#can't be rocking up to my own event with no offerings!!!

[4th-make-quail]

welp, that's nearly 700 words of soft cock worship/cockwarming written ehehe

gotta exorcise this idea from my brain before i start working on xiiweek stuff 👁👁👁

[bl3upi3]

A Night to Remember | Monkey D. Luffy

Part 2

Summary: In the midst of a disaster at sea, your crew encounters the Straw Hat Pirates led by Monkey D. Luffy. After initial skepticism, you accept their help, and amidst the chaos, a deep connection forms between you and Luffy. The night brings passion, revealing mutual feelings.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut, p in v unprotected (I'm bad with warnings)

A/N: This is straight out of my imagination. I just watched the live action and am thinking of starting the anime so yes, this work is a messy mix of anything and everything. English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. I tried not to change Luffy's personality as much as I could. (My requests are open if wanted)

As you and your crew sailed through the unpredictable waters of the Grand Line, the tranquility of the day shattered in an instant. A violent collision rocked the sturdy vessel as it struck an unyielding underwater rock, tearing through the boat's hull with a heart-wrenching screech of rending wood. The impact sent shockwaves of fear rippling through your crew, their faces etched with stark dread as they grasped the gravity of the situation.

Chaos ensued as you scrambled to assess the extent of the damage, your hands slick with seawater as you desperately tried to gauge the severity of the breach. Panic gnawed at your senses, every second feeling like an eternity, and uncertainty hung heavy in the salt-tinged air.

As if orchestrated by the very elements themselves, a thick and disorienting fog descended upon you with an eerie swiftness, obscuring your vision and muffling any sounds beyond the boat. It was as though the elements had conspired to further complicate your dire predicament, isolating your vessel in an unsettling cloak of obscurity.

Your heart pounded within your chest as the realization settled in—the lives of your crew hinged upon your quick thinking and resourcefulness. Yet, amidst the silence of the disaster, a creaking sound pierced the air. You yielded your place to a member of your crew to investigate the source of the noise.

As you strained your eyes to peer through the dense fog, a white boat with a sheep-shaped figurehead slowly materialized before you. Your gaze instinctively rose to the flag fluttering from its mast—a skull-headed emblem adorned with a distinctive straw hat—a flag of pirates.

"Hey there! It looks like you could use some help," a figure standing on the edge of the approaching vessel called out.

"Who are you?" you inquired, squinting in an attempt to discern the identity of the mysterious individual.

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy, the captain of the Straw Hat Pirates! The fog swallowed us up, and we stumbled upon your beleaguered vessel, which doesn't seem to be in the best shape," he cheerfully replied.

You and your crew exchanged glances, unsure of how to react to this unexpected turn of events.

With a cautious tone, you responded, "I appreciate your offer, Monkey D. Luffy, but we can't be too careful out here. We've just suffered a terrible collision, and our ship is badly damaged. How can we trust that your intentions are genuine?"

Luffy grinned widely, his boundless energy seemingly undeterred by your skepticism. "I get it; you're being cautious. That's a good trait to have out here. But you've got my word. We're not here to harm you. We're pirates, yeah, but we're not the bad guys!"

As he spoke, Luffy's crew members began to emerge from the fog, appearing on the deck of their ship one by one. Each of them had a distinct look and demeanor, but there was something about them that suggested they were not the typical ruthless pirates one might encounter.

One of Luffy's crewmates, a man with green hair added, "We're just passing through these waters, and we've had our fair share of adventures. We know what it's like to be in a tight spot. We're offering our help because it's the right thing to do."

You considered their words and looked at your own crew. They were still on edge, but the desperation of your situation was evident. Your ship was taking on water faster than you could bail it out, and the fog showed no signs of dissipating. It was a perilous situation, and you needed all the help you could get.

After a moment of deliberation, you turned back to Luffy and said, "Alright, we'll accept your offer of help. But know this, if there's any treachery or harm intended for my crew, we won't hesitate to defend ourselves."

Luffy's face lit up with excitement "Deal! You won't regret it! We'll get your ship fixed up in no time!"

A wooden plank was placed between the two boats, allowing you and your crew to board the white vessel. Luffy spoke with enthusiasm, "Welcome to the Going Merry," offering his hand for you to shake.

You looked around at his small crew, taking note of each member. However, you didn't shake Luffy's hand just yet. Instead, your gaze settled on his comrades. Luffy followed your gaze and introduced them, "This is Roronoa Zoro," pointing to the green-haired guy who had spoken earlier, "This is Nami, Usopp, and Sanji," revealing the rest of his crew whom you hadn't seen yet.

"I hope you're hungry," the blond-haired Sanji said with a smile, "I've prepared a meal fit for thousands."

As your crew members cautiously stepped onto the Going Merry, they exchanged wary glances, still unsure about this unexpected alliance. But the warm smiles and genuine hospitality displayed by Luffy's crew began to put them at ease, albeit slowly.

You finally shook Luffy's hand, sealing the agreement. "Thank you for coming to our aid, Monkey D. Luffy. We appreciate your help, and we'll do our part to assist as well."

“You can call me Luffy” he smiled

"Thank you, Luffy," you replied with a nod. "I'm y/n, the captain of this crew. We're in your debt."

With introductions made and a mutual understanding established, the two crews set to work. Your crew members, alongside Luffy's crew, began assessing the extent of the damage to your ship, while Luffy himself seemed to be filled with boundless energy as he led the charge, making plans and offering assistance wherever needed.

As the day wore on and repairs were underway, you couldn't help but notice the camaraderie among the Straw Hat Pirates. They worked seamlessly together, each member contributing their unique skills to the task at hand. It was evident that they were a tight-knit crew, bound not just by their captain's leadership but by a genuine sense of friendship.

Nami, the crew's navigator, approached you as you oversaw the repairs. "You're lucky we happened upon you," she said with a sly grin. "The Grand Line can be unforgiving to those who sail it unprepared. But don't worry, with our help, you'll be back on your way in no time."

Usopp, the sharpshooter of the crew, chimed in, "And if you ever run into any trouble out here again, just give us a shout. We've got your back."

Sanji, the crew's cook, began preparing a feast for both crews to enjoy together. The aroma of his cooking filled the air, and your crew members couldn't help but be drawn to the delicious scent. It was a welcome respite from the earlier chaos and fear.

As evening fell, and the repairs to your ship neared completion, you gathered with Luffy and his crew around a makeshift table on the deck of the Going Merry. Plates of food were passed around, and laughter filled the air as stories were shared.

It felt so peaceful and normal—it wasn't often that you found yourself enjoying such casual conversation with strangers.

"So, where are you headed next?" Nami asked as she took a sip from her cup of sake.

You shrugged, briefly glancing at your crewmates before responding, "I haven't made up my mind just yet."

Luffy leaned back in his seat, his signature straw hat tilted low over his eyes. "You know, y/n, the Grand Line is full of adventures waiting to happen. We're always looking for new crewmates and allies. You and your crew seem like good people. Ever thought about joining us on the ultimate adventure?"

Your crew members exchanged surprised glances at Luffy's proposition. It was a tempting offer, to say the least. The idea of joining the Straw Hat Pirates and exploring the Grand Line with them was exhilarating, but you knew you couldn't make such a decision on a whim.

You chuckled, trying to defuse the sudden tension in the air. "Well, Luffy, that's a tempting offer, but we've got our own dreams and goals. Maybe our paths will cross again in the future."

Amid the ongoing dinner festivities, you couldn't help but become engrossed in the lively conversation with Nami. It was a refreshing change to find yourself in the company of another woman after what felt like an eternity. You shared an unspoken connection, a bond that went beyond words, stemming from the shared experience of being the sole females in your respective crews. It was as if you both understood the unique challenges and dynamics that came with that role.

Your discussions with Nami ranged from the practicalities of navigation and mapmaking to the more personal aspects of life at sea. You exchanged stories of your adventures, your dreams, and the occasional frustrations that came with your responsibilities. Nami's wisdom and wit resonated with you, and it was clear that you were kindred spirits in many ways.

However, despite your best efforts to focus solely on your conversation with Nami, you felt a steady gaze on the side of your face—Luffy's eyes never left you. He remained leaned back in his chair, contentedly eating and drinking, seemingly absorbed in your every word.

The dinner eventually came to an end, and the crew members of both vessels retreated to their respective quarters for some much-needed rest. You returned to your boat, grateful for the repairs and hospitality of the Straw Hat Pirates.

As you lay in your cabin, trying to find sleep amidst the creaking of the ship and the gentle rocking of the waves, you couldn't help but think about Luffy's offer. The allure of joining his crew and embarking on the ultimate adventure was tantalizing, but your responsibilities as a captain weighed heavily on your mind.

Unable to sleep, you decided to take a walk on the deck of your ship to clear your thoughts. The night was calm, the stars glittering above, and the moon casting a silvery glow over the water.

After your contemplative walk on the deck, you noticed a faint light coming from one of the rooms on Luffy's ship, the Going Merry.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to investigate. The door to the room was slightly ajar, and you could see a warm glow emanating from within.

As you entered the room, you were met with an unexpected sight. Luffy was sitting there,his face illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp atop his desk. His head was resting against the table as he continued to write something down on his notepad.

You cleared your throat, breaking the silence that had engulfed the room

Luffy looked up, his wide grin returning as he noticed your presence. "Hey there, y/n," he greeted, his tone friendly and inviting. "Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

You nodded, stepping further into the room. "Yeah, I wanted to thank you for everything you did today”

Luffy gestured for you to take a seat opposite him, and you obliged, settling into a chair. The room was cozy, filled with maps, navigational tools, and scattered notes that attested to the adventures this crew had undertaken.

"No need to thank me," Luffy said with a shrug. "Helping out is what we do. Besides, it's been fun having your crew around." He then dropped his voice into a whisper having a more serious tone “I appreciated having you around,  y/n."

As you stared into his eyes, you noticed  something in his expression that caught you off guard. His eyes… they were different. In a way, they were filled with longing and desire. 

"Luffy…" you muttered softly, unable to tear your gaze away from the intensity of his eyes. "What's going on? Why are you looking at me that way?"

Luffy sighed deeply getting up of his chair, he walked over to the small window in the room, gazing out at the starry night. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, as if contemplating how to put his feelings into words. Then, he turned back to face you, his usual carefree demeanor giving way to a more serious expression.

"Y/n," he began, "I don't know how to say this the right way, but I can't help how I feel. Ever since we met today, there's been something about you that's drawn me in. I've traveled to countless islands, faced dangerous foes, and encountered all sorts of people, but meeting you felt different. It's like... like I've found something I didn't even know I was searching for."

His confession left you breathless, your heart racing in your chest. This revelation took you by surprise, especially considering it came so soon after your initial meeting. 

You, too, stood up and approached him, "Luffy," you began, your voice soft but filled with warmth, "I can't deny that there's something special about you. But we both know we will never see each other again”

Luffy nodded, his gaze unwavering. "I know that, y/n. But I've always followed my heart, and my heart tells me that you're special. I don't want to let this opportunity slip away without trying." 

As he leaned closer, his eyes locked onto yours,  his hand reaching forward to cradle your cheek in his palm. Your breathing grew shallow, your pulse quickening, as he brought his lips closer to yours.

Before you knew it, his lips were gently pressing against yours, sending tingles throughout your entire body.  A feeling of euphoria overcame you, and your eyes widened as you realized that what you'd felt was real. The kiss lasted longer than you expected, and when you finally pulled back, your heart was pounding so hard inside your chest.

Luffy smiled brightly, "This was a first time for me, y'know?"  

A blush spread across your cheeks as you laughed lightly in response. "Well, then don't stop" you whispered.

He instently crashed his lips on yours again, this time angrier and hungrier. His hands wandered from your waist to your hips, pulling you impossibly close to him until you felt as if you were melting in his embrace. His kiss deepened,  his tongue dancing with yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

There's no need to hold back now, you told yourself. You felt his warm hands caressing your skin, making heat pool between your thighs.

Your hand instinctively reached to remove his hat, but he stopped you, his hand gently grasping your wrist. He paused to look into your eyes for a few heartbeats before releasing you and carefully placing his hat atop your head.

As Luffy's hat settled atop your head, you couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions. It was a symbol of trust, a connection that transcended words, and a promise of something more. You gazed into Luffy's eyes  again, still flushed red with passion and arousal.

"Can I be honest with you?" you asked, your hands still resting on his shoulders.

Luffy hesitated for a second before giving a quick nod in return. "Of course", he replied.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his again " You're a good kisser" you whispered against his lips. 

His lips curled into a slight smirk as he responded "Thanks".You closed your eyes as his lips trailed down to your jawline, leaving soft kisses along the way. His lips traced down your neck, slowly kissing your collarbone.  Your breathing increased, your mind becoming clouded with lust and desire. As your fingers ran through his hair, you felt him smile against your skin. Luffy's warm breath brushed against your ear as he spoke. "Do you want to have sex?" he asked.

His question surprised you, your mind taking a couple seconds to process the request. After all, this wasn't something you usually discussed with anyone. "Umm, I'm sorry. What?" you stuttered.

Luffy chuckled "Don't worry. There's nothing wrong with saying no if you don't want to."

You shook your head in disbelief. “It’s just…” you began, a frown forming on your face as you tried to gather your thoughts. “Are you sure? Do you really want to?” you asked quietly.

Luffy's smile grew wider as he leaned in, bringing his face closer to yours once again. “Yes, I'm sure.”

Your eyes darted to his lips, which were inches away from your own, hesitating for a moment before you moved forward. With your lips barely touching his, you whispered "Then yes..." 

Luffy grinned as he kissed you, his hands slid from your waist to behind your thighs, lifting you off the ground as your legs encircled around his waist. His mouth moved hungrily against yours as he got to his knees, the wood  creaking beneath his weight causing you to moan when you felt his hardness press against you through his pants. 

Your breath hitched in your throat when he began to move his hips slowly, eliciting a gasp from you as you pressed your pelvis against his crotch, feeling his erection harden in response. You moaned louder as you felt him grind his hips forward.

"You'll have to be quiet, everyone's asleep downstairs" Luffy whispered into your ear, moving one of his hands to cup your breast. 

The sound of his voice sent shivers down your spine, your body heating up as his hand moved to the hem of your shirt, removing it and throwing it to the side. You hurried to undo the buttons on his vest, letting it fall to the floor with yours. 

You slide off of him, your heart skipped a beat when he reached down and started unbuttoning his trousers,  pulling them off and tossing them aside. Your gaze drifted lower, noticing his bulge pushing against his black boxers. When you heard him groan, you glanced up at him, seeing his eyes darken in anticipation.

You took off your shorts and underwear, allowing them to fall to the ground next to his clothes. As you crawled towards him and lowered yourself onto his lap once again, he held you tightly, bringing you so close to him that you could feel his beating heart pulsating against your breasts.

"Oh God!" Luffy gasped, his teeth grinding together as he gripped you tighter, grinding you against him. You reached between your bodies, slipping your fingers into his boxer briefs, rubbing them lightly against his length. He let out a low grunt, his hips bucking upwards as you continued teasing his shaft with your touch.

You set him free from the cloth that separates you, and positioning his member against your entrance,  you pushed yourself slowly down onto him, feeling him tense as he entered you completely.

He grunted loudly, his hands clutching tightly onto your thighs as he thrust himself into you, the sensation of being filled filling you with joy. 

Luffy leaned forward, capturing your lips once again in another passionate kiss, his tongue tangling into your mouth. His hand traveled downwards, stopping above your clit as he slowly stroked it. As he did so, you moaned softly into his mouth, your whole body shaking.

"Fuck! Y/n," he gritted out.

"I thought you told me we had to be quiet" you teased, your voice breathy.

Luffy smirked as he rolled his eyes, shifting you slightly on top of him to allow you to continue to ride him.  Your hips thrust upward and downward, faster and faster until you reached an orgasm. Luffy placed his hand on your mouth as you rode your high, his face scrunched up in pure pleasure.

The moment passed, and you sat yourself up, looking down at him, "Sorry" you giggled. "I guess I kind of lost track of myself."

He snorted, "You mean lost track of my dick" he joked.

You laughed softly while playfully hitting his arm, "Yeah well, maybe I got carried away... or perhaps a little bit too excited."

Luffy shrugged, "Maybe a bit, but we're not going to talk about those kinds of things right now. We're both naked and horny, remember?"

"Mhmmm" you hummed as you grabbed him and laid on your back, pulling him atop of you . He gently took the hat off you and set it down somewhere to the left of where your discarded clothes lay.  He then proceeded to take control once again, pushing his cock deeper into you. Your breathing grew rapid, your eyes closed as you relished in the feeling.

Luffy began thrusting rapidly within you, his eyes staring deeply into yours. In response, you grasped onto  his back as your nails lightly dug into his skin.  Sweat dripped from your brow, and your legs quickly wrapped around his waist, pulling him ever further into you until there wasn't an inch of room between you two.

Luffy looked down at you as his thrusts slowed, watching as your chest rose and fell rapidly as you panted lightly.

 He gave you one last loving peck on the lips before returning his attention to his own actions. He pulled out slightly only to slam back in just as hard. Your back arched, causing you to moan loudly as he drove deeper into you. He buried his face in your neck, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh as you cried out with ecstasy.

Luffy's movements became frenzied as his climax overtook him, he withdraws himself from you before his semen spilled onto your stomach. A gasped escaped your lips as you felt his seed drip onto you.

The two of you fell silent, your eyes locked on each other, your chests rising and falling as you caught your breaths.

"Fuck, I thought it was your first time" you said between heavy breathes as you took a nearby tissue to clean you off

Luffy smiled, laying  down beside you "It is" he said out of breath looking at you with lustful eyes.

You gave him a soft smile,  your fingers running through his messy locks as he closed his eyes and sighed in content. 

The night, filled with passion and tenderness, eventually yielded to the creeping light of dawn. Gently, you stirred from the warmth of Luffy's embrace, feeling a pang of bittersweet nostalgia as you reluctantly disentangled yourself.

With a sigh, you rose from the ground, limbs still tingling from the shared intimacy of the night before. The room held the faint fragrance of your encounter, a lingering reminder of the passion that had unfolded.

As you dressed and made yourself presentable, you couldn't help but steal glances at Luffy, who lay in peaceful slumber, his straw hat resting next to him.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the small window, casting a gentle glow on the room.A sign that the time had come to part ways with the Straw Hat Pirates. Though the night had felt like a dream, reality beckoned, and your own ship awaited.

You bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, your heart heavy with unspoken emotions.

As you made your way towards the door, you turned back one last time, taking in the sight of the man who had turned your world upside down in just one night. With a whispered goodbye, you stepped out of the room, leaving behind the memories of an unforgettable encounter.

A/N: Hope you liked it, idk if I should make it a short fic or not. Anyways, don’t hesitate to give other ideas, my requests are open :)

[chocosvt]

HER | part four.

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

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 22.5k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

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

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

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

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

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

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

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

here we goo. part four :o i can't believe it's already the fourth part!! i guess the last chapter ended on somewhat of a cliffhanger so may this quench your curiosity! but, beyond that...

this part has a punch of its own... dotdotdot...

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

Wonwoo was lucky to discover an empty, spare guest bedroom down an off-shooting hallway for you two to refuge in while the volcano settled upstairs. Furthermore, he was grateful that you had relaxed enough to be released from his straightjacket arms, and even more grateful the room was quiet. The confrontation had shot his nerves. His hands were still trembling. As you took a seat on the bed, Wonwoo moved toward the window and stared into his darkly silhouetted reflection, taking paced breaths until everything stopped pressing down on him. He’d already had his fair share of stalling fights between Vernon and other drunks at the downtown bars.

He had never anticipated stopping you from a fight. 

“Fuck, I feel like absolute shit…” you groaned, and when Wonwoo turned around, he saw you crunched up, fingers digging at your hair while you sat at the very edge of the primly dressed bed.

“Should I get you anything?” He asked in a soft voice, coming over to crouch down in front of you. “Do you want some water?”

You wouldn’t look at him, instead staring into your knees that were bent and flush against your chest. For a moment, there was nothing said, until you sniffed that very distinctive sniffle of someone who’d just snorted a line. Rubbing at your nose, you nodded.

“Please?”

“Yeah, ‘course. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Wonwoo didn’t know where to get water, though he did remember the bottle dropped at the bottom of the staircase. He practically ran to grab it. Coming back into the spare room, Wonwoo clicked the door shut as quietly as possible and joined you at the bed.

“Here,” he offered, uncapping it for you.

You sipped from it eagerly, gulp after gulp, then wiping off your lips when it became too cumbersome to swallow.

He took the bottle back, capping it again and throwing it somewhere random on the bed. Wonwoo could see with concern that you weren’t entirely there—jaded, from the drinking and smoking and intaking a dangerous substance you probably shouldn’t have. Your face appeared so hazy, disconnected, as though you were staring off into a warm light buried in the distance that only presented itself to you.

“That was a lot, wasn’t it?” Wonwoo sighed into the dark room, rolling up his sleeves, unsure of what he should do or even say.

You sniffled again, and shook your head. “I feel sick.”

“I know, I’m sorry... what do you want to do?”

Breathing out heavily at the small amount of labour it required to look backward at the bed, you nodded. “I want to lie down.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo said, feeling relieved, “that’s a good idea.”

You smiled at him, though it was misted over and a bit loopy. 

He watched you lean down, fiddling with the tiny buckle belonging to the right heel strapped over your foot. Afraid you might hit the floor like a flour sac if you stayed hunched over for too long, he instantly squatted down to help you, gently nudging your hand away.

“I’ll take them off for you,” Wonwoo reassured, loosening the buckle enough to slide the expensive, black heel from your foot, doing so with the utmost delicacy, akin to sorting fine china.

Just before he removed the other heel, Wonwoo caught you staring down at him with a particular admiration behind those glassed eyes that made his entire chest become swollen. He tried to ignore the feeling, no matter how elated it made him on the inside.

“Thank you.”

“Uh, no problem,” Wonwoo answered, standing up and gesturing to the bed, “do you think you’ll take a nap?”

“… I don’t know.”

“That’s okay… should I get Princess to come stay with you? Or, I can always get Mingyu, too. Whatever you think is best.”

You were still looking back at the guest bed, unresponsive, and Wonwoo had wondered if you even heard him speak. The moonlight that cascaded in from the windows patched an intricate shadow overtop the quilt, and you started spreading your hand across it, as though you could pick up the silhouette and move it.

And then you glanced at Wonwoo again, smiled slightly. “Would you lay down with me… if I asked you?”

He immediately cleared his throat, “uh, lay down with you?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded, “I need your company. Please?”

He clenched his fist tight, an index nail carving along the cuticle of his scarred thumb. Logically, Wonwoo should leave—he should march back upstairs and go search for Mingyu or Princess to help nurse you through your brain fog. Realistically, however, Wonwoo wasn't going to do any such thing. Realistically, Wonwoo was very high, and very delirious, and completely at your beckon.

Kicking off his sneakers, Wonwoo crawled onto the guest bed alongside you. He breathed out a sigh of comfort as his back was perfectly cushioned by the supple pillows organized against the headboard. If he thought about it for too long—relaxing on a stranger’s bed in a stranger’s home at two or three in morning beside a girl who’d just snorted coke upstairs in the attic and nearly leapt on her friend in a fight—his head would start to ache. So, Wonwoo didn’t think about it. He let everything happen as it naturally desired to.

You tucked yourself close against Wonwoo, closer than what was appropriate for two people who were presumably friends, stretching your leg across his waist and latching it over his hip, an arm around his wide chest, your head settled cozily underneath his chin.

He couldn't care less about the morality.

Especially when he wriggled his arm beneath you, his knuckles coming to stroke up and down your bare, soft back, feeling along the subtle groove of your spine with every lulling, especially tender caress. Truly, Wonwoo didn’t know why he cared so remarkably little about how wrong it was to touch you and hold you. Maybe it was your shallow and warm breathing that kept tickling his neck, or the weight of your leg against his pelvis—you as a whole seemed to smudge his rationality—his own personal drug.

“Can you please tell me a story?”

“Hm?” Wonwoo murmured, stilling his fingertips at the top of your shoulder blade. “Tell you a story? Why’s that?”

“Because, my head hurts. And I want a distraction.” You then poked your face up from his neck, staring at Wonwoo through the clouds in your eyes, sounding sleepy enough to lose consciousness. “And I love the sound of your voice, and how it makes me feel.”

He proceeded to rub something off your chin with a few brushes from his thumb, and nodded, tucking your head back down.

“Okay… let me think for a second...”

“Wait—” you suddenly mumbled, awkwardly reaching behind you for his hand rested against your shoulders, “—I liked when you were going up and down. It felt good. Please, can you do some more?”

“Yeah, sorry. I just stopped to think,” Wonwoo hummed with an amused smile, continuing to stroke his knuckles and hearing the heavy sigh you breathed aloud.  

He thought a few moments longer for a story that he could tell you; something interesting, but not too detailed.

“I’ve got one.”

He made a rumbling noise in his throat to clear it, staring off at the dresser mirror opposite to the bed, where Wonwoo could just decipher that vague, silvery thread outlining your entangled bodies.

“When I was around eleven, twelve years old, my family used to go to this waterpark every summer, like an hour car ride from our house. My brother and I made up this game. We called it lifeguard, or, like, swimming attendant. Basically, you play dead in the water, and whoever’s the attendant has to save you. Anyway, it was a pretty stupid fucking game to play at a water park as you can imagine. But when we got there, the lifeguard wasn’t in his chair. So, like, my brother, trying to be cool or funny, thought it would be a good idea to sit in the chair himself. I had to pretend to drown.

The problem with that, though—the actual life guard was coming back. He sees me pretending to drown, thinks I’m actually drowning—I don’t know, I guess I was selling it super well—and he dives right into the water, pulls me out and everything, lies me across the cement all surgical like. I’m so fucking embarrassed, my brother’s ran off somewhere—I just go along with it while everyone’s watching, knowing damn fucking well I’m a sham. My mom’s panicking. She didn't realize it was part of some idiotic game we made up. I hated my brother for a week straight. I’ve refused to swim ever since.”

There was a chuckle against his neck, and Wonwoo felt your body vibrate with a soft fit of laughter. He hadn’t recalled that story in years, though it dusted off the latent anger toward his older brother that he had never quit holding. Nonetheless, it was still rewarding to tell you. That water park was once his most cherished place to visit, admittedly during a much different period in his life, when the only thing he worried over was whether or not they’d have his favourite ice cream flavour or if he might miss that gigantic bucket full of freezing water that dropped every half-hour.

“I’m sorry that happened…” you mumbled against his neck, your breath akin to a sweeping feather, “but it’s a bit funny.”

“No, I know,” Wonwoo agreed, grazing his hand low to the base of your back, “I can laugh at it now... even if I’m still mad.”

“Can I ask you something, please?”

“Sure.”

“I just want to know… when did you move here? Did you come here for university? Or, was it before that? And, like… did your family come with you? Did you move alone? I’m just curious…”

“So, I spent two years at a university in Korea, for something different than what I’m doing now. It was accounting stuff—”

“Oh, more boring.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo laughed, reaching his hand underneath the warm plump of your thigh to adjust it more comfortably against his hip, “I actually agree with you. It was boring, and I was… to put it lightly, miserable. Very, very miserable. So, I dropped it, had a really long and excruciating conversation with my brother about the whole thing—what I wanted to do, where I wanted to go. I have an uncle that lives out here. Not close to our school. He’s hours away. But I figured, I’m old enough. I need, just—I need a fucking change. I’ll move out, stay with him, find my footing. And, uh, I ended up here.”

