#and try to not get injured in the middle of it this time;;
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the person who helped today when I fell out of my wheelchair actually did a really great job, so I want to share in case other people wonder what to do. [Note: this is not universal, this is merely a suggestion from one person, every wheelchair user's needs are different! I am a person who uses a manual chair usually pushed by someone else who is also disabled.]
Scenario: you see someone in a wheelchair fall out of their chair, and you have the ability to help.
1. Approach and ask "are you okay?"*
2. Next question if they say no, are vague, or open to continuing conversation** is, "is there anything I can do to help?" Or "what can I do?"
If they say no to help, then that's the end, just leave and go do whatever you were doing!
If they ask for help or say they are mildly injured, ask "what would you like me to do?" And wait for an answer before doing anything! If they seem dazed or confused, they might have hit their head or had another medical event*, or they might just be like that due to regular disability. Be patient.
Do not touch the person unless they say to, or they are like, unconcious in the middle of the road, ya know?? Wheelchair users usually have conditions that mean being handled improperly can severely injure us, you could cause much more damage than the fall.
Some things they might need you to do:
Bring their wheelchair closer (mine went about 5 feet away after it dumped me)
engage the brakes of the wheelchair
hold wheelchair steady if it's an unsteady surface (mud, hill, ramp, wet, etc)
offer an arm for them to hold onto to get up (them grabbing you, not you grabbing them) or move another solid item closer for them to use (i.e. a chair) [only do this if you physically have the ability to!]
If the terrain is rough (i.e. a parking lot), they *might* ask you to push their chair to a more stable area once they are back in their chair
nothing
Something else
Do what they ask, NOT what you think would be helpful. If for some reason you have to do something (i.e. you can't stop oncoming traffic and need to get them out) ASAP, tell them what you plan to do
Keep in mind they might also be D/deaf, have a communication disability, be stunned after the fall, have a head injury, not trust other people, etc. Be patient and treat them as a person with autonomy and agency! They might need to just sit on the ground for a few minutes to recover before trying to get back in their chair. They might want everyone to leave them alone. They might ask you to call someone specific. Their chair might have broken and that can be extremely distressing. All of this is like if your legs spontaneously stop working when you're out and about!
A lot of wheelchair users (NOT ALL) have ways to get into their chair on their own once the chair is close enough and brakes engaged (but it's hard from the ground!). Here's what brakes look like on a lot of manual wheelchairs, in case they ask you to lock the brakes. They're levers on each side and pushing the lever pushes a bar against the wheel to hold it still.
ID: A manual wheelchair with the brake levels circled in red and labeled "user brake levers"
*There is also the possibility of course that a person fell out of their chair due to a seizure or other medical event, so that is why it is important to ask if they are okay. If you saw them hit their head, tell them so. If they had a medical event, follow protocol for that, I'm not gonna get into it here (thought I could).
**sometimes a person will be clear after the first question i.e. "I'm all good thanks" clearly means they do not need you to ask another question, you can just leave them alone. Keep walking and don't stare. A lot of the time people will be a bit banged up but be totally fine and able to manage on their own.
TLDR: Ask the wheelchair user if they're okay, then what they need, and then do exactly that, including leaving them alone. Thanks!
#obviously some people will just be fine and can do it themselves#but for those of us who cannot! thank you for helping#pretty simple honestly. just ask what they need and then do that thing!#don't make assumptions and don't touch them in any way unless they tell you how to#no one piss on the poor please#i know this doesn't cover everyone#no post in the world can#and im a communication disabled person#trying to process falling out of my chair today. lol.#wheelchair#wheelchair tag#wheelchair user#isaacfloofs talk#disability blogging#disability#obviously if a person falls out of a power chair you cant just move it super easy esspecially if the reason is that it got stuck#(power chairs often weigh about 300+lbs)#anyway
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AITA Tommyâs Version
r/AmITheAsshole 25 minutes ago
UpInTheAir
AITA for breaking up with my partner and then calling him to say I miss you 2 hours after
TL;DR: I was a cute guys bisexual awakening, we dated for 6 months and I broke his heart to save my own broken heart later and now I miss him
I (39M) recently broke up with my partner E (33M) after 6 months of dating. We met at work and I was intrigued by him from the start. A few weeks after we met he called and asked for a tour of my job (we both work the same job just different locations). I agreed to give him a tour because I thought he was hot and I wanted to get to know him better. He offered to buy me a beer but I forgot I was supposed to go to a fight with a mutual friend D (32M) so I had to leave right after our tour.
We didnât talk anymore after I left with D until we played basketball and E and another friend showed up. E got jealous and hit D and injured him. I took D to get looked and then after I got him squared away at home I went to Eâs place to apologize where we talked and we kissed for the first time. I had to leave almost immediately after to go to work but we texted a few times.
We decided weâd do dinner and a movie for our first date and it was going well until D and his girlfriend interrupted our date and E panicked at being forced out and I decided it was time to end things for the night. I paid for dinner and left and thought that was it until he called me and asked if we could meet up again.
During the 5 days we didnât speak he was all I could think about. I agreed to meet E for coffee after work and when I got there he told me heâd had conversations with his older sister M (44F) and D about us. He wanted a second chance and when I agreed he asked me to be his date to his sisters wedding.
We went to a failed bachelor party, I had to leave early for a work thing but while I was gone the groom went missing. He was found and the wedding went off without much more of a hitch and I got to the wedding late but E and I made out in the middle of the hospital before we joined the party.
We had a good time all summer and early this fall. We spent almost every mutual day off together and it was great. Sure we bickered occasionally but nothing really major.
At our anniversary dinner I mentioned I was engaged and that was that. A couple days after we realized we had a mutual ex and E asked me to move in with him. And I spiraled and broke up with him.
I went home and a couple hours later called him to say I missed him. His best friend answered and I could hear E in the background crying.
ItalianStallion ⢠23 minutes
YTA. Youâre an idiot OP.
UpInTheAir ⢠21 minutes
So helpful
ItalianStallion ⢠20 minutes
I try buddy
EightPack ⢠19 minutes
YTA. You can probably fix it if you go get him and bring flowers
UpInTheAir ⢠17 minutes
You really think so?
EightPack ⢠12 minutes
Just go get him and tell him you love him
BuckinItUp ⢠24 minutes
ESH. You said you realized you had a mutual ex and then E asked you to move in?
UpInTheAir ⢠22 minutes
Yep
BuckinItUp ⢠20 minutes
I bet heâs sorry too and wants to talk to you too. Go get your man
OverTheCoop ⢠10 minutes
ESH. You for breaking his heart and E for asking you to move in so quickly
StuckInTheChimney ⢠2 minutes
YTA. Fix it and try to win him back.
Update: Itâs been a year since I posted this but hereâs an update for anyone curious. E and I are back together!! I just flew him to Vegas and we got married by a guy in a really bad Elvis costume.
Tagging: @rdng1230 @bangpop91 @thecarrott @cliophilyra @girlwonder-writes @desert--moonchild @thepinkcrayon @marvelousbuckley @nine-one-wanton @30somethingautisticteacher @sunnywithachanceofbi @dadbodbuck @aplaceinme @rubydaiquiri
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billy x reader - time traveler billy
Everything happens so quickly that you donât have time â at first â to realize how odd the situation is. The manâs clothes make him look like a refugee from a Western, and everything about him, from the curl of his hair to the way he stands marks him out as someoneâŚdifferent, somehow. Not to mention, of course, that heâs standing in the middle of the street, looking about as out of place and freaked out as a squirrel dropped into the middle of the ocean.Â
But even if you could put your finger on it, you donât have the time to consider what makes him so strange.Â
First, youâll have to get him out of the path of the oncoming car.Â
You have, in point of fact, never actually tackled someone before, let alone someone who seems to be quite a bit taller than you and undoubtedly heavier. But you take your best shot, leaning in and diving at his waist, hoping to make him fold like a lawn chair. Maybe itâs just the shock, or maybe you actually find the right angle â you have no idea, but it doesnât really matter. You manage to knock the guy sideways, both of you stumbling toward the safety of the sidewalk as the car screeches past, the driver laying on his horn.Â
You watch as the guy flinches at the noise, actually clapping his hands over his ears as he squeezes his eyes shut, like heâs praying with all his might that the noise will just stop. Fortunately for him, the car turns the corner up ahead, and the sound of the horn fades as it goes. You watch it go, wondering absently how long Speed Racer is going to keep honking, and then you look back at the guy whose life youâve saved.
âAre you okay?â Itâs probably a stupid question, considering what little information you already have, but you donât know what else to say. The guy lowers his hands and squints at you, staring as if youâre the one dressed like an extra from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. âHey â are you alright?â
He shakes his head, more like heâs trying to chase away a bothersome gnat than answering you.Â
Youâre starting to worry that heâs hit his head, although you canât see a cut or a bruise on his temple. Now that youâre looking at him properly, itâs really rather difficult to keep from noticing howâŚwell, how hot he is. Itâs probably â definitely â inappropriate to even think about it, youâre well aware, considering heâs either injured, intoxicated in some way, or just going through it, but you canât ignore the fact now that itâs quite literally staring you in the face.Â
His eyes are large and blue, framed by thick, dark lashes as long as your pinky finger, set above a strong, straight nose that reminds you of a Greek statue, as perfectly sculpted as if itâs been made from marble. His lips are astonishingly full, his jawline and cheekbones each as defined as the dictionary, and you think there just might be the shadow of a dimple in his chin. And heâs tall, too, topping you by nearly a foot, his broad shoulders tapering to an angular waist. You realize, belatedly, that youâre staring, but then again, so is he.
âAre you okay?â you say again. âIs there something I can do for you? Someone I can call?â
He swallows, giving another shake of his head. âI donâtâŚI dunno where I am.âÂ
Itâs the first time youâve heard him speak, and his voice brings to mind sage brush and sunsets, the smoke that swirls over a campfire as it crackles with life, warm and husky, with a twang that makes you think of the bite of whiskey.Â
âOkay,â you say, and without thinking about it, you take his hand. It feels natural, like trying to guide a lost child, or trying to make sure you donât lose him in a crowd. As soon as his palm touches yours, you feel a shock race up your arm, and you have the strangest sensation of a door closing, separating one moment from the next as definitively as an axe splitting wood.Â
His fingers curl around yours, his expression almost pleading.Â
âOkay,â you repeat. âOkay. JustâŚcome with me. Iâll help you.â
You can tell, if not just by the expression on his face â half-hopeful, half-bracing, as if heâs expecting a blow to fall any second â that heâs not used to asking for help, especially not from strangers. It makes your heart hurt just a little bit. You give his hand a gentle squeeze, and youâre softened â or maybe melted â by the way he smiles at you, shy but appearing more heartened than he did just a moment ago.
Then another car whizzes by, and he winces like someone has taken a shot at him. He ducks down, his eyes so wide that they look like a pair of full moons, their cornflower centers the only source of color in his face. âThe hell is that?â
You stare at him. If he didnât look so terrified, youâd think he was joking. But if heâs not joking, then heâs either on an incredible cocktail of drugs, or heâs from that weird isolated cult town in The Village. âItâsâŚitâs a car,â you say.Â
âA car,â he repeats, as if youâve just told him the secret to life in Mandarin.Â
âYeah,â you say. âYou knowâŚa horseless carriage.âÂ
For some reason, this seems to impart some understanding to him, but you can tell heâs still plenty freaked out. âCarriages donât go that fuckinâ fast!â
You try very, very hard not to laugh, but god, itâs hard. Youâre having to draw on nearly every ounce of compassion you have. It helps that, really, heâs not wrong. Not that youâve ever ridden in a carriage, because youâre not Keira Knightley in a period film, but you donât think theyâre capable of speeds like that.Â
âIf it makes you feel any better,â you say, âyou donât have to worry about getting into a horseless carriage with me. I hate driving.âÂ
Now that itâs just the two of you standing on the sidewalk again, the road mercifully free of cars, he seems to relax a little, at least enough to consider your words. âWell,â he says. âThatâs something.âÂ
Not entirely sure where to go, you decide the police station is as good a place as any. It might be a little Hallmark movie of the week, but maybe someone has already filed a missing persons report on him. With that thought, it occurs to you that you need some information first.Â
âDo you remember your name?â you ask.
The look he gives you indicates he has never been quite so offended in his life. You canât help but laugh this time. âWell, I donât know!â you say. âYou donât know where you are, youâre walking around here looking like a puppy at the start of an ASPCA ad â maybe youâre suffering from some kind of amnesia.â
He doesnât look any less nonplussed, but something about your laughter has loosened the muscles in his face. He smiles at you. You try to ignore the way your stomach flips to focus on his answer. âBilly,â he says.Â
You fight the urge to repeat his name, rolling it around in your mouth like candy. âCome on,â you say, his hand still in yours. âWeâre not gonna get anywhere just standing here. Do you trust me?â
He smiles again, though this time with a bit of a razorâs edge to it. âNot like I got much choice, honey,â he says, and then pauses, softens. âYeah. Youâve been nicer to me than most people wouldâve, findinâ a stranger in the middle of nowhere, actinâ like heâs been dropped on his head. I wouldnât have blamed ya if youâd run the other direction.â
You have no idea why, but what springs from your mouth before you can help yourself is: âI couldnât do that to you.â
He studies you for a minute. His gaze feels as physical as a caress, and just as intimate. If not more so. You both do and donât want it to stop.Â
âCome on,â you say again, at least in part to break the silence. âFollow me.â
The two of you start walking, following the weathered gray slabs of cracked, uneven concrete that your small town calls a sidewalk as it winds its way into town.Â
After a few moments of quiet, he says, âYou never told me your name.âÂ
When you introduce yourself, he smiles again. âThatâs nice,â he says. âPretty.â
Your stomach flips again, and you have to remind yourself that you donât know anything about this guy, except â only just now â his name. The fact that heâs tall, gorgeous, and really does give off a hurt puppy sort of vibe doesnât matter. And it definitely doesnât matter that his smile spreads across his face like a sunrise coloring the sky with ribbons of pastels. He could be a serial killer, or if not that extreme, some kind of âÂ
The two of you are still, for reasons not entirely clear to you and probably not much clearer to him, holding hands, so youâre jerked out of your thoughts by the fact that heâs gone stock still.Â
âYouâre takinâ me to the sheriff?â
If the dread clinging to his voice like a weed choking out a weaker plant wasnât bad enough, heâs frozen still on the sidewalk, looking at you as if youâveâŚwell, as if youâve betrayed him somehow. The pit of your stomach turns to ice.
âThe sheriff?â you repeat. You feel oddly, stupidly, disappointed. A guy with nothing to hide doesnât act like this when someone brings him to the authorities. The disillusionment washing over you makes your tongue sharp. âWho the hell are you, Barney Fife?â
He frowns. âI told you my name.â
âYeah, I â never mind.â You shake your head and let go of his hand. The bare skin of your palm feels oddly cold. âWhatâs the matter? I thought someone might be looking for you. Maybe someone filed a missing persons report.â
âI donât think so, darlinâ.â He glances at the police station again, his throat bobbing. A pause, and then, softly, like heâs making a confession: âNobody left that cares about me that much. Unless they wanna cause me some hurt.â
You feel the strangest mixture of sympathetic and prickly, as if youâve been caught doing something wrong by someone who has been directly and seriously hurt by your actions. âWellâŚâ You clear your throat, trying to find the right words to defend yourself. âI mean, listen, what kind of hurt? Are you a criminal or something?â
One corner of his mouth tilts up in a bitter approximation of a grin. âOr somethinâ, honey,â he says. âI got a reputation I never wanted and that Iâm not proud of, anâ not one person reads about me in the paper or sees my name on a wanted posterââ
Wanted poster? But something about his fierce, stung expression keeps your mouth shut.
â â ever gave a damn about the truth. About why I did all that stuff. I didnât want to!â When his voice rises, equal parts angry and hurt, you canât help yourself. You reach for his hand again. He takes a deep breath, his fingers grasping yours. âI didnât want to do any of it. I just wantedâŚI wanted things to get better. Every time I thought they would, they just got worse.â
You know it would make sense to ask what he actually did, but somehow, you canât bring yourself to put the words out there. He looks ashamed and angry, but defiant, too, as if daring you to do it. Or, worse, to pass judgement. But you just press your lips together.Â
âI wanted to go straight,â he says. âI wanted a good job for a respectable boss, so I could keep a roof over my head and food in my belly. Damn it, I just wanted some peaceââ
When his voice breaks, you feel it in your chest, as if a fissure has opened up in your collarbone. Your own eyes burn, a reaction as instantaneous and out of your control as a burning red welt raising up around a beeâs stinger. It hurts you, to see him hurt, and you canât even begin to explain to yourself why that is.Â
âWell, IâŚIâŚâ You fumble your words, not even sure what youâre going to say. But you know you have to say something. âIâŚokay, so, weâllâŚweâll go somewhere else. Weâll figure it out.â
He looks about as shocked to hear you say that as he was by the car burning rubber on the road leading into town. âYou mean it?â
You swallow down the stupid feeling that youâre going to cry, and you nod. âYeah, come on,â you say, and you hold out your hand again. He takes it. âWeâll go back to my place.â
He offers you another crooked smile, but this one is more surprised, almost tender, like youâve shown him something sweet and unexpected hidden in the palm of your hand. âYou sure about that, sweetheart?â he says. âYou donât know me all that well. Iâd understand if you didnât want a strange man in your home.â
Forget not knowing him that well, you donât really know him at all, but you just tell him, âIâm sure.â
Because you are. In what seems to be the theme of the day, you canât explain why, but it just feelsâŚsafe. Despite the little Dateline-themed voice in your head telling you otherwise, you canât ignore the certainty, heavy and inexplicable, that youâve been here before. Heâll step into your apartment and feel at ease, because this isnât the first time heâs been your home. It will fit like an old coat, comfortable and soft and easy.Â
Itâs insane, but you canât turn your thoughts away from it.Â
His fingers lace with yours, and he rubs his thumb over your knuckle. The way heâs looking at you, so intently, his gaze never wavering from yours, makes you feel as though youâre being turned inside out, exposed. The moment when he froze with fear as the two of you approached the police â sheriff â station seems distant in both time and space, like youâve gone forward many miles and many years in time in the space of just a few minutes.
âNo cars, right?â he says, his crooked smile widening. The word cars sits in his mouth like he isnât quite used to the shape of it, but youâre so charmed by the fact that heâs trying to make a joke. That the two of you have a joke to share.Â
âNo cars,â you say.
Youâre walking again. Now and again you pass other people, who look at Billy the way you must have looked at him when you first saw him â eyebrows furrowed, pushing down over their eyes, glance flicking over him as if a quick look will make any more sense than a lingering one. Billy doesnât seem to notice, or if he does, he doesnât seem to care. Heâs too busy looking around at everything else; it all seems to shock him to varying degrees, whether itâs the buildings around you, the streetlights and the power lines silhouetted against the sky, the concrete beneath your feet and the asphalt of the road running beside you.Â
As another car zooms by, Billy lets go of your hand, dosey-doâs behind you, and takes your other hand. Now heâs standing between you and the road. âI donât like those things,â he mutters, more to himself than to you. âBut I like you near âem even less.âÂ
Your apartment building is a brick rectangle studded with windows, a pair of double doors set in the middle at the top of a wide set of concrete steps. You lead Billy inside and he stops as you reach for the elevator button.Â
âWhat the hell?â he says, again speaking under his breath.
You push the button, watching Billyâs face as the call button lights up. He flinches at the ding, looking around for the source of the noise; you squeeze his hand gently. You wonder again where the hell he came from, that every piece of modern technology seems to make as little sense to him as ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. âItâs okay,â you say. âJust trust me.âÂ
Implicit in your voice is this: I wonât let anything happen to you.
He seems to hear your silent promise, or maybe the words you actually say are enough. Billy smiles thinly and nods.
When the doors slide open, though, he balks. âAre we supposed to go in there?â
âYes. Itâll take us up to the floor my apartment is on, without us having to go up all those stairs.â
He swallows. âOkay.â
You step into the elevator and he trails after you with the air of a child who is expecting a switching out back. When the elevator starts to rise upward, Billy stares at you incredulously. âItâs okay,â you say again. âIt wonât take long, I promise.â
He has a white-knuckle grip on your hand, and he jumps a little at the ding from somewhere above your heads as the elevator comes to a stop. When the doors slide open, he relaxes a little. âThatâs all?â
âThatâs all,â you confirm, and you lead him down the hallway. He waits while you fish your keys out and let yourselves inside your apartment.
As soon as the door closes behind you, Billyâs shoulders soften. You watch him as he looks around, feeling oddly nervous. As if it matters whether or not he likes your place.
Your building is old â you think from the 1920s or thereabouts, if you remember what your landlord said when she showed you the place five years ago â and it shows in the way it looks. Wooden parquet floors the color of honey are softened by rugs that you found at a flea market, a brown velvet couch slouching in front of a square, red-brick fireplace, framed by a mantle scattered with knickknacks. Billy smiles as he wanders over, picking up a little statuette shaped like a cat, wearing a collar of flat chips of glass.
âCute,â he says, offering you another smile, and you feel inordinately pleased.Â
His gaze roams around the living room. To his left, a doorway hung with a beaded curtain leads into the kitchen, and in front of him, a hallway runs to the back of the apartment, with your bedroom on one side and a bathroom on the other. His gaze turns back to the mantle, lifting to the wall above it, where a flatscreen TV is fixed.
