#he had some fire weed tho

[missfertileandferal]

lowkey super anxious to post this but im missing you guys so much <3

i plan on a solid return soon! i just wanted to get off my chest whats been going on:

Earlier this year, I dealt with an awful situation of my kinky stuff leaking into real life. My insane coworkers found my content and as I was serving on the clock, proceeded to show my customers and all the staff. then i was fired. Im traumatized to say the least but I over came it.

Come mid summer, I planned so step back for a little bit to move apartments no more than a couple weeks. What happened was both my job (i worked with close family friends so stressful) and a really bad situation with a companion found about my kink stuff. i never expected or was prepared for the humiliation, deception, and pain that would come from my fetish journey

My last job was such a loss. I had been blessed with a cute job as a medical office assistant without any credentials (i wasnt doing anything out of my capabilities of course) it was so peaceful and perfect compared to the drama of my last gig plus working with familiar people felt just like home honestly. Then I got covid. I was out for 2 weeks, at the same time i was moving into my new place. I tried calling them back to let them know I was cleared and ready to get back to work. I received a humiliating text. I was dismissed. That turned into a crippling anxiety of them confessing to my family what I do in my past time

The following week I was met with more disappointment. Ive said this before but I dont have many people in my corner. It used to suck to admit but I stand with pride now knowing those who are around me love me 100% regardless what I do or dont do.

One of my dearest dearest friends, who I had previously communicated what I do (not to a full extent they always respected it) called me very dramatically only a week before I planned to see them (they live across the country and we ALWAYS visit each other when in our cities) It still doesnt feel real tbh, the call only last 40 seconds. I was informed that “I was going on the wrong path” and could no longer be associated with. That’s alls that happened. 8 years down the drain

I was informed by outside sources that my hometown opps had gotten hold of my content (who my ex friend still associate with but I despise bc they’ve always been obsessed with me but in a bad way) and they had confronted him about being my friend. he pussied out and cut me off. they also mass reported my last instagram account😡🤬

I had to take some time back to seriously debate if these loses were worth it. I was swallowed with so much anxiety knowing that an uncomfortable amount of people in my zip code knew what ive been up to. its already complicated being into this and while at the same time not being in a plus size body. thats another conversation tho

That debate has turned into me accepting these events as the universe weeding out people/things that no longer serve me. This has shown peoples true colors, if I am not to be associated with because of my sexual freedom, body acceptance, and undoing of fat phobia then PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE.

Im recovering ❤️‍🩹 but my heart and hedonism can’t be helped. i love being a kinky lil gut slut. its helped me grow in so many ways from acceptance to living an esoteric dreamy life. i love all the hot girls and guys that i see on my timeline. they hype me up and vise versa. i love this little corner of the internet. my fellow freaks keep me going. i’ve been so on and off online but every time i come back to the sweetest words and support. thank you guys for your patience and consideration

my anxiety is to the roof as im typing. its crazy that these privacy problems havent been within the actual community. funny. if your still reading this I love you extra. ill be streaming on ig on my comeback day!

new ig acc @missfertileandferal💘

[chocosvt]

HER | part two.

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

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

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

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

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

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

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

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

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

updates: in terms of a posting schedule, i'm pre sure i'm just gonna post every saturday night ~12am EST (so technically sunday lol). taglist is included in the comment section since tumblr now has limit as to how many peeps are mentioned per post :p

thanks againnnn! 🌟

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

—MAY 12TH.

Wonwoo was sat on his couch with your laptop glowing in front of him, one hand holding up his chin while the other scrolled slowly through your writing. Finally, you’d let him actually glean your work, and he was quite impressed with your natural skill. He supposed the biggest issue was the choppiness—your sentence structures were much like your racing tangents, and in some areas the writing lacked flow and a smooth continuality. But that sort of ability would just develop on its own as long as you were practicing.

For the most part, Wonwoo was leaving behind small notes and highlighting areas that you could revisit at a later time.

“Okay, I’m going to do a handstand.”

However, as Wonwoo had been combing through your work for the past half-hour, that left you with an apparent boredness which somehow translated into an acrobatics session in his living room.

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

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

Wonwoo was in the midst of typing a note when a small, circular embroidered pillow had suddenly struck the laptop, nearly forcing it shut. It was then that Wonwoo looked up with a long sigh, acknowledging the devious, shining smile that sprung to your face.

“Now that I have your attention—”

Wonwoo titled his head, folded his arms, and propped one foot onto the coffee table, somewhat like an exhausted parent who was being heckled by their child to watch the “special trick” they’d just learned. He was internally praying you actually were good at handstands, because that fragile pottery vase and the antique gold clock sitting on the fire mantel had never looked so breakable until now. A cool breeze slivered in through the open window as your arms began raising above your head, and he heard you inhale steadily.

“Go!” You then shouted, either in motivation or impatience aimed at yourself, loud enough to make Wonwoo flinch.

The next moment, you were basically flipped upside down, your socked feet sticking pointedly in the air while your hands stumbled about on the brown rug for a few seconds, attempting to find their place rooted in the fuzz. Wonwoo pursed his lip, impressed.

“See! Told you!”

“I mean, I never said you couldn’t.”

“Are you amazed?”

He watched with a slight bit of nervousness as you walked a few paces forward with your hands, though he kept his calm composure from the couch and dealt you about three dull claps.

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

To Wonwoo’s utter relief, you collapsed back onto your feet, probably because the blood was gushing to your head and he’d rather not have you faint squarely on the face in his living room. You then sat on your knees for a moment, rubbing slowly at your scalp.

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

“Don’t let me rush you.”

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

Finally, you got up from the rug.

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

“Yeah, not in this house you’re not.”

“Not in this house you’re not.”

He merely smirked at your attempt to mimic him by employing a cartoonishly deep tone that you found very amusing, made evident by your prideful giggles close to his ear. Just as Wonwoo scrolled to the end of the document to type his last note, you were piqued with curiosity and leaned over his lap, grabbing at the screen to examine how far he’d come during your hour together.

“So, where are you at anyway?”

Wonwoo pressed himself back into the couch, immediately removing his hands from the keyboard. It felt like at the most random, unpredictable times you would swoop in so close to him, and he never quite knew how to react. Most times he would freeze, become stiff and hardly breathing, run his eyes in all different directions around the room because everything seemed easier when he pretended you didn’t exist.

He adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat.

“I’m basically done.”

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

Wonwoo squirmed in his seat as though it were scratching him. You eventually pulled away, but your knee was now resting on the side of his thigh and you were sitting much closer than before—close enough that your shoulder was digging into his and he could sense your full, bright eyes burning a stare at his pink cheek.

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

“Well, what do you think of it?”

He paused, still staring at the laptop.

“Of what?”

“Wonwoo, my writing, obviously,” you said with a warm laugh and a soft breath that rushed over his neck in such a pleasurable, lightheaded way. “And look at me,” he heard you ask in a lower, more sincere voice, your fingers then ghosting along his tense jaw in a fleeting, sensitive touch as you guided his head gently in your direction, “I just want to know you’re telling the truth.”

He was accustomed to your eyes being filled with sparks and the readiness to pit the most sharp-tongued comment in history, and so Wonwoo was able to relax ever so slightly upon realizing how your gaze had become increasingly mellow, welcoming even.

“Well, you’re obviously good at it,” he managed to answer the question without his voice trembling, “just some pacing issues, mostly. You’ve got a bit of an issue with run-on sentences and closing up a scene. But you plan a lot, which is nice. I mean, you can only get better.”

An earnest smile picked its way across your face, framing your polished teeth and pushing up the apples of your cheeks. Wonwoo had to look away—sometimes it was too much—you were too much, and he refused to let himself drown beneath your intensity that he found purely terrifying. Your knee proceeded to pull from his thigh and you were now dragging your body off the couch, which meant that Wonwoo could safely exhale the breath he was holding. He wondered if you just wanted to hear the compliment, or if you were legitimately pleased with his praise.

You walked up to his fireplace mantel, examining the items left along the white, sparkling trim he’d spritzed clean of all dust.

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

Wonwoo shook his head.

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

“She made it?”

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

Shaking your head, you turned back to the vase.

“I didn’t see her at all.”

“She was probably in her office.”

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

Wonwoo squinted at the vase from his place on the couch. He hadn’t really examined it much, apart from when his landlord had thrust it into his hands while she welcomed him to the building. It never held any flowers, either—not even the brilliant ruby coloured poinsettias his ex-girlfriend's mother was supposed to send.

The relationship has disintegrated before it could ever happen.

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

“It’s really pretty.”

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

You turned back to him, shrugging.

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

“It is. It’s very pretty.”

With a sigh, you climbed back onto the couch.

“Do you think you’re done editing?”

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

“I think so. For the day.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, like what?”

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

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

“I don’t want to tell.”

“Why not?” He murmured.

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

“Fair. I get that.”

“It’s complicated family stuff.”

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

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

He nodded.

“I’ll be there if you are.”

—MAY 14TH.

The Spring Street Fair. It happened every single May, for three days straight, usually Friday to Sunday. In the daytime it was cheerier and more watered down for the children that came hand in hand with their parents, looking to feed the alpacas and ride those nauseating teacups and sob until exhaustion because they accidentally let go of their kitten-shaped balloon. However, at night, the fair had become a beacon for the older, rowdier university crowd.

