agreed instead.
He proceeded to clench his fist upon feeling the weight of your head sink softly to his shoulder. Your legs had been curled up underneath you, and your knees were then pressing flush against his leg. Every breath he inhaled was faintly tainted with the scent of your sweet, fragrant shampoo and it was fucking killing him.
âYouâre so tense,â you had whispered in a giggle, âif it makes you uncomfortable, I donât have to. Itâs just because Iâm tired.â
âNoââ it had come out somewhat like a blurt, and Wonwoo just knew the tips of his ears were tingling red, ââitâs okay. I promise.â
âYou sure?â
âIâm sure⌠what?â
âJust wanted to look in your eyes when you said it.â
âFuck, not that again.â
âI have to know!â
âOkay, thatâs fine. Movieâs almost over, anyway. Just donât fall asleep because then I really wonât know what to do.â
That had been four days ago.
Now, it was almost midnight. Wonwoo was sitting on the roof of his apartment with a messily rolled up blunt in his fingersâthe second one he prepared, mostly out of impatienceâdrawing in a slow and deep breath that ghosted from his lips like wispy fog flowing down a shallow hill. He then coughed twice by his elbow, attempting to clear the stinging prickle that caught against his throat.
âYouâre so fucking full of it,â Wonwoo laughed.
âNo! Iâm not.â
âYou did not write thirty pages in a day.â
âUhâactually, I did! And the fact you donât believe me is a testament to your own wilted motivation. I am very motivated.â
He smiled at the sound of your voice crackling through his phone, which heâd been holding with the latter hand. Breathing in another hit, Wonwoo pulled at the sides of his black beanie, grinning through the thin cloud that was exhaled in a quick, neat puff.
âOkay, you wrote thirty pages. Didnât have to fucking drag my career through the mud in doing so. I mean, I guess itâs a hobby.â
âFor all I know, youâre the biggest poser that ever posed.â
âYeah?â
âYes. I still donât know what you write about.â
âI told you.â
âNoâyou fucking didnât. You said something vague and ambiguous that could have meant literally anything. All I had to go off were some sing-songy praises from Seokmin.â
âI give you pretty good notes, though.â
âYeah, whatever.â
âSo I must be decent.â
âI donât even know why I bothered calling you. I was supposed to be in bed, like, an hour ago. Youâre such a distraction.â
âFuck,â Wonwoo laughed, tapping the warm blunt to knock off a clump of papery ash, âitâs been an hour already?â
âYes.â
âWell, I donât know why you called either.â
âTo complain about that lady whose makeup I had to do today! She was horrible. God, were you not listening?!â
âNo, no, I was. She told you the makeup she wanted, you said it wouldnât suit her too well, and then she got all pissed off when it looked exactly how you said it would. Thatâs not what I meant.â
âOh. Well⌠I just thought you should know about it.â
âMmhm.â
Silence followed his velvet, almost teasing hum, but Wonwoo didnât mind it, and he assumed you didnât either. Your phone call had been completely out of the blue, only a few minutes after heâd climbed onto the roof and started sparking his lighter. An hour had already passedâWonwoo couldnât believe it. Time had never seemed so blurred and insignificant before, like tomorrow didnât exist at all.
âI didnât know you smoked.â
Wonwoo repositioned the phone in his hand.
âFrom time to time, yeah.â
âWhat strain?â
âNorthern Lights.â
âIâve never had that one. I mean, Iâm not much of a stoner, and neither is Mingyu. I donât like the way it feels in my throatâthat dry, burning feeling. And I hate the cotton mouth afterward.â
âShouldnât be that bad if youâre inhaling it right.â
âWell, maybe you can teach me one day.â
He let the blunt hang from the corner of his mouth for a moment, a very fluttery-feeling smile taking shape. Not wanting you to hear that slight bit of giddiness in his tone, Wonwoo took another hit, holding the smoke in for longer than usual before exhaling.