âWhat is that?â he says, leaning forward to inspect this dim reflection in the screen. âA mirror?â
Despite yourself, a snort works its way out of your mouth, and he shoots you a wounded look. âSorry,â you say, putting your hand over your mouth. âSorry. No, itâs my TV.â
You have another, smaller one in your room, but you decide one television might be enough for him to deal with right now.
âA â a TâŚV?â he says, repeating the two letters distinctly, as if they have nothing to do with each other. âWhatâs that?â
Your lips part, and you stare at him for a second. âBilly,â you say. âWhere are you from?â
His brow furrows, like he doesnât quite understand what youâre asking. âWell,â he says slowly. âMost recently Iâve been livinâ in New Mexico. Why?â
New Mexico. That really doesnât answer your question. âWhere in New Mexico?â
His puzzled frown deepens, but he doesnât ask why youâre pressing him. Maybe he figures you deserve to know, after saving his life and bringing him back to your apartment. âLincoln, right now,â he says.
You donât know much about Lincoln â or New Mexico, for that matter â but you donât think itâs some reclusive community where they wouldnât know about elevators or cars.Â
The next question you have is crazy, totally insane, really â but you think youâve seen doctors on TV ask concussion victims the same thing. And thatâs definitely all it is. Because thereâs no way this could actually be the problem.Â
âBilly,â you say again. âWhat year is it?â
Now itâs his turn to huff out a laugh through his nose. âWhat year is it? Itâs 1881.âÂ
Youâre so floored by this statement that you blurt out, without much â or any â tact: âNo, itâs not.â
He looks like heâs on the verge of arguing with you, but maybe everything hits him all at once. The cars, the technology he doesnât understand, the very world around him that looks so different from what heâs used to. âWhatâŚwhat year is it, then?â
You blink. â2024,â you say.Â
This time, when he laughs, thereâs no humor in it, only a sharp incredulity. âYouâre crazy,â he says, but without much heat. Itâs almost like a plea, as though heâs offering you the opportunity to take it back. To say something that actually makes sense, because â and you have to give it to him, heâs not wrong â this doesnât make sense at all.
And yet, unless heâs been severely brainwashes or heâs just putting you on, itâs also the only option.
âHow did I get here?â he says, and he sounds â and looks â like he might cry again. âWhat do I do now?â
âI donât know,â you say. Then you reach for him, and even before your hands find his face, heâs moving closer to you. He holds onto your waist, like youâre a lifeline. âI donât know. I donât know how you got here, or why, but youâre not alone, okay? You have me.â
It doesnât even register with you at first that this is an incredibly strange, if not downright dangerous, thing to say to someone you met not even two hours ago. Especially considering youâre saying it to a man who is bigger and undoubtedly stronger than you. But you donât feel like youâre putting yourself at risk.Â
Billy, though, says what youâre thinking, except he says it with a sense of wonder. It almost sounds like a prayer. âI donât even know you,â he murmurs.
Yes, you do.
The thought seems to come from outside of you, as if someone has turned to a fresh page in your mind and written it there in their own hand.Â
Billy says your name, still in that awestruck voice. It feels as though there is a web spun between you, gossamer-fine but indissoluble. The fact that he could be an honest-to-god time traveler makes more sense to you than the idea that you only met him today.Â
â1881,â you repeat, and he chuckles.
â2024,â he returns.Â
âHow old are you?âÂ
âTwenty-two.â
âOh,â you say, relieved. Although technically if heâs twenty-two and from the year 1881, that means heâs around 165 years old, but whoâs counting? âMe too.â
He smiles, an uptick of the corner of his mouth that nonetheless makes your heart skip in your chest. You decide that you want his hands on you, always, his gaze on you, always, but then you remember something else you have to show him.Â
âCome here,â you say, taking his hand again. You lead him down the hallway to the bathroom, the sight of which earns you another look at his stunned, disbelieving face. âOkay. This is my bathroom.â You point. âThatâs a toilet.â You try to remember when toilets were invented. âItâs likeâŚan outhouse. But inside.âÂ
Billy snorts. âI know what a toilet is.â
You hum. Thereâs that, at least. âThis is definitely new,â you say, and you point to the shower. He nods. You have one of those with a glass door, which you â a little embarrassingly, now â have declared with decals of cartoon sea creatures, including a whale, a puffer fish, and a little scuba diver. âRight. This a shower.â
You push the door open, reaching inside and turning the knob so the water comes pouring out. Billy jumps at the sudden noise and stares as steam fill the room. âItâs hot?â he says uncertainly.
âIt can be,â you say. âIf you twist this knob here, it can get cooler, though. But it wonât hurt you.â
âWhat do you do?â he says, peering at the shower. âItâs for bathinâ?â
You nod. âYou justâŚâ You blush and gesture vaguely at his clothes, before gesturing equally vaguely to the floor. âAnd step in. Thereâs soap and shampoo for your hair.â
He smiles crookedly. âAre you tryinâ to tell me I donât smell like roses, honey?â
You laugh a little. âI mean, wellâŚâ
He grins again before looking resolutely at the shower. âOkay,â he says. âIâll try.â
You give him privacy, shutting the door behind you, though you hover nervously in the hallway in case he needs you. Youâre worried about him slipping and falling, so you have to resist the temptation to press your ear against the door. Finally, you hear the water shut off â youâre proud of him for figuring out how to do that, without dousing himself in ice water or boiling himself alive â and you realize, just then, that you have to get him fresh clothes.
âHold on!â you call through the door.
You hurry into your room and find an old college t-shirt that you âborrowedâ from your dad, along with a pair of pajama bottoms that are advertised as unisex but absolutely swim on you at the cuffs, so you hope theyâre long enough for him. You knock on the bathroom door, and when it opens a crack, you hold out the clothes while carefully turning your head away. âHere,â you say. âThese should fit.â
âThank you,â he says, voice muffled by the door, and then he takes the clothes and the door shuts again.Â
You perch on the couch in the living room, waiting for him. The bathroom door opens fully, releasing a cloud of fragrant steam, and you smile encouragingly as you see Billy standing in the doorway. The pants do indeed fit, although the t-shirt hangs on him a little.Â
âWhat did you think?â you ask. âOf your first shower experience?â
Billy chuckles, coming to sit next to you on the couch. Youâre so aware of his proximity that it makes the air between you sing. Thereâs something about the sight of him, freshly showered and smiling, seemingly more relaxed now, that makes you want to lean into him.Â
âIt was nice,â he says. âWarm.âÂ
Youâve lost count of how many times today that itâs happened, but once again, he takes your hand.Â
âThank you for takinâ care of me,â he says softly. âYouâre a sweet girl. Iâm glad I met you.â
Coming from anyone else, being called a sweet girl would make you feel like a toy poodle. But coming from Billy, in his warm, molasses-slow drawl, it just makes you feel warm, like youâre bathing in sunshine.Â
âIâm glad, too,â you murmur.
It would be crazy to kiss him right now, right? You know the answer is yes. You know that. Still, ever since the moment his voice broke outside the police station, youâve feltâŚprotective over him. More than that, youâve felt connected. Itâs as if seeing him break down, even if it was only for a moment, in turn broke down something between the two of you.Â
You remember that sensation when you first took his hand, as if a door had slammed solidly shut between this moment and the rest of your life, and you think maybe there wasnât so much of a barrier up in the first place.
Billy touches your cheek with the very pads of his fingertips, as if heâs afraid that youâre a bubble that will burst from rough contact. âWhat the hell?â he says softly, and you laugh, because you know itâs not really a question youâre supposed to answer. âWe just met today?â
You nod.
âAnd some way or another, Iâve traveledâŚâ A pause while he does the math. â140-odd years in the future?â
You nod again.Â
âAlright, then,â he says mildly, and he kisses you.
It feels like the world turns inside out from a point centered around the two of you, spiraling and twisting outward until it forms again, entirely new, bigger and grander, humming and buzzing like a live-wire. Your hands grasping his shoulders feel like the only reason you arenât just floating away, and the way he grips your waist makes you think he feels the same. You press closer to him, his arms encircling you as he pulls you onto his lap.
A hoarse chuckle comes from somewhere around the fireplace. âYou kids usually take longer than this.â
You jump out of your skin, and before you can blink, you find yourself sprawled on the couch cushions, Billy on his feet in front of you. One hand goes to his belt only to grasp at the air. He scowls and brandishes his fists instead, and thenâ
âOld Moss?â
You sit up. âYou know this guy?â
An old man has his elbow propped on the mantelpiece, a tattered hat perched on his head. Heâs shorter than Billy, stockier, but their clothes are much the same, along with the weathered tan on their faces. The old man, though, has a beard covering the lower half of his face, spilling over his chest like dirty cotton.Â
âIâŚâ Billy shakes his head, seemingly just as flummoxed â if not more â than he was before. âI knew him when I was a kid. He helped my family cross the country.â
The old man â Old Moss â chuckles. âIâm not Old Moss, son,â he says. âI took on this form to make you more comfortable. Otherwise you would have tried to wallop me, I bet, and that wouldnât have been good for you.â
Billy stiffens, and he puts one arm behind him, to keep you behind him on the couch. âWho the hell are you, then?â
Old Moss (you donât know what else to call him) shrugs. âA representative of the universe,â he says, waving his hand to underscore this grand sentiment. âMy speciality is helpinâ lovers find each other in every lifetime.âÂ
A shiver dances down your spine. âEvery lifetime?â you murmur.
âOh, sure,â Old Moss says. âYou two have found each other in every life since your souls first came into being.â He smiles crookedly. âThanks to me. Youâre welcome.â
Another grin creases his face. âThis time, I thought Iâd try things a little bit differently,â he says, shrugging. âIâve never pulled one soul from a different point in time before. I wasnât sure if it would work, to be honest with you.â
He grins again. âJudginâ by the way you were treatinâ her face like an ice cream cone, though, Iâm guessing it did.â
Despite yourself, you giggle.Â
Out of the corner of his mouth, slanting a glance at you, Billy murmurs, âWhatâs aâ?â
âIâll get you one later. Youâll like it,â you assure him, and now you do stand next to him, patting him gently on the shoulder. âDonât worry, though, you kiss better than that.â
Old Moss chuckles. âYou guys got any questions before I go?â
You think for a second. âHow many lives has it been?â
âMmmâŚâ The old man tugs on his beard thoughtfully. âIâd say this is yourâŚI dunno, I lost track. Somewhere around 200, I think, maybe a little north of that.â
Your hand creeps into Billyâs, and he squeezes gently.
âAnd we loved each other in all of them?â you say.
Old Mossâs expression is almost unbearably kind. He nods. âAll of them,â he says.
Billyâs shoulder presses against yours, and you feel the contact from the top of your head to the soles of your feet. Somehow, over 200 lifetimes of loving him doesnât seem like a surprise.Â
âAnâ IâŚI get to stay here with her?â Billy says now. âI donât gotta go back there?â
Buried in the snowy tangles of his beard, Old Mossâs mouth twitches. You canât tell if itâs a smile, or if heâs trying to swallow tears. âYeah, son,â he says. âYou get to stay.â
Billyâs hand tightens around yours, as if heâs worried â despite Old Mossâs confirmation â that someone is going to take him away from you. You grip his hand tighter in turn. Like youâre going to let that happen.
You look over at Billy, and he turns his head to meet your gaze. You can see every one of those lifetimes in his eyes, caught in his gaze like snowflakes on his lashes, and you hope thereâs going hundreds more, going on until the world itself ends. Nothing else will be enough.Â
By the time you can turn your eyes away from him, Old Moss is gone. You look over at Billy again, and he grins at you. âI guess representatives of the universe favor Irish goodbyes.â
You grin back at him, winding your arms around his neck. âIt seems like Iâm stuck with you now,â you say, and he chuckles.Â
âSeems so.â
He leans down to kiss you. The world turns inside out and spirals again â and again â and again â andâŚby the time itâs settled again, and Billy breaks the kiss, you think that youâd be happy if you spent this lifetime and each one to come just doing this.
âSoâŚâ Billy smiles crookedly. âAbout that ice cream cone?â
You laugh. Thereâs a thousand things to set him up with â how the hell does somebody get a Social Security number at twenty-something years old? â but you can figure that out later.
For now âÂ
âLetâs take you to get one,â you say. âAnd Iâll introduce you to the unbeatable combination of gummy bears and ice cream.â
âWhat areâ?â
You laugh, taking his hand and rising onto your toes to peck his cheek. âJust trust me. Youâll love it.âÂ
#billy the kid 2022#billy the kid x reader#billy the kid fan fiction#william h bonney fanfiction#tom blyth
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Me again đ this is the last one (for now)
How about Howzer x reader with "sh, sh, I'm going to patch you up."?? I love Howzer so much and virtually no one writes for him </3
Playing Doctor
Summary:Â In an ideal world, being trapped in a cramped place with Howzer would be a dream come true. After all, youâve been crushing on him for ages now. You just wish the situation was a little less sucky.
Pairing: Captain Howzer x GN!Reader
Word Count: 1200
Warnings: Reader is injured, pining, Howzer is jealous but pretends that he isn't
A/N: Sorry that this took so long! I couldn't get Howzer to agree with me. Until I put on a Disney playlist on Spotify and the words just started flowing. (Also, I have been in a not-great mental place since the 6th, but I think I'm better-ish now). I hope you like it!
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Youâve known Howzer for years now.Â
You first met him at the beginning of the Clone Wars, all of those years ago. And, looking back now, you can admit that your first impression of him wasnât the greatest.Â
He was arrogant. Cocky, even. And in his opinion, you were a meddling busybody who needed to spend a day or two sitting in a jail cell.
You werenât, and arenât, a soldier. You were the former base commanderâs receptionist, and when he left for greener pastures, you were left behind with a handful of soldiers and support staff who werenât important enough to anyone to manage to pull a reassignment.
In truth, you kept the base running through duct tape and a prayer. And then Howzer came along and took it from you.Â
It wasnât until he realized that none of the NatBorn soldiers, or support staff, would listen to him, that they all deferred to you, that Howzer realized that he stepped on a few toes.Â
And he didnât apologize until your Squad of Misfits pulled him and his men out of an ambush that should have killed them, but only left him badly injured and with a scar on his face.
The rest, as they say, is history.
By the time the Jedi Purge happened, you and Howzer were friends. Friends enough that, when he called you to ask for help, you dropped everything and hurried to his side.Â
That had been a year ago, and while you wonât ever say that you regret it, you do wish that you had been more clever about your career prospects.
Or, at least, more clever.
Surely, if you had gone to medical school like your mother wanted you wouldnât be in this situation.
Right?
You release a pained whimper as Howzer presses his hands, firmly, over the wound in your side. You try to pull away from his painful touch, but the way he has you positioned against the wall of the cave youâre taking shelter in means that you canât move.
âHowzerââ
âI know it hurts, adâika.â His voice is low, and you donât think youâve ever seen such a grim look on his face before. Well, not directed towards you, at least, âbut I need to stop the bleeding.â
Hesitantly, because heâs been funny about you touching him lately, you wrap your hands around his wrists, ââm sorry. I messed up.â
âItâs not your fault. Who knew that the Stormtroopers had people who could use fucking javelins. Where are we, the Middle Ages?â He sounds stressed and angry.
âMany Indigenous people use weapons like that,â You reply, âLike the Ewoks and the Tusken Raiders of Tatooine.â
Howzer releases a huffed laugh, âWhy do you know that?â
âI saw a documentary about it before,â You admit.
âYeah? When was this?â He applies more pressure and you whimper as the sudden pain knocks the air out of your lungs, and you see a muscle work in his jaw.
âWhen I was a kid,â You manage to say, âThere used to be a show. Tula the Tooka. Tula would teach kids about different races and show how weâre all the same.â
âFighting bigotry one little kid at a time?â
âSomething like that.â You wince, âShe also covered some basic language skills, like how to say hello, or Iâm lost, in whatever language.â
âSounds educational,â Howzer shifts his hand and glances at your side, and then he takes your hand and presses it over the wound, âApply pressure while I pull out my kit.â
âYou could always just leave me here,â You offer.
âDonât be fucking stupid, Iâm not leaving you behind.â Howzer replies as he starts digging through the bag heâs been carrying, âYou canât actually think that I would do that.â
âI donât.â You admit, âMake your life easier if you were less loyal, though.â You pause, âIdiot.â The word is affectionate, and the corner of Howzerâs lips curl up into a small smile.
âWonder what having an easy life would be like,â He jokes, before he turns back to you, âAlright, move your hand.â You do as he asks, though you donât realize why heâs saying that until the sharp scent of alcohol reaches your nose.
You yelp and jerk back when an alcohol-soaked cloth presses against your side. Though, you donât get far.
âShh, shh,â he effortlessly tugs you closer, so he can keep the cloth pressed against your side, âIâm going to patch you up.â
âYou couldnât have given me some warning?â You choke out.
âSorry, adâika. But youâre kind of a baby when it comes to pain.â
You stare up at him through tear-filled eyes, âAnd you thought this would help? Youâre a jerk. Rex would neverââ You yelp again when his touch gets rough enough that it hurts.
The painful pressure vanishes almost immediately, âSorry, Iâm sorry! I forget that youâre so much more fragile than me.â Howzer blurts as he uses the sleeve of his jacket to wipe a tear from your cheek, âPlease donât cry.â
âI-itâs okay, you didnât mean it.â
Howzer sighs, âItâs not okay, but thank you.â He pulls some bandages from his bag, âI bet Rex would never forget that.â Thereâs something odd in his voice, and you realize, with a start, that heâs jealous.Â
âHowzer?â
âHm?â
âAre you jealous of Rex?â
He fumbles with the wrapper of the bandage, and his dark eyes flicker up to meet your gaze, before dropping back to your side, âCourse not.â
You stare at the top of his head for a moment, and then you sigh and reach up to run your fingers through his hair, âYou know youâre my favorite, right?â
âAre you allowed to have favorites?â Howzer asks as he applies the bandage and tapes it to your skin.
âI think youâll find that I donât care about whatâs allowed,â You counter, âYouâre my favorite, and Iâm glad that I ended up stranded here with you over anyone else.â
He finally meets your gaze, âYou hate being stranded anywhere.â Howzer corrects with a wry smile.
âSee, no one else knows me like you do.â
âWell, I have known you for years now,â
Your hand falls from his hair to rest against his cheek, just over his scar. There are so many things you want to tell him. So many thoughts you want to share.Â
Things that he deserves to know.
But the words seem to stick in your throat.
After all, thereâs no way he feels the same way for you as you do for him.
So, instead, you offer a tiny smile, âIâm guessing you have a plan.â
Howzer turns his head and presses a light kiss to the palm of your hand, âAlways do.â He pulls away from you, âAre you okay waiting here for me?â
âJust donât forget about me.â
âNever.â He stands and peels off his jacket, âHere, use this as a pillow and get some rest. Iâll be back when Iâm done.â
You take his jacket and fold it so you can lay down, âBe careful,â Howzer tosses you a wink, and then heâs gone.Â
And, now alone, you release a quiet sigh. âI love you, Howzer.â
@imabeautifulbutterfly
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@mira-loves-star-wars
@tiredbi-peach
@dukeoftheblackstar
@trixie2023
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@etod
@bb8-99
@kiss-anon
@continous-mistakes
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@maniacalbooper
@rebell-ious
#star wars#tbb#captain howzer x reader#howzer x reader#star wars fanfiction#x reader fanfiction#gn!reader fic#answered asks
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Important Things
Pairing: Lara Croft x GN!Reader
Requested By: @innammoratta
Word Count: ???
Summary: You and Lara are best friends in the middle of searching for the box of Ix Chel. When she gets injured and you two stop for the night to take care of her wounds, things come out that you never thought would.
Tags/Warnings: Lara and reader are best friends, based on the jaguar fight scene in the 'Shadow of the Tomb Raider' game, confessions, kissing, talk of Lara fighting the jaguar and skinning it, but nothing graphic or violent
A/N: This has been *checks calendar* over a year in the making đ§ââď¸I am so sorry to the person that requested this that it took me this long, me and writing are a weird one, but I finally managed to knock this out 𤊠hope it is to your liking, and to all the Lara Croft lovers out there, enjoy! đŤśđť
-
"Shit, Lara!" You strain to shout, fear buzzing through your body as you feel your heartbeat racing inside your chest.
Your sight of her is somewhat obscured by branches and other flora, but you can see enough to watch her as she struggles against the jaguars grip, its nails and teeth clawing against Lara's skin, and the sound of her in pain does nothing to make you feel more calm.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Hands on your head, you wrack your brain as for how to help, but your brain seems to blank, the only thing it's focusing on is seeing Lara in this dangerous situation. Your heart feels like it's about to explode, and your breathing has now become quickened and shallow. You hit yourself lightly on the head, eyes squeezed tightly shut as you force your brain to think.
If she dies right now, that's on you.
The though seems to kick your brain back to life as before you know it, you've grabbed the flare gun from your left pant leg strap and thrown it under the piece of stone towards a still struggling Lara.
"Lara! Flare gun!" You shout, hoping and praying that she gets it and can shoot the jaguar in time.
Everything seems to slow down as you watch Lara move to grab the gun, just narrowly missing another attack. Eyes becoming blurry as your fear increases, you can't properly make out anything else that seems to happen.
Crack.
Blinking rapidly, your eyes finally focus, noticing little sparks. Then a quick blur passing you makes you realise that you did it. She did it. Lara is back up with her bow drawn, ready to release it.
Hope bubbles up in your stomach, releasing a breath you didn't realise you were holding. Your fingers grip the long and heavy piece of stone, trying to lift it up enough so you can get underneath and help her but to no avail.
"Shit." You whisper to yourself as you pant, most of your energy having been exhausted.