You smiled against his skin, lips practically pressed at his neck, and then you exhaled, pulling a shiver along the length of his spine.

“Hm… I’m glad you made that choice.”

Wonwoo’s fingers fleshed deeper against the underside of your thigh as he sighed into the still bedroom air, thinking back to the pressure, the bickering between himself and his parents, the desire to at last pull the pin and take a risk, even if said risk was going to crash and humiliatingly burn at his feet. In a way, it had. But with you, his reward was building back up again. It wasn’t all fruitless.

“Me too.”

"Thanks for sharing that with me,” you murmured, snuggling impossibly closer into his body and breathing him in like the sweet, baked scent of pastries fresh from a hot oven, or the airy honeysuckle outside on a summer’s day. “I like knowing about you.”

For once, Wonwoo wasn’t scared that you knew.

Maybe he should be scared. He wasn’t being cautious enough, instead pouring more soul into his heart than his logic. But then—why did it feel so good in that moment? Something he was terrified of had flipped on its head and turned into a real, tangible happiness. He continued to lay with you in the silence. The ceiling was full of shadows that he studied to keep himself awake while his thumb rubbed easy circles into your thigh. Your body was giving him heat.

If no one ever opened that door, Wonwoo wouldn’t complain.

He could lay there until the earth caved in.

“Wonwoo?”

“Mm?”

“I want to try getting up now.”

Rubbing the heel of his palm against his eye, he massaged away the desire for sleep that had finally managed to catch up to him.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay—” he began slowly pushing himself upward, helping you in the process with an arm at your waist, “—I’ll grab your shoes.”

“Thank you.”

Nonetheless, he knew you couldn’t stay cocooned against him forever, even if he wanted it more than his next breath. It felt awfully vapid to lose your warmth. The air around him was so much colder, like an icy metal. Wonwoo had nearly stumbled over his sneakers as he searched around the end of the bed, prompting him to squat down and shove his shoes back on. Next, he collected your lacquered, expensive high heels, which had practically blended into the darkness if not for the moonlight raining through the windows.

You were sat at the edge of the blankets, waiting for him.

“How do you feel? Better?” Wonwoo asked while crouching at your knees and fishing up the right heel first.

“My head still hurts a little. But I think I’ll be fine,” you admitted, allowing Wonwoo to softly touch at the back of your ankle as he helped guide your foot through the black loop. “It’s like—I can feel it a lot more now. I’m getting that weird, dreamy sensation, right before it really hits. And my mouth is kinda dry.”

“Hm,” Wonwoo hummed, now helping to fasten on the other heel, “I’m sure there’s more water upstairs. Is that too tight?”

You wriggled your toes and rolled your foot.

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you so much.”

“Should we try standing?”

Wonwoo straightened back up, reaching out his hand for you to grab. Carefully, you intertwined your fingers with his, and then he accepted some of your weight as he gave you a supportive tug. At first, you wobbled, but Wonwoo was right there to steady you.

You complained about the dizziness, but after a few more steps it had gotten better, and Wonwoo let go of your hand.

“Oh—uh,” he gently grasped your elbow, “before you leave—”

Lifting up your arms, you watched rather cluelessly while Wonwoo pinched at the fabric of the very short, white skirt and tugged it further down your thighs, covering the sensitive areas where it had ridden up when you were stretched out against him. A hand latched into his shoulder for balance, and you sighed out gratefully.

“Fuck, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Please don’t tell me if you saw my underwear.”

He laughed, “I won’t.”

A manicured finger scratched your cheek.

“… They’re pink… with hearts.”

Wonwoo stayed quiet, but then he couldn’t fight his smile.

“… I know. Cute.”

You seemed flustered at the offhanded comment, which came as a surprise to Wonwoo, because he truthfully didn’t believe much—if anything at all—could fluster you. The phone in his back pocket buzzed with a text message and Wonwoo assumed it was Vernon asking him about where he’d gone. It was best to go back up to attic and reunite with your friends rather than dwell in the guest bedroom for an eternity. Though, Wonwoo didn’t want to leave at all.

“Uh, Wonwoo? Can you please wait one second?”

As you two paused at the door, his hand fell off the knob.

“Everything okay?”

Uncharacteristically, you fumbled with your fingers, tugging at the joints like they were disconnectable. He tilted his head at you, curious, and when your eyes locked with his he bit back a dumb facial expression at how wide your pupils had dilated, like an ocean abyss.

“Um, so, that girl Seokmin was talking about earlier? Sarah Gomez?” Sarah? He knew you meant Sierra, though he didn’t bother correcting the mistake. “I chatted to Vernon about it. He said she likes you and was flirting and... well, like, I-I have no issue if you… if you like her and want to do something, and—” you took in a really big, long breath that felt like a reach for self-comfort, “—just, if you two want to start hanging out, if you can still make time for our writing.”

Wonwoo stared at you for a second, blinking vacantly.

“… Oh, you think—no, Her. It’s not anything. It’s nothing."

“Nothing?”

“Yeah, nothing. I promise.”

And it was exactly that. Wonwoo would never—could never feel anything even half as strong as the yearning he felt for you. It was something unmeasurable, something bigger than the universe, and yet, it fit into the core of his own chest like a dense and heated star compacting in on itself. Despite being so numbed by heartbreak, and years of a growing apathy, and all that disappointment he harboured toward himself, Wonwoo had sensed each and every time you thawed him out. You—a light, and yet a cold, awakening breeze.

The girl he was in love with.

Stupidly and utterly in love with.

Your shoulders began to sink as you relaxed at his remark.

Wonwoo shook his head. “She’s nice. But I’ve talked to her once, and that was tonight, for like, two minutes at most.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry. I just—I didn’t want you to think that I hated it, or that I was going to jump her ‘cause of what happened upstairs… I don’t want to talk about what happened upstairs, actually, but that’s not what—anyway. Sorry. And, uh, thank you… for being there for me. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

“No, no. Nothing is ruined,” Wonwoo reassured you, picking up your hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’m having fun. It’s all a lot but… I’m enjoying it. I’m always going to be here for you, alright?”

You smiled at him. It was oddly shy, but Wonwoo loved it.

“So, if you want to head back up, I’ll join you soon enough," he said. "I’m gonna attempt to find a washroom in this place.”

“There’s one by the staircase. Clara and Bells used it.”

He kissed his teeth as you giggled at him.

“… Oh. Right.”

After you disappeared back upstairs to the attic, Wonwoo locked himself in the washroom for a moment of quiet. He checked his phone, realizing the time—3am—in addition to the horribly spelt text messages from Vernon, saying that Mingyu had taken Bells on a walk outside to calm her down. He sighed, signing off on the texts with a thumbs up. The night was only getting louder. Wonwoo didn’t know how much longer he could survive or who he would even call upon to get a ride home. Everyone was plastered or buzzed.

He had no desire to sleep here overnight, though if push came to shove, Seungcheol would likely have guest bedrooms to spare.

Turning on the sink faucet, Wonwoo set his glasses aside and cupped a handful of cold water against his face. It was a shock at first, yet it felt so refreshing, and Wonwoo couldn’t help but splash some more water until he felt the drops begin uncomfortably running down to his elbows and nudged the tap back off. Once patting dry his cheeks and forehead with a towel folded through a rung secured into the wall, Wonwoo proceeded to sit down on the tiled floor.

Readjusting the glasses back to his face, he stared across the dimly lit room at the half-opened shower curtain and its patterned seashells. For a second, he didn’t move at all. But then Wonwoo was getting up, walking over to the curtain and yanking it fully open. He returned to his initial position, sitting against the wall, and started counting all the different seashells. They weren’t organized in rows like the yellow rubber ducks from his aunt’s shower curtain back in Changwon—they were miscellaneously placed, spotted more than organized, and Wonwoo counted all the shells at least three times.

“Thirty-two,” he whispered to himself.

Deep within his pocket, Wonwoo’s phone buzzed again.

[ Vernon | 3:09 am ]: h ey glasses where tf are yoi?

He decided to text his friend back, though he knew Vernon was most likely off his face and wouldn’t notice for another hour.

[ Wonwoo | 3:09 am ]: Washroom. Be up in a few.

To his surprise, Vernon’s little typing bubble immediately appeared. Wonwoo developed a sick, squirmy feeling in his stomach for some reason, only to watch the bubble abruptly disappear and not return. God—he hoped the boy hadn’t fucking fallen out the window or slipped off the billiard table in his inebriation.

Setting his phone down on the tiles beside him, Wonwoo raked his fingers through his hair and sighed aloud again. He didn’t care much about messing up the very particular way he’d brushed and swooped it. Instead, Wonwoo thought about you.

He was just with you, and yet he missed you.

Unsure of when the feeling had ever started, Wonwoo began to recognize the ache for you  some time ago—and like a little kitchen light in a prairie house that never burnt out, seen across meadows and rivers, even through the darkest nights—Wonwoo had felt the ache ever since. He thought it would die away quietly. It hadn’t. It wouldn’t. He thought that love would never again step foot inside the house that was his heart. But it had. And it was the little light.

His phone vibrated.

Wonwoo glanced down at the illuminated screen, skimming over the jumbled, misspelt words to Vernon’s text with little regard, thinking nothing of it other than how sky high his friend was.

Another text. He scooped the phone up, grumbling to himself.

[ Vernon | 3:12 am ]: yo I dont mean t be weird buthahha I’m not gbnna lie u shud come upsrairds of u wanna see it

[ Vernon | 3:13 am ]: acyaully don’t lol

Wonwoo had not a fucking clue what Vernon was rambling about and was half-considering it to be all hallucinations. Maybe another fight had broken out. Maybe you were dancing on the table and had kicked over someone’s drink. There was a small cherry pit of curiosity in his stomach, though Wonwoo wasn’t ready to get up. He sat on the washroom floor for another ten minutes or so, deciding that he would go back upstairs, pitch his goodbyes, and book an Uber.

It had been fun, tiring, enlightening even.

But Wonwoo had no energy left to give.

After playing with his hair in the mirror and smoothing out the pieces he’d disheveled, Wonwoo at last pulled open the door and emerged back into the warm corridor, the music still soaring underneath his feet. He began making his way upstairs and back to the attic space. There were at least ten new people to fill the smoky room, none of whom Wonwoo recognized, though he assumed most were Seungcheol or Mingyu’s friends. Vernon was seated on the couch, his arm sunk around a girl’s shoulders—the girl that had almost bumped into him when leaving the kitchen hours ago.

Someone had cranked the music loud enough to rumble the speakers sitting on the desk. Wonwoo could hardly decipher a single word that came from Vernon’s mouth, forcing him to lean further down as he grasped onto his friend’s hand and announced his leave.

“Awe, you’re headin’ out?!” Vernon shouted into his ear.

“Have to,” Wonwoo replied, “my brain’s gonna pop.”

Vernon slapped his shoulder. "All good—hey, thanks for even comin’ along, y’know? Stay safe. Text me when you get home.”

“Yeah, will do. Uh, you seen Princess or Seungcheol?” He asked by Vernon’s head. “I’d be nice to see them before I leave.”

“No fuckin’ clue where they went, to be honest!” Vernon answered, leaning back with a shrug. “Oh! Fuck!” He’d suddenly latched onto Wonwoo’s arm. “Dude, you missed it. But if you’re lookin’ for Her—no luck. She’s uh, a little busy right now.”

“Hm?” Wonwoo mumbled. “I can’t fucking hear.”

Vernon proceeded to jerk his friend closer, breath fanning hot against Wonwoo’s ear. He turned frozen solid as he intently listened.

“Her—she came back upstairs, high as a fuckin’ kite. Mingyu came back up right after. I don’t know what happened, but, like, within a few minutes, they were on each other, man. I got scared—thought they were gonna start fuckin’ on the table. But, nah, Mingyu took her to the bedroom down the hall. We all scurried down and listened for a sec. Holy shit—she had to be gettin’ pounded—like, must’ve been face down ass up, fuckin’, gettin’ her guts rearranged or some shit. They were both so out of their minds. It was insane, y’know. You’re not gonna see her for a good while.” Vernon then sat back with a hopeless, husky laugh. “Mine as well shoot her a fuckin’ text and hope she can still read when Gyu’s done with her!”

For a second, Wonwoo didn’t believe him. Not at all. He thought it was a joke—staring at his friend, waiting for his face to break like sundried clay, not caring whatsoever that the girl tucked against his side was clearly annoyed at their conversation and waiting for Wonwoo to leave. It was all a stupid joke and Wonwoo wanted to hear Vernon say it. And then, he would punch him for it.

“Funny,” he chuckled.

But Vernon merely shrugged, folding an ankle over his knee. “Hey, Glasses. Dunno what to tell ‘ya! S’all true. I saw it. So Did Seungcheol n’ Princess. Go down there! Listen for yourself!”

Wonwoo shook his head, beginning to laugh. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Jeez! I’m just tellin’ you the truth!”

“And you expect me to believe that?” Wonwoo shouted overtop the bass, smiling, even though he was feeling more and more enraged under the surface. “You’re high as a kite, too, yeah?”

“I saw it, man!”

“Yeah. Actually—go fuck yourself. Night.”

Vernon stretched out a hand, attempting to catch Wonwoo by the elbow as he brushed past him, yelling something that was drowned to the humid, loud atmosphere. Wonwoo still believed it was a joke—a very awful, incredibly distasteful joke that he would probably ignore Vernon over for at least a few days. Wonwoo knew he wasn’t your boyfriend. He knew you most likely didn’t reciprocate the all the same feelings with as much passion as him. But you wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t discard him after he’d been so vulnerable.

He came to the corridor and gazed along the hallway.

Go down there. Listen for yourself.

Vernon’s words wriggled in a bold font to the forefront of his mind, even when he wanted to squeeze them out. But Wonwoo was exhausted, and now highly annoyed, and he knew the last thing he should do is excavate a truth that would be better off buried.

The thing was—Wonwoo had to know.

It was excruciating to not know.

And so, he walked up to each door, lightly attempting the handle or pressing his ear to the wood. He found nothing, and the relief that opened up and flowed throughout his body was equivalent to the freshest breath of air. Wonwoo was about to text Vernon that his stupid stunt had failed when he heard it—that suspicious, croaked sound which prompted his fingers to stop dead in their typing tracks.

He stared into the door, focusing hard.

No, it was the music. It had been playing all night, anyway.

But then there was a thump. Once, twice, three times.

Wonwoo shoved his ear back against the crack in the threshold, one hand coming to rest ever so softly on the brass handle.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

Muting even his breath in case it interfered with or somehow warped the noise, he listened longer, his stomach twisting in knots.

“Fuck! Mingyu!”

There was ice in his veins. All the blood froze so quickly. It was cold enough to turn his skin to frost but Wonwoo kept listening.

“If I fuck you any harder, I’ll break this fuckin’ bed, sweetheart. Is that what you want, huh? Tell me, baby. Are you that much of a slut for me? Hm? Are you that much of a whiny slut?”

“Y-Yes, Gyu! M’n-nothing—ff-fuck—!”

“Answer me or I’ll stop!”

“No—nonono—m’such a slut for you! Such a whiny l-little... Fuck! Mmm—c-can’t take it, Gyu! S’too much!”

“Move your fuckin’ hand! Take it, just like you asked for. If you’re gonna act like such a slut then fuckin’ take what I give you!”

Wonwoo couldn’t bear to hear a second longer. He knew it was your voice, your skin, your breath, your pleasure. It was entirely you at the rigid and exploitative hands of Mingyu. And Wonwoo felt sick. Something acidic surged up his throat in a stinging burn. With a hand latched over his mouth, Wonwoo raced toward the washroom, immediately locking himself inside before collapsing at the toilet and upheaving all the contents in his stomach. The nausea had never hit him so quickly before. His insides filled with even more dread.

But he wasn’t actually sick.

It was merely the horrible, haunting anxiety that came with opening up—its effects reaping toxically into his flesh because it had all been thrown back in his face like a sloppy high school lunch tray. It was hearing the girl he positively loved moan and writhe and beg for another man who didn’t care for her interests or thoughts or soul.

He’d cut himself open for you, but it didn’t seem to be enough.

—JUNE 16TH.

By the time Wonwoo woke up, it was five in the evening. His face was practically plastered—no, moulded, into the pillow—with a dried trace of drool streaked down his cheek. Wonwoo had never drooled before. The groan he released upon rolling from his stomach to his back was groggy and brittle, with his hand slapping cluelessly against the bedside table until he managed to grab hold of his black-framed glasses. He slid them on, and then wiggled further up the bed.

Before his irritable hunger, or the twisting of his full bladder, or the headache pulsing behind temples, Wonwoo felt a very gorged wound scissored into his heart. It was stinging raw, like sea salt from the ocean touching at an unbeknownst cut hidden somewhere sensitive on the body. Except, Wonwoo knew exactly where the cut was and how deep it ran and how much he was struggling to even breathe. He stumbled into the washroom, switched on the faucet, but Wonwoo couldn’t even bring himself to stare into the mirror.

Instead, he crouched down to his haunches, hands shakily gripping at the edges of the stone-cold porcelain for stability while the water gushed above him. With his eyes pinched shut, Wonwoo focused hard on every breath he took, so hard that white smudges began blossoming against the pitch blackness of his eyelids. His mouth suddenly jutted open, and he inhaled the biggest breath he could manage, but it cracked somewhere in the middle and Wonwoo knew he was going to start sobbing.

Unable to hold the sink any longer, Wonwoo let go of its sharp edges and curled up tight on the floor, the tears sprouting unbridled and glossing to stain over the rouge of his cheeks. In his mind, it was the most pitiful sight. He thought he would have learned his lesson the first time about opening up and trusting another, yet, somehow, he was back in the same fucking place. He thought he was being cautious. Not cautious enough. He thought he was taking his time. Not enough time. Wonwoo never judged anything right.

—JUNE 17TH.

[ Vernon | 8:08 am ]: hey glasses

[ Vernon | 8:08 am ]: haven’t heard from u since Friday

[ Vernon | 8:08 am ]: pls tell me u made it home alright

…

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 11:30 am ]: Hey Wonwoo! It’s Seungcheol (got ur number from Seokmin btw)

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 11:31 am ]: Really nice to meet you and glad you could make it out! Ur a super cool dude. Idk if you like pickup basketball but I always play on weekends at the uni B gym. If you ever want to come down or wtv let me know!

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 11:35 am ]: Princess says ur awesome

…

[ Seokmin | 12:57 pm ]: Hey Won

[ Seokmin | 12:57 pm ]: Make it home alright?

[ Seokmin | 12:57 pm ]: It was nice to see you!!

—JUNE 18TH.

[ Vernon | 10:01 am ]: Seokmin and I r going mini-putting at that glow in the dark place I got fired from lol u in or nah?

[ Vernon | 10:25 am ]: helloooooooo? u there beautiful?

…

[ Vernon | 3:45 pm ]: glasses are you fucking alive dude?

[ Seokmin | 3:50 pm ]: Everything okay? Did u get sick?

—JUNE 19TH.

[ Vernon | 7:13 am ]: okay haha it’s not funny anymore

[ Vernon | 7:13 am ]: wonwoo I swear if you don’t fucking text me back in the next 12 hours I’m breaking ur door down cuz wtf man im fuckin pissing my pants over here

…

[ Her | 9:00 am ]: hey!!

[ Her | 9:00 am ]: I hope you made it home okay :) sorry I didn’t text you.  I’ve been sick as a dog omg but I feel better today

[ Her | 9:02 am ]: I’m so glad u came even if it was a little tense or overwhelming at times lol. I loved seeing u there. don’t quite rmbr everything that happened but I’m sure it was fun

[ Her | 9:03 am ]: miss you a lot alrd

[ Her | 9:10 am ]: we still good to work on the book tmo?

Since he slept well into the afternoon, Wonwoo didn’t notice any of the morning texts until much later, when he finally sat down at the dining table to slowly nibble a piece of strawberry jam toast. It wasn’t that he was ignoring Vernon or Seokmin’s texts, more so the fact he had been trying to stay off his phone altogether. It was just too much and he couldn’t afford to worry about anyone else but himself, though, he supposed it might be time to answer poor Vernon.

Wonwoo had disregarded your texts—didn’t glance at them for longer than a millisecond or absorb one written word. At the moment, he didn’t know where he stood with you. Saturday had been brutal, Sunday was stupendously worse, on Monday he’d called in sick because the thought of stepping one foot outside his apartment made him ghostly ill, and Tuesday, today, he was quite mopey, lethargic, and hardly contained enough energy to even feed himself.

But he still took another bite from his toast.

It was better than completely and utterly rotting.

[ Wonwoo | 1:42 pm ]: Sorry.

[ Wonwoo | 1:42 pm ]: Wasn’t feeling the greatest.

[ Wonwoo | 1:42 pm ]: I promise I’m alive.

He set the phone down beside his plate, continuing to tear at small sections  of the toast to make it easier to eat. Wonwoo didn’t bother replying to anyone else. If they were truly that concerned as to why he hadn’t answered—which he knew they weren’t—then Vernon could disseminate whatever information he pleased.

Poking his glasses up with a pinky finger, Wonwoo saw his phone screen illuminate with a text from Vernon.

[ Vernon | 1:44 pm ]: jesus christ wonwoo

[ Vernon | 1:44 pm ]: don’t scare me like that I legit thought something happened to u

[ Vernon | 1:44 pm ]: man check ur fucking texts lol

Wonwoo pushed the dish aside and picked up his phone.

[ Wonwoo | 1:45 pm ]: My bad.

[ Vernon | 1:45 pm ]: it’s ok

[ Vernon | 1:45 pm]: soz u got sick

[ Vernon | 1:46 pm ]: u feel any better?

No—Wonwoo had almost audibly laughed. He felt pulverised, like a piece of trembling jelly hardly able to walk. If he was lucky, he might be able to keep the toast down without his grief getting in the way and tormenting the nutrients back out of him. But it wasn’t like his friend could do anything about it or make his nightmares end.

[ Wonwoo | 1:47 pm ]: Yeah, I’m okay now.

You were right—Wonwoo really was a liar.

[ Vernon | 1:47 pm ]: good!

[ Vernon | 1:48 pm ]: yeah got pretty sick myself tbh

[ Vernon | 1:48 pm ]: next day was ass

[ Vernon | 1:48 pm ]: well uh if theres anything u need lemme kno im gonna b out today I could prob stop by whenever

After thumbing up the message, Wonwoo grabbed his plate, walked over to the sink, and tossed it in, hearing it crash into the stainless-steel emptiness. He didn’t know what else he would do today. Probably nothing at all except lay in his bed and sleep.

[ Her | 7:00 pm ]: hey pls check ur messages <3

…

[ Her | 8:09 pm ]: hey can u fucking check ur msgs

…

[ Her | 10:15 pm ]: wonwoo this is embarrassing for me PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CHECK UR MESSAGES!!

Hearing his phone ding for the third time that night, Wonwoo at last rolled over to drag the device aglow from the bedside table. As he lazily fixed the glasses over his face to squint across the fine print, his stomach dropped faster than the incline on a roller coaster. You were getting blatantly impatient with his lack of response.

The thing was, he always answered you. Even if he was in the middle of working, or blazed from his head to his toes, or half-asleep and hardly conscious—Wonwoo would always make time to text you back because there was nothing more important in his life.

It wasn’t that he was void of all desire to talk to you—it was that his body physically couldn’t allow it. His fingers suddenly felt so stiff, like they were wooden, and his mind flashed blank with not a single word to spare. He was still devastated with you, and that was putting it fucking mildly. Breathing out all the conjured despair and pain through his nose, Wonwoo left the phone on his nightstand, rolling back over to his side in another attempt to sleep.

—JUNE 20TH.

[ Her | 8:02 am ]: wonwoo why aren’t you answering me?

[ Her | 8:02 am ]: I was going to get rly mad at u and send a long nagging text or a voicemail but I feel like somethings wrong

[ Her | 8:10 am ]: we’re supposed to write today :(

[ Her | 8:35 am ]: I’m starting to get worried ugh

—JUNE 21ST.

[ Her | 11:20 am ]: wonwoo can you please send me something so I know you’re okay? even just a thumbs up?

[ Her | 11:25 am ]: please

—JUNE 23RD.

[ Her | 9:30 pm ]: okay it’s basically been a week since the party and idk what to do. I’m so fucking pissed off at you bc why can’t you just answer me? Ik I’m not blocked which leads me to think you’re not pissed at me? otherwise u would block me

[ Her | 9:31 pm ]: you’re reading my texts ik u are

[ Her | 9:34 pm ]: just why are you doing this I don’t understand I feel like crying bc I don’t know what I did or why you’re ignoring me?? if I did something can you please tell me I just hate this fucking guessing game and I hate you for putting me thru it

[ Her | 9:35 pm ]: fuck you honestly

[ Her | 10:36 pm ]: but I still miss you so much

[ New voice mail from Her | 10:58 pm ]

—JUNE 26TH.

Wonwoo felt the phone continuously buzz in his pocket for the third time that afternoon—he was getting another call while at the pharmacy and at that point even his boss was beginning to take note. He hardly ever worked morning to afternoon shifts, but another staff member was sick and so Wonwoo was unfortunately hailed upon to take their place, though, he had realized it might be a good idea for him to experience the fresh, softer air against his face, which chiefly prompted him to accept. Even if he had thrown up his breakfast in the washroom just before his shift started, at least he’d tried to eat something—thawed out blueberry waffles with butter were still too much for his stomach. He should probably stick to toast.

As he stood behind the counter, marking down another bundle of vitamin bottles and their expiry dates from the clipboard, his boss was handing out prescriptions. Wonwoo was in the midst of a long, impossible-to-hide yawn when his phone started vibrating again, that stupid Sencha ringtone practically grating his ears.

“Wonwoo,” his boss said, “I think you better answer that.”

“No, it’s nothing. I’ll shut my phone off.”

Her reading glasses were poised at the tip of her nose as she typed some information into the computer, each click from the chunky keyboard notably slower than the last.

“Well,” she huffed, clearing her throat, “whoever it is, that was their fourth time calling you… I do believe that warrants some attention. Now, if you’re sure it’s nothing at all, then I’d rather you keep that phone in your locker, alright?”

He paused, staring down at the clipboard in his hands.

“… Can I take just five minutes?”

Glancing over the shoulder of her pristine white lab coat, his boss nodded, and Wonwoo left the clipboard sitting alongside the vitamin bottles. He slipped into the employee break room and out the heavy backdoor, stepping behind the building for the utmost privacy.

Wriggling out the phone from his pants pocket, Wonwoo stared at the four separate notifications, all spread out within the past hour. Vernon had been attempting to reach Wonwoo for whatever reason, though he didn’t know what could possibly be so goddamn pressing that a text message wouldn’t suffice. He didn’t want to find out, either. But Wonwoo had already excused himself, and he didn’t want to waste the precious five minutes he’d been anointed.

He dialed his friend back. The call was picked up instantly.