Wonwoo never went despite all his recent years living in the city, but Vernon had, usually on accounts of “business” which really meant selling drugs for idiotic prices behind the Whirler or the Starship. You wanted to go, but hadn’t told Wonwoo the reason. He opted to assume it was another part of your story—maybe you ran into Mingyu at a similar fair when you were younger, and it was therefore very integral you go Spring Street tonight. It was the exact opposite of what Wonwoo typically appreciated doing on Sundays, and he knew for a fact he’d loathe it, every single part.

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

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

“Then what for?”

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

He was supposed to meet you inside the fair. It was almost ten o’clock at night. The sky was beautifully clear, illuminated with pinpricks of starlight, and the air had once been crisp. Now, Wonwoo was beginning to smell sparked cannabis, and he assumed a likewise scent would follow him all damn night. The horrid, anxious process of standing in the mile long line was made palatable through his conversation with Vernon, who—shockingly—wasn’t even there.

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

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

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

“Write well, not good.”

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

The line started slowly pouring forward, and Wonwoo felt himself get dragged along. Probably another five minutes and he would be at the ticket booth, getting one of those neon bracelets circled around his wrist that were nearly impossible to rip off.

“Why didn’t you come?” Wonwoo asked.

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

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

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

The air began mottling with a thin, chalky smoke that drifted from somewhere down the crowded string of university students. Again, the line shuffled, and the congestion gradually broke up as more people were allowed into the fair. Wonwoo switched the phone to his other ear, getting his wallet ready.

“Don’t even start.”

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

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

Suddenly, Wonwoo’s phone began vibrating against his palm, and when he pulled it down an immediate lump conjured in his throat upon reading your name. His heart jolted, and it wasn’t until someone pushed hard on his back to urge him forward that he realized the line was once again ambling closer to the ticket booth.

Vernon sighed, “so, again, tell me where you’ll—”

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

A few remnants of Vernon’s miffed, guttural cursing managed to leak through the phone before Wonwoo could press to accept your call. In an instant, his friend was blipped away, and he heard your voice instead. He held back a cough from the astringent, cottonish air.

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

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

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

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

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

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

An unbeknownst pressure escaped his chest.

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

“Sure. Don’t be late!”

“I know. Bye.”

Hanging up the phone, Wonwoo had just enough time to wriggle the device into his back pocket before handing the ticket booth clerk his coins. She dropped the cold change into his hand, then asked to see his wrist, where she proceeded to attach the bracelet with the words Spring Street Fair etched into the orange, plasticky-feeling paper.

Finally, he was let inside.

Blue arrows, blue arrows—that was all Wonwoo kept reiterating in his head like some religious hymn as he followed the glow throughout the fairgrounds, weaving his way between large groups of people that he gleefully didn’t recognize. Eventually, he saw the tavern you were referring to—an outdoor bar with picnic tables set up everywhere, beneath cheap little strings of warm, lambent lights.

Even with his glasses on, Wonwoo was still squinting as he walked between each table, attempting to discern your dolled-up face somewhere amongst the strangers sipping on their large mugs of alcohol, that was until he heard his name being called over the music rumbling from the bar’s horrible speakers. When he looked straight ahead, he saw you cutely waving him over. With each step he took, Wonwoo reminded himself to breathe, to loosen up, to stop clenching his fists so painfully tight as though he were going to split someone’s eyebrow. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Just breathe.

You stood up from the table to welcome him, and he felt your hand settle softly on his lower back. The touch was grounding.

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

God—he wanted to puke, all those big, curious, unabashed eyes soaking him in like freshly dipped watercolour to a cloth canvas. There was a cluster of high-pitched voices that repeated his name in a shrill, unison greeting. However, Wonwoo was unable to meet a single girl’s gaze, and so he opted to stare down at a paper plate on the table aligned with cinnamon-sprinkled churros.

Again, he wanted to throw up.

“So, of course, Wonwoo’s been the biggest help with everything,” you said, to which he could sense your nails subtly digging at him through his clothes, most likely a silent urge to say something so he didn’t seem so unprecedentedly stiff and metallic.

He cleared his throat.

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

“Is that your actual voice?”

His eyes darted to find who asked the question. She was toward the end of the picnic table, tucking a lock of short, coffee brown hair behind her ear. Before the girl was a gigantic and fluorescent pink drink, the glass resembling the shape of a fish bowl.

“… What do you mean?” Wonwoo replied.

She sat up on her knee, continuing to ogle him with those fixated but glazed chestnut eyes. Her mouth seemed to drag as though it was thawing when she spoke. Wonwoo could tell she was already well inebriated. There was no way that was her first drink.

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

“Well… I don’t know. Puberty.”

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

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

“Super what?” He repeated, confused at her wording.

But she didn't seem interested in repeating herself, instead scooping the long and impressively silky black hair off her shoulder to spill down her pale back.

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

Wonwoo felt your hand land on his shoulder and gently tug him backward, away from the table. You then proceeded to grab the glass left at your seat, chugging the remaining alcohol until there was nothing but a melting block of ice cubes clicking at the bottom. While you wiped your mouth, you began aiming a finger at each girl.

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

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

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

Your arm curled around Wonwoo’s bicep as though to whisk him away as hurriedly as possible. Everyone left at the table began waving, and Wonwoo couldn’t even bring himself to force a fake, pleasant smile because he was still attempting to understand what all those comments even meant. You walked briskly until the poetic, firefly lights of the tavern were lost long behind in the distance, and when you finally paused, he had not a clue where he was standing—a busy centre with people mingling all around him, the wild whirring of carnival rides and chaotic, blinking hues strobing above his head.

When he looked down at you, he was surprised to see you were already staring back, and he could only hold the eye contact for no more than a few seconds or else his heart would skip a beat.

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

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

“Oh—yeah. She loves sparkles. Glitter. Anything glimmery. She’s been like that ever since I’ve known her. Clara was the one who asked about your voice. She has a thing for guys with deep voices and you unfortunately fit the bill. And I’m sorry that Princess didn’t say anything. She kind of just looks and observes. Also I’m like ninety-eight percent sure she popped something in a porta-potty before we met up so she’s probably in a mental state of star-surfing. Anyway. You don’t have to worry about them, alright? It’s just us for tonight.”

 “Well, that’s… easy enough.”

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

“Hm?”

You then pointed to something behind Wonwoo, and when he turned his head, he felt a gust of wind from the gigantic, spinning ride that resembled a flying saucer in the nighttime sky. It was always beyond him why anyone would choose to strap themselves into a machine that terrifying. It made him sick just watching.

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

“Okay, so let’s find somewhere else.”

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

“We have to hold hands, or have arms linked,” you said.

For some reason, Wonwoo presumed you were joking, and so he tilted his head at you with a questioning smile. But when your serious expression didn’t crack, he realized it wasn’t a joke at all.

“Oh… why?”

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

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

The truth was, Wonwoo didn’t want to hold your hand. He didn’t want to link arms with you. He didn’t want you pressed into his side all night. He didn’t want to have the scent of your hair under his nose or feel your ticklish breath against his neck each time you spoke.

But he didn’t have a good enough excuse to fight it.

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

 “Actually?”

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

Wonwoo quickly shook his head in response to your condescending tone. You then reached for his hand, which he offered up for your required holding, and chose to ignore the butterflies in the deep pit of his stomach when he realized how perfectly your fingers slotted with his. He followed your lead through the fair until you came outside a small lemonade booth. Wonwoo thought you would drop his hand, but you didn’t, and his knees felt like gelatine.

“I want another drink,” you told him.

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

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

“Ugh,” you gritted in response, brushing some hair from your face, “I hate public washrooms. They’re so gross. Completely unsanitary. Awful maintenance. One time I was here and I walked into the washroom by the Mirror Hall and I swear, a freaking rat ran across the floor! I screamed bloody murder. I’d rather squat in the bush and risk getting, like, poison ivy. But the washrooms have mirrors obviously, and I like checking my makeup and stuff. I wish I could check now.”

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

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

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

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

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

He opened his mouth, then instantly closed it.

“So what’s wrong with it? Are my under eyes creasing? Is my contour too dark? Is my lipstick smudged? Did it get on my teeth? Ugh, I knew I should have brought my compact!”

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

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

“I promise.” Wonwoo confirmed, giving your hand another tight, reassuring squeeze that seemed to calm you down.

He had never seen someone switch gears that quickly. You could be perfectly amicable one second, and then break down into near hysteria the next, a slew of anxious thoughts running straight from your brain to your mouth like clockwork.

Wonwoo wondered how Mingyu dealt with such tangents all the time. The trait almost didn’t seem to fit your image.

The line moved forward another step.

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

“Maybe.”

“What will you get?”

“I… don’t know. A regular lemonade?”

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

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

The longer Wonwoo was at the fair, the less he actually thought about why he was there, until the question leapt into his mind at random while he stood beside you, waiting for a seat on the dauntingly large Farris wheel. He removed the straw from his mouth, swallowing a gulp of his pina colada flavoured drink, and peered down at you. His hand was still interlinked with yours. You had finished the strawberry refresher in about five minutes.

Now, you were texting someone. He didn’t know if it was a friend from earlier or perhaps your boyfriend, but Wonwoo wasn’t a serious sleuth, so he opted to look away despite the natural urge that was pricking him. When you finally tucked the phone back into the small bag slung around your shoulder, Wonwoo lowered the plastic cup from his mouth, making sure to clear his throat.