You helplessly watch as Lara skillfuly takes out the jaguar, one well placed shot at a time.
"Lara!" You cry out once you see the animal drop dead, worried about her condition. Her head turns immediately to where you are, and she makes her way over towards you.
Without a word, you both lift up the stone, and you crawl underneath to the other side as quickly as you can. As soon as she drops it, you're quick to envelope her in a hug, tears streaming down your face.
"I'm so glad you're okay!" A hiss makes you immediately release your hold, resting your hands on her upper arms instead.
"I'm so sorry Lara. I wish I could've helped you more, I-"
"Hey, hey, it's okay, you helped me more than you know-"
"But it's not okay! I mean you could've-. You could've died Lara!"
She grabs your hands from her arms and holds them in front of you both. Your crying subsides a little, and you subconsciously welcome the warmth her hands bring to yours.
"But I'm not. I'm right here in front of you. And I'm not going anywhere. Understood?" She ressures you, her tone serious but with a sweet tinge.
You sniffle, a wobbly smile rising onto your lips, and one appears on Lara's too when she notices yours. Yours eyes flicker over her form, and that's when you notice just how battered and exhausted she looks.
"Are you okay?" You ask so quietly it's almost a whisper.
She releases her hands from yours and shrugs.
"I'm fine, just a little shaken up."
She turns and walks over to the jaguar to begin skinning it, and your eyes turn into saucers as you notice the huge gash on her back.
"Holy shit, Lara... your back." You exhale out. She stands up and turns to you after she's done. You grab her free hand.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Is all you can say, a million thoughts wracking through your brain.
-
It's nighttime, the both of you having found a place to start a fire and seek shelter for the night so you both can rest up and eat. Much to Lara's protest, you're in the middle of helping her clean up her wounds on her back as she's sewing something you can't exactly make yet out of the jaguar skin she got before.
"Sorry." You whisper out as you hear her hiss again from the pain of you dabbing a part of her back with an antiseptic and cloth.
"I had a dream about my mother recently."
You perk your head up, even though Lara can't see you.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. It was so vivid." You hear the happiness in her voice. You feel a smile perk up on your lips as you continue to take care of her wounds. It's quiet for a moment.
"I miss her."
You pause what you're doing and look at the back of her head. A pained grin appears on your mouth for a split second, then you continue to finish bandaging up her injury.
"I know you do."
Another moment goes by.
"If you had the box, then power to have any type of world you wished for. Would you do it." Lara asks you.
You ponder for a moment, a few ideas floating around your brain. But when your eyes fall back to her dark hair in front of you, you know your answer.
"No. I don't think I would."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. As much as there are plenty of things I would change in this world, everything I love is already in it." You say gently as you finish the last bandage, smoothing out Lara's back.
She feels that you've finished and turns around to face you, a small smile on her face.
"Like your stupid rock collection, or sushi, or your gaming console, huh?" She quips, an all-knowing smirk appearing on her lips.
You scoff and playfully roll your eyes, them landing back on her lips as you both start laughing.
"Yes, of course there are those, but there are also more important things than that."
"Like what?" She asks, and both of your laughing dies down.
Looking in her eyes, you notice how they're illuminated by the fire. You would walk through the fire in her eyes to truly see into her being and stay there.
Instinctively, you bring your right hand up and cup the side of her face. Her eyes widen. You gently rub your thumb on her cheek back and forth.
An owl hoots in the distance, cutting you out of whatever trance you were in. Blinking a few times, the realisation of what you've done hits you, and you go to pull your hand away.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so-"
You feel something stop you. Looking down, you see Lara's hand around your wrist. Your eyes flicker over to her face, and you notice her becoming a little flustered.
"No... it's okay." Lara whispers out as she slowly brings your palm back to the side of her face, leaning into it a little.
You swallow nervously, senses hightened by her touch. Has she always been this close to you this entire time? You were unsure, but couldn't think any further on it as you both stare into each others' eyes.
It feels so nice, you feel yourself getting warmer, an almost burning sensation in your chest. That's when the thought pops into your head.
You really want to kiss her.
You know you shouldn't. She's been your best friend for how many years? You're one of the only close people she has left. If you do anything stupid now and ruin what you two have, it'd be more devastating. But the urge doesn't leave, it crawling through your veins like an itch you can't scratch.
And then you see it.
Her eyes. Flicker down. To your lips.
You freeze at the realisation. What this could possibly mean.
You really want to kiss her.
Your eyes search hers, looking for something, though you're not sure what. Her eyes lock onto yours.
You really want to kiss her.
You notice her face move slowly towards yours as she moves her hand from your wrist all the way up your arm, around your shoulder, down your back until it sits on your waist.
You really want to kiss her.
Her face stops an inch before yours, so close you can feel her breath on your face. She looks into your eyes again one more time, as if she's waiting for you to pull back in disgust and adamantly say no.
You do nothing of the sort.
You kiss her.
The feeling of her lips is nothing like you've felt before. They're a little chapped, but it doesn't matter because you're kissing her.
You kiss her for what feels like minutes, as if you've been starved of her. Moving closer to each other, your other hand moves to the back of her neck, threading the tops of your fingers through her hair, whilst her other hand rests on your thigh.
When you both stop, you rest your foreheads against each other's, looking into each other's eyes as you both sheepishly smile.
A silence passes.
"You."
Confusion contorts on Lara's face.
"What?"
"I wouldn't change this world because you're in it."
Lara smiles lovingly at you as she rubs her thumb against your thigh.
"I wouldn't either."
~
Thank you so much for reading and I hope you all enjoyed! My ask box is open and currently taking any requests! Please check my pinned post for who I write and some rules. Have a great day :)
#lara croft x reader#lara croft oneshot#lara croft x reader oneshot#lara croft x gn!reader#lara croft x reader fluff#tomb raider x reader#lara croft fanfic#lara croft fanfiction
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the main characters of an original short comic iâve been working on based on the song ivy by taylor swift
edit: you can start reading it here!
#it's a work in progress! i've been wanting to make this comic ever since the song came out#i want to make it even better than my dorothea/'tis the damn season comic#and try to not get injured in the middle of it this time;;#it will update one page at a time on both my twitter and instagram#i'm still deciding if i should update one page at a time here too or wait until they're all done first#i'm always nervous to share original art haha;; please look forward to it!#ivy comic#taylor swift#ivy comic mimimar#artists on tumblr#wlw#sapphic#lesbian#wlw art#sapphic art#lesbian art#ivy#willow#oc
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Realised itâs @khoc-week so even though I donât have the energy to do it daily have this I did a while ago but never posted.
Arxeht my beloved. They came to me in a dream where I was a replica (of multiple people but looked most like Vidar) made by apprentice Nort/Xemnas, who was the fifteenth member of the organisation and also had my knowledge of hit video games Kingdom Hearts and kept getting randomly thrown through space and time.
#khocweek2024#kh oc#kh ocs#kingdom hearts oc#kingdom hearts original character#Arxeht#blue boi draws#kingdom hearts#kh#Arxeht my beloved I love them#Apprentice Nort started making them to help figure out memories and based them on people heâd get glimpses of in dreams#but he got distracted and only came back and finished them/woke them up around the beginning of Days after Xion#meaning they are theoretically younger then Xion and Roxas but with the way they act and view the others theyâre older#they woke up sorta all at once unlike Roxas and Xion. they also have basic knowledge about General Like that the kiddos lack#also their knowledge of how the game plays out is from the perspective of someone who played the games.#like theyâd know the âpress triangle for Soraâ meme and the differences between CoM and ReCoM and refer to time periods by their game name#also VERY AWARE that most kh games are tragedies and desperately trying to change that despite not really having the power to do so#Arxeht is shit at fighting but is saved from getting injured by any time theyâre about to get hit it triggers a jump through time/space#and the jumps can be really far and in fast succession. they start a jump in twilight town and are thrown through Daybreak Town#and like two other worlds until they settle and fef a chance to breathe. its handy because they wont die but jumps can happen#in the middle of a conversation or while theyâre trying to get somewhere in particular and then suddenly theyâre ten years in the past#in a whole different world. it sucks.#can you tell the dream they came from was a stress dream? 90% of what I remember from it was running around trying to get to Xion and Roxas#and keep them safe. the other 10% was the org not knowing what to think of Arx and Xemnas being weird#Arxeht is heart + x in a reflection of Xehanort being no heart + x btw. that did not come from the dream I made it awake#Xemnas was weird he had a very distant vaguely amused view on everything Arxeht was doing I donât think he ever thought of them as a threat#unlike Xigbar who was concerned which is fair because Arxeht knew he was Luxu and about MoM and stuff#the time jumps can get really long as well but tend to avoid kh era?? days onwards and bbs and before is fair game but they dont actually#meet Sora until kh2.#their main power is information. they know who people are and whatâs going on and they are constantly trying to tell people during the
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Halloween costume hint:
(The stitch marker and the word that describes this colour-pattern of yarn [or fabric] are 2 more hints.)
#i make no guarantees of finishing in time for halloween tho im going thru a lot rn#i DID finish a second pair of Scream yarn socks today tho!!#i just wanted to give my fingers a little break from knitting socks but i have other halloween sock yarn i plan on working on#(november is halloween 2 for me)#but yeah i saw a sample of yarn using this type of seamless cast on (provisional cast on / circular tubular cast on) last night...#...while half asleep and was immediately like Oh. I HAVE to do that costume idea now.#i flubbed the crochet part bc the way i did it made the stitches twisted when i knitted it...#...and i had to pull out every crochet stitch one by one. lol. but at least i know for next time how i gotta crochet it to be open stitches#also i knit backwards (mirrored) so i was surprised i managed to figure out the tutorial on the first go...#...bc the person filming described their actions instead of just showing it so i only needed to listen. it makes a world of difference to me#anyway. now that i got that started i have been shaking in pain all day i gotta try n shower before it gets too late#apparently my new back xrays show that my back does have an issue. but not on the spot thats hurting lmao.#so i get to do an mri and see a back specialist ughhh. also the pharmacy is refusing to fill pain meds for me. it sucks.#AND i finally got a physical therapy appointment.... for the middle of december.... guys i injured my back and#....have been trying to get in to PT since fucking MAY. its OCTOBER.#like fuck my life man i can barely fucking walk. i can barely take care of myself. the pain had been SO bad since i recently reinjured it#so yeah i gotta try n shower before i pass out from the pain.#knitting#Cori.exe#Image.exe#fiber art#horror#halloween#also like this yarn is the closest i could get to colour accuracy that i have in my yarn bin and i only have 1 skein of it which is perfect#bc it means i get to use up probably the whole skein and it makes a difference in the amount of yarn i need to use out of my bin lol#especially bc what other use am i ever going to get out of one skein of yarn? nothing but socks take one skein.#my worst yarn habit is seeing a cool yarn and then buying just one or two skeins. like thats fine for a hat or scarf...#...but i need to learn to knit and crochet more things. id like to make a sweater at least once in my life lmao#((sweater yarn gets so expensive tho bc u need so much. and we're back to me wanting to reduce my yarn stash))#personal
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ways my emotional support cat has emotionally supported me thus far:
-got the zoomies while I was crying and distracted me by being fucking goofy
-found a bottle of Lexapro that had rolled under my bed (after he knocked it off my nightstand, but he did find it)
-crawled up on my shoulders like a parrot, preventing me from getting any work done (benefit unclear), pic related
-whined like a little baby when I wouldn't let him bite my face (???)
-REFUSES to let me piss without supervision (the bathroom door doesn't close all the way sometimes and he just bonks into it until it opens)
-forces me to get out of bed and bothers me relentlessly when I don't (this one actually is really helpful)
-does this:
#his official esa status is pending with the university but since we live in family housing and not the dorms now theyve been chill#like. they let toddlers live here they can handle a more or less well behaved cat#hes well behaved in the sense hes not destructive at least. he is kind of a little menace though#see above wrt biting me on the nose#we looked up why he does that- apparently some cats give love bites bc theyre trying to groom you like another cat#and the solution is to hiss and meow like a sad injured kitten so he thinks he bit too hard and stops doing it#but the problem with mr man over here#is that when you do that#he will lick you as an apology (insert picture ''a tiny apology'') and then bite you again but softer#rinse and repeat until he gets huffy that you dont want to be bitten#and goes and sits across the room to gaze at you scornfulky#so thats why we have to kick him out of our room at night#hes like the 5th cat ive had in my life and the only one that does this#granted of the other 4. 2 were feral rescue kittens who were middle age by the time i was even born#and the other 2 we adopted when i was like 9 so they were mostly trained by my mom#who runs a TIGHT fuckin ship#anyway hes the loviest little baby boy ever#cult classic alias booboo
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twitter suspends me for "violent speech" seconds after i make a joke about tapeworm physiology but the overwhelming amount of people who responded to wednesdays shooting by blaming lewistons somali community are just fine? fuck offff
#like getting suspended was funny for a second and then i remembered the actual droves of violent speech under headlines whilei was trying to#make sure my classmate and her children were safe and checking in with my coworkers who go to lewiston auburn all the time.#when the pictures came out immediately somebody expressed disappointment that he wasnt black#every other comment stated âhes obviously middle eastern look he has middle eastern featuresâ on a super blurry security cam screenshot.#im so sick of it. people died. we lost 4 members of the deaf community and at least 2 more were injured. one of the victims was 14 years ol#this is jjust i mean. on top of horrific zionist comments that go undetected because people controlling media and censorship just dont care#and actively promote israel propoganda and censorship of palestinian voices and resistance#sorry my thoughts are all oer the place. i am trying to continue to spread awareness and updates on palestine but this shooting happened#literally less than half an hour from where i live and work. lewistons community is intertwined with my daily life so i will be pretty voca#about it on top of sharing as much as i can on palestine#okay also to clarify i do not want to suggest what happened here is more important than what is going on in gaza rn.#i do not want to draw attention away from this genocide and i firmly believe focusing as much energy as possible into spreading awareness a#and donating/protesting/campaigning anything whatever is possible is most important right now.#overwhelmed as i am by the tragedy in my community it will never stop me from advocating for palestines freedom. i do not believe anyone#not directly affected has a right to âtake a breakâ from this issue
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welcome to my smau list!! ૮ę°ŕžŕ˝˛âŠÂ´ áľ `âŠęąŕžŕ˝˛á
๨ৠfeel free to send an ask to my inbox if u have an idea for a smau (no suggestive prompts for under 18 characters) ๨ŕ§
jjk smaus
âż asking jjk men if you can hold their đ while they pee
âż showing the jjk men ur new piercings
âż asking the jjk men if you can peg them
âż changing âbabeâ to autocorrect to âwhoreâ in their phone
âż âshes busy rnâ
âż leaving without telling the jjk guys
âż âheâs busy rnâ
âż getting ur nails the color of their tip
âż forbidden relationships
âż drawing a heart with their tip
âż baby fever
âż drunk texting the jjk men
âż jjk men having a wet dream about you
âż asking them for a hand pic
âż jjk mean reacting to their contact name
âż asking jjk characters what their fav sex act is
âż telling the jjk guys you spent $200 on tire air
âż âwrong personâ nudes prank
âż jjk characters reactions to you getting harassed/ hit in
âż jjk characters finding out you got injured
âż ass or tits
âż giving them suprise flowers
âż asking the jjk characters to take your virginity
âż telling the jjk characters you want to get them pregnant
âż getting flowers from someone else and thinking it was from them
âż getting jealous of you hanging out with someone else
âż stealing your panties
âż cuddles after sex
âż innapropreate package mixup
âż wax my đ˝
âż sending them porn you wanna recreate
âż when they drunk text you
âż them asking you on a date for the first time
âż sending nudes in the middle of an argument
âż getting a necklace with their initial
âż being a woman/man for a day question
âż controlling your bluetooth vibe
âż when you leave a kiss mark on them
âż asking you to stay the night for the first time
âż the call ending after you fall
âż âthey just left you can come over nowâ
âżâif i gave you a pass to call me a bitch how would you use itâ
âż âi didnât finish last nightâ prank
âżâi got arrestedâ
âż when they find ur smut
âż editing them to look bad in a photo
âż accidentally sending them nudes (pre relationship)
âż the jjk characters sending you gym pics
âż getting scared watching a scary movie
âż finding out they punched ur stuffed animals
âż when they see you in someone elseâs jacket
âż asking them their fav pet name is in bed
âż when you start your period unprepared
âż when you see them with another girls belongings
âż asking them if they like having sex with you
âż asking them for happy trail pics
âż when they ask for nudes and you send an unsuggestive pic
âż asking them if they have a crush on you
âż when they find ur toy
âż anxious before ur wedding
âż taking pics of you when you fall asleep
âż asking them for a whimper audio
âż when they cheat on you
âż having a dream they cheated on you
âż when they get hit on/harassed
âż the morning after ur first time having sex
âż accidentally saying i love you for the first time before ending the call
âż asking them if they only like you for sex
âż offering them head to relax them
âż asking them to kill a spider for you
âż their reactions to a sexy picture you posted
âż pregnancy scary
âż âsex has been boringâ prank
âż their card declined prank
âż getting lost in public
âż asking them if you can stack donuts on it
âż asking them to pick out a new toy for you
âż waking up in their body
âż them reacting to you crying over a dumb video
âż catching them masturbating
âż getting a noise complaint
âż when they catch you masturbating
âż when they catch you singing
âż finding a hair that isnât urs
âż telling them their nut tastes bad
âż trying anal
âż comforting you when youâre burnt out
âż when they take an aphrodisiac
âż asking them to find ur đ˝ in a lineup
âż asking them how much money they have
âż asking about a threesome
âż whatâs their sexual fantasy?
âż asking them if theyâll put it in soft
âż slapping their ass and running away
âż asking them for their friends number
âż selling their stuff online prank
âż asking if theyâd get a genital piercing
âż making them sleep on the couch
âż asking what their body count is
âż asking them to give you a hickey
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endpoint
Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader
Genre: fluff, smut, angst, FWB to idiots to lovers
warnings: Â cumshot/facial, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex (m & f receiving), rough sex, breath play (choking), mentions of exhibitionism, face fucking, virgin wonwoo mentions, idiots in love, edging (emotionally), impact play, sir kink (brief), alcohol consumption
Length: ~19.5k
Note: thank you to @gyuswhore my love, my life, for suffering through this with me. this fic is set in the same universe as her gyu fic for this collab so check it out (threat). also thank u @haologram and everyone else who beta'd this for me bc im sensitive. follow @camandemstudios for more fics!!! i will come back later and tag the people who commented on the teaser but rn im getting day drunk hehehe
summary: Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. Itâd be a piece of cake if it wasnât for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the departmentâs most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing youâve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.
collab m.list || m.list
This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.
âWhatâs the difference between a proton and an electron again?â
âShoot me in the fucking head,â Wonwoo whispers harshly.
Heâs a seat over, a laptop covered in gaming stickers and a coffee cup containing a lethal amount of caffeine occupying the space atop the narrow lecture desk. Itâs a feign to productivity. His screen is split between thesis notes and a countdown to a new video game release that unfortunately hits 0 in the middle of lecture.Â
Dr. Wagnerâs intro to chemistry course isnât difficult â freshman aside â which is why you and Wonwoo agreed to be her teaching assistants. Easy money and a way to get in her good graces come grad school application season. Youâve TAâed the same course since sophomore year for different professors but itâs all the same; the metaphorical killing field before hopeful freshmen become cannon fodder in the real trial of will: O Chem.Â
âMe first,â you whisper back.Â
Wonwoo slumps in his chair, opening the shared drive keeping track of problem areas to touch on in lab hours, and typing âcheck for basic brain activityâ under the class To-Do list.Â
Fair enough. If they canât understand the basics this far into the semester then you two are in for a world of hurt for the next practical. You're in for a world of hurt come next study hall when half of them will complain about failing their quiz this morning despite having the answers spoon fed straight from the notes.
[09:48] You:Â be nice
[09:48] wonwoo: if they were smarter, id be nicer
[09:48] You: maybe theyâre scared stupid
It wouldnât be too far off. One time a freshman burst into tears while asking Wonwoo to check their practice work during lab hours. Wonwoo swears he didnât say anything and the kid looked on the verge of a mental breakdown if the wind blew the wrong way.
[09:48] wonwoo: from what?
[09:48] You: the fact ur trying to kill them with your mind
[09:49 ]wonwoo : i wouldnât kill them
[09:49] wonwoo: just maim or seriously injure so they dont come to class and say dumb shit
Dr. Wagner fields more questions in front of the powerpoint. More âdumb shitâ Wonwoo rolls his eyes at with such obvious disgust even you feel chastised. Luckily, no one can see his face from the front row besides you.
[09:49] You: you wonder why they like me more
[09:50] wonwoo: i know why they like you more
[09:50] You: oh?
Stifling an eye roll of your own you throw a glance his way as the next message comes through,
[09:50] wonwoo: nice ass
âAlright, Y/N and Wonwoo will be passing out the study guide for the next exam. We still have a few weeks so donât worry about the back half but try and review the modules weâve done so far and bring questions for them during study hours,â Dr. Wagner prattles off.
The gigantic stack of printouts is split in half for you and Wonwoo to disperse around the massive lecture hall. Over one hundred students sit in this lecture; the unfortunate ones who were forced to take a 9 AM course three days a week. Half look like their brain is melting out of their ears, otherâs clearly havenât paid attention at all, and a few are sound asleep. Itâs Friday after all. They probably didnât get back from their Thirsty Thursday night out until a few hours ago.
You wouldnât even be here if Wonwoo wasnât a built in insurance policy.