âDo you, uh⌠do you still want to go to that museum?â
âOhâthe nature museum?â
âYeah.â
âIâll have to do some poking around in my schedule. I have this stupid leadership council meeting for SSA that I have to go to.â
âThatâs fine. Text me when you figure it out.â
âOkay⌠gosh, itâs really fucking late.â
âYeah, you should get some sleep.â
âAre you pushing me off the phone? If anything, I should be the one pushing. Youâre not doing anything to fix your terrible sleep schedule. And I certainly donât want you to ruin mine.â
âThatâs what Iâm sayingâyou need to get some sleep.â
âWell, you shouldnât have said it like that.â
âHow did I say it?â
âLike you were pushing me off the phone!â
âOkay, okay. Iâm sorry. How âbout this: I know how important structure is to you, and I am deeply concerned that this late night conversation weâre having may somewhat affect your sleep. And while Iâve thoroughly enjoyed talking to you and hearing your pretty voice through my shitty phone speaker, I think we should both go to bed.â
âThat seems fair.â
âGreat. So, goodnight then.â
âNo! I want to be the first one to say goodnight.â
âWhy?â
âBecause, I say goodnight, then you say goodnight back, and then I get to be the one who hangs up first. Itâs a courtesy thing.â
âUh, okay then... Iâm listening.â
âGoodnight!â
Wonwoo smiled. He smiled so fucking widely and brightly that he could feel the muscles in his face aching.
âGoodnight.â
âJUNE 7TH.
Since the quickest route to the nature museum was about half an hour from Wonwooâs apartment, he suggested that you stop by around lunch time so that you two could make the walk together. It wasnât too warm outsideâthe large smattering of clouds dotted in the sky and the typical city breeze helped to keep the temperature down.
âWeâre not allowed to film in the museum,â you said from your seat at his small dinner table, âso donât bother taking the camcorder, I guess. Iâll just try to soak up everything as best I can.â
Wonwoo was sat across from you, waiting for you to finish the heated-up carton box of creamy mushroom pasta that youâd raided out his freezer. Heâd tried his best to eat beforehand as well, but the most he could stomach was some milk and cereal in addition a handful of blueberries. It was still better than his usual routine, which involved skipping any sort of meal post lunchtime.
âIf you really needed to, Iâm sure you could take a couple pictures,â Wonwoo answered, brushing a hand through his styled, pristine black hair that you had earlier littered with a flustering spiel of compliments. âI doubt the exhibits will be exactly the same, but if it's more so to capture the feeling, then it wonât matter much.â
You patted the corner of your mouth upon finishing the last few noodles left in the box, nodding your head in agreement.
âMy journalâs in my bag. It should be fine.â
Wonwoo flipped over his phone to check the time.
âHow was the SSA meeting yesterday?â
âOhâI didnât go.â
âReally?â Wonwoo asked while settling back in his chair, watching you toss the fork into the carton. âHow come?â
âBecause, itâs mostly pointless. We always sit there, in front of all those old, crusty men, trying to explain to them how we can improve the campus, the student experience, blah blah. And they act like theyâre legitimately consuming our input, using phrases like: âoh, we hear you, we understand, weâre gonna try our hardestââjust for them to put, what? Another fucking seating area in the dining hall that no one asked for or cares about? Itâs totally ridiculous.â
âHm, yeah.â
âAnyways, I hate being on it. I hate going. I understand it looks good and whatnot, but itâs a huge waste of my time.â
Wonwoo picked up the pasta box, continuing to hum his agreement while taking it into the kitchen. He dropped the fork into the sink and folded up the cardboard to stuff into his recycling.
âItâs one meeting. A skip wonât kill you, or them.â
âThatâs what Iâm saying. Mingyu thinks I went, though. So, if you run into him or something and the topic fucking miraculously pops upâjust donât give anything away. Itâs a little white lie.â
Coming back to the dining table, Wonwoo snatched up his wallet and shoved it into his back pocket, raising an eyebrow.
âWhy wouldnât you tell him?â
You pushed back in the chair, sighing heavily.
âHe really thinks I should stick with it.â
Wonwoo didnât say anything in response. He simply nodded, not wanting to hover on Mingyu as a conversation piece for too long, and waited for you to shoulder on your purse.