“So, uh, why are we here, exactly?”

You sniffled. “What do y’mean?”

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

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

“Palate cleansing?” He echoed.

“Yeah. It’s like, doing something different in between a routine, to keep yourself fresh. You always eat breakfast at home but today you skip it and go out for brunch. Y’know, shit like that.”

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

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

“Oh.”

That was all he could string together in response—not even string together, because it was just one boring, monotone sound that basically got carried away in the chilly wind, tinted with the smell of buttery popcorn and weed. It sounded like something that was supposed to sting, but it didn’t really. Maybe he was growing more accustomed to your unprompted judgements on his personal life.

Suddenly Wonwoo had blinked and you two were next in line for the empty cart. The clerk pointed at Wonwoo’s drink.

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

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

“We’re not.”

Pulling on his hand, you guided him into the shaky cart, both of you squishing onto the cold, metal bench. It was quite literally the tamest ride in the entire fair, and yet Wonwoo was still feeling nervous about it—though, that was possibly the fact he was going to be sailed one-hundred feet into the satin black sky, left amongst the stars and the bright, shimmering halo of the moon with you and you alone. He was actually relieved you had tossed his drink, otherwise he might have dropped it due to the trembling in his fingers. It was easier to fiddle with them in order to disguise their shakiness.

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

The cart jerked abruptly as the ride began to move and lift you two ever so gradually from the ground. Wonwoo peered over the edge for a brief moment to watch his distance grow from the people below, their jumbled mess of conversations fading in place of quiet.

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

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

Wonwoo wasn’t sure if he should attempt at conversation or just maintain the stillness between you. Usually, he couldn’t stand it, and the pressure to talk and fill the silence always tended to fail or squander something potentially enjoyable. But he supposed it was typically like that in a situation where two people weren’t the best acquainted—that’s why Wonwoo always quite liked Vernon, despite his rough, nonconformed edges and often vulgar way of speaking.

He was able to carry a conversation so naturally that the quieter moments never felt suffocating, instead falling exactly where they should, like puzzle pieces. But that was harder with you.

Maybe it was because you could be intimidating, unpredictable—Wonwoo was never truly relaxed around you because there was this intangible, looming worry that he needed to have the perfect responses and be the most perfect person. He found that perfect people only hung out with other perfect people and Wonwoo was certainly not that—perfect. You must have seen it by now. He was just as rough as Vernon no doubt, but in a different, hidden way that had to be dug into like an archeologist looking for broken bones.

The Ferris wheel slowed down, coming to a stop. You weren’t at the very top, though the air was notably cooler and much fresher. When he inhaled a long breath, it smelled purely of night and not overpriced, buttery fair food and burning weed. He noted that you stared straight ahead, at the crescent-shaped moon, which mirrored a backward stare with how squarely it sat in front of the ride. For once, Wonwoo wasn’t squirming, wriggling, stressing at the silence. When he spoke, he did it because he genuinely wanted to.

“How was your Saturday?”

“My Saturday?”

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

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I want to say I was overreacting the day before about how much I was dreading it. But then it fucking happened. And… I, uh… I realized I was exactly right. It was awful. I did get to your notes, though… yeah—I just—I squeezed them in between brunch with my mom’s friend who could talk herself to death and the excruciating car ride to the publisher’s office.”

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

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

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

Huffing in response, you nibbled on your inner check.

“Yeah, well, it is what it is… I already knew it was gonna be a shit show. So, what is it that you write about, anyway? Because you seem like you know a whole lot. Seokmin says you let him read some of your poetry, but it was only like, two excerpts.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Wonwoo recalled the memory of Seokmin picking up his leather notebook when it fell out from his bag one day. He’d pestered him about the contents until Wonwoo succumbed and presented him with some lifeless, impatiently scribbled prose that he’d most likely jerked out on the bus or in between his lectures. Seokmin seemed to treat it like fine, prestigious gold, though Wonwoo knew it was the least personal of his work that he would never let another living soul on the planet breathe—not one scent of the ink or even the paper.

“So, you write poetry?”

“I started writing poetry, haikus and all that easy stuff. I developed the interest a lot more through high school. But I never sat down and tried writing anything like a novel until I... I started uni.”

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

Wonwoo paused, looking down at his knees.

“… Life.”

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

The higher the Farris Wheel climbed, the stronger the breeze blew, and Wonwoo could feel its tendrils lashing across his cheeks and parting through his hair. You huddled further into your jacket.

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

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

Suddenly, your hand had reached out, and you were pushing the floppy, black tresses off his forehead. Wonwoo’s fingers dug bluntly into his arms. You then angled yourself in the small cart, looking back at him, sculpting your gaze to each crest in his face.

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

The question hit the dark, cold atmosphere like a sizzling ember and Wonwoo was afraid to even open his mouth because he was certain a dying squeak would come out. You continued to play around with the locks, earthing your fingers deep into its texture and attempting to style it despite the persistent, fluttering breeze.

“Um…”

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

“No.” Wonwoo swallowed, hard.

“Well, you should. Not all the time, obviously. And I’m not saying you look bad with it down—not at all. But you’ve got nice, smouldering features and they’re so much more… framed… when you show your forehead.” You collapsed back into the seat, and that tingly feeling he experienced when your fingers had been tugging and pulling was disseminating throughout his entire body. “I mean, look at how my friends reacted to you. I should apologize for that again, by the way. O-M-F-G, they see one hot guy, and they lose their grip.”

He nearly choked. “Hot?”

It didn’t sound right. Not at all.

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

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

You had folded your leg again as the Farris wheel came to another stop. This time, at the very top, at the centre of the night.

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

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

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

Wonwoo wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the question, but he smothered it down because he knew one little laugh might hit your ear the wrong way, and it would be flames, sputtering and spewing. Obviously, he didn’t think you were ugly—he never had, even before he ever spoke to you. But he wasn’t so shallow as to only regard someone’s physical appearance. You were still terrifying.

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

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

“Mmhm.”

“I agree.”

“What was that word your friend Bells said?”

You shrugged, “which word?”

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

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

“Meaning…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

At that, Wonwoo chuckled. “Does it?”

“Yes,” you smiled, eyes full of starlight, “and—just ignore Bells, okay? She was being kind of weird but that can be fully attributed to those three shots I told her not to take.”

“Hm.”

You continued to stare at him with a plotting smile.

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

“No—what the fuck—not at all.” Quickly, he’d pushed you away and off his shoulder, to which you retreated into the corner with a giggle that should have made his skin crawl, but didn’t.

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

Wonwoo glanced over the edge of the cart, at the almost nauseating distance between himself and the fairgrounds, covered with miniature, bustling people that seemed like breadcrumbs by comparison to their place in the sky. He didn’t want to sink into this conversation. Besides, how was he supposed to look at you when your fingers were just gliding through his hair and your lips were whispering close enough to brush up against his ear? How was he supposed to act composed? Normal?

“Hey, Wonwoo?” Your fingers snapped.

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

You paused, staring him up and down, perplexed.

“What? What do you mean?”

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

There was a lasting silence between you. Wonwoo felt like he might throw up for acknowledging the fact out loud, and his fist tightened in his lap as though to ground himself—to remember where he was and to breathe slowly, because having a panic attack on top of a stupid Ferris Wheel was the last place it should happen. He hadn’t even realized that you’d shifted closer, one leg curled beneath you while you spoke at the side of his head. But he didn’t hear you, couldn’t see you—there was a harsh void inside him that sounded like suctioning air and static. His fingernail was pressing so deeply into the flesh of his pale skin that it was beginning to faintly bleed.

And—all of a sudden—there were these hands cautiously gripping onto his face, pulling him toward you. He kept staring at the movement of your soft lips, focusing on their pronunciation until everything flooded back in one overwhelming whirl and it felt like being slammed by a freight train.

Wonwoo then grabbed onto your bare knee as a crutch. He didn’t mean to. But you didn’t seem to care.

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

He heaved in a gaping breath, feeling how cold the midnight air was in the thinning atmosphere that encompassed him. It was soothing, akin to a hand massaging along his back.

“Wonwoo?” You repeated his name, sounding awfully scared.

Pulling off his glasses, he rubbed at his eyes. He blurrily saw you touch the spot on your knee where his hand had buried into.

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

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

“It doesn’t matter.”

He thought you fight might it.

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

But you didn’t. Thank God.

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

“… Yeah?” There was a softer intrigue in your cadence.

Wonwoo looked at you. Fully this time. He looked straight into your eyes that were like a glossy, moonlit ocean, detailed with swirling riptides of surprise and apprehensiveness, but also immense depth that seemed genuinely appreciative of his gesture.

“I’m fine.”

And then he watched you nod, smile, and in return study his cavern eyes with the same intensity and wonder. It was such a peculiar experience, staring at you, understanding a little more of your truth, your gentleness.

He didn’t feel as scared.

—MAY 16TH.

Wonwoo had been standing before the mirror in his washroom for the past half-hour or so, primarily just staring, examining, and pulling at the long, limp fronds of his hair. There was a point in his life when he legitimately put effort into styling it, and all his old hair products were still sitting in the cabinet. Though, his ex-girlfriend had tended to help him with it most days, because he found the strands were just too thick and stubborn to work with.

