#I really like medical drama lol

[flowerfreya]

Dr. Dad

part 1

This picks up where we left off from part 1. I am still learning how to link post and such so cut me some slack please lol

Pairing : Simon "Ghost" Riley / Reader

The reader is a 5th year resident that just had a baby with Simon who is an Attending. The reader does not want anyone to know that they are together until she makes fellow at the hospital.

He lets out a little smirk. His face turns serious for a moment. 

“My love know you don't have to come back to work so soon”

You sigh you knew that was coming. He’s been saying this since you told him that you were going back to work last week after you placed Bella into her bassinet. He was silent for a while just standing in the doorway of the bathroom. 

Looking at you. 

Assessing you. 

Trying to think of something to say to convince you not to do. 

 You had a relatively easy birth, having the birth of the baby at the hospital closest to your home and not the one you work at. It's not that you don't want anyone to know about you and Simon but , the relationship started when you were on his surgical rotation which is not allowed. You did let HR know about the relationship after you were off his rotation and the start date of your relationship officially is when you started your oncology rotation, which you really needed support for anyway.

When you fell pregnant you told Simon almost immediately. It was not an ideal time , you were a fifth year resident with little to no time on your hands , drowning in student loan debt, and you're barely making 60k a year. Simon on the other hand is an attending physician with over 6 years of experience in the field and 3 years working at the hospital. He was happy and together you let the medical director know about the relationship and pregnancy and those are the only people you told. 

When you started to show , there was a lot of rumors surrounding you.

It has to be one of the other residents , its the xrays tech baby , she always gets her patient pushed to the front 

You did nothing to dispel the talk, much to Simon’s disagreement.

“Let me say something”, he says one night after a 16 hour day. 

“You can say something , just don't say that your mine” you say 

You have an issue with being hyper independent, you realize that in fact a little to much. You love Simon but you let him know that you will be a working mom , you will be keeping your last name, and no one will know that you are dating Simon until you make Fellow , which is why you need to get back to work. 

Your mother was a godsend and also retired so when you called and let her know you were going back to work she didn’t try to convince you not to do it she just ask,“how can I help.”

 A knock on the door brings you back to the present. 

You sigh and proceed to unlatch the breast pump and hand them to Simon. He has a mini fridge and you dont trust these other residents to not fuck with your milk. 

Another this time harder and longer 

“One Second” you say brightly. While Simon glares at the door while towards it to unlock it. 

One of the 3rd year residents walks in and looks a little a pale. Lets you know that Graves is looking for you.

"Does he seem upset", You don't really care if he is but you would like to prepare how preppy you should act towards him. You firmly believe in killing people with kindness especially when it has to do with Graves who probably drinks Interns tears for breakfast , lunch and dinner.

"Is he bother you?", Simon ask. To anyone else it sounds like a normal question one of concern from a colleague. But you know he's worried he ask the question like it pains him from going to find Graves and tell him to lay off. No one likes Graves but he technically isn't doing anything wrong , he has the right to kick anyone out of his OR, to make interns scribe all his charts , and terrorize his residents until they rather to scut work then be in presence.

"Nothing that I can't handle" , you smile at him and then look to the resident that was sent to retrieve you.

"I'm right behind you", the resident turns and just about runs out the room.

You hand the milk to Simon and place a quick kiss on his lips, he makes an almost groaning sound and drags you back for another kiss , a deeper kiss with his hand tighting around your hips. You pull away with a little giggle, "I miss you too" you say , your eyes lowering that makes it known exactly what you miss.

You straighten your clothes back up , make sure that you don't look at tired as you seem and head out to another 4 hours of running around like you are fresh intern right from medical school and not a tired mom that just wants to sleep on the couch holding your baby.

[autistic-danieljackson]

Not to be all 'back in my day' but I think the problem with TV today is that shows don't get 100-200 episodes anymore.

[chocosvt]

HER | teaser.

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

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader teaser word count: 1.4k actual word count: 140k (yes, u read that correctly) genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

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

✧✎ a/n: as i descend to one knee and cup my hands together at your mercy, i offer a tidbit to the wonwoo fic i have finally completed after two years (lol). i know i ALWAYS say this, but i truly wasn't expecting the fic to be THIS FUCKING LONG! thankfully, i planned it well and although i lost momentum countless times (nervously side eyes the approximate & several 5 month breaks i took in between), my dedication to seeing the characters through & "completing" their growth was smth that i could not leave behind!

not having posted a fic for two years is prob a little much :0 so hopefully the length of this makes up for it (?) usually my writing is just teehee silly little romance agonizing slowburn surface level dilemmas of the self BUT THIS ONE HAS A LITTLE KICK!

so read it if you want! don't read it if you don't want!

hearts & flowers, xoxoxo (me :*)

UPDATE: read the first part here!

—MARCH 19TH.

“I have a relatively big favour to ask of you.”

 No. Wonwoo didn’t 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 writer’s block, or an inspiration drought, or an absolutely depressing lack of drive—it 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.

“Uh, Wonwoo?”

“Sorry… what?” He forced his gaze to shift from the blank page on his laptop to Seokmin’s apologetic, softly expressional face, slightly flushed from his time outdoors in the chilled March weather.

“I was just wondering if you’d be up for a favour��a pretty big one—and I know this is your special creativity spot, but she’s been like, breathing down my neck about it and I can’t put it off again.”

“Whose been breathing down your neck?”

At first, Seokmin didn’t 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.  

“Y’know…” he trailed off, “Her.”

Her.

No, not her, you.

But most people—if not everyone—referred 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.

“What?” Wonwoo deadpanned. “What on earth could she want to do with me? She doesn’t even know me.” He slid down in his chair, fingers pulling at his circle-lensed glasses so they tilted uncomfortably across his nose bridge. “Or, is this a joke?”

“Oh—no! Absolutely not!” His friend was insistent on proclaiming, vigorously shaking his head. “I’m being serious.”

“Why don’t I believe you then?”

“Okay, well, if you let me explain everything, it’ll all make sense. I said I know someone who writes really well—”

“Meaning me?”

“Yes, meaning you. And the only reason that was even brought up is because she wants to write a book.”

Wonwoo couldn’t 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.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo disregarded, “sounds like bullshit.”

“I’m telling you the truth!” Seokmin exclaimed, gripping onto the metal back of the café chair like he was squeezing someone’s taunt shoulders. “She won’t tell me about what, okay? Just that she’s been thinking the idea for a while now. It’s not like I didn’t try to get details. But she refused—said the only person who can know is whoever’s going to help her. Look, y’have to understand, she was pestering me about it nonstop. And you’re my only writer friend!”

“Well, you’re about to have none.” He answered, reaching for his coffee cup but stopping it just short of his lips. “How serious is she about this, anyway?” Wonwoo sighed. “Do you know how much fucking time you need to dedicate to writing a book?”

He stomached a slow, somewhat grimacing sip as he tasted the coffee’s coldness, meanwhile Seokmin swallowed heavily, and at last pulled out the chair he’d been white-knuckling to take a seat.

“Yes, I’m aware it takes time. I know that. And she is serious or else I wouldn’t be here, bothering you. She takes everything seriously.” The boy began unbuttoning his sleek black jacket. “Really, who knows what’ll happen? Maybe you’ll meet her once and she’ll decide she can’t stand you, and then you’re off the hook for life.”

“Yeah, well have you ever considered what might happen if I can’t stand her? Are my feelings even being considered? Minutely?”

“Minutely, they are being considered.”

“Liar.”

It wasn’t 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 him—to Wonwoo’s eyes, Seokmin was basically your little mailman that scrambled around in hectic nature to do your bidding, because most tasks apparently weren’t worth the time or effort.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to rope me into this. You know I can hardly write my own shit, right?” Wonwoo said bitterly, wishing it was the opposite, “my mind is a desolate, blank canvas of fuck-all and if she thinks I’m writing it then she needs a reality check.”

“No, no—of course you won’t write it!” Seokmin reassured him with his big, opalescent smile. “Really, you’re 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!”

“So, my nightmare?” Wonwoo huffed, shaking his leg.

In an instant, Seokmin had whipped out his phone, tapping around the screen quickly using his thin pointer finger.

“I’m just going to pull up her schedule. It’s always pretty packed, but more into the summer break, it thins out a little. “

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 café air. When he breathed in again, he could smell the luxurious coffees brewing in their rich and distinctive notes. It was such a beautiful day—still chilly as the snow outdoors began to thaw—but pleasant nonetheless.

“This is such a fucking waste.”

And Wonwoo spent it being miserable.

“No, it’ll be useful. Trust.” Seokmin chirped.

“You’re trying to dip me in your optimism gloss again.”

His friend smiled affectionately, tilting his head.

“This will be good. You’ve been a hermit since I’ve known you.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo scoffed, “so you think it’s a good idea to shove me with the person I relate to least on the entire planet?”

“Really? The least? So, what you’re saying is, you relate more to serial killers? Or animal abusers? Or like, literal fasc—”

“Stop.”

“You want to do this. I can see it in your eyes. I’ll set you up.”

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.

“Can I at least have some time to think it over?”

“Uh… well… the thing is… the thing with that is—”

“You’ve cornered me?”

“I wouldn’t word it like that.”

“… Okay.” 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 didn’t know even existed in his astrology. “Just, I don’t know—fuck—schedule me in wherever.”

“Ha! It doesn’t exactly work like that.”

“I really don’t give a damn how it works, Seokmin.”

“Right,” his friend laughed nervously, “I promise that I’ll get back to you pronto. Sorry for the disturbance. And, uh, good luck.”

 “With what part?” Wonwoo grumbled, fixing his spectacles back on to clarify Seokmin’s sympathetic face, the light bouncing off his head of brassy hair like a disco ball. “My incapability to write a goddamn thing or the fact I have to help your perfectionist friend who’s probably going to chew me up and spit me out?”

 “Both parts.” Seokmin grinned. “It can only go up from here.”

✧✎ a/n: tada!

this is the introductory scene! i think i've read it so many times that i could probably recite it from memory at this point ;_; anyway! as i mentioned, i know that it's been a hot minute since i last uploaded any scenarios. but one way or another this monster is getting posted! i did NOT have this lurking on my poor tired macbook causing it to overheat and sputter and spew FOR NOTHING!!

i swear that i don't plan for my works to get this goddamn long. before i hardly planned at all. maybe now i plan too much? i guess i have yet to find a happy medium!! but again, i do hope the size of the fic makes up for all that missed time :_( life has been ruff. but this fic was there as a handy distraction mechanism (when i prob should have been facing reality fhwejfhwk) so i guess it's been a double-edged sword!

also just want to preface that the reader goes by an alias throughout the fic. i'm not sure if this is like... a very huge or popular concept nowadays? so if it hits your reading ear a bit weird at first i apologize! but i swear it has purpose!! *chekhovs rule* *winkwink*

ANYWAY! no more rambling!

i'm pondering the idea of adding a taglist for those who are interested, just as i did with honey boy :3 so if that tickles ur fancy then feel free to each out!

BUT PLZ HEED THE FOLLOWING:

the fic in its entirety will be split across 6 parts

the word count of each part ranges from 22-24k!

i do not YET have a set posting schedule, simply bc i am unsure of how long it will take ppl to get through each part

(so that would be smth i'd have to gauge afterward)

REVISIT THE WARNINGS!!

i will not be flagging mature/nsfw/triggering scenes throughout the fic as the fic itself already has a heavy nature to it

so pls read the warnings!

if there's any additional questions i encourage u to swing by :3

*deep breath*

THANK YOU!!!!!

[snailmail444]

Can I get a headcanon of the bachelors and how they'd be sexy with you when you're down? Like, if they're trying to cheer you up and be a little goofy with it but also tryna HIT. THAT. 🤣🤣🤣

Thanks Snail, ILU.

Bachelors Goofing Their way Into Your Pants

18+ 🌱 MDNI 🌱 NSFW (-ish)

This one was a tough ask Libby but I’ll do nothing if not stand and deliver 🫡 Honestly might be my favorite head cannon list for the bachelors I’ve ever done so THANK YOU for this prompt icon. NSFW? -ish under the cut (lewd?? Idk lol)

Harvey-

💚 Perhaps the goofiest about this

💚 He would not try to come onto you when you’re down unless he KNOWS it’s going to pick you up

💚 So once he’s confident let’s start there

💚 It’s a song and dance

💚 Dissappears, and when he’s back he’s got his med kit

💚 He gets out the stethoscope and all. The whole nine yards.

💚 That’s right folks. We’re paging Dr. Love

💚 Will NOT let you stop this routine. Dr. Love WILL be completing the full assessment. Listening to your heart rate, checking your throat and ears, somehow always having to complete a chest exam

💚 (M or F he will be groping your tits for this one)

💚 The diagnosis is in

💚 There’s Only One Cure for What Ails You

💚 You guessed it! You need a little lovin’ (Dr. Love’s catchphrase)

💚 Important note: Dr. Love is not a licensed medical practitioner

💚 This works a little too well perhaps. He’s so confident for no reason at all LMAO

💚 Lowkey want to write a Dr. Love oneshot now because this is really fun and cute

Elliott-

❤️ If you’re feeling down man will preform the absolute worst ad lib poetry

❤️ Silliest lymrics you’ve ever heard

❤️ Dumb dumb dummmmmb

❤️ Very dirty and stupid bad poems about you

❤️ Specifically about his favorite parts of your body

❤️ Or his favorite things you do during sex

❤️ The worse it is, the better as far as he is concerned

❤️ Raunchy dirty filthy

❤️ But like. In the most grade school mother goose style he can manage

❤️ No flowery language here

❤️ Takes off your clothes to expose the parts of you the he’s referring to

❤️ When you do x thing (then tries to make you do x thing)

❤️ Will be proving his point. Period!!!

Alex-

🤎 Physical touch legend

🤎 Wrestles

🤎 Winner gets whatever they want from the loser

🤎 Has a wrestling name and all

🤎 Does the John Cena theme

🤎 His hands end up in all sorts of places that they don’t need to be

🤎 Most wrestlers aren’t grabbing ass 🤨

🤎 Gets you in some really tight, close pins, but somehow you end up winning anyway

🤎 No I didn’t let you win don’t be ridiculous I respect the sport too much to ever—

🤎 He let you win

🤎 You can take your prize now 😌 Whatever you want 😌

🤎 And if his hard on is pressing against you? Well. Maybe he has some ideas about what your prize should be

Shane-

💙 Gets you through the hard stuff first, so once you’re on the mend he’s goofing to the max

💙 KING FLEXER!

💙 Aw babe come on? How can you be so sad when you have these guns to look at?

💙 Runs through a series of absurd poses to show off his muscly farm boy arms

💙 Lays it on really thick about being a stud

💙 “No matter what at the end of the day you have a trophy husband” (even if he’s not married to you. ESPECIALLY if he’s not married to you)

💙 STRIP! TEASE!!

💙 Showing off everything you’re so lucky to have with a big goofy grin on his face

💙 Throwing his clothes across the room and everything

💙 Making the music sounds with his mouth

💙 You HAVE to whistle or hoot at him or clap or something

💙 He demands applause from his audience if he’s not getting some singles at least

Sam-

🩷 Another song and dancer

🩷 This man was born for the stage I fear

🩷 Genuinely and truly putting on a SHOW about it all

🩷 The drama of it. Uh oh, he’s compromised!

🩷 Will end up ‘stuck’ under the couch or table or anywhere else

🩷 Uh oh! I hope nobody takes advantage of me 👀 When I’m so exposed 👀👀 and vulnerable 👀👀👀

🩷 The worst stage acting you’ve ever seen in your life

🩷 Starts stripping in the middle of the living room because he “didn’t see you there!”

🩷 Pretends to be scandalized when you finally succumb to his advances

🩷 What are you doing?! Huh? What do you MEAN I was coming on to you? I always take off all my clothes in the kitchen, that’s ritual

🩷 insists he’s been objectified and taken advantage of

🩷 That kind of turns him on though let’s be so fucking real

Sebastian-

🖤 Okay so we’re going blunt king here

🖤 Two possible options

🖤 Uses it as a way to hard reset the system mid breakdown

🖤 Full crying, upset, whatever, he’s been holding you and trying to calm you down but it’s not working

🖤 “Wanna have sex?”

🖤 DEADPANNNNNN delivery

🖤 It never fails. Tried and true

🖤 Option two?

🖤 This is ONLY if mans is super comfortable in your dynamic

🖤 A classic

🖤 Whips it out

🖤 Thinking about that one tweet of the boyfriend who was in the mood and just put his dick on her shoulder while she was watching tv

🖤 Like that but buried under sixteen levels of irony

🖤 “I know what’ll help” and then he pulls his dick out

🖤 Probably the least likely to actually hit with these methods

🖤 However, he’s maybe the most likely to help improve your mood substantially

🖤 Through sheer presentation if nothing else. Man can deliver, and knows when to hit with the absurd to make it the most impactful

[theartofwoompwoomp]

Oh scrap

Soundwave x human reader

Summary: the decepticons start talking about who’s the hottest one, you don’t know your crush can read minds lol

Pt.1 Pt.2

———��———————————————————

It had been just a regular day on the nemesis. Cleaning Shockwaves and Knockouts tools, updating some data pads, reporting to Megatron, and hanging out with the minicons.

You started this routine since the day they brought you here. 

Apparently Megatron had heard that the autobots had more moral thanks to the human habitants. Thus he decided to do the same.

And that’s basically how you ended up there. 

Thankfully, you got along with a lot of decepticons, especially those in the higher ranks. Mainly since you were a great escape from gruesome responsibilities of the war. that’s why it’s not surprising that you’ve experienced many interesting conversations with your giant comrades.

Especially after explaining common human entertainment would often lead to a lot of chaos. 

Like today, some cons had started discussing about human attraction standards. 

They found it strange how inconsistent the standards were all over the world. 

Yet somehow this conversation shifted into who was the most attractive decepticon. 

It went from being a simple small conversation to a whole blow out debate. You hadn’t even realized how out of control the whole thing had gotten.

At some point knockout had joined claiming that he was the most eye captivating cybertronian even to the humans. But of course, the lanky drama queen known as Starscream was not letting him have all the glory.

All their squabbling was really starting to get on your nerves. Especially since all the commotion kept shaking the platform you were currently resting on.

And clearly you weren’t the only one annoyed with their antics, since Megatron decided to see what all the ruckus was about. 

Though he clearly wasn’t expecting to have his second in command and the medic start stating the reasons why they were more attractive than the other, then forgetting he was even their in the first place and currently occupy themselves in a fully out cat fight. 

He was honestly tired of this whole situation. The way it had escalated was too far out of control and he needed to end this at once. 