âOkay,â you then smiled, âletâs go look at some nature.â
Despite their boring, lacklustre reputation, Wonwoo had always enjoyed going to museumsâart, history, scienceâheâd even been to a museum that delved into ancient coin minting and the development of currency. He supposed it was his appreciation for learning new information of his own free will, unlike the fast-paced, passion-draining, wringer system that was university. Furthermore, he was surprised that you would share his interest in the matter.
âWhy wouldnât I like museums?â You had stopped just before the acclaimed beetle species wall, aglow behind a glass sheet. âI wrote in my draft that Mingyu and I went to a nature museum, remember?â
âI know. Iâm just surprised you have that much of an interest in them. Your life seems so upbeat. I didnât think you would be into something that most people find fairly dry and anticlimactic.â
âRight.â Twirling back around, you continued walking down the corridor, your eyes tracing the organized arrangement of lustre-shelled beetles. âBecause everyone else is too stupid and youâre the true upper echelon who actually possesses the mental capability required to appreciate something as seemingly trivial but totally enriching asâŚâ you then paused at the glass, squinting to read the embossed label below an oblong-shaped beetle with an iridescent green shell, â⌠as the Chrysochroa Fulgidissima? I donât know, something like thatâalso known as the Jewel Beetle. Its species is native to Japan and Korea. Itâs a⌠woodboring beetle?â
âWhy would I know?â Wonwoo laughed, coming to stand beside you and look at the plaque settled to the white background behind the display glass. âYouâre the one reading it.â
âUghâdoesnât matter. I was going somewhere with my speech and now I forget⌠oh, yeah! So, you think youâre smarter than me?â
Placing a gentle hand on your lower back, Wonwoo urged you to keep walking forward in order to let the people faintly mumbling behind you examine the wall, who seemed much more interested.
âI never said that,â he answered softly.
âOkayâbut, do you think youâre smarter?â
âIn what sense?â
âDid you take the Frontiers evaluation for calculus?â
âYes.â
âWhatâd you score?â
â9.8.â
âShut the fuck up! No you didnât.â
Wonwoo merely tapped the black-framed glasses further up his nose, smirking slightly, and began shaking his head while continuing down the exhibit. You hurried after him, remembering to lower your voice to match the collective quietness.
âProve it,â you whispered.
âGo to prof Bradbrookâs office. My nameâs on her wall.â
âI hate you.â
âWhy? What did you score?â
âIâm obviously not going to say it now.â
Wonwoo still remembered the day his test score came backâheâd opened the envelope in Miss Bradbrookâs office, and while she sat across from him, practically squirming and jittering with anticipation, Wonwoo had glossed over the paper slip with the smallest, most low effort smile. He knew he was supposed to feel relieved in that momentâoverjoyed probablyâto realize his notable success and the upstanding conformation he was legitimately good at something. But in truth, he hadnât really felt anything at all. He sort of just smiled. That was it. That was all he could muster.
And his life had mirrored that moment ever since. In the past, it would come and go. Yet, that day, it just stuck. The only time he ever experienced any glint or sparkle of happiness, it had come from his girlfriendâbut even she couldnât imbue much from him that day.
âWell, thatâs not what I expected you to ask.â
You glanced over at him, adjusting the bag on your arm.
âMeaning?â
âThere are different types of intelligence. I thought you meant, in a more general sense, am I smarter, or more knowledgeable. To be honest, I canât say. I mean, I feel like Iâve experienced and seen a whole lot, but thatâs just lifeâs illusion.â
âYou wonât really know âtil youâre on your death bed.â
Wonwoo returned your glance, squinching his brown eyes in a judgemental but innocuous way that gave bloom to his smile.
âThanks.â
âI canât help it. Museums make me think of death. I think itâs the really cold, still air. Especially in nature museums where they need to preserve things. Like, look at that fox. Itâs a bit ominous.â
On the exhibit to his right, Wonwoo observed another display protected by glass. There was a fox, with a rusty, auburn coloured coat, poised atop a fake precipice of grass. Wonwoo knew what you meantâit was the eyes, like two leaf green beads, so immensely detailed but lifeless to an almost uncomfortable degree.