“Vernon, what the f—”

“Glasses! It’s about fuckin’ time you answered your stupid phone! Where the hell are you, anyway? Mars?!” His voice boomed through the staticky line like a boxer’s jab and Wonwoo immediately moved the device from his ear, taking a second to orient himself.

“I’m at work, dumbass. Use your fucking head.”

“Work?! Oh, give me a break. Work! That’s your excuse?!”

Letting his temple prop against the uncomfortable brick wall, Wonwoo rubbed at his nose, his eyes squeezing out the sunlight.

“Just tell me why you’re blowing up my phone…”

“How about ‘cause I almost got mugged! That’s why!”

“Wha—mugged? Vernon, what? By who?”

“Your girlfriend, that’s fuckin’ who!”

Wonwoo pushed off the wall using his shoulder, taking a few steps across the cigarette butt-littered walkway. He absolutely hated it beyond comprehension whenever Vernon referred to you as his girlfriend—even more so now—though he was plagued by the thickest confusion and he needed Vernon to calm down in order to explain everything succinctly.

Taking a thorough breath, he stopped pacing.

“Okay, chill out, for just a second. And then talk to me. Because I don’t have a clue what you’re yelling about. I told my boss I’d be five minutes and I’m wasting out the clock.”

“Fuck—okay. So, I was gettin’ gas, alright? Mindin’ my own business when I see Her come outside the store. I thought, oh, hey, I know we’re probably not on the greatest terms yet but I’ll say hi.” He heard the boy cut himself off, and then laugh a bit, as though he were still reeling from the incident. “Dude, the second she sees me, I think I’m gonna die. She practically corners me at my Camry, like, askin’ me all this stuff: what happened to Wonwoo? Where’s Wonwoo? Do you know what’s goin’ on? Why isn’t he talkin’ to me?”

At that point, Wonwoo had squatted down in the middle of the walkway, rubbing a hand dreadfully against his cheek. He didn’t have a cigarette on him, but if he did, he’d be smoking it down to the pathetic nub. Vernon coughed and then started up his story again.

“I try to tell the chick—hey, I’ve got no fuckin’ clue! He told me he wasn’t feelin’ well, we haven’t spoken much—like, fuck if I know all the details to your goddamn life! She doesn’t believe I’m givin’ the full truth. I tell her again: look, he’s real private, he doesn’t talk about much. If he is goin’ through somethin’, just give him space and time—blah, blah. She tells me I’m a bad friend! Like—what the fuck, first of all! A bad friend?! She’s—okay, anyway—"

Wonwoo began to pull at some green sprigs of grass pushing up from between cracks in the cement, just to give his nervous, trembly fingers something to do. His heartbeat was climbing higher in his throat.

“She thinks you hate her, o-or I don’t know what she fuckin’ thinks, actually. What I do know is that she hates me ten times more than she did before, n’ that you need to get off your fuckin’ ass and talk to her! Do y’know scary it is to have Her yellin’ at you?! I thought she was gonna light my hair on fire with the gas pump or some shit! Fuck. My heart’s like, still racin’. And not to terrify you but she might stop by your place later today—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he interrupted Vernon while shooting back to his feet, beginning to anxiously pace all over again, “you think she’ll stop by my apartment? No, that can’t—” Wonwoo stumbled on a rock, then reared his foot to punt it hard across the cement, “I-I don’t want to talk to her. I fucking can’t. It’s too much.”

“I don’t know what to do about that…” Vernon sighed, followed by the distinctive spark of a lighter crackling in the background. “Didn’t even know you were ignorin’ her… what happened, anyway? I mean, this shit seems real serious.”

The silence was so thinned but still unbearably long, and as Wonwoo listened to his friend ignite a blunt in order to mellow out, he felt that unmistakable pain twist at the pliable centre of his chest, like he was being carved into with a whittling tool.

Put simply, Wonwoo wasn’t ready to see you, let alone have a civil conversation that could be separate from his bitter, hurt emotion. There was too much he needed to decide alone, and as the hot, stinging summer air around him became concerningly harder to breathe, Wonwoo had no other choice but to hang up on his friend and burst back into the employee washroom. Eventually, his boss had stopped by to knock on the door, to which Wonwoo answered with the most reluctant, pained, hoarse voice he could muster.

“S-Sorry—be out soon…”

“… I’ll give you a few more minutes,” she answered after a momentary pause, most likely realizing something was very wrong.

 But he couldn’t hide it any better than that.

Wonwoo stepped inside the pottery shop, the bells overhead tinkling, and the attention of his landlord now piqued as she glanced up from the earth-coloured vase being washed by her paintbrush.

“Back from work?” She asked.

“Yeah…” he sighed, making his way toward the staircase, already reaching for the handrail, “can hardly stand. I’m exhausted.”

Sweeping some dried pieces of clay off her messy, weathered apron, she lent Wonwoo a sympathetic smile. “Well, rest up.”

He nodded at her.

Coming up to his apartment, Wonwoo was inexplicably relieved he hadn’t run into you at any point. He clicked his lock shut with another sigh, a more distant one that arose from somewhere so dusty and cold inside his chest. Maybe Vernon was right, Wonwoo thought while kicking off his shoes. Maybe it would be best to get such an excruciating, uncomfortable conversation out of the way rather than ruminate over how awful it was bound to be.

He scrubbed his hands clean at the sink, then trudged into his bedroom to change from his pharmacy appropriate clothes.

But as he came to sit at the edge of his bed, thinking back to that night—all the touches and tender glances and how foolishly he presumed it would be okay to open those clandestine, personal pages he always struggled to share—Wonwoo knew it was still too premature. If he were to speak with you now, nothing productive or relatively good would come from it. He leaned forward into his hands and raked them distraughtly through his hair, tugging against the black fronds until he worried about legitimately pulling them out.

You were obviously concerned and worried—he knew that, and part of him ached because it was due to his own ignorance.

It just couldn’t happen yet.

Wonwoo was mad at you. He felt betrayed, disrespected, used. There was sadness, heavier than his body weight. So much emotion was blistering and alive inside of him with nowhere to go.

Collapsing backward, arms tossed beside his head, Wonwoo closed his eyes and hoped he might fall asleep deep enough in order to never wake up. That way, he would never have to face reality—he would never have to stand in front of you and cough up some half-baked explanation that only served to protect himself.

Through the haze and mist of his bizarre dreams that whipped by akin to reels from old age movies, Wonwoo saw someone he didn’t think would ever reappear in his subconscious again—Jeanie.

He had no idea where he was, or what those disembodied figures were that shifted in the blurred distance. She was the only detail he could pinpoint. Wonwoo walked toward her, pushing through something invisible but notably thick, like molasses. He tried inconceivably hard to absorb the intricacies of her face, but when he stared for too long, her features would start moving, almost melting off her as though she was a wax figure in a sweltering auditorium.

Yet, he could hear something.

There were voices becoming louder in his ears, and the more intently he listened for them, the clearer Jeanie’s face became.

The girl’s hair was chin length, dark. Dark like timbre. Or very fine-grated flint. It looked soft to one’s touch, if, in fact, one could possibly touch her without her shattering. I remember thinking that. The girl will shatter if I bump her, even if it’s an accidental thing—a gentle scraping sort of contact that wouldn’t even disrupt a feather.

I remember her eyes, too. My brother owned a box of marbles when he was twelve years old. When I looked into the girl’s eyes, it was like I was eight again, staring over the discarded sewing tin that held my brother’s smooth, large, galactic marbles he told me to never play with. I hated him for it. I think a part of me still does. But I don’t feel that resentment when I look into her eyes. Rather I feel the mystery and curiosity I believed was permanently erased alongside my youth.

Then there were her lips, which were small but plump. They seemed almost stained. I thought an artist took a stroke of watery, blood red paint to her mouth. It’s even hard to hear her when she speaks. I have to lean in so closely that my chest shrinks in on itself with coyness. I love it too much but I can’t let the beautiful, quiet girl know.

Wonwoo knew every word—he could recite them endlessly, without a sweat or a hiccup. It was his own writing after all, from the book he’d attempted to write for her during their relationship. Finally, he could see Jeanie standing in front of him, at the edge of clarity. Close enough to embrace and kiss and beg so pathetically for forgiveness.

But Wonwoo was never given the chance.

The voices scattered in a mere instant, whisking away into the baby blue nothingness that engulfed him like a handful of sand grains on a windy beach. Instead, he heard knocking. It rattled his brain.

Knock, knock, knock, knock!

The atmosphere started to crumble. He was caught in that peculiar stretch of being half-asleep and half-awake, when it’s impossible to decipher reality from the reverie that doesn’t quite want to let go just yet. Everything shuddered and swayed like a house on stilts.

“Wonwoo! Open the fucking door! For fuck’s sake!”

And then, he was shooting up in bed, fast enough to prompt the dizziness that whorled the entire room into a confusing mélange of shapes and evening clementine colours. His heart was barraging against his chest, and Wonwoo had to settle a hand overtop the pulse to confirm with himself that the organ was still inside his body. As he wiped off the sweat that glistened by his temples, trying to mentally grasp the fading fragments from his dream, Wonwoo heard the knocking sound again. Louder. As though his door would cave in.

He knew it was you. You weren’t going to leave, either, not unless someone had to drag you out the building by the ankles, or until you spoke to Wonwoo about his impromptu ghosting.

The thing was, Wonwoo was fucking pissed.

He was pissed that such a bittersweet dream had been ripped away from him like everything else in his life—most often love and trust—and he was pissed that he never got any closure.

Wonwoo was just boiling over, tired of everything.

Knockknockknock!

Stumbling into the living room, Wonwoo approached the door that was currently receiving the abuse of a lifetime. His hand grazed the knob, though it was nothing akin to the first time he’d let you inside his apartment, so nervous, flustered, doubting himself. When he opened the door, Wonwoo opened it with an unwavering abruptness that presented you at the threshold, your closed fist left still in the air like you were a marionette frozen by your orchestrator.

With your mouth agape and soundless, Wonwoo wondered if you would even speak. The shock was slowly spreading throughout your face, adorned as usual with that picture perfect makeup.

But he’d assumed too quickly.

“Jesus fucking Christ! So, you are alive!”

He stepped aside while you stormed into the apartment, and then he let the door swing shut, capturing the two of you in privacy.

You spun around to glare Wonwoo down.

“What the actual fuck is your problem?! Did you forget how to read?! Write?! Answer your fucking phone?! I mean, would it kill you, Wonwoo, to text me back? Even just one word? Or, is that too fucking difficult?! It’s not like I’m asking for a goddamn scripture!”

Since March, Wonwoo had known you. It was nearly July.

Never had he seen you like this before. Sure, there were times you had gotten angry and that short fuse inside would burst. It was always jarring, but you tended to regain composure within the next minute or so, shaking off the confining chrysalis of your rage.

This didn’t seem so easy to shake off.

You were furious. Wonwoo watched you begin to pace the living room, your hands gesturing about wildly. There was practically a radiation that glowed from around you, red like singed charcoals.

“I can’t believe the rollercoaster you have put me through this past week, you asshole! I mean, seriously! I've never been this baffled! At first, I just assumed you were sick! Because—who wasn’t sick after that night? But we had to write the next day, and you always get back to me, so when you didn’t, my stomach started twisting up! I thought, something has to be wrong—Wonwoo doesn’t do this! He never stands me up! But I didn’t want to pry, because you fucking hate when I pry, so I left it alone! I left it and then I still get nothing!”

A Rubik’s cube was sitting on the coffee table. For some reason, you snatched it up and started jamming at the panels while continuing to pace the living room. Your hands were fizzling firecrackers, surging with ample energy, needing a task to direct all that accumulated anger so the fingers wouldn’t fly off your joints.

“But I see Vernon getting gas! And, wow, everything is just so peachy for him! Life is so sweet and sugary for the local drug dealer who just milked hundreds of dollars out of some stupid rich kids and their latent drug addictions! And you know what I had to do? I had to back him up like a feral fucking cat just to wrangle some information about you! Because I thought maybe you were dead, or kidnapped, or you just suddenly hate me! I looked like such a psychopath!” 

You slammed the unsolved Rubik’s cube back onto the coffee table hard enough to dislodge a few pieces. They spotted his carpet like blood spatters. A tattered, deep breath was sucked up your nose.

“So, here I fucking am, screaming my head off because I am so pissed at you, Wonwoo! I want an answer even if it kills me!”

The air was dead silent, and Wonwoo wanted to let the room breathe for just a minute at most. Every single word you had spewed was compressed into the spaces of his apartment and if he didn’t give the atmosphere enough time to settle then his walls would undoubtedly burst. You refused to stare anywhere else but him. There was so much need and pain and agony behind those glassy eyes.

Wonwoo glanced down at his socked feet, swallowed hard, and then back at you. He had to speak. Nothing else would suffice.

“… Honestly… there’s no answer I can give you that won’t hurt, or make you any less upset… I don’t want to drag this out, either.” A subtle breath entered his mouth. “Her, we shouldn’t do this anymore—the book. I don’t want to help. You can finish it yourself.”

It was sharp, so meticulously sharp—a clean, smooth cut.

Though he was calm water on the outside, he felt a trembling behind his ribs. His heart was groveling with him to not be so cruel.

You laughed, titled your head. “What?”

“I can’t continue to help you write.”

Again, the room was silent.

“… You… you’re… you what?”

Something wasn’t connecting inside your brain. For some reason, you could not comprehend what Wonwoo was insisting. His patience was translucent and the longer he stood across from you in the living room, thinking about his interrupted dream and the vulnerability you stepped all over and the time he wasted—he could only get angrier. His fingernail scraped over his thumb like a tooth.

You wiped something off your face and started to laugh again.

“God—okay. There’s—I’m sorry but there’s absolutely no way you just said that to me… I come here, sick to my fucking stomach, worried about you. Yes, I’m mad but—I-I still care. And you—you’re going to—fuck.” A hand then clasped over your mouth as you pointed your gaze to the shag carpet, and for a moment, Wonwoo couldn’t decide if you were masking a laugh or a sob. “You’re going to tell me that we should just… stop, in your words. Or, you’ll stop, and I can keep trudging on. Am I hearing that right? Is that what you said?”

Wonwoo nodded.

He hadn’t realized it, but he’d just detonated a bomb.

At first, there was not a single crease or wrinkle that ruptured your disturbingly placid face. But, surely enough, he was beginning to observe the slow, inevitable fracturing that started with a twitch in your upper lip, and then a wicked furrow pulling down your brow, and that irritable blinking of your eyes as though someone had just blown a cloud of dust into them. Wonwoo knew it was coming.

“Fuck you.”

It was so spiteful, almost demonic.

“You should go,” Wonwoo said, sighing.

Instead, your head rung back and forth.

“No, actually—” you stepped toward him, fingers pinching at the thick, almost palpable air while your eyes fumed with every malevolent thought that burned inside you, “—fuck you, Wonwoo.”

He stared back at you, somehow unfaltering.

“Listen, if you don’t—”

“If I don’t what?!” You screamed, your palms slamming against his chest and prompting him to stumble backward. “If I don’t leave, then fucking what?!” Even though it was just you shouting, it sounded like there were hundreds of anguished women behind each word.

Wonwoo felt the pin drop into his gut.

“Y’know what I think, Wonwoo?! I think this is just like that time at SRX, when you told me the same fucking thing! You just picked up all your shit and left! No explanation, no prelude, no nothing! Is that what gets you off? Huh? Treating everyone like they’re pieces of scrap metal with no fucking emotion?! You can just do whatever you want! Doesn’t matter! Who gives a fuck about whose feelings I’m totally disregarding, whose time I’m wasting. I’m Wonwoo! I get to pull the plug on everybody because who cares!”

Your voice had employed a fake, mocking tone.

And while Wonwoo knew the better choice was to maintain his quiet, mature composure, it was much easier to disregard the guise altogether—chuck it straight out the window like a browned banana peel because as much as he’d like to believe he was refined, evolved, and in control, Wonwoo hadn’t ever been anything of the sort.

He shook his head at you.

“I disregard people’s feelings? People’s time? Me?”

“Yes, you!”

“That is such bullshit.”

“Oh, come the fuck on, Wonwoo! Don’t be so damn deluded!”

“Do you even hear yourself? A single word that you’re fucking saying? I disregard people’s feelings? Well, what about you, then? You—and, sorry if this puts a nick in the perfect, angelic image you have of yourself—but you just use people. And I don’t want to be used anymore. There’s my fucking answer that you want so badly.”

You gagged at him, slack-mouthed down to the floor.

“I use people? Wonwoo, are you fucking insane?!”

“No more than you.”

“How?! Tell me how I’ve used you!”

He laughed at the demand, rubbing a hand across his scalp. “Oh, come on—don’t make me spell it out for you, Her.”

“No, please do! Please spell out in that scholar-kissed, prestigious vocabulary of yours how I’ve used you!”

Wonwoo paced over to the fireplace mantel, this light-headed, tingly sensation beginning to merge with his blood and flow to every crack and crevice of his body. He couldn’t believe this was happening, but now that you two were shredding into each other, Wonwoo saw no point in sugar coating a damn thing. If you wanted the truth, then he would give you exactly that—it mattered no less to him.

“The book. How is that not obvious? I mean, for the last few months, that’s all I’ve done. Is help you. You didn’t even care about who I was before. You just wanted someone who could make your life easier and bend to all your whims at the drop of a hat. I’m the one who has to put up with your obsessions and gripes and your crazy fucking mood swings—I mean, do you even know how draining that shit is? You don’t, because you care about you. You care about writing this masterpiece for Mingyu—who, I should mention—doesn’t give a fuck about you. But you know that, right? You’re a smart girl, aren’t you?

You know it when he treats you like a dumb object, belittles you in front of your friends, puts down and shows no support in your interests—like, really, Her? That’s who you’re in love with? That’s the man you want to spend the rest of your life with? Or do you just like him for his status? Is it because he pays for your coke and your clothes and your entire fucking life? And what about Seokmin? Your little puppy dog. Always so eager to do whatever you ask of him. He just does all the shit that’s not worth your breath. So, instead of wasting your time, you waste his instead.

Bells and Clara? Why the fuck do you even keep them around? You treat them like they're insufferable. But you know they make you look better—so much smarter, more organized, goal-driven—they’re just the two annoying drunk girls that tag along because as much as you despise them you just can’t deny how good they make you look. But that’s what you do! You use everyone around you and no one ever says a fucking thing because you’re such a tyrant!”

Wonwoo was fully cognizant of how sadistic it all was—that’s what he intended. If every word was not going to lacerate or bite or sink so painfully deep into your tissue that it felt like a bony dagger, then there was no point in saying anything at all. You were across from him, vibrating like an excited atom, your fists clenched while every possible hue of rage spilt down the length of your hollow face.

Simple enough—you’d asked him to spell it out, and that’s what he’d done. If could make it any clearer, he would. You then gulped, and there sounded a quiver to your voice that Wonwoo had never heard before. He stood tensely, awaiting your response.

“H-Hm, so… that’s what you think of me?” The end of your question sharply pitched off. “That’s your conclusion?”

“It is,” Wonwoo answered, pressing up his glasses.

Rolling your shoulders and clearing your throat, you nodded, meanwhile you stared down at your hands which began to slowly unfurl. Wonwoo realized that your fingers were trembling like dry, autumn leaves in a soaring wind. He’d never seen that before, ever.

“So, actually, what I think—” you coughed, placing an elbow overtop your mouth to catch the spit, “—I think that…”

For a moment, Wonwoo thought it was over. Your voice was so quiet, hushed, with hardly an ounce of tenacity or grit. But he should have known better than to suspect you of being so spineless.

“What I think, Wonwoo, is that you love to write, and read, because the only person you can communicate with is yourself. You… you are so emotionally stunted that it should be fucking studied. That was the most I’ve ever heard you speak, and you used all of it to basically call me fake, manipulative, and shallow.”

“Because you asked.”

“God. You are so empty, Wonwoo. You’re just a shell. You would rather exist inside your literary delusions than reality because there is nothing for you here. No real relationships, no real aspirations, nothing. And you know why that happened? You can’t fucking talk about anything. Instead, you just hold it all inside—you hold it and hold it until it starts seeping out and poisoning everyone around you. It’s your own fucking fault, Wonwoo. You're gonna drive everyone away. And then have the audacity to somehow point the finger, like they’re the one with the fucking problem. But it’s you.”  

He could almost hear the clatter of the metal against the hardwood as you dragged out the metaphorical dagger. There was even a physical pain throbbing at his lower back, though, Wonwoo quickly began to accept the pain was aflame everywhere on his body.

Your lips were pressed together in a strict, firm line. If you opted to speak just one word more, then maybe the dam would break, and his apartment would transform into a sodden, soaked mess.

He watched your head begin to shake, and then you were swallowing down a gigantic, stinging lump. Of course, even at your most barren, emotionally exhausted self, you would get the last word.

“So you can go fuck yourself.”

And Wonwoo was willing to let you have it.

He closed his door at the sound of your wrenched sob in the corridor. There wasn’t much else for him to do other than click the lock shut, pick up the broken pieces from his Rubik’s cube, and walk back into his bedroom. Wonwoo whipped the curtains shut, crawled underneath the cold, thin covers that he stretched over his head.

In the isolating darkness, he slept.

Alone again.

—JULY 21ST.

It was some time in the evening.

A soft, nearly unsettling quietness engulfed the train station.

There was nothing even relatively stimulating that Wonwoo could do apart from aimless surfing through his phone, sparing the occasional glance toward the directory desk with its few uniformed clerks. A navy-blue suitcase was at his side, stuffed full of folded clothes and charging cables. As organized earlier in the year, Wonwoo had spent the week at his uncle’s house—even his older brother managed to stop by for a few days to celebrate Wonwoo’s birthday.

For the most part, Wonwoo enjoyed his time there. The house was more like a cottage, situated on a fresh, small lake shaded over by the summer canopies of sycamore and evergreen trees. While he didn’t dabble in any swimming, Wonwoo had liked stretching out on the webbed hammock down by the firepit, rocking himself back and forth using a long leg that he kept strewn over the edge.

He missed that peaceful feeling engendered by the lakeside wind and the rustling leaves—how rejuvenating it all was to escape the monotonous hell that was his life back in the grey, stiff city.

Wonwoo clicked on his phone to check the time.

5:50 pm.

He would need to board his train soon.

Unfortunately, whether he liked it or not, Wonwoo had to go back and he had to pick up where he’d so painfully left off. No more pieces of refrigerated chocolate cake straight from the box or sitting outside on the maplewood patio to jingle a fake mouse at the paws of his uncle’s cat. No more packed joints beside the ebbing shoreline at midnight, or waking up to the most ethereal, golden light warming through the curtains as though the skies were made with honey.

Wonwoo sighed, plugging in the earbuds left dangling at his shirt collar. He scrolled through his music looking for a song to play.

Above all, it had nearly been a month since he last spoke to you.

Spoke wasn’t even the right word. That day, Wonwoo had set out to ruin you, because he could not bring himself to steep in all that misery and vitriol alone, bearing its weight like he was made from pressurized diamond when in truth—he was flaky and feeble.

The weeks that passed afterword were all blurred together. He talked to no one. Seldom saw anybody. Wonwoo had hardly existed.

A voicemail was still sitting in his inbox. You had sent it to him during a late night in June after the crazed party at Seungcheol’s family mansion, though Wonwoo never bothered listening to it because it was one of his biggest weaknesses—your voice—the most beautiful sound in the world as you had once phrased to him back at the café Wonwoo used to frequent. Then, he’d laughed it off, believing you were beyond full of yourself. Gradually, however, it became truth.

To hear you talk was to feel so in love that it physically ached.

“Train to Lees Station will be arriving within the next five minutes. Please make your way to platform C for boarding.”

The announcement finished with a ding.

Wonwoo got to his feet and grabbed the suitcase handle, beginning to pull it behind him while following the small, silent crowd toward the elevator. It was finally time to go home. Although home didn't seem like much to him anymore, if not just an aimless place in a bleak city that had lost all its warmth.

10:48 pm.

Wonwoo couldn’t sleep, or even take a nap.

When he would rest his head against the window, his eyes could only stay shut for no longer than a measly, frustrating minute. He’d completely exhausted his playlists. By midnight, the train would stop at his station, anyway. There was nothing left for him to listen to… except that voicemail. It was an awful fucking idea, but Wonwoo hadn’t been able to shake the temptation since it first crept into his memory all those hours ago.

Wonwoo didn’t want to think about you—not until he’d stepped off that goddamn train and had fully left all remnants of his short summer vacation behind. When he was back amongst the ignorant city people, and those towering glass infrastructures, and the constant honking, beeping, and roaring of motorized vehicles, would he even probe the thought. But—then again—so much time had passed. So much time to regret, anguish, and loathe his actions.

“… So, um—I-I just want to say first and foremost how much you suck for doing this to me, actually. You… god—fuck, if I have to blow my nose one more time… you suck, Wonwoo! You just—you fucking suck so much! You and your stupid privacy! I-I’m not trying to invade your life o-or get—or pry into something I shouldn’t be—I just want an answer, I want clarity, I want you to—I want—I need you to be a fucking person and just talk to me so I don’t hate myself! Because right now I feel like this is all my fucking fault!

… And it sucks because I don’t even know who I can talk to about this. I want to talk to you. But I can’t a-and… oh my god… we were supposed to write a couple days ago. At the park. I knew you weren’t going to show up but I went there anyway. I tried so hard to put down a sentence. But I hated all of it. I looked back at everything I’d written so far and I wanted to erase every single fucking word and blame you for it… f-fuck… I’m running out of stupid fucking tissues… oh… where’s the extra box?... I’m such a wreck.

… And, um, oh my gosh. Yesterday, at the mall, I went shopping, and I saw this really cute shirt. It was so pretty. Um… dammit! Sorry, I just hit my elbow… that hurt, Jesus Christ… uh—right, so, I saw this shirt and it was so cute with little buttons on it. It was white and blue. A little bit of frills. I know you don’t like frills but I promise it was just the right amount. A-And I have the perfect skirt to go with it. So, um, I put it on, and it fit really nice. I took a picture in the fitting room and I wanted to send it to you but you’re not talking to me right now. But, uh, I did buy it.

I was wearing it today. But then, like, the worst th-thing ever happened… um, it ripped. I ripped it. I don’t even know how, I was just going through my closet and it caught on a broken hanger or something and then all I heard was a b-big rip… it’s totally ruined now. I don’t know but I burst into tears. I was crying so hard and you were the first person I wanted to call but you’re not talking to me, a-and—fuck, I don’t know what I’m saying anymore… I just—I’m mad at you, I’m so fucking mad but I still care and—please, I miss you. I really, really miss you, Wonwoo. It hurts inside.

I’m sorry this is so long… I think m’gonna stop talking because my sinuses are closing up and my throat is burning. Um, I’ll go n-now. Just—fuck you. Please text me or call be back. Please.”

The message blipped off.

For a moment, he was frozen solid, staring back at his reflection through the dark window at his shoulder. I’m so fucking mad but I still care. Then, in an instant, Wonwoo had wished he never listened to the voicemail. He tore out his earbuds and bundled them up, shoving them into his pocket alongside his phone.

He was on the precipice of a horrifying change, but he didn’t know exactly what—just that he was looking at something so smooth and grey and warmed up from the blistered sun.