However, since the Spring Street Fair, Wonwoo hadn’t been able to shake those comments you made—about how nicely his face could be framed and the smouldering nature of his features. He would never think to describe himself that way as it seemed particularly pompous and kind of foolish, but hearing you say it was different. The thing was, Wonwoo had no idea where to start, and attempting to rummage his fingers through his hair just didn’t feel as stimulating or electric compared to your meticulous, sweet touch.

In the midst of opening his cabinet for a comb, Wonwoo heard his phone vibrate. He looked down at the sink, seeing the screen brighten with a text notification from Vernon.

[ Vernon | 12:54 pm ]: hey Glasses

[ Vernon | 12:54 pm ]: Solar Pop at 2?

Wonwoo thought about it for a moment, running his thumb down the spine of the comb to hear the little thwip. And then he sighed in decision, texting back a thumbs up. It’s not like he was working later, and as much as Wonwoo would love to believe that today might be the day he made actual progress on his own story, he knew it was just wishful thinking. In reality he’d waste ample time staring into the document, pondering all the scenes and emotions and nuances he could write rather than moving to write anything at all.

Besides, he hadn’t eaten yet today. The thought of a juicy, sauce-slathered, bun-toasted burger being his first meal prompted the boy’s face to sallow greenly with sickness, but the longer he stood in the washroom, combing and slicking and running styling balm through the black bird’s nest on his head, Wonwoo felt the hunger start to bite like an emaciated, starved dog. He left his apartment knowing he would be somewhat late, but Vernon was always later.

And while Wonwoo sat in one of the booths at Solar Pop, flicking the laminated menu back and forth despite knowing the exact order he was going to place, he thought about sending Vernon another text to ask where the hell he even was. Wonwoo could only sip his slippery glass of coke for so long until the waitress decided he was crazy and had been one-hundred percent stood up.

“Hey, fuck, I’m here.”

2:24 pm—that’s when Vernon finally arrived, sliding himself into the leather bench opposite to Wonwoo while tossing his big, metallic clump of keys onto the table. The boy then proceeded to shimmy off his black jacket, propping his elbows onto the table.

If Vernon ever pulled a tardy stunt like that with you, Wonwoo imagined his friend would probably get stuffed into one of those boxes for sawing people in half. Except it wouldn’t be magic.

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

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

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

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

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

At that, Vernon began to grin, the metal on his pierced lip glinting underneath a ray of sunlight through the blinds. He was still occupied with choosing which burger he wanted. Wonwoo picked the same choice every time. Vernon always tried something different.

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

Finally, Vernon threw the menu down with conviction.

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

Wonwoo itched his nose. “Um, what?”

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

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

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

Before Wonwoo could answer, the waitress returned to the table with her small notepad and shiny pen. Vernon pitched his order first, and Wonwoo followed, asking for the regular quarter-pounder with a side of hot crinkle-cut fries. Once she whisked the menus away and promised to grab Vernon’s root beer float, Wonwoo realized he still had to answer his friend’s question. He didn’t exactly want to tell the truth, because he knew Vernon would never let him hear the end of it, but Wonwoo also didn’t want to be too dishonest.

“Your face is doin’ that thing.”

“What thing?” Wonwoo answered, swallowing his sip of soda.

Vernon crossed his arms on the table, accenting the canvas of darkly-inked tattoos needled into his skin. He shook his head.

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

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

“You’ve gotta drop that bullshit.”

“It’s true,” Vernon pressured.

“No, it’s not.”

As though to interpret Wonwoo’s steadfastness as a challenge, Vernon leaned further over the table, dropping his voice but still smiling devilishly through every word he mimicked between his teeth.

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

“Shut the fuck up. Please.”

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

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

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

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

“There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

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

Shit. When Vernon said it like that, Wonwoo seemed like a terrible friend. Maybe he did deserve a deal of teasing. But at the same time, Wonwoo knew how easy it was for your attitude to flip and he hadn’t been at all interested in starting the night with hostility.

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

“And?” Vernon raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“I’m sorry.”

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

The truth was, Wonwoo actually quite enjoyed his time with you that night—despite the transient, bickering hiccups and his nearly faltering panic attack, he had fun. Actual fun. Of course, as soon as your ride ended on the Ferris wheel, you’d clutched onto his hand like a snake sinking in its fangs and dragged him throughout the entirety of the fair to find a washroom. Nonetheless, he really loved playing some carnival games with you, like skee ball and the water pistol. He was even able to win you a pink stuffed bear that you had carried close to the chest for the remainder of your time at the fair.

Wonwoo thought he could spend another night like that with you again. Just to get out of his apartment, to feel exhilaration in the pit of his stomach, to laugh until his lungs dried out, to hold your warm, comforting hand in his even when it became too clammy or inconvenient because otherwise you would scold him for letting go.

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

“Yeah—how about you focus on chewing and not choking to death first,” Wonwoo sighed, watching his friend’s metaphorical tail wag.

Once she set the food down, inquiring about any refills, and left while flashing her perfected customer service smile, Vernon grabbed the burger with both his hands, taking a gigantic, succulent bite that somehow didn’t singe the roof of his mouth. Wonwoo winced, instead going for his crisped, golden fries.  

“Damn. You’re really that hungry?”

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

“I’m glad you’re so proactive," Wonwoo answered, sinking his burning hot fry into the small side-bowl of ketchup.

It took them less than half an hour to clean their plates. Wonwoo tended to eat at a slower pace, with smaller, more savoury bites, while Vernon sloppily devoured his entire burger and gobbled down his fries with the occasional dipping into the root beer float’s ice cream. They scarcely talked in between, too focused on eating and drinking. Wonwoo pushed away his plate when he’d finished and proceeded to wipe off his salty, crumb-speckled fingers with a napkin, meanwhile Vernon took a moment to sink backward into the leather seat, placing a hand over his full, satiated stomach.

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

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

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

He couldn’t deny that he was hoping to see a text from you, but there was nothing, and his chest dropped. Wonwoo decided to open the schedule you had made, curious as to what you were even doing today—work until five o’clock, and then you were going out for supper with some friends at Terra Cotta.

He thought about texting you. His thumbs kept hovering above the keyboard in contemplation, even though he knew for certain he wouldn’t text anything. He would just stare and hope.

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

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

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

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

Immediately, Wonwoo clicked off his phone, instead squinting into the distant corner of the restaurant where a notably tall, black-haired boy with tanned, amber skin had emerged from a doorway, standing in a somehow casual but imposing way that only be Mingyu.

It must be Mingyu, and that fact became glaringly obvious when Wonwoo made the unintentional, floundering mistake of staring straight into the boy’s wandering and earthen brown eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s coming, he’s—”

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

For some reason, Wonwoo thought he should be sinking into consternation a lot more than he actually was, but it’s not that his chest wasn’t thumping or his mind wasn’t spinning amuck with worry. It was more so that he was managing the whirlwind, as best he could, as much as he could manage. Mingyu wasn’t a complete stranger, and all their past interactions had been boringly cordial or even forgettable. Nonetheless, Wonwoo would still prefer to avoid the boy because that made his life simpler in the grand scheme of anxiety.

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

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

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

“Still there.”

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

“Aisle five if you ever need it.”

Mingyu responded with a smirk that perhaps lasted a second too long, and these slimming, analyzing eyes—a gaze that Wonwoo felt ripple in his gut. He chose to believe it was nothing dire, or else he would spiral right there on the spot and lose all fine-tuned control.

Meanwhile Vernon had been sitting quietly the entire time, most likely hoping he would remain in the dark, skulking shadows outside Wonwoo’s spotlight. But he must not have been hoping hard enough, because Mingyu proceeded to smile at him, again extending his hand for another dap, which Vernon yielded apprehensively.

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

“Mmhm. Yes sir.” To Vernon’s luck, he had a well-polished and gleaming smile that made it impossible for him to seem disingenuous, though Wonwoo knew he was wilting inside.

“I’m sorry about Dots.”

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

Mingyu nodded.

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

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

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

At that, Vernon looked straight to Wonwoo, and Wonwoo returned the enlarged, incinerating stare straight back, reading the split-second terror that swam like flopping fish in Vernon’s eyes. The atmosphere hit the ground with a palpable and ugly shatter.

“Yeah, um—about that—”

Mingyu then balanced backward on his foot for a moment, beginning to chuckle, sway his head, as though to dismiss the entire accusation in the same intense breadth it was mentioned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm.” He nodded simply in response, kissing his teeth.

Vernon folded his arms, leaning back into the leather seat with the toothpick again sitting in his mouth. “You got any plans for the summer, then? Doesn’t your pal always throw a huge party?”

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

A slow but gradual, catlike grin trudged the edges of Vernon’s mouth, to which he pulled out his toothpick and set his elbows onto the table. “Look, can’t chop it up here, man. Ask one of your friends for my burner. I can get you to the ski slope, but it costs, obviously.”

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

“Tough.”

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

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

“All good. Okay—later, guys.”

Mingyu stepped away from the table with a wave and a flash of his pearled, charming smile, nothing but the mild scent of his fresh and expensive-smelling cologne to swirl through the now vacant space. In true espionage fashion, Wonwoo and Vernon both picked open the slots between the restaurant curtains, cautiously observing the boy’s stride into the parking lot and onto the sidewalk, where he at last disappeared into the warm, sunny afternoon.