Dr. Wagner collects her things and heads towards the front exit with a cheery, âHave a good weekend!â
âThere's a party at Sigma tonight,â Wonwoo shares as you both pack your own bags. The next class is already shuffling through the doors to claim their seats.
âI have work until eleven.â
âAfter?â
Shouldering your bag, you head towards the door where the next class is already trickling in to find their seats. âDonât you have a tournament tomorrow?â
âI only have to be at the party for like an hour. I can come and walk you home.â
âFine,â you nod. âBut bring your laptop. I think Chan fucked up the last set of results and we need to fix them.â
Itâs not unusual for Wonwoo to spend his Friday nights with you; or another night for that matter. He lives in a dingy frat house on the edge of campus with twenty other guys. Itâs an act of mercy. A long standing tradition from the week before freshman year when you two were the only chemistry majors in your orientation group and that turned into a clumsy hook up at an upperclassmanâs party. You didnât know heâd be a virgin and he didnât know your high school boyfriend dumped you less than twenty four hours before you left for college (but not before you lost your own virginity in the backseat of his car).Â
Itâd beenâŚnot good.Â
Wonwoo was awkward and you were unsure. But he was sweet under the bravado; walked you home that night, pretended he wasnât interested in the fact your roommate never moved in, leaving the suite empty. But he wasnât a good enough actor to feign nonchalance when you invited him upstairs. Turns out sex was a lot better the second time around, in a bed that didnât belong to an unknown upperclassman who couldâve burst in any minute.Â
Wonwoo isnât your boyfriend. Youâre too busy piecing together the ten year plan concocted since junior year of highschool to even think about such frilly ideas. Thereâs barely enough time as it is; youâve got work, a full class schedule, TAing, and all the random clubs youâve wiggled your way into to pad your resume.Â
And heâs busy too. Navigating a sports scholarship and one of the hardest majors left barely enough time for him to wipe his own ass, let alone date. Then came research hours and TAing and the fact volleyball, apparently, wasnât just a one semester sport, there were scrimmages, workouts, and tournaments out of season.Â
Itâs been over three years of your arrangement which works best because you donât have to spend precious brain power deciphering if some random guy you went out with once is playing hard to get or just straight up not interested. You have Wonwoo. Heâs simple.Â
So what you have now, friends. Who hook up. And work together. Who also happens to be applying for the same PhD program for next year. Not together but at the same time.
The application website stares back from your laptop with horror.Â
Itâs still too early to submit any materials but itâs been highlighted in bold red in your calendar since two years ago. Everything is ready to go the second it opensâexcept Dr. Wagnerâs recommendation. Itâs the sole reason you (and Wonwoo) agreed to be her TAs this semester; sheâs one of the programâs most notorious alum, her words as good as gold in securing a spot.Â
Someone hacks a cough and shatters the eerie silence of the library. The backtrack of sparse typing and the custodian shuffling around to have been the only company throughout your shift. No one would choose to rot at any of the weathered study tables late on a Friday night so early in the semester.Â
With the abundance of free time, you fixed Chanâs mistakes in his set of trials easily, no thanks to Wonwoo who still hasnât shown up. Itâs good though. Your stoichiometry homework is submitted three days before the deadline and the mountain of emails clogging your inbox from hopeless undergrads is in the single digits. Half the labs from last week are graded for Dr. Wagnerâs approval, the other half can wait until Sunday night. A long weekend of sleep awaits once the clock hits eleven and youâre free to run home.
Wonwoo stumbless in five minutes before the clock runs out. His duffle for tomorrow is slung over his shoulder and heâs already dressed for bed, rumpled sweats and a hat he definitely wore to the party with high hopes to cut out early.Â
âYouâre late,â you acknowledge, cramming your belongings back into your bag. Heâs close enough to get a whiff of. âAnd youâre drunk.â
âI am not drunk,â he argues.
The lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips says otherwise but it isnât an argument worth having. All you want to do is get home and pass out.
He shoulders you bag, presenting his hand when you insist you can carry it on your own. The dry warm of his palm against your cold is pleasant enough you donât argue as you tug him towards the automatic doors.
âHave a goodnight, Mr. Lee,â you call towards the security desk.
The guard, old enough to be your grandfather, calls back, âYou too, sweetheart.â
Out in the balmy night, you tug Wonwoo down the street in the direction of your apartment. Two blocks and then a right turn leaving you outside the dowdy building with hallways that constantly reek of weed and new paint smell.
A pack of freshmen girls heading somewhere, marked by their matching uniform of jeans and black tops of various coverage, crowd the sidewalk straight ahead. Someone is crying, one is on the phone, and a few others stand dumbly waiting for their next movie like zombies â all incredibly wasted. You barrel through them without acknowledgement. A few drunken bitter âbitchâs hit your back but you ignore them to focus on the man struggling to push through the crowd without accidentally shoulder checking any of them.
On the other side, you ask, âHave fun at the party?â
âSome pledge puked on Jihoonâs stuff,â he huffs, nose scrunching.
âMay he rest in peace.â
Wonwoo sways from side to side from the weight of your bag but also whatever radioactive mix was served at the party. The stairs provide an extra challenge since the elevator has been broken for weeks but thankfully itâs a short trip to the second floor.
He presents your belongings with routine ease once the front door of your apartment looms ahead. Music from the floor above shakes the walls; hopefully you can make up for the lack of sleep tomorrow morning.
There isnât much space inside the four walls you call home â the âkitchenâ which is a single counter with a stove and fridge youâre barely around to use, fifteen feet away your bed in the corner, bordered by your desk at the foot cramped with a spray of errant papers and books youâve been too busy to deal with. The monitor doubles as a TV and finally a tiny loveseat with a broken leg replaced by a stack of hard covers completes the room.
You beeline for the bathroom to wash away the filth of a long day and Wonwoo, keeping on trend, follows into the cramped space.
âCan I help you?â you ask, shirt tossed into the bin in the corner.
Wonwooâs shirt goes the same and then his pants after a brief struggle. âYou know I sleep better when I shower.âÂ
True.
âAnd I doubt you're gonna let me in your bed if Iâm dirty.â
Even truer.
The water is still cold when you step in but the man glued to your back fights the worst of the chill away. Goosebumps prickle along your skin but have nothing to do with the vent that points directly into the stall (whoever designed the apartments must have had a sick sense of humor) and everything to do with Wonwooâs mouth tracing the curve of your shoulder.
Forcing the heat blooming between your legs down to a simmer, you focus on washing up and getting into bed before it rolls into a boil and you do something stupid thatâll only leave you and Wonwoo struggling for balance.Â
Shower sex is a dangerous sport. Shower sex with Wonwoo has left you both with bruises. Drunken shower sex with Wonwoo will get you both killed.
Soft hums tickle your neck as you clean up. There isnât enough room for two people to stand in the spray at once so you take turns hogging the steamy water and braving the frigid cold until the last bits of soap swirl the drain.
Even when drying off you stay in each otherâs orbit until the need for clothes and sleep drive you both out of the bathroom and back into the equally cramped space of your room.
Itâs not until youâre laying on the mattress, darkness snug on all sides, that you feel Wonwoo roll atop you with purpose.
âWhat are you doing?â
âNothing,â Wonwoo hums into your stomach, fingers crawling up your bare legs.
âThat,â you inhale at the nip of his teeth on the curve of your thigh, âdoesnât feel like nothing to me.â
Wonwoo doesnât answer but gives you plenty of time to brush him off while bruising your skin. You donât. Instead you sink deeper into the blankets and let him push your shirt up until you're bare once more.
The fuzziness of alcohol lingers in his veins â just enough that he smiles into the strip of skin above your panties as you sigh and arch under the delicious weight of wandering hands and mouth at your nipple.
âWonwoo,â you sigh and heâs up and kissing you with eager clumsiness.
A familiar prod at your core through his boxers crashes bubbles through your veins. You felt it in the bathroom but now is when you finally get to indulge with subtle grinds Wonwoo meets in his own search for friction.Â
âDonât you need to be upâughâearly tomorrow?â
He kisses you slowly, tongue dragging along your bottom lip until your mouth opens under his. It burns you from the inside out. Mindlessly you shift your legs to frame his hips better but Wonwoo kisses deeper and all you can think about is giving in to whatever scheme heâs working up to have you both naked and panting.
He leans back a fraction to speak, giving in when you chase his lips before ducking to nip at your ear and mumbling a response. âDonât worry about it.â
âI will worry about it when you snooze twenty alarms and your team hunts me down because I smothered their star player with a pillow,â you snort but heat under a squeeze of his fingers at your sides.
âSleep when Iâm done with this.â
âAnd what is âthisâ exactly?â
A harsh suck at your jaw has your stomach tight. heavy and thick until need drips down your spine to coil in your gut and the emptiness between your thighs becomes unignorable. He hides pleased groans in the curve of your neck until you force a hand under the band of his underwear. Eyes opening, you watch the muscles of his back tense and flex as he rocks against you, fucking your fist greedily.
It doesnât last long. Wonwoo gets antsy under the taunting pressure of your thumb and descends back down your body with burning lips. âTake your shirt off.â
âItâs cold,â you complain but do as he asks.Â
He traces your figure clad in nothing but your glasses and a soiled pair of panties; damp at the crotch from his attention and Wonwoo slips a finger under the hem to tease you that inch closure to depravity.
Wonwoo laves against the hickey on the inside of your thigh from a week ago, itâs yellowed and perfectly shaped like his mouth. Itâs tender under his attention, even the gentle tracing on his nose forcing you to wince in discomfort.Â
He coos, kissing it before skating back to the hem of your panties, lips vibrating against your skin. âSorry I didnât come earlier.â
Why he brings it up now is a mystery. Or the fact he brings it up at all. Life happens. Youâve blown him off more than once for a late night in the library; no hard feelings.
âItâs fine,â you sigh as he tugs the last scrap of fabric off your body and pushes your knees up to display you like a meal.
Spreading you apart, he lands a wet kiss at your entrance before teasing with the heat of his tongue.Â
In a beg for sanity you twist a tight grip in his hair; a tangled mess from his drunk endeavors. Wonwoo pushes harder, drowns in your taste with enthusiasm as you moan and sigh.Â
âF-fuck.â
He wonât ask if itâs good. He knows it is. Nearly four years of hook ups attunes him to your pleasure, a well rehearsed routine that has you both ache in the best way.Â
You lose yourself in shaking breaths, feet planted to drive up into his mouth for more. He sucks your clit and nearly gets his head crushed by your thighs. It doesnât take much and he knows it.Â
You chant âgonna cumâ in choked groans that almost die at the edge of your teeth but Wonwoo hears and takes it as permission to pull out the stops, hand at your thing with a harsh grip and fingers sinking home.
Heâs memorized all the signs of your want; the wrecked echo of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you a clear tell. He flattens his tongue, holding steady as grind straight into mindless bliss. Spit pools and drips and slips down onto the sheets. Wonwoo hums praise, unintelligible but you vaguely know itâs something thatâd make you blush you could hear it over the pounding in your ears.
Back arching, your vision flares white at the edges and when Wonwoo realizes what's happening he makes it last until your fist ball up and youâre floating.
Wonwoo backs down as you twitch through the tail end, sloppy kisses to your clit that could knock into another fit if he isnât careful. But even as you tremble the only thing you want is the weight of his cock in your mouth, or inside you. You arenât picky as long as you get to feel him cum too.
You finally manage to pry Wonwoo from between your legs with an ankle to his ribs. Youâre not done with him despite the fatigue hanging around your shoulders like dead weight. He angles over top of you for a kiss that tastes too much like pussy for your liking but itâs hot knowing heâs covered in you so you push until his shoulders meet the sheets and you can claim his lap.
His dick strains through his underwear, preening when you rock back into the heat. His nostrils flare when you grab for it, stiff enough to sink onto easily.Â
âOh god,â he groans, head digging back into the pillows to watch you like a goddess.
His fingers web across the tops of your thighs, a harsh grip keeping you flat as he grinds up into the wet heat of your pussy. You whimper and sigh for him; all the sounds he loves to hear. You squeeze your chest, taut nipples framed between the slants of your fingers to entice him until he reaches around and knocks you forward for the sole purpose of taking one in his mouth.
Your eyes roll back, jaw locked open, drowning in the stretch and the bite of his mouth and the hands squeezing your ass so hard it hurts. Wonwoo groans, throaty and desperate. âGonna cum. Wanna cum in you. Holy shit.â
He gets you on your back. Too absorbed in his own end, heâs dead weight with his tongue between your lips and harsh thrusts that take him right to the edge. It gives that grit against your clit that means youâll come too, soaked in cum and spit and sweat.
You wish heâd flip you on your front and fuck you with a hand between you shoulder blades and the other tangled in your hair. Thatâs the kind of fuck thatâd leave you satisfied the entire weekend heâs busy but heâs running out of steam just doing this, picking up speed in his thrust, the clap of bodies filling the room.
Chanting his name like a broken record, âWonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwooâ breathy but loud enough your neighbors will leave another passive aggressive note on your door come morning, all you can think about is his cum. On you, in you. A sick part wants him to pull out and cum on your face â he hasnât, not in a long time because priorities and responsibilities and you're usually lucky to have even five minutes alone before someone needs either of you. But you want it. God do you want it.
âCum on my face,â you whimper. Thereâs drool on your lips and sweat in your hairline. Even if he doesn't, you'll need another shower anyway.
A strangled noise escapes from between his teeth at your neck. Then heâs driving forward so hard you burn; painfully so, mouth locked in a silent choke. Your orgasm rips through your insides, jagged at the edges where Wonwoo fucks himself into your guts.Â
âFuck yeah,â he grunts, pulling away and replacing the grip of your pussy with a tight fist as he straddles your chest.Â
The taste of cock floods your tongue, heady and intoxicating. You get one, two drags against the stiff head and then heâs cumming, dripping his spend over your lips, then your cheek, then your glasses because heâs a sick freak. Even in the dim light from the window he twitches at the sight. You open your mouth and replace his hold, moaning as more comes to the surface. You swallow down as far as heâll go which isnât much in this position but itâs the thought that counts.
Wonwoo grinds to halt with an occasional kick of his hips that leaves you choking â rigid limbs locking in place until he melts with sticky satisfaction.Â
Heâs up and off, your glasses in hand for a thorough cleaning, not even bothering to flick on any of the lights but you hear the sink running in the bathroom before he comes padding back.
âGod,â you whimper in disgust. âThatâs so gross.â
âYouâre the one who asked for it,â Wonwoo snorts, soft passes of a damp cloth on your skin focused on getting you clean enough to sleep.
âBecause itâs hot but you aim for shit.â
Wonwoo tosses the rag somewhere, flopping down and pulling you close as possible with a kiss on your forehead. âNext time Iâll aim for your hair.â
âBitch.â
The sound of music from upstairs pulses through your head as you drift off, Wonwoo asleep on your chest, fingers laced together on the sheets beside your indecipherably intertwined bodies.
Your week is divided into a simple pattern. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you wake bright and early to attend Dr. Wagnerâs chem lecture and then stay on campus attending every other class you could find to fill the gap between your evening shift at the library. Tuesdays and Thursdays are void of responsibility until your afternoon lab with the freshman near tears while learning basic titration for four hours, followed by office hours where said freshman finally come to actually cry about their grades. Those are the nights you, Chan, Wonwoo and a handful of other lab techs work on research that carries the same threat of waterworks.Â
Itâs there Dr. Wagner pulls you and Wonwoo aside.
âI know you both are applying to Dr. Collins lab for your PhD studies,â she starts.Â
Her office reflects the same disarray as her personality; warm and lived in. Papers and exams are organized in chaos, thick stacks lining her desk waiting for you and Wonwoo to enter them into the online grade book. Books, some leather, some paperback, some the glossy cover of a textbook with cracked spines and yellowing pages are crammed into the bookshelves lining the walls until they threaten to collapse from the weight. It smells like coffee, plants, and the candle she always has burning. Itâs a cozy hovel overlooking the rear courtyard of the science building that resembles the sterility of a hospital.Â
Wonwoo occupies the other barrel chair with worn upholstery. Youâve barely seen him in the past three weeks, too busy with volunteering and working and classes while his own responsibilities keep him so exhausted itâs truly a miracle heâs even here. Dark stains ring his eyes beneath his glasses and he looks paler than usual. Youâll ask about it tonight when he comes over to work on your most recent stoichiometry project (which will be forgotten in favor of passing out during a movie while you play with his hair if history is anything to go by).
âI donât think Iâve ever met two students who belong more in his lab,â she continues.
You try not to preen, but academic validation is a hell of a drug to caffeine addicted undergrads. Wonwoo perks up too. Three and a half years of barely being people for this moment and itâs finally in reach.
âHowever,â Dr. Wagner clasps her hands atop the dark wooden desk. âIâm writing only one recommendation this semester. It might seem unfair but I want to commit to the student that deserves it the most since my schedule doesnât allow me much free time.â
Itâs like being underwater. You hear her words but nothing registers, blinking rapidly in case this is a hallucination from falling asleep in the lab again.
âI know it might not be the news you hoped for but I know senior year is a lot, especially for students as involved as you all, and I thought this could alleviate some of the stress. You two are the only students Iâm considering. So please, keep up the incredible work and we can talk again at the end of the semester when I have a more holistic evaluation of your progress.â
She stands to leave, snagging her purse and blowing out the candle with finality before abandoning the shit storm in your lap for whatever else she has to do on a Thursday night. Probably retell the events of the last five minutes to other professors in the department, laughing at the way youâve turned purple from holding your breath.
âHave a good night you two! See you tomorrow!â
The office, once warm, feels hollow. You feel hollow.Â
âWhat the fuck?â Wonwoo hasnât moved either, glued to his seat as he stares at Dr. Wagnerâs now vacant chair with his mouth wide in shock.
âDid that just happen?â you scoff in disbelief. âIs she serious?â
Wonwoo collapses over his knees with his hands scrubbing at his face like he also might be hallucinating. âI needed that recommendation.â
âWell, so do I,â you argue.
âI know. This is bullshit.â
âDid Changkyun say anything like this happened last year when she wrote one for him?â
âNo, all three people who asked her got one.â
âOh, so itâs just us she hates. Great!â you throw your hands up, sinking deeper in the chair. Maybe itâll swallow you whole and the entire ordeal will cease to exist.
âSheâs probably just trying to get in our heads so we donât slack off this semester.â
âHave we ever slacked off any semester? Iâve been on the Presidentâs Honor List since freshman year. Youâve been on the Presidentâs Honor List since freshman year. Weâre those people.â
Since starting college, since that one night during orientation where you and Wonwoo became a âweâ. Not in the relationship sense, but in the way two lines merge. Same path, same goals, same classes, same PhD program prospects. There was plenty you two did separately but more you did together. Neither competing, but working together.Â
But now thatâs over.
Because only one of you can get into Dr. Collins lab, only one of you can get the recommendation, and only one of you can have what you both worked tirelessly for over the past three years.
âListenââ you stand up and scrub at your own face. âItâll be fine. Weâll figure it out.â
âWe? Only one of us can get her recommendation. Whatâs there to figure out?â
Your face goes hot. Heâs right. âWell, I need that recommendation.â
âSo do I,â Wonwoo argues, eyes cold.
âFine.â
That recommendation is mine.
âFine!â
Weâll see about that.
Wonwoo stays in her office, flinching as you slam the door and flee.
The issue with fighting with Wonwoo is that as mad as both of you are, there are a million responsibilities you share that require close proximity.
Presently, itâs grading the last batch of exams. Seventy eight packets. And because Dr. Wagner doesnât believe in convenience, it all has to be graded by the hand of two TAs running on nothing but caffeine and spite.
Which means itâs past midnight and the couch has a permanent impression of Wonwooâs ass while you both silently fume and scratch through wrong answers with a heavy hand in red ink.
The weather reflects the atmosphere; pouring rain and thunder loud enough to shake the windows. The power has flickered in and out since the rain started but you're both too stubborn to call it quits â if there is nothing to keep you occupied then you might rip his throat out.
Wonwoo doesnât even ask if you want more coffee before he snags your empty mug and moves to the kitchenette. You donât look up when he sets it back down, and only grab it and take the first sip of perfectly steaming hot sweetness when he flops back on the couch without another word.Â
Then the power goes out again, and doesnât come back.
âAre you fucking kidding me?â
Using the flashlight on your phone, you search the drawers of your desk for candles. There nowhere to be found amongst the stacks of unopened sticky notes and tangled cords.Â
Wonwoo shuffles behind you, papers landing on the coffee table completely abandoned. âWeâve been at this for hours. Letâs just go to sleep.â
âI have them in here somewhere,â you bite, another handful of chargers and a stapled youâve never used and other things you didnât even realize you own fill the drawer. You move to the second. âThereâs only a few tests left.â
âWe can do them tomorrow. It can wait.â
âNo,â you spit like a curse.
Whatever Wonwoo was planning to say dies on his lips. âFine.âÂ
His shirt lands over your head, you rip it off only to find him half naked in the dark, huddling under one of the throw blankets you keep on the back of the couch. âWhat are you doing?â
âIâm sleeping.â
âOn the couch?âÂ
âYep.â
âYouâre too tall.â
âWell,â he draws like a pouty kid. âI donât feel like sharing the bed with you.â
In a way itâs safer to argue about something trivial like this versus the entire reason youâve iced each other out since that day in her office. Because at least like this, you wonât lose him. Itâs stupid and petty but at least youâre speaking to each other; breaking through that wall of silence thatâs been steadily growing more and more unnavigable as the inevitable draws nearer.
âFine, then Iâll sleep on the couch and you take the bed.â
âNo.â
âNo?â
âNo. N. O.â
Fine.