âI want to see the aquarium exhibit next,â you said, tugging twice at Wonwooâs sleeve. âI heard itâs really dark in there.â
âWell, we can go take a look.â
âAnd we can eat afterward? Thereâs an atrium.â
âSure.â
Wonwoo let your arm link with his, following the natural flow of museum-goers into the next exhibit, leaving behind the shiny, colourful wall of beetles and the auburn fox in its lonesome enclosure.
The aquarium exhibit was one of the most spacious in the entire museum, placed in a large, dome-topped room, with shadows creeping at every corner. There were some lightsâdeep, blue lights that rippled and wriggled across the floor, like waves patterned against ocean sand by the sun rays. He didn't know from where, but he could hear water sloshing, a very soft sound that led him to imagine the wet sand squelching under his toes.
You approached another display wall, filled with a school of lemon-yellow and azure coloured fish placed around vibrant, unique corals.
While you busied yourself with reading the informative plaque, Wonwoo spent his time taking a more in-depth inspection around the mystifying exhibit. He noted the stingrays and luminous jellyfish flocking above his head, held on near-invisible little wires that would occasionally glimmer if they twisted the perfect angle.
After a generously long venture throughout the room, reading all the plaques and pointing to different fish behind the glass just to comment, âI think that was in Finding Nemo,â you had wanted to sit down, spotting a bench positioned before an aquarium.
Wonwoo agreed, and you collapsed on the bench together.
There was a period of comfortable silence where you both watched the aquarium, meanwhile the dappling, blue pattern cast to the floor danced and flickered around at your still feet. The atmosphere seemed so vivid that Wonwoo was surprised the next breath he took wasnât a mouthful of liquid and sea salt, or that his body wasnât miraculously suspended and floating about in the echoey shadows.
And thatâs when Wonwoo decided he liked the aquatic exhibit very muchâmore than all the others.
He looked down at the hands folded in his lap, specifically at the scarred, ruined cuticle belonging to his right thumb and how it had withstood years of his anxious scratching. Wonwoo then breathed out softly, feeling his heartbeat begin to pick up.
âWant to know something?â He asked.
You stared back at Wonwoo with an intrigued pique of your brow.
âLike what?â
âWell, first of all, we both took creative writing, you know.â
"Uh, okay," you sniffed, "sure."
"No, like, we took the course together. In the fall. Prof T?"
"Really?" You pinned him down in a non-believing stare. "Wait, you're talking about that basement auditorium, right? In Gildan Hall? It always smelt like old computers and dust bunnies?"
"That's the one."
Scoffing out some dry air, you leaned back.
"Woah. I don't think I ever saw you... did you go to each class?"
He nodded a few times. "Almost all. To be fair, I sat more in the back, off to the corner. I wasn't exactly thrusting myself into the limelight."
Folding one leg over your knee, you chuckled. "Sounds like you."
âI have this really specific memory from that class, when that random guy, whoever he was, sat in the seat you always took. Your so called unofficially-assigned-assigned-seat. And I remember that really tense feeling right before you walked in, because we all knew you were gonna chew him out for it. The way you marched straight up to him was already violating enough, and then you basically ruined his whole day.â Looking down at his hands again, Wonwoo smiled at recalling the memory. âYou absolutely terrified me. I donât even think you understand how much I wanted to avoid you.â
He caught your eyes, shimmering like the water-stained floor, with an emotion he couldnât place.
âActually?â Was all you said, hardly sounding surprised.
âYeah.â
Your face began searching around the shadowed, sloshing exhibit for something unseen. He decided to let the silence settle like a thin sheet, instead listening to the tidal pushing and pulling. The soft sounds reminded him of being a child, wandering beaches into the late evening with his older brother during summer vacations, and picking up shells just to hear the ocean speaking inside them.
Aloud, you breathed in, shaking your foot.