Heaving a gigantic exhausted breath, Wonwoo took off his glasses and set them in his lap, massaging deep into his eye sockets.

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

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

His friend laughed, banging his fist excitedly enough on the table to engender the silverware clattering on their plates. “Ha! I know, right? Dude—Seungcheol and Mingyu are the kingpins of that fuckin’ university you go to. They can cough up the big bucks for that shit. Just imagine the distribution pay I'm gonna get with them on my roster—actually, that couldn’t have gone better.”

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

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

“I don’t want him to use you.”

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

“No,” Wonwoo grumbled, “no way.”

“You don’t want to go?”

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

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

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

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

—MAY 19TH.

Wonwoo was going to your apartment today for the first time, and it had nearly killed him in the process.

His abhorrent sleep schedule hung over his head every single instance he woke up at lunchtime, the entirety of his mornings wasted to weathered heartbreak and its lasting, stained consequences. Needing to be at your apartment for ten had Wonwoo buckling his face into anguished hands the night before, wondering how he was going to pull off such a triumph without wishing for death.  

He did know one thing for certain—the sound of his alarm erupting into its timely, strident beeping made him instantly sick. In fact, the first thing Wonwoo did was half-stumble in complete bleariness out from his bed, dragging a white sheet along by his ankle as he burst into the washroom and hung his head over the toilet like he was sweating through a wicked hangover. But it wasn’t alcohol. It was months of bad, soul-stitched habit festered up in stomach bile and perhaps, a hatred for himself. It was his own fault, in a way.

And yet, when you texted him a half-hour later to reconfirm your address, Wonwoo replied with not the slightest hint that he was feeling pretty fucking terrible. The headache and shudders followed him down the street, onto the bus, and into the lobby of your notably opulent apartment complex. He felt rather incongruous amongst all the marble—the white trim, the clean, untainted air, even the breakfast table with dispensable lemon water and small, fruit-topped pastries that somehow made Wonwoo want to kill himself.

He looked down at his phone.

[ Her | 9:10 am ]: 717 thorton street, unit 61

[ Her | 9:45 am ]: are you almost here? :)

Wonwoo pressed the button to the elevator.

[ Wonwoo | 9:50 am ]: Yes. In the building.

His phone vibrated immediately with a text.

[ Her | 9:50 am ]: I’m so excited

The doors pulled apart. Wonwoo stepped aside for a couple who were leaving the elevator before he entered. Quickly, he clicked the button to close the doors, not wanting to share the space with anyone but himself and the headache throbbing at the forefront of his cranium. He sighed, glancing at his texts again to reply.

[ Wonwoo | 9:51 am ]: Do you have any Tylenol?

[ Her | 9:51 am ]: most def

[ Her | 9:51 am ]: what’s wrong?

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

When he didn’t receive an immediate answer, he assumed you had put the phone down to search your medicine cabinet. Getting off the elevator, Wonwoo proceeded to find the correct apartment. He put his fist up to the door, and then, at the last second, stopped.

There it was again—the same melting pot of anxiety and butterflies that had bubbled up when you first visited his place.

He supposed the feelings never truly disappeared each time he would see you, and he was beginning to detest it. Why couldn’t his body just adapt? Get over it? What purpose did it serve to constantly remind him of his unkempt emotions? It was like the idea of you terrified him more than you as an actual person, because in person, he felt comfort, as crazy as it sounded. So why couldn’t his anxiety and security just complete that stupid sliver of a synapse for once?

Knock knock.

After a moment, the handle clicked, and the door to sumptuous unit 61 was pulled open. For the first time, Wonwoo saw your face without any makeup, and it sort of made him stutter in his words—not that he was shocked in abhorrence at the contrast, more so the vulnerability behind it, the fact you felt comfortable enough to shed your compulsion with always presenting a perfect, glamoured face. He was pleased to see you were in a fuzzy pair of pink shorts and a white, thin long-sleeve that were basically pyjamas.

Maybe it was weird to think, but you seemed more human.

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

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

“I would obviously say tour first, but I have your Tylenol sitting on the counter over here, for your headache. Can you dry swallow or do you need water?”

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

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

“Lucky me,” he sighed.

Taking a seat at one of stools displayed around the large, granite-surface island, Wonwoo waited for you to pour him some water. Obviously, the apartment was spacious, gorgeous—the large, white-fluffed rug in the centre of the living room was definitely suited to you, though he was surprised by the tall, lush potted plants aligned by the window panelling. He didn’t know you had a green thumb.

While placing down the water, you shifted closely into the seat beside him, and Wonwoo could smell the scent of strawberries on your skin. You let your chin press into the hammock made with your hands, watching as he set the pill on his tongue and gulped it down.

“So, is it really bad?”

Wonwoo turned the glass back and forth atop its coaster, deciding on whether or not he should tell the truth. It always tended to sting him when he lied, and so he turned to you, shrugging.

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

“Oh, I get that sometimes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About what?” Wonwoo answered.

“Oh, well—never mind, then.”

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

You started to grin, hiding half your face with a hand that slowly scraped across your cheek, as though to rub off any remaining lethargy from the morning light. Wonwoo waited for you to answer.

“… I look like a mole.”

He at last realized what you meant.

“No, you don’t.”

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

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

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

“I know. I guess I'm just not very used to the feeling of people seeing me like this. Did you want to do lunch later?”

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

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

“You didn’t eat?”

“No appetite.”

“I’ll fix you something. Unfortunately, no cereal. But I'll get some the next time Mingyu and I do groceries. So, what do you like best? Toast? Oatmeal? Scrambled eggs and toast? Orange juice? Bagel?”

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

“I like toast.”

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

Wonwoo watched you squeeze off the stool and open the fridge to pull out a plastic bag of bread. He watched you stand on your tiptoes to reach into the highest cupboard and grab a plate. He watched you pop open a jar of fresh raspberry jam and slot the bread into the toaster. He could watch you do anything, it seemed.

Anything at all.

It took Wonwoo about half an hour to eat his raspberry toast and skim through the newest additions to your document. You were getting more into the thick of your relationship with Mingyu—just as you’d warned—but Wonwoo was able to gloss most cloying paragraphs without too much bitterness or personal weight clouding his possible critiques. Wonwoo was still seated at the island, meanwhile you were lying face down on the plump-cushioned couch, an arm dangling off the side. In a morbid way, you looked very much dead if not for the shallow rising and dipping of your back.

“Done, for the most part.”

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

“After lunch. Is that okay?”

“Mmhm.”

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

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

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

“It was fun. Mingyu wasn’t the biggest fan, but I had always wanted to go. There was this huge skeleton of a blue whale, and sometimes the museum would play the whale’s ballad—” you flopped onto your back, staring up at the ceiling with a tender, ardent laugh as your fingers twirled the fluffy knots of the throw, “—it used to scare Mingyu so bad. He kept telling me he was gonna leave our date unless we went to another exhibit.”

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

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

He huffed in response, ��my bad.”

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

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

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

After Wonwoo cleaned off the granite island, he came to join you in the living room, the white rug resembling what he imagined a cloud to feel like underneath his socked feet.

A thought had suddenly popped into his head.

“There’s a nature museum here, too.”

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

“I know.”

“Have you ever gone?”

“No. Not at all. I did ask Mingyu once when we first came here for university. But I think he was still mortified from the whale thing. I dunno. Anyway, is that your round-about way of asking if I ever want to go? Because I would, to help with the story.”

Wonwoo scratched along his collarbone, heated with the itch of being blatantly exposed for his plotting. However, he hadn’t suggested the museum with the intention of employing it as a visual to sharpen up your scene-work. He was hoping to go just for the sake of it—like a palate cleanser, as you had previously mentioned.

But he obviously wasn’t going to articulate that.

“We can plan it more later,” he said.

The tour started in the living room, which Wonwoo had become well acquainted with throughout his half hour of sitting at the kitchen island, occasionally flicking his eyes toward the couch to ensure you were still alive. You explained that the pristine white rug was a housewarming gift from Mingyu’s parents when you first moved into the apartment, and he felt guilty for even stepping on it.

He decided to ask about the plants by the windows.

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

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

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

Wonwoo bit back a stupid little smile as he followed you into your bedroom—the place you seemed most enthralled for him to finally see. You twirled into the open space and threw the blanket off your shoulders, then whipping your hands into the air akin to a magician who’d just performed the most grandiose magic trick.

“Tada! Bedroom reveal!”

He pushed up his glasses, taking a good, solid look around at everything he could: the prestigious makeup vanity with the drawers left half-open, your dresser, lined with photographs of what he assumed to be friends, family, and Mingyu, the beaded, dangling chandelier, the ajar closet doors that revealed your unsurprising magnitude of outfits—skirts and dresses and professional blazers and lascivious things from threads of lace and silk. He finally looked to your beautiful bed, which you proceeded to flop onto.

“This is my favourite part,” you hummed.

Taking some further steps into the bedroom, Wonwoo began recognizing smaller details, though he couldn’t explain what he was feeling. He always thought a bedroom was such a personal, intimate space, like a treasure chest stuffed with memories and pieces of person’s essence that couldn’t be captured using words alone. To sit on someone’s bed, or sift through their drawers for a pen, or even grab a shirt from their closet—he felt it was all so… sacred. It was the reason he had such a hard time having others in his bedroom.