Without hesitation he vented a bit before speaking to make sure to convey his anger.

“enough with this nonsense.” 

Oh scarp, they forgot he was there.

“If you truly want to know who’s the most attractive, why don’t you just ask the human in question?” 

Now all attention was on you.

Before you could even plan an escape Megatron was quick to reach his servers towards you. And Lifted you up to where everyone could see and hear you.

“So tell us, as the only human aboard our ship,” he pulls you closer, “who is the most attractive decepticon?”

Honestly it felt like he was taunting you. Maybe the whole thing was a trap. Did he want you to say his name, somebody else, or no one at all? 

I mean, you clearly couldn’t choose any without causing a ruckus.

But before you could stop your mouth and think your answer through, your default brain was let loose.

“Well there’s only one correct answer to that,”

All of them quietly waiting in anticipation for your response.

“It’s obviously Soundwave, have you even seen the guy? He definitely the hottest.”

What?— the whole place blew up with different reactions. 

Megatron was partially amused but also partially uncomfortable with your response towards his most loyal companion.

Knockout feels completely cheated off and starts claiming the whole thing was rigged. And you don’t even have to look at Starscream to hear his complaints and tantrum saying how soundwave doesn’t even have a sexy voice.

And at that you started defending why you had chosen your crush without letting on that he was your crush and still admiring all his qualities.

But unbeknownst to you, the calm alien was having a hard time keeping his composure. 

He could hear everyone’s thoughts and emotions about the whole ordeal. And even though he couldn’t feel your emotions the same way with cybertronians. 

Your emotions were very clear to him. Big enough for him to understand how you felt about him.

Honestly he was flattered at how he could feel you defending your choice and the whole things was starting to fluster him when you started praising his physique and voice.

Even his own cassettes were starting to wonder what was making their boss aka dad so stiff. 

———————————————————————

Masterlist

Next

[twstfanblog]

*~Period Drama~* Saturday

A/N: So I sneezed, which is why this is out before the RSA series chapter lol. But I'm gonna have a lot of fun with this series I can feel it. Word Count: 4.7K (Wow, around the same as the last part) Warnings: Period mentions, Blood mentions (Drawing blood) She/They OC Pronouns Pairings: Azul/Reader (Poly), Jamil/Reader (Poly), Platonic relationships with Floyd, Jade, Ortho, and Crewel. Enjoy! Start, Part 2 (Here), Part 3 (Heartslabyul), Part 4 (Savanaclaw), Part 4.5 (Diasomnia pt.1), Part 5 (Diasomnia pt.2), Part 6 (Pomefiore), Part 7 (Scarabia)

Jamil, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Grim, Ace, and Deuce stood outside of ramshackle, some of them sitting on the wooden steps. Waiting as patiently as they could for Crewel to give them a final order. No more than twenty minutes had passed before Crewel opened the front door. He looked their group over, coming to some sort of choice before he smacked the palm of his hand with his crop, “Octavinelle pups, you stay. The rest of you go on with your day.” “Wait, what!?”

“Sensei!”

“Why does he-”

Crewel smacks his palm again. The crack somehow perfectly balanced with the harsh shush he gives them, quieting the protesting group instantly. His glare softens at seeing their crestfallen faces, “Yuu will be in contact. I need to gather up the needed potions and resource materials. But for now, They’re resting and it would be best to have someone in the house with them. Both to get them whatever they need and to keep unwanteds out. Ergo, the Octavinelle mutts.”

Jamil frowns but doesn’t speak up. He knew that he would probably have damage control to do in Scarabia. Najma most likely called Kalim in confusion from his call, not entertaining the thought of actually waiting on him to explain his bizarre question. Kalim would have only half the story and no context which was worrying enough, so he was clearly panicking and amassing the other Scarabia students for a witch hunt. He should stop at Scarbia before going back to basketball practice…

Deuce steps forward, imaginary puppy ears drooping as he mutters out, “Is Yuu at least okay? I didn’t see much, but it looked like a lot of blood…”

Sighing, Crewel walked down the stairs, gently patting Deuce on the head as he passed, “They’re fine, pup. I’m going to gather the Shroud boy and then prepare a proper medical report. As far as we should be concerned, this is completely natural for Yuu, if a bit painful.” He reached into his coat, pulled out his pipe kit and started to fill it as he walked away, “But for now, Azul, Floyd, and Jade are to look after them until I come back. You other pups are to return to your scheduled activities and tell no one about this.”

Ace looked to the side nervously, thankfully unseen by anyone before he nodded and started to make his way down the path behind Crewel. Deuce sighs but nods, calmed by the info that Yuu was okay at least. He jogs down the path after Ace, none of them are really surprised when muffled yelling could be heard a little down the way.

Azul looked out of the corner of his eye, catching Jamil giving him an intense glare. He knew Jamil was upset at the turn of events, the very fact Azul was picked over him would be enough to anger the Scarabian student. Let alone being picked by their lover’s pseudo-father figure as their keeper. He turns entirely to him, smiling and opening his mouth to pacify his lover-in-law before Jamil interrupts him.

Jamil turned his back on Azul, walking down the path to get back to campus. He quickly scooped Grim into his arms, ignoring the monster hissing and fighting his grip, “Just make sure they eat something high in iron.” That was all he said before he was also gone from view, walking past the row of trees acting as a fence of the property.

Silence passes the three students before Azul squeals, smiling wide and pumping his fist, “YES! He trusts me! You both saw that! He gave me his faith that I would tend to our lover. It’s only a matter of time before I can talk him into transferring!”

Floyd rolls his eyes, walking back into the house with a snickering Jade behind him, “Either you take care of my Shrimpy or they’ll kill you themselves…” he mutters under his breath, pout turning into a frown as the scent of blood hits him harder inside.

Jade’s own mirth decreases at the smell. He hums looking around the dorm. Yuu wouldn’t want the windows open, not to mention the smell would simply travel over the campus. The last thing they needed was Malleus smelling Yuu’s blood in the air. Seven could only think of the disaster that would bring. He looks up the stairs, only half listening as Azul enters the dorm to bicker with Floyd.

“-fact you would insinuate I wouldn’t take care of my pearl is insult enough, Floyd.”

“Ehe~? I just said Shrimpy wouldn’t let you slide with shitty service. You scared of a little blood Azul~?”

“I will dock your pay-”

“I’ll go sit with Yuu, keep them company.” Jade smiled over his shoulder, already walking up the stairs. He pauses halfway up the stairs, tilting his head at their stares, “Unless I’m allowed free range of their meal?”

Floyd instantly perked up, rushing to the kitchen whining with a glare at his brother, “No way! You’ll make some weird mushroom thing that’ll make Shrimpy even sicker!”

Azul stays for only a moment before he follows Floyd, giving Jade one last look, “Do make sure my pearl is in good condition. If you can wake them up, ask if they would like a bath.”

“Will do.” 

Jade parts with Azul, walking onto the second floor and toward Yuu’s room. He rested his hand on the doorknob and breathed in deep. Yuu’s blood was interesting, he’s always found it to be since he first smelled that foreign flora that no one could place. But that didn’t mean he wanted to smell it so strongly. He took in another deep breath in hope if he smelled it thoroughly enough the tightness of worry would loosen in his chest. Once calm he creaked the door open, knocking on it gently as he peaked his head in, “Yuu, I’m coming in.”

A simple groan answers him. That was acceptance of entry enough for him. He closes the door behind him and walks to sit in the armchair, moving it just a foot or so closer to the bed. Yuu had rotated since he last saw them. Now lying on their front with the blanket uncovered to their calves, arms wrapped around a pillow and eyes closed. If it wasn’t for the brief moments of their eyebrows creasing in pain, Jade would think they were perfectly fine.

A few minutes pass before Yuu opens their eyes, vision slightly hazy from pain, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Jade smiles, leaning forward to poke their cheek in greeting, “I’m guessing whatever is going on is quite painful?”

“Very much, yes.” They groan, snuggling into their pillow, “Periods are a bitch.”

“Azul said something about that. ‘Period’. That’s what it’s called?” When Yuu confirms, he leans back into the chair, humming under his breath. Now that things had calmed down, Jade couldn't help but call the whole scenario interesting. Finding differences in biology was always a fascinating venture, “Tell me about it.”

“Are you sure? It’s kinda gross and like…as you saw, pretty bloody.”

Jade chuckles, raising a hand to cover his mouth coyly, “I already said I want to know! Please don’t tease me in such a way!” He preens, feeling a small wave of pride at hearing Yuu laugh.

“You’re so weird…Alright.” Yuu angled herself to look over to Jade, raising an eyebrow, “What do you wanna know?”

“Is the bleeding just the first step of it? Do you gain internal injuries to produce the blood? Is the pain a result of-”

“I’m gonna just…stop you right there…” Yuu took a moment, trying to not laugh again, not wanting to change their towels yet, “So…Periods are weird because I feel like I'm injured but it’s all natural because of hormones are whatever.”

“Your hormones make your internal organs stimulate injuring themselves?” he takes a moment to look around the room. Standing up to grab a notepad and pencil from Yuu’s desk before returning to the armchair, "We have basic health classes in middle school. But I've never heard of hormones causing internal bleeding."

“Eh…more like the hormones jumpstart a refreshing process? Not so much internal bleeding.” 

Jade smiled wide, his pencil poised to write down every word they said, "Do tell.”

Azul texted Crewel to bring an iron supplement potion along with the pain potions. Yuu didn’t have any food besides snacks and her childish cereals, how Floyd managed to find enough items for a seafood alfredo was nothing short of a miracle by Azul’s standards. Sure it wasn’t high in iron like Yuu needed, but it would be warm and something for her to eat.

They were still worried. How could they not be? Their dear friend was a floor above them basically bleeding out from an intimate area that shouldn’t be bleeding. Crewel’s behavior had calmed most of their nerves, Yuu strangely wouldn’t lie to Crewel nearly as much as she would any other teacher. And Crewel wouldn’t be half as calm if something had actually happened. But as Floyd had said to him, ‘It still felt gross’. All of them forced to twiddle their thumbs and wait for Crewel or Yuu to give them all the facts instead of just dismissing their horrific theories.

Floyd scooped the pasta dish into a bowl, as Yuu preferred it, shoving a fork in it and walked past Azul. He didn’t bother to listen to Azul tell him to stop and wait for Yuu to get up from her nap or call for them. He didn’t want to. The only reason he cooked instead of Jade was because his brother couldn’t be trusted in a kitchen alone without shoving mushrooms into something. At least not while Azul was as distracted as he was. But he was just as worried as the others, Yuu was his Shrimpy. He’d share with his brother and Azul. But as far as he was concerned he was doing just that, sharing. Shrimpy was his to look after for as long as she hung around him. And he was already in a bad mood from earlier thinking he had failed her.

“Floyd, Yuu might still be sleeping, we shouldn’t bother them.” Azul scolded him, trying to keep his voice down while making sure it carried a harshness.

“Don’t care. I wanna check on Shrimpy…”

Azul kept quiet before he sighed. He pulled out his handkerchief, if Yuu was still sleeping he could cover the bowl so they could eat later. It would be lukewarm at best, but it’d be clean and ready for Yuu when they woke up, “Fine. Let’s go check on them…”

Floyd didn’t bother to knock, opening the door one-handed and ignoring Azul’s groan behind him, “Shrimpy~, you awake?”

Yuu rolled over, smiling with an edge of weariness, and waved, “Hi Floyd~.”

“Shrimpy!” Floyd nearly dropped the bowl onto the bed sheets, moving to hug and squeeze his best friend. The scent of blood was still strong but just knowing that his friend was okay was enough to keep him in a positive mood. Pulling away, he passes the bowl properly to them, “You doing alright?”

Yuu smiles as Azul moves quickly to place his handkerchief onto her lap, a small comment on the bowl being hot. She kept eye contact with the cecaelian until Azul turned away with a blush. But, she does place the bowl on her lower stomach, the heat helping more than the boys knew, “Thank you for the food. And no, I’m in pain.”

Floyd’s relaxed expression instantly changes, dropping into a frown and downward brows, “Why? What happened to make you bleed like this Shrimpy? If we were in the ocean you’d be a chum magnet…”

Jade looked up from his notes, “Muscle tension.”

“Huh?” Both Azul and Floyd turned to him in confusion.

Jade taps at the notepad, showing the lines of neat handwriting with various questions sprinkled around it, “Yuu’s body is physically pushing the blood out by contracting their pelvic muscles. The involuntary spasms are causing some intense muscle cramps.”

Azul frowns, his hand moving to press on their stomach, almost trying to feel the sensation, “When will it stop? Losing this much blood can’t be good for you…”

Jade looked over his notes, sighing at his findings, “Yuu says this lasts four days normally for them.”

“Four days?” Both Azul and Floyd exclaimed, worry evident in their voices.

Yuu smiled, leaning against their pillows, “Seven is the standard.”

Azul whips his head back to Yuu, eyes wide and glasses nearly falling off his face, “Seven!?”

“How do you stop it?” Floyd looked the most distressed out of all of them, simply looking at Yuu’s lap with poorly veiled concern.

“Oh, Azul, you’ll love this.” Jade beamed, eyes reading over his writing, “This is apparently happening because Yuu didn’t get pregnant.”

…

Floyd turned to look at Azul, voice deadpan, “Azul, hurry up and knock Shrimpy up so we don’t have to deal with this.”

The scandalized look on Azul’s face makes Yuu burst into laughter, blood be damned. The cecaelian stuttered out a rambled form of scolding and excuses on how he couldn't 'Knock Them Up' and how it was no one’s business what he and his lover did in the bedroom. He only grew more flustered seeing the smiles on the twins' faces, knowing they were internally mocking him and his distressed state.

He snaps his fingers, a golden contract appearing beside him. Gripping it fiercely, he points to the four names signed at the bottom, "In any case! Per our official ‘Quad Agreement’, only Draconia is allowed to impregnate Yuu and that's not even in effect until they’ve both graduated!" With another snap, the scroll was gone, leaving Azul huffing and crossing his arms.

Yuu quiets their laughter, reaching out a hand to hold Azul’s, " Aw~. Are you mad you can't give me an octo baby?"

"I'm mad because you're in pain and the one way to stop this is something we can't do for years!" Azul does loosen his arms, both hands coming to cradle their outstretched one, "You've been acting odd all week before this whole bleeding mess even started. We were worried…"

Floyd pouts, resting his head on Yuu's shoulder, uncaring of how far he had to bend, "You punched me for trying to give you a piggyback ride, Shrimpy. Really hurt my feelings."

"You had seemed quite lethargic the past few days." Jade gave a worried smile, tone clear in just how concerned the past events had made him.

Yuu looked at all of them in shock, looking at the slowly cooling bowl of pasta before they covered their mouth. The room was silent until Yuu closed their eyes and tried to fight back the whimper threatening to leave their throat.

"...Yuu-"

"You guys care so much about me…so much…" Yuu lets go of the bowl, both hands fanning at their face as their eyes well up with tears, "And I've been such a bitch to you." Their voice cracked and slid into a high-pitched wail as the tears started to fall.

Jade’s eyes widened, his mouth opening in a silent gasp as he quickly shared a panicked look with Azul, " O-oh, oh no."

The cecaelian babbled, stuttering under his breath and hovering his hands over Yuu’s body. He wasn’t sure if Yuu wanted to be physically comforted, or even touched, “Yuu? What’s wrong, are you in more pain? Do you need me to call Crewel!?”

Floyd hesitantly pats at Yuu’s head, not wanting a repeat of being sucker punched in the face the last time he touched an upset Yuu, “There, there Shrimpy. Just eat your food…”

Still crying, taking shaky breaths while gathering a collection of noodles and seafood on their fork, “You guys are so nice to me. And I’m a bad friend…”

Jade was subtly leaning away, pressing his back deeper into the chair as he eyed Yuu with mild suspension, “No…You’re a perfectly good friend to us, Yuu.” Hormonal changes would explain Floyd’s notice of Yuu’s scent being 'off'. He assumed the different levels had only affected their body as they had stated. But it seemed their emotions were also being affected. A moody Floyd is something he grew up with, he knew every tell Floyd could give. A hormonally moody Yuu was new and dangerous territory as far as Jade was concerned.

Even with their reassurance, Yuu’s tears wouldn’t stop. The three males grew more uneasy, simply watching their friend bleed on her bed and eat lukewarm pasta while she softly cried. They shared a look between the three of them before Azul stepped forward, a nervous smile on his face while he gently caressed her hair.

“It’s…it’s ok my pearl.”

Yuu looked up, sniffling pitifully before pressing her head into his hand, “I’m sorry I’m so mean to you…”

Azul chuckles, pressing a kiss to their cheek before pulling away, “It’s ok. I will admit, I do like when you’re a bitch.”

The sweet air was gone in a second. Yuu’s crying stopping as though a switch was flipped. They glared up at Azul, “Did you just call me a bitch!?”

“...” Azul looked to the side then back to her, pulling his hand back, “I-”

“So you think I’m a bitch!?”

“No?” The confusion in his voice was clear. He looked at the twins who were just as puzzled, the two eel-mers quickly shrugging at his silent question as to what he did. 

They also had no clue how to proceed. Yuu would normally either let them in on, or at least make their goal clear when they toyed with Azul. But this sort of rapid-fire mood change was not in their MO. It was even more so than Floyd could keep up with.

Yuu turned back to their pasta, tears coming back full force as their anger disappeared, “You’re lying to me…”

“...Would you feel better if I thought you were a bitch?”

“What is that supposed to mean!?”

Hours later, Floyd opened the door, disheveled and pouting at Crewel and Ortho, “Knifejaw…Hurry up and fix Shrimpy. They’re really mean like this and I’m sick of it.”

Crewel raised an eyebrow, walking into the dorm and waving a hand to send Ortho up before him, “Are they? More so than normal?” He said it with a jovial air, teasing his student since his own moods were the things of nightmares.

“Yes. If I felt like it, I would beg. I can’t handle them like this…”

“...”

Well, that was concerning… Floyd followed Crewel back up the stairs. Opening Yuu’s bedroom he realized that Floyd wasn’t kidding. Next to a standing Ortho Yuu sat on the bed, now cocooned in one of their blankets in Azul’s lap. Tear tracks on their cheeks and angrily sniffling between hand-fed forkfuls of pasta. Azul was sweating, oozing a nervous energy as though he were defusing a bomb and not feeding his lover. Jade sat in the far corner, chair pressed against the wall as far back as it could be and furiously writing notes.

Ortho beeped, eyes showing he was smiling under his mask, “Body scan complete! No external injuries are to be found!” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Yuu and resting his head on them, “I’m so glad you’re ok, Prefect Yuu!”