Itâs difficult to navigate in the dark. Your knees end up a victim to the edge of the coffee table and you trip over the edge of the rug, but you find the couch. Reaching down, you find his chest, then his shoulder. And once youâre sufficiently oriented you sit on him.
âOw,â Wonwoo grunts as you flop down, elbow in his gut and his chin hitting your forehead. âWhat are you doing?â
You wedge in closer, slipping between his body and the cushions, bracing to kick him off by force if needed. âSleeping.â
âHere?â he asks. Too aware of your plan, he turns as well, grabbing the back of the couch overhead to stay put.
âYouâre too tall to sleep here.â
âAnd weâre both too big to sleep here together. Take the bed.â
âNo,â you huff.
âNo?â
âNo. N.O. I believe youâre familiar with the word,â you spit.
âYouâre being ridiculous.â
âIf you keep talking then neither of us will sleep.â
âNeither of us are gonna sleep anyway. You move too much to be comfortable like this.â
Heâs right of course. Your hips already ache but if you move then heâll find some way to pull you off. âIâm fine.â
âYouâre being ridiculous.â
You do the mature thing and bite him.Â
The muscles corded around his pec twitch under your mouth as he flinches. âWhat the hell was that for?âÂ
You do it again.
âStop.â
âOr what?â you ask, muffled in his skin as you move to leave another bite.
Wonwoo also does the mature thing and pins your wrists in one hand, maneuvering until you're sandwiched between the couch with his chest flat to your back.
âI canât breathe like this,â you muffle into the cushions.
âOh, how tragic.â You feel his words tickle the back of your neck rather than hear them.Â
Wonwoo releases your wrists pinned to your stomach. His hand finds its way under your shirt, his shirt from some stupid frat fundraiser youâd been coerced into attending, flat to your belly with soothing circles. His calf hooks over your own to tangle your bodies together. He kisses the back of your neck, a simple brush of his lips that lingers.
Itâs easier to feel everything in the dark. Your annoyance and frustration forged over the past weeks melts away and all thatâs left is the need to have Wonwoo close. Just like this. Where there are no deadlines, or responsibilities. Where you both can drown in each othersâ presence and everything else is washed away in the heavy drops pounding the windows outside.
Here, everything is uncomplicated.
The next rumble of thunder is loud enough to send you both in the air. Unfortunately, Wonwoo drags you backwards off the couch and to the floor. You land relatively unscathed but he knocks his elbow into the coffee table.
âAre you okay?â
Wonwoo groans and curses, cradling his elbow.
âAw, tell the doctor where it hurts,â you coo, prodding his side.
He snatches your hand and pins it to his chest but not before lacing his fingers through your own. The gentle rise of and fall of breathing and the thud of his heart reverberates down your arm and straight into your own chest where something frozen softens. âHas anyone told you youâre annoying when youâre tired?â
âYes. You. Lots of times.â
âGood. Wanna make sure youâre aware.â
Lighting turns everything white, a quick flash highlighting the room. There and gone and leaving you more disoriented than before. Rolling over, you hook a thigh over his lap which he welcomes, tugging you closer and absorbing the proximity like second nature. Youâre a glutton for warmth â Wonwooâs warmth specifically â even in his sweater and his sweat shorts and his shirt, you still want more of him.
âWe canât sleep like this.â
You donât want to move â laying like this, in the dark, nose dug into his chest as you twisting your fingers in his, squeezing and glowing pathetically when he squeezes back â all you want is to drown in him a little longer. Until you're forced to come up for breath.
But the sore spot between you two is still raw like a fresh bruise.
âThen sleep in the bed,â his lips drags over your knuckles as he speaks.
âNo. You sleep in the bed, youâre too tall to sleep on the couch.â
âFine.â Wonwoo jumps up from his place on the floor, grabbing your hands once again before dragging you around the coffee table towards the opposite side of the room. Itâs ridiculously childish, especially in the dark where he bounces off the desk and the rug roughens the back of your legs.
He shimmies you around a corner and a cloud of laughter puffs between your lips. âWhat are you doing?â
âIâm sleeping in the bed, and youâre sleeping in the bed with me.â
âWhat if I donât want to sleep next to you?â
âThen Iâll cry. Like that time we watched Steel Magnolias.â
âHave mercy,â you whimper.
âThen get your ass in bed.â
Deflating like a balloon, you stand. Wonwoo keeps his hands on you the entire time, guiding you down to the mattress and covering your body with his own just in case of an escape. He bunkers down in the safety of your neck, dragging your hands to his hair, mimicking the motions he craves until you take up the action and gently comb through the tangles.
A part of you wants to cry. Preemptively mourn the end of this â whatever this is. Late nights with Wonwoo, whispering in the dark about clueless underclassmen and annoying professors. Taking turns scrolling through adoptable cats at the local rescue. Cooing over them, rolling your eyes when Wonwoo finds Pixel still listed as available for adoption, a sign to him that heâs meant to have her except he lives in a frat house. Or the nights neither of you can sleep and take a trip to the local diner and tuck yourselves away in a corner booth to watch drunk people cling to consciousness over waffles and hash browns.Â
There will be no more of that. Not by the time winter break comes. One of you is getting the gold ticket and the other will be up in the air with the hundreds of other people competing for the same handful of slots. And if one of you doesn't get in?Â
âWas that so hard?â he whispers into your collar.
When you donât answer, he looks up at. In the cast of lighting coming through the window heâs the same Wonwoo. The one youâve been best friends with for years now. The one who is practically glued to your side whenever possible.Â
The one who youâll have to say goodbye to.
He meets your kiss lazily. Like he still thinks you have all the time in the world.
It makes the urge to cry that much worse.
The rain is gone by morning.Â
The room glows from the orange light of the first minutes of sunrise. Sometime in the night you rolled to your side and Wonwoo pressed tight to your back. Heâs awake, drawing shapes on your hip beneath the fabric of your shirt.
âMorning.âÂ
You hum and roll over to burrow in his chest, the crown of your head digging into his neck and away from the sun. âMorning.â
The warmth of his hands trace the curve of your back, pulling you closer; hiding his own discontent with such an early break in the tentative truce that only seems to exist in the late hours of night and earliest minutes of dawn. Days of sleep deprivation with nothing but sterile lighting in the lab leaves you both needy and vulnerable. So he hugs you tighter and sighs when you do the same.
Heâs hard against your thigh. Clearly a result of biology more than need because heâs snoring against your hairline. Flashes of dreams rush forward â him beneath you, on top of you, behind you. Itâs been weeks since you two last fucked. When you called him an idiot and he called you stubborn and next thing you were on the table with your legs spread for Wonwooâs hand in a clumsy bump and grind while arguing about which one of you fucked up the biosensor callibration through gritted teeth and needy whimpers.
Youâre wet. With his thigh pressed between your own the fact becomes more evident as the urge to curl into it nags.
Taking advantage of the exposed curve of skin beneath your mouth, you kiss and suck with lax intent until Wonwoo tips his chin up and gives a silent green light.
A heavy hand drags down his front, nails scratching bluntly through the fabric until it can slip beneath the waistband of his sweats and the curve of his cock sits pretty in your palm. Commando for convenience and comfort. More the latter because thereâs no shot in hell heâs been getting laid lately.
His breath is sticky in his throat, vibrating beneath your teeth from thin pants as you work him through a loose fist. âCan I?â
âYeah,â he huffs. âYes.â
Slouching down, your head rests on his stomach, sweatpants bunched around his thighs. The first lick sends his hips up in search of more and you eagerly supply the soft suction of your mouth; lips catching around the flared head. A hand on the back of your skull keeps your hair from interfering as he plumps against your tongue.Â
Eagerness fails to penetrate this moment slowed down by the greater need to drag this out. To savor every second because who knows when youâll both stop being petty enough to just enjoy one anotherâs presence again.
âMight cumâfuckâ donât stop,â he grunts.
With the sun filling the room even more youâre running out of time, the warmth growing to leave sweat at the small of your back. He pushes harder into the curve of your throat and you let him, gagging wet with a lewd mix of spit and pre-cum that has you both moaning at the choked sound. Jaw slack, Wonwoo fucks your mouth with slow ruts; stomach tightening and the hand in your hair fisting tight enough you moan.
âShit, babeâc-cumming,â he whines with a pathetic groan youâd make fun of him for later but all you can think about is the thick taste of cum and if thereâs enough time for some attention between your own legs before life becomes unignorable. Not enough time for a real fuck but Wonwoo has a few tricks up his sleeve that promise satisfaction.
You bounce back down next to him and Wonwoo pounces, rolling on top of you, thing between your spread legs. He doesnât shy away from your tongue against his teeth, dips a thumb beneath your chin and slips his tongue right along with it, sucks your lips until the swell, backing off only to bunch your shirt up. Lazy drags of his mouth on yours â not the âI need youâ kisses after a late night but the âI miss youâ ones after weeks of passive aggressive silence.
He licks down your front, goosebumps blooming from the draft as he sucks a nipple until you arch and twist a hand in his hair. You give a lax stretch and sigh while his hand slips beneath the edge of your panties.
Taking the morning for what it is, you fall into the motions until the blare of the alarm clock signals the beginning of the end.
You push away and swipe blindly at the night stand to make it stop but Wonwoo has other plans.Â
He pins your hips down, tongue flat to the crotch of your underwear with a pant. âIgnore it.â
âWhat?â You look at him and find tired eyes watching back from over the edge of your wrinkled shirt. His hair is a mess, stuck to the side of his head from sleep and your eager hands and all you want to do is comb the tangles out while he pulls your strings like a puppet master.
But you canât.
âWeâve got class,â you gasp through a hot kiss on your clit.
A groggy groan of, âskip,â vibrates on your skin.
Fingers curling in the sheets, you grasp for disagreement only to find a moan as he pulls your hips closer and works a finger where you need it most.
âWe canât.â
âWe can,â Wonwoo grunts, focusing on peppering greedy kisses to the sensitive insides of your thighs. âWeâve been early every time this semester.â
The hand not curling in your guts runs down the back of your calf, bending until it hooks over his shoulder.
âFuck, Wonu,â you whine over the crude sounds of his mouth. You want to. God, do you want to. But you open your eyes again and they land on the stack of exams on your desk. Ungraded. Because Wonwoo said you could do them this morning. And now he wants you to skip class despite how important it is.Â
You close your legs only for Wonwoo to take it as a challenge, pinning your hips in place and celebrating his perceived victory with a throaty moan as he rocks against the bed.
âStop.â
He pulls back, mouth wet and brows furrowed. âHuh?â
The alarm on your phone pings again. Swiftly silenced this time as you roll out from beneath him and land beside the mattress on unsteady feet. âWe canât skip. We have to give exams back.â
âItâs not that big of a deal,â he argues, flopping down into the warmth you left vacant.
The room is too bright, a clear sign your morning routine is behind. âYou think now is the time to start slacking off?â
âItâs not slacking off.â Wonwoo snags his glasses. He looks more annoyed with them. âItâs a break. You clearly need one.â
âWhat the hell is that supposed to mean?â
âJust forget it. Iâm not arguing with you about stupid shit.â
âAnd what's stupid shit? The job we signed up for? With the professor who controls our futures?â
Wonwoo fixes his pants and rolls out of bed. On the opposite side. As far away from you as possible. âWhatever.â
âFine.â
âFine!â
âGood!â
âGood!â
You slam the bathroom door shut with finality. When you come back out, any trace of Wonwoo is long gone.
There arenât many people in class. A benefit of Halloweekend is the partying starts Wednesday and doesnât stop until the following week. Even with last night's rain plenty of students are battling hangovers which leaves a third of the usual lecture attendance to witness you and Wonwoo go head to head while Dr. Wagner sits at home with a mysterious illness she announced in an email three minutes after nine AM.
The few that are there snag their papers, lips curled in disgust at the plethora of red ink spilled on white pages. Their own faults for not paying attention during lecture but maybe the scarlet gashes were a little dramatic. Wonwooâs jaw is tight, pointedly ignoring you except to hand exams over that someone is waiting for with dread in their eyes.Â
You couldâve skipped. It wouldnât even count as skipping because class is canceled and thereâs no award for hauling ass at the crack of dawn when your advisor isnât even here to see it. You could be tucked away in your apartment with him under your skin; firmly in the place between dreams and waking where you liked him best, nothing but warm skin and rough hands with his lips on your hairline and your head burrowed in his chest.Â
There are too many witnesses to just drop the act and wrap your arms around him from behind until he gives in. Apologize for the stupid shit he rightfully called you out on. But as your courage grows with each studentâs exit, Wonwoo makes to leave before you can make use of it.Â
Barely an hour of fighting and it already feels like an eternity.
âHey,â you call.
He freezes by one of the desks near the back of the room, like heâs shocked youâre even there in the first place. But he doesnât turn around; just tilts his head so you know heâs listening even if he doesnât want to.
âSorry about this morning. I-I think the stress is getting to me.â
And the fact that I canât be mad at anyone besides the universe for this incredibly shitty situation. And I miss you. Even when youâre right next to me.
âOkay.â
âThatâs it?â you fidget with the strap of your bag; a million pounds heavier even without the weight of ungraded tests that Wonwoo snatched before you could divide the remaining work.
He turns around, eying you with an exasperated look. âWhat else should I say? You called me a slack off and implied I donât do my job.â
âI didnât,â you argue but itâs salt in the wound becauseâ
âYou did.â
âButââ
âItâs fine. Iâll finish grading the exams over the weekend.â
And then you're alone.
Youâre alone in the study room you both usually occupy to work on the Nanochemistry project due at the end of term. The shared document has updates, the blink of his cursor mocking your from wherever he hunkered down. Away from you. The temptation to type âIâm sorryâ over and over again disappears once he logs out barely a minute after you logged on.
Youâre alone at the circulation desk of the library through your shift, head whipping around to every squeak and cough only to find someone who isnât Wonwoo. Thereâs an email from him, to Dr. Wagner with you CCâed, about class averages and exam questions that should be thrown out.
You walk home alone. Other students in various states of dress and intoxication crowd the sidewalks, a few you recognize but they feel a million miles away.
Alone in your apartment, the two mugs from last night clean in the sink.
The good part of being alone is when you start crying, no one is there to see.
Itâs near midnight and the chill of the breeze whipping down the street bites at your exposed skin. Already the should-be-condemned frat house pulses with life, the promise of a long night ahead thrumming through the symphony of drunk screams and music.
Itâs not unusual for you to attend frat parties. Wonwooâs favor guarantees free booze and a perch at the top of the staircase where underclassmen are barred from entering. But youâll settle for watching drunk underclassman stumbling over the front lawn from one of the couches on the front porch (which are so broken in, no one sinks into the cushions â they just fall straight down until the worn springs catch them) because the inside of the house is too hot, and too crowded, and far too loud.Â
A hail Mary apology is the only thing on your mind. Yesterday had been the nastiest spat in recent history between you two; notwithstanding sophomore year when Jeonghan asked you for tutoring and Wonwoo insisted on helping. âHelpingâ meant cutting off every question Jeonghan dared ask with a series of snorts and huffs until you left and refused to talk to him for a week.
Heâd apologized in the most Wonwoo fashion â completing your Thermodynamics assignments for the rest of the semester and before going down on you until you threatened to kick him in the head through sensitive sobs.
Wonwoo is here â somewhere. Shuffling up the past, past the line of eager party goers looking for a way in, you scan the front porch, heâs not in his usual waiting spot to whisk you upstairs where the older members hang out with better drinks and better music. Not that he would be. He doesnât even know you considered coming to this.
Instead, poor Chan, dressed in yellow and black stripes, mans the door with pilot Jihoon by his side.
âJihoon,â you greet, before looking at the younger man. âSpeed bump.â
Chan mumbles something under his breath but lays on the ground regardless. When Wonwoo went through the same hazing you only got a few chances to enjoy the ridiculousness before he dragged you upstairs and shut you up himself.
âCan you not torment the kids?â Jihoon grunts.
âI could. But, whereâs the fun in that?âÂ
âYour boyfriend is inside. If you see Jun, tell him itâs his turn to watch the door.â
âGot it.â
Stepping over the underclassman still laying on the ground, you head inside and straight for the packed kitchen to get a drink. Thereâs barely any space between the hoard of bodies, forcing you to shuffle forward everytime there's a gap in the crowd; but itâs more like swimming against a rip tide.Â
Itâs difficult to see with nothing but a few strobe lights and some strings of Christmas lights to clear the dark. One glance up towards the upper landing of the staircase is all it takes to find him right next to Mingyu. Matching costume, two bean poles standing out from the crowd of shorter men. Mingyu makes a brief nod in your direction but before you can see Wonwoo turn youâre off into the kitchen.
Itâs an even tighter fit in here. A pledge pours drinks from a cooler, for a brief second youâre tempted to indulge. The last time you did, freshman year, you ended up crying in Wonwooâs room mid-hookup. You scan the slim pickings and settle on an unopened beer. The shots you took while getting ready are already catching up.
Forced between anxious isolation and drinking, a few of your friends come up and briefly make conversation. You feign interest, eying over their heads for a familiar mop of dark hair without success.
A few guys stop to compliment your costume. They give themselves away in glazed heavily lidded stares, single minded focus on your legs. They ask what your major is, boast their status as pledges to your disinterested grimace, and move on when you finally put them out of their misery and fib about your âboyfriendâ being âpresident or somethingâ but âI donât pay attention to those things,â and they all disappear significantly paler than when they first appeared.
You bite the bullet of your pride and turn to leave, only to find Wonwoo barely an inch away.
His eyes burn over your figure, the short toga covering just enough for you to avoid public indecency. Good. Itâs the entire reason you wore this stupid costume in the first place. Heâs a horny loser for nerdy shit and this is the best thing you couldâve worn other than one of those video game character costumes forcing your boobs in your throat and leaving you at serious risk for public indecency.
Itâs not the first time youâve wrapped yourself in barely enough fabric to constitute an outfit for the sake of his forgiveness and it probably wonât be the last.
Wonwoo pins you to the counter with his hips, hands bracketing your figure on either side. The green hat with an âLâ is lopsided on his head but at least he didnât wear the fake mustache. âSo, what is your costume?â he hums into the space just below your ear with a kiss.
âGuess.â You tilt your chin, cocky.
âAnd if I get it right?â he asks, lips at your ear.
Heart pound, you ditch the beer and reach for his hips with purpose. âWhatever you want.â
âDangerous words.â
âThink of it as my apology for being a huge bitch yesterday.âÂ
He sighs into your neck, arms tight around your waist in a loose semblance of a hug. Itâs a farce. Your ass meets the counter with minor effort and Wonwoo claims the space between your legs before you can pretend to object.
He still hasnât kissed you.
You want more than kisses. You want to feel him, all of him. Want to drag him to the living room serving as a makeshift dance floor and sink into the heat of his body pressed flat against your own for everyone to see. You want to pull him into that closet off the main hall, familiar from that hot night of freshman year when a drunk make out turned into a timid fingering and eventually Wonwoo handing over his first time on a silver platter. Or even run back to your apartment, pluck through the leftover Halloween candy you bought on discount and watch whatever horror movie has become his recent obsession. You just want him.
âMingyu thought you were Socrates.â
Pressed this close on the sticky counter, his body is the only thing protecting what little of your dignity is left. Even then, there's enough of the slippery warmth of alcohol to tempt you into rutting against him right here for those stupid pledges to see. âMingyu is an idiot.â
âClearly,â he chuckles. âThe rubber chicken gave it away.â
You shake it at eye level. âBehold, man.â
âLame,â his kissing gets bold down the shaft of your neck, teeth scraping your collarbone.
âOh please, I feel your boner.â
He doesnât resist you when you nuzzle along the bare parts of his neck, a tease of soft kissing usually reserved for quiet moments tucked away in your apartment. Even in the chaos of the party, body heat turning the air uncomfortably warm, you crave more of his closeness.Â
His hands feel nice on your legs. None of the timid gentleness of years prior when heâd touch you like itâd burn if he wanted it too much; trailing higher and higher but never under the short hem of the bedsheet turned dress. His fingers flex into the muscle at the outside of your thigh, hook behind your knees and drag you to the edge of the counter.Â
You're sweating through your own skin when he kisses you.Â
The need in your gut blooms at full force. Your mouth loosens, welcoming his tongue and teeth and whatever else heâs generous enough to give while you tug at the loose fabric around his hips to force more close proximity; the zipper of his pants is hot against your core and if you fucked him right here it wouldnât look that different than the PG-13 make out happening right now.Â
âWanna show me your room?â You blink like some moony eyed freshman, glassy, pupils blown from vivid images of all the possibilities in the solitude upstairs. Wonwoo is fine with the game of whatever your apology entails even if it means you throw cheesy lines like that.
He ushers you off the counter, flat to your back as he pushes through the crowd with you ahead. Even in a drunken haze people part out of his way because of the mastery of resting bitch face only he seems to have despite the complaint putty that lies behind it. A private smile splits your lips. He canât be that mad. Not with how he pulls you closer, in the protective way he so often does in the buzz of a single minded crowd with more alcohol in their veins than blood.Â
Mingyu is standing on the landing. Girls in scraps of fabric eye him up and down, even in his stupid costume with the mustache but he ignores them in favor of pouting straight into a red cup.
âWhy is your boyfriend moping?âÂ
âFuck if I know.â Wonwoo focuses on sucking another bruise on your neck like no one's watching.Â
Youâre loose enough not to care about Mingyuâs annoyance as Wonwoo ushers you by. âCheer up buttercup, Iâm sure thereâs a Peach here into charity fucks!âÂ
Itâs meant to be encouraging, but Mingyu looks like heâs torn between strangling you and throwing himself over the banister.