“The bed is your favourite?” He wondered.

“Yes,” you giggled, a glimmer flashing into your eyes like diamonds in the sun as you climbed onto your knees.

Before Wonwoo knew what was happening, you had clutched a hand into his shirt and jerked him toward the covers. He landed beside you, and his heart thrust with electricity.

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

“Nope.”

“Bed’s comfy.”

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

“Hey, you should have seen the bed I had growing up in Changwon. My older brother and I, we hated it. Shit was like sleeping on a piece of cardboard. It didn’t get better for years.”

Propping your head onto a pillow, you continued to smile prettily at him with those entrancing eyes, and for a second, this piercing fear struck in the core of Wonwoo’s chest that he had just spoke about himself—actually spoke about himself—in a manner that screamed of vulnerability. He felt terror. Why did he do that?

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

At least you didn’t push into the topic. You were getting better at that, almost like you could interpret the subtle tweaks in his face or the stiffening of his bones. Wonwoo rested his elbows on his knees.

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

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

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

For a moment, his eyes lingered unfaithfully on your exposed midriff, down to the fluffy hem of those pink lounge shorts. He squeezed his wrist tight, practically stopping his own blood flow, willing himself not to think anything unhinged that would simmer up to fuel his self-hatred later. The longer your head spent sinking into that plump pillow, the more your lids fluttered with sleep. As he continued to gaze about the room, he spotted the pink stuffed bear that he’d won you at the Spring Street Fair, sitting atop your bedside table.

“You’ve still got that?”

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

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

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

“What?”

“Miss Priss.”

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

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

“Hm. Funny.”

You rolled your eyes.

Wonwoo tapped his wrist, thinking.

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

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

“Actually?”

“Yeah. I mean, that's what I told my parents, at least. They used to really push for us to have an apartment together. Which makes sense. They freaking love him. I swear, more than me," you laughed, picking at your shirt. "I get it, too. Mingyu and I have pretty much been tied at the hip all these years. But we agreed that we wouldn't live together until things went to the next level. He does keep a lot of his stuff here for when he does stay over, and vice versa. He’s got an extra key and everything, his own nightstand, bathroom stuff.”

“And that’s for certain?”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, most people are surprised to learn we don’t live together. I guess we really give off the impression that we're together in most things, if not everything. It's good to get a little space, though."

“Well, I understand it—wanting to have your own space. I mean, I think everyone should try living alone, just once if they have to. You learn more about yourself, I suppose.”

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

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

“Ha—you learned how to be a hermit.”

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

“Yeah, but probably not that bad.”

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

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

“Damn. Just call me a loser.”

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

Wonwoo managed to hold the penetrating, spirited strength of your gaze, and he was proud of himself for doing so, even if his heart felt like it was going to leap into his throat. It was still difficult for him to be routinely engaged in eye contact, but he knew how much you appreciated it—the feeling of being listened to and experiencing someone’s dedication to presenting their full attention.

Since it was getting close to lunch time, Wonwoo figured you might want to start thinking of where to eat. He was getting notably hungry, and having to function off some toast coated thinly in raspberry jam wouldn’t be enough to power him throughout his proofreading. He pulled out his phone, wanting to check the time, and began sliding off your comfortable, warm bed.

“Did you want to—”

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

Oh no.

His stomach writhed.

Wonwoo started praying it wasn’t about his and Vernon’s encounter with Mingyu at Solar Pop—not that anything particularly terrible or concerning had happened—but maybe Mingyu had mentioned something to you. Maybe he didn’t like Wonwoo and thought it was best you stop writing together, stop seeing each other.

His mind started quivering with a steadfast hurricane of awful thought and Wonwoo knew the flushed colour had most likely drained from his face as quickly as a popped balloon.

Your hand remained on his bicep, squeezing it.

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

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

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

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

The conversation began with a clunk of silence, to which you glanced down at the bed for a moment, clearly biting on your inner cheek in contemplation. Wonwoo desperately wanted you to spit it out. He hated when empty words hung so burdensomely in the air.

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

“Oh… okay.”

And then you were looking at him, not with any sort of accusation or anger or even disappointment. Somehow, Wonwoo knew what you were going to say, and he braced himself for it.

“Do you… do you have anxiety?”

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

You breathed out heavily in response.

“Okay, silence, I definitely saw that coming—but, um, I’m not stupid, you know? Your face just gets so pale, and I feel like I can see the heartbeat in your chest… and you always do that thing with your fist. Clenching it. It always looks so painful but you never seem to care and—anyway—I just… I can tell when it happens and it kind of bothers me that you try to like, shrug it off or call it ‘spacing out’ when it’s really clearly not. And, maybe that’s my fault.”

His gaze had shifted to lock with yours.

Again, you weren’t staring at him with any malice or dejection—he’d come to learn that your eyes were actually quite soft most of the time, soft but always glittering, like a handful of silk. Still, Wonwoo couldn’t yet find his words, which must have come across as remarkably shocking for someone who spent their whole life grabbing all the shiny bits of possible vernacular.

You sat up straighter, touching his knee.

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

Wonwoo at last cleared his throat.

“I don’t talk about it with anyone.”

“Okay, I get that. But, did I make you feel like you couldn’t bring it up? At all?” Your fingers dug a little harder into his knee, though Wonwoo knew you probably hadn’t realized it. “I just—I do want to know, actually. Because sometimes I let myself get in the way of being present for other people. But I care. I honestly do.”

He nodded, cracking his knuckles.

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

You folded your legs in similar fashion to Wonwoo.

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

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

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

No. He took nothing. He did nothing. Wonwoo just sat and suffered and felt no initiative to help himself. At that point, he really didn’t want to dissect the topic any further. He could sense the slithering under his skin, the way his body physically bristled like a perturbed cat at the thought of having to be any more open than what he'd already shared. The choices he made in his life weren’t important if he was going to end up back in the same slippery trench.

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

—JUNE 2ND.

About two weeks had passed since Wonwoo visited your apartment. Afterward, you had met up four times to continue writing and making small ventures to places that you deemed vital for developing your story. Wonwoo found himself enjoying most trips.

He remembered the ice cream shop. Apparently, it was the date where Mingyu had officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You had gotten their most popular strawberry cheesecake flavour while Wonwoo ordered mint chocolate chip, which was a rather boring but favourite classic of his. No doubt, you sat across from him on their outside patio the entire time, pitting remarks about how awful his choice was in lieu of writing anything down in your document. With every spoonful he ate, Wonwoo had to keep reminding you to stay focused, and eventually, his repetitious ordering worked.

"Did you actually come here to get any writing done or did you just want the ice cream? We're not palate-cleansing are we?"

"Why can't two things be true at once?"

“Can I see your laptop?”

“No—hey! Don’t try to grab it!”

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

"For your information, I have a bullet-point list going."

"Oh, yeah. A bullet-point list, hm?"

"Yes. It has all my major writing points. Point number one: Mingyu seats me down at the table. He's clearly nervous. We've only been in the shop for a minute or two and he won't stop brushing his hair behind his ears. Point number two: Mingyu grabs our ice cream from the counter. He gives me his flavour, rocky road, by accident, and then we awkwardly laugh and switch. Point number three: I remember thinking his nerves were endearing, and—"

"Okay, okay. I get it."

"Exactly. Let this be a lesson in poor assumption. Don't try to assume anything about me, Wonwoo. It's probably wrong."

And then there had been the journey to Mooney’s Bay, one of the most well-known beaches outside the city—probably because the lake actually looked a clean, salty blue and the soft sand wasn’t littered with drifting pieces of plastic. It had been the first place Wonwoo took his brother when he came to visit from his office in Korea, and the picture they had taken together with their pant legs cuffed up, standing knee deep in the water, was still pinned to the corkboard in Wonwoo’s bedroom. However, Wonwoo hadn’t been back to the beach since, until you dragged him there in an hour-long car ride. He had mostly looked out the window, thinking, as always.

You said that Mooney’s Bay reminded you of a cove from your hometown, a more clandestine one, where you and Mingyu used to splash around in the isolated, iridescent waters at night, laughing into the chilled breeze and coughing up all the liquid splatted into the other’s face. Wonwoo had used the video camera to record some footage of the beach per your request. By evening, most people had packed up their coolers and umbrellas and sun towels, granting him more freedom to film wider, panned shots. He remembered standing at the foam shoreline, feeling the sand squelch wetly under his bare feet, recording you wading further and deeper into the water that reflected like a bleeding, scarlet portrait of stained glass.

“It feels amazing! You should come in!”

“I can’t. It’ll ruin the camcorder.”

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

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

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

"But—"

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

"Well, I don't know... I, uh—I can't swim."

"This isn't swimming, this is wading. Just go up to your knees. It's been a hot, long day. I think this will help get the scowl off your face."

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

The third location, while not his favourite, had been an open bar that was conveniently placed a few streets over from his job at the pharmacy. Wonwoo had went there a number of times with Vernon in the past, usually after he finished a midterm or handed in some grating assignment, though Vernon tended to drink more than his body could sufficiently handle. By the end of the night, Wonwoo would most often find himself being a mediator between his tattooed, foul-mouthed friend and whatever blundering, equally drunk idiot he happened to be arguing with.