âI canât really remember what was going through my head that day. I know Iâd had a fight with Mingyu before going to class, so I was feeling pretty amped up and short-fused. I knew I was going straight to another SSA meeting that I hardly cared about immediately after, and then I would work until the evening. I knew I would have to make dinner when I got home, even though Iâd be downright exhausted, and the next morning, Iâd have to wake up early to attend some bullshit press, social, interview breakfast thing for my momâs new lifestyle magazine. Having that idiot sit in my favourite seat was probably just the straw that broke the camelâs back, I guess.â
âHm,â Wonwoo hummed, suddenly experiencing a profound sympathy for you that he never imagined he would feel. âWhen you give it a bit more perspective, it doesnât sound soâŚâ
âCompletely and utterly bitchy?â
âWell, I wasnât going to use that word, but, sure.â
You grinned at him through the dusky rippling of auroras that flitted across the exhibit, seeming like you were under the seaâand he was, too, sitting side by side in the somehow peaceful depths of the chaotic whirlpool that had pulled you two together.
âI have a memory.â
âOkay,â Wonwoo returned your grin, âI want to hear it.â
âSo, remember earlier how we were talking about the Frontiers evaluation for Bradbrookâs calculus class?â
âMmhm.â
"So, after all the Frontiers scores came out, I'm not gonna lieâI really thought I had one of the better marks. It's not like I specifically trotted around, throwing out my grade to anyone passing by, but I was parading a little bit to my friends. And then, like, Clara or something, told me that there was this guy who almost got a ten. I asked her who, and she said she didn't knowâjust that she overheard some of the basketball guys talking about it.
I thought she was lying. I didn't say that, though. But I remember it was on my mind every night. Like, it was itching me so bad. I wanted to know who the fuck was smart enough to get a damn near perfect ten on Frontiers. Some of those problems are ridiculously hard. I started writing nonsense around A-block. They straight up give students problems that serious, esteemed mathematicians can't fucking solve. So, honestly... I was quite jealous of you... despite not even knowing who you were. I can't believe that was you, asshole."
Wonwoo cracked his knuckles, beginning to laugh at that intense but lighthearted glare you were sending his way. Of course, you mellowed everything out with a big smile he felt his heart skip a beat over. You had actually went to bed thinking about him.
Holy fuck.
Maybe not him in physicality. But in spirit.
That was close enough.
"I just did the study guide." He shrugged.
Your knee pushed into his. "Oh, yeah, the study guide. Jeez, why didn't I think of doing that? Let me go kill myself right now."
"Keep tabs on it for next time."
With a roll of the eyes, you laughed almost to scorn him.
âI hate people like you.â
And Wonwoo laughed back. âMeaning?â
âThings come to you so naturally. You donât have to try.â
âSure,â Wonwoo agreed, scratching his nose and proceeding to nudge up his glasses, âthings like mathematics, numbers, problem solving, taking something whole apart and then looking at its pieces. I guess it does come to me naturally. I canât complain. But there are also plenty of things that donât. And⌠if I could, Iâd probably trade all my stupid math and logic and puzzling for what Iâm missing.â
You tilted your head, staring intently at Wonwoo through the blue sea between you, almost into his brain, it felt like.
âWhat are you missing?â
At first, Wonwoo didnât respond. To answer your question meant an intimate exhumation of the flaws that heâd been willfully ignoring for the past year, if not his entire damn life. It meant at last turning over the round, flat rock that had been sitting at the foot of his wooden porch since childhood, and realizing the bottom was sculpted with the grittiest texture and wet with the thickest dirt. The rock was hiding long-legged spiders and ugly, skittering bugs and it would have probably been better to let the rock sit there, untouched, only facing the warm and comfortable glow of the sun.
Wonwoo didnât want to turn the rock.
Not at all.
âA plethora of things, Iâm sure.â
Squeezing onto your wrist, you smiled at him.
âI think Iâm the opposite.â
âHow so?â
He watched you inhale a long, slow breath, and then huff it all out through your nose. Wonwoo bumped his knee against yours.