He was looking at the rock.

—JULY 22ND.

By the time Wonwoo had returned to his apartment last night, he was dead tired—a zombie, practically—scuffing his feet against the wooden flooring with his suitcase rolling behind. Face-planting upon the bed that hadn’t felt the dip from his body weight in a week, he thought he would rest his drooping eyes and give himself a moment to settle. Except it wasn’t just a moment, it was hours and hours of sleep that felt like a single second. When he woke up, his arm was completely numbed from being tucked under his cheek.

It had actually scared him. Wonwoo immediately shot up, staring down at the lifeless limb which he couldn’t move an inch.

“Fuck…” he mumbled to himself hoarsely, squinting against the sunlight which blinded the bedroom. “How long was I out…”

Digging the latter hand into his pants pocket, he let the blood slowly tingle back into his other arm while checking the time on his phone. However, the device was dead. For all he knew, it was the year three-thousand and there would be flying cars and Blade Runner infomercials gleaming in the city smog. Once he was able to move his arm, Wonwoo slid off the bed and laid down his suitcase, beginning to zip open the compartment.

His charger was packed perfectly on top.

Letting his phone recharge on the bedside table, he returned to unpacking. His laptop, toothbrush, books, socks, pairs of underwear and oversized shirts—he stored everything back in its appropriate place, tossing the occasional article into his laundry hamper, until the suitcase was nearly emptied. The only item which remained inside was a small plastic bottle, translucent orange, baring a white prescription label with a few pills remaining side.

His venlafaxine.

Wonwoo had started taking the medication again, roughly a week after his fight with you. Upon completely losing his ability to sleep or eat or survive an entire day without crippling in on himself like the world was a sinkhole waiting for him to slip, Wonwoo came to the realization that—what the fuck—he didn’t have to plainly suffer, and that all the time he spent ignoring the drug because he couldn’t even value his life enough to swallow one tiny pill was a useless, cruel disregard for the body that tried so fucking hard to protect him.

Even when it didn’t feel like it.

By the time Wonwoo ate breakfast—a simple piece of toast with peanut butter—his phone was halfway charged.

1:01 pm.

He’d slept for thirteen hours straight.

“Get over it, Wonwoo. Don’t overreact... c’mon, c’mon, don’t give me that sad little face… it was funny!”

“Leave me alone.”

“No.”

“Leave me alone, please.”

“No.”

“Bohyuk! Stop!”

“Stop what?!”

“You’re poking me! Bastard…”

“Oh, you just said a curse word. Mom is gonna be so mad. Kids your age aren’t supposed to start swearing yet.”

“Tell her. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Well, what if she takes away your books? I bet you’ll get upset then, won’t you? Or those weird little playing cards you have. What if she’s so mad, she burns them! You’ll cry yourself to sleep like a little baby.”

“I said stop touching me!”

“Or what? What? Nothing to say?”

“No.”

“Figures.”

“… I told you I want to be alone.”

“I know you do. And I let you sit here sulking. But now I’m just trying to get you to talk instead of mope. When you’re in a bad mood, it puts mom in a bad mood, and then I have to suffer with both of you being all brooding and cranky. Talking is an important skill, you know? Especially when you’re all pissed off. ”

“Mom is always cranky.”

“And you double it.”

“Shut up.”

“I really don’t understand why I’m the piece of shit, here. We always play Lifeguard at the water park. Now you want to throw a tantrum because, what? It was funny!”

“You left me there, Bohyuk! Alone!”

“Okay, so what? Did you die, Wonwoo? Did you get banned from the park? Did you ruin your entire life?”

“No…”

“Exactly. It was uncomfortable, and you didn’t like the situation. I get that. But you put yourself in that position, alright? Stupid shit always happens when we play that game. You know the consequences. We’ve been over this before. Remember when you threw that life preserver on my head and almost gave me a concussion? I was pissed at you. But you’re a kid, and you weren’t really thinking, and I should’ve known. That’s why I didn’t curse you out. Let’s say we both learned a lesson from this and call it a day, huh? C'mon, the bucket is filling up. Let's catch it before we leave.”

—JULY 28th.

Wonwoo was sitting in a wicker-back chair downstairs in the pottery shop, his laptop placed on the corner of a table that had been covered with a white, plasticky sheet. The white was hardly visible through all the smears and stains attributed to month-old dried paint and clay. His landlord had asked him if he would oblige to waiting for the mugs her last class had just sculpted to finish drying in the kiln while she ran to the bank. An egg timer was placed on the desk in her office, and Wonwoo could hear it ticking away in the background.

The door to the shop had been propped open using a mandala decorated rock, and while Wonwoo browsed along an online book on his laptop, he partly listened to the miscellaneous bits and pieces of conversation pushed indoors by the midday summer wind.

Initially, he’d dreaded coming back to the city after the week-long repose at his uncle’s, but in truth, Wonwoo was adjusting better than anticipated. Maybe because he was attempting to look after himself more than usual—he was actually taking his medication and he’d weened himself from frequent, almost daily smoking to once every few days, though Wonwoo did realize his bud was getting low and the only person he knew to inquire for more was Vernon. He hadn’t seen his friend in person since the party, and their texting had admittedly dwindled ever since Wonwoo fought with you.

That was just over a month ago now.

Wonwoo had gone an entire month without texting you, talking to you, seeing you. He was doing better, feeling lighter.

But there remained one core part of him that was still very incomplete and damaged. Suddenly, Wonwoo was shivering in his seat. The warm sun was brightening up the shop and reflecting its light off the stained glass windchimes dangling from the ceiling, though he chose to blame the chill on the breeze trickling indoors.  

Deep down, however, Wonwoo knew he’d done something wrong. So, very, very wrong. He’d hurt you like a bullet through bone.

“Okay, this is it, right?”

“Yeah.”

Wonwoo glanced up from his laptop, where he’d been staring into the screen with a glazed over and distant expression. Instead, he saw a young woman, about his age, walk into the pottery shop hand-in-hand with a little girl who couldn’t have been older than twelve. For a moment, Wonwoo didn’t recognize the woman’s features—chin length, wavy hair, coarse and russet brown, tanned skin and a face polka dotted with freckles. Piece by piece, the memory rebuilt itself in his mind and he felt somewhat stupid.

“Oh—jeez, Wonwoo! What the heck—you’re like, the last person I would expect to run into here. Wow, it’s been a while!”

“Uh, yeah. Since the party, I guess.”

Sierra, the girl who’d fashioned together his drink.

“Yeah. That feels like forever ago... what’re you doing here?”

He pushed down on the laptop lid and sat up straighter in the wicker chair, accidentally looking into the eyes of the girl who was shyly clinging to Sierra’s side. She immediately glanced elsewhere.

“I live here, actually.”

“Oh! That’s cool,” Sierra smiled. “Your family owns it, or?”

“No. The lady who runs the pottery shop also has ownership of the units upstairs. She rents them out. I live up there.” He pointed his finger toward the ceiling as to emphasis his point.

“Okay, okay, that make a lot more sense. Still really cool.”

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, adjusting his glasses.

“Oh—yeah. So, this is my younger sister, Cora,” Sierra explained, grabbing onto the petite girl’s shoulder. “She was supposed to have her first class today, but she was feeling, um—well, you know how kids are. She’s just a bit shy. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, of course not,” Wonwoo concurred, noting the resemblance between the two. “I was deathly shy when I was little.”

“Right? We were just gonna stop by to meet to the teacher ahead of her next class. I thought it might make everything easier.”

Wonwoo frowned. “She left, actually.”

“Shoot, really?”

“Yeah, said she had to run to the bank. I’m sitting down here because I’m waiting for the pottery to finish drying in the kiln. I would give you an ETA, but I have no idea when she’s coming back.”

Glancing down at her sister, Sierra ruffled the girl’s hair.

“That sucks, huh?”

But she said nothing, just clung tightly to the back of Sierra’s yellow shirt, deciding to nod her head in response. Sierra shrugged.

“Is she usually here around this time?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo confirmed, “you could try again tomorrow.”

“Okay, wicked. I would wait but I’ve got a list of errands for today and I’m not even halfway through. And I’m sure Cora wouldn’t want to sit around, anyway. We just got a pool put in at the house.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Do you swim?”

“No, not at all. The most I do is dip my feet in.”

“Aw, boo,” she said with dismay, shoulders sagging. “Well, it was nice running into you, Wonwoo. And—um, it might not be your thing, but I work at the Honeymoon almost every night—like, six to midnight. So, if you’re ever in Centertown, you should stop by.”

“Oh, good to know.”

“M’kay, later!”

Wonwoo waved. “Bye, guys.”

Once they left the pottery shop, Wonwoo set his elbows onto the plastic-sheeted table and leaned into his cold hands, sighing heavily as the egg timer continued ticking. Sierra was polite. She seemed warm like the sunshine and beautifully sincere. Wonwoo could read from her tender brown eyes that she desired more out of him—a friendship, a relationship, maybe something blissful, blurred, and in between. Though, it was nothing Wonwoo could give her.

He thought about the comment she made in regards to their pool—if he ever swam. Wonwoo didn’t swim, not since that horrible incident of Lifeguard all those years ago, back at the waterpark he used to attend alongside his older brother. Still, it got him thinking.

Reverting to his desktop, he looked for a folder.

writing.footage

It contained all the video clips he’d taken of you with the camcorder throughout your writing journey. He had every single one, from the grassy running ring at the high school to the footage he’d taken of the evening sky the day you two visited the beach.

His mouse hovered over a clip.

Fuck—he really shouldn’t do that. Every moment would sting like a red hot, peeling sunburn. The mouse moved away from the video clip and Wonwoo sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand against his face at the near torment. But… it had been so long. He missed you.

“Whatever…” he sighed to himself, clicking the video.

It took a moment to start up.

“Okay! So, this is Mooney’s Bay. It encompasses chapter three, and—Wonwoo, you have to film my intro! Why are you filming the sand?”

“Sorry, the lighting’s not good.”

“Oh.”

“Stand this way.”

“Those people will get in the shot.”

“Who cares? They’re far away.”

“I’ll stand in front of them… okay, are you zoomed in?”

“You told me not to zoom in.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Remember when I zoomed in and you said I shouldn’t do that because it doesn’t capture the scenery properly?”

“Well, I said that because you were zooming in on me when you were supposed to be getting the ambiance shots! That’s why I said don’t zoom in. You can zoom in for the intro. Is the light better?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Does my hair look good? Actually, do you think it’s too windy? I’m worried about it being too windy, and then I can’t hear my introduction. I have to be able to hear my introduction. I’m really nervous. Wait—let me take off my flip flops. There’s so much sand in them and I hate it. Okay. Am I covering the people?”

“Yes.”

“Should I start now?”

“Go ahead.”

“Okay. So, this is Mooney’s Bay, and… and… wait—oh no! I forget my lines. What was I supposed to say, again?”

“I’m not sure, it’s your script. Something about chapter three.”

“Oh, I remember now! Okay, again from the top. Cut this out!”

He remembered that warm day as clear as the bay’s shiny water—specifically, the plethora of takes he had to film because you kept fudging up the script typed out on your phone. Wonwoo surfed through the rest of the clips pertaining to the beach, smiling to himself whenever you would fumble the words for the umpteenth time and groan in sheer frustration. Eventually, the backdrop turned from blue skies to an evening sunset. You two had spent hours there, and the filming had ended with tangy lemonade and watermelon.

He moved to a different assortment of clips.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, introduce the flavour. Like show and tell.”

“Oh, like a vlog?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. This is my flavour: it’s strawberry cheesecake. The red bits are the strawberries and those chunks are the cheesecake. I picked it because this is the flavour I got when I went on my first date with Mingyu. I love strawberries the most. Cheesecake is my favourite cake. Um… I don’t really know what else to say…”

“Where’d you get it from?”

“Oh—from The Big Chill!”

“What would you rate it?”

“Like, seven out of ten.”

“Not perfect even though it’s your favourite things?”

“Well—because the ice cream is too hard. I like soft ice cream. If I waited like, ten minutes, then ate some, it would be higher.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Okay! You’re not supposed to be inserting your personal comments! You’re just supposed to say prompts and stuff. Don’t make me revoke your camera privileges.”

“You know anybody else with my camera operating skills?”

“Seokmin.”

“He couldn’t film his way out of a paper bag.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t already said.”

The abrupt end to the video made Wonwoo sink down in his chair with a dumb, wide smile. You did in fact, wait the entire ten minutes for your ice cream to significantly melt in the cup, then forcing Wonwoo to watch with unfiltered judgement as you stirred it up like a smoothie. You said it helped with your sensitive teeth.

He could understand that.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to watch much more, he chose one final clip to open—the most recent one he’d taken. It was from the day you raced home in the rain after exploring the nature museum, right before Princess had swung by to pick you up. He had been fooling around with the camcorder while you two sat on the couch.

“… Um, so… do you care if I keep this shirt? It’s a good bedtime shirt, and I don’t really have any. I mean, only if you say it’s okay.”

“Uh, sure. I hardly wear it anymore, to be honest.”

“Oh. What’s it from?”

“A math competition thing. If you straighten that part out… that’s Euler’s number… this other one is your classic integral.”

“Hm, yeah. That’s such a great conversation starter. Have you guys ever heard about the integral symbol? Such a classic!”

“You jest but it got me quite a bit of recognition.”

“Like you want recognition.”

“Yeah, that’s why I stopped wearing it.”

“Ah, okay.  So if I wear it out, will I get random geeks coming up to me on the street asking about it?”

“Probably.”

“Mm, okay. I’ll keep it.”

“You want that, huh?”

“Yes, so when they come up to me, I can say I have a really smart, talented, loser friend who owns it. So I can brag about you.”

“That’s… nice, I suppose. Can you drop the loser part?”

“No. It’s to keep you humble.”

“Seriously? Life has already humbled me enough, I think.”

The clip ended, and Wonwoo was staring back at himself in the screen’s black reflection. He could recall that oddly hollow feeling which situated uncomfortably large in the pit of his stomach when he realized how much he missed you.

But how could he not yearn for you? When you were so captivating, and infinitely brilliant, and stubbornly hard-headed in a tantalizing way that made him feel completely alive and invigorated.

I fucked up—it was all he could think as he pushed his laptop away and buried his head into his arms—I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up and I pushed away the most amazing girl I’ve ever known.

Suddenly, the small egg timer that had been sitting on the landlord’s desk a room away erupted. It started rattling and clanging and while Wonwoo should have shot up from his seat to turn it off and check the sculpted mugs cooking in the kiln, he stayed in his seat.

He felt glued to it.

All he could think about was how badly he needed to talk to you, hear your voice, see your face, smell your scent. Maybe he didn’t deserve it—Wonwoo knew he didn’t—but he loved you too much.

He couldn’t let you fade into a deep, dark memory.

—JULY 30th.

Wonwoo hadn’t been to his favourite café on Sunnyside Avenue for almost two months. He was therefore quite surprised at their new interior upon giving into a last-minute whim—visiting for a quick coffee. They had finally swapped their metal chairs for more cushiony seats, and the circle tabletops for square, wooden ones. The style of chalk writing on the overhead menu boards had changed, too.

He didn’t even recognize the baristas.

Usually, Wonwoo only stopped at the café to work on his writing and indulge in a raspberry lemon scone that was supposed to be a treat for having been productive, though he always ate it before a single word would ever grace the paper. Since he began helping you with your book back in March, he frequented the café less and less. It brought a smile to his face, recalling the incident of you slapping your hand against the window and jarring him half to death.

He used to be so afraid of you. Never would he imagine the comfort you’d end up bestowing him—and the fact he’d lose it all.

“I can help whoever’s next!”

Turning his attention from the corner where his old table used to sit—now occupied by two girls sharing a latte and giggling as they perused their phones—Wonwoo approached the barista he failed to recognize, waiting to take his order. Realizing he’d lost his metaphorical loyalty badge and that he could no longer just coolly toss out, ‘the usual’, Wonwoo had to remember what it was he even liked.

“Just an iced coffee,” he said, “and, uh… do you still have those scones with the raspberry and lemon filling?”

As the barista pressed something into the tablet screen, he shook his head. “Unfortunately they’re not made here anymore.”

“Oh, damn.”

“We do have a new strawberry scone, though, for summer. It’s got a confectionary sugar drizzle. It’s pretty popular.”

“Uh, don’t worry about it, I’ll just take the coffee.”

“No problem, man. Total is three ninety-nine.”

“Card, thanks.”

It might have been stupid, but Wonwoo couldn’t think about strawberries without thinking of you, because you always smelled like a sweet, ripe, and vibrantly red strawberry—it was the scent of your skin, which he so pathetically missed feeling warm and velvet against his. He bet one-hundred percent you would have ordered that scone.

After tapping his phone against the card reader, Wonwoo stepped aside and waited for his coffee. It was a Sunday. He had work tomorrow. There wasn’t much happening in his life.

“Iced coffee, right here.”

The barista slid the cardboard cup across the counter. Wonwoo grabbed it with a polite thank you, and then settled an inspecting glance around the café for a place to sit. He shouldn’t have come in the afternoon—it was always their busiest hours apart from early morning—and it seemed the redesign had promptly boosted their relevance, because Wonwoo couldn’t remember a time when the tables had ever been so filled. He stepped further into the seating area, though, someone familiar had just caught his eye.

Princess.

She was sat at a table close to some beautifully potted ferns and palm leaves, typing on a laptop while a plate with a half-finished sandwich and a plastic cup of matcha remained by her elbow. At the exact moment that Wonwoo saw her, Princess had also looked up, and as though by magic, their gazes caught without hesitation.

At first, Wonwoo panicked. The breath dropped out of his chest and he pondered waving to her, turning tail, and fleeing. There was not a single doubt in his mind that she was aware of the fight between you and him—she was your best friend—and Wonwoo knew from the manner in which her lips apprehensively curled into a numb smile that Princess already knew everything. Still, she waved at him.

Wonwoo gulped, waving back.

Maybe it was an indescribably stupid decision, but Wonwoo opted to swallow the fear and dread and anxiety in his throat. If she didn’t want him to sit with her, then he trusted that Princess would make such a boundary extremely clear—but Wonwoo had to try. He had to make some sort of initiative, some form of amends, and above all, he wanted to know about you, even if the answer hurt terribly.

“Uh, hey… how are you?”

Princess’ tattooed hands stilled on the keyboard. She flitted her round, deep brown eyes up at him, and he felt frustrated that he could extract little to nothing from their depths. Again, she smiled.

“I’m alright. Just working on some forms for work.”

Wonwoo nodded. “Do you, uh… do you care if I sit?”

She didn’t speak, but continued to stare at him with a lip worried between her teeth, and it was then Wonwoo could realize the conflict swimming through her gaze. The panic started to build again, and the regret surged into his stomach like a tsunami.

“Really, I don’t mean to make things awkward,” Wonwoo was urged to clarify, the cold cup feeling increasingly slippery in his clammy hand, “I can go. I don’t want to cause any problems."

“No, no—” Princess shook her head, meanwhile her tone remained strained and uncertain, “—it’s okay. Uh, yeah. Sure. Take a seat. I mean, it’s plenty full in here. I’m not that busy.”

“Are you sure? Because—”

“Yeah, I’m sure. You can sit, Wonwoo.”

He exhaled softly, proceeding to pull out the chair. It felt quite nice sitting against a cushion rather than the hard metal he remembered.

Princess reached for her matcha, placing the straw between her lips and taking a long, heavy sip as though to prepare herself for the awkward nature of their incoming conversation. Wonwoo did the same. He didn’t even know where to start. Was it better to burn off his nerves through small talk or jump straight into the heat?

She moved the long braids off her shoulder, heaved in a breath.

“Well, let’s just get the bulk of this talk out of the way. I know what happened. I know you’re not friends with Her anymore. I know the way it ended was super ugly. I know that she spent, like, three days at my apartment, miserable, in tears over you, Wonwoo. So, I do feel a certain way toward you. I hope you can understand that.” She closed the lid of her laptop and sighed. “But, we’re adults. And I guess I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about… some things.”

“No, I—I get that.”

Already, he wanted to throw up. Despite all his repressing, he could still hear that choked, vulnerable, completely broken sob you croaked out the day you left his apartment—how mercilessly it had haunted him for the entire week—made him believe he was a monster, a masochist, the lowest form of human being. Wonwoo felt there was no excusing it. He would always hate himself for it.

“What are you curious about?” Wonwoo asked quietly.

Princess glanced down for a second, staring at the smooth, black surface of her laptop. She then clicked her nails together.

“I-I just… how could it… how could it go so wrong?” The girl wondered aloud, leaning back into her chair, seeming despaired at the aftermath. “From the second I saw her get defensive of you at Spring Street, I knew how much she cared. I knew that you meant something to her and for whatever reason, she wasn’t going to let anyone screw it up. And she became so much lighter. Everything wasn’t an attack. Everything she did wasn’t so agonizing anymore.”

Wonwoo’s knee wouldn’t stop bouncing underneath the table, the nervous energy accumulating rather than draining away. He wished he had the perfect answer, but he couldn’t yet find one.

Her head tilted, shoulders shrugging. “I don’t know… I thought you could be so good for Her. She doesn’t have anyone in her life that’s like you. But—I mean—fuck, we’re here, now, aren’t we?”

“Mmhm,” Wonwoo mumbled, staring straight into the girl’s shiny, unwavering eyes that held so much sentiments of angst and betrayal, like she herself was carrying your rage. “Princess… I… I want, so fucking bad, to give you a good answer for why everything blew up. I do. But—just—every time I try to look inward, every time I try to understand it at its core, I feel like it’s all shrouded. I know I fucked up. I know it. She made—makes—me happy, too. But I’m not there yet.”

“You’re not where?” She asked, pressing forward. “At a place where you can understand what you did? Why you did it?”

Fiddling with his cup atop its cork coaster, Wonwoo nodded.

He then chewed into his bottom lip, feeling the skin break.

“Can I ask… what did you think of me? When she told you what happened? If you have to be brutally uncouth, I don’t care.”

Princess abruptly laughed at the request, head tumbling forward into her gold-ringed hands. He wasn’t sure if she would oblige, as the laugh sounded nervous yet tinged with disbelief, which led Wonwoo to believe she had thought some very unpleasant things.

“Um… let’s see...” she chuckled hesitantly, smoothing antsy hands along her dark skin, “I was definitely gagged, let’s start there.”

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know—I just—I didn’t believe that you would be capable of being such a fucking asshole. I mean—” she collapsed back into the chair, throwing up her arms, “—can you blame me? You’re quiet, well-mannered, intelligent. Everyone loved you at the party. I think the fact you could turn around and be so… s-so cruel, so hostile, like you were—I don’t know—trying to gut her, just seemed impossible. But Her doesn’t lie. She has no reason to make it up. I wasn’t able to think much at all because I went comfort mode. I just wanted to focus on getting her mind off you.”

“And… afterward?”

“Well, I wanted to destroy you, obviously.”

“… Fair.”

“So, can I ask you something?”

Instantly, his stomach dropped to his feet, and Wonwoo was certain his face had paled like a washed-out t-shirt. Princess’ gaze settled upon him with intense focus. Wonwoo scratched at his thumb.

“Okay.”

“… Do you love her?”

He didn’t answer. Even if he wanted to, the words erased from his mind in a mere snap of one’s fingers. Instead, Wonwoo stared at the girl while she politely waited for a sign, knowing his very loud, lacking response was an answer enough in itself if his eyes weren’t already panicked and practically writing the narrative for him. To admit his true heart to another person was the most horrifying predicament Wonwoo could articulate. He was far from capable.

Princess raised her brow. “I’ll take that as a—”

“You can’t tell Her. Please, please, please, whatever you do, whatever you think of me—just, please don’t tell Her,” Wonwoo blurted, the perspiration drenching the palms that sunk into his knees. “I-I don’t know what I’ll do if she finds out. Really, I—”

“Wonwoo.” Princess reached under the table, and he felt her cool, soft hand settle overtop his. “I’m not going to say anything to anyone, okay? Just breathe. You look like you’re going to have—"

“Don’t say it,” he exhaled shakily, “I-I know…”

He proceeded to close his eyes, draw in a long, deep, thorough breath, while his knee continued jittering and his chest felt so tight and twisted with fear. He closed his eyes and recalled the washroom belonging to his aunt’s house in rural Changwon, with the bright blue shower curtain and its pattern of yellow rubber ducks. 

Wonwoo counted all the rubber ducks on that childhood curtain, the number having been scorched into his mind like a scar, until he felt the world fall back into tune. The steadiness of Princess’ hand over top his was a gentle reminder that he was indeed alive and not a puddle of mistakes melted to the café floor. Pushing up the glasses that had slipped down his nose, he reopened his eyes to see the girl’s the sympathetic, earnest face. Wonwoo cleared his throat.

“Um, yeah—I’m okay… just—uh, th-thank you.”

She pulled her hand away, smiling, “no problem.”

The two proceeded to sit in silence as Wonwoo further collected his bearings. He glanced around the café, recognizing no one else amongst the crowd, and spotting more and more modifications that had appeared since his last visit—the light fixtures overhead were different, the decorative wall art had been replaced, and the baristas were all wearing hats with a new, improved logo. So much had developed in his absence. So much had to change.

He looked at his iced coffee, which he took a sip from, and realized that he didn’t prefer the taste quite like he used to.

Wonwoo sighed, pushing the drink away from him.

“Princess?”

“Yeah?”

“I know I don’t deserve this. I know that me even asking this might seem so unprecedentedly stupid. Her probably doesn’t want you talking to me, which I get, and I know you feel conflicted about me being here… but… fuck… Princess, I have to know something about Her. Anything. I don’t care if it’s the smallest, most insignificant detail you could think of. Just one thing… that’s all.”

The delivery was undoubtedly begging, perhaps pathetic, but he could not find it within himself to care. He missed you too fucking much, to the point it was becoming insufferable, unliveable.

Folding one leg over the other, Princess leaned back and grabbed onto her matcha, spinning it slightly. She was no longer meeting his eyeline, and that drowned his hopes in a watery grave.

He settled his elbows onto the table, his finger gripping at the air with every pleading word that he could somehow conjure.

“I know you don’t want to; I-I know it. I know she fucking hates me, detests me, wishes we never met. But this is the most regretful I’ve ever been, a-about anything in my life. And—I know that I’m pushing you—I’m sorry—I’m so fucking sorry—if I can just know one thing, I’ll leave you alone. I-I mean, is she… did she get a new shirt, after that one ripped, on the hanger? Does she still go to the SSA meetings? Or—I don’t fucking know—is she writing? Is she doing something new? Have you seen her smile at all? Or heard her laugh? Genuinely laugh. The one where she can’t even breathe and she grips onto you and buries her head into your neck? Is she still just as quippy? Constantly rambling over herself? I miss that so much… I miss all of it… everything about her… there’s nothing I don’t miss.”

Princess was biting her lip, refusing to say a word.

Wonwoo hadn’t intended to barrage her. Nonetheless, he couldn’t leave the café without wholeheartedly trying.

“Fuck…” he exhaled, placing his forehead against the black wood of the table, breathing back the bitterness, the frustration, the tears. Princess was a boulder, it seemed. He’d lost, picking his head back up after a moment of composure, and pushed out his chair.