It was too much for his anxiety.

Nonetheless, he’d met you there after work despite the churning cauldron of memories that he harboured, unsurprised to find you seated at a small table swarmed with dewy drinks and shots that interested observers had sent over. Wonwoo felt each digging, plying stare that sculpted against his back as he sat beside you—he even choked down one of your retched tequila shots (while not the best idea), hoping it would mellow him out.

You never really explained why the bar was pertinent to your history with Mingyu—or, maybe you had, and Wonwoo was simply one flaming shot past coherent of properly digesting your words. He did, however, remember your entire, almost scientific explanation of why you liked wearing low-cut or heavily revealing tops at the bar, and Wonwoo had listened along as best he could manage, even when that floating sensation started hazing through his mind. At one point, this girl who Wonwoo had never encountered once in his life came up to him with a polite tap on his shoulder and an inquiring smile.

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

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

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

“No, I’m good. Thank you.”

“O-Oh. Wait… are you… being serious?”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

“Then you have sex with her, yeah?”

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

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

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

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just asking.”

“I don’t know.”

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

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

“No, not that. I mean the fact you never really want to discuss anything about yourself. Honestly, sometimes talking to you is like pulling teeth, y’know? Anyway, move back a little. Backwards cap with the earrings has been staring on and off for the last ten minutes and I want one more free shot before I call it a night.”

The most recent place you had been together was the popular drive-in at Richmond’s Farm. Wonwoo knew that in the autumn months leading up to Halloween, the venue was turned into a haunted carnival with all the typical attractions: pumpkin patches, horror movie screenings, corn mazes, and masked, fake blood-spattered psychopaths chasing people around with a roaring chainsaw.

Seokmin, despite being quite weak-stomached and completely disastrous when it came to anything horror-related, had actually implored Wonwoo to go the year before after hearing the raves about their newest House of Nightmares, although Wonwoo declined in order to study for a test.

Really, there was no test.

Wonwoo just hadn’t been in the mood for losing all his hair and being crammed into pitch black, narrow corridors with a murderer promptly waiting around the corner. He hoped Seokmin wouldn’t ask him again this year—then his excuse would be obvious.

In the spring and summer, however, the farm mostly broadcast screenings at their drive-in theatre behind the maize field, and you had leaped at the opportunity to go because it was the perfect chance to relive one of your favourite dates with Mingyu. By your explanation, he’d taken you to see Crazy, Stupid, Love before you two had departed your hometown for university. But the drive-in obviously wasn’t playing that movie, and so you two had to settle for watching their only available screening, 500 Days of Summer.

Wonwoo hated that movie.

Of course, he hadn’t told you that.

Before the movie had started, Wonwoo helped you throw down a blanket into your trunk alongside some couch pillows that you grabbed from your apartment, creating a makeshift lounge in the rear of the car. Since the screening was late at night—and way past your typical good girl bedtime—you were worried about falling asleep halfway into the movie, though Wonwoo promised he would keep an eye on you to ensure you wouldn’t miss anything important.

Since it was too dark to film anything of quality on the camcorder, Wonwoo left you alone in the blanket-pillow trunk to scribble down any nostalgic, limerent sentiments while he grabbed some snacks. You had told him to get gummy bears, because you hated the way broken pieces of popcorn kernel shells would sliver between your teeth and dig into your gums, neither did you want a soft drink since it would be an abundance of sugar before bed, and it always resulted in a breakout the next morning. He was able to make it back to the car just before the screening started.

He remembered how strange it all seemed, sitting so close to you underneath the blanket, occasionally feeling your elbow dig into his arm or your knee bump his thigh, and the sharp blip it would cause in his pulse. Wonwoo remembered how often you complained about the temperature throughout the movie—first, it’s too hot, now, it’s too cold, you’re too close to me, you’re too far away and I’m cold again, I need the blanket, I don’t want the blanket—Wonwoo hadn’t realized a person’s body temperature could fluctuate that drastically. 

However, the worst part of that night happened about half an hour before the movie ended, just when Wonwoo was beginning to feel relieved about going home. You were getting sleepier by the minute, and Wonwoo could tell from the yawning every now and then, wanting desperately to rub at your eyes but refusing because it would smother the mascara into somewhat concerning, black whorls.

You had nudged his arm, and when he glanced over at your face, exhausted and half-illuminated under the watery, bright cast of light from the screen, you asked him in a quiet, dulcet voice: “is it okay if I rest my head on your shoulder for a few minutes?”

Wonwoo had wanted to say no—of course you can’t, because if you do, I will sit here stiff, and hardly breathing, and listening only to my own heartbeat. It will be the sole thing I’ll think about for the next three days no matter what I do to mask the memory. I’ll keep thinking about it until you burn out in my mind like a star.

But then Wonwoo had agreed instead.

He proceeded to clench his fist upon feeling the weight of your head sink softly to his shoulder. Your legs had been curled up underneath you, and your knees were then pressing flush against his leg. Every breath he inhaled was faintly tainted with the scent of your sweet, fragrant shampoo and it was fucking killing him.

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

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

“You sure?”

“I’m sure… what?”

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

“Fuck, not that again.”

“I have to know!”

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

That had been four days ago.

Now, it was almost midnight. Wonwoo was sitting on the roof of his apartment with a messily rolled up blunt in his fingers—the second one he prepared, mostly out of impatience—drawing in a slow and deep breath that ghosted from his lips like wispy fog flowing down a shallow hill. He then coughed twice by his elbow, attempting to clear the stinging prickle that caught against his throat.

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

“No! I’m not.”

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

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

He smiled at the sound of your voice crackling through his phone, which he’d been holding with the latter hand. Breathing in another hit, Wonwoo pulled at the sides of his black beanie, grinning through the thin cloud that was exhaled in a quick, neat puff.

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

“I told you.”

“No—you fucking didn’t. You said something vague and ambiguous that could have meant literally anything. All I had to go off were some sing-songy praises from Seokmin.”

“I give you pretty good notes, though.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“So I must be decent.”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

“Mmhm.”

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

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Wonwoo repositioned the phone in his hand.

“From time to time, yeah.”

“What strain?”

“Northern Lights.”

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

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

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

He let the blunt hang from the corner of his mouth for a moment, a very fluttery-feeling smile taking shape. Not wanting you to hear that slight bit of giddiness in his tone, Wonwoo took another hit, holding the smoke in for longer than usual before exhaling.

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

“Oh—the nature museum?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

“Yeah, you should get some sleep.”

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

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

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

“How did I say it?”

“Like you were pushing me off the phone!”

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

“That seems fair.”

“Great. So, goodnight then.”

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

“Why?”

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

“Uh, okay then... I’m listening.”

“Goodnight!”

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

“Goodnight.”

—JUNE 7TH.

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

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

Wonwoo was sat across from you, waiting for you to finish the heated-up carton box of creamy mushroom pasta that you’d raided out his freezer. He’d tried his best to eat beforehand as well, but the most he could stomach was some milk and cereal in addition a handful of blueberries. It was still better than his usual routine, which involved skipping any sort of meal post lunchtime.

“If you really needed to, I’m sure you could take a couple pictures,” Wonwoo answered, brushing a hand through his styled, pristine black hair that you had earlier littered with a flustering spiel of compliments. “I doubt the exhibits will be exactly the same, but if it's more so to capture the feeling, then it won’t matter much.”

You patted the corner of your mouth upon finishing the last few noodles left in the box, nodding your head in agreement.

“My journal’s in my bag. It should be fine.”

Wonwoo flipped over his phone to check the time.

“How was the SSA meeting yesterday?”

“Oh—I didn’t go.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asked while settling back in his chair, watching you toss the fork into the carton. “How come?”

“Because, it’s mostly pointless. We always sit there, in front of all those old, crusty men, trying to explain to them how we can improve the campus, the student experience, blah blah. And they act like they’re legitimately consuming our input, using phrases like: ‘oh, we hear you, we understand, we’re gonna try our hardest’—just for them to put, what? Another fucking seating area in the dining hall that no one asked for or cares about? It’s totally ridiculous.”

“Hm, yeah.”

“Anyways, I hate being on it. I hate going. I understand it looks good and whatnot, but it’s a huge waste of my time.”

Wonwoo picked up the pasta box, continuing to hum his agreement while taking it into the kitchen. He dropped the fork into the sink and folded up the cardboard to stuff into his recycling.

“It’s one meeting. A skip won’t kill you, or them.”

“That’s what I’m saying. Mingyu thinks I went, though. So, if you run into him or something and the topic fucking miraculously pops up—just don’t give anything away. It’s a little white lie.”

Coming back to the dining table, Wonwoo snatched up his wallet and shoved it into his back pocket, raising an eyebrow.

“Why wouldn’t you tell him?”

You pushed back in the chair, sighing heavily.

“He really thinks I should stick with it.”

Wonwoo didn’t say anything in response. He simply nodded, not wanting to hover on Mingyu as a conversation piece for too long, and waited for you to shoulder on your purse.

“Okay,” you then smiled, “let’s go look at some nature.”

Despite their boring, lacklustre reputation, Wonwoo had always enjoyed going to museums—art, history, science—he’d even been to a museum that delved into ancient coin minting and the development of currency. He supposed it was his appreciation for learning new information of his own free will, unlike the fast-paced, passion-draining, wringer system that was university. Furthermore, he was surprised that you would share his interest in the matter.