âYou donât have to talk about anything you donât want to.â
âNo, no. Itâs not like thatâŚâ
Looking up to the glowing aquarium, the dull light reflected back unto your face, and Wonwoo again saw the glisten in your eyes.
âI just feelâŚâ for a moment, your chest stilled, â⌠I feel like Iâm so much of everything that I just blend into nothing. You know, like when a child takes a whole bunch of paints and squirts them all together thinking itâs going to create this beautiful, never-before-seen new colour? But, instead, itâs just greyish-brownish, nothing.â
Your face turned back to him. Wonwoo watched you chew down on your bottom lip, meanwhile your eyes glazed aloof, off to the side, as though you were rummaging through so many different thoughts and experiences that it required your utmost mental focus.
âAndââ you swallowed tightly, and it sounded so painfully dry with stinging emotion, ââI just donât want people to see that Iâm so much of nothing. I just find myself covering it all up.â
Were you going to cry? Wonwoo felt himself jolt inwardly with panic. He had never seen you cry and he had therefore never developed the best protocol to tackle such a situation. Some people preferred immediate comfort, othersâa reassuring stroke on the back, maybe some uplifting monologue. Or, maybe, they didnât want to be touched at all. They just desired the simple, thinking silence and all its clarity. He remembered you saying something about itâthat you did like to be comforted, but only in very certain circumstances.
First, Wonwoo subtly wiped off his hand against his thigh, and then he took in the softest breath. Through the flickering, midnight blue mirage, Wonwoo reached for your hand. He settled his cold fingers inch by inch under yours, and, with a timid but gentle thumb, Wonwoo caressed in a slow path along your knuckles.
You glanced to him appreciatively, saying nothing, but squeezing his hand in return. He figured heâd done right.
Maybe more things came to him naturally than he thought.
Before leaving the nature museum, you and Wonwoo had stopped at their atrium as promised to get in a quick meal. While you poked a fork into your sad-looking salad, making small scribbles every now and then to the journal at your elbow, Wonwoo ate a grill-pressed sandwich and flicked through his phone. He was surprised to check the time and realize you had spent about three hours thereâit felt so much shorter. Wonwoo hated how quickly each moment flew past when he was with you. It was always so bittersweet.
He had wanted to know what exactly you were penciling in the journal, though he never asked, knowing he would probably be proofreading it from your document later. Obviously, you were thinking about that particular date with Mingyu from years back in your lifeâthat was the principal point in going to the museum. However, Wonwoo had chosen to regard it more as hanging out, not caring if that was a particularly delusional or untruthful choice.
After finishing your meals and tossing the plastic remnants into the recycling bins, Wonwoo looked outside the atriumâs towering glass wall to note how cloudy the sky had become. From the bright, eggshell turquoise in the afternoon, to an especially muted grey that seemed brewing and heavy with a downpour. You adjusted the bag over your shoulder and suddenly grimaced at the sight.
âJeez, is it going to rain?â
âIt could,â Wonwoo sighed. âIt very possibly could.â
âI swear. I obsessively check the forecast in order to plan all my outfits around it. It never said it would rain!â You then threw the bottle of iced tea youâd been drinking into the garbage with an aggressive slam. âThis shirt is a horrible choice. It will be stupidly see-through."
Wonwoo glanced around the atrium.
âThereâs lots of empty tables. If we want to sit and wait it out, then I donât think anyone would get mad. But, I mean, itâs up to you.â
âWhyâs it up to me?â
âI donât know. Justâif you donât want to get your outfit all soaked. Iâm sure if we left now, we could make good distance before it really started raining. Iâm not opposed to getting a little wet. But I have no issue with staying here and letting the clouds go over.â
You folded your arms, and your head fell to the side. Heâd seen that look before. It was your own patented prelude to disaster.
âI never said I was opposed to getting wet.â
He laughed. âWell, you certainly insinuated it.â
âDo you think I'm some sort of whiny little priss?â
"I think you named your bear Miss Priss."
"I think you're a smart ass. Take that smirk off your face. Now."