Maybe you did lie about being Wonwooâs girlfriend, but he is president and his room is the biggest and furthest away from chaos. Up on the top floor where the music isnât as loud and the only people on this floor are other members and their guests for the night.
Wonwoo pushes you inside, kicking the door shut loud enough you wince before crowding you against the wood. You throw his hat away somewhere into the darkness, hand twisted in his hair as he kisses you. Sloppy and gross until he rocks into the softness of your stomach, gasoline on the flame.
âTurn around.â
He barely gives you enough space to do so, pressing you flat once again, cheek squished to the door and a rough pull at your waist.Â
âIf youâre thinking about touching my asshole, donât. I have shit to do tomorrow,â you warn.Â
On the other side of the door you hear footsteps but they pass by without stopping.
âNoted, but not what Iâm going for,â he jokes.Â
Your skirt flips up and a draft against the damp crotch of your panties sends a tremor straight through your core. âShare with the class.â
âItâs a surprise.â
âIâm shaking in my toga.â
âAnd you call me a loser.â
âI can call you some other things,â you grit, pushing back into the heat of his covered cock. âThey arenât as nice though.â
âYeah, yeah. Take your panties off.âÂ
Heâs a little bit of a freak. Sometimes he enjoys fucking you in nothing but your underwear and others he wants you in everything but. Maybe because of how this entire thing started; when you wouldnât even take your bra off and he survived on the barest flash of nipple.
The flimsy soiled fabric barely passes your knees before heâs on you again, easily tempted by the arch of your spine. You hum content as he presses a finger into your cunt, then two. His other hand forces the neckline of your dress down and lo-and-behold your lack of bra delights like you knew it would.
Whatever bright idea that fluttered in Wonwooâs brain is forgotten as he spins you back around for an eyeful of naked skin; a mouthful of your chest and your leg hooked around his hip for a pathetic dry hump into the heel of his hand.
âOh, fuck,â you moan with extra emphasis and a caved stomach because thereâs teeth and he makes it hurt. âKiss me.â
Another rut into your thigh and his teeth are back at your bottom lip. Itâs not exactly what you anticipated when you showed up tonight but there are far worse places than having a doorknob in your back while Wonwoo leaves a hickey below your ear; a perfectly good bed ten feet away but neither of you can be bothered to move much more than forcing Wonwooâs pants down enough his cock leaks in your grip, head nestled at your entrance.
You surprise him by sinking to your knees. Head tipped back against the door, you tilt your mouth open to welcome him on your tongue. Wonwoo stares down at you; tits out, hand between your legs as you suck his cock in quick motions until he takes over and fucks into the curve of your throat.Â
âHoly s-shit,â he hisses and you flatten your tongue to help him along. It feels good; seeing him reduced to so little just from the wet suck of your mouth on him.Â
A choked gag forces Wonwoo back into his body, hips curving away so you can swallow air before leaving a sloppy kiss on the tip. Seizing him in a tight grip, you use the spit to jerk him off until he cringes with another pathetic moan.Â
Someone giggles in the hallway, close enough you both hear. Theyâre far enough away you can still whisper to Wonwoo. âRemember that time we fucked in here last year?âÂ
âWhen you almost got us killed?â
Last year, at the same party, when you showed up in a skin tight Shego costume, Wonwoo pulled you to the only available room: Seungcheolâs. Itâd been hot. Fucking when you arenât supposed to, having Seungcheol pound at the door while Wonwoo came down your throat (no condoms and no hope to clean up).
âDo it again.â
His hand creeps into a loose collar around the base of your throat. You keep rubbing between your legs, working up a slick slide until your nails dig into the skin of his thighs.
âReally?â Thereâs no need for muffling the noise when it's his room and the only people at risk of hearing anything have done far worse. He pulls you to your feet, forces your cheek against the door and slides right behind you. Like he was made for you.
âChoke me,â you gasp before digging into the sick part of your brain that likes seeing him strung out, extra breathy just to see his eyes go wide. âSir.â
Your skin sticks to the door, shamefully squeezed as he drags his cock through the mess of your pussy. âYou canât just say that.â
âWhy not?â
âBecauseââ
âBecause what?â you goad. âGonna punish me?â
âYouâd like that wouldnât you? Show up wearing this,â he grits, tugging at the white fabric bunched around your waist, using the hand on your throat to squeeze your cheeks tight with authority you drool for. âAsking to be choked and now you probably want me to spank you and call you a good girl.â
You grunt through the raw thrust at your gut, sending your head back from sheer enthusiasm. âNânot my fault you fuck me so good.âÂ
Wonwoo almost canât control himself, hearing nothing but praise fall from your mouth as he fucks you limp against the door. âGod.â
Someone screams, âLeave room for Jesus!â from the other side of the door and you almost rip it open to kill them if Wonwoo wasnât dragging you to the bed.Â
He folds you onto your front, both standing at the foot of the bed. A deep roll of his hips and youâre filled completely.Â
âO-oh, fuck me,â you moan, uncaring if the idiot outside the door is still listening. Wonwoo has a hell of a hand and puts it to use against the curve of your ass. The coil in your gut pulls taunt as he delivers one after another.
He fucks deeper, a the hand not burn against your bottom between your shoulders. âYou look so goodâ ah âtaking my cock like this.â His voice waivers with the same stunted rhythm of his hips.Â
âW-want,â you choke on spit, drooling into the comforter. âWanna taste you.â
The animalist need to suck both your flavors off his cock nearly sends you into a fit but Wonwooâs there, hooking his hand back around the front of your neck with a subtle squeeze. You want the stupid dress off, you want Wonwooâs clothes off, you want to fuck him where thereâs no one around to catcall in the hallway like twelve year old boys. Want. Want. Want.
What you get is enough pressure from his fingers that your mind blanks. Wonwoo gets a tight enough squeeze on his cock that heâs forced to a grinding halt.Â
Then his rhythm goes deeper, harder. Course curls against the resistance of your ass until you almost collapse against the edge of the bed. His cock hits that spot like it was made for your body. âTouch yourself.â
You comply without further command. Youâre wet, soaked, arousal smeared down your thighs from Wonwooâs treatment. Your fingers bump against his length as you match the pace of his strokes. âFuck, Wonwoo â hmmm.âÂ
âTell me how it feels,â he gasps like itâs his first breath in hours.
âWet, so wet,â you croon, arching harder, joints locking. âGonna cum. Oh my god.â
He reaches low, grabbing your hand from between your thighs and pulling it to his mouth for a taste. His tongue slides between your digits, liquid slick with a soft suction your crave on your clit.Â
âBeg for it.â Wonwoo bites your shoulder hard enough you cry.Â
Stuffing your hand back between your legs, you play with your clit clumsily. Until pink crowds the edge of your vision and it hurts. âPlease, please! I needâWant it. Wanna come for you. Please, sir.â
Wonwoo strains to hear your pleas over the clap of bodies. Heâs worked you near the middle of the bed, practically laying on top of you as he fucks in quick succession.Â
âHarder, fuck me,â you demand. âYes, yes, yâyes!â
If you were on top youâd fall straight off, jerking tightly under Wonwooâs weight, turning your face to greet his tongue between your teeth and mewling sensitivity. He doesnât show mercy, continuing to fuck you through the worst of it.
âHoly shit,â you whimper, head throbbing. Wonwoo forces you back on your knees and you fight through sore muscles and sensitivity to preen under the weight behind his hips.Â
âCan I come in you?â he asks in a shivery breath.
You nod with closed eyes, tugging the hand around your throat to your lips and sucking his fingers like itâs a cock. He finishes with a choked breath, flooding your insides with sticky warmth youâve never gotten used to in all the months youâve fucked without condoms.Â
His breath fans against the nape of your neck, another swivel of his hips from the sensitivity. Your walls squeeze as Wonwoo pulls away.Â
You roll onto your back with a bounce, Wonwoo jostling you when he joins. Shoulder to shoulder, you stare up at the ceiling while catching your breath. âDo you think youâll pop a boner when your students call you a sir next year?â
Wonwoo heaves a long breath, amusement in his voice. âI come inside you and that's the first thing you think of?â
Immediately you regret the joke. Since Dr. Wagnerâs announcement weeks ago neither of you had broached on the topic of what happens after graduation. Mostly from fear. But also because itâs a long discussion youâre not exactly sure what you want out of.
âAnswer the question.â
âI hope not.â
The bed shifts beneath your knees as you crowd over Wonwoo, laying with his arms behind him to keep from sinking flat. The tired lines of his face look deeper in the lamp light. Heâs nothing more than a big softie that wants to cuddle half naked in his bed while you play with his hair until sleep finds its place.
âItâs our last Halloween party.â
âWow, just like old times,â you snort. âShould I start crying? Then itâll be just like freshman year all over.â
Wonwoo laughs, his hand snatching yours and lacing your fingers together. âYou wore a bra and bunny ears freshman year so if youâre gonna whip that out too â by all means.â
âGod, we were so lame,â you announce matter of factly. Crying in lingerie and animal ears in one of the supply closets downstairs all becauseâ
âDonât rope me into that, miss âcrying-because-she-didnât-know-how-to-suck-dickâ.â Wonwoo rolls on top of you, hoping to silence whatever argument bubbling in response with a teasing press of his lips. You're still sticky with sweat and spit and cum, nipples and pussy out and the thought of his dick, limp against your thigh, makes you sensitive all over.
âThatâs former miss âcrying-because-she-didnât-know-how-to-suck-dickâ,â you trail off into his mouth. âAnd youâre one to talk. Remember the time you cried about how happy you were that we were friends.â
He bites your lip in retaliation. âI didnât.â
âYou did. I have the video from Mingyu.â
âI thought he was an idiot.â
âHe is but heâs good for blackmail.â
You might consider staying the night if he keeps tracing his nose along the arch of your collarbone. But a shrill giggle and some pornographic moans ring through the walls of the neighboring room. Not the side Seungkwan occupies. Hoshiâs. And itâs only the start.
âWe canât sleep here.â
Wonwoo collapses, tugging you with him. âI canât ditch again, Iâm on pledge duty.â
âYouâre hiding in your room with me.â
âOkay, technically Iâm on pledge duty.â
He wouldnât stay here if he wasnât required. Wonwoo hates party nights, especially Halloween. Too many variables requiring all hands on deck; too many needy people demanding his presence for some issue that couldâve been handled if they used their brain to think farther than the tip of their nose. Rarely, if ever, does he sleep in his own bed when you have a perfectly good one tucked away in a private apartment without thirty other men tripping over each other.Â
âWell, Iâm not sleeping with that.â On cue, another whimper, clearly a manâs, breaks through the tentative silence. Are they fuck against the shared wall?
Wonwoo sighs, scrubbing his face before moving for his phone. âIâll send one of the kids to walk you.â
âWow, a pledge escort. How thoughtful,â you sneer.
He huffs again, unwilling to start a fight thatâll leave neither of you satisfied. âText me when you get home.â
You donât.
There is an unspoken habit between you and Wonwoo that Sunday mornings are spent at the only reasonably priced coffee shop just near your apartment. A charming hole in the wall, with hanging shelves displaying layers of tchotchkes, paintings lining whatever free space between them, and wobbly tables with equally unbalanced chairs. Itâs always packed because the coffee is decent and they have outlets. After last night, you hope heâs too exhausted to even think about showing up.
Mugs click against dark lacquered tables, the dull murmur of conversation churns over the music swelling softly through the speakers. The smell of pastries and espresso wake you enough to slide into a vacant table in the corner and set to work.Â
Or you wouldâve if someone didnât sit down first.
âOh.â
Wonwoo already has a mug and a little brown bag as he looks up at where you stand dumbly.
âI can just goâŚsit somewhere elseâŚâ You turn to leave, except there are no other tables. Couples and groups claim every single seat except the one across from Wonwoo.
âWhy would you do that?â
âI donât know, probably because Iâm mad at you.â
He unpacks his laptop, shaking his head. âYouâre not mad at me.â
âYes, I am,â you emphasize.Â
âYouâre a bad liar.â
Neither of you are good at lying. Even worse at fighting. Incapable of committing to real anger when it takes all your energy to stand up straight and not fall asleep in a pile of ungraded papers and half finished assignments. Besides, you're only pouting because he passed up a night at your place to clean up pledge vomit.Â
You canât tame the annoyed grin cracking your face. âFine, Iâm not that mad at you. Buy my forgiveness in the form of coffee.â
âToo much caffeine will kill you.â
âI can only hope,â you sigh, arms cradling your head against the hard wood of the table while he joins the queue at the register.
Wonwoo orders your drink and a cheesy pastry the size of your head, the smell of greasy carbs first thing in the morning softening the ice in your veins. He knows your weaknesses too well.Â
âIs this penance?âÂ
âSomething like that.â He tears the crispiest corner off and pops it into his mouth.
âDid you look at the study guide for Calc yet?â
Two hours later you approach the counter for a second round of coffee and snag one of the jammy tarts Wonwoo likes but rarely buys for himself. Whatever chaffs between you two melts under the constant stream of note checking; Wonwooâs hand on your knee under the table helps too.Â
âIf I look at this anymore, Iâll run into traffic.â
âWeâve got the Nano project that needs some work,â you suggest.Â
He stretches wide, a sliver of skin visible between the hem of his sweater and the band of sweat pants. âIâve got practice in an hour. We can do it tonight when Iâm done.â
You try not to stare and instead return to focusing on the screen of your laptop burning your retinas.âIâm tutoring Seungkwan.â
âAfter?â
âHeâs gonna be a bitch and the last thing I wanna do is look at more school stuff.â
âThen no school stuff,â he decrees with finality. âIâll bring mushroom pad thai from that place on Market.â
âAre you trying to bribe your way in?â
âIs it working?â
You hum a dismissal but watch him through your lashes. He looks good â washed in late afternoon glow, hair a mess with glasses and a sweater that hangs off his shoulders. It all screams âdrag me to bed and nap the rest of the dayâ which is trouble for you because you still want to be mad at him if only to see how fair heâs willing to go for your forgiveness.
âWe can watch Yellowjackets,â he barters, packing his bag.
Another group eyes your table with hope to claim it the second itâs available. Sadly, your ass is firmly planted for the rest of the afternoon. With or without Wonwoo.
âYouâre really trying to butter me up, arenât you?â
âI cannot sleep in that house,â he deadpans. âPlease take mercy.â
âOh, so youâre just using me for a place to sleep. Even after I wore that stupid Halloween costume?â
He pauses, eyes glazing like itâs a distant memory and not less than twenty four hours ago. âYou looked hot.â
âYou made that pretty clear.â
âAnyway, Iâll come over after practice. You can bitch about Seungkwan until you pass out.â
âFine, but if there is no pad thai then donât come.â
âWhatever my woman demands,â he snorts, dropping a kiss to your lips before turning towards the door.
Two hours and another coffee later, Seungkwan occupies Wonwooâs abandoned chair. Thereâs no reason for him to be taking an intro chem class as a Creative Writing major other than the fact heâs a bit of a masochist. Heâs not half bad at it and doesnât really need any tutoring but you get paid for showing up even if itâs complete silence as you pick your nails until he needs something.
Youâre marking through his latest attempt when he finally speaks up, âYou're dating Wonwoo, right?â
Red pen scratches through the edge of the paper. âWhat?â
âYou and Wonwoo.â
What is the absolute configuration of the two carbon atoms in this compound? More red ink.
âWhat about me and Wonwoo?â
Seungkwan rolls his eyes with exasperation, like youâre on the outs of some obvious joke. âDating.â
If an alkene has 24 hydrogen atoms, how many carbon atoms does it contain? Another X.
âNo.â
âOh, I thoughtââ
âWeâre just friends.â
When 10 g of 90% pure lime stone is heated completely, the volume (in litres) of is liberated at STP is⌠Wrong, again. Which makes no sense because Seungkwan is good at this level. Heâs fucking with you on purpose.
âHuh,â he comments, grabbing the worksheet back from your claws.
ââHuhâ what?â
âI heard a rumor he had a girlfriend last night, thatâs all.â
It's not the first time someone assumed there's more between you and Wonwoo then there actually is, your fib last night clearly fanned the flames of even more speculation. But neither of you date; not enough time, willpower, or patience to entertain someone around packed schedules. If you and Wonwoo didnât have the same life within the chemistry department then youâd never see each other. Itâs convenient as it can possibly be.Â
Maybe at one point there was. Summer of sophomore year when he studied abroad in Spain and the usual substance of correspondence morphed from memes and jokes to something softer; I miss youâs and youâd like it hereâs. Late night phone calls that lasted hours, refusing to hang up first until one of you fell asleep and the other finally canceled the call.Â
But the opportunity to tip over the edge came and went without coalescing into whatever was on the other side.Â
Seungkwan can pretend itâs an innocent suggestion but he stares you down until you crack with your own curiosity. âWho told you that?â
âSome pledges said they accidentally hit on his girlfriend. I don't even think he knows another girl beside you. Plus you were at the party last night.â
Stupid fuckers, you mutter under your breath. âWeâre not dating.â
âBut you guys are always together.â
âWe work together. You and Vernon are always together, are you two fucking?â
âMy room is next to his and it doesnât sound like work to me.â
âHow does me failing you sound?â you spit.Â
Seungkwan doesn't so much as flinch at the threat but returns to the practice sheet with a smile nonetheless.Â
Typically, fall break is spent hidden away in a pile of blankets with you and Wonwoo alternating movie choices throughout the weekend. Dead Poets Society (him), When Harry Met Sally (you), Over the Garden Wall (him), Fantastic Mr Fox (you), and so on and so on.
This year, you have a strong feeling Dr. Wagnerâs favorite pastime is seeing her TAs squirm. Itâs the only explanation for the unique brand of humiliation she subjects you and Wonwoo to. Tonight, Friday and technically your first night off for the long weekend, she decides to engage in a new sort of torture. A fancy dinner that neither of you could ever hope to afford, and even as her treat, you still eye the menu prices nervously.Â
But Dr. Collins sits across the table, in the flesh, so you pull out the skills you learned in the ridiculous theater class you took freshman year to âdiversifyâ your transcript and smile through the anxiety.Â
Wonwoo does a little better; in a button up youâve only seen him wear a handful of times when his usual wardrobe is sweatshirts and free shirts from campus events, he looks more comfortable than you feel.
âJill, tells me you both work on Epitranscriptomic mapping in her lab?â Dr. Collins asks after another sip of his drink. Two whiskeys at dinner.Â
Itâs not an official interview. Not anything close to it, according to your advisor. Nothing is set in stone, even if Dr. Collins laughs at Wonwooâs awkward jokes and nods enthusiastically to your stories about working in the library (he also worked in the library in undergrad, but used it to nap more than actually work). But it feels like a step in the right direction.Â
âYes, sir.â Wonwoo and you nod in tandem.
Dr. Wagnerâs research focuses on how different RNA modifications vary across various cell types and states. Itâs high level stuff that no one but Wonwoo understands when you rant about the broken Cellraft machine. And his complaints about NovaSecâs constant crashes that leave him without work fall on deaf ears except when theyâre directed at you.Â
Half the reason you two started speaking during orientation is because the overly enthusiastic intern asked what people were looking forward to the most during school. You and Wonwoo were the only ones who seemed to think she meant school-related and not where to buy a fake ID. Apparently, the best person to get a fake ID from was a junior in Dr. Wagnerâs lab that year. Go figure.
âIâve seen you two listed down the line as co-authors,â he nods.Â
The waiter brings dessert, spiced toffee cakes and ice cream. Youâre starving but the knot in your stomach from when you sat down is even tighter and all you can do is pick at the plate.
âWell, Y/N does a lot of the troubleshooting for the RNA degradation issues,â Wonwoo shares.Â
Your face heats at the unexpected but not undeserved compliment. Dr. Wagnerâs work isnât cheap and the thought of wasting valuable money, money that could line the pocket of an extra set of hands, forced you to run a tight ship. The other researchers in her lab could say what they wanted behind your back but Dr. Wagner nods with fondness and you try not to preen.
âWeâd be a mess if it wasnât for her,â Dr. Wagner agrees. âThe lab techs should write her a card.â
Not wanting to leave him out, you shoot a look to your left where Wonwoo pulls at the napkin in his lap. âWonwoo is the one that made sure the parameters made sense for the last publication.â
âAlso true.â Dr. Wagner smiles. âI told you, Harry, theyâre my best students. Excel a mile past my TAs last year. They work together exceptionally well. If I could keep them both for next year, I would.â She says it with finality. There might very well be an opportunity to stay here and continue in her lab, even if your ambition has outgrown the place youâve called home for four years.
The table is cleared, your plate full of mashed cake and melted ice cream with not a single bite missing. Youâre exhausted. Mentally, emotionally; physically from the three all nighters youâve pulled this week. Thereâd be an earful from Wonwoo about the dangers of sleep deprivation (hypocrite) but he looks like heâs seen a ghost tonight and wonât sleep himself.
Dr. Collins glances at his watch with a muffled yawn, âMy, my! Look at the time! My apologies I didn't mean to keep us all out so late. I know you two probably have far more interesting things to be doing than spending the evening with a couple old timers like us.â He winks at Dr. Wagner, who rolls her eyes and hands the check back to the waiter who canât be more than nineteen. âIt looks like Iâll have some tough decisions to make in the upcoming weeks. Best of luck to the both of you.â
Hands shakes all around, and an awkward shuffle at the door and Dr. Collins and Dr. Wagner disappear into the night, leaving you and Wonwoo alone on the long walk back to campus.