“Why wouldn’t I like museums?” You had stopped just before the acclaimed beetle species wall, aglow behind a glass sheet. “I wrote in my draft that Mingyu and I went to a nature museum, remember?”

“I know. I’m just surprised you have that much of an interest in them. Your life seems so upbeat. I didn’t think you would be into something that most people find fairly dry and anticlimactic.”

“Right.” Twirling back around, you continued walking down the corridor, your eyes tracing the organized arrangement of lustre-shelled beetles. “Because everyone else is too stupid and you’re the true upper echelon who actually possesses the mental capability required to appreciate something as seemingly trivial but totally enriching as…” you then paused at the glass, squinting to read the embossed label below an oblong-shaped beetle with an iridescent green shell, “… as the Chrysochroa Fulgidissima? I don’t know, something like that—also known as the Jewel Beetle. Its species is native to Japan and Korea. It’s a… woodboring beetle?”

“Why would I know?” Wonwoo laughed, coming to stand beside you and look at the plaque settled to the white background behind the display glass. “You’re the one reading it.”

“Ugh—doesn’t matter. I was going somewhere with my speech and now I forget… oh, yeah! So, you think you’re smarter than me?”

Placing a gentle hand on your lower back, Wonwoo urged you to keep walking forward in order to let the people faintly mumbling behind you examine the wall, who seemed much more interested.

“I never said that,” he answered softly.

“Okay—but, do you think you’re smarter?”

“In what sense?”

“Did you take the Frontiers evaluation for calculus?”

“Yes.”

“What’d you score?”

“9.8.”

“Shut the fuck up! No you didn’t.”

Wonwoo merely tapped the black-framed glasses further up his nose, smirking slightly, and began shaking his head while continuing down the exhibit. You hurried after him, remembering to lower your voice to match the collective quietness.

“Prove it,” you whispered.

“Go to prof Bradbrook’s office. My name’s on her wall.”

“I hate you.”

“Why? What did you score?”

“I’m obviously not going to say it now.”

Wonwoo still remembered the day his test score came back—he’d opened the envelope in Miss Bradbrook’s office, and while she sat across from him, practically squirming and jittering with anticipation, Wonwoo had glossed over the paper slip with the smallest, most low effort smile. He knew he was supposed to feel relieved in that moment—overjoyed probably—to realize his notable success and the upstanding conformation he was legitimately good at something. But in truth, he hadn’t really felt anything at all. He sort of just smiled. That was it. That was all he could muster.

And his life had mirrored that moment ever since. In the past, it would come and go. Yet, that day, it just stuck. The only time he ever experienced any glint or sparkle of happiness, it had come from his girlfriend—but even she couldn’t imbue much from him that day.

“Well, that’s not what I expected you to ask.”

You glanced over at him, adjusting the bag on your arm.

“Meaning?”

“There are different types of intelligence. I thought you meant, in a more general sense, am I smarter, or more knowledgeable. To be honest, I can’t say. I mean, I feel like I’ve experienced and seen a whole lot, but that’s just life’s illusion.”

“You won’t really know ‘til you’re on your death bed.”

Wonwoo returned your glance, squinching his brown eyes in a judgemental but innocuous way that gave bloom to his smile.

“Thanks.”

“I can’t help it. Museums make me think of death. I think it’s the really cold, still air. Especially in nature museums where they need to preserve things. Like, look at that fox. It’s a bit ominous.”

On the exhibit to his right, Wonwoo observed another display protected by glass. There was a fox, with a rusty, auburn coloured coat, poised atop a fake precipice of grass. Wonwoo knew what you meant—it was the eyes, like two leaf green beads, so immensely detailed but lifeless to an almost uncomfortable degree.

“I want to see the aquarium exhibit next,” you said, tugging twice at Wonwoo’s sleeve. “I heard it’s really dark in there.”

“Well, we can go take a look.”

“And we can eat afterward? There’s an atrium.”

“Sure.”

Wonwoo let your arm link with his, following the natural flow of museum-goers into the next exhibit, leaving behind the shiny, colourful wall of beetles and the auburn fox in its lonesome enclosure.

The aquarium exhibit was one of the most spacious in the entire museum, placed in a large, dome-topped room, with shadows creeping at every corner. There were some lights—deep, blue lights that rippled and wriggled across the floor, like waves patterned against ocean sand by the sun rays. He didn't know from where, but he could hear water sloshing, a very soft sound that led him to imagine the wet sand squelching under his toes.

You approached another display wall, filled with a school of lemon-yellow and azure coloured fish placed around vibrant, unique corals.

While you busied yourself with reading the informative plaque, Wonwoo spent his time taking a more in-depth inspection around the mystifying exhibit. He noted the stingrays and luminous jellyfish flocking above his head, held on near-invisible little wires that would occasionally glimmer if they twisted the perfect angle.

After a generously long venture throughout the room, reading all the plaques and pointing to different fish behind the glass just to comment, “I think that was in Finding Nemo,” you had wanted to sit down, spotting a bench positioned before an aquarium.

Wonwoo agreed, and you collapsed on the bench together.

There was a period of comfortable silence where you both watched the aquarium, meanwhile the dappling, blue pattern cast to the floor danced and flickered around at your still feet. The atmosphere seemed so vivid that Wonwoo was surprised the next breath he took wasn’t a mouthful of liquid and sea salt, or that his body wasn’t miraculously suspended and floating about in the echoey shadows.

And that’s when Wonwoo decided he liked the aquatic exhibit very much—more than all the others.

He looked down at the hands folded in his lap, specifically at the scarred, ruined cuticle belonging to his right thumb and how it had withstood years of his anxious scratching. Wonwoo then breathed out softly, feeling his heartbeat begin to pick up.

“Want to know something?” He asked.

You stared back at Wonwoo with an intrigued pique of your brow.

“Like what?”

“Well, first of all, we both took creative writing, you know.”

"Uh, okay," you sniffed, "sure."

"No, like, we took the course together. In the fall. Prof T?"

"Really?" You pinned him down in a non-believing stare. "Wait, you're talking about that basement auditorium, right? In Gildan Hall? It always smelt like old computers and dust bunnies?"

"That's the one."

Scoffing out some dry air, you leaned back.

"Woah. I don't think I ever saw you... did you go to each class?"

He nodded a few times. "Almost all. To be fair, I sat more in the back, off to the corner. I wasn't exactly thrusting myself into the limelight."

Folding one leg over your knee, you chuckled. "Sounds like you."

“I have this really specific memory from that class, when that random guy, whoever he was, sat in the seat you always took. Your so called unofficially-assigned-assigned-seat. And I remember that really tense feeling right before you walked in, because we all knew you were gonna chew him out for it. The way you marched straight up to him was already violating enough, and then you basically ruined his whole day.” Looking down at his hands again, Wonwoo smiled at recalling the memory. “You absolutely terrified me. I don’t even think you understand how much I wanted to avoid you.”

He caught your eyes, shimmering like the water-stained floor, with an emotion he couldn’t place.

“Actually?” Was all you said, hardly sounding surprised.

“Yeah.”

Your face began searching around the shadowed, sloshing exhibit for something unseen. He decided to let the silence settle like a thin sheet, instead listening to the tidal pushing and pulling. The soft sounds reminded him of being a child, wandering beaches into the late evening with his older brother during summer vacations, and picking up shells just to hear the ocean speaking inside them.

Aloud, you breathed in, shaking your foot.

“I can’t really remember what was going through my head that day. I know I’d had a fight with Mingyu before going to class, so I was feeling pretty amped up and short-fused. I knew I was going straight to another SSA meeting that I hardly cared about immediately after, and then I would work until the evening. I knew I would have to make dinner when I got home, even though I’d be downright exhausted, and the next morning, I’d have to wake up early to attend some bullshit press, social, interview breakfast thing for my mom’s new lifestyle magazine. Having that idiot sit in my favourite seat was probably just the straw that broke the camel’s back, I guess.”

“Hm,” Wonwoo hummed, suddenly experiencing a profound sympathy for you that he never imagined he would feel. “When you give it a bit more perspective, it doesn’t sound so…”

“Completely and utterly bitchy?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to use that word, but, sure.”

You grinned at him through the dusky rippling of auroras that flitted across the exhibit, seeming like you were under the sea—and he was, too, sitting side by side in the somehow peaceful depths of the chaotic whirlpool that had pulled you two together.

“I have a memory.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo returned your grin, “I want to hear it.”

“So, remember earlier how we were talking about the Frontiers evaluation for Bradbrook’s calculus class?”

“Mmhm.”

"So, after all the Frontiers scores came out, I'm not gonna lie—I really thought I had one of the better marks. It's not like I specifically trotted around, throwing out my grade to anyone passing by, but I was parading a little bit to my friends. And then, like, Clara or something, told me that there was this guy who almost got a ten. I asked her who, and she said she didn't know—just that she overheard some of the basketball guys talking about it.

I thought she was lying. I didn't say that, though. But I remember it was on my mind every night. Like, it was itching me so bad. I wanted to know who the fuck was smart enough to get a damn near perfect ten on Frontiers. Some of those problems are ridiculously hard. I started writing nonsense around A-block. They straight up give students problems that serious, esteemed mathematicians can