Wonwoo wanted to sigh, but he didnât. He then thought about trying to tenderly explain his way out of it with his smooth words. As much as he would think heâd figured you out, there was still a part of him that was very confused by you and how to adjust to your behaviour.
This time, he decided he would do nothing.
âOkay. Letâs go, then.â
He reached out his hand for you to grab.
âAs if,â you scoffed, walking around him toward the exit doorway, into the museum garden, ânot after you just insulted me.â
Wonwoo could do nothing but laugh in response, because he had caught that faint smile on your face as you passed him, and the sweet beading in your eyes. He simply followed you out the doors.
During the walk back to his apartment, it had yet to rain at all, not even a typical, humid summer drizzle or the smallest bit of spitting. Maybe it was just way more cloudy than usual, or it was a concerning spread of city smog tainting the sky. Itâs not like he wanted it to rain, anyway, though more so for your sake than his.
About a little more than halfway through the walk, however, you came to an abrupt stop outside a flower shop, and Wonwoo watched you lift a doubtful hand to your cheek and wipe something off it. Before you could say anything, Wonwoo felt a big, cold, wet drop smack just above his eyebrow and begin leaking down. He used the sleeve of his shirt to clean it up, only to experience another fat droplet strike a second later, right onto his glasses.
âYou canât be seriousâŚâ he heard you mumble.
Making the mistake of looking up, more and more droplets fell swiftly from the daunting, dark grey blanket strewn across the entire skylight. They began painting all over the sidewalk, the roadway, shaking down into the brilliant purple and white petunia pots outside the florist shop. And Wonwoo froze for a moment, because he honestly hadnât expected to be caught in the rain, let alone the downpour it was unfortunately shaping up to be.
âOw!â You winced sharply. âOne just fucking hit my eyeball!â
âShitâletâs hurry.â Wonwoo hid his phone. âMy apartmentâs only like, ten minutes away, less if we run really fast.â
âRun?!â You gawked at him. âI donât run!â
âNo, you fucking sashay, I get it.â In a matter of seconds, those intermittent raindrops had evolved into an unrelenting, bathing barrage. Wonwoo could feel his clothes beginning to dampen, and his glasses were streaming with water. He slapped his hand onto yours, jerking you forward despite your stiltedness. âAnd Iâm so sorry but youâre going to have to sacrifice one part of your pretty fucking princess routine for just five minutes so we can get back to my place.â
âMy pretty fucking whaâ!â
Once Wonwooâs fingers were clasped tight with yours, he started to run, and whether it was voluntary or not, you ran along with him, shouting something that he couldnât quite hear over the rain that bounced in loud splatters against the sidewalk and the adrenaline echoing in his own ears. He could hardly see through the downpour, but heâd walked that path so many times that it almost wasnât necessary. At one point, heâd stepped onto the street prematurely, and he heard the loud, startled honk from a car.
âJesus Christ, Wonwoo!â You half-laughed, half-coughed, clutching onto his slippery hand even tighter, âIâd ideally like to live!â
âWeâre almost there!â He chuckled back.
âI think Iâm going to lose my fucking shoe!â
âIâll buy you a new pair!â
Wonwoo didnât stop, and you didnât either. He was soaked to his bones, with thick, drizzling fronds of hair plastered to his forehead and the glasses nearly slipping from his noseâthe scent of earthy but ashen rain all around himâand still Wonwoo kept running, a very blithe smile permanent to his mouth despite all his discomfort.
Upon reaching the entryway to the pottery shop, Wonwoo almost skidded completely past it since the sidewalk was so slick and pouring like an angry river. You slammed into his back, and it was then that your hands unintentionally separated. Instead, he felt your fingers flesh into the sopping cloth covering his shoulders.
âBe careful on the steps!â He shouted overtop a reverberating crack of thunder that shook from behind the grey sleet sky.
âIf I slip, Iâm pulling you down with me!â
Wonwoo was pleased to hear the equally bright smile that bled into your words, meanwhile your fingertips dug even deeper into his muscle. Once inside the shop, a gust of wind proceeded to blow the door shut, and all Wonwoo heard was hard rain against the glass.
âEND OF PART TWO.
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