You donât beeline to your apartment for a debrief. Or even to ignore the obvious awkwardness cracking between. A bench to the side of the campus green is where you find yourselves, across from the fountain that upholds the tradition of drunken seniors taking a dip during finals when theyâve given up.Â
You want to drown in it.
âWonwoo,â you whisper. âWhat happens if one of us doesn't get in?â
âIâI donât know.â He peers down at you with what you think is grief and the white noise that follows his quiet admission chokes painfully. Thereâs no plan B for something like this
If you got in, then Wonwoo did too. An unfounded assumption that wherever you went heâd be there too, based on almost four years of something between you. Too much to be friendship but too scared to call it something else. Something more. All the stereotypical college firsts had been with him or witnessed by him, you assumed grad school would be the same.
But it canât be.
âThen we should end this.â
The words are out like shaken champagne, a dramatic explosion you canât take back; a mess in the slimmest inches of space between your bodies on the bench in the freezing air.
âWhat?â he says.
You canât swallow back down the idea. Wonwoo wonât let you. Maybe you donât want to. You stare at the fountain across the green with a twitch in your jaw.Â
âOne of us is gonna move to Boston and the other is gonna have to figure it out and Iâd rather not hate you or you hate me when it happens.â
You wonât take it back but you wonât look at him either.Â
âYou think Iâd hate you?âÂ
Heâs staring at you. You can feel the burn of his gaze on your cheek where embarrassment heats as well.
âI would.â You ignore the break in your voice at the complete lie. âIâd hate it if you got in and I didnât. Even though you deserve it and I couldnât be mad about it. Iâd hate it. All Iâve wanted since freshman year is to go there, and I wonât ruin it for you just because I canât have it.â
For a painstaking moment, he doesnât say anything. His shoulders are still rigid and he props his weight into his knees, head bowed so you canât even see his face in the stark street light. He doesnât do anything until you do, until you slump with utter defeat.
âFine.â
âFine?â Your voice pinches in your throat.
âWhat else is there? Youâve already decided for the both of us. That stupid fucking program matters more to you thanââ
You heat close to explosion.âItâs not stuââ
Wonwoo rushes off the bench. âIt is! It is because weâve been dating for the past three years but you wonât even fucking admit it! Youâll tell some stupid pledge Iâm your boyfriend but everytime I think weâve worked it out â that youâre finally ready to talk about it â you pretend nothing is happening.â
âThat wasnâtââ you shake your head.
âItâs fine. Iâll get over it.âÂ
You move quicker than he does and find his hand, but he doesnât want to stay and you canât stop him from leaving. âWonwoo.âÂ
âStop.â His voice is stoic, whatever emotions previously controlling him locked up tight behind faux dismissal. âJustâŚstop.âÂ
If youâre going to lie then the smallest favor you can do is obey his command. You hide your face in your hands, cheeks hot and eyes stinging. Because if you look at him then youâll break into a million pieces. Youâd admit to lying to his face; that you could so much as entertain the idea of hating him.
Wonwoo waits but you say nothing. No argument, no final comment.Â
When you finally look up heâs far enough down the sidewalk that the pathetic croak of his name is unheard.
Endpoint: a critical moment in a chemical process where a specific change indicates that the reaction is complete.Â
Two days later, when you finally get the balls to call Wonwoo and apologize, to tell him heâs right and that youâre an absolute idiot, heâs already blocked your number.
In a game of passive aggressive pettiness, Wonwoo takes gold.
He wonât talk to you outside of class and lab hours. Even then, he refuses to look at you; talks straight around you. Any form of correspondence you receive has Dr. Wagnerâs name attached and anything you send without it is loudly ignored.Â
Other people notice too.
In study hours, the students notice, whisper to each other when Wonwoo snubs your attempt to discuss a batch of graded homework in favor of focusing his attention on a cowering freshman who looks like he might piss himself when Wonwoo calls him by name. All the others bury their heads in their textbooks in fear heâll pick them next.
In Nano, when he shows up just in the nick of time to leave his self-assigned seat next to you empty, and instead sitting next to the door. You feel the eyes on you, hair standing on end at the back of your neck when Dr. Lim stutters through his intro with wide eyes at the scene.
Seungkwan shows up to tutoring significantly less interested in your love life. Or he pretends he isnât. He doesnât ask outright and thereâs pity in his eyes, thick enough you want to burst into the tears youâve waited to come for the past two weeks. Instead you feel hollow.Â
Even Mr. Lee, the night guard at the library, eyes your solitary exit with something like concern. Even going so far as to call campus public safety to escort you the short walk home.
Your other friends try to take you out, get your mind off the tilt in your world axis. You go. Sit at bar tables and laugh when you're supposed to, make empty conversations with strangers but you donât care. You want to go home and curl up in your own misery like a blanket and cry until your eyes swell shut and pass out from exhaustion. Eventually, they stop asking if you want to come and just leave ice cream and bottles of wine on your doormat as support.
Your grades donât suffer, and thatâs the only thing you can cling to right now.
In Dr. Wagnerâs office, an impromptu meeting under the guise of setting final exam expectations and tinkering the schedule, Wonwoo continues the harsh coldness of silence; content to pretend you donât even exist.Â
You work through it easily enough. You and Wonwoo have the same finals so there's only two schedules (Dr. Wagnerâs and your shared one) to coordinate for extra study hours. The entire ordeal takes ten minutes to complete the shared calendar, pack it full of final lab meetings and deadlines for grading.
And when itâs over, you move to rise but Dr. Wagner stops you short.
She looks sheepish which is an odd sight. Immediately, you go to the worst. You grit and swallow and sit back down in the same upholstered chair from the last time she dropped a bomb in your lap.Â
This is the bandaid rip youâve waited for all semester. Whatever is at the end of this meeting means you finally know if youâre good enough or not. If karma does justice and gives Wonwoo the spot in Dr. Collins lab next year because you committed the sin of wanting it too much, sacrificed too much.
âIt seems my attempt at friendly competition had someâŚunintended consequences.â
Where sizzling anger would once flourish and bloom, nothing but empty exhaust stutters to life. âWhat?â
âLast year, the second my TAs found out Iâd recommended them, they slacked off. Missing class, incorrect results in the lab. Now I know you two are hard workers but I was afraid senioritis might set in and Iâd have to lay down the law. I donât like being harsh with my students, not directly anyway. I want the best out of them, and I knew I could anticipate the best from you two. I was always planning to recommend both of you to Dr. Collins. I told him he would regret it if he even thought about not making space for you both next year.â
âWhat?â you repeat again.
Thereâs a weight on your knee. You donât even need to look to know itâs Wonwooâs hand. He doesnât look before flipping it over when you place yours on top, fingers knotting together; holds it tight like heâs afraid youâll vanish if he lets go. You unconsciously squeeze and he mimics without thought.
âSo what does this mean?â
âDr. Collins canât outright say it but heâs on the admissions board and decides who gets to join his lab. He was adamant that both of you join him in Boston.â
âBut we havenât evenââ
âI know, but the application is a formality at this point.â She waves a dismissive hand. âYour work speaks for itself.â
Wonwoo is still there, clenching your hand for dear life. Waiting for the other shoe to drop because there is no way â no way â itâs this easy. Months at each other's throat from the tension and for nothing. Youâre sweaty, heart thumping loud enough it might break from your chest and skitter on Dr. Wagnerâs desk. She keeps talking and you still havenât looked at Wonwoo.
âIâm so proud of you both!â she beams. âAnd Iâm sorry if IâveâŚcomplicated thingsâŚfor the two of you. It was never my intention. Now, go! Rest! Take the day off and celebrate. Send me the links to your applications and Iâll do my part so you can finally relax before finals.â
The pair of you shuffle outside like zombies. In broad daylight, the world keeps spinning and someone drops their coffee a little further down the street and curses a storm; a car honks at a biker, there's packs of students shuffling around where you stand dumbfounded. Your sweater does little to block the chill of late November wind.
Wonwoo still hasnât let go of your hand.
âDid that just happen?â he asks.
âWhat the fuck.â
âWhat the fuck.â
Your laughing, deranged and fatigued cackles that earn several looks but on the cusps of finals itâs not uncommon enough to stop anyone out of concern. âWhat the fuck!â
Youâre not sure what to do. Celebrate? Cry?Â
Itâs a little bit of both as Wonwoo swoops in, wrapping his arms around you tight enough to squeeze a surprised scream from your lungs. Heâs not done, lifting and spinning you around in a quick circle before crying, âWhat the fuck!â
You laugh, snorting ugly cackles as he almost drops you with both of you gasping for breath. Completely deranged but what just happened that the rift between you momentarily heals.
Wonwoo sets you down gently but keeps close, his hands your waist like heâs afraid to let go. Like heâs missed you just as much as youâve missed him. You finally look at him, and itâs the first breath of air after drowning for hours. The creases around his eye, the happy wrinkles around his nose. His hair is long enough it brushes your skin where your foreheads almost touch. His hold is like a cocoon of warmth.
âIâm sorry!â you blurt. âIâm so fucking sorry. Iâm stupid and stubborn and Iâve been so caught up in this program that Iââ
âNo,â he shakes his head, arms tightening as you squirm in his hold.
âLet me finish.â
âNo,â he says. âI like that you're stubborn and a pain in the ass. And it wasnât fair that I expected you to just push aside something like grad school for me. I was being selfish andââ
âI love you.â
You might say it again just to see the way he chokes and turns purple; pulls you closer. Heâs at a loss for words and you capitalize on the moment.
âIâve thought about what would happen if I didnât get in, like a million different possibilities and never once were you not there. I felt likeâŚI donât know, honestly. Like I was losing you and it was easier to be upset about the program than admit that. It was stupid and Iâm stupid, and Iâm really bad at speeches soâŚfeel free to shut me up or whatever.â
You wait for him to process what youâve said â a million emotions swiping across his face. Ridiculous some people act like heâs the embodiment of stoicism because if you know what to look for then theyâd realize heâs terrible at hiding the way he feels.
âYou love me?â
All that crying you did in the past few weeks means nothing because you could cry right now. But you donât look away, you donât ever want to look away from him again because youâd miss the way his face softens.
âWell, weâve been dating for the past three years. Itâs about time I told you.â
Wonwoo doesnât speak, facing morphing into confusion before he scoffs with disbelief. âYouâre so annoying.â
âHey!â you stomp but Wonwoo pulls you closer, buries his face in your neck and squeezes so tight something feels on the verge of popping in your spine. His ears burn red as he whispers those three words back quietly enough you strain to hear them. He bites your shoulder just to be an asshole.
âWhat the hell was that for?âÂ
He does it again.
âStop biting me you freak, weâre in public.â You pinch his side for good measure and only then does he smash the side of his face to yours and begin walking you backwards, in the direction of your apartment.
âWhatever, you love me.â
He lets you walk normally at the cross walk, your hand in his, both tangled in the warmth of the pocket of his sweatshirt because itâs fucking cold and the wind isnât helping. Wonwoo drags you straight home, up the stairs, and crowds you against the door and kisses you until you canât breathe.
âWhy are you crying?â
You are. You donât even realize it had started until you reach up and feel the dampness on your cheeks.
âProbably because I havenât slept in two days and I missed you, idiot.â Wonwoo kisses you flat on the mouth again at the confession, smiling big enough itâs less of a kiss and more of teeth pressed together. But itâs good. You like it. You speak into his mouth, âI promise I would have really âsloppy I love you sexâ but Iâm so tired I think I might throw up.â
âYou missed me.â he hums, more of a statement than a question.
âYeah, big head, I missed you. Now letâs sleep.â
âGod,â he moans, biting his lip in mock pleasure. Maybe even real pleasure at the idea of a Friday afternoon full of nothing but hazy dreams in silence rarely found in a frat house. âI love you too.â
You undress straight down to your underwear. Cotton with a conservative cut because in no universe did you think youâd end the day with Wonwoo back in your orbit. Wonwoo who loves you, Wonwoo who you love back. But he eyes you like youâre a grand prize and all he wants is to touch you. But the rush of adrenaline keeping you conscious is burning out quickly.
He strips too, nothing but boxers and circles under his eyes but heâs happy. It radiates off him in waves and if you werenât part of it, youâd throw something at him because itâd be annoying. You might just be glowing too.
You slip under the covers and Wonwoo snuggles up behind you, a second skin with his hand flat to your stomach to keep you from going anywhere. Not that you would. You donât even remember falling asleep.Â
When you wake up, itâs dark outside; which could mean itâs been minutes or hours since the winter sun likes to deep beneath the horizon early in the afternoon. Itâs the best sleep youâve had in weeks.
Everything is warm; your body beneath the comforter, where sweat sticks at your back, the lips dragging across the curve of your neck, Wonwooâs crotch firm between your legs.
âGood morning to me,â you sigh.
He hums in happy agreement, tongue traces the shell of your ear before kissing across your cheek and chin and finally landing on your mouth with a kiss that can only be described as sappy.
âGot started without me?â Your hands press under his underwear, two palms full of his ass holding him still enough to grind up into. Something about a sleepy make out has you hungry to lay there and take whatever heâll offer.
âIâll catch you up, donât worry.âÂ
You snicker, âNo wonder those freshmen have crushes on you.â
âWhat do you mean?â He traces your naked sides with his fingers.
âIâll catch you up,â you mock, then wince from a razor of his teeth as he shifts down your chest. âIf you were my TA, Iâd try to fuck you.â
âIâm trying to haveâ sloppy I love you sexâ and youâre trying to goad me into some student teacher shit?â
He bites your side, just a nip but you flare and blush anyway. âOoooo, tell me Iâm bad.â
âYouâre annoying.â
âYou love me.â
âAs I was saying,â he whispers into your stomach, fingers tugging your panties off. âSloppy I love you sex.â
âOkay, okay.â You sink a hand in his hair only for him to tug it away, fingers laced together over your sternum as he strokes you to life. âO-oh, thatâsâfuck.â
He hikes a leg up over his shoulder, out of the way for the fingers that satisfy the empty squeeze in your gut. Your tongue prickles with another goad but Wonwoo senses it first and swiftly works to silence you with a hot kiss to your clit that makes your vision bleed red.
The cold of the room works in his favor, pinching your nipples tight until you cave to the need to touch yourself. If the light was on then heâd watch and you get the urge to pause the action just for the chance to watch him watch you.
âDonât stop,â you grunt.Â
He eats it filthy, spit and arousal forming a wet mess slipping down your ass. The way his tongue lashes is nothing short of despicable and you know youâre the one that taught him that and you canât help but flare with pride. âIâm gonna cum, Iâm gonna cum, Iâmââ you chant blindly.
The warmth between your legs surrounds, suffocates until your thighs go numb and your shoulders pull away from the mattress with a groan rivaling porn; but you mean it. Wonwoo means it too.Â
You clench harder, revitalized in the stretch of another finger and a clip of teeth on your clit. You tug at your still clasped hands on your chest, bite into the meat of his palm and let the flood consume you with stiff legs and tears in your eyes. âOh, Wonwoo â u-ugh. Fuck. Fuck.â
Wonwoo takes it, mouth waiting for every eager roll of your hips; completely unphased until you melt back in the sheets with a pathetic mewl.
He kisses up your body, mouth and cheeks wet and warm. When he reaches your mouth you resist the urge to lick him clean. Something about that feels decidedly unlike sloppy I love you sex. So you slip your tongue between his lips instead and spread your legs until his crotch is level with the raw sensitivity of your own.
âRoll over,â you pant.
Like an asshole, he laughs. And then he drops his weight behind his hips and you actually see stars. âWanna do it like this.â
âMake love to me,â you croon.
He doesnât even pretend to stifle the obnoxious snort. âDonât ever say that again.â
âWhat happened to sloppy I love you sex?âÂ
âGetting to it. You like it when I come inside you?â Now heâs the one goading and youâre blushing like youâve never fucked him before. To be fair, you havenât fucked him as the man youâre in love with so itâs a first time for the both of you. Wonwooâs drunk on the power of having you stutter through something so familiar yet new.
âLove it.âÂ
âGood,â he agrees with a saccharine peck to your nose that makes you feel like a doe eyed virgin again. âI love you.â
Your need for games and pretense dissolves. You just want Wonwoo, all of him, until you canât take it any more.Â
Wonwoo senses the change, noses against your cheek before kissing you. Heâs still holding your hand, the other cupping your jaw, thumb tracing the curve of flesh. Itâs vulnerable and soft and something you probably couldâve experienced years ago if you werenât willfully blind.
âI love you, too.â
You whisper the confession so quietly it doesnât even make a sound but Wonwoo figures it out because he surges into action, pulling you to the center of the mattress in all your naked glory. The flood light from the side of the building reflects back in through the slats in the blinds and Wonwoo sits up to soak in what he can see in the limited light.
Twisting a hand in his hair, you pull him down for a kiss; forcing all the emotions you have to the surface. He doesnât make you wait. Instead, he drops flat, flat together from head to toe as he slips inside. Youâre still tight and sensitive, squirming at the feeling of being stretched so thin with Wonwoo wrapped tight in your arms.
âW-wonwoo,â you mewl. You know he loves the sound of his name, any time, in desperate moans and sleepy coos. Youâll say it as much as he wants to hear if he kisses you like he is now â with something new at the edge. Something needy. âMore.â
He wraps your legs around his hips, folding you clean in half with a heavy rut into your pussy youâll feel for days. You both want to drag this out â take hours to come apart and come together again and again â but Wonwoo is already working a hand between your bodies; stroking you over hot coals just to hear you moan his name again.
In record speed, you feel that familiar burn creeping along your spine. He fucks you into a wet mess and itâs all you can do to hold on and claw up his back. Breaks you into something limp and pliant, hands twisted together over head; tugs at that loose thread over and over until you unravel beneath him and Wonwoo watches like itâs magic.
âOh- oh, Wonwooââ you cry. Actually cry. Tears he swipes away with a thumb before pressing his mouth to yours.
Youâre swollen and stiff, muscles taunt while they twitch from a rush of complete bliss.
âM cumming, baby â oh my god.â Wonwoo bucks into the tight squeeze of your legs, deeper, harder, more. âLove youâfuck.â
He hides with soft sighs in your neck, skin sticky where you both slide together. You cradle him to your chest, fingers rushing through the sweaty tangles on his hair gently. A kiss to his head, his brow, his nose that wrinkles from pure content.
But youâre not done yet.
You wiggle from beneath him, peeling yourself off the pillows, lower half still numb from one hell of an orgasm. But you want more, insatiable and doped on years of repressed fondness. âCan you go again?âÂ
Wonwoo looks like you asked him to run a marathon. âYou want me to die?â
âWorse ways to go,â you coo, sinking low enough to take his cock in your mouth. It tastes like you and him and it makes your eyes roll.
âGod. I didnât know sappy sex meant youâd try to kill me,â he moans airly under your ministrations, a hand at the back of your head when you show off with a nose to his crotch before sliding off. âYouâre evil.â
âIâm in love with a sexy nerd and I'm horny,â you sigh dreamily, thrilled with the way he pulses in your hold.
âYeah, wellâŚâ he gives up on whatever rebuttal under the weight of your body on top of his. Nothing he can argue with in that statement anyway so you tease him with a kiss, smile when he chases your mouth, roll when you realize he can taste the mix of you both off your tongue.
âYou knowâŚIâll need a roommate in Boston.â
âHuh,â Wonwoo feigns. His focus is on the way your tug at his cock, spit and cum webbed between your fingers. This isnât the best way to have this conversation but youâre both high on sleep deprivation, love, and orgasms and it encourages loose lips.
âKnow anyone interested?â
He shudders back into the pillow, leaving his neck open for your teeth with a choked, âYeah.â
âWho?â
âMe.âÂ
âYeah?â
âYeah âfuckâwanna wake up to you every morning.â
âEven if Iâm a cranky bitch?â Your knees bracket his hips, cunt split on his cock as you grind against the underside.
His stomach caves as he responds with a thin voice, âyeah.â
You like waking up to him too. Falling asleep with him tangled in your body, listening to him hum in the shower when he thinks you arenât listening. Sometimes he even sings with a little encouragement like those times you were sick and the only thing that got your mind from exploding like thunderclaps was the lullabies from his childhood that he cooed into your hairline.
Starting and ending everyday with Wonwoo sounds nothing short of blissful.
âOkay.â You tangle his fingers with your own, rising on your knees to distract from the sheepish smile splitting your face in two.
âReally?â
âI like having you around,â you admit, sinking down on his cock. âMakes me feel better.â
Weird conversation over the back track of slapping skin and pathetic muffled sobs but you like it. Feels well overdue.
âA-about?â
Everything.
He gives a tender squeeze to your thigh, cradles your face in both hands, eye contact that you fight not shutter away from because itâs terrifying he can see you clearly.Â
Heâs lost; completely mesmerized by the way you bounce on the length of him, grind back into his lap like youâre possessed.
âCanât lastââ he chokes.
âSâokay,â you press the words into his cheek, his jaw, the bones jutting from around his collar. âJust wanna feel you.â
You bend and strain for his pleasure, to watch it dance across his brow as he cums inside you again, his hands heavy on your ass, your thighs, whatever he reflexively grips in a bid for grounding, nails leaving streaks of color. Twitching and jerking in sensitive painful bliss, his eyes roll back with a quick exhale. âFuck-k.â
You're sticky and used between the legs but you take comfort in the feeling and bask in the glow on top of him. Nothing but a pile of satisfied boneless goo where you lay with sweaty skin and heat you feel from the top of your head to your toes. âGood?â
âGreat,â he hums, pulling into one last toe numbing kiss.Â
When feeling returns to your bodies, you spend the rest of the night eating greasy pizza on the couch in nothing but his shirt, drinking wine straight from the bottle in celebration. You kiss Wonwoo whenever you want, which, admittedly, is a lot; a flurry of sappy pecks over his face leaves him blushing and dewy. When you fall asleep after making love once again, the last thing you hear is him saying he loves you too.