Floyd huffs from the doorway, glaring at the display, “Oh, he can hug you but I get punched if I try?”

Yuu glares, eyes just peaking through Ortho’s flaming hair, “I could never hit Ortho, he’s baby.”

“Prefect Yuu is right, I am baby.” the smug tone was just barely heard through Ortho’s normal frequency of cheer. Looking up his bright yellow eyes meet Yuu’s, “Oh! Just so you know, Ace told the rest of us what was going on in our group chat. Though Crewel-Sensei told me that no one was supposed to know. In his defense though, the timestamps show Ace gave the information before Crewel-Sensei gave the order to not tell anyone.” 

Yuu looks over to their phone on the nightstand, groaning at the wall of texts they’re sure is waiting for them, “God damn it.”

Sighing, Crewel waved his hand, “This is very cute, but Ortho you’re here for medical purposes. Let’s not get distracted.”

“Right!” Ortho stands up straight, holding out a hand as his other arm morphs to produce a syringe. “Prefect Yuu, may I have your arm to take a blood sample?”

Even though it looked like that was the last thing Yuu wanted to do, they managed to remove their arm from the blanket cocoon to place in Ortho’s waiting hand. Looking away while Ortho set to work finding a vein.

Crewel walked to the bed, grabbing a potion from his coat and uncorking it in one fluid movement, “How are you feeling, pup?”

“Like I’m in pain. The same as two hours ago. What kind of fucking question-” A fork full of pasta and sauce was shoved into their mouth, cutting them off from cussing out their teacher/father. Azul smiled timidly when Yuu’s glare snapped to him. Muttering through their food as they chewed, “Don’t you ever fucking try to silence me with pasta, again.”

Waiting until Yuu had swallowed and taken a breath, Crewel shoved the opening of the potion bottle to Yuu’s mouth and forcibly made them drink it, taking care to not justle their arm while Ortho drew blood. He adored his pup. But he was not going to sit idle and let them bark at him like they had the right, “That’s nice sweetie. Take your medicine, you’ll feel better.”

He only let up once the flask was empty, pulling away and placing the glass back into his coat. Yuu’s glare slowly softens, tense body finally relaxing in Azul’s nervous hold. They sigh, dropping their head into the crook of Azul’s neck, nosing into the flushed skin before pulling away to rest their cheek on his shoulder, “Sorry…about threatening your life and stuff. Forgot how bad cramps were…”

Azul, slowly wrapped his arms around them, nuzzling into their hair, “It’s…ok? So long as you’re feeling better now. Were you truly in that much pain?”

Floyd hums from the doorway, folding his arms, “I guess I can give you a pass then. I don’t like being in pain either, it’d make me just as crabby as you’ve been…”

Jade nodded from his corner, but made no move to come closer, “And it’s been nearly 6 hours since the supposed start of all of this. Does the pain really last the whole cycle?”

Yuu nods, “Yeah…I normally take pain meds when I realize it’s started so I don’t feel the worst of it. I take another dose either daily or just when I feel the first dose wearing off. But I didn’t have any potions in the house so I was gonna nap it off until Sam got my order.”

“All done!” Ortho spoke up, the vial of blood being placed in a secondary pouch for safety. Morphing his hand back, he placed his hands on Yuu’s lower stomach, tingles of something pulsing from Ortho’s fingers as he performed another scan, “In the most scientific phrasing you can, tell me what’s going on so I can add it to your file.”

Without missing a beat, Yuu answered, “My vagina is internally peeling and the liquidated lining is being pushed out.”

…

Ortho closed his eyes and stood up straight, arms resting at his sides. Turning around he walked out of the room, brushing past Floyd and closing the door behind him.

“...” Azul looked at Yuu, the horror from earlier that day returning to his face full force, “Your what is what now!?”

The sound of Jade’s pencil scratching at the notepad starts up again, muttering under his breath about needing more paper. Rushing to the desk and flipping through notebooks for a clean page.

Floyd simply looked sick by the door, the visual refusing to leave his mind.

“You know…” Crewel chuckled under his breath, more annoyed than mirthful, “That would have been a wonderful nugget of knowledge to have two hours ago.”

“I would have loved to not be in pain for half the day, but we don’t all get the raisin butter, do we?”

“Yuu.”

“It is really that different here?”

“Does blood come gushing out of female anatomy for a week? No, no it doesn’t. Yes, it’s different, puppy.”

Yuu sat quietly, looking down before raising their gaze back to Crewel, “I should probably learn more about the biology of this place…”

Crewel shook his head, annoyance clear in his expression while he pulled out folders from his bag, “Yeah you really should.” muttering under his breath about a ‘Dumb adorable dog’ as he slapped the papers on the bedspread, “So to start, there is a similar process-”

Floyd, opens the door, “Yeah, I’m leaving I’m bored and kinda freaked out.”

“Bye, Floyd! Sorry for punching you again.”

“Bye, Shrimpy~! Don’t bleed out!” He slammed the door behind him.

Jade sighed, standing from the armchair, “I should make sure he’s not doing anything too destructive. Best of luck to yourself, Yuu.”

Yuu waves to him while he leaves the room. They look to Azul, raising an eyebrow in question, “You wanna leave too?”

Azul mused for a moment. Female health classes weren’t something he was required to know, nor wanted to know. Anatomy in the Coral Sea was extensive enough, adding on surface world versions couldn’t be too different in hindsight. He might need the info later on in his life, maybe for a deal. Maybe to use it for a creative writing class, would Yuu find it distasteful if he wrote about their period in a horror setting?

“Azul?”

“I’ll stay.”

“Fine.” Crewel smacked his crop in his hand, twirling it to make the papers float and act as a PowerPoint, “Since you scared away the Shroud boy, I’ll have to do it this way.” Pointing toward a digraph of a uterus he spoke, “Luckily enough everything seems to be the same hardware-wise if your previous medical scans are anything to go by. Though, because you don’t have magic in your world, your bodies evolved a more… physical process.”

“Are you seriously telling me you bitches don’t get periods because you have magic?”

Azul slowly lifted a forkful of food to Yuu’s mouth, shakingly offering it like a sacrifice. He found that food was an easy way to calm their seemingly blind rage. He’d have to ask Jade for his notes later since he was too busy trying to keep Yuu and Floyd from fighting each other. He softly breathes a sigh of relief when Yuu lets him stuff the food into their mouth.

Crewel watched the exchange silently before continuing, “Yes…The process here is done normally after a day at most. The body’s natural magic will flare up and revitalize the uterus lining instead of…removing it.” He waved his crop, a photo of a body and various systems replacing the first example, “As I’ve told you before, everyone in Twisted Wonderland has magic naturally in their body’s cells simply from the magical byproduct of our world. So even if someone can not do magic, their body can still store magic to perform such cycles. It’s why scarring is so rare. Seeing how with modern medicine and the body’s cell restorative magic, healing has reached an almost perfect standard.”

Yuu was quiet, looking over the visual examples as Crewel continued his impromptu lecture. Leaning forward, they sighed out for so long it had morphed into a cry. They simply pushed away from Azul, ignoring him when he tried to comfort them. Turning away, they landed face first into the mattress and cried into their pillow. Through their sobs, muffled by the cushion they yelled, “This fucking sucks! I can’t even bitch with anyone else about how much this hurts!”

Azul looked at them in worry, barely noticing the red smears on his pants, “My pearl? Do you want pasta? Pasta makes it better right?”

“Azul, I’m getting real tired of you trying to feed me. I’m not a fucking wild horse you can soothe with delightful seafood pasta!”

…

Crewel raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the offered bowl in Azul’s shaking hands, “So do you not want the pasta-”

“Yes, I want the fucking pasta!”

[newtkive]

pixels [newt x reader - modern text au]

ch. 4 - agoraphobia and burger king on 5th street

summary: a personal experience provides a way for newt to connect to y/n.

warnings: strong language, mental health talk, depression, medication (its my literal prescription i mention oops this is like a self insert fr), mutual pining, none really.

➥ m.list

--

THE GLADE

[ 10:52 am ]

y/n: it’s official yall

drugs saved my life

tommy: huh??

minho: same

newt: wow, i’ve never seen your name on my screen before 12 pm

y/n: shut the hell up bitch

newt: ouch, touchy

minho: woah

touchy 👀

are yallll..?

y/n: you’re sick

tommy: are we going to ignore the drugs statement??

like hello are u ok ??

newt: you’re annoying minho

minho: yea <3 😊

notice how they didn’t say no

y/n: you guys just don’t understand how a girl like me needs beauty sleep..

and no we aren’t

gally: all that beauty sleep and ur still walking around with that mug.. yikes.

y/n: 😑

i hate you i haete you i dhateoyifu

minho: great she’s having a fit

y/n: no one cares about me

and you think i’m ugly

this is so sick

and you don’t even care that i’m on drugs

☹️😭😭😭😭 done.

newt: no one said that love

gally that was rude

minho: BRUHHHHH

here she goes

tommy: I CAREE????????

DO I NEED TO COMEGET YOU????

y/n: yes 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

before i do something crazy 😭😭💣

minho: THE BOMB IS WILD

tommy: stay where you are

i have your location

newt: uhhh

y/n: pause what

minho: tommy why would you admit to that

tommy: im On my way! what’s the issue

sorry autocorrect

y/n: WHY DO YOU HAVE MY LOCATION????

gally: can you guys shut the fuck up

minho: the drama queen is here 😍

gally: stop

alby: I have it on Life360, I imagine Thomas does as well. In fact I have all of your locations.

y/n: oh

i forgot about that app..

minho: i didn’t. i get a notif that newt’s phone is at 5% all the goddamn time

even tho he said he deleted it

newt: just turn it off then

i redownloaded it don't track my app intake

minho: no it makes me feel less lonely

y/n: awwwww

idk how you do that newt

newt: do what?

y/n: not charge your phone

if my phone gets below like 15% then the monsters will get me

tommy: omg me tooo 🥹

newt: i was about to say you sound like tommy.

tommy: don’t say that!

she’s on drugs i don’t want to sound like an addict 😔

newt: she isn’t on drugs thomas

tommy: she literally said she is newt :/

5 mins and i’m there y/n

y/n: are you actually fr

thomas..

we live very far away sweetie

newt: i mean

if you were in trouble you don’t think we’d come get you?

tommy: ^^

but life360 says you’re at the burger king on 5th

minho: no that’s me LOOOL

y/n: NEWTTT ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

tommy: wtf

i’m the one who’s coming to get u

why does he get the credit

minho: no tommy you’re coming to get me

tommy: oh yippee i get to see my friend 🤗

newt: ewwwwww

y/n: EWWWWW

tommy: OH STOP IT

y/n: why burger king of all places min

minho: why drugs of all things y/n

gally: she’s not doing drugs are you guys fuckin insane

y/n: yes i am

it’s 10 mg of fluoxetine 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

ONCE A DAY!!!!!!

IM ADDICTED

newt: no you aren’t, 10 mg is the smallest dose

minho: told y’all she was on drugs

y/n: ???????

minho: over the year

you’re too hyper to not be on some crack shit

tommy: oh stop that’s not nice.

newt: it’s not drugs like that minho stop.

tommy: uhoh he brought out the . at the end

y/n: it’s just for anxiety cuz i can’t leave the house without going into a breakdown

minho: she got acrophobia

told y’all she was mental

newt: what the fuck are you talking about

tommy: oh i know that word

fear of spiders 🕷️

minho: wtf no

fear of outside

y/n: i’m not afraid of outside

newt: that’s agoraphobia you fucking dumbass

y/n: 😍

i did NOT mean to send that lol oops

newt: ??

oh, okay

minho: when he’s a know it all 😍

when she’s agoraphobic 😍

y/n: when he’s at burger king on 5th because he has no food in his fridge and can only afford a $1.99 whopper with the coupons from the newspaper 😍😍😍😍

minho: 😒😑

newt: LMFAOOOO

GOOD THAT

minho: british people be so annoying

saying shit like gormless minger and good that be sooo real rn

newt: i have never said gormless minger in my whole 26 years of life.

y/n: you just did bro

newt: call me bro again

y/n: bro

brosive

brother

stepbro

minho: laughed until i saw the last msg :/

newt: 😑

y/n: ok youre the perverts

minho: cant you take your prozac and turn back to normal now

y/n: so you DO know what it is..

gally: wym 'back to normal' like there was smth before this??

y/n: real i been like this for life

tommy: i got whopper and two large fries and mozzarella sticks

newt: wow

y/n: wow just call him a fatass newt.

newt: i would never, stop

y/n: 2 large fries is kinda crazy tho

tommy: i have to get enough to share with my friend

minho

gally: surprised you have friends

tommy: yeah you are not one.

gally: RUDE?

y/n: WELL LMFAO

minho: i literally already ate also gally ur not my friend either

newt: same

alby: same

gally: well why tf am i in here

y/n: well you're my friend!

gally: great.

y/n: not with that attitude..

tommy: y/n you're ok though right??

y/n: yes tommy im fine sweetie

go eat your food

tommy: okay i wish you could share these fries with me

y/n: me too :(

minho: i don't

big back would eat em all

y/n: i actually hate you

__

newt

[ 11:45 am ]

newt: hey

y/n: hiii :D whats up??

newt: idk why but this feels like secretly texting you across the room at a party

y/n: actually tho

picture me giving u a look from across the room

newt: you would blow our cover immediately

i just wanted to let you know if you needed any like,, advice or something with your new medicine i'm here for you. i take the same stuff on top of lexapro

y/n: oh really?

newt: yeah i do

y/n: newt :( thank you

i am a bit nervous to start it tbh

newt: i understand, i was too

but hopefully it'll change things for the better

y/n: i hope so

i didn't realize you dealt with anxiety n stuff

newt: more than you know

you aren't the only one and you aren't alone w it

y/n: you're sweet newt, thank you

newt: don't mention it :))

sorry the smiley was creepy

y/n: lmao no i like it

if you need to talk or anything too i’m always here

newt: yeah?

y/n: of course ): you’re my pookie

newt: one day you gotta let go of that word lmao

y/n: but you love it tho

newt: you tell yourself that

actually are you free rn?

y/n: yeah! i’m just about home what’s up?

newt: i’m bored so pick up the phone

y/n: NEWT LMAO

ok fine 😒

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Hey there, if you’re back in the realm of the living after your nights….

I was wanting to know what some of your favorite linked universe headcanons are? They can be ones you came up with or someone else's that you like.

Sleep well and recover from the stress!

I'm mostly back in the realm of the living! I really wanna write stuff, just need to get the brain to work with me.

Some of my favorite LU headcanons, hmmm...

Twilight has a country accent. He masks it very well, something he learned to do during his journey, but it comes out when he's emotional or tired.

Warriors doesn't mind that he's attractive. He isn't ashamed of who he is or how he looks. He does not like having his looks used for anyone's benefit or gain though.

Hyrule is the least able to relax of the entire Chain. He's used to being hunted constantly, and he's always been a traveler who wanders on his own with some of the hardest journeys (not that he realizes it) of all the boys. He is acutely uncomfortable in a group initially and doesn't let his guard down easily, even if he doesn't quite act like someone always on edge.

Sky sleeps all the time because he never sleeps well, so he's always feeling exhausted. Also, he's fairly convinced Time doesn't really like him, so while he doesn't go out of his way to get Time's approval, he does greatly appreciate when he gets it.

Wind may be the exuberant optimist of the group, but he's actually pretty level headed and realistic too. He just doesn't always convey it well due to the immaturity of his youth.

Time has mentally adopted all the boys and feels responsible for their well being.

A good number of the boys know basic care for a lot of things, but there are some who are better at things than the others and become the Team [Insert Skill]. For example, Warriors is the Team Medic because he's accustomed to field wounds and medicine. Legend is the Team Seamster as he's the best at mending and the like.

Warriors made an Enemy List of those most likely to betray or hurt him when he first met everyone before realizing he was with a group of Heroes of Hyrule.

Legend loves adventuring. He just doesn't know how to deal with the consequences of them.

Four is absolutely horrible at keeping secrets, unless they're his own because he wants to hold on to them for drama's sake

Wild is actually one of the chattier Links. The chattiest are Wind and Warriors.

Time sucks at addressing emotions, even compared to the others. Malon has helped him address things, but without her he's clueless and tends to fumble through it when others are upset/hurting. He does try, though.

...I'm pretty sure most of these are just my own headcanons but oh well lol

[deathmetalunicorn1]

thank you sm for doing god's work!! i always get So happy whenever you open requests lol

anyway, i know You already did a ror fam with actress reader, but can it be in a different kind of movie this time¿? i mean the kind of film that makes you cry your heart out for a character in a really bad situation, to The point where you start to question whether or not you should keep watching it because it feels like it is too much

reader got to play the main character role this time but in an extremely sad and heart-wrenching movie that pretty much gets to the heart of her family :3 and even send her pictures of themselves crying or records others bawling their eyes out hahah

-Your family was deathly silent, hands covering mouths, tears in their eyes as they were watching your newest film. Since you’re the leading lady you got an advanced copy for your family so they could watch it first, at least those who didn’t go and see it in theatres.

-Unlike your last few films that were actions flicks, full of explosions, guns, and other kick-ass action, this film was a drama, a sad drama.

-Critics were raving about your performance in this movie because nobody was able to watch it without crying. You even mentioned in interviews during production that the scene your family was currently watching, there were so many breaks because the staff were breaking down in tears.

-It was a war movie, one where you were looking for your newlywed husband, who was called away to fight in a war for a cruel dictator who cared nothing for his soldiers, only for results- if his men were winning, he was happy.

-When the dictator launched an attack, not caring that his own men were in the line of fire, it was you and other wives, young and old, who stormed his estate, first pleading for mercy, then for justice, only to be met with ridicule, insults, and lewd comments, asking you and the others how you would be willing to pay him.

-This was the last straw, and the wives took justice into their own hands, killing the dictator and ending the conflict by displaying not only a white flag, but the bastard’s head on a pike.

-That’s when you ran into the now peaceful war zone, soldiers helping each other, not matter the side, digging survivors from the rubble, families lamenting the loss of friends, brothers, sons, fathers, and husbands.

-Loki was hugging a pillow as you found your husband, crying out his name as you entered the medical tent. He smiled up at you, cupping your face, but had difficulty speaking, due to his wounds as you broke down in tears, sobbing, begging him not to leave you.

-He just smiled softly, reaching a hand up to your cheek, brushing a tear away and you leaned over, kissing him softly as he took his last breath, his hand falling to the side as you broke down in pitiful tears.