“You’re leaving?” She asked, her gaze heavy with sadness.

He nodded. “I just—I… yeah.”

“Okay… later.”

“Bye, Princess,” he answered, his throat irritably tight.

“… Well—o-okay, actually…”

As her voice picked up amongst the cluttering dishes and drawls of conversation, Wonwoo turned around to see the girl’s remorseful expression and the hands shoved tightly under her arms. Princess paused, staring at the coffee mug he’d abandoned at the table.

“… She needs you.”

Wonwoo stiffened, then nearly scoffed in disagreement.

“She hates me. What do you mean?”

But Princess shook her head, making a twisting motion at her lips like she was fastening the lock to a chest. It was her one thing.

And Wonwoo had no idea what to make of it.

It had been far too long since Wonwoo last texted, spoke to, or saw Vernon. When he left for an entire week to stay at his uncle’s cottage in the midst of July,  he hadn’t even shot the boy a message that he was leaving. As cold or uncompassionate as it may have sounded, Wonwoo never really considered Vernon to be that important or necessary to his life until he sat back and thought about their relationship: a studious loner with an unperturbed drug dealer who somehow formed a bond that hadn’t predictably eroded.

Sure, it helped that Vernon became his plug and there was technically a reason for their symbiosis, but what Wonwoo hadn’t taken note of was their closeness over the months.

Perhaps it was guilt, or the sting of losing you and having experienced Princess treat him like an ugly secret, or the simplistic, innate need for human contact, that Wonwoo finally decided to reach out and invite the boy over for a smoke. Vernon agreed, though it wasn’t until the near cusp of midnight that he stopped by. Together they sat on the complex rooftop, two perfectly packed blunts between them, lit by their sparking lighters. The conversation drifted from topic to topic like a passive leaf being tugged through a breeze.

Wonwoo was able to realize how desperately he needed a moment like that—no guards, no anxiety, no hyper-analyzing every little goddamn comment or action—just friendship.

And Vernon made it easy.

“Not to mention the fact that Seokmin—he fuckin’ sucks at mini-puttin’ by the way. Jesus Christ, man. There was a twelve-year-old girl a hole behind us who was makin’ shots like Tiger Woods, and then here we are, waitin’ for Seokmin to make a shot that is damn near impossible to—like, okay—tell me why he’s got one leg on the fuckin’ rock and the other stretched halfway across the laneway like he's droppin’ into the splits? Why does it need t’be that hard!”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo half-laughed, half-coughed into his elbow, the smoke instantly rushing back out his mouth.

“Holy fuck. I wish I’d seen that in person.”

“No,” Vernon deadpanned, rolling up his sleeves, “you don’t. At that point, just pick up the ball and move it into the hole, man. That twelve-year-old’s got places to be and we’re over here climbin’ on rocks and crawlin’ under bridges like it’s a fuckin’ jungle gym.”

“I’m surprised they even let you in.”

“Oh—me too,” he chuckled. “Fuck someone once in the storage closet at glow-in-the-dark mini-put and suddenly you’re ‘a detriment to the company.’ Like, get the fuck outta my face.”

“You live, you learn.”

“Well, she’s still there. Somehow.”

“Ruby?”

“Yeah—just sold her like two-hundred bucks of ecstasy.”

Wonwoo threw his head back and cackled.

“You still talk to her?!”

“No, no—Ruby’s chill! Always came to work stoned half the time, though. Dude, no. It was the other girl that fuckin’ ratted on us.”

“Damn… so, is Ruby the one?” Wonwoo teased.

As Vernon removed the joint from his lips, a swift trail of smoke ejected into the nighttime air. He huffed in disagreement.

“Nah. She’s a good friend you can screw on the low. Know you guys won’t catch feelings. Makes it easy. That’s what I’m about.”

“Yeah. Simple enough.”

Scraping his thumb against the rough spark wheel of his favourite Bic, Wonwoo lit the small, dancing flame, bringing it close to his blunt and crisping the paper more heavily. He proceeded to draw in a long, smooth breath. The atmosphere was almost silent if not for the distant murmur of midnight traffic. Wonwoo watched the abundant smoke as it slowly streamed out his nose. It eventually dissipated against the blackness, existing just long enough for Wonwoo to appreciate that weightless sensation it gave him.

Vernon swept a hand through his hair, smiled at Wonwoo.

“Okay, so, feel free to tell me to fuck off—” the boy began with notable caution, taking a quick hit before removing the blunt from his lips “—but, uh, what exactly… did happen… between you and Her?”

For a moment, the vigilantly placed question hovered in the cool summer air as Wonwoo breathed out another cloud. However, he didn’t let the smoke disappear on its own, rather he blew into it harshly and forced the flurry to melt. One way or another, he knew this topic would surface. And Vernon was right—he completely had the right to tell his friend to fuck off—because no matter how much time had passed since, Wonwoo still felt the wound with all the freshness and intensity of that night. He remained stiff, thinking.

Sensing the reluctancy, Vernon abandoned his request.

“Y’know, it doesn’t matter. We’re havin’ fun, anyway.”

Wonwoo was going to agree—yeah, let’s skip it—but at the last second, he burned the reliable safety of his choice. The thing was, he hadn’t really discussed the fight with anybody. Sitting down and talking to Princess didn’t bestow the alleviation or closure that Wonwoo thought it would, especially considering her loyalty to you and the fact she hadn’t desired that conversation more than she desired a hole in the head. He was able to relieve some tension upon visiting his uncle’s, but, ultimately, Wonwoo was doing the exact thing you had accused him of—letting things sit and fester.

Shutting everyone out.

Poisoning himself, and those around him.

After tugging at the edge of his thick beanie, Wonwoo rubbed a knuckle against his forehead and decided to bite the bullet.

“Uh, no—all good. You’re curious, I get it.”

Vernon’s eyes widened underneath the moonlight and the warm, glowing radiance that crept over the building precipice. He nearly choked on the smoke.

“Wait—dude. Really?”

“Yeah.” Wonwoo angled his face toward him, nodding.

“Okay, uh… wow. Wasn’t expectin’ to get this far.”

“Need a moment to catch your breath, yeah?”

“Psh—shut the fuck up, Glasses… actually—no, yeah. Let me take a hit first. I feel like this is gonna be a deep-dish pizza, y’know?”

“Somewhat, I suppose,” Wonwoo agreed.

He copied his friend, crisping the blunt one last time before pressing his lips around the paper and drawing in a big breath.

Right before the prickling could desiccate his throat, Wonwoo exhaled everything into the abrupt breeze—not just the smoke, but his fears, his worries—whatever might stunt or thwart him from understanding that it wasn’t so terrifying to be candour.

Vernon shook out his shoulders.

“Okay, player. You’ve got my attention.”

Wonwoo swallowed.

How the fuck does one go about saying this?

“So, uh…”

Where does he even start?

“I guess the important part is…”

What’s going to happen if he chokes on all his words?

“Okay, so, we basically… um…”

Wonwoo, you have spent practically your entire life writing and crafting sentences and the most adolescent, tormented prose imaginable—how is it that you cannot configure one thought?

“I’m… I’m kind of in love with her.”

He thought about glancing at Vernon to gauge his reaction, especially when his friend didn’t offer one word in response, not even a pointed hmph, or a sniffle, or something satirical to suggest that all his teasing had some actual truth and substance.

But Wonwoo didn’t look.

Vernon was giving him the floor to keep going.

“And… that night, at the party, we had this really sincere moment… I mean, maybe it wasn’t that sincere—she’d just done a line of coke and had been sipping alcohol and smoking all night. But that’s how it felt when it was happening. After the bullshit with Bells, I took her to a spare bedroom to calm down. She asked me to lay with her.”

Wonwoo paused to collect his breathing. Even just the memory of your body pressed against his was enough to rake up those buried emotions from his insides like old, autumn leaves. The memories of your heat, and the giggling into his neck, and the way your fingers would occasionally trace shapes on his chest as you listened to him talk—nothing had ever felt so cosmically right.

“Um… yeah. I don’t know why I agreed. I didn’t care about if it was wrong or right. If Mingyu came barging in, or someone else, or—fuck, if the goddamn roof caved in—I didn’t care. I just wanted to be with her so fucking bad. We didn’t kiss or anything. We just laid there together, like, intertwined, you know? I told her some stuff. We were just talking… I think, in my mind, I just wanted to have this moment where I was something to her, more than a friend. And I just—I put this stupid fucking notion in my head that it was true.”

Eyes squeezed shut, blunt poised between his fingers, Wonwoo rode the high of another hit, ignoring the deep, sensitive pain cutting his bone marrow. He kept excavating despite the hurt.

“But—I-I mean, a girl like that?” He laughed, head bending down between his propped knees. “A girl like that, you know? She is so—sh-she’s—I shouldn’t want her at all. I should want nothing to do with her. But—I don’t know—she has drive, and things she’s passionate about, and she can be so unrelenting and fucking bossy, but then so soft, and calm, and I just get drawn into her like a moth to a flame. I think everything’s okay, you know? I don’t get that… that dread—that feeling like I’m constantly failing, and useless, and like everything is out to get me.”

Wonwoo hadn’t glanced at Vernon once. He didn’t want to.

That way, it felt like he was alone, talking to himself, maybe talking to the moon. It erased the veil of pressure and eased his typically constrained, rigid muscles. Feeling his glasses begin to slip, Wonwoo lifted his head, pushing the circled frames back up his nose.

“I don’t know why it’s like that. I don’t know why it’s her, specifically. Sometimes I wish it wasn’t. She has Mingyu to love. And it just—it fucking frustrates me so much—" Wonwoo breathed out the irritation, licking his lips, “—because we’re having this sweet moment, and it’s so perfect, and right. But then all of a sudden, he’s just—he—she's letting him fuck her. Like that moment we had was nothing, like I didn’t just be the most open I’ve ever been with her. And—I know, I know—she’s high as fuck and not thinking straight. So, what do I chalk us up to, then? A bad trip? A blur in time? A moment you live once and then just forget? What the fuck do I make of that?”

Something crackled inside him, akin to match being lit, palpable enough that it motivated the boy to his feet because this cramped, knees-to-chest position wouldn’t suffice in channeling the energy he felt. Wonwoo moved the blunt to his lips, attempting to speak while it hung at the corner of his mouth, though he only left it there for a few seconds in his urgence for another hit. He started pacing.

“That was such a dogshit moment, you know? Going down there, wanting it to be a lie, almost believing it, but then—I hear it. I-I hear the way she’s getting fucked and I hear her moans and her whimpers and I hear the way he’s using her.” Wonwoo kicked a stone off the edge of the building, one hand shoved into his sweats pocket while the other fed him a brief inhalation from the blunt. “I’ve never felt that before. Awful. Like, indescribable devastation. I ran to the washroom to throw up because my body just couldn’t handle it. It felt like such a kick in the fucking teeth. And I was mad at her—like, fuck you for throwing back all that trust into my face, you know?”

He shook his head, then balancing at the rim of the complex like a fall from that height wouldn’t leave him broken.

“I was so fucking pissed at her…” Wonwoo muttered, staring down at the shadowed streets, “every time I thought about it, I just felt sick… but, obviously, we have to hash it out. That’s why she jumped you, or whatever—I wasn’t texting her back because I knew nothing good would come from it. Like I said, though… she’s unrelenting. Shows up at my door, banging on it like there’s a murderer outside. I was in a terrible headspace. I… I kind of…”

The words jammed on his tongue.

Wonwoo had to walk away from the ledge as a foggy sensation muddled his senses. Hands, beginning to tremble, pulled in torment down the back of his black beanie, the blunt caught between his fingers as he remembered the inexcusable maliciousness to his ranting. It echoed through his head like a gong.

He squatted down, rubbing at his wrinkled, aching brow.

“I… I basically—j-just—I tore her to fucking shreds.”

There was so much emotion clogging his throat. Every word was a struggle to enunciate, and each one burned and stung more tangibly than the last, as though he’d swallowed knives.

“It didn’t even feel good, you know? It wasn’t cathartic, or victorious. I felt like… do I even deserve anything? She went into the hall and… that sob. Oh my god… bawling her eyes out because of my stupidity. Because of my inability to be a fucking person as she mentioned.”

Wonwoo stared at the grit covering the roof.

He reached out his hand, letting the small bits of rubble stick to his fingertips, thinking, about everything, how he destroyed it. You were just a panicked river, trying to heal and soothe, but the message was lost under the current. Wonwoo had been a scalding fire, one that charred everything the instant it touched his vengeful heat.

There were only ashes. He didn’t know how to rebuild a relationship from something so fragile and ruined at his beckon.

The frustration was boiling in Wonwoo’s gut. All his shortcomings, the ignorance to the flaws he buried, how he treated you—it was all bubbling together like some sort of poisonous, infectious brew and if he didn’t somehow release pressure then he would crack like ceramics. Wonwoo maneuvered the thick blunt from his fingers into his palm where he crushed it, hard.

“Uh, Wonwoo? It’s… it’s okay, man. You—”

“Fuck!”

The tattered piece of crisped tobacco paper and grinded weed flew into the air, the breeze pulling the remnants somewhere unimportant. Vernon immediately smothered his words. He could only stare, frozen, as Wonwoo tore off his glasses, rubbing a sweater sleeve against the beginning pricks of tears that bulbed up from his eyes. He sucked in a long, shuddering, ragged breath.

“I fucking hate this, Vernon. I-I’m everything she said I was. I do it to myself. I always do it to myself. I want to change so badly but it never feels like it’s happening fast enough, a-an-and—and—and—”

“Glasses, relax, okay?”

Vernon was on his feet in an instant, quickly brushing his hands off against the fabric of his jeans, the blunt now tucked behind his ear. Wonwoo continued rubbing into his eyes. His friend’s face appearing before him was nothing but watery smudging, almost like a ruined oil painting. Wonwoo hiccupped.

“No—Vernon—y-you don’t understand, you—I-I fucked up, alright? I fucked up so bad! I—” he could hardly breathe, his glasses dropped somewhere on the roof, “—I just wrecked everything and—”

“Wonwoo! Jeon Wonwoo!” Vernon gripped his shoulders and shook them sternly. “Shut up! You’re takin’ all the fuckin’ air!”

The abruptness snapped a wire in Wonwoo’s brain. It was so unexpected that he almost wasn’t sure if it happened. However, his torrent of seemingly endless anxious thought began to falter, with a very slow but gradual concentration toward the softness rosying his friend’s blurred face. Vernon rubbed against Wonwoo’s trembling arm, and with a gentle tug, urged him to sit down.

“C’mon, get on your ass… there ‘ya go. Awesome. Now… where’s your—oh, shit—they’re right here. Lucky you, huh?”

Vernon crouched down in front of him.

As Wonwoo busied himself with carving those scratches against his thumb, Vernon extended a hand to his friend’s cheek.

“Let me rid get of these tears… so you… can actually… see…”

With a grunt, Vernon fell back onto his butt.

“Let’s put these on, yeah? Are you okay with that?”

Vernon seemed to accept the quietness as him not quite being ready, and so the boy settled for resting a tattooed hand on Wonwoo’s knee, familiarizing him with a grounding touch. In due time, Wonwoo was relaxed enough to properly swallow.

Vernon smiled at him.

“So, does Glasses need his glasses now?”

Wonwoo sniffled, imitating a rumbling sound to clear his brittle throat, meanwhile there was a breeze ghosting along his exposed nape. It was just as comforting as Vernon’s touch.

“Y-Yes… thank you.”

“Hey, no problem. I’m just glad they didn’t get crushed.”

When his friend’s calm face clarified in the silver moonlight, with his unjudgmental eyes, and his compassionate smile, Wonwoo began to realize that… perhaps, being trusting and vulnerable and honest was not the worst thing in the world. There was merit and relief. There was a friend waiting on the other side with an open hand.

“Vernon… I, um… I’m—”

“Listen, Glasses. If you’re gonna apologize to me, then shove it right back up your ass. Seriously. There’s no need.”

“Well, I mean…” Wonwoo wiped his runny nose, “I kind of unloaded on you, and, I didn’t intend for that. I really didn’t.”

“I asked you a loaded question in the first place, didn’t I? I ordered a deep-dish pizza and that’s what I fuckin’ got.”

“Well… I-I… I’m glad you can look at it that way.”

“God, Wonwoo. You’re actin’ like this was a total blindside. I know you, y’know? Maybe not to a tee, but I know you.” Vernon kept his hand against Wonwoo’s knee, dusting some grit from it. “And I know you’re gonna feel regretful about all this, but you shouldn’t, alright? ‘Cause, look—you did somethin’ that most people—they go their entire lives without doin’. You dug deep and acknowledged your flaws. And not just the pansy shit, like—oh, I’m bad at time management, I forget to put the dishes away, I don’t fill up the ice cube tray, I never reply to texts—I mean the real stuff.

The really dark, uncomfortable stuff that we know is there but it’s so much easier to ignore. The stuff that gets in the way of our happiness, or success, or connections—bein’ the sin-sincerest versions of ourselves—it’s so much easier to pack all that bad stuff down. It’s there but at least it’s not out here. But then, like, maybe one day it is out here. And it’s hurtin’ everything around you. And some people will still let it slide because there’s always somethin’ else to blame. What is that bullshit—acceptance is always the hardest part? I don’t fuckin’ know. Anyway, you should give yourself some credit, Glasses. Seriously. I’m proud.”

“Proud?” Wonwoo chuckled weakly, returning the warmth of his friend’s honeyed eyes. “That's such a mom thing to say.”

Vernon’s hand shifted to whacking Wonwoo’s arm. “Don't get smart.”

“No, uh—I’m joking. Thank you, Vernon… really.”

“Hey, I know I’m your drug dealer, but I consider us friends, y’know? And not every friend’s gotta be your support beam. But I think you’re someone worth supportin’… hey—that sounded pretty smart and eloquent, right? I’m basically you, now.”

Wonwoo smiled. “You're missing the glasses.”

“I’ll just take yours,” Vernon chided, giving his friend’s chest a light push, “what’re you gonna do, anyway? Four-eyes.”

“I think if you wore these for more than five minutes… you’d get a migraine,” Wonwoo supposed, watching Vernon nod his head.

“Damn. You’re probably right. Not worth it.”

“Mmhm…”

“… But, um… y’know what I do think is worth it?”

Wonwoo raised his eyebrow.

Vernon paused, as though to contemplate his response, but when the words left his mouth, there was pure firmness behind them.

“Man, you need to talk to Her.”

Pressing his lips together, Wonwoo stared off into the corner.

Vernon nudged his arm, attempting to engage him.

“I’m serious! You know she’s perfect for you, right? A bossy girl who’s about her shit but can soften up for you is exactly what you need. Girls like that—they care so fuckin’ much, y’know? And she’s majorly into you. I saw how she hugged you at the party. How she got all smiley and sweet. I mean, she was gonna punch Bells in the fuckin’ face to stop her from makin’ a move on you. She’s got a man, I know. And I’m not sayin’ be a fuckin’ homewrecker. But, like, I don’t know… Mingyu’s all image and no substance. A fuckin’ airhead.”

Wonwoo massaged along his forehead, chuckling.

“I thought you liked him.”

“Yeah, well, I liked him a lot more when he was handin’ me two-hundred ‘a Seungcheol’s bands. I know he just invited me to that party ‘cause I can get him n’ his rich friends high. I’m not stupid. Keep your enemies close, and your friends—wait, fuck—keep your—”

“Friends close and enemies closer?”

Vernon grinned, wide and gummy. “Bingo.”

“Good advice.”

“You’re insane if you don’t do it.”

“If I don’t talk to Her?”

“Yes! Don’t let her go! Are you crazy, Glasses?!”

“What am I supposed to say? I-I was such a cunt.”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, man—offer to lick hers. Bet she’ll forgive you right there on the spot. Damn. That’s how I’d do it.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Idiot.”

“Eh, whatever. You’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

Wonwoo exhaled a large, solacing breath, glancing toward the moonlight that beautifully shimmered down in its pearlescent webs, bathing the rooftop akin to the blue mirages at the nature museum.

Vernon was right.

He couldn’t let this be the end of your story.

—END OF PART FOUR.

[anonymouslosersworld]

continuing the bloodline

Prompt; Mc is the last of Solomon's bloodline wouldn't a half-demon baby be cute especially if it was with a certain king. (Mc's Depravity just wants to see a specific view after all they offered once.)

Summary: Mc just wants to breed and knock up some very pretty demons.

Genre: smut (m)

Fandom: what in hell is bad

Characters; 2 out 4 Kings of hell Satan and Mammon

Warnings : Dom Mc, creampies, overstimulation, voyeurism, sub! character, m-preg just normal mc horny stuff.

Intro: Satan/Sitri/Ppyong, once told Mc that demons can't have kids on their own, for demons to have kids they would have to go to Lilith and ask for her help due to complications. But many demons just go to Earth and fuck humans because it's more compatible/easier. (this is in-game when they talk about Lilith and her role in demon society a little.)

So Mc, the last of her line looks into this topic (for research purposes, obviously) and finds out it's the demon that gets knocked up no matter the gender. Now Mc can't get the image of their favorite demon knocked up. (Not canon info)

Satan (666 words)

He understands he offered it when he got affected by the angel's blood, but he didn't think you would take him up on it. But ever since he presented the idea, you kind of took it with you. You didn't take the suggestion right away, but you had a certain look about you every time you saw Satan. You basically eye-fucked him almost all the time, but your eyes would linger around his stomach.

At first, he thought you were just fantasizing about his dick or basically just salivating over his abs. But then the touching started, and he could only describe it as oddly comforting but a little confused.

Before, during, and after you guys fucked, you would just rub his kiss marked-stomach. He was constantly asked if he had any cravings or would be inspected to see if his nips were swollen. It wasn't until the angel attacks calmed down and things were finally settling down that your actions were doubled. You were just taking him everywhere. You would pull him away from events with nobles just to do him in a separate room, shoving your tongue down his throat when he spoke to Sitri, making him cum from playing with horns and groping his cock whenever you felt like it. You were insatiable, and Satan began to put things together...eventually.

His horns were like a faucet, leaking all over his body. His hands are tied up with a makeshift tie on his headboard using his own shirt. His pink overall was shoved off of him.

His face was hot. His brain was foggy, and his eyes rolled back.

"so pretty~" He finally hears for a long while.

Your tongue takes a good, long lick of the cream that fell on his nipple from his horns. Satan's body shakes as he breathes heavily through his nose. Your body leaned over his as you continued to lick the devil's essence off his chest; after all, you need it to live.

Satan looks at you, dazed, as you sit back on his cock. He watches as you cheekily smile at him when you finally finish swallowing all of his cum.

"I'm going to make you a daddy, Satan~" You leaned back down to whisper into his ear.

"f-fuck!" The warmth wrapped around his cock was beginning to be too much, but your words made his cock burst. His thighs spread a little more. His cock practically throbbed while in you.

"You like that, baby?" You tease him as your hand presses on his stomach.

"You want a baby right here?" Satan lets out a shakey breath. '' You are the only one that I want to give my baby to." Your hands gripped the base of his horns yet again, and Satan's back arched.

Oh~" he could practically hear your smirk. "I didn't think they would get more sensitive."

Satan's head feels like it's going to explode. His mind is going a mile a minute as he keeps thinking of having a baby with you. Him being full and having a baby in him. His cock is deep inside you; he can feel your insides pulse around him. Satan feels your hips rocking, taking his cock back in and making his head dizzy. Was this why you kept fucking him over and over again? Was this why you kept his cock inside you long after you both came?

You were trying to make him pregnant.

"You'd look so beautiful with you full of me."

He whimpered in response. The tip of his cock had swollen up since you had basically promised him a baby.

He thought of his stomach swelling with your love.

a baby

"F~uugh!" Your lips bit into his neck. Your teeth are breaking his skin, and your tongue is soothing and lapping up after.

"I can't hear you, baby." Your lips moved from his neck to his ear. You take the liberty to nip the tip of his ear. "Go on, keep going."

"F-fuck a baby into me."

Mammon

You took one look at his massive tits and ass. He walks around hell in all kingdoms, claiming you are his master and claiming to be yours. Why wouldn't you think to breed the shit out of his fine ass?

He practically encourages you to be as greedy as possible and lets you touch him ALL over whenever. Something about this man makes you absolutely feral.

Maybe it's the off-the-shoulder, free-the-titties look that really did it for you. But for some reason, you loved seeing and feeling his gold-fingered claws dig into your skin or whatever was in his reach whenever the pleasure overwhelmed him.

The man's tits alone make you salivate at the mere sight, but when you mark them up with HICKIES, bites, scratches, and lick marks,.

It became the norm for Mammon to walk around Tartaros with all types of evidence on him. Mammon would walk with a spring in his step and a beam of pride whenever he even caught a reflection of the physical marks you left him in someone's eyeballs. All because you were staking your claim over him.

"I want everything," you repeated his favorite phrase to him. Both of your hands squeezed Mammon's tits as you had him underneath you. His body shivered, and his nips were swollen from you sucking them. You had taken orgasm after orgasm from him. His body was sensitive, and the remnants of chocolate on his abs clung to him. Your expert tongue had basically fucked his tits and stomach.

"It's all yours, master." The nail marks on your back stung, but you smiled at him as you took one of his fingers to your mouth. Your eyes reflected possessiveness, but your whole aura was bathed in lust. You would give Asmoudues a run for his money.

"I want all of you, Mammon." He whimpered as he felt you move against him again while the vibrator worked deeper inside him. Your ass looked amazing as you rode him. He loved the view of your ass as you rode him. You more than welcomed him to grope your ass as you gripped his thighs, leaving marks. He could feel your cum deep inside him from previous rounds.

"I-iingh, all yours; take everything. All that I am is yours."

"Have my treasure, Mammon." Your voice got a little deeper. " Let me fuck it into you. No one will have this treasure but you."

He can mostly see the back of your head but he could see a hint of a blush. He grounded his hips harder into you at the thought of you breeding him. He was already fucked out, but he couldn't help but want more. All the cum you shot him was safely kept inside him with a deep-tissue vibrator you had received as a gift from Beelzebub. The ultimate way of staking your claim over him

"y-yes, fuck yes!" he moaned loudly as he came " m-master, more" His face was red from blushing as he repeated what he said to you.

''let's make your wish a reality."

[rinawantstosleep]

"I don't like your stupid, white hair." 

"And I don't like your boring, brown hair, buddy."

"W-well... well, I don't like your ugly, doo-doo face!"

"Your mama does." 

The two could go bickering like this for hours on end if you let them. What may seem to be a mutually digressive arrangement is actually an oddly adorable bonding in disguise. Satoru and your son put on a front of being annoyed at the other's presence, but you've never seen them apart for longer than a few minutes at a time. They've grown on each other; much like how moss grows on a statue that's been lingering out in the open. An indispensable cycle of life that's truly inevitable. 

"No, she doesn't! She doesn't! She likes... sof- sofis... sofistogated guys."

"You mean sophisticated?"

"Shut up!" 

You'd been terrified that your little one wouldn't have a father-figure to rely on anymore after you divorced your husband. However, it was something you had to do for his sake. The child deserved to live in an environment that wasn't always reeking of alcohol, where he wasn't subjected to the constant, drunk yelling of a pathetic excuse of a father who couldn't get his shit together and lazed around at home all day while you did all the work. If that meant that you'd have to raise him on his own, then so be it. At least he'd be raised properly. Signing those papers was, by far, the easiest decision you'd ever made. 