Epilogue
4 months laterâŚ
Thereâs a certain level of comfort that comes with receiving an official acceptance email. The words youâve been waiting to hear since Dr. Wagner all but confirmed your future in a fifteen minute meeting last semester.
On behalf of the Chemistry department, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a part ofâŚ
The big envelope in the mail today helped too.
Wonwoo sends a photo of his, unopened, because you promised to open them together tonight. On your date; which is nothing more than grading assignments and eating leftover take out on the couch like so many nights have been spent already. But this time heâs your boyfriend. And after all the worksheets are graded, and you get to cuddle deep into the worn couch cushions, you get to tell him you love him and heâll say it back and the flutter in your veins at the thought is nothing short of magical.Â
And this time you have a surprise waiting for him and he might just cry. Or you hope so. Youâve got $50 riding on the possibility.
Youâre sweating through your shirt from putting the new piece of furniture together for the past three hours by the time he shows up with a bag of takeout, Thai food from the place on Market where they know you by order, and a kiss youâve been missing since the morning when he left for one of his stupid workouts.Â
Wonwoo sets the bag on the counter, immediately pulling you into his arms before sagging like a deflated balloon. âPixel got adopted today.â
âReally?â
âYeah.â Heâs moping. He accepts your placating kiss with a pout, and starts unpacking the food.
You feel the smallest flutter of guilt but it's worth it. âThat sucks.âÂ
âShe needed a good home.â Wonwoo confirms and that's the end of the conversation.
Even in your final semester, your schedules are still packed. Crammed full with meetings, exams, work, Wonwooâs volleyball stuff that you attend with posters and sit near the other girlfriends. Itâs weird but not because its the same stuff you two were doing for years. But itâs exhausting.
So you donât blame Wonwoo for not noticing the newest addition to your apartment until heâs inhaled his food and the last third of yours.
âBabe.â
âWhat?â you ask, focusing on cutting another red slash into the white paper.
âWhatâs that?â
He points at the gigantic cat tower in the corner next to the couch. Itâs cramped in tight but in two months youâll both be in Boston with a bigger apartment with real bedrooms so itâs only temporary.
You shrug and make another mark. âOh, just something I picked up.â
âYou donât have a cat.â
âHuh. Weird.â Your eyebrows furrow in mock confusion but you keep grading papers or else itâs game over and the need to watch him puzzle together your plans is all you want. âThen whatâs the thing in the bathroom?â
âYou didnât.â
âI did,â you confirm.
Wonwoo stares open mouthed, between you and the bathroom door and back to you. He might pinch himself but he flies off the couch with childlike eagerness and your face hurts from smiling already.
Pixel spends the rest of the night curled up asleep on her new dadâs lap and youâre $50 richer. Mingyuâs girlfriend is already offering to catsit despite Mingyuâs pouts about losing money.
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you never thought you'd be murdered in the middle of an alley... but you also never thought you'd be saved by a man with knives in his fists so... yeah.
CW: suggestive, profanity, the dude that attacks you is clinically insane, Logan's a little socially awkward, your power is kinda bad but kinda good, etc.
It was amazing how quick your day could go from fantastic, to an absolute, fucking shit storm.
Waking up that morning, as you went through your morning routine, something in the air just told you that everything was going to go right.
Your curls turned out perfect after your nightly twist, your makeup flawless, accentuating your natural beauty, and your breakfast sandwich tasted especially delicious.
That, along with the relatively quiet day at the hospital, left you leaving work with a certain pep in your step that made you feel like you could take on anything.
So not once did you plan to end up in the middle of a dark alleyway, and not once did you plan to stand off with a shady, seemingly dangerous, man because of it.
You were too lost in the music of your earphones to notice you had taken a wrong turn, a rookie mistake to make so late at night.
A mistake you were currently cursing yourself for.
"Look," you started, hands up and voice calm in an attempt to placate the irritated man. "I didn't mean to walk over here. I'm just trying to get home."
Slowly, he stalked closer, stance low and beady eyes staring at you in a way that made your stomach drop, and blood run cold.
'Shit.'
"Please... I don't want any trouble," you continued, taking a few steps back, "Just let me pass."
He tutted in response, wagging his finger as a sadistic grin slowly rose to his lips, "People who trespass on my territory gotta pay a toll, sweetheart," he licked his teeth, words slurring together, "and I can see you got more than enough..."
Shamelessly, his eyes dragged over your body, the surface of your skin erupting with a feel of grime and dirt.
You'd need a serious shower when you got home.
If you made it home...
As he drew closer, your hand discreetly slid into your jean jacket pocket, latching onto the cool, metal handle of your switchblade.
You were hoping to de-escalate the situation, but with the way things were looking, you knew you'd probably have to fight your way out.
"I'm only gonna ask one more time," you warned, your tone curt as your expression sharpened into a glare. "Let me go."
Without warning, he let out a manic shout, charging for you at full force.
You let out a shriek of surprise, quickly moving out the way before he could tackle you, whipping your blade out your pocket and flicking it open in one fluid motion.
Quickly, he turned around, expression furious as he ran again, hands out in an attempt to grab you.
And as you tried to dodge, he managed to latch onto the back of your scrub, roughly throwing you to the ground with a grunt.
"Fuck!" you spat, head throbbing as you attempted to sit up, your chest pounding as he grabbed your ankles and dragged you closer.
Fear struck your heart like a freight train, and in a bout of panic, you swung your knife, plunging it into the closest thing you could reach.
He let out a roar of pain, dropping your ankles as he nursed his injured foot, and the handle sticking out of it would've been funny were it not for the dire situation.
Quickly, you scrambled to your feet, stumbling towards your purse which laid on the ground not too far away.
But the man took notice, his foot becoming a thing of the past as he chased you again, scooping up a large shard of broken glass as he ran.
"Get away!" you cried, hugging your purse into your chest as his charge backed you into a corner, your legs giving out as you slid down the wall.
Horrible visions of your fate flashed through your mind as he approached, images of your lifeless body plastered on the nightly news, or your smiling picture on a missing persons poster.
What a fabulous time for your power to chime in...
You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for whatever was to come, when a loud shink and a pained grunt cut through the air.
Forcing your eyes back open, they landed on a figure, who stood over the dead body of your attacker.
The way the man laid, and the way he was injured, made it look as if he was mauled by some sort of animal.
'Holy shit...'
Pulling yourself back to reality, you realized the figure was now standing right in front of you.
He held his hand out for you to take, sharp, brown eyes flicking between you expectantly.
Finally having the chance to get a good look at him, you took in his appearance.
With his broad chest and strong jaw, you'd think he'd be on the cover of Sexy Bikers weekly, arms and legs thick with muscle under his leather jacket and blue jeans.
Your eyes met in an instant, an electric buzz shooting up your spine at his features.
From what you could see through the darkness, they were sharp, but strong and hard, handsome in their own rugged way.
His lips pulled taut in a line as he stared back, brows furrowing while his eyes flicked around you, almost like he was trying to gauge your reaction.
Slowly, you placed your hand in his allowing him to pull you up to your feet.
"Thank you," you exhaled, shoulders dropping as relief finally sank in your shoulders. "I don't know what I would've done if you didn't come when you did..."
His arms came back to his sides, tiredly, as he awkwardly cleared his throat.
As if he didn't expect you to actually talk to him...
"What're you doin' walkin' by yourself so late?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble. "You got a death wish?"
The sound ignited something in you, a sudden flood of warmth rushing to your stomach, your reply nearly dying in your throat.
"I just got off from work... I wasn't paying attention and turned the wrong corner," you explained, choppily, the embarrassment of your mistake setting in.
It was a stupid one.
Especially for someone who's mutation gave her the ability to see the future.
Or variations of it, at least.
"You got a way to get home?" he asked, resting a hand on his hips.
His arms flexed with the motion, his bicep straining against the jacket sleeve, your eyes drawn to it almost instantly.
You'd never seen a man as handsome as him before, and while you felt bad for gawking, you were more concerned by the flurry of feelings swirling in your chest.
"Cab," you blurted, snapping yourself out of it, "I can hail a cab."
He nodded, smoothly and, to your surprise, silently, stepping to the side and out of your way.
You were ready to head back toward the street, when you suddenly remembered something.
"My purseâ" Jittery, the man nervously shoved it into your arms, averting his eyes from your thankful expression.
Your gorgeous, thankful expression.
God, he didn't understand what such a beautiful woman like you was doing in a place like this.
"I found it on the ground over there," he cleared his throat once again, shifting his weight on his feet, "I put your knife back in, too. You might wanna wash itâ"
Without warning, you pulled him into a hug, nearly sending his heart into a frenzy.
He kept his hands up, quite confused and unsure of what to do, especially since your impossibly soft cheek was pressed against his chest.
"Thank you... really," you smiled, warmly, as you looked up at him.
God, he was handsome.
Though, you pushed that thought to the back of your mind.
"It was nothin'," he assured, awkwardly, as you backed out.
"I don't suppose I could learn your name, could I?" you asked, a small smile rising to your lips at his social graces.
It was adorable.
Someone so big and strong being so nervous.
Instantly, he tensed, completely taken aback by your bold comment.
Maybe he was imagining things, but he could've sworn your tone made it sound like you were flirting withâ
"Logan," he blurted, stiffly.
You grinned, tucking a stray hair behind your ear, "(y/n)."
Slowly, you started toward the mouth of the alleyway, his eyes following you intently, "Well, Logan, I hope we meet again... Then I'll pay you back."
"Not necessary," he assured, shaking his head.
You paused your walk for a moment, turning to glance at him with a devilish glint in your eye.
"We meet again... I'll have something for you," you promised, crossing your fingers.
A shiver rolled down his spine at your words, and you continued on your merry way, exiting the alley and hailing a nearby cab.
Once he was sure you were gone, he let out a loud sigh, allowing his shoulders to sink and a tired hand to run through his hair.
You were something...
One conversation and he already knew you were going to be trouble, the smell of your perfume and the warmth of your smile already plaguing his mind.
He shook his head, taking a deep breath before turning to walk out the alley.
But just as he stepped forward, he felt something under his foot, lifting it to reveal a necklace.
You must've lost it in the melee...
Carefully, he picked it up off the ground, placing it in his pocket before walking out the backstreet.
The next time he saw you... he'd have something for you, too.
#james howlett#james howlett x reader#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#mcu#mcu x reader#wolverine x reader#x men#x men x reader#wolverine
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GET GONCHED
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Hi Mae!
I love your writing so much and think about it maybe too often haha. Today I fell and sliced the back of my hand open so I had to go wait 4 hours at the ER to get it sutured back together and I thought it might be a sort of funny scenario to write about with the marauders where R just walks up to them covered in blood like âheyy who wants to drive me to the ERâ and is pretty chill in demeanour until the reality of having a hole in her hand sets in once they clean her up. I went into shock then, lost my hearing for a few minutes which was scary, but luckily I had a someone nearby who could help. Of course no worries if you donât feel like it, I appreciate you and I hope you have a lovely day!âĄ
Thanks for requesting! I hope your hand is feeling better lovely <3
cw: blood, mention of razors (unrelated to blood)
poly!marauders x fem!reader ⥠788 words
âHey, Sirius?âÂ
Sirius screws the brush of his nail polish back into the bottle. âYeah?âÂ
âAre you busy?âÂ
âNot anymore.â He gets up from the bed, wandering towards your voice in the bathroom. âWhatâs up, gorgeous? You need something?âÂ
Sirius stalls when he finds you. Youâre standing there with a dissatisfied frown on your face, your hand a basin of blood held in front of you thatâs overflowing into the sink.Â
âMaybe a ride to A&E?â you ask. âIf youâre free.âÂ
âWhat the hell happened?â Sirius goes to you. He tries to take your hand, but you move it away.Â
âWait, your nailsââÂ
âIâm not really worried about my nails right now, babe.â He holds you by the wrist, turning the faucet on to a gentle flow before bringing your hand underneath it. The blood washes away quickly, and Sirius blocks your view of the cut, leaning down to see it. âHowâd you manage this?âÂ
âI was just opening my new razorsââÂ
âRazors?âÂ
âIt wasnât even the razors that did it,â you say, a laugh somewhere in your voice. Your raised voices have drawn attention from the rest of the house. Remus and then James appear in the doorway. âIt was the plastic it comes in. Surprisingly sharp.âÂ
âWhatâs going on?â asks James.Â
âShe would like to know,â Sirius informs him, âif itâs convenient for any of us to drive her to A&E.âÂ
You roll your eyes. âAlright, you donât have to say it like that. I just mean that itâs not so dire, Iâm hardly bleeding out.âÂ
âYou might be!âÂ
âWhatâd you do, love?â Remus moves forward to see, he and Sirius now clustered on either side of you, each closer to your own hand than you are.Â
âShe managed to injure herself with plastic packaging.â
âOkay. Again, the tone is a bit much,â you say.Â
âAw, sweetheart.â Jamesâ arms wrap around your waist. He smudges a kiss onto your cheek. âAre you okay?âÂ
âYeah,â you tell him, audibly softening at the affection, âit doesnât even hurt that bad, itâs only stingingâŚâ You go quiet.Â
Sirius glances back at you, and youâre staring between him and Remus, your hand in your view for the first time. You look suddenly paler.Â
âHey, baby.â Siriusâ voice draws the attention of the other two to whatâs happened. He steps in front of your hand again, squeezing up the length of your arm. âYouâre okay.âÂ
âItâsâŚâ You stare at where you had been for a moment longer, then snap your vision to the side. Youâre breathing a tad faster. âGod, sorry. I feel sort of sick.âÂ
âTake some breaths, dove, youâre alright.â Remus holds your hand close to his chest, shielding it from your view as he reaches into a nearby drawer for bandages. âWeâre just going to stop the bleeding and then take you to A&E, you donât have to do anything.âÂ
âAll of you?âÂ
âWhy?â James gives your middle a light squeeze. âAre there some of us youâd rather not have there?â
âI knew she had favorites.â Sirius grins. âCruel. Weâre only trying to be there for you, gorgeous.âÂ
You smile a little bit for their sake. Youâre not sure either of them believe it, but James gives you a thankful kiss nonetheless.Â
âKeep breathing,â he reminds you, big hand rubbing up and down your abdomen. âYouâre really doing so well. I was surprised by how calm you seemed a minute ago.âÂ
âYou should have heard her before you got here.â Sirius squints his eyes at you playfully. âShe wouldnât let me touch her hand because she was worried itâd mess up my nail polish.âÂ
âSweetheart,â James laughs, giving you another fond squeeze. âReally?âÂ
âPriorities, babe,â Sirius chides you.Â
âAlright,â says Remus. You feel a kiss on your knuckles, and then heâs turning around, your bandaged hand still held protectively between both of his. âIs anyone going to warm the car, or do I have to do everything?âÂ
You nod, chastened, and start towards the door, but youâre dragged back by three pairs of hands.Â
âI mean anyone not injured, dove.â Remusâ voice is heavy with loving exasperation.Â
âSee what weâve been dealing with? Itâs a two man job.â Sirius squeezes your shoulder on his way past, presumably going to warm the car. James says something about getting your shoes and follows behind.
You give Remus a woeful look. He tsks, folding you into a hug. âDid you really prioritize Siriusâ nail polish over your bleeding hand?â he asks in a murmur.Â
You mush your cheek to his chest. âOnly for a minute.âÂ
Remus is quiet, but his amused breath fans over the top of your head as he brings his lips down for a kiss.
#poly!marauders#poly marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders hurt/comfort#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders era
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Silence
Pairing: Azriel x Cassian's twin!healer!reader
Summary: When you get stuck Under the Mountain, your mate finds the sudden silence deafening.
Warnings: none!
a/n: Based on an anonymous request! Requests are so fun! I love exploring ideas I never would have thought of. Keep them coming! This all takes place within the same AU where reader and Azriel kept their relationship secret from the IC (besides Cassian).
Azriel's POV
The silence was deafening. Never in the last 450 years had he felt such empty silence. The bond was never closed.Â
But now it was silent and cold. The golden thread that joined him to you floated from the middle of his chest, right at the center of his soul, into nothing. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing until he saw stars, willing this to be a dream he would wake up from. But Azriel knew better than to think this was a dream. He never slept anyway.Â
âKeep Velaris safe,â Rhysâ voice had said. âAnd donât come after us.â
Rhysâ voice was calm, yet commanding. It was the demand of a High Lord: something Azriel physically couldnât ignore.Â
At first, he didnât understand the command. What did he mean, donât come after us? Keep Velaris safe? You and Azriel had just been having a mental conversation, gossiping over the abhorrent fashion of the Autumn brothers, when Rhysâ voice interrupted you mid-sentence.Â
But when Azriel reached back out to you to ask what the warning meant, he was met only with the thick, suffocating silence.Â
The bond was never closed. It stayed open when you were hard at work: treating the injured, delivering babies, or easing the pain of Illyriansâ clipped wings. It stayed open when you were angry, or sad, after an argument, especially if you wanted him to feel particularly bad about it afterward.
The bond was never closed. Not when he went on missions for weeks at a time. Not even when he dragged Rhysâ prisoners to the dungeons of the Hewn City and did unspeakable things. You were his comfort. Your shared emotions were what grounded him, reminded him that life was worth living. They were a constant in his life, as effortless to absorb as breathing.Â
You had become his inner voice; his conscience. His reminder that he wasnât the villain of this story. Now that it was gone, he wasnât sure.Â
For 450 years, the bond was never closed, a vow the two of you had made when you accepted the mating bond. But now, that silence was louder than any battle or war he had ever partaken in.Â
The memory of when he had found out you were mates played in his head. Azriel couldnât keep the memory from flooding into his mind and the guilt that came along with it every time he remembered.Â
You, covered in blood that wasnât your own, watching him with worry in your eyes.Â
âHow long have you known?â He remembers asking, venom lacing every word he spat at you. He was angry and embarrassed; how could he have missed all the signs? How could you keep such an important, life altering secret from him? He couldnât show that embarrassment, couldnât show weakness, especially not to you. So he chose anger instead.Â
âSince the day we met,â you replied, taking a step and trying to close the gap between the two of you. Instinctively, Azriel took a step back, the shock turning his embarrassment to shame and anger to rage.
âI was eleven when we met, Y/N,â he hissed, implying the absurdity of the time frame. Nearly a century of his fate was kept a mystery to him. Cassian had joined them at that point, pointedly observing that Azriel wasnât taking the news well. A thought surfaced in his mind. Turning to Cassian, he has to refrain from advancing on his longest friend. âAnd how long have you known?â Cassianâs silence was the only answer he needed.
Azriel shook his head to clear it, choosing not to remember how you cried at the way he turned away and left you with your heart in his hands, just for him to crush it.Â
It all made sense after your confession. He never understood why you insisted on being childhood friends. He was broken and lonely and disowned by his own family, but you had always shown true kindness and friendship. As you grew together, you slowly evolved into innocent adolescence first loves, and eventually adult lovers. It wasnât until your untimely move from Illyria to Velaris to work for the late High Lord that Azriel never saw you again. That is, until the first war with Hybern and your admission of the truth.Â
After Azriel had recovered from the initial anger and shock, your best kept secret had become a shared secret as the two of you accepted the bond. He still remembers the first time he heard your voice in his head. Your lovely, soft voice that wrapped around his mind like the sweetest honey.Â
âOld age getting to you?â You teased as Azriel took what looked like a painful blow to the stomach from Rhys during training.Â
He was so taken aback by your voice that he even turned to you, thinking you had said it out loud. But you werenât looking at him; you had your back turned in a combat sequence with your brother.Â
The momentary lapse rewarded him with another hit from Rhys, this time on the side of the head.Â
âEverything alright, brother?â Rhys asked, concern flooding his voice.Â
But Azriel only smirked and turned back to his brother to begin again.Â
âYouâll pay for that later, loveâ he responded through the bond and could have sworn that he saw you falter in your training from his peripheral vision.Â
How could he have let this happen? How could he have not foreseen that you would be taken from him? A mysterious invitation calling for the High Lord and his second in command to attend a party Under the Mountain? What kind of Spymaster couldnât ascertain the danger that now all-consumed the other half of his soul?
Azriels felt something hit his knees, the sting traveling up to make his teeth chatter. He pulled his hands away from his eyes and saw that he had fallen to the ground of the Townhouse. Cassian quickly knelt in front of him, gripping his shoulders to keep him from total collapse.Â
Azriel stared at Cassian and saw his lips moving rapidly, but no words came out. He furrowed his brows in confusion. What was he trying to tell him?Â
In fact, Azriel heard no sound at all besides the buzzing silence in his ears and his own mind hurling insult after insult of his own sad excuse of being a mate.Â
But waitâŚthat was it. Cassian had turned to the others and Azriel was able to read the words on his lips as he spoke to the remaining Inner Circle in the room: Sheâs his mate.
All at once, too many voices spoke and the sounds came rushing back to Azriel. As if he would keep him from dissolving through the floor, he gripped onto his found brother for dear life.
âCassian,â Azriel groaned, finding his voice at last. âCassian, sheâs gone. I canât feel her.â
âWe will get her back, brother. I promise.â
#azriel#azriel angst#azriel fluff#azriel shadowsinger#azriel smut#azriel x reader#acotar#azriel acotar#azriel spymaster#pro azriel
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