-Jack, who was the calmest of the family, sent you a picture of the rest of your family, many of them hugging, several of them ugly crying as you got text messages from several of them, sending you crying emojis and GIFs.

-You couldn’t help but laugh, finding their reaction amusing, but you were happy that they did love the movie. You were wondering how they were going to take the news that you were up for several Academy Awards, as only you and your agent knew at the moment.

-Good thing you were currently on a plane, enroute to your family, to surprise them with multiple things. You couldn’t help but grin, excited.

[shijiujun]

WHY YOU CAN TRY WATCHING YUAN ZUI 原罪 Original Sin (2024)

Okay I've watched up to 20 episodes (out of 25 I think) and can say that this is a mild, low-level rec — just for people who MIGHT be interested in it, and don't have too much expectations on script etc. Off the cuff, it's very SCI-esque production but with slightly worse lines and acting (I'll explain later) BUT the filming visuals aren't bad, main characters are cute, and the cases objectively are pretty okay. My two cents is - if you're bored and looking to just pass the time, you could watch this, but if not, you won't be losing out on much either, but it's worth a try.

IN GENERAL

It passes as a detective drama - to be very fair, they've really tried their best to do a detective drama properly with the hints, the process, the autopsies, the high management police relations, some spy work, some vulnerabilities, some teamwork, some misunderstandings and arguments, some backstory and some PTSD < they've got all the makings of a good show, plus Wang Haoxuan and Chen Huan the two main leads are nice to look at, and their acting is passable.

Clunky script, lines and acting - Personally I think a lot of the lines were not necessary, and because you stuff like a scene out of place, there's like a lot of unnecessary emotion at strange places you wouldn't expect logically LOL. Some of the clues are also a bit ??? I mean I watch with a lot of suspension of disbelief trust me, but I found myself LOL-ing with a cringe at some places. A little overboard in acting also for the PTSD or like the cases that really affect the two male leads, like you can feel it's a tad over the top in terms of trying to get a feel for the scene, but I mean, like I said, low expectations.

If they had a better production and more episodes, I think this might have turned out to be 100% better. It's a hardcore detective drama, so much so that technically some character development scenes would have done it well but they're like almost overly focused on the detective parts of it and like relationships are all for show, but we'll make do.

SUMMARY

Dai Yu (played by Wang Haoxuan), a medical examiner, works closely with Zheng Ming (played by Chen Huan), a police squad captain to solve five cases (5 episodes per case) — they've known each other for a long time, as Zheng Ming's mentor is Dai Yu's dad, and their relationship goes way back. Between them is the death of Dai Yu's father, who was shot right in front of Dai Yu, and the death of Zheng Ming's best friend Hai Shan, who was exposed for his undercover role and shot to death by Zheng Ming by accident during a hostage situation. This results in Zheng Ming being unable to shoot a person after, afraid that he would miss his shot like he did. As they work through several cases, they unravel secrets of what happened in the years after these two deaths.

Total 25 episodes

Playing on iQIYI, but don't know if there are subs since it's so obscure as a production there's barely any promo of it online

BROTHERHOOD (AHEM)

Truly a brotherhood like as if they're allergic to bromance BUT there are really like split seconds where you have to do a double take OKAY! They're kind of close because Dai Yu's dad was Zheng Ming's mentor, but Dai Yu himself took a while to warm up to Zheng Ming and Zheng Ming is kinda hot-headed, and misunderstands people really quickly. The both of them switch between being real familiar with each other to super professional like SUPER professional.

EP. 1: Zheng Ming sends Dai Yu back but Dai Yu has fallen asleep in the car so he literally removes the seatbelt for Dai Yu and then they just fall asleep in the car like that.

EP. 6+7: Dai Yu has his own house but when he sleeps over at the police housing he rooms with Zheng Ming, and Zheng Ming always nags at him for sleeping with his shoes on. And always buys him breakfast. And when Dai Yu once again falls asleep while talking to Zheng Ming without taking his shoes off, Zheng Ming takes it off for him and is all like "There you go again, sleeping with your shoes on."

EP. 15: After having a cold war with each other for like 3 episodes, Dai Yu tags along on a bust without permission and nearly gets knifed and Zheng Ming is pissed off as fuck going like: "What if that blade really hit the mark?! If it was a gun, you'd also step right in front of it?!" and then he walks off and then Dai Yu says, "If it was you (in danger), I definitely would stand right in front of the gun."

There are a lot of other moments, but it's always just RIGHT when you think it could be a bromance moment NOPE they make it so professional I'm like BRUH!!!

But otherwise for me personally, who's a low-maintenance viewer, this hits the spot and I'd keep watching!! Edit: Just finished watching the whole thing and ARGH wow talk about the most abrupt cold-feeling ending ever LMAO?!!?!

[gwenfr]

@bugboybuck I saw your wonderful post (great taste, totally recommending the same shows, didn't know about the last one so thanks, totally putting it on my watchlist) but didn't know if you wanted us to recommend shows on your post or elsewhere so here are some of my recommendations :

The lake

After returning from abroad following a breakup with his long-term partner, Justin plans to connect with his teenage daughter he gave up for adoption. His plans to make new memories with her at the family cottage go awry when he discovers his parents left it to his picture-perfect stepsister, Maisy-May.

The main character is gay and played by Jordan Gavaris who played Felix in orphan Black and he has a pretty love interest.

There is also other queers characters but I don't want to spoil too much.

The show kind of reminded me of schitt's Creeks for the "an assembly of funny characters are cut out from the rest of the world" kind of show. If schitt's Creeks were 10/10 on the funny and entertaining scale then The lake would be 7/10 for me. I really recommend it if you want to watch a cute and funny little show with queer undertones without some heavy thinking

It has already 2 seasons of 8 episodes each (30min each) and it's renewed for a 3rd season.

@cull3nblaze I think you could like this one 👍🏻

Instincts

A former CIA operative who has since built a "normal" life as a gifted professor and writer is pulled back into his old life when the NYPD needs his help to stop a serial killer on the loose.

It has the great Alan Cumming playing the gay older main male character, he's happily married and face some adult challenge in his personal and love life. His work partner is also not a "young" woman and she got a lovely straight pairing as well (trying not to spoil lol)

It aired in 2018, was cancelled after 2 seasons only unfortunately but I have bad memory and still I remember this show, because watching a police show with a main gay character was not common in 2018 but also because I still remember loving the characters and their personal struggles so really recommend it if you like some good police procedural drama with a good 1 cop/1 genius etc...

Smiley

Álex has just suffered a love disappointment and sends a voice message to his boyfriend in anger but the voice is received by Bruno. This mistake ends up making them meet and what begins as a date ends up having greater significance.

I already made a post about it but it's such a great and beautiful serie.

Older insecure gay and a young secure gay and older gays and older queers and lesbians and red string theory and ... Okay I will stop but totally recommend it ❤️

Skymed

Follows intense character journeys and high-stakes medical rescues, heartbreaks and tribulations of budding nurses and pilots flying air ambulances.

Hot diverse straight and queer pilots in the middle of beautiful landscapes, what more do you want ?

I'm still in the middle of watching this one so not sure about the happy endings for now but the 3rd season is going to air in 2025 so hope is there.

It's like a mix between 911 and Greys anatomy I suppose. It's like 911 but if they were all young and more willing to hookup with each other lol

It has female and male queer characters, and has great poc, I really like them so totally recommending it.

@bekolxeram I think you'll like this one 👌🏻

[mostlyfate]

Would it be okay to ask you for jdrama recs? Coming from someone who hasn't watched a single jdrama in their life 😊 Kind of a jdrama starter pack please? ❤️

*sweats nervously once again* bc as I said before I honestly don’t like to rec things bc I think my taste is all over the place... 😂 and I'm not one who really pays attention or think about the faults of dramas. I just watch and enjoy (most of the time) lol. It also has only been almost four years for me with watching jdramas so I feel like I'm still pretty new to them haha. but I will try~ and what I mention is honestly more of ones I enjoyed the most watching and can remember!

okaaay! if you want to start out v short and sweet w some 🦋's i have two favorite drama specials 💘

— Tadashi Koi no Hajimekata (2023) | episodes: 01. genres: romance, youth. » there's only one episode but with two different versions! the name mentioned above is the first version and then tadashi koi no hajimekata: horoama? horoniga? date hen is the second version. it basically the same but shows the perspective of the two male leads with additional scenes! i just loved the pairing of mako and eita and their chemistry was soo good and fun. i am still v sad it wasn't an actual full length drama 😭 and the song that played at the end of date version was on repeat for months! 10/10 reccomend ✨

— An no Ririkku: Sakuragi An Haiku Hajimetemimashita (2021) | episodes: 02. genres: drama, youth. » i remember enjoying this one a lot it was definitely one of my favorite watches in 2021! since this one isn't the freshest in my memory (i have the worst memory fr) i can't say much but i swear i was obsessed w this special and the leads back in 2021!! 😆

before i get into mentioning actual full-length dramas i'll mention my two favorite jmovies that i actually physically own :)) so if you're interested in watching a movie before diving into dramas 💐

— Murder at Shijinso (2019) | duration: 2hr. 0 min. genres: horror, mystery, thriller, youth. » i love this dumb (affectionately) silly movie so much!! it might also be because i love the main actress hamabe minami but it's definitely just a fun murder mystery to watch :D

— You're Not Normal, Either! (2021) | duration: 1hr. 38 min. genres: comedy, romance, drama. » i enjoyed this one a lot!!! obviously since i also went out of my way to own it haha. but yeah my reviews for literally everything i like is "i enjoyed it" 😅 but seriously i did 🙇‍♀️

now for dramas!! i'll mention my two all time faves then ones i remember enjoying the most! 💐

— Talio Fukushu Daiko no Futari (2020) | episodes: 07. genres: comedy, law, mystery. » it's been three years since it aired and i'm still crying about it 😭 it's the one drama i never shut up about and think about all the time. it's my favorite drama of all time like nothing throughout the years has had a hold on me since!! (what i've previously said about it~) | the way both leads played off each other and their chemistry was just- a++ the soundtrack for the drama was also such a treat and the vibes matched it so well! the vibes of the whole drama though!! I think it was also shot beautifully. and the consistency (!!! the way they kept things going even the smallest details !!!) throughout was something i really appreciated and looked forward too :’) i really be missing it everyday... </3 | i literally have a talio collection that i finally completed a few months ago 🥹 i have the dvd, cd, vinyl, and the magazine the leads were on the cover of 🫶

— Itsuka, Nemuri Ni Tsuku Hi (2019) | episodes: 06. genres: fantasy, friendship, supernatural, youth. » this one still makes my heart hurt whenever i think about it and i just simply love it to pieces. it really has left an lasting impression on me. short and bittersweet. 🖤

dramas that are romance focused 💓

— Koi wa Tsuzuku yo Doko Made mo (2020) | episodes: 10. genres: comedy, medical, romance. » ahh so i think this was my first jdrama i watched!?! i honestly cant remember if i watched any before this bc this was the first jdrama i actually made gifs of so i'm going off of that as it being the first haha. but if you want something nice and fun to watch with romance at the forefront this is for youuu! bc i feel like most of my recs aren't romance heavy! and i just remember being obsessed with the leads and pretty sure it's what made me continue to watch jdramas 🫣

— Animals (2022) | episodes: 08 (+ 2 specials). genres: business, romance, drama. » loved loved loved this drama! one out of the five favorite dramas i watched in 2022!! great friendships, great message, funny and sweet moments, lovely lead— umi-chan i miss youuu. 🤧

— Oshi ga Joshi ni Narimashite (2023) | episodes: 12. genres: comedy, drama, romance. » definitely one of the funnest and sweetest drama i watched last year and suzuki airi (female lead) it's just such soo good, love her acting! she's also the lead in the drama animals i previously mentioned! pure rom-com with great chemistry!! ✨

— Kieta Hatsukoi (2021) | episodes: 10. genres: comedy, romance, youth. » high school setting with romance/friendship being the focus!! all the characters are so likable and it was such a cute and fun watch!!

— Ore no Kawaii wa Mousugu Shohikigen!? (2022) | episodes: 09. genres: comedy, romance. » easy fun and cute watch with great leads!!

dramas with all other kinds of genres (w hints of romance) ✨

— Bishoku Tantei Akechi Goro (2020) | episodes: 09. genres: comedy, food, mystery, thriller. » ooh i was obsessed w the leads of this one as well LOL. idk i really had so much fun watching this one and i loved main female lead a lot. 😭 also it had some really funny moments 😭

— Toki wo Kakeru Bando (2020) | episodes: 10. genres: comedy, music, romance, sci-fi » #wasnt expecting any crying to happen going into this drama 😩 #miura shohei's performance though?? AMAZING #he had me in tears every time #ryo i love u #not that it's similar but this reminds me of itsuka nemuri ni tsuku hi 🤧 | tags from a post i posted when i watched yeah 😂

— Dr. White (2022) | episodes: 10 (+ 1 special). genres: comedy, drama, medical, mystery. » also another favorite from my five favorite dramas watched in 2022! even though it wasn't finished being subbed until last year i still very much enjoyed what eps i watched back then! like i really looked forward to every episode and soo grateful the subber decided to finish it and subbed the special as well! i might be bias because i love hamabe minami who's the female lead (and is in two other things i mentioned above lol) but all the characters are v likable and they all have great chemistry together! plus i enjoyed the v subtle hint of romance between the two mains like it isn't really there but it is and i was quite satisfied with the ending. 🫶

— Ryosangata Riko: Puramo Joshi no Jinsei Kumitate Ki (2022) | episodes: 10. genres: business, drama, life. » i adore the lead so much, she's the cutest! i find this one to be such a fun and relaxing watch! and there's a cute little hint of romance which was soo good to me and wish we got more of them. 😭 there's also a second season: Ryosangata Riko: Mou Hitori no Puramo Joshi no Jinsei Kumitate ki / with same cast members but set in a new universe that just aired last year!

— Okaeri Mone (2021) | episodes: 120. genres: life, drama, romance. » the number of episodes might scare you but this drama is an asadora (morning drama) which is only 15 minutes per episode! so if you're looking for a longer watch about life with a bit of romance i 10/10 recommend checking it out!! yes hello i always miss them 😭

what i'm currently watching ☕️

— Uchi no Bengoshi wa Te ga Kakaru (2023)| episodes: 11. genres: comedy, law, mystery. » i totally have a thing for law and mystery dramas lol. but i've been enjoying this one a lot and recommend if you want something fun but somewhat serious to watch! and if you just like law dramas like mee 😂

— Nanyobi ni Umareta no (2023) | episodes: 09. genres: drama » this one is keeping me really interested and is definitely a type of drama i haven't really watched much of?? it's engaging, surprising and the actors are great! i feel like most dramas i mentioned are easy going ones to watch besides a few so this one is the latter!

+ special mention if you wanted to watch something base on an manga w anime-like feel ❈

— Kishibe Rohan wa Ugokanai (2020 - 2022) | seasons: 03, episodes: 03, 03, 02. + a movie Rohan au Louvre (2023) genres: horror, fantasy, mystery, thriller, supernatural. » i had been watching since the first one came out in 2020 and i didn't think we would be getting a season every year since and then even a movie! definitely check out if you're in the mood for creepy mystery with pleasing visuals + great outfits!

yeaaah that's it from me! ✌️ i feel like this isn't much of a starter pack-friendly list since it's kind of all over the place sorry 😭 but hope even just one peaks your interest!!

[olderthannetfic]

I think the discussion about if loli guys are into actual children misses the point tbh. Even when they’re well aware that it’s not actual children and they don’t WANT it to be and they’re specifically into the non-realism of it…. A lot of loli (and moe, which is not unrelated since it’s rooted in the aesthetics of it but applied outside the specific genre) in anime is still about this fantasy of women as helpless and innocent and needing to rely on you and, above all, not having real world problems. Granted, a lot of romantic fantasy is like that, arguably especially stuff about women aimed at men…. But I think that is what personally makes me not really want to deal with guys who are super into it that in my own personal life. Like, let’s not pretend that a certain kind of guy getting used to expecting women to be like that in anime and video games hasn’t had some real consequences for women in nerd culture who insist on being full human beings over like, the past decade and a half lol. Like it’s just hard to imagine that being the fantasy of a guy who specifically wants a take-charge, dominant, independent kind of woman over like…. Idk, lady villains stepping on his face or something, lol

I’m hardcore anti-censorship and don’t believe that preferences in romantic or sexual fantasy in fiction has an exact relationship to what we want in real life…. But it seems strange and anti-intellectual to argue that media *never* has that influence. Like, just divorce this from arguments about porn and “problematic shipping” for a second. There are a ton of people, of multiple genders but especially over age 20 or so they’re more likely to be men, who seem to think that if they’re friendly enough to someone of their preferred gender (or really, opposite gender, since this is based on an “everyone of my preferred gender is a potential partner” norm that people into the same gender just can’t assume) they’ll eventually reciprocate their feelings, or they *should*. The Nice Guy thing. Do you really think that the numerous romantic comedies that have that as a dynamic, or the video games whose “romance” mechanic is “give them gifts and talk to them enough and they’ll eventually be a love interest possibility,” doesn’t play into that at least somewhat? Like, we’re all smart enough to know that Stardew Valley and Harvest Moon aren’t like real life romance, I think…. But did you know that yet when you were 13? Do you think *everybody* who plays those knows that?

Take it out of the context of romance at all. If you’re a lawyer, how many times have you heard people who have misconceptions about what you do based on legal dramas? Or for doctors, about medical dramas?

And that doesn’t put any responsibility on the creators to change stuff (I mean, the “reward = romance” thing is just a very easy video game mechanic for instance, and programming in something that more closely resembles actual romance would be impossible, and it’s not like it’s any less realistic than like, how you fish or mine or farm in those games), it’s still on consumers to think critically (again, that the video game that has you fighting slime monsters in mines or where you grow broccoli in just a few days and harvesting crops is just one click isn’t going for realism perhaps. People wring their hands about the general popularity of farming games like it’s yearning for some political/cultural thing, and forget that the specific fantasy is it without all the toil. Just like plenty of people love playing restaurant games who work(ed) in restaurants irl and hate(d) it). But like, we talk about “society” influencing people in terms of stuff like racism and sexism. Mass media is part of society. This is why a lot of feminist criticism over the years has focused on critiquing broad patterns that recur in media, to the point that they become societal trends — and a lot of people take this in *unconsciously*.