"I'm not shutting up because a kid in clothes too big for him is telling me to."

"You... you're the one always wearing tight clothes around the house to impress my mama."

"No, that's because I'm ripped. Gotta show off what I've got. And your mama loves that." 

"Oh, yeah? That means you show off your... your - um... ugly, doo-doo face!"

Would you regard it a miracle that Satoru just so happened to stumble into your life around that very time? Well, relatively. Meeting him wasn't something you'd planned, nor anticipated. The kind stranger who offered to pay for your order at a café a year ago has somehow, thanks to quite a romantic sequence of events, turned into your boyfriend; a rock to lean on for when you need the support. And, also, someone that your little one can look up to (with the fun, bonus benefit of the pair getting into silly, childish quarrels nine times out of ten). What is Satoru if not a three-hundred-and-thirty-six-month-old toddler, too? Puts your five-year-old to utter shame with the way he acts. 

"Enough. Baby, we've been over this before. Behave."

"But, mama, he's being a meanie!" "But, babe, he's acting all pretentious." 

The responses come simultaneously: one is high pitched and whiny, and the other is your son. Sometimes, you have to pause and ask yourself how you haven't gone insane yet. It's the love that keeps you from falling apart. How could you ever harbor any other feeling for these two, except for wanting to cherish them? You just... need to work on a pet name that doesn't apply to the both of them at once.  

"I don't want to hear it. Sweetie, finish your lunch. And, Satoru?" 

"Yes, honey-who-loves-me-and-my-'ugly, doo-doo'-face?" He's smirking, snickering, while saying this, the sly bastard. When will the pair ever relent on trying to one-up the other? 

"Why have you got one of my hair ties on your wris- never mind. Don't forget to change the sheets in our room. I'd do it myself if not for the meeting I need to get to in an hour." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

Cue a tiny gasp. 

"But, mama..." The voice of your little one breaks the peaceful silence at the dining table once again. His legs start kicking back and forth - a sign that he's growing restless - from the chair they're dangling off of. He's got a protest already forming up in that head of his. "Toru said he'd take me to the skate park today. And he promised to get ice cream after."

Toru, huh? That's new. You can't help the smile that paints itself on your lips. The two have been getting along pretty well, it seems, contrary to all the bickering they do. That's always nice to know. It's amusing to see the dynamic they've built. One second, they're riling each other up to no end, the next, they've already formed a secret alliance to go out and have fun together. How cute. "Is that so?"

"Mhm! So that means we need to leave riiight after I finish my lunch. Don't get mad, okay?" 

It's the small things like these that warm your heart. Some sacrifices can be made if it's in regards to this adorable (step, even though you haven't married Satoru yet)father-son moment. The sheets are insignificant right now. "Awwh. Of course I won't get mad, baby. It's good for you to want to spend more time with Satoru. Isn't he a fun guy?"

"... maybe." 

. . . 

"Just make sure he's safe out there. Helmet and gear on at all times, no big ramps. And don't let him eat too much sugar. He'll get hyper. Once the rush dies down, he'll get cranky -"

Satoru's arm wraps around your waist before you can finish your sentence, pulling you overwhelmingly close to his frame. Instinctively, your arms move to wrap around his neck, just the way Satoru likes it. Oh, how he wants to just throw everything else out the window and drag you to the nearest room with a lock in place.

"You -" A quick peck to your lips, followed by a nibble on your bottom lip. "- worry -" Another peck. "- too -" Another. "- much." Then, an unexpected bite on the shell of your right ear. "I'd never allow myself to let that little demon get hurt; or hyper."

Large hands wander across the curve of your back, resting firm on your butt. Satoru doesn't want to expose your son to the way he's squeezing your plush flesh with his long digits, so he shifts to have your back pressed against the wall. A perfect opportunity to kiss you - which the man can't help but seize. What else is a smitten boyfriend to do while waiting for your son to get ready and come down from his room upstairs? Lips against lips until one of you pulls away for air. "He's safe with me, okay?" 

"Okay." 

"Atta girl. Now, you go that meeting of yours. And, tonight, after we both get back- oww."

"Groooss! Don't kiss my mama, or you'll make her ugly! Like youuu!"

"Baby, no. Don't kick Satoru's ankles-"

"I'm saving you, mama."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

[the-broken-truth]

Al'akh Al'ashghar - Jamil Viper [Platonic Yandere] [Male Yuu][Part 1 of 3]

Summary: During a dinner at Scarabia Dorm, something goes terribly wrong as you suddenly become poisoned, leaving you in critical condition. Fortunately, Jamil steps up to the task of ensuring that you make a full recovery. However, something about Jamil's demeanor seems off, but you can't quite identify what it is from your position of being bedridden.

Notes:

Al'akh Al'ashghar means 'Little Brother' in Arabic; considering Jamil's Name means 'Handsome/Beautiful' in Arabic, I thought this would be fitting to use. (I don't speak Arabic - I used Google Translate)

This story will be told in the Second POV.

Jamil will refer to the reader as 'Yuu' - if you so choose, replace Yuu with your own name.

You are hereby invited to Scarabia Dorm for a Grand Feast hosted by the Dorm Warden, Kalim Al-Asim, as my personal guest. Please, arrive at 6:00 P.M. or earlier if possible. I am hoping you will attend & I am looking forward to seeing you, Prefect. ~ Signed, Jamil Viper - Scarabia's Vice Dorm Warden

It all started with that invitation.

An Invitation from the Vice Dorm Warden of Scarabia, Jamil Viper, for you to come to Scarabia for one of Kalim's Parties and join them for the Grand Feast that would come after the party; Jamil always made amazing food and Grim was insistent that the two of you attended the party so the chimera could stuff his face with the delicatable delicates from the Land of Scalding Sands.

You took time to actually make yourself presentable for the party, wearing a crimson dress shirt with black pants and completed with black shoes before you tended to your hair and brushed any dust or loose hair off your shirt before grabbing your fully charged phone and placed it on your pocket before Grim jumped on your shoulder and the two of you walked out of Ramshackle, making sure to lock the door behind you and placing the key inside of a fake rock before heading to the Hall of Mirrors before walking into Scarabia's Mirror, the fainted warmth of the setting sun hitting your face a bit harder than it was in your own territory.

"Prefect." A very familiar voice called out to you, causing you to turn your head in the direction of Scara'bias Dorm, seeing the Vice Dorm Warden walking over to you wearing Scarabia's Uniform with his hood over his head.

"Jamil-senpai, it's good to see you. Thank you for the invitation." You smiled at the Viper Dorm Warden as he looked at you up and down, taking in your visage before he remained silent for a while, "Senpai, is something wrong?"

"Scarabia's Colors look good on you, Prefect." Jamil said before he returned the smile - a rare sight that Jamil only showed you ever since you foiled his attempted coup of Scarabia and saved him from his Overblot Episode; ever since that day, he found himself attached to you.

He was comfortable being himself around you, and you didn't judge him nor blame him for his past mistakes. In fact, you helped him regain his reputation among the student body and also made sure he took time for self-care. There were times when you even looked after Kalim, realizing that Jamil was overworking himself and needed a break. He knew better than to argue with you, given your impressive record of defeating four Overblots despite being magicless.

"Thank you, Jamil-senpai; I thought it would be fitting to wear Scarabia Colors to a Scarabian Event." You smiled at him.

"Have you ever considered wearing those colors permanently?" Jamil asked.

"Huh?" You questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Surely you haven't forgotten about that conversation we had a few days ago, Yuu. Have you ever considered my offer?" Jamil asked with a raised eyebrow.

You recalled the conversation you had with Jamil during one of your late-night Mancala matches a few nights ago when you stayed over at Scarabia Dorm after a study session that lasted too long.

The night was young but the inhabitants of Scarabia Dorm were tucked away in their dorms, resting up for the sun to rise in a few hours for them to start their days over again; well, one inhabitant and a visitor were still wide away. Grim was sleeping on the softest pillow he could find in Scarabia's Lounge while The Vice Dorm Warden of Scarabia & Prefect of Ramshackle were sitting on soft pillows with the Mancala game before them; the two of them had completed their weekly study session but it got so late into the night & Grim ended up falling asleep. You didn't have the heart to wake up the sleeping chimera and Jamil offered you a room in Scarabia's Dorm - the same room you stayed in during Scarabia's 'Training Camp'. Ironic, isn't it?

"I'm honestly surprised that you decided to remain in Scarabia after our study session, Yuu." Jamil said while making his move on the game board.

"It's not that big of a deal - I'm mostly at Scarabia when I am not at Ramshackle, in class, or tending to Crowley's Tasks." You exhaled before making your move on the Mancala Board, "Honestly, Scarabia is almost like a 2nd Home to me."

"Second Home? Why not a 3rd Home?" Jamil asked.

"Home is where the heart is, Jamil. It's a place where you feel appreciated and loved. I never really felt 'loved' in my Original World. It was more like I was being tolerated and my efforts were never really appreciated. Ramshackle is the first place I consider home because it belongs to me and Grim. It's a place of my own where I can have my own peace. Scarabia, on the other hand, feels like 'coming home.' You, Kalim, and the other students of Scarabia are kind of like the family I never had but always wanted." You explained while waiting for Jamil to make a move, but he continued to gaze upon you with wide eyes.

"If that is truly how you feel... If coming to Scarabia Dorm is like coming home for you... Why don't you stay?" Jamil asked, causing you to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

'What do you mean??" You asked him.

"I wanted to talk to you about something important. Have you considered becoming an official member of Scarabia Dorm? Kalim and the other members have spoken about it and we would all love to have you here permanently. I have the paperwork ready for a Dorm Transfer, with Kalim's and Headmage Crowley's signatures. All it needs is yours. Please sign it and become a part of Scarabia Dorm. We would welcome you with open arms, Yuu." Jamil looked into your eyes with a smile on his face; his works were genuine.

You looked down at the Mancala Board - Jamil's Words echoing in your head.

"Jamil-senpai, we talked about this: If I was meant to be in Scarabia, the Dark Mirror would have placed me in Scarabia." You explained but that caused Jamil to frown.

"The Dark Mirror was unable to assign you to one of the seven Dorms because it detects magic, and you don't possess any magical abilities, Yuu. Had you been from Wonderland or possessed magical powers, the mirror would have placed you in Scarabia. However, your exceptional intelligence and performance in dealing with the Overblots, despite being from a different world, indicates that you would excel in the Sorcerer of the Sands' Domain. You are meant to be here with us, Yuu."Jamil held out his hand to you, "Come home to us, Al'akh Al'ashghar."

'Al'akh Al'ashghar? What does that...?' You thought before another voice called out to Jamil and you.

"Yuu! Grim! You guys made it here!" Kalim walked out of the dorm and waved over to the Prefect of Ramshackle, causing you to walk around Jamil and walk over to the Walking Ball of Sunshine of Scarabia and give him a hug. Kalim grabbed you by your hand and pulled you away from Jamil who just stood there for a while to be alone with his thoughts before a smile crept along his face as he turned and started walking towards the dorm building.

'I have a very important feast to create.'

Grim rested on your shoulder as everyone sat in the Lounge Room while waiting for Jamil to finish making the food for the feast; Kalim was telling them about how Jamil helped him with his studying and he was able to get a high grade on his most recent test thanks to the Vice Dorm Warden. You sat there while Grim was talking to Kalim about the food Jamil was making but your mind kept going back to what Jamil said before you came into the dorm - his words gave you one message but the tone of his voice, was as if it was hiding another message.

And that name he called you: Al'akh Al'ashghar

You opened your mouth to ask Kalim the meaning of that name, certain that it was found in the Land of Scalding Sands, but before the words could leave your lips - Jamil and several Scarabia Students walked into the Lounge Roo. with serving platters of food and drinks, but Jamil was carrying two smaller platters in his hands: one for Kalim and the other for you. Grim leaped off your head and joined the other Scarabia Students in their feasting while Jamil placed the personal platters in front of you and Kalim; Jamil smiled at you before placing a drink next to your food and another for Kalin - your couple was made of pure silver rather than the gold and it had your name engraved in the side.

"A Gift. For everything you have done for Scarabia." Jamil said before taking his seat next to Kalim to start eating his own food.

You looked at the dish Jamil set in front of you and picked up your spoon before starting to eat; it was divine in texture and taste, just like everything else Jamil made. You continued to eat before you felt your throat getting dry from the spices used in the meat reached to grab your silver cup and took a drink of the tea before swallowing it to soothe your throat; the relief soon came and you continued to eat.

*COUGH*

*COUGH*

*COUGH*

"Prefect, that is a rather violent cough. Are you okay?" Jamil asked as he look up from his meal with concern on his face.

"I'm fine. It's just some spices got caught in my throat and..." You were cut off by another round of violent coughing, you covered your mouth and removed it to get some air in your lungs when your air seemed to get thinner.

"PREFECT! YOUR HAND!" One of the Scarabia Students called out in panic, causing you to look at your hand and your eyes got wide with the same horror - Blood stained your palm and fingers.

Soon enough, your air supply was completely cut off; you grabbed your throat as you tried to breathe but nothing was going in and nothing was coming out - it was as if you were drowning as you threw yourself back and landed on the pillows behind you as you scratched at your throat.

"POISON! HE'S BEEN POISONED!"

"HOLD ON, I HAVE AN ANTIDOTE!"

Your vision was getting blurry but you could barely make out Jamil's face as he pulled a vial of amber liquid from somewhere on his person and held it to your lips.

"Come on, drink this for me, Al'akh Al'ashghar; I'm here for you. I'm going to help you. Drink for me." Jamil's voice seemed to echo but your body seemed to obey his plead without you thinking about it as your mouth opened and the liquid from the vial went down your throat and slowly opened the blocked passage, allowing the air to flow into your aching burning lungs.

However, the air to your brain was low and you were slowly losing consciousness, but you could make out the last words Jamil said before your world faded into darkness.

"I have you now, Al'akh Al'ashghar"

'What does... that mean?' You thought before you closed your eyes.

And then, you knew no more as you floated in the void of your subconsciousness.

[TO BE CONTINUED IN PART TWO]

[hrrtshape]

THINGS I'M DOING IN MY FAME DR.

⋆ vogue photoshoots, especially when on the cover😫. annually, darling, even monthly. each edition, new icon spread. château gardens, mountain tops, venetian canals.

⋆ headlining international tours, performing to packed stadiums (and intimate venues alike).

⋆ attending VIP events in my official ambassador for Hermès outfits.... who's this diva??

⋆ interviews on shows like the tonight show, sharing stories and bewitching the crowds.

⋆ going to events such as the met gala or the cannes film festival in my custom or archival gowns.

⋆ red carpets being the talk of fashion twitter. winning awards left and right and looking like glamour walked out of the dictionary.

⋆ leaving iconic hotels like the ritz, dripped in van cleef diamonds, wrapped in valentino gowns. flashes everywhere. cocked out, but let's not dwell on that...

⋆ private island escapes with just my inner circle.

⋆ doing live streams with my equally iconic best friends, cooking or baking or just laughing meanwhile everyone and their mothers joins to watch ?????!?!?!?

⋆ doing beauty secrets with vogue and everyone dying to get their hands on the products i use.

⋆ being spotted with a male or female... celebrity that everyone wants sooooo bad meanwhile i'm the one being clung on.

⋆ doing the letterboxd top 4 on a red carpet. well, yes !

⋆ having my own runway walk.

⋆ doing those fancy 73 questions videos in my LA home.

⋆ forgetting my lines during a movie and ending up impro it and it ends up being sooo good.

⋆ watching thousands of edits of me. this diva...

⋆ starting trends and everyone trying to replicate them...but, like, you can't outdo the doer??

⋆ my celebrity crushes. 😋

⋆ being absolutely no where to be found after something a bit scandalous. vanished off the face of the earth (meditating in one of those fancy shmancy ibiza's resorts). and then a few months later releasing an album which blowsssssss up. blows. records? broken. shattered. well, yes.

⋆ champagne fuelled yacht parties. summer days in capri, yacht-hopping with friends, dressed 'n' dancing in vintage gucci bikinis and oversized shades. living life like i'm in a black-and-white fellini film.

⋆ one of the male leads stepping out of a car on a red carpet with lip marks all around and me stepping out behind all giggly and tipsy. yes?? hello? give it to me.

⋆ exclusive interviews with fashion magazines.

⋆ walking around the louvre at night (it's giving that one kendall jenner ig post. but. more. iconic. YES!)

⋆ directors rewriting scripts, offering absolute diva conditions just to get me on their newest films.

⋆ rare chanel, archival givenchy, one-of-a-kind galliano.. when seen in public; trust, it's in pieces no one else can get.

⋆ iconic, unparalleled birthday bashes — always with a special theme. eyes wide shut, marie antoinette, rock legends. you know you're in when you get an invitation 🙂‍↔️

remember. you shift in seconds 🤫

[blueesnow]

Kurosaki Ranmaru's Birthday (Year 1) Voicelines Translation.

-You can look at it again on the Event Log, Mini-Event section (for the other boys messages to him) and Talk section (for a one-on-one conversation with you and him) in Idol Page.

-Also the translations might not be fully accurate since I'm not that fluent on jp/en, so if i ever made a mistake do correct me🙏

<You (Player)> Ranmaru: You're such a disciplined person to go out of your way here just to celebrate my birthday. …Well, I guess it's not that bad. Thanks. Ranmaru: Huh? What do I want, you ask? …The answer is only one. Accompany me for this whole day. That's what I want, more than anything.

<Otoya> Otoya: Ranmaru-senpai, Happy Birthday! I'll be playing guitar for you as a birthday gift! You're more than welcome to join in! Ranmaru: Haha, that's quite a clever offer. Sure, I'll take you up on it. But you better make sure you lead properly for today, 'kay?

<Masato> Masato: I wish you a Happy Birthday. That part of Kurosaki-san who is willing to be independent and carve out a path for himself on his own, I totally admired and respected it. Ranmaru: This guy is always stiff and serious as ever… But well, thanks. You should also be true to your heart and live your life to the fullest.

<Natsuki> Natsuki: Happy Birthday! All of the cats in the back alley were also celebrating too y'know~ Fufu, what a popular guy. Ranmaru: Those stray cats… Oh well, it can't be helped. I'll go and bring them some dried sardines later. By the way, thanks for the birthday wish.

<Tokiya> Tokiya: Kurosaki-san's passion and dedication to singing has always been inspiring me. I wish you a Happy Birthday. Ranmaru: If I'm going to do something, then I sure as hell will be doing it for real. Aren't we all similar in one way or another? I can definitely feel that passion in you.

<Ren> Ren: Happy Birthday! I would love to have us compete with each other's passion on the stage more often. Ranmaru: To think there'd be a time when I hear such words coming out of your mouth. Sure, I'll take you seriously whenever you want.

<Syo> Syo: Happy Birthday! I had a lot of fun eating out together with you, Senpai. If you don't mind, may I invite you again sometime? Ranmaru: Sure. If I recall, there's a place you and I haven't been there yet. I'll contact you about it later so check your phone, 'kay.

<Cecil> Cecil: I wish you a Happy Birthday! I prepared you a large onigiri for today's celebration! It's filled with meat! Ranmaru: Oh man, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Thanks for all the trouble. I'll definitely eat this with all my heart.

<Reiji> Reiji: Ran-Ran, Happy Birthday! We've been together for a very long time now, haven't we~ I'm in your care from tomorrow onwards☆ Ranmaru: Sure. In exchange, you'll be buying me a meal for today, 'kay. Aa~h, I'm so hungry for some delicious food.

<Ai> Ai: Happy Birthday. Make sure you don't overeat too much for today, okay? Since you'll be getting a lot of foods from everyone. Ranmaru: Good grief, and that's according to your speciality analysis I assume? But well, thanks I guess. You can have some of my food if you want.

<Camus> Camus: Happy Birthday. I hope you can at least keep quiet for today… Ranmaru: Either you want to celebrate me or belittle me, you better choose one. Damn it, I still can't accept that this guy is actually younger than me.

<Eiichi> Eiichi: Happy Birthday. I'm lucky to have you as a rival to compete for the top. Let me say my thanks to you. Ranmaru: Good grief, you and your big talk. Your music ain't that bad, I give it to you. We also don't have any intention losing to you either.

<Kira> Kira: Happy…Birthday. If there's a chance…I'd like to talk about piano rock with you. Ranmaru: Oh yeah now that I think about it, you play piano didn't you. It seems like I can have a bit of good discussion with you. I'm looking forward to it. Thanks.

<Nagi> Nagi: Happy Birthday☆ You slept at the studio the other day, didn't you~? Nagi was clearly watching after all☆ Ranmaru: Isn't it obvious to take a rest on your sleeping time. Eat when you're hungry, and sleep when you're sleepy. You should also make sure to note that in your head.

<Eiji> Eiji: It's your birthday today, right? Happy Birthday. I was deeply moved when I saw your bass performance the other day… Ranmaru: Heh, looks like you and I could get along well. I also thought that your singing was actually pretty good. Thanks for the birthday wish.

<Van> Van: Happy Birthday! I heard that it's your birthday today. I watched your music talk on TV the other day. It's really intriguing. Ranmaru: Oh, that program show. It's not that big of a deal to keep up with it. But well, I guess it's only natural when you make a living with music itself.

<Yamato> Yamato: A powerful and strong performance is good, isn't it. It means that the result of your hard work is paid off. Don't forget to practice even if it's your birthday today. Ranmaru: Heh, you sure knew your stuff. I already went for a run today, and I also plan to do some training later too.

<Shion> Shion: Happy Birthday. I heard that you have a talent for sleeping. It is said that you can sleep dexterously anywhere with ease… Ranmaru: Who the hell is spreading such a rumour… Oh well, it's not a big deal. Thanks for the birthday wish.

[pandomech]

I absolutely love making lists and the idea of Kipperlily Copperkettle killing the rest of the High Five Heroes to turn them Rage Star controlled is eating at my brain so here is my list of the one by one deaths of the High Five Heroes and some prologue for the events as a whole. Kipperlily is groomed by Porter due to her known anger issues as well as the known dislike of the bad kids from the group as a whole, eventually leading to her accepting the path of rage on her own, this allows the High Five Heroes to start grinding on higher level monsters than just rats and other low level monsters off the books explaining the time where it was thought Lucy Frostblade was going to be Ankarna's Champion. Porter then sets the plan to Rage Star the entire group and has Kipperlily deal with them.

First is Ruben Hopclap, due to his laidback nature normally he likes to pick on Kipperlily, siding against her just to see her mad for fun, maybe in hopes she will chill out and due to this she goes for him first. While he is isolated, Kipperlily sneak attacks him, a deep stab into his shoulder, he's still alive, a panicked scream rings out as the knife is pulled and then attempted to be plunged back in, as he is able to turn and try to struggle, a hand pushing against her face as he tries to make out the melody to cast a spell, his voice is to shaky to do the proper vocal components, he was never in this type of danger before, a knife enters his head as he dies. He is the first to die being afraid he quickly accepts the offer of revival, not knowing what he signs and slowly loses his memory while under the Rage Star's control.

Then is Oisin Hakinvar and Ivy Embra, they were always teaming up to get what they wanted in votes, it was so annoying to Kipperlily, she had no help in this party and she was going to get the majority now. They were together like always when Kipperlily and Ruben attacked, Ruben casting something to restrain Ivy as she would be harder to take down compared to a wizard as Kipperlily went after Oisin, a swift dagger and he was already down, Ivy watched completely stuck as Kipperlily turned to her, Ivy can't close her eyes as her own throat is slit. Both are offered revival, both accept as what other option is there, the amount of time between Ruben and their deaths is the reason they remember that bit more after the Rage Star's effects.

Next is Mary Ann Skuttle, she never explained anything, that was so infuriating, if she just said why if any of them said why maybe it would help Kipperlily to understand but no, none of them were any help, and now Kipperlily would hear her speak. She was just buying soda from the vending machine again, like always, but this time no one seemed to be around thanks to the help from some teachers, a stab into her back, shocked eyes as she twisted around, Kipperlily was spun around with her, as the three others attacked as well, despite the shock no screams came out, how annoying defying her until the end of her stupidly silent life. When revival was offered she sighed then accepted who could choose anything else, remembering mostly everything after was fine, life could go back to being the same.

Finally Lucy Frostblade, she was always early to the monster grind spot, Porter had destroyed the trees nearby overtime, who cared about trees, it was finally time to get control with her favorite for last. Lucy greeted the others as they arrived, only to be confused as they seemed different, a knife flew to her throat, she dodged barely as the others started battle, a Monster conjured, an arrow flew for her head, unfamiliar rock music started up, all as she ran, a dagger flew into her leg, an arrow cut her shoulder, she thought of all the magic she could cast to try to fight back, get away, she couldn't bring herself to fight her friends or even run from them, she healed herself as Mary Ann tackled her, the monster stomped on her leg as she screamed asking what's wrong with them, Kipperlily sliced her throat, not wanting her to suffer any longer, she'd be back soon anyways. The offer of revival was offered, the pros and cons explained, Lucy stared back, not wanting to become like her brainwashed friends, not wanting to abandon her god, not wanting any part of this anymore she refused, of course not, in what world would anyone accept, as she waited alone for a new offer of life to come. Meanwhile Kipperlily watched as she wouldn't get back up screaming for her to awake like all the others, turning to Porter with fury, going to yell in anger only to yell in pain as she even thought of defying him, she turned back to look at Lucy, no tears left as she and the Rat Grinders left as well, they'd need a new Cleric.

Buddy came, Buddy died, was revived like the others, he was the newest, Kipperlily has no grievances about ending his life. He was released of the Rage Star with all his memories of it's control in tact, the control seemed so natural that he didn't even waver when he made a brand new god, nor when he and Bakarath were meet by Kalina.

Kipperlily lies somewhere in hell, burning, screaming with rage, she didn't deserve this fate, she was just getting what she deserved, why was she here.

Lucy was revived after being moved from the empty abyss of rage to Kristen's personal afterlife, She wanted to get to her friends, talk to them, they were brainwashed after all, who could blame them for their actions.

... and that's my brainrot on full display, I've been thinking of these collective moments since the end of the season, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed the angst, have an amazing day.

[sleeplesssmoll]

yet another question because i like your analyses ... what do you consider to be vertin's love language? what's her favourite to give and what's her favourite to receive. also can i ask the same for sonetto and schneider

The way my brain works is it latches into certain personality traits or in game events and then tries to find context in game to deepen these ideas/theories. A lot of these ideas end up getting exaggerated and honestly a new piece of in-game lore could change how I feel about them. Ngl, I started getting self-indulgent with this one. With that little disclaimer out of the way, here we go!

Vertin as the giver: The Provider

She can be over the top with her grand displays of affection, but Vertin will love you like she is going to lose you. Due to the Storm, she very well might.

Physical touch! Especially holding hands or touching people's hair. this post has all evidence your honor.

Providing for / fulfilling desires. Will spoil her loved ones rotten.

Your happiness is her happiness, but that also means your dissatisfaction/sadness/anger is her failure.

Will support your ideas, dreams, and from time to time, your mischief.

Will compliment and praise you. Cheesy but endearing.

Doesn't like mornings, but will always wake up with you.

If you say you lie about not wanting food (she can tell), she'll order more than she can eat by herself and ask you for "help". She always orders food with the intention of sharing

Wants to take you on trips and try new things together.

Attentive to your reactions and body language. It seems like she can read your mind at times, which makes things easier. Unfortunately, you can't read hers...

Vertin as the recipient: Comfortable as a Lover, Uncertain as the Loved.

In her mind, she is the one who is supposed to be providing for you so when someone does “too much” for her, she feels like she's taking advantage of them or letting them down in some way

Will hardly ask for anything aside from occasional favors. However, she'll always accept gifts no matter how bizarre or dangerous. Give her a rock and she'll treasure it in her room. Ugly shirt as a gag gift? She'll definitely wear it.

Likes to be involved and engaged in activities alongside you. Invite her to do things you're interested in/hobbies 

Unlike Smoltin, the Timekeeper doesn't share many of her interests. She's too busy accomodating the needs of others. Ask her to play the piano or that you'd like to see her paintings. This will create an opportunity for her to open up about things she likes under the guise of doing a service for you. Really, it'll benefit both parties. NOTE: rejecting these aspects of her or dismissing her when she tries to share something with you is a big no-no. She'll stop trying to open up. (Smoltin would keep trying, but the Timekeeper will respect your perceived disinterest)

While she can "read your mind", confirming your thoughts wouldn't hurt. Let her know you enjoy doing things together or if anything is bothering you. You opening up to her is a huge deal for her! She wants to do everything she can for you and having your trust means a lot to her.

Ironically, Vertin will never tell you “everything” and that's something you have to accept. It's not even a trust thing, but due to the way she perceives time. She values her time with you and doesn't want to ruin these precious moments with negativity since time is so fleeting. She'd rather stay positive in case that day happens to be your last day together.

If an argument does occur, Vertin is the one who gets banished to the couch. However, she usually offers on her own when she knows what's coming. Even when arguing, she still wants her loved one to be as cozy as possible. She won't allow them sleep on the couch. She doesn't like arguing and will try to make things better as soon as possible.

Sonetto as the giver: The Guard Dog

Loyalty and protectiveness (comes with possessiveness) . Will sacrifice herself for her loved ones.

Nurturing; despite people thinking she's always going to obey, Sonetto will tug on the leash if anything endangers her loved ones; including her loved ones themselves. Expect a “debate” (it's not really a debate because she won't budge until you yield) on why you need to take care of yourself or else she'll do it for you.

Clingy; Just wants to be close. Doesn't like being separated

Learning about you; she wants to be part of your life not just a bystander in it. Your favorite foods, colors, etc. She wants to know everything!

Putting up with a lot. She will follow you to hell and back. She won't approve a bad decision, but will stick around because she doesn't want you to get hurt.

Will learn new skills just to help you. If she can't do something for you now, she'll work to become someone who can in the future.

Sonetto as the Recipient: The Puppy

Wants physical intimacy but is sometimes uncertain on how to initiate. Hugs, hand-holding, kisses, she wants it all. Will initiate once she feels more confident.

Verbal praise! Let her know she's done well or compliment her.

Reaffirmation. Tell her you like her to remove doubts (you'd be surprised how powerful telling a loved one “I love you” is. Propaganda to tell an important person in your life you love them because you'll never know when the last day you can say it will come.)

Encourage her to embrace her curiosity and explore the world with her. Be patient with her as she figures things out. Even better, be proud of her.

Helping her with her crosswords in the newspaper is great for bonding time. Also likes to have meals together

Won't steal your food but she makes puppy eyes at you without realizing. Food will be shared both ways.

She likes poetry and books the most but she's happy to receive anything from her beloved.

Big doggy, but little spoon. This is one is purely self-indulgence because big doggies alway act like cuddly puppies. Puppnetto is Canon.

Will never banish her loved ones to the couch. She doesn't stay mad long enough for that and will want to cuddle even if she's angry. Her puppy eyes make her immune to banishment as well.

Schneider as the giver: Bloody Valentine

Will kill for you and die for you 

Will never keep her hands of the person she loves. PDA is imminent.

Flirty, playful, but likes to have serious and deeper conversations from time to time. This is a sign she likes you.

Clingy, but will disappear on you randomly to see if you chase her. Will reward you with lots of attention once you find her.

Will always choose her loved ones above all else

Schneider as the recipient: Wants The Love she Never Had

While she was the backbone for her family, she is a spoiled brat with her beloved. Attention, thoughtful gifts & gestures, and everything else she didn't have as a child (or had to earn herself) are expected.

Schneider values Stability and Loyalty in her partners. Despite her tough talk, she spent a majority of her life providing shelter for her family and dragging them out of poverty at her own expense. She wants someone who will stick beside her through thick and thin, despite the chaos in her life. NOTE: Sometimes she'll do something crazy just to see how her loved one would react

While she likes to tease and menace her loved ones, she will always remind them how much she loves them. She is someone who will prove it too.

Doesn't like to listen. She must be persuaded.

Dates to public places are fine, but when she's really into someone she'd rather spend more time alone with them.

Wants 6 kids, a dog, a cat, and a bird. She had 11 sisters! She's being reasonable here.

Is the one who keeps the bed and banishes people to the couch if she's mad. However, her loved ones will wake up in the middle of the night to find her sleeping against them on the couch. She loves you even when she can't stand you putting pineapple on pizza.

When it comes to food, what's yours is her's. Food thief! But, she'll be more than happy to feed you the same food she just nicked off your plate.

[instantezra]

Pumpkin, Pumpkin

Pairing: Danny Wagner x gn!Reader (tried to keep it gender neutral!)

Summary: PUMPKIN PATCH DATE WITH DANIEL WAGNER aka the dream

Content Warnings: this is just fluffy fluff but does contain some adult language (like, maybe one f word), use of y/n, possible grammatical errors cuz im lazy

Word Count: just under 3k

Author's Note: happy halloween bbs!! some of this is based on actual events i have experienced at a pumpkin patch and we all know the tiktok of fall danny so i hope you enjoy this mishmash of autumnal activities 🍂🎃 i can't come up w titles either so this is just cuz i have the song by the regrettes stuck in my head

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The county road had quickly turned from sunbleached pavement to gravel. Danny’s car jostled on the loose rocks, but you could barely even tell. It felt like your body was shaking from sheer excitement. A worn wooden sign with a big red arrow appeared at the bottom of the hill, indicating where the pumpkin patch entrance was.

Danny knew how much you loved fall; it was one of his favorite seasons, too. Both of you were adorned in your coziest fall sweaters. You had stopped at a gas station on the way to the rural attraction, and the heat from the cheap coffee in your hands added to the comfy vibe. You downed the rest of the drink as your boyfriend pulled into a parking spot in the large open lot.

The pumpkin patch was surprisingly slow that morning, but you weren’t complaining. The small family-owned farm felt like a hidden gem, and it had become sort of a tradition for you and Danny. You’d find a free weekend that worked for both of you, choose each other’s sweaters, make the hour-long trek to the pumpkin patch, and spend all day together outdoors.

The pumpkin patch sat on acres and acres of land, with multiple patches to walk through, along with a quaint little barn full of goodies. There were lawn games, a couple slides, a hay bale maze, and your favorite - the corn maze.

As soon as you hopped out of the car, you made a beeline towards the central barn. Danny laughed, jogging after you and snatching your hand up in his. You beamed up at him.

“So, what’s the game plan?” he asked, swinging your arms back and forth between you. “Get some snacks at the barn, maybe some hot apple cider?”

“Duh. Then I was thinking we should start with the corn maze.”

Inside the barn, you had to control Daniel’s urge to buy you everything you wanted. There were popcorn balls, bricks of homemade fudge, gallons of apple cider, and more flavors of honey sticks than you thought possible. He gravitated towards the fudge, graciously taking every sample the employee would offer. You joined him, deciding you’d have to buy some on your way out. Before tackling the corn maze, however, you needed some fuel.

“Two apple ciders, please.” Danny ordered drinks for the two of you as you perused the honey sticks. There was no going wrong with classic clover honey, so you grabbed a few of those. It was always fun to try the different fruits, so you grabbed a raspberry and orange. There were more unique flavors as well, like chocolate brownie and even a cinnamon Fireball. You ended up grabbing a few of the Fireball flavors - the Kiszka’s would probably want to try those later.

Danny struggled a few times to get his honey stick open. With your coaching and reminding him to put it between his molars, you knew he got it when a wide smile showed on his face. He ate a clover stick in one quick pull of his fingers. You bit down on a raspberry flavored stick and decided to savor it. Danny handed you your hot cider, and you followed him out of the barn.

“Where to next, sweets? Corn maze?” He peered at you through his amber sunglasses, taking a careful sip of the piping hot drink in his hand.

“Yes! Corn maze! Follow me!” You overtook his stride and started leading. The entrance to the maze had an adorable wooden standee of a scarecrow pointing towards where the corn parted. You weaved through the beginning, where it was much easier. Danny grabbed your hand and squeezed it gently, just happy to tag along. 

The maze changed every year, but you still had a pretty good intuition. It helped that there was a pretty well trodden path to follow. After quite a few twists and turns, you stopped at your first dead end. Danny took the opportunity (and privacy) to wrap his arms around you from behind, stopping you from turning around. It was innocent, but you felt heat rise to your cheeks as he placed a gentle kiss to the back of your head. Before you could turn around to face him, you heard a piercing meow come from the dense corn field in front of you.

“What was that?” Danny asked, letting you out of the embrace.

“It sounded like a meow. But a pretty distressed one,” you guessed, looking around frantically. The meow came again, this time sounding a bit closer. “I think there’s a kitten stuck in the maze. He got lost like us! Come here, little guy…” You bent down, trying to peer into the thicket of corn. Danny parted the dead end and tried to step in between the stalks, you closely following him.

A little ways in and you could see a flash of black dart between towering stalks. The poor thing couldn’t have been older than 8 weeks old, trying its best to hide but getting frightened. Danny stopped and lowered himself down to a squat.

“C’mere little guy. It’s okay…” His voice was soft and sweet. You joined in, kneeling next to him and putting your hand out slowly. With a gentle “pspsps” from both of you, the kitten stopped its frantic movement and let out a smaller, more normal mewl. “We aren’t gonna hurt you.” Danny reached his hand out as well, moving slowly to not scare the little creature more than it already was.

The kitten crept slowly towards you, coming up to your boyfriend’s hand and giving it a hesitant sniff. After a few smells and an agonizing time spent being still as a statue, there seemed to be a truce. Danny slowly reached out with his large hands and scooped the kitten up. You stood from your crouched position, watching him hold it with such care.

“Oh my god. We have to take it home, Dan, please? Pretty please?”

“Y/N…” he quirked an eyebrow up at you, cradling the kitten up into his chest. “I don’t think we can do a kitten right now. Besides, I think it’s more important to get this little guy outta here.” The kitten settled into Danny’s soft sweater, tucking its little pink nose into his chest. “What do you think, bud?”

“Wait… don’t move.” Without any sudden movements, you sneakily took your phone from your pocket. “This might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” Opening your camera app, you took an obscene amount of photos of your boyfriend holding the kitten. It turned into an impromptu photo session, the kitten getting more and more comfortable with Danny. He held it up against his cheek. Loud purrs were emanating from the kitty’s tiny fuzzy body. Danny gave a toothy grin to the camera, and you could feel your heart melting from the cuteness.

Danny handed you the kitten, snapping some photos with his phone of you absolutely losing it over its adorableness. You refused to give the kitten back, so Danny simply took your other hand and led you away from the corn maze’s dead end.

After a few more twists and turns, you found a well worn path in the dirt again. The kitten didn’t seem to mind being held anymore. If anything, it was probably grateful to have warmth and an easy way out of the maze. Danny pointed ahead at an opening, one that seemed to lead to the rest of the pumpkin patch. Going through the stalks of corn, you found the official exit.

With the kitten still in tow, the three of you made your way back to the central barn. Part of you wanted to hide the kitten in your shirt, keeping him as a stowaway. Daniel found an employee and asked about the kitten, explaining your whole adventure finding it.

“Oh we have a whole litter! Poor thing, he must have strayed a little too far from the barn! Thank you for finding him, they usually just play in the back there,” she explained, pointing towards a gate that closed off part of the barn from the public. In the back, you saw the rest of the litter. The kitten you found seemed to be the only black cat, as there were orange, calico, and gray kittens tumbling around on the concrete floor. Seeing his siblings, the kitten started wriggling in your arms.

“I think he wants to go play, Y/N.” Danny put one hand on your shoulder and scratched the kittens ears with his other. Begrudgingly, you planted a sweet kiss on it’s tiny forehead and set it gently on the ground. The kitten bounded through the bars of the gate, running for his littermates and tackling an orange kitten to the ground. Your heart swelled at the idea of having pets of your own with Danny. It was easy to imagine curling up together on the couch, a cat of your own padding its way across the couch to join the cuddling.

You had to turn away from the kittens in case your impulse control failed you, lest you become a cat-napper.

Danny took your hand and led you out of the barn to explore the pumpkin patch more. Near the barn were a few slides made of giant old plastic pipes. They seemed child-sized, but that still didn’t stop your giant boyfriend from trying one of them. You stood at the end of the slide, immediately pulling your phone out to record him. He yelled from the top, giving you a wave and a loud “whoop” and entered the tube. In an anticlimactic end, you heard him scooching himself down. You tried your best to keep the recording stable, but it was difficult with laughs wracking your entire body.

“Okay. Maybe I’m too big for these now. Not much of a slide.” His large frame was tucked in on itself as he tried to exit the bottom. You reached out a hand to help him up, but he gave it a kiss before hoisting himself onto his feet.

“So maybe the slides aren’t our speed. How about the hay bale maze?” You asked, walking towards the large round bales. They were configured in a labyrinthian shape, much simpler than the corn maze.

“Ohh fuck yes,” Danny said under his breath. He gave your hand a squeeze, let go of it, and immediately ran towards the start. Before you could follow him into the maze, he launched himself onto the hay bale itself. Ignoring all of the children staring, he clambered onto the top and stood proudly, flinging his arms out to the side. “Come join me, Y/N!”

Your eyes darted around, seeing if any employees were going to yell at him for climbing the bales instead of doing the maze as it was intended. A lone teen with a pumpkin patch vest on looked at Danny, looked at you, and shrugged, turning his attention back to raking leaves. That felt like some sort of permission, so you started to scale the hay bale.

Danny reached a hand down to help hoist you up. The hay bales were pretty big, over 5 feet tall and luckily firm enough to support two grown adults. You were grateful for wearing a comfortable pair of boots, because as soon as you were up and on your feet, Danny laughed and darted away. He jumped across the path to another haybale, clearing at least a gap of at least 4 feet. He held a hand out to you again, inviting you to make the jump.

Getting across the gap was slightly nervewracking, but you made it across and landed into Danny’s arms. He gave you a small squeeze then went back to jumping across the hay. You couldn’t help but giggle at him. As you and Danny played on the hay, the children that had been completing the labyrinth joined in. Soon, there were more people on top of the hay playing than there were doing the maze as intended. A young girl no more than 5 started chasing Danny, and he was more than happy to join in the game. You sat down, swinging your legs off the edge and watched the fun.

Seeing him let his inner child go free, jumping and giggling alongside the kids, made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It was nice to watch him bloom and grow on stage and as a musician, but moments like these reminded you why you truly loved him. He was himself, whoever that was – it was perfect for you.

After jumping on nearly every haybale and completing the maze from above, you sat down on top of one and plopped down onto your back. Danny bounded over to you, joining you in laying down and looking at the wide open sky. For being a crisp fall day, the warming sun was a welcome addition. A few wispy clouds rolled by here or there, but it was lovely just to lay together and simply exist for a bit. Your lover’s arms pulled you over onto his chest, rubbing small circles into your back as you cuddled on the hay.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed up there, but the sky darkened quickly with incoming clouds. Most of the children that had been playing with Danny had left to do other activities around the farm. With the clouds covering the sun, a chill settled in and your cute yet slightly-too-thin flannel wasn’t cutting it. You sat up and slid off the hay bale. Danny followed your cue, sliding off behind you and wrapping his arms around you.

“Ready to go home? It’s getting a little chilly,” he asked. While it was getting colder, you still hadn’t gotten any pumpkins - the sole point of a pumpkin patch!

“Let’s pick some pumpkins first, I wanna carve some with you tonight.”

“Of course, sweets. Let me get us a wheelbarrow.”

Danny came back moments later with the wheelbarrow. You turned on your heel towards the U-Pick patch, but Dan had a different plan. All of a sudden your feet left the ground, and you squealed. He picked you up and cradled you briefly before setting you in the empty wheelbarrow. Your legs barely fit, but bringing your knees up to your chest allowed you to sit semi-comfortably inside.

“Ready to go?”

“Daniel, how are we going to fit pumpkins if I’m in here?” you asked as he wheeled you into the patch.

“I’ll just put them on you, pumpkin.” You smiled and rolled your eyes at the silly pet name as he gave you a goofy grin. As he pushed you around, you scanned the remaining gourds on the ground. Some of them had already been ravaged by hungry birds and squirrels, while other were from the early season and already rotting. Row after row, there were mostly duds. You became discouraged that none of them would be the perfect pumpkin.

Danny stopped the wheelbarrow at the end of one of the rows, surveying the remainder of the field that you hadn’t looked at. As Danny walked up and down the path once again, just in case, you looked at the last row not yet explored. In the middle of the patch, a glimpse of orange caught your eye. You leaned up out of the wheelbarrow a bit, flinging your arm out and pointing.

“Danny! Over there!” He jogged back to you, grabbing onto the handles and moving you both towards a tangle of vines. Under the vines and leaves, there were two little pumpkins, almost the size of a basketball but just barely. He snagged them from their prickly stems. They were small enough that he could palm them with each hand, but they were free of any holes or mold or rot. Albeit a bit small, they were your perfect pumpkins.

With the pumpkins in your lap, Danny rolled you back to the barn. You hopped out of the wheelbarrow with his help and took your pumpkins inside. Danny chatted with the cashier as they priced the pumpkins. After briefly sneaking off, you came back with arms full of various flavors of fudge, popcorn balls, and plenty of snacks for the drive home. The cashier and Danny both laughed as you dumped your haul onto the counter proudly. Near the checkout, there were the small decorative pumpkins and gourds for sale, and you made sure to add some of those to the pile as well.

After Danny paid the cashier, he grabbed the sweets-filled paper bags under his arms as you toted the pumpkins out of the barn. Your boyfriend opened the trunk of his car, loading it with the pumpkins and food that you hadn’t designated for the drive home. Before he could close the door, you stopped him.

“Wait! I want to take a picture of our haul. Here, hold these.” At your request, Danny turned around to sit on the edge of the trunk. He proudly held the mini pumpkins and gave a gentle smile at the camera. You snapped a few pictures, grinning at how adorable he looked. Putting your phone back in your pocket, you leaned forward and your lips met Danny’s. He returned the kiss, standing from the trunk and backing you away so he could close it. It had been the perfect pumpkin patch day.

“Let’s get this stuff home and get to carving, hm? I’m thinking we light some candles, put on a movie…”

“That sounds perfect, Danny.”

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yippee! thank you for reading!! and as always my ask box is open and

[sunflowerabyss]

Charms of Fate: Chapter 14

Paring: Remus Lupin x Fem!Professor!Reader

Series Masterlist

Plot: Amidst the echoes of a bygone era, you return to Hogwarts years after parting ways with Hogwarts. What begins as a journey fueled by nostalgia transforms into an unexpected reunion with Remus Lupin, now a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. As the past intertwines with the present, the two former classmates navigate the complexities of grief, the resurgence of friendship, and the unwritten chapters of their shared history in this tale of rediscovery and the magic that binds them together.

A/N: Sorry, no Remus this chapter! Also, I want to apologize for the late post. Enjoy!

Taglist: @universallyblizzardlove

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"Professor!" you faintly hear. You don't know how long you've been there, lying on the ground, sticks and rocks uncomfortably digging into your back. With a groan, you sat up, feeling the blood drip down your face. "Professor, are you all right?" You look up to see Hermione, eyes wide and face etched with concern.

"Yeah," you began, pulling yourself up. "I'm fine."

"We need to go get Harry," she says. "He went after Sirius."

Gathering your resolve, you nod, a sense of urgency pushing you into action. "Ron, stay here and don't move," you instruct, your tone firm yet laden with worry. Hermione and you race towards the Great Lake, your steps quick and purposeful. As you reach the scene, the sight of Harry and Sirius not moving sends a chill down your spine.

"We need to be fast. Let me take care of levitating Harry. You keep an eye out for any more Dementors," Hermione suggests, her voice steady.

Nodding in agreement, you scan the surroundings, your wand at the ready. "Alright, but be quick. We can't afford to stay here for long."

Hermione concentrates, casting the levitation spell, and Harry hovers in the air, making the journey back to the castle more manageable.

As you and Hermione hurry back to the castle with the levitating Harry, a sense of unease lingers in the air. As you approach the entrance, you notice a group of people rushing towards the pond. Among them, you recognize the stern faces of Dumbledore, Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, and Cornelius Fudge.

The urgency of the situation is mirrored in their expressions, and your heart sinks as you realize they must have heard about the incident. The professors quickly take charge, organizing the transportation of Sirius and directing others to assist Harry.

"Professor (Y/N), what happened?" Professor McGonagall asks, her eyes searching for answers.

Before you can respond, Professor Dumbledore steps forward, his gaze filled with both concern and wisdom. "We will tend to the situation at hand. In the meantime, please, all of you accompany us to the infirmary."

You nod, as you, Hermione, and Ron fall in step with Dumbledore and Minerva as you make your way to the hospital wing. The gravity of the recent events hangs heavy in the air, and your thoughts whirl with the implications of what has transpired.

As you and Hermione accompany Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore to the infirmary, you can't help but cast a sorrowful glance behind you. The sight of Sirius being taken away by others leaves a pang of sadness in your chest.

Once in the infirmary, the medical team swiftly tends to Harry's unconscious form, Ron's ankle, and Hermione's minor injuries. Professor Dumbledore turns to you, his eyes filled with both understanding and concern. "Professor (Y/N), we will address your injuries as well. It's important that you receive the care you need."

You offer a grateful nod but insist, "I can take care of my own wounds. Please focus on the students, they need it more than I."

Professor McGonagall steps forward, her demeanor reflecting both professionalism and motherly. "Rest assured, we will tend to everyone. But if you insist, please ensure you seek medical attention as soon as possible."

You watch as Madam Pomfrey and her medical team work efficiently, realizing the heaviness of the night's events. The infirmary becomes a hub of activity, and in the disarray, you silently hope for the well-being of those you care about.

In the secluded corner where you've sought refuge from the bustling of the infirmary, the dim light accentuates the weariness etched upon your features. The air is heavy with the lingering aftermath of the night's chaos. With a determined stride, you embark on a quest for a mirror.

As you face your reflection, you speak the incantation "Vulnera Sanentur" with a resonance that carries the weight of fatigue. The magical words weave through the air, caressing your wounds in a dance of careful light. The mirror bears witness to this intricate exchange between incantation and healing.

Hermione, with her ever-watchful eyes, quietly approaches, her footsteps echoing in the hushed atmosphere. "Professor, you know if you don't use dittany, it'll scar, right?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.

Your eyes meet hers through the mirror's reflection.

"I know, Miss Granger."

________________________________________________

"I saw my dad," was the first thing Harry said as he came to.

"What?" Hermione asks, leaning over the bed.

"I saw him across the lake," Harry continued.

"Listen, Harry," you began, "they captured Sirius. Any minute, the dementors are going to perform the Kiss."

"You mean they're gonna kill him?" Harry asks, hurriedly getting out of the bed.

"No it's worse, much worse," Hermione said. "They're going to suck out his soul."

At the sound of the infirmary doors being opened, you all turned to see Dumbledore walking towards you. Hermione, along with Harry walk up to him.

"Headmaster, you have to stop them. They've got the wrong man!" Hermione said, panic in her voice.

"It's true, sir," you interjected, "Sirius is innocent."

"It's Scabbers who did it," Ron shouted from his bed, his injured leg propped up.

"Scabbers?" Albus questioned.

"He's my rat, sir. He's not really a rat. Uh, well, he was a rat. He was my brother Percy's rat. But then they gave him an owl, then I got--"

"Point is, we know the truth," Hermione interrupted. "Please believe us."

"I do, Miss Granger," Albus assured, "but I'm sorry to say, the word of three thirteen-year-old wizards and one Professor will convince few others."

The bell tolls.

"Mysterious thing, time. Powerful. And when meddled with...dangerous. Sirius Black is in the topmost cells of the Dark Tower. You know the laws, Miss Granger, Professor. You must not be seen. And you would do well, I feel, to return before the last chime. If not, the consequences are exceedingly dangerous. If you succeed tonight, more than one innocent life may be spared. Three turns should do it, I think," Albus says mysteriously, a twinkle in his eye as he winks. He turns to leave before adding, "Oh and by the way, when in doubt, I find retracing my steps to be a wise place to start." He closes the door.

"What the bloody hell was all that about?" Ron asks, incredulously.

"Sorry, Ron, but seeing as you can't walk..." Hermione says, reaching under her jacket, pulling out a necklace. She turns to you. "Professor, would you mind accompanying us?" You say nothing but walk closer as she places the chain around you and Harry. He attempts to grab at it as Hermione begins turning the small, hourglass-shaped pendant. You swat at his hand.

The world around you starts to blur, and you feel a disorienting sensation as if being pulled backward through time. In the blink of an eye, the infirmary transforms. You can hear talking, but it sounds muffled and like gibberish and it hurts your head. You feel your eyes roaming, crossing as you try to keep up with all of the sudden movement around you. You shift your eyes to the Time Turner.

You find yourselves back in the same infirmary, but it's different. The atmosphere is charged with a sense of déjà vu. There is no one around aside from the three of you and you find the sun rising up in the sky.

"What just happened? Where's Ron?" Harry asked, confused as he looked around.

"7:30. Where were we at 7:30?" Hermione questions, ignoring Harry's confusion.

"I was at Hagrid's around 7," you offer, heading out of the infirmary. "Come on. And we can't be seen."

The three of you break out into a run until you find yourselves seeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione, along with Draco and his little posse. Hermione looks mad as you watch her yell at Draco. You look in amusement at the blonde boy cowering in fear as she presses her wand against his throat.

"Can someone please tell me what's going on?" Harry asks.

Hermione pushes Harry back and pulls out the necklace. "This is a Time Turner, Harry," she says. "McGonagall gave it to me first term. It's how I've been getting to all of my lessons."

"You mean, we've gone back in time?" Harry gulped.

"Yes, Harry, that's exactly what it means" you state. "It's a magical instrument that allows the witch or wizard using it to travel through time. Each turn of the hourglass represents one hour backward in time."

"Obviously, Dumbledore wanted us to come back to this very moment," Hermione adds, "there's something we need to change."

You all watch as Hermione draws her arm back and punches little Malfoy in the nose. You smirk. "Remind me to reward ten points to Gryffindor." You all let out a giggle before you see Draco and his friends heading your way, causing you all to quickly hide.