I think what that one earlier anon meant with “especially with porn” is that porn shouldn’t be like, an exception to this. It’s kind of weird how people who are all for media analysis of problematic patterns in other kinds of media think it suddenly doesn’t apply if it’s media designed for the purpose of getting off. And sure plenty of us are into things in porn we have no desire for IRL (I love mpreg and I love kidfic, I have less than zero desire to have kids and especially be pregnant irl, to the point that it’s actually a squick for me in *het* fic), plenty of people are into specifically the fantasy version minus the Issues they have with that stuff in the IRL version. But… that’s not everyone. Some people’s porn preferences do match up with what they’re into irl. Even when they don’t, as with the loli example there’s often some other particular reason they like that

I don’t think it’s right to go around asking strangers to go around explaining their porn preferences to you, but I think it’s fair to think about it yourself (in the interest of introspection if nothing else), and to critique broad patterns in fandom, same as we would for any other kind of media. Why is porn the special exception for which all the other rules about 101 media analysis don’t apply?

--

[chocosvt]

HER | part two.

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

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 22.7k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

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

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

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

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

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

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

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

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! 🌟

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

—MAY 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, you’d let him actually glean your work, and he was quite impressed with your natural skill. He supposed the biggest issue was the choppiness—your 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.

“Okay, I’m going to do a handstand.”

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.

“I’d really prefer you didn’t,” he answered through the fingers covering his mouth, his eyes trained with focus on the document.

“No, no. I used to be so good at them. Watch.”

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.

“Now that I have your attention—”

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 “special trick” they’d 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.

“Go!” 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.

“See! Told you!”

“I mean, I never said you couldn’t.”

“Are you amazed?”

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.

“Cirque de Soleil is asking for you, actually.”

To Wonwoo’s utter relief, you collapsed back onto your feet, probably because the blood was gushing to your head and he’d 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.

“I’m almost done,” Wonwoo reaffirmed, moving aside the stitched pillow you’d chucked at him earlier and reopening the laptop.

“Don’t let me rush you.”

He chuckled instantly. “You mean to tell me you’re not bored out of your mind? Why else would you be doing cartwheels.”

Finally, you got up from the rug.

“Um, it was a handstand,” you were hasty to correct him, now sinking into the seat beside Wonwoo on the couch with the circle pillow pulled onto your lap. “I could do a cartwheel, though.”

“Yeah, not in this house you’re not.”

“Not in this house you’re not.”

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 he’d come during your hour together.

“So, where are you at anyway?”

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 didn’t exist.

He adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat.

“I’m basically done.”

“You are? Okay. Hm… it seems like you made a lotta notes.”

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 before—close enough that your shoulder was digging into his and he could sense your full, bright eyes burning a stare at his pink cheek.

“They’re mostly easy fixes…” he mumbled, refusing to look at you, instead scrolling impetuously through the document with jerks of his pointer and middle finger.  

“Well, what do you think of it?”

He paused, still staring at the laptop.

“Of what?”

“Wonwoo, my writing, obviously,” you said with a warm laugh and a soft breath that rushed over his neck in such a pleasurable, lightheaded way. “And look at me,” 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, “I just want to know you’re telling the truth.”

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.

“Well, you’re obviously good at it,” he managed to answer the question without his voice trembling, “just some pacing issues, mostly. You’ve 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.”

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 away—sometimes it was too much—you 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 he’d spritzed clean of all dust.

“Did you make this?” Came your inquiry, a curious finger pointing toward the round-bottomed, thin-necked red vase.

Wonwoo shook his head.

“No, it was a welcome gift from the landlord.”

“She made it?”

“Yeah,” he hummed. “Didn’t I tell you? She owns the pottery business downstairs. Saskia. She immigrated here like, eighteen years ago, now. From Poland. I thought you might’ve run into her.”

Shaking your head, you turned back to the vase.

“I didn’t see her at all.”

“She was probably in her office.”

“How did she make all these little emblem thingies? Around the base? Like, this one’s got an elephant. This one is a fruit tree.”

Wonwoo squinted at the vase from his place on the couch. He hadn’t 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, either—not even the brilliant ruby coloured poinsettias his ex-girlfriend's mother was supposed to send.

The relationship has disintegrated before it could ever happen.

“Fuck, don’t know. She has a bunch of little tools down there for more detailed work. Maybe a stamp. You’d have to ask her.”

“It’s really pretty.”

His brows furrowed. “Yeah? You like ceramics or something?”

You turned back to him, shrugging.

“I don’t know. I was just saying, it’s pretty.”

“It is. It’s very pretty.”

With a sigh, you climbed back onto the couch.

“Do you think you’re done editing?”

He picked up the laptop and set it down on the coffee table.

“I think so. For the day.”

“Perfect.” You smiled. “I’ll make time to read your notes tomorrow morning, if I can. Seems like there’s about eight-hundred.”

Wonwoo chuckled, “not eight-hundred. Try twenty.”

“Twenty?!” Your eyes bulged in shock as you gripped onto the embroidered pillow hugged back into your lap. “That’s so many!”

“What—twenty is somehow more than eight-hundred? What fucking planet are you living on where numeracy works like that?”

“Wonwoo, I have so much to do tomorrow!” You winced, tossing your head against the couch and slipping down the cushions.

“Okay, like what?”

“… Gosh… no, no. Fuck it. It doesn’t matter.”

“No, tell me. What have you got to do tomorrow?”

“I don’t want to tell.”

“Why not?” He murmured.

“If I talk about, then I’ll want to do it even less.” There was an empty sigh he heard from your chest as your arms curled tight around the pillow. “Besides, it’s squished all into my colour-coded block on the schedule. The pink one. I just—I don’t want to think about it.”

“Fair. I get that.”

“It’s complicated family stuff.”

Wonwoo huffed sympathetically. “I get that even more.”

“… So, we’re still good for Spring Street on Sunday?” You asked, staring up at Wonwoo from your sunken, defeated slump.

He nodded.

“I’ll be there if you are.”

—MAY 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 “business” which really meant selling drugs for idiotic prices behind the Whirler or the Starship. You wanted to go, but hadn’t told Wonwoo the reason. He opted to assume it was another part of your story—maybe 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 he’d loathe it, every single part.

“No fuckin’ way!” Vernon’s voice exploded through the crackly static on Wonwoo’s phone as he stood in line for the fair, gazing over top everyone’s heads to gauge the ticket booth. “I can’t believe your loser ass actually crawled outta bed for that.”

Wonwoo scoffed, “yeah, it wasn’t my choice.”

“Then what for?”

“Her. She wanted to go. It’s for the book.”

He was supposed to meet you inside the fair. It was almost ten o’clock 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, who—shockingly—wasn’t even there.

“Ohh, the book, the book. Wait—she’s gonna write her book at the fuckin’ Spring Street Fair? How the fuck does that work?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Wonwoo chuckled. “It’s stuff about the settings, the environment; she uses it to help with her writing.”

“Hm, doesn’t make much sense to me, probably ‘cause I don’t like readin' or writin' or anything with books. But, damn, I’m jealous of you, Glasses. Do y’know how hard I tried to smooth talk my way into that girl’s pants? N’somehow, you can write good—”

“Write well, not good.”

“Oh, fuck you—write well—so she takes you everywhere like a little purse dog. When does that happen to me, yeah?”

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.

“Why didn’t you come?” Wonwoo asked.

Vernon groaned, “got into some bullshit with this guy who’s not payin’ up. I’m handlin’ it, though. If I can manage to get it all sorted, I’ll come later. It’s too fuckin’ easy selling those gummies to the first years, dude. Shit, it could be some Flintstone vitamins and they’re actin’ like Chicken Little. Cracks me the fuck up.”

Wonwoo cleared his throat, smiling. “You’re such a cunt.”

“Hey, hey, you are what you eat, okay? And, when you get inside or whatever, text me where you’re hangin’ so if I do come, I can see you for a bit. Dunno if your girlfriend will approve.”

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.

“Don’t even start.”

“Start what? I said nothin’.” Vernon’s laughter was raspy and obviously laced with a smirk that Wonwoo could hear.

“Don’t be such a prick. She’s not my—”

Suddenly, Wonwoo’s 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 wasn’t 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, “so, again, tell me where you’ll—”

“Shit—uh, gotta go. Talk to you later.”

A few remnants of Vernon’s 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.

“Wonwoo, hello. I’m glad you picked up. So, where the hell are you? It’s nearly ten! Did you not get in line early?”

Wonwoo kept the phone secured between his shoulder and ear while he shimmied the coins out from his wallet.

“No, I did, promise. Just about to pay. Where are you?”

“When you get in, just follow the arrows. They're lit up with those blue lightbulbs. They go to the tavern. I’m having some drinks with my friends. Don’t worry. You won’t have to do much socializing.”

“Uh, okay,” Wonwoo answered, internally counting up the money in his hand until he was certain of the amount. “Mingyu’s there?”

“No. He always plays poker with his friends on Sunday.”

An unbeknownst pressure escaped his chest.

“Okay. I’m close to the front. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Sure. Don’t be late!”

“I know. Bye.”

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 arrows—that 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 didn’t recognize. Eventually, he saw the tavern you were referring to—an 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 bar’s 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 someone’s 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.

“So, everyone, girls, if I could get your attention for just a moment despite the general impairment going on here—this is the mystery guy whose been helping me write. Wonwoo.”

God—he 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 girl’s 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.

“So, of course, Wonwoo’s been the biggest help with everything,” 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 didn’t seem so unprecedentedly stiff and metallic.

He cleared his throat.

“Uh, yeah. I’m just proofreading, really.” Wonwoo had to swallow. “Some tips here and there. But, she’s pretty good as is.”

“Is that your actual voice?”

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.

“… What do you mean?” 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.

“Your voice,” she repeated, “it’s so… deep.”

“Well… I don’t know. Puberty.”

His comment elicited some giggles from around the table, to which he could feel the cartilage in his ears burning.

“Wonwoo—” another girl then leaned forward with her head tilted up and a coy, drunk smile flittering on her mouth, “—I think it’s so, so great you’re helping Her write. I actually think it’s the sweetest, ever.” Her lashes were coated in smooth mascara and her eyelids were remarkably glimmery, drenched in an electric shade of blue that he couldn’t stop staring at. “Also, sorry, but you’re like, super gorge.”

“Super what?” 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.

“Okay, okay, okay. We’ve all shared some impetuous conversation and we’ve all swooned over him now. Yippee. Unfortunately, we’ve gotta get going, friends.”

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.

“To make a long story short, that’s Princess, Clara, and Bells. Do you have any comments for them before we go?” The impatience in your tone was bleeding through with sheer apathy.

Wonwoo shrugged. “Uh, nice to meet everyone? I guess.”

“Short and efficient. How perfect. Okay, I’ll see you guys later, I think. Actually—probably not. So can someone eat my churros?”

Your arm curled around Wonwoo’s bicep as though to whisk him away as hurriedly as possible. Everyone left at the table began waving, and Wonwoo couldn’t 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 standing—a 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.

“Sorry about all that,” you said, rolling your shoulders, “I tried to be somewhat reasonable with my drinking for once. I can’t say the same for Clara and Bells. They guzzle cocktails like apple juice.”

“Bells is… the one with all that sparkly blue eyeshadow?��

“Oh—yeah. She loves sparkles. Glitter. Anything glimmery. She’s been like that ever since I’ve 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 I’m sorry that Princess didn’t say anything. She kind of just looks and observes. Also I’m like ninety-eight percent sure she popped something in a porta-potty before we met up so she’s probably in a mental state of star-surfing. Anyway. You don’t have to worry about them, alright? It’s just us for tonight.”

 “Well, that’s… easy enough.”

“I’m not sure if we should stand here.”

“Hm?”

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.

“If I get throw up on my head, I’m killing myself.”

“Okay, so let’s find somewhere else.”

As he began walking away in search of a quieter area, you grabbed onto the back of his clothes. Wonwoo raised his eyebrow.

“We have to hold hands, or have arms linked,” 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 didn’t crack, he realized it wasn’t a joke at all.

“Oh… why?”

“Because—” you then took a step toward him and spoke matter-of-factly, like you were reading a rule book, “—it’s the buddy system. Always have someone at your side, and make sure you’re linked in some way. It’s too easy to get separated in places like this, otherwise. Have you never heard of that before?”

“I have,” Wonwoo answered, adjusting his glasses. “My—um, my hands are a little cold. I don’t have the best circulation.”

The truth was, Wonwoo didn’t want to hold your hand. He didn’t want to link arms with you. He didn’t want you pressed into his side all night. He didn’t 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 didn’t have a good enough excuse to fight it.

“Oh my god, who cares,” you retorted. “And I have super sweaty hands. Like, uncomfortably warm. We'll balance out.”

 “Actually?”

“Yes! Is that a problem for you, sweetheart?”

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 didn’t, and his knees felt like gelatine.

“I want another drink,” you told him.

He squinted at their options, which didn’t really consist of much. The prices were obviously insane—it was another reason he hated going to fairs. His wallet always got cleaned out.

“You’re going to have to use the washroom a lot.”

“Ugh,” you gritted in response, brushing some hair from your face, “I hate public washrooms. They’re 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. I’d 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.”

“Right now? I mean, your makeup looks fine.”

Wonwoo saw your entire face freeze, and then begin to warp, as though he’d just said the most dreadful thing he could think of.

“Fine?” You glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He started stumbling over his words, feeling his chest tighten.

“So, what you’re saying is that I look ugly? That my makeup looks bad? Because if you really thought it was ‘fine’ then you wouldn’t have said it looks ‘fine’ because everyone knows that word is a substitute for passable and passable is just a substitute for ugly!”

He opened his mouth, then instantly closed it.

“So what’s 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!”

“No, no, no.” Wonwoo squeezed your hand, hoping that he could somehow undo the damage he had no intention of even inflicting in the first place. “Uh—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. You look—” he wasn’t sure he could say the compliment without shivering, but Wonwoo didn’t care in the moment, “—your makeup is beautifully done. There’s no creasing or smudging, there’s none of that."

You kept touching worrisomely at your face. “Are you sure?”           

“I promise.” 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 didn’t seem to fit your image.

The line moved forward another step.

“Are you going to drink anything?” You asked after a moment of silence, in a quieter voice. “I want to get the strawberry refresher.”

“Maybe.”

“What will you get?”

“I… don’t know. A regular lemonade?”

“No,” you shook your head, pointing toward the corner of the booth’s menu, “get the pina colada thing. I want to try it, too.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo agreed with a shrug as he retrieved his wallet, not really caring about what he drank. “I’ll pay for it. No worries.”

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 didn’t know if it was a friend from earlier or perhaps your boyfriend, but Wonwoo wasn’t 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.

“So, uh, why are we here, exactly?”

You sniffled. “What do y’mean?”

“Does the fair have anything to do with your writing? Is that why we’re riding the Farris wheel? Oh—speaking of which, I didn’t think to bring the camcorder, in case you wanted any footage.”

“Oh, no,” you said, waving a dismissive hand, “this has nothing to do with my book. We’re palate cleansing.”

“Palate cleansing?” He echoed.

“Yeah. It’s 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. Y’know, shit like that.”

Wonwoo huffed in amusement. “You could have told me beforehand.”

“Uh, no—” your face scrunched up in clear disagreement, “—I couldn’t, because then you wouldn’t have gone. No offence, but you’re a hermit, Wonwoo. You don’t really like going anywhere or doing anything and you’re definitely one of those people who bores themselves into hating their own life because your stimuli is so limited. That’s why I didn’t tell. Again, no offence.”

“Oh.”

That was all he could string together in response—not 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 didn’t 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 Wonwoo’s drink.

“You can’t bring that with you,” he said.

Before Wonwoo could think to respond, you had already grabbed the cup from his hand, chucking it straight into the garbage.

“We’re not.”

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 it—though, 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.

“I guess I should have asked if you’re afraid of heights,” 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.

“Uh, no. I’m okay with heights,” he finally answered.

He saw you glancing down as well, smiling to yourself.

Wonwoo wasn’t sure if he should attempt at conversation or just maintain the stillness between you. Usually, he couldn’t 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 weren’t the best acquainted—that’s 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, unpredictable—Wonwoo 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 that—perfect. 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 weren’t 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 wasn’t squirming, wriggling, stressing at the silence. When he spoke, he did it because he genuinely wanted to.

“How was your Saturday?”

“My Saturday?”

“Yeah. I saw the schedule. You had to run a bunch of errands with your mom. Looked like you were pretty keyed up.”

“Oh, 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… yeah—I just—I squeezed them in between brunch with my mom’s friend who could talk herself to death and the excruciating car ride to the publisher’s office.”

“Mmhm.” Wonwoo smiled tenderly. “Did they help at all?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “a lot, actually… thank you.”

“I’m sorry your Saturday went so terribly.”

Huffing in response, you nibbled on your inner check.

“Yeah, 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.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Wonwoo recalled the memory of Seokmin picking up his leather notebook when it fell out from his bag one day. He’d pestered him about the contents until Wonwoo succumbed and presented him with some lifeless, impatiently scribbled prose that he’d 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 breathe—not one scent of the ink or even the paper.

“So, you write poetry?”

“I 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.”

“Yeah. Deciding to be a math major. I still don’t get it,” you sighed, fidgeting with some rings on your fingers. “But what do you even write about? Like, what’s your inspiration?”

Wonwoo paused, looking down at his knees.

“… Life.”

“Life?” You defeatedly slumped into the seat. “That’s the million dollar answer your intelligent brain chose to erect? It’s just that when I think about it, I’m letting you help me with my writing, but I’ve never even read a little smidgen of yours. How’s that fair?”

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.

“Well, you took Seokmin’s word for it,” Wonwoo laughed.

Your eyes rolled, but you smiled gently. “I know.”

Suddenly, your hand had reached out, and you were pushing the floppy, black tresses off his forehead. Wonwoo’s 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.

“Why don’t you ever push your hair back?”

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.

“Um…”

“If you styled it like this—” you moved in closer, staring with so much focus at your nimble movements, “—yeah, like that. It shows off your forehead, gives you a bit of class. I mean, the wind’s messing it up. You don’t tend to do anything with your hair.”

“No.” Wonwoo swallowed, hard.

“Well, you should. Not all the time, obviously. And I’m not saying you look bad with it down—not at all. But you’ve got nice, smouldering features and they’re so much more… framed… when you show your forehead.” 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. “I 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.”

He nearly choked. “Hot?”

It didn’t sound right. Not at all.

“Well, what the fuck, Wonwoo? You’re not ugly.”

“Did you think that when you first saw me?”

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.

“Did I think what? That you’re not ugly?”

“Never mind,” Wonwoo grimaced, hearing the cart creek as you better positioned yourself to face him. “It’s pathetic like that.”

“No. I didn’t think you were ugly. Did you think I was ugly?”

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 didn’t think you were ugly—he never had, even before he ever spoke to you. But he wasn’t so shallow as to only regard someone’s physical appearance. You were still terrifying.

“I wouldn’t consider anyone ugly... and I wouldn’t ever use it to describe some aesthetically. But—I mean, I think people can become ugly through their personality, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah, like, if they’re rotten inside.”

“Mmhm.”

“I agree.”

“What was that word your friend Bells said?”

You shrugged, “which word?”

“She said something like, you’re super… I don’t know… super something.”

“Oh—” you sat up more in the cart, your back pressed against the uncomfortable corner, “—Bells said you were super gorge.”

“Meaning…”

“Meaning super gorgeous.” You made a big show of the rehashed compliment, parroting your friend's tone and swaying your shoulders.

“Oh… really?” Wonwoo shook his head. “I thought she was referring to gorge as in when you gorge yourself, from eating.”

“No,” you giggled at him, “it’s a short form, dumb-dumb.”

“Why make a short form out of that? Is it really that strenuous to say the word gorgeous? It’s only an extra syllable.”

“Okay, well, this isn’t the nineteen-twenties. We don’t all cross our T’s and dot our I’s. It reminds me of how you text.”

He furrowed his brow. “How do I text?”

Your eyes rolled frivolously. “I dunno. Like you’re typing to a business colleague or something. You’re so formal. When I think of you texting, I imagine it’s like someone using a typewriter. And that funny little ding sound it makes whenever you start a new line.”

“Oh.”

“What—no one’s ever told you that before? No way.”

“That I text like I’m using a fucking typewriter? No, actually. I can’t say I’ve heard that.”

“Well, it’s not a big deal. You’re just not very plugged into the internet, I suppose. Which is a good thing. It gives you prestige.”

At that, Wonwoo chuckled. “Does it?”

“Yes,” you smiled, eyes full of starlight, “and—just 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.”

“Hm.”

You continued to stare at him with a plotting smile.

“Hm what? What’s the matter?” The metal of the cart squeaked as you leaned forward, your voice suddenly lathered in mischief. “Did you think she was cute?” He heard your tone drop, and your low, smooth voice breathing hot against his ear. “Did you think about fucking her, Wonwoo?”

“No—what the fuck—not at all.” Quickly, he’d 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 didn’t.

“Well, how would I know?” You answered, tilting your head and stretching out your arms high into the blackness, as though you were trying to reach for a star. “I never know, because you never look at me. It makes me think you just lied and you do think I’m ugly.”

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 didn’t 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?

“Hey, Wonwoo?” Your fingers snapped.

But he just kept thinking. Like he was cut from a separate cloth than you—the fabric of his universe wasn’t woven with yours and he could ruminate as much as he wanted to and it was impossible to hear your intrusions. Why couldn’t he look at you?

You intimidated him, yes. You scared him, double yes.

He already knew that. It couldn’t just be that.

“Wonwoo? God… you shut down over the simplest things.”

“I don’t know.”

You paused, staring him up and down, perplexed.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know why I can’t look at you.”

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 himself—to 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 hadn’t even realized that you’d shifted closer, one leg curled beneath you while you spoke at the side of his head. But he didn’t hear you, couldn’t see you—there 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.

And—all of a sudden—there 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 didn’t mean to. But you didn’t seem to care.

“—everything okay? Wonwoo? Do I need to like, call someone? Because you look like you’re going to be sick.”

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.

“Wonwoo?” 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.

“Sorry,” he then coughed through the heartbeat raspy in his throat, bringing the glasses back to his face, “I spaced out.”

“Spaced out?” You echoed. “That wasn’t spacing out.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He thought you fight might it.

“Well…” you sighed, glancing around uncertainly, “are you okay? Is there someone you want to call? I don’t know.”

But you didn’t. Thank God.

“No, I’m—” he stopped, gulping back the words.

“… Yeah?” 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.

“I’m fine.”

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 didn’t feel as scared.

—MAY 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 hadn’t been able to shake those comments you made—about 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 didn’t 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. It’s 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 he’d 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 hadn’t eaten yet today. The thought of a juicy, sauce-slathered, bun-toasted burger being his first meal prompted the boy’s face to sallow greenly with sickness, but the longer he stood in the washroom, combing and slicking and running styling balm through the black bird’s 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.

“Hey, fuck, I’m here.”

2:24 pm—that’s 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 wouldn’t be magic.

“Did you get pulled over or something? Police raid? Traffic stop?” Wonwoo asked, now resting his menu down flat.

Vernon laughed, shaking his head. “Uh, no. Couldn’t find my fuckin’ car keys,” he spoke in a breathless voice. “Sorry ‘bout it.”

“Couldn’t find them?” Wonwoo almost scoffed at the excuse while his friend began scouring his way through the menu. “Dude, they’re the fucking size of a bowling ball. How could you lose them?”

“Okay, okay. Fuckin’ skin me alive, why don’t you?”

“You didn’t come from your place, I’m guessing.”

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.

“No, I didn’t,” he rasped, flashing his sharp teeth and flipping the menu over, “but when Maleeha Rabia sends you a text at goddamn one in the morning of her tits, you don’t roll over n’ go to bed like some loser. Besides, my ecstasy was just sittin’ around and I had to use it one way or another. Anyway, doesn’t fuckin’ matter. I think I’ll get the Double Bacon Crunch Burger. Sounds good as hell.”

Finally, Vernon threw the menu down with conviction.

“Jesus Christ—” his copper-burnt eyes then flared open as he looked across the table at his friend, “—who the fuck are you?”

Wonwoo itched his nose. “Um, what?”

Vernon leaned forward, seeming captivated. “Uh, your fuckin’ hair? How’d you get it like that? It’s all brushed over and soft lookin’ and shit. I feel like I shouldn’t be sittin’ with you, Prince Charmin’.”

“I just put some balm in it, combed it around,” he answered, reaching for his drink. “Took me a humiliating amount of time.”

“Well, consider me starstruck. What’s made you do all that?”

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 Vernon’s root beer float, Wonwoo realized he still had to answer his friend’s question. He didn’t exactly want to tell the truth, because he knew Vernon would never let him hear the end of it, but Wonwoo also didn’t want to be too dishonest.

“Your face is doin’ that thing.”

“What thing?” 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.

“It’s ‘cause of your little girlyfriend, isn’t it?”

Fuck. Wonwoo should have just opened his mouth straight away and spieled out some quick-witted lie. Now he would be painfully subject to Vernon’s unfiltered teasing. Leaning back in his seat, Wonwoo unearthed a miserable sigh at Vernon’s smirk.

“You’ve gotta drop that bullshit.”

“It’s true,” Vernon pressured.

“No, it’s not.”

As though to interpret Wonwoo’s 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.

“Oh, Wonwoo, your hair looks so fucking sexy like that. It makes you look so perfect. You’re from my dreams. Please, just fuck me right here, right now so I can push my fingers through it ‘cause it’s so soft and silky and I’m basically in love with you.”

“Shut the fuck up. Please.”

“That was a good impression, though, wasn’t it?”

In the loud space of Wonwoo’s disgusted silence, the waitress placed Vernon’s drink onto the table and ensured the food would be coming soon. Vernon watched her walk away, back into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he then grinned in capitulating fashion, “take a stupid joke, alright? I know she’s not in love with you and she doesn’t wanna suck your dick—she’s got a fuckin’ boyfriend. If it makes you feel any better, I’m just projectin’ ‘cause you know I’m jealous.”

Wonwoo sucked in a sip from his coke, shaking his head.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vernon dismissed, poking his spoon at the near perfect scoop of vanilla ice cream afloat in the frosty mug, “but just so y’know, your mopey ass left me out to dry on Sunday night. Shoved me off the phone, didn’t respond to one of my texts. You’re lucky I even asked you t’hang today. Did she take your phone or something’?”

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 hadn’t been at all interested in starting the night with hostility.

“Okay, fair.” He admitted, rolling up his sleeves.

“And?” Vernon raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“I’m sorry.”

“There you fuckin’ go. That’s all I wanted t’hear, Glasses.”

The truth was, Wonwoo actually quite enjoyed his time with you that night—despite 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, you’d 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.

“Food’s on the way,” Vernon perked up like a child about to be served a slice of birthday cake as the waitress walked over with two full plates, “if you can’t finish yours, I’ll take it.”

“Yeah—how about you focus on chewing and not choking to death first,” Wonwoo sighed, watching his friend’s 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 didn’t singe the roof of his mouth. Wonwoo winced, instead going for his crisped, golden fries.  

“Damn. You’re really that hungry?”

“I’m ravenous,” Vernon mumbled, picking up a few caramelized onions that fell onto his plate. “Dude, I woke up at noon in Maleeha’s bed. She was out cold. Nothin’ in her pantry but some stale fuckin’ Fruit Loops that I may have tried. I’m a grown ass man. I need a meal.”

“I’m glad you’re 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 float’s ice cream. They scarcely talked in between, too focused on eating and drinking. Wonwoo pushed away his plate when he’d 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.

“Hey, do y’think they have any Life Savers?” He eventually piped up while sticking a toothpick into his mouth. “I want grape.”

Wonwoo scoffed, tossing the napkin onto his plate and taking out his phone. “Who the fuck likes grape?”

“Me, you smartass,” Vernon answered, turning backward in his seat and scanning the restaurant for any colourful candy bowls.

He couldn’t 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 today—work until five o’clock, 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 wouldn’t text anything. He would just stare and hope.

“Holy shit. Uh, oh my God. Wonwoo. I-I see—”

Vernon had suddenly reached a hand onto the table, slapping the lacquered wood a few times to garner his attention.

“What?” He mumbled in agitation, keeping his focus glued to the phone. “If you see the Life Savers just go up and take some. I swear, they’re not gonna fucking care you’re not twelve years old.”

“No, no, no, dumbass,” Vernon hissed, turning back around in the booth, his honey eyes glistering in oils of dread and panic. “Look, actually look. That’s Mingyu, isn’t it?”

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 boy’s wandering and earthen brown eyes.

“Oh my fuckin’ God, oh my fuckin’ God,” Vernon kept reiterating under his breath, bouncing his knee like an anxious student waiting for their test. “He definitely saw us. Or—he definitely saw you. This is so bad, man. I think he’s gonna rock me.”

“What?” Wonwoo whispered back harshly, attempting to float his gaze away from Mingyu in a casual manner. “For what reason?”

It seemed like Vernon almost wanted to gag at him. “Um—because of what fuckin’ happened between me n’ his girl! At that party? I told you about that shit, didn’t I?” He rasped from across the table, his bottom lip worried between biting teeth. “Dude, what if he tries to pull a fast one? You’re what—like six foot something? You have to help back me up. I can throw a pretty solid punch—even better when I’m shit-faced—but that might not be enough. Lady Liberty’s built like a brick.”

“Okay, you’re acting crazy,” Wonwoo uttered in disbelief. “I doubt he’s going to be anything but physical, especially in a public place. And, you said you didn’t know Her was in a relationship.”

“How the fuck do I know he knows that? Can’t exactly use my infectious charm on someone whose girlfriend I tried to rail.”

Vernon somehow dared to spare another rapid glance over his shoulder, only to shed an entire mould of colour from his complexion.

“He’s coming, he’s—”

“Shut up and relax,” Wonwoo mumbled. “I’m sure it’s nothing big—he’ll say a thing or two and be on his way. God, I’ll handle it.”

For some reason, Wonwoo thought he should be sinking into consternation a lot more than he actually was, but it’s not that his chest wasn’t thumping or his mind wasn’t 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 wasn’t 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.

“Hey, Wonwoo,” Mingyu approached the table with a confident, leisurely stride, extending his large hand for Wonwoo to grab, exchanging a dap. “I almost didn’t recognize you for a sec.”

“All good,” Wonwoo answered, attempting a polite grin that felt much more sweltering on the inside than out. “How’ve you been?”

Mingyu shrugged, burying his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants while he gazed at the slitted curtains for a moment, pondering his reply. “Decent. Playing a lot of basketball. I don’t think I’ve seen you since I came to the pharmacy. You still there?”

“Still there.”

“Well, at least I haven’t had to come in for a fuckin’ pregnancy test yet. That’s good I suppose, yeah?” The boy chuckled, then tilting his head a certain way to crack a stiff spot in his neck.

“Aisle five if you ever need it.”

Mingyu responded with a smirk that perhaps lasted a second too long, and these slimming, analyzing eyes—a 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 Wonwoo’s 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.

“You’re a pretty recognizable guy, unfortunately,” Mingyu acknowledged with a husky laugh—a clear reference to the boy’s identifying tattoos and numerous facial piercings, “I think you deal to at least a third of my friends. It’s Vernon, right?”

“Mmhm. Yes sir.” To Vernon’s 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.

“I’m sorry about Dots.”

“Oh, uh. All good. It is what it is, y’know?”

Mingyu nodded.

“Hey—those tattoos are crazy good. Where’d you get them?”

Vernon looked across his arm. “Thanks. Mostly Liquid Impact—dude there that I call Funfetti ‘cause he eats Funfetti box cake all the time. Uh, but his actual name’s like, Axel or some white-boy shit like that. He’s done a majority of it. The others—man, I don’t know. Half the time I’m off my fuckin’ face and wake up with shit I never remember.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mingyu sniffed, running a hand through his long, shiny onyx locks of hair. “Guess you also don’t remember promising my girlfriend the best sex of her life, right?”

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 Vernon’s eyes. The atmosphere hit the ground with a palpable and ugly shatter.

“Yeah, um—about that—”

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.

“Nah, nah. I’m playing around,” the boy chuckled, rubbing at his nose. “You didn’t know she was taken. No hard feelings, yeah?”

Vernon immediately nodded his agreement, and the tension nailed into his broad shoulder line seemed to melt. “For sure. No hard feelings. I mean, she’s beautiful. Can’t even imagine what it’s like bein’ her boyfriend when you’ve got sluts like me around.”

Mingyu grinned, “no, you’re good. I know she gave you some attitude about it. Bit of a troublemaker herself. But, yeah. Water under the bridge.” The boy’s attention then turned back to Wonwoo, who was more than eager to somehow extinguish the conversation from you as a topic. “I know she’s hangs out with you right now.”

“Oh, yeah,” Wonwoo hummed, “the book thing.”

“She doesn’t like talking to me about it.”

“Well, don’t stress,” he answered, catching the sunlight that blitzed through the curtains and dipped like a gold paintbrush into the boy’s eyes, turning them to warm molasses, “she’ll show you the whole damn thing when it’s over and done with.”

Mingyu huffed, “I thought she’d have dropped it by now.”

“I don’t think she will. She’s pretty committed.”

“Hm.” 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. “You got any plans for the summer, then? Doesn’t your pal always throw a huge party?”

“Yeah, actually. Doing it this year if we can manage. Seungcheol’s parents pretty much spend their entire summer bouncing around all the Great Lakes. We’re gonna do a co-hosting type deal and—shit, since you’re here, this is really good timing.” Mingyu then looked down at Vernon and lowered his gravelly voice. “I know what your main gig is. What about blow? You sell it?”

A slow but gradual, catlike grin trudged the edges of Vernon’s mouth, to which he pulled out his toothpick and set his elbows onto the table. “Look, can’t 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.”

“Nah, that’s fine. It’s just—my last plug fell through.”

“Tough.”

“Yeah. Okay, well, I should get going. I’ll follow up with you later. Do you care if Seungcheol knows the number, too?”

“No,” Vernon shrugged, planting the toothpick into the corner of his mouth and flicking it with his tongue, “just don’t go throwin’ it around. I could only get enough for a couple people, anyway.”

“All good. Okay—later, guys.”

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 boy’s 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.

“Y’know, he’s not that fuckin’ bad,” Vernon commented, “I mean, he scares the shit outta me, but that could have gone worse.”

"Jesus Christ—I can’t believe what I just watched.”

His friend laughed, banging his fist excitedly enough on the table to engender the silverware clattering on their plates. “Ha! I know, right? Dude—Seungcheol and Mingyu are the kingpins of that fuckin’ 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 roster—actually, that couldn’t have gone better.”

“And where are you gonna get it?” Wonwoo pressured, at last settling his glasses back on, clarifying Vernon’s smudged, blurry face.

“Well, let me fuck around and work my magic.”

“I don’t want him to use you.”

“Pfft. I don’t give no fucks about being used,” Vernon cackled, wearing a self-indulgent, luminous smile and continuing to play around with the toothpick while he readied his wallet to pay. “You know what you should worry about, Glasses? Sweet talkin’ the fuck outta that dude’s girl and securin' yourself an invite. You probably don’t even need to try sweet talkin’—she obviously likes you.”

“No,” Wonwoo grumbled, “no way.”

“You don’t want to go?”

“Why would I want to go, dumbass? The last time I went to a party, I ran into you. They’re loud and suffocating. I’ll pass.” Wonwoo also pulled out his wallet, taking his card. “Besides, I get the sense Mingyu doesn’t trust me a whole lot. I’m not gonna stir the pot.”

Vernon shook his head. “You stir the pot every time you hang out with his girl to go write romantic poetry and run around, gigglin’ at Spring Street. N’yeah, exactly. You met me. I don’t get the fuss.”

“It’s nothing like that," Wonwoo answered in frustration.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a Patron Saint. I just want my Life Saver.”

—MAY 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.  

He did know one thing for certain—the 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 wasn’t 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 marble—the 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 ]: I’m 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 ]: what’s wrong?

[ Wonwoo | 9:52 am ]: Nothing much. Just a headache.

When he didn’t 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 again—the 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 couldn’t 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 couldn’t 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 words—not 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.

“You made good timing. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks,” Wonwoo answered while stepping inside, toeing off his sneakers next to your plethora of shoes at the doormat.

“I 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?”

“Dry swallow?” Wonwoo laughed, following you toward the kitchen area. “Who the fuck dry swallows any sort of pill?”

“I don’t know! Personally, I don’t. But there are some freaks out there who do. I was actually testing you. And you passed.”

“Lucky me,” 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, gorgeous—the 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 didn’t 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.

“So, is it really bad?”

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.

“I felt it when I woke up. But it’s manageable.”

“Oh, I get that sometimes.”

“It’s because of my repulsive sleep schedule, no doubt.”

You smiled at him, adjusting your leg under the island.

“Is that why you prefer afternoons all the time?”

“Pretty much. It’s a horrible habit. I’ll break it somehow, I’m sure. Just a stupid hump to get over. Anyway—” Wonwoo slung the laptop bag off his shoulder and onto the counter, “—your place looks pretty sweet. How are you? What’s the plan for today?”

“Well,” you hummed, slapping an arm down onto the reflective granite, “I’ve wrote some more this week. I’d love for you to proofread it. Maybe we can go out for lunch later, but you’d need to give me time to get ready. I mean, I did shower this morning…”

He watched you pause, and then swallow. "You don’t care, do you?”

“About what?” Wonwoo answered.

“Oh, well—never mind, then.”

“No, what is it? What don’t I care about?”

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.

“… I look like a mole.”

He at last realized what you meant.

“No, you don’t.”

“I was just feeling lazy. I know, gasp, what an insane word to come from my mouth. But I’m glad you don’t care. I didn’t think you would, but I still wasn’t sure. At least your reaction wasn’t obvious. My chin is breaking out so please don’t stare at it, if you can help it.”

“Oh, well, you know, you look—” that one banished word almost slipped, but Wonwoo smoothly mended the break, “you—you have nothing to worry about. I get breakouts, too. It sucks, but it’s life.”

Your bare, soft face turned cheerful in a fawning smile.

“I 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?”

Wonwoo leaned back in the small seat, running his hands up his knees, knowing damn well he hadn’t eaten breakfast.

“Uh, I should probably start with like, cereal or something.”

“You didn’t eat?”

“No appetite.”

“I’ll 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?”

At the mere mention of orange juice, his fist clenched. Attempting not to dwell so obviously, Wonwoo straightened up and smiled.

“I like toast.”

“That’s good. It’ll be easy on your stomach.”

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 Mingyu—just as you’d warned—but 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.

“Done, for the most part.”

Your head perked up, and he was relieved to see you hadn’t fallen asleep or suffocated. “When will you add your notes?”

“After lunch. Is that okay?”

“Mmhm.”

“So…” Wonwoo slid down in the chair, reaching out his arms with a gigantic yawn, “you actually snuck into his basketball game?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, letting your chin snuggle into the blanket strewn underneath you, “I was obsessed with him. I couldn’t help it.”

“I wouldn’t expect your first date to be at the nature museum. The way you wrote about the butterfly exhibit was nice, though.”

“It was fun. Mingyu wasn’t 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 whale’s ballad—” 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, “—it used to scare Mingyu so bad. He kept telling me he was gonna leave our date unless we went to another exhibit.”

“The sound can be pretty jarring if you’ve never heard it before, to be fair,” Wonwoo reasoned, now massaging down his legs.

Shoving your body to sit upright on the couch, you poked out your tongue at him, grinning, “don’t defend his loserness.”

He huffed in response, “my bad.”

“Should we do a tour now? I really want to show you my room. And if I keep lying on the couch, I’ll fall asleep.”

“Uh, sure. Do you want me to wash my plate?”

“No, no, it’s fine. Just leave it in the sink.”

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.

“There’s a nature museum here, too.”

You grabbed the blanket, wearing it like a shawl around your shoulders. Wonwoo had never seen you so sleepy before.

“I know.”

“Have you ever gone?”

“No. 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.”

Wonwoo scratched along his collarbone, heated with the itch of being blatantly exposed for his plotting. However, he hadn’t 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 it—like a palate cleanser, as you had previously mentioned.

But he obviously wasn’t going to articulate that.

“We can plan it more later,” 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 Mingyu’s 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.

“Oh, I don’t actually look after those,” you answered, touching at one of the heavy and balmy-looking green leaves from a plant nearly as tall as you, “Seokmin comes over to water them and stuff, gives them special nutrient food—even sprays their leaves with this misty bottle thing. I tried giving them all to him, but he says he’s got no space at his apartment—which is total bull by the way.”

“Maybe he just wants an excuse to see you.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes, “doesn’t everyone?”

Wonwoo bit back a stupid little smile as he followed you into your bedroom—the 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 who’d just performed the most grandiose magic trick.

“Tada! Bedroom reveal!”

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 outfits—skirts 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.

“This is my favourite part,” you hummed.

Taking some further steps into the bedroom, Wonwoo began recognizing smaller details, though he couldn’t 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 person’s essence that couldn’t be captured using words alone. To sit on someone’s bed, or sift through their drawers for a pen, or even grab a shirt from their closet—he felt it was all so… sacred. It was the reason he had such a hard time having others in his bedroom.

“The bed is your favourite?” He wondered.

“Yes,” 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.

“You could have just asked me to sit,” he chuckled, wiping some wrinkles off his shirt and adjusting his glasses.

“Nope.”

“Bed’s comfy.”

“Duh,” you sunk backward, smirking at him, “it’s a bed.”

“Hey, 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 didn’t get better for years.”

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 Wonwoo’s chest that he had just spoke about himself—actually spoke about himself—in a manner that screamed of vulnerability. He felt terror. Why did he do that?

“Hm. I guess I’m just spoiled, with my memory foam and all.”

At least you didn’t 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.

“Your room’s nice. It smells like you.”

He heard you giggle, “what? Like strawberries?”

Wonwoo pursed his lip, looked down at his fingers. “Yeah…”

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 he’d won you at the Spring Street Fair, sitting atop your bedside table.

“You’ve still got that?”

“Hm?” You pushed up onto your elbows, yawning. “Oh, yeah! ‘Course I still have her. It’s a perfect little memento from that night.”

“Well, I did go through a lot of effort to win it.”

“Oh, I’m aware... wanna know what I named her?”

“What?”

“Miss Priss.”

Honestly, Wonwoo was surprised you hadn’t stuffed it into your closet or abandoned the toy in some innocuous corner of your apartment. Instead the bear’s vibrant pink face and slightly lopsided eyes were staring him down, making him rerun Vernon’s words in his head: ‘you stir the pot every time you hang out with his girl to go write romantic poetry and run around, gigglin’ at Spring Street.’

Wonwoo immediately shoved the memory aside, letting the implications sizzle up and burn on the hot coals of his brain.

“Hm. Funny.”

You rolled your eyes.

Wonwoo tapped his wrist, thinking.

“So, uh, I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but why don’t you live with Mingyu? I know he stays over some nights.”

Lifting yourself up with one arm, you shrugged, opting to stroke a hand along the blanket to smooth out some crinkles. “I don’t want to move in with anyone unless I’m engaged.”

“Actually?”

“Yeah. 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. He’s got an extra key and everything, his own nightstand, bathroom stuff.”

“And that’s for certain?”

You tilted your head. “What’s for certain?”

“The engagement thing. Or was it just to shake off your parents?”

“Well… I guess I mean it. Is that weird to you?”

“No,” Wonwoo said. “I personally haven't heard it plenty.”

“Yeah, most people are surprised to learn we don’t 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."

“Well, I understand it—wanting 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.”

You cracked a smile at him. “What have you learned?”

Wonwoo chuckled, knowing all the things he could never say were tingling right on the tip of his tongue. “Well, I meant in a general sense. I wasn't exactly talking about myself.”

“Ha—you learned how to be a hermit.”

“I'm pretty sure I was always like that.”

“Yeah, but probably not that bad.”

“That bad?” He furrowed his dark brows at you, staring straight into your eyes that twinkled with challenge. “Meaning what?”

“Please, you would not leave that apartment if it wasn’t for your commitment to the book. Maybe for work, some groceries every now and then. Otherwise, your ass is not leaving.”

“Damn. Just call me a loser.”

“Fine,” you huffed, pushing up onto your knees, “loser.”

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 it—the feeling of being listened to and experiencing someone’s 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 wouldn’t 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.

“Did you want to—”

“Hey, wait, wait, wait—” Wonwoo felt your hand curl around his bicep in a firm grip and begin to pull him back down, “—before we get up and everything, I want to talk to you about something.”

Oh no.

His stomach writhed.

Wonwoo started praying it wasn’t about his and Vernon’s encounter with Mingyu at Solar Pop—not that anything particularly terrible or concerning had happened—but maybe Mingyu had mentioned something to you. Maybe he didn’t 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.

“Why do you look so worried, already?” You chuckled in a quiet voice, rubbing his arm until Wonwoo visibly relaxed. “I haven’t even said anything yet. Unless, you think I should be worried, too.”

“No.” Wonwoo shook his head. “Just—never mind.”

“Hm, well, that’s kind of what I want to talk about.”

As your hand drifted off his arm, Wonwoo sat crossed-legged, narrowing his eyes at you in question. “What do you mean?”

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.

“Well… there’s no easy way to bring it up. And I’m not sure you’ll even want to talk about it with me, but I keep noticing it, again and again. I think it’s at least worth it to put it on the table. And, if it’s not my business, you can freely tell me to screw off.”

“Oh… okay.”

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.

“Do you… do you have anxiety?”

Wonwoo said nothing. He wasn’t sure if it was an issue of not wanting to speak or being unable to.

You breathed out heavily in response.

“Okay, silence, I definitely saw that coming—but, um, I’m 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 and—anyway—I just… I can tell when it happens and it kind of bothers me that you try to like, shrug it off or call it ‘spacing out’ when it’s really clearly not. And, maybe that’s my fault.”

His gaze had shifted to lock with yours.

Again, you weren’t staring at him with any malice or dejection—he’d 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 couldn’t 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.

“Is it my fault you don’t want to talk about it? Can I at least know that much?” There was an imploring desperation in your face.

Wonwoo at last cleared his throat.

“I don’t talk about it with anyone.”

“Okay, I get that. But, did I make you feel like you couldn’t bring it up? At all?” Your fingers dug a little harder into his knee, though Wonwoo knew you probably hadn’t realized it. “I just—I 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.”

He nodded, cracking his knuckles.

“I mean… I definitely wouldn’t have thought to bring it up with you. I guess I felt like, if I did, what would it accomplish? You might think I’m incapable or… I don’t know.” He shoved his hands underneath his glasses, rubbing at the indents on his nose. “As you can see, I’m not the best at talking about it. I don’t talk about it.”

You folded your legs in similar fashion to Wonwoo.

“Well… um… do you… is there anyone that could, like… I don’t know what I’m saying. I guess, are you coping alright, is what I’m asking. I really don’t mean to overstep. I swear.”

At that, he chuckled quite loudly. Your face twitched in surprise at his reaction, and the hand slipped off his knee.

“It really doesn’t matter. I just deal with it.”

No. He took nothing. He did nothing. Wonwoo just sat and suffered and felt no initiative to help himself. At that point, he really didn’t 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 weren’t important if he was going to end up back in the same slippery trench.

“Oh. Well, I hope you take care of yourself,” you said with a smile, giving his bicep another gentle squeeze. “That’s all.”

—JUNE 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?"

“Can I see your laptop?”

“No—hey! Don’t try to grab it!”

“Why? Because you’ve written fuck all?”

"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, and—"

"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 Mooney’s Bay, one of the most well-known beaches outside the city—probably because the lake actually looked a clean, salty blue and the soft sand wasn’t 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 Wonwoo’s bedroom. However, Wonwoo hadn’t 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 Mooney’s 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 other’s 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.

“It feels amazing! You should come in!”

“I can’t. It’ll ruin the camcorder.”

“So put it down! In the bag! There’s enough footage.”

“But the sun is setting behind you. It makes for a good shot.”

"So just hurry up! The water is the perfect temperature."

"But—"

“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.”

"Well, I don't know... I, uh—I 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."

“… Fine. At least give me a second to fix my pants.”

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, he’d 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 you—he 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 Mingyu—or, 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.

“Hey—sorry to intrude—and this may be a super dumb question, but you are guys together?”

“No, no. Not at all. I’ve got a boyfriend. He’s single.”

“Oh, perfect. I was just—I was sitting over there, in the corner with my friends, if you can see. Anyways—I said something dumb about how you were really good looking, and now I’ve been dared to come up and ask for your number. So, um, yeah…”

“No, I’m good. Thank you.”

“O-Oh. Wait… are you… being serious?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Sorry. This is really fucking embarrassing… uh, I guess I won’t linger then. Bye.”

“… Jeez… had a bit much to drink or something?”

“No—just don’t like giving out my number to strangers.”

“She was cute, though. Probably a fun one-night stand.”

“Then you have sex with her, yeah?”

“Ha! You’re so funny. When’s the last time you even had sex? I mean, you obviously pull. At least, I think you do…”

“I don’t remember. Months and months ago, I guess.”

“Wow! Zero play. I kind of respect it. I could never, though. So… actually, let me guess: you’re the type of person that can’t have sex without attachment? You need to be in love?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just asking.”

“I don’t know.”

“God. You’re so fucking boring, Wonwoo.”

“Because I don’t go out of my way to find some pretty girl to have sex with every week, I’m boring? How does that make sense?”

“No, not that. I mean the fact you never really want to discuss anything about yourself. Honestly, sometimes talking to you is like pulling teeth, y’know? 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.”

The most recent place you had been together was the popular drive-in at Richmond’s 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 hadn’t 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 wouldn’t ask him again this year—then 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, he’d taken you to see Crazy, Stupid, Love before you two had departed your hometown for university. But the drive-in obviously wasn’t 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 hadn’t 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 night—and way past your typical good girl bedtime—you were worried about falling asleep halfway into the movie, though Wonwoo promised he would keep an eye on you to ensure you wouldn’t 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 movie—first, it’s too hot, now, it’s too cold, you’re too close to me, you’re too far away and I’m cold again, I need the blanket, I don’t want the blanket—Wonwoo hadn’t realized a person’s body temperature could fluctuate that drastically. 

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: “is it okay if I rest my head on your shoulder for a few minutes?”

Wonwoo had wanted to say no—of course you can’t, 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 I’ll think about for the next three days no matter what I do to mask the memory. I’ll 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.

“You’re so tense,” you had whispered in a giggle, “if it makes you uncomfortable, I don’t have to. It’s just because I’m tired.”

“No—” it had come out somewhat like a blurt, and Wonwoo just knew the tips of his ears were tingling red, “—it’s okay. I promise.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure… what?”

“Just wanted to look in your eyes when you said it.”

“Fuck, not that again.”

“I have to know!”

“Okay, that’s fine. Movie’s almost over, anyway. Just don’t fall asleep because then I really won’t know what to do.”

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 fingers—the second one he prepared, mostly out of impatience—drawing 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.

“You’re so fucking full of it,” Wonwoo laughed.

“No! I’m not.”

“You did not write thirty pages in a day.”

“Uh—actually, I did! And the fact you don’t believe me is a testament to your own wilted motivation. I am very motivated.”

He smiled at the sound of your voice crackling through his phone, which he’d 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.

“Okay, you wrote thirty pages. Didn’t have to fucking drag my career through the mud in doing so. I mean, I guess it’s a hobby.”

“For all I know, you’re the biggest poser that ever posed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I still don’t know what you write about.”

“I told you.”

“No—you fucking didn’t. 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.”

“I give you pretty good notes, though.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“So I must be decent.”

“I don’t even know why I bothered calling you. I was supposed to be in bed, like, an hour ago. You’re such a distraction.”

“Fuck,” Wonwoo laughed, tapping the warm blunt to knock off a clump of papery ash, “it’s been an hour already?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t know why you called either.”

“To complain about that lady whose makeup I had to do today! She was horrible. God, were you not listening?!”

“No, no, I was. She told you the makeup she wanted, you said it wouldn’t suit her too well, and then she got all pissed off when it looked exactly how you said it would. That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh. Well… I just thought you should know about it.”

“Mmhm.”

Silence followed his velvet, almost teasing hum, but Wonwoo didn’t mind it, and he assumed you didn’t either. Your phone call had been completely out of the blue, only a few minutes after he’d climbed onto the roof and started sparking his lighter. An hour had already passed—Wonwoo couldn’t believe it. Time had never seemed so blurred and insignificant before, like tomorrow didn’t exist at all.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Wonwoo repositioned the phone in his hand.

“From time to time, yeah.”

“What strain?”

“Northern Lights.”

“I’ve never had that one. I mean, I’m not much of a stoner, and neither is Mingyu. I don’t like the way it feels in my throat—that dry, burning feeling. And I hate the cotton mouth afterward.”

“Shouldn’t be that bad if you’re inhaling it right.”

“Well, maybe you can teach me one day.”

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.

“Do you, uh… do you still want to go to that museum?”

“Oh—the nature museum?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll have to do some poking around in my schedule. I have this stupid leadership council meeting for SSA that I have to go to.”

“That’s fine. Text me when you figure it out.”

“Okay… gosh, it’s really fucking late.”

“Yeah, you should get some sleep.”

“Are you pushing me off the phone? If anything, I should be the one pushing. You’re not doing anything to fix your terrible sleep schedule. And I certainly don’t want you to ruin mine.”

“That’s what I’m saying—you need to get some sleep.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“How did I say it?”

“Like you were pushing me off the phone!”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. How ‘bout this: I know how important structure is to you, and I am deeply concerned that this late night conversation we’re having may somewhat affect your sleep. And while I’ve thoroughly enjoyed talking to you and hearing your pretty voice through my shitty phone speaker, I think we should both go to bed.”

“That seems fair.”

“Great. So, goodnight then.”

“No! I want to be the first one to say goodnight.”

“Why?”

“Because, I say goodnight, then you say goodnight back, and then I get to be the one who hangs up first. It’s a courtesy thing.”

“Uh, okay then... I’m listening.”

“Goodnight!”

Wonwoo smiled. He smiled so fucking widely and brightly that he could feel the muscles in his face aching.

“Goodnight.”

—JUNE 7TH.

Since the quickest route to the nature museum was about half an hour from Wonwoo’s apartment, he suggested that you stop by around lunch time so that you two could make the walk together. It wasn’t too warm outside—the large smattering of clouds dotted in the sky and the typical city breeze helped to keep the temperature down.

“We’re not allowed to film in the museum,” you said from your seat at his small dinner table, “so don’t bother taking the camcorder, I guess. I’ll just try to soak up everything as best I can.”

Wonwoo was sat across from you, waiting for you to finish the heated-up carton box of creamy mushroom pasta that you’d raided out his freezer. He’d 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.

“If you really needed to, I’m sure you could take a couple pictures,” Wonwoo answered, brushing a hand through his styled, pristine black hair that you had earlier littered with a flustering spiel of compliments. “I doubt the exhibits will be exactly the same, but if it's more so to capture the feeling, then it won’t matter much.”

You patted the corner of your mouth upon finishing the last few noodles left in the box, nodding your head in agreement.

“My journal’s in my bag. It should be fine.”

Wonwoo flipped over his phone to check the time.

“How was the SSA meeting yesterday?”

“Oh—I didn’t go.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asked while settling back in his chair, watching you toss the fork into the carton. “How come?”

“Because, it’s 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 they’re legitimately consuming our input, using phrases like: ‘oh, we hear you, we understand, we’re gonna try our hardest’—just for them to put, what? Another fucking seating area in the dining hall that no one asked for or cares about? It’s totally ridiculous.”

“Hm, yeah.”

“Anyways, I hate being on it. I hate going. I understand it looks good and whatnot, but it’s a huge waste of my time.”

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.

“It’s one meeting. A skip won’t kill you, or them.”

“That’s what I’m saying. Mingyu thinks I went, though. So, if you run into him or something and the topic fucking miraculously pops up—just don’t give anything away. It’s a little white lie.”

Coming back to the dining table, Wonwoo snatched up his wallet and shoved it into his back pocket, raising an eyebrow.

“Why wouldn’t you tell him?”

You pushed back in the chair, sighing heavily.

“He really thinks I should stick with it.”

Wonwoo didn’t 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.

“Okay,” you then smiled, “let’s go look at some nature.”

Despite their boring, lacklustre reputation, Wonwoo had always enjoyed going to museums—art, history, science—he’d 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.

“Why wouldn’t I like museums?” You had stopped just before the acclaimed beetle species wall, aglow behind a glass sheet. “I wrote in my draft that Mingyu and I went to a nature museum, remember?”

“I know. I’m just surprised you have that much of an interest in them. Your life seems so upbeat. I didn’t think you would be into something that most people find fairly dry and anticlimactic.”

“Right.” Twirling back around, you continued walking down the corridor, your eyes tracing the organized arrangement of lustre-shelled beetles. “Because everyone else is too stupid and you’re the true upper echelon who actually possesses the mental capability required to appreciate something as seemingly trivial but totally enriching as…” you then paused at the glass, squinting to read the embossed label below an oblong-shaped beetle with an iridescent green shell, “… as the Chrysochroa Fulgidissima? I don’t know, something like that—also known as the Jewel Beetle. Its species is native to Japan and Korea. It’s a… woodboring beetle?”

“Why would I know?” Wonwoo laughed, coming to stand beside you and look at the plaque settled to the white background behind the display glass. “You’re the one reading it.”

“Ugh—doesn’t matter. I was going somewhere with my speech and now I forget… oh, yeah! So, you think you’re smarter than me?”

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.

“I never said that,” he answered softly.

“Okay—but, do you think you’re smarter?”

“In what sense?”

“Did you take the Frontiers evaluation for calculus?”

“Yes.”

“What’d you score?”

“9.8.”

“Shut the fuck up! No you didn’t.”

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.

“Prove it,” you whispered.

“Go to prof Bradbrook’s office. My name’s on her wall.”

“I hate you.”

“Why? What did you score?”

“I’m obviously not going to say it now.”

Wonwoo still remembered the day his test score came back—he’d opened the envelope in Miss Bradbrook’s 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 moment—overjoyed probably—to realize his notable success and the upstanding conformation he was legitimately good at something. But in truth, he hadn’t 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 girlfriend—but even she couldn’t imbue much from him that day.

“Well, that’s not what I expected you to ask.”

You glanced over at him, adjusting the bag on your arm.

“Meaning?”

“There are different types of intelligence. I thought you meant, in a more general sense, am I smarter, or more knowledgeable. To be honest, I can’t say. I mean, I feel like I’ve experienced and seen a whole lot, but that’s just life’s illusion.”

“You won’t really know ‘til you’re on your death bed.”

Wonwoo returned your glance, squinching his brown eyes in a judgemental but innocuous way that gave bloom to his smile.

“Thanks.”

“I can’t help it. Museums make me think of death. I think it’s the really cold, still air. Especially in nature museums where they need to preserve things. Like, look at that fox. It’s a bit ominous.”

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 meant—it was the eyes, like two leaf green beads, so immensely detailed but lifeless to an almost uncomfortable degree.

“I want to see the aquarium exhibit next,” you said, tugging twice at Wonwoo’s sleeve. “I heard it’s really dark in there.”

“Well, we can go take a look.”

“And we can eat afterward? There’s an atrium.”

“Sure.”

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 lights—deep, 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, “I think that was in Finding Nemo,” 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 wasn’t a mouthful of liquid and sea salt, or that his body wasn’t miraculously suspended and floating about in the echoey shadows.

And that’s when Wonwoo decided he liked the aquatic exhibit very much—more 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.

“Want to know something?” He asked.

You stared back at Wonwoo with an intrigued pique of your brow.

“Like what?”

“Well, first of all, we both took creative writing, you know.”

"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."

“I 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.” Looking down at his hands again, Wonwoo smiled at recalling the memory. “You absolutely terrified me. I don’t even think you understand how much I wanted to avoid you.”

He caught your eyes, shimmering like the water-stained floor, with an emotion he couldn’t place.

“Actually?” Was all you said, hardly sounding surprised.

“Yeah.”

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.

“I can’t really remember what was going through my head that day. I know I’d 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 I’d be downright exhausted, and the next morning, I’d have to wake up early to attend some bullshit press, social, interview breakfast thing for my mom’s new lifestyle magazine. Having that idiot sit in my favourite seat was probably just the straw that broke the camel’s back, I guess.”

“Hm,” Wonwoo hummed, suddenly experiencing a profound sympathy for you that he never imagined he would feel. “When you give it a bit more perspective, it doesn’t sound so…”

“Completely and utterly bitchy?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to use that word, but, sure.”

You grinned at him through the dusky rippling of auroras that flitted across the exhibit, seeming like you were under the sea—and he was, too, sitting side by side in the somehow peaceful depths of the chaotic whirlpool that had pulled you two together.

“I have a memory.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo returned your grin, “I want to hear it.”

“So, remember earlier how we were talking about the Frontiers evaluation for Bradbrook’s calculus class?”

“Mmhm.”

"So, after all the Frontiers scores came out, I'm not gonna lie—I 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 know—just 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.

“I hate people like you.”

And Wonwoo laughed back. “Meaning?”

“Things come to you so naturally. You don’t have to try.”

“Sure,” Wonwoo agreed, scratching his nose and proceeding to nudge up his glasses, “things like mathematics, numbers, problem solving, taking something whole apart and then looking at its pieces. I guess it does come to me naturally. I can’t complain. But there are also plenty of things that don’t. And… if I could, I’d probably trade all my stupid math and logic and puzzling for what I’m missing.”

You tilted your head, staring intently at Wonwoo through the blue sea between you, almost into his brain, it felt like.

“What are you missing?”

At first, Wonwoo didn’t respond. To answer your question meant an intimate exhumation of the flaws that he’d 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 didn’t want to turn the rock.

Not at all.

“A plethora of things, I’m sure.”

Squeezing onto your wrist, you smiled at him.

“I think I’m the opposite.”

“How so?”

He watched you inhale a long, slow breath, and then huff it all out through your nose. Wonwoo bumped his knee against yours.

“You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

“No, no. It’s not like that…”

Looking up to the glowing aquarium, the dull light reflected back unto your face, and Wonwoo again saw the glisten in your eyes.

“I just feel…” for a moment, your chest stilled, “… I feel like I’m 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 it’s going to create this beautiful, never-before-seen new colour? But, instead, it’s just greyish-brownish, nothing.”

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.

“And—” you swallowed tightly, and it sounded so painfully dry with stinging emotion, “—I just don’t want people to see that I’m so much of nothing. I just find myself covering it all up.”

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, others—a reassuring stroke on the back, maybe some uplifting monologue. Or, maybe, they didn’t want to be touched at all. They just desired the simple, thinking silence and all its clarity. He remembered you saying something about it—that 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 he’d 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 there—it 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 life—that 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 atrium’s 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.

“Jeez, is it going to rain?”

“It could,” Wonwoo sighed. “It very possibly could.”

“I swear. I obsessively check the forecast in order to plan all my outfits around it. It never said it would rain!” You then threw the bottle of iced tea you’d been drinking into the garbage with an aggressive slam. “This shirt is a horrible choice. It will be stupidly see-through."

Wonwoo glanced around the atrium.

“There’s lots of empty tables. If we want to sit and wait it out, then I don’t think anyone would get mad. But, I mean, it’s up to you.”

“Why’s it up to me?”

“I don’t know. Just—if you don’t want to get your outfit all soaked. I’m sure if we left now, we could make good distance before it really started raining. I’m not opposed to getting a little wet. But I have no issue with staying here and letting the clouds go over.”

You folded your arms, and your head fell to the side. He’d seen that look before. It was your own patented prelude to disaster.

“I never said I was opposed to getting wet.”

He laughed. “Well, you certainly insinuated it.”

“Do you think I'm some sort of whiny little priss?”

"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 didn’t. He then thought about trying to tenderly explain his way out of it with his smooth words. As much as he would think he’d 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.

“Okay. Let’s go, then.”

He reached out his hand for you to grab.

“As if,” you scoffed, walking around him toward the exit doorway, into the museum garden, “not after you just insulted me.”

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. It’s 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.

“You can’t be serious…” 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 hadn’t expected to be caught in the rain, let alone the downpour it was unfortunately shaping up to be.

“Ow!” You winced sharply. “One just fucking hit my eyeball!”

“Shit—let’s hurry.” Wonwoo hid his phone. “My apartment’s only like, ten minutes away, less if we run really fast.”

“Run?!” You gawked at him. “I don’t run!”

“No, you fucking sashay, I get it.” 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. “And I’m so sorry but you’re 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.”

“My pretty fucking wha—!”

Once Wonwoo’s 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 couldn’t 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 he’d walked that path so many times that it almost wasn’t necessary. At one point, he’d stepped onto the street prematurely, and he heard the loud, startled honk from a car.

“Jesus Christ, Wonwoo!” You half-laughed, half-coughed, clutching onto his slippery hand even tighter, “I’d ideally like to live!”

“We’re almost there!” He chuckled back.

“I think I’m going to lose my fucking shoe!”

“I’ll buy you a new pair!”

Wonwoo didn’t stop, and you didn’t either. He was soaked to his bones, with thick, drizzling fronds of hair plastered to his forehead and the glasses nearly slipping from his nose��the scent of earthy but ashen rain all around him—and 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.

“Be careful on the steps!” He shouted overtop a reverberating crack of thunder that shook from behind the grey sleet sky.

“If I slip, I’m pulling you down with me!”

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.

—END OF PART TWO.

[mushiemellows]

✨UPDATED!✨

All of my Frobin fics I have written from December 2023 when I first started writing, up through my most recent work posted October 2024, stored in one convenient place! 🌸

🍔 Staying Right Here (and not a step closer)

RATING: E

words: 317,056 status: COMPLETE chapters: 14

Set the week Post-Enies Lobby. The core lore mostly canon compliant getting together fic. Weird sex, fast food, and an accidental wedding. My first big fic, and an adventure into writing smut. Epilogues go up through timeskip/Fishman Island reunion.

🐊 These Foolish Things

RATING: M

words: 14,178 status: ONE SHOT

Includes the Wanihana ship to tell a story of Robin's healing over time. A songfic that uses a whole catalog of Frank Sinatra songs to frame Franky and Crocodile's differing relationships to Robin. A bit more serious, as it discusses abuse. This one was a practice in writing in complex tense.

✈️ Floating Through the Stratosphere

RATING: E

words: 30,742 status: COMPLETE chapters: 2

Modern day airplane pilot AU except they are only rarely on the plane. Half one-bed-rom-com, half amnesia medical drama. This was a really fun world to build up, and I've been considering writing more stories within this world.

🕵🏻‍♀️ The Sunday Affair

RATING: E

Words: 68,078 status: ONGOING chapters: 8 (/10)

Robin is a Russian spy, Franky is an American spy. Its 1967 Cold War DC. Franky is assigned to find and kill an assassin named Sunday, Robin has to assassinate an agent named Flam. Oh, and they're married.

⏱ Another Day in the Sun

RATING: T

words: 43,413 status: ONGOING chapters: 7/ ???

The crew is stuck in a time loop, living the same day over and over again, but only some can tell. Matchmakers Robin and Franky have to get everyone to kiss each other. A thinly veiled fun little excuse to make everyone make out. And also its a bit (lot) poly (Paradise+EB5). An adventure in keeping things T.

🍼 Super Troupers

RATING: M

words: 11,130 status: ONGOING chapters: 1 (/3)

A baby fic! Chapter 1 is mostly set up, pregnancy, and delivery. But I'm still working at the follow up chapters, I want to tell more little stories with each of the boys. A bit sweet and sappy and emotionally indulgent but I don't care I love this fambly. M rating only for blood and a few intense discussions around pregnancy.

⚡️ What Makes a Man

RATING: M

words: 47,592 status: ONGOING chapters: 14 (/20?)

Putting the Franky in Frankenstein. A reanimation fic. Franky dies at Laugh Tale but leaves behind instructions for Robin to put him back together. Mainly meant to be little pocket character studies. BACK FROM THE DEAD, NOT ABANDONED FIC! I told ya I'd update it.

💀 For the Thrill of It

RATING: E

words: 46,551 status: COMPLETE chapters: 2

Nasty spooky Thriller Bark monsterfucker erotica. Brook joins the party and things get Weird. 5+1 but more like a 5+2. Established Frob with added skeleton. Chapter 2 has now been added, Robin's pov + bonus scenes. And perhaps a chapter 3 still lives in the back of my brain.

🤖 Handle With Care

RATING: E

words: 13,365 status: ONE SHOT

More nasty erotica for the sake of itself. Franky gets hurt, needing significant repairs and a full service tune up. This one is distinctly T4T. This one was written simply because no one else had written like, proper robot shit with Franky on ao3 and I was so appalled to see the hole in the market that I just HAD to fill it.

🧰 Showoff (the devil’s in the details)

RATING: E

words: 16,929 status: ONE SHOT

Even MORE pwp. Post-Egghead on the run to Elbaf, Franky shows Lilith Sunny and all of his little inventions. Things heat up between him, her, and Robin, but Vegapunk keeps all the praise to herself. This one was written in gut reaction to the most recent chapter, and I think I wrote it for entirely personal reasons lol. Franky just wants to be told he did a good job.

That's all I wrote! 610,000 words this year (of just my posted fics, not counting other works and wips) (and 45,000 words posted Halloweek alone!). I'm really proud about how my writing has developed over the year, I hadn't written much in the past so this was a huge journey, but a really fun one. Thanks for growing with me! Enjoy the works!

[sofasoap]

 Lastochka - Little Swallow

Pairing : Nikolai x F!Reader ( OC/Mini MacTavish)

Summary: Nikolai taking interest in a little swallow in Taskforce 141. to the dismay of Daddy Price and all her adoptive and real brothers.

Semi Crackish. Just for fun :)

Part I , Part II, Interlude,Part III,Part IV,Part V,Epilogue, Night, Epilogue II, Espionage

A/N: Ok take two!! For @homicidal-slvt, this time it is really Nikolai reader fic LOL.

My usual thanking @saltofmercury, mother of Mini, for lending me the character :) Please go and check out her fics!

“masterlist” for Mini MacTavish expanded verse.

“Oh hello! Who have we got here?” Flashing a big smile as he pushes his sunglasses up to have a good look at you. You immediately shrink yourself and hide behind Gaz. Underneath the swagger and flirtatious attitude, you can feel he is judging you, sussing you out.

“Nik. Stop gawking at our medic.” Gaz warned. “Otherwise you will have to deal with her overprotective brothers and dad.”

“ Ah Come on, I am sure our little  ласточка wouldn’t mind. ”

“ Las..last.. ??”

“Lastochka, Little swallow.” He corrected your pronunciation. You tilted your head in confusion. “That’s right, because I am going to take you up high in the sky, for a good ride.”  You are not missing the innuendo behind his words there. You grabbed onto Gaz’s vest tighter.

“Nikolai.” Price growled as he came up towards the three of you. 

“Oh. Here comes the dad.” Smirking, Gaz was ready to see the drama unfold. 

“I didn’t know you had a kid this old Price.”

“She’s not my kid.”

“She might as well be the way you treat us all.” Gaz mumbled.

“Ah, so you are her brother then.”

“Well, I am not the brother you should be worried about, her real brother will be hunting you down like a mad dog, then we will have a real problem at hand.” 

Price sighed. “Come on. We have an important mission here. Buckle up.”

You have to admit Nikolai is one damn good pilot. All the impressive mid air manoeuvres, the near misses, had your heart jumping out from your throat. 

“Gaz, remind me why I am here!!”

“.. I seriously don’t know. There’s no way out now!”  Gaz shouted over the noise.

“ Incoming!! Hold on tight!!” 

The helicopter shook on impact of the launcher hitting the landing gear, narrowly missing the body.

You let out a scream when you realise you were tumbling sideways, towards the door, on your way out into the bright blue sky.

Quick thinking and reflex from both Price and Gaz , they manage to pull you back just in time as they grab onto your safety cord.

“You alright Mini.”

Not trusting your voice to talk, you nodded your head furiously, after Price gave you a once over to check you are alright, he pushed you gently towards the cockpit area.  “Go, stay there, be a lot safer.”

You scramble towards the front, grabbing onto the back of the pilot seat for your dear life.

“Sorry about that Lastochka, otherwise all of us would have been blown to pieces!” he laughed. “I promise you I will get you to your destination safely.” He reached over and patted your hand. 

You stayed there for the rest of the flight, with Nikolai’s occasional reassurances to try to calm you down. 

“Well, next time when I take you flying, Lastochka, It will be in a more pleasant circumstances.” He held onto your hand, which is still shaking visibly from the adrenaline rush. You blushed with embarrassment, There is no next time, you thought. At least not in a helicopter.

Quietly thanking him after letting out a shaky breath, standing up and picking up your gears after Price and Gaz shouted to you to urge you to move on. 

Reaching down to your pocket to put on your sunglasses before stepping out, you couldn’t find it in your usual pocket. Patting around checking everywhere, you must have lost it when you were rolling out.

“Missing something?”

“ … Lost my sunglasses.” 

Take his sunglasses off, and put it on top of your head, “ Here, have mine.”

“But.. “

“I got plenty of spares. Plus.” flashing you a big smile again, “you can return it to me if you decide to take up my offer of leisure flight next time. I will also throw in a good old Russian hospitality and drink in there if you are up for it.”

Oh this man is definitely a big flirt, and he isn’t giving up.

“Mini, where did you get those sunglasses from?” 

“That looks awfully like Nikolai’s..”

Nikolai could feel four pairs of eyes staring at him like hounds going after their prey after he got out of the helicopter.

Things get even more chaotic when Nikolai shows up at the end of the mission, offering you, and only you, a ride back to the base. 

Laswell had to come to your rescue and growl at all the boys, including Price for making a scene.

And you know it’s going to be a bumpy ride in the future when Nikolai sneakily slides his phone number into your hand before being pushed away by a very angry Soap and Ghost.