Once the coast is clear, you all follow the past Harry, Hermione, and Ron, careful not to be seen.

You, Hermione, and Harry crouch behind the towering pumpkins, peering cautiously toward Hagrid's hut. The scene unfolds like a ghostly reflection of the past, and you can't help but feel the weight of the impending events.

"Why aren't we leaving?" you inquire, puzzled as you watch your past self, Harry, Hermione, and Ron lingering near the hut as Dumbledore, Fudge, and the executioner draw closer.

Hermione, ever resourceful, spots a couple of rocks nearby. With a swift, accurate throw, one sails through the window of Hagrid's hut, followed by another that inadvertently hits past Harry in the back of the head.

"Ow, that hurt!" he exclaims, rubbing the back of his head. Hermione, focused on the plan, absentmindedly apologizes.

Your past selves exit the hut in response to the commotion, prompting you, Hermione, and Harry to slip behind the cover of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. Hidden in the shadows, you wait with bated breath for the trio from the past to move away. Observing your past actions, you exchange glances with Hermione and Harry; the scene is both familiar and surreal.

You, Hermione, and Harry move stealthily toward Buckbeak. Much to your horror, the door to Hagrid's hut opens, causing you all to stop in your tracks. With a cautious glance towards the hut, you ensure that Dumbledore, Hagrid, Fudge, and the executioner remain engrossed in their discussion. Their voices murmur in the distance, providing cover for your clandestine mission.

Approaching Buckbeak, you feel the thrill of the clandestine adventure tinged with the weight of the consequences that loom. Hermione whispers instructions, her voice barely audible in the hushed atmosphere.

Harry keeps a watchful eye on the adults, ensuring they remain distracted. Hermione, with her characteristic precision, takes the lead in freeing Buckbeak, quick to find dead ferret that can be used to lure the hippogriff into the forest. Harry pulls on the chain that hold the magical being, while Hermione uses the ferret as bait, you following behind to make sure Buckbeak moves along.

The distant conversation of the adults continues, oblivious to your covert operation. The thrill of success mingles with the gravity of the situation – a delicate dance in the web of time, where each step taken could reshape the course of destiny.

After wrapping the chain around a tree, making sure Buckbeak stays put, you all run to the outskirts of forest before finding a clearing that sees out to the Whomping Willow.

In the dimly lit clearing, you and your students observe Remus casting the Immobulus spell on the aggressive branches of the Whomping Willow. Your heart aches witnessing the aftermath of the recent events, and an underlying restlessness stirs within you. All you yearn for is to find peace in Remus's arms once the ordeal subsides.

As you watch Remus slip under the tree, Snape's sudden appearance trailing behind Remus doesn't escape your notice, adding an extra layer of tension to the unfolding scene.

Harry's casual remark, "And now we wait," breaks the silence, and the trio settles into a patient vigil. In the quietude, Harry reflects on a peculiar encounter – witnessing his father's Patronus. Hermione, ever the voice of reason, questions the possibility of such an occurrence, considering Harry's father's demise. Harry, undeterred, insists that he saw what he saw.

Turning the conversation toward your shared past, Harry queries about your experiences with his parents during your time at Hogwarts.

"I was quite close to your mother since our first year at Hogwarts," you began. "I didn't get close with James, Remus, or Sirius, until the end of our sixth year. Your mother couldn't stand James, but he was such a charmer and she fell in love anyway." You smiled, thinking about the late-night conversations in the common room.

"They were the kindest, genuine people I have ever known. Always there to give you the shirt off their back," you continue. "They made Hogwarts feel like home."

As Harry listens to your tales of his parents, a mixture of sadness and curiosity colors his expression. "They sound amazing," he says wistfully, his eyes reflecting a longing for a connection to the parents he never got the chance to know.

"They truly were," you reply with a fond smile. "Lily was a brilliant and compassionate witch, and James, well, he was a bit of a troublemaker but had a heart of gold."

Harry nods, absorbing every word as if trying to fill the gaps left by the absence of his parents. "Do you think they'd be proud of me?" he asks, the vulnerability in his voice palpable.

Without hesitation, you respond, "Absolutely, Harry. They always have been. I remember the first day I saw you. It was a week after you were born. Remus and I went up there to see Lily and James' baby boy. You were their world. They would be incredibly proud of the person you've become. You carry their legacy with strength and courage." You look at him and see his eyes reflecting a longing for a connection to the parents he never got the chance to know. A subtle smile spreads across Harry's face, a mix of gratitude and reassurance.

"Here we come," Hermione says, ruining the peaceful moment.

The moonlight bathes the Forbidden Forest in an eerie glow as you, Harry, and Hermione rewatch the unfolding scene. Remus' transformation is both haunting and heart-wrenching, and you can't help but flinch as the memories of being in the midst of that chaos flood back.

As Remus, now a werewolf, starts advancing towards the trio, you instinctively cup your hands around your mouth and emit a resonant howl.

Harry looks at you in confusion. "What are you doing?" he, asks, questioning your actions.

"Saving your lives," you reply, your voice resolute, before letting out another howl.

Remus, in his werewolf form, responds with a howl of his own, and you hear the ominous sound of his approach. "He's coming this way," Harry warns. Panic sets in as you realize the unintended consequence of drawing Remus towards you.

"Yeah, I didn't think about that. Run!" you urgently instruct, and the three of you dash deeper into the forest, the werewolf hot on your heels.

Leaves crunch underfoot, and you can feel Remus's breath dangerously close behind you. Panting, you urge Harry and Hermione to push against a tree, circling around it to evade Remus. However, the werewolf manages to outmaneuver you, growling menacingly as he positions himself behind the three of you. In that heart-stopping moment, you hold Hermione and Harry close, bracing for the inevitable strike.

But before Remus can attack, Buckbeak swoops in, his wings beating powerfully. The Hippogriff strikes Remus on the back, causing the werewolf to retreat.

"Poor Professor Lupin is having a rough night," Harry comments.

Before you can say anything, a shiver runs down your spine as the chilly wind, possibly stirred by the Dementors, rustles the leaves around you.

Aware that the Dementors are nearby, you guide Harry and Hermione to the Great Lake. The chilling sight of the Dementors feeding on the past selves of Harry and Sirius sends a shudder through your body. Harry insists that his father will arrive to conjure a Patronus, but you grimly inform him that Sirius, as well as Harry, is dying.

Driven by urgency, Harry pulls out his wand and yells, "Expecto Patronum!" A magnificent stag emerges, its radiant form dispelling the Dementors, who flee from the powerful manifestation of the Patronus.

After a moment, it's quiet. Almost too quiet. That is, until you see your past selves making their way to Harry. With a shared sense of relief, you, Harry, and Hermione mount Buckbeak. The Hippogriff takes flight, soaring through the night sky, carrying you towards the tower where Sirius is held. The wind whistles past, and the moon watches over on this daring rescue, the ripples of the past slowly changing the present.

[axewchao]

Decided to turn a couple of my OCs into Zelda races!

Why? Because I know for a fact that I can't just draw Dal n' Rev all day. One day I'll branch out, and that means I need more practice with everything else Hyrule has to offer =w=

'Specially the Zoras. Those damn fish... head... tail... things =_="

I'll be sticking their mini-bios under a readmore :3

Makani

A Gerudo journeying across Hyrule. Blessed with fire magic, she left Gerudo Town to learn how to properly control said power, mainly via fighting as many monsters as she can. She hopes to one day return to the desert and challenge the legendary Molduking. Has an affinity for baking, and has considered establishing her own bakery somewhere pleasant and pretty.

While Makani has a number of goals on her mind, one she struggles with revolves around her eventually finding a voe. She doesn't want to just... have a kid for the sake of adding to the next generation, then waltz off to continue pursuing her own desires like her mother did. She wants to find a husband and start a loving family, but still has dreams, and only has so much time to do either. Subconsciously, she feels like she's being rushed to pick one thing and stick with it forever, which stresses her out.

Dusty

A Goron traveling with Makani. He considers Makani his sworn sister because of the matching heart-shaped marks (okay Dusty's is a rock) on their necks. Like his name implies, he's known for leaving large trails of dust clouds whenever he rolls around. He uses this to his advantage when fighting monsters; blocking their vision with dust, then striking from behind. He can also use the spikes on his back to scale up various walls.

Dusty is particularly fond of crashing into things. Monsters, large rocks, ore deposits, you name it, he'll crash it. Like most other Gorons, he doesn't like the taste of gems, but still collects them to make easy rupees. After hearing about the powers each gem can hold, he's kept one of each type for himself, as he's now debating over whether he should just attach them to his weapons and call it a day or keep more and have them converted into jewelry later. That "diamond circlet" thing sounds pretty badass, after all...

Tuno

A young Zora that was found washed up on the shores of Hateno Beach by Symin some time prior to the events of BotW. Rather than let the child swim back out to the unknowns of the sea, Tuno was instead brought to the Domain, where he was taken in by Laflat. Much like Link, Tuno never says a word, but can communicate with other Zoras by wiggling his fins.

Tuno has abilities similar to that of a puffer fish, in that he can puff up his tail and raise a set of spines to stab/scare any would-be assailants or threats. However, unlike puffer fish, he isn't poisonous in any way. He rarely puffs up, both because he's difficult to scare, and because it looks embarrassingly silly. The one thing that does scare him, however, is Octoroks. It's possible that some kind of Octorok had terrified Tuno in the past, maybe even drove him away from the sea entirely.

Tuna

A Hylian boy who lives at the Woodland Stable. He's Tuno's best friend, and the two are as close as siblings. Tuna often wonders if it's possible for a person to turn into a Zora, and likes to daydream about what his "Zora form" would look like. Prefers playing with the horses rather than actually tending to them, and is often begging his parents to let him start his riding lessons.

For reasons unknown, Tuna is prone to falling ill on the night of a blood moon, often left bedridden by sunset. He's become a sort of alarm at the stable because of this, where if anyone is wondering when a blood moon will rise, they just check on him. If he's feeling dizzy, that means one's coming. He'll recover the following morning without fail, but this doesn't stop his parents and fish bro from worrying about him.

[neptunes-blue]

CORPSMAN’S PRAYER - VINCENT KRAWCZYK - THE PACIFIC

short summary: Vincent Krawczyk graduates from Illinois’s Naval Hospital Corps School after first enlisting on the 8th of December, 1941

warnings: implied child neglect (sort of?), sailors get drunk and slip off chairs

(Main) characters: Vincent Krawczyk (oc), Terence Flynn (oc)

word count: 1.8k words

notes: this is like. The only time ever I will post my writing… if it disappears tomorrow I have succumbed to my shame and deleted this 😔. I had to format this on my iPad with no idea how any of this works…. Also if you see spelling/grammar mistakes no you didn’t I was too scared to share this to a friend to proofread ☹️ (looks at the ‘art blog’ in my bio hmmmm)

🚢

Grant me, oh Lord, for the coming events;

Enough knowledge to cope and some plain common sense. Be at our side on those nightly patrols; And be merciful judging our vulnerable souls. Make my hands steady and as sure as a rock; when the others go down with a wound or in shock. Let me be close, when they bleed in the mud; With a tourniquet handy to save precious blood. Here in the jungle, the enemy near; Even the corpsman can't offer much lightness and cheer. Just help me, oh Lord, to save lives when I can; Because even out there is merit in man.

If it's Your will, make casualties light; And don't let any die in the murderous night. These are my friends I'm trying to save; They are frightened at times, but You know they are brave. Let me not fail when they need so much; But to help me serve with a compassionate touch. Lord, I'm no hero—my job is to heal; And I want You to know Just how helpless I feel. Bring us back safely to camp with dawn; For too many of us are already gone.

Lord bless my friends If that's part of your plan; And go with us tonight, when we go out again.

— Navy Hospital Corpsman’s prayer 

When Vincent was 5, he woke up in his home to nothing.

When he tried to focus on where he imagined the hallway, there was nothing but black. And from the kitchen he heard a faint drip and nothing more. 

It’s hard to recall a memory in the muffling black dark. It’s more of a feeling really, cold icy dread that travels down your spine and keeps you at a standstill. 

Vincent still remembers how his body— much smaller in his youth, chattering with fear on the dusty couch. Too scared to call out for his parents.

10 years later, he’d brought up the memory at the dining table and was flattened by his father’s admittance to a fuzzy memory where he forgets to take him off the couch and into bed.

Currently, Vinny is 19 and fumbling with the neckerchief of his dress blues. His brow knotted while Terence Flynn shined his shoes.

“Vinny, how in hell are you gon’ take care of your wife? 20 and you can’t tie your own kerchief?”

Krawczyk swivels to face Flynn like you would in drill. His face in a crooked smile.

“20 in a week actually. I thought I told you yesterday that I was 20 next week.” He says in a voice dripping with a very matter-of-fact tone, a crooked grin plastered on his face.

“I’m gonna start praying for your future wife.” Flynn half-snorts, rolling his eyes. 

Vincent listens to Terence’s back click as he stretches, taking a ‘well deserved’ break from his shoe-shining; it was a lousy attempt to seem presentable and handsome for graduation. Terence Flynn, mousey-faced and dark-haired tucking away at least some of his antics for today.

Vincent had complimented how nicely Flynn’s chevrons were stitched once. Terence had flushed red and muttered ashamed that his mother had sewn them on for him.

Within each stitch a gentle kiss of a mothers love tucked under the dark fabric of the Navy’s pride— that’s what Vincent imagined anyways. He had responded with a quiet ‘oh’ and looked at his own chevrons that still had stitches leaking from the edges of blue fabric. 

Krawczyk tried to stare back into the mirror and ignore the eruptions of jealousy that burst across his face.

Men dressed neatly in their Navy dress blues begin to leave barracks, putting away shaving kits and slicking their hair back with their caps in hand.

“Bu-ddy?” 

Terence whistles and clicks his tongue, already standing at the door out of barracks. 

“Christ!” 

Vincent glanced at Terence and then back at himself in the mirror before quickly scampering after his friend. Finally figuring out the intricacies of his neckerchief while his shoes hit the plywood floor.

Vincent's rowing team had been best in Missouri, he was the best batter in baseball, captain of the swimming team, and one of the top boxers in school. 

It didn't count for much, all his trophies and awards were in a box underneath his bed. 

Krawczyk wouldn't know until after his enlistment had ended that his parents had pawned his gold medals off when he'd left for the Navy. Vincent would understand when he came back. Forgiving, sweet, war-torn Vincent who would believe his family was going through tough times.

His photos remained in the box however– the same crooked grin even as his face matured. Collecting an inch of dust.

The winter wind had calmed to a soft breeze (thank the lord) and Chief took to the stand saying speeches Krawczyk seemed to block out with his anticipation.

Rows of navy men with their chests puffed out with the boyish pride that never left them even as men. Preparing to leave for war with the promise to serve and a prayer for survival. 

Thomas Murray, a tall, gawky man with blue eyes and blonde hair had been a surgeon before all of this; Chance Henderson always wanted to be a doctor who and thought this was the quickest a cheapest way to get there; shy Samuel Davis who blushed easily and hated using the communal showers was plain kind-hearted and liked the idea of helping wounded; Dayton Bishop was smart and steady-handed, he was suited to the role of a corpsman with square eyes and a handsome jaw.

Terence had smirked at Vincent when he told him he joined up because he thought it’d make him popular with the ladies. 

Vinny had roared with laughter, telling him that he’d, ‘never even get a nice girl to look his way’.  

Flynn had tried to counter him, reminding Vinny that he had a girl— ‘A girl that left him’, he had responded with. Flynn wanted to argue but Vincent turned the topic too quick.

‘Colours, present arms!’

Vincent was beaming. 

The whole thing felt like his High School graduation but fancier. And if it wasn’t an important ceremony he wouldn’t have stopped himself from laughing but, he’d be lying through bared, grinning teeth that he wasn’t pouring over with pride. 

He (rather excitedly) stepped onto the stage, shaking hands with the CPO and then to the SCPO who passed him his graduation paper. Vincent was only able to glance at his name ‘Vincent Phillip Krawczyk’ scrawled in the middle of the paper before he had to ‘calmly and mild-manneredly’ walk across the stage.

"I solemnly pledge myself.”

"I solemnly pledge myself…” The bright faced men echoed. 

“Before God and these witnesses.”

“Before God and these witnesses.”

“To practice faithfully all of my duties.”

“To practice faithfully all of my duties.”

“As a member of the Hospital Corps.”

“As a member of the Hospital Corps…”

The band marched out soon after the Corpsman Pledge, Anchors Aweigh cutting through the dewy morning air and sending out that good ol’ Navy pride. Vincent could’ve sworn he saw Terence’s eyes water as he muttered the lyrics under his breath.

“STAND NAVY TO SEA, FIGHT OUR BATTLE CRRYY!”

Flynn roared, hopping from bar stool to bar stool— hand on heart while the other swung a bottle of beer. 

Davis was bright red, with 7 drinks too many he had joined Terence in his performance. Vincent clapped, repeating Terence and Davis’ “So vicious foe steer shy-y-y-y!”, despite not having even one drop of alcohol that evening. The rowdy sailors had scared off most of the other bar patrons. Dayton sat smartly as ever, Murray was playing craps with the increasingly drunker Chance and the other boys— Mark, Jones, Sutton, Kidd, Freeman, West, Patrick… were either pink-faced and whooping or challenging the other to another game, drink, or bet.

“Y’know, back in my home-place, Missouri I used to drink like there wasn’t a God!” 

“Anchors aweigh my boys! ANCHORS AWEIGHH!”

Dayton didn’t seem to be really paying attention to Krawczyk’s yammering.

“My pal, Nate, he drank beer like it wasn’t a Wednesday afternoon. Never trust a usual mild-mannered Missouri man, we might all seem pleasant but as soon as he gets a drink too many he’ll sock you right in the face if you even mention his favourite sport team’s rival team— I nearly got socked in the face for it once, can you believe it?” 

Vinny bursts into laughter, not really taking note that Dayton didn’t join in.

"Farewell to foreign shores, we sail at break of day-ay-AY-AY!”

“You’re not drinking.”

Vincent perks up when Dayton speaks.

“Yeah— yeah, no, I'm not a drinker," Vinny shrugs. "Christian, I keep it to special occasions." He finishes, grinning.

“Uhuh. Isn’t this a special occasion?”

“Someone has to be sober enough to hold caps when you all retch whiskey in the bathroom.”

Dayton shrugs, swirling his brandy on the rocks.

“Drink to the foam, until we meet once more! Here's wishing you a happy voyage HOME!”

And with the end of the second verse, Flynn missed the barstool he was jumping to by a foot and cracked his head on the side of the counter.

The sand was soft at Nunn beach.  

Vinny liked beaches, he liked the waves, how the seawater dried on his arms and left white salt stains on his skin. He even liked nursing his good friend after slamming his own face into a bench, who now had a rapidly growing lump above his right brow.

The sun had sunk halfway under the ocean, sending out stretching wands of orange light that sparked crashing waves yellow. It turned his and Flynn’s faces amber and made his bruise just slightly more obvious. 

“Finally put those corpsman skills to good use.”

Vincent was grinning— Terence was not. 

He reached into his wrinkled blues, pulling a silver rosary over his head, careful to not bump his tender lump. Terence cleared his throat, trying to clear the shame in his voice. 

“My gal got it for me but you know uh. We broke up”

“She left you.”

“We broke up!” He insisted, with a huff. Flynn turned from Vincent and admired the carving of Christ. Hanging by his hands on the silver cross, intricate swirls that seemed to grow from his hollow body and border the cross he was strung across. It seemed to glimmer white in the setting sun.

“Take it. A parting gift. Or an apology— I don't care. Or really believe in that crap anymore anyways”

“Don't call it crap.”

“Sorry.”

Vincent tenderly accepted the gift from his friend, thumbing the cross.

“Tell me a story, Vince.” Terence’s voice was flat, eyes glued onto the horizon instead of his friend.

“Well. Once me and my pal Nate thought it'd be funny to throw rocks at the school greenhouse.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

[karkkle]

MAZONITE POSTING!!!

a girl and her girl

i could actually talk about Mazonite for hours i hold her so dear to me for no reason.

so i shall lore dump. all of this is subject to change but i feel like yapping rn.. anyways

Mazonite's the drummer for her sex rock band Eudialyte! She does most of the writing for the band but her voice is a little too, in her opinion, raspy and yucky to sing. ): What you get for 10+ years of chain smoking ig

She's in her mid-lateish twenties and acts like a college student who has no sense of self preservation. Her kitchen usually has nothing but juice, cereal, sauce, and leftover local restaurant food. Sometimes theres a bagged precooked chicken if she's feeling rich. Also the baked goods her girlfriend brings her!!! Those go fast though.

Mazon met Floyd outside of a bar one night. He was in his mid-late teens, playing guitar for money in desperate attempt to get back on his feet after his solo career failed. Don't worry, he gets another shot at it later.

She offers to take him in! Floyd's a little hesitant, as one should be when an intoxicated woman comes out from a bar after her band's performance and offers you a place to live. Eventually he accepts when she offers to take him to get something to eat. They go to some dingy local joint and she gets a burrito (VERY IMPORTANT(not really(i would kill for a burrito rn(thats all)))). She mentions her girlfriend over dinner and the wlw mlm solidarity is enough to convince Floyd he's safe with her. Maybe not the best logic, but he's a queer teenage boy and that's more or less the logic we all had at some point.

Mazonite has no recollection of the events the next morning but is chill with this new roommate. He's sassy but they get along. She dubs him her "nephew", which he doesn't exactly love.

Floyd: I'm not your nephew.

Mazonite: Why can't I be? ):

Floyd: For one, you're as old as my eldest brother. For another, we aren't related.

Mazonite: Consider, Flo, that I am like the cool sexy lesbian aunt you have been missing your whole lifey-wifey?!?

Floyd: D- .. Don't ever say sexy and aunt in the same sentence.

Mazonite: I buy you black hair dye and this is how you treat me??? ):

He learns to stop caring about the nephew title.

Eventually Mazon introduces Floyd to the band and he maaaybe has a little crush on their guitarist/singer, Aveil. What gay emo teen doesn't love a guy with long hair, a little facial hair, and tattoos. Anyways, the band loves him! Mazon's girlfriend, Renée is a bit worried that she isn't feeding him properly. He assures her he's fine. Renée starts sending more homecooked dishes.

Floyd joins Eudialyte when Aveil gets arrested for smth stupid a few days before the band has a show. Mazonite begs him to sing, just for one show, just one night. Floyd's against it just because he's really set on being a soloist, but Maz pesters him into one show. He ends up really enjoying it. Who knew being a band could be fun? Just like back with...well...nevermind. He'd rather not talk about it.

Floyd stays singing for Eudialyte when Aveil returns and he helps Mazonite write some of the music! Way down the line Floyd leaves Eudialyte to pursure his solo career, and the band couldn't be more thrilled. They are his biggest fans (: Mazon goes to every show she can and screams as loud as possible as close to the front as she can get. Bro owns all the Floyd merch she can get her sharp little fingers on.

She's my silly meow meow

Anyways idk what else to say there's def more to her but I'm drawing a blank lol. Mazonée endgame tho they are so in love and I could make a whole post on their relationship. They get married one day and have a daughter!!! :D

[harrysolaf]

Vigilante Shit

Harry Styles and (Y/N) had always been close friends. They met in high school, both outcasts in their own ways. Her, an introverted bookworm and him, a free-spirited musician. They bonded over their love for music and soon became inseparable. As they grew older, their friendship turned into something more. One night, (Y/N) was sitting on her bed, strumming away on her guitar when Harry barged into her room unannounced. He had a mischievous glint in his eyes as he plopped down on her bed next to her.

'What are you up to, Har?' (Y/N) asked, setting her guitar aside.

'I have a surprise for you,' Harry grinned, handing her a ticket.

'Vigilante Shit concert?' (Y/N) read in disbelief. Taylor Swift was one of her favorite artists and they were coming to town.

Harry chuckled at her reaction. 'I managed to snag us front row seats. Thought we could use a night out.'

(Y/N) couldn't contain her excitement as she hugged Harry tightly. 'You're the best, Harry!'

Their night at the concert was a dream come true. They sang along to every song, danced in their seats, and even got a glimpse of Taylor as she walked down the aisle during one of her songs. As they left the concert, (Y/N) felt like she was on cloud nine. She couldn't stop smiling, and neither could Harry. As they walked back to their car, they noticed a group of men circling around a young woman. Without hesitation, Harry rushed over to intervene. (Y/N) followed closely, her heart pounding in her chest. The men quickly dispersed as Harry stood in front of the woman, making sure she was safe.

'Are you okay?' Harry asked, extending his hand to help the woman up.

She nodded, still shaking from the encounter. 'Thank you so much. I don't know what would've happened if you two hadn't come along.'

'It's no problem,' (Y/N) reassured her, offering a comforting smile.

As they walked away, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for Harry. He was always the one to stand up for what was right, even if it meant putting himself in danger. She couldn't help but think of the song 'Vigilante Shit' by Taylor Swift. The lyrics perfectly described Harry and his actions in that moment. The rest of the night, (Y/N) couldn't stop replaying the events in her mind. She realized that Harry wasn't just her best friend, he was her hero. And she never wanted to lose him. A few days later, (Y/N) was at home studying when she received a call from Harry. He sounded frantic and out of breath.

'Hey, (Y/N), I need your help. Meet me at the park near my house,' Harry said urgently.

(Y/N) quickly grabbed her bag and hurried to the park. When she arrived, she saw Harry chasing after a group of teenagers who were throwing rocks at a stray dog.

Without hesitation, (Y/N) joined in, chasing after the teenagers with Harry. They managed to catch up to them and scolded them for their actions. The dog, who was now hiding behind a tree, seemed grateful and nuzzled against (Y/N)'s leg.

'We should call animal control,' (Y/N) suggested, looking down at the dog.

'Yeah, you're right,' Harry agreed, relieved that the dog was now safe.

As they waited for animal control to arrive, they sat on a nearby bench, catching their breaths.

'I don't know what it is, (Y/N), but whenever I see someone helpless or in danger, I just can't help but do something about it,' Harry admitted, looking down at his hands.

'It's because you have a kind heart, Harry. That's what makes you special,' (Y/N) said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Harry smiled gratefully, but before he could say anything, the dog suddenly jumped up and began barking at a group of men who were approaching them. (Y/N) and Harry quickly recognized them as the same men from the previous encounter.

Without thinking, (Y/N) and Harry stepped in between the dog and the men, standing their ground.

'What do you want?' (Y/N) asked bravely, even though her heart was racing.

'We want that dog. He belongs to us,' one of the men sneered.

(Y/N) and Harry exchanged a knowing look. They couldn't let the dog go back to those cruel men.

'We're not giving him back,' Harry stated firmly, his jaw clenched. The men chuckled and began to approach, but before they could make a move, the sound of police sirens filled the air. The men quickly scattered, and (Y/N), Harry, and the dog were safe once again. As they walked back to their car, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel proud of Harry. He wasn't just her hero, he was a vigilante, always standing up for what was right and protecting those who couldn't protect themselves. From that moment on, (Y/N) knew that Harry would always be there to stand by her side, no matter what. And together, they would continue to do vigilante shit, just like Taylor Swift's empowering anthem.

AN: it’s been in my drafts for a while

It’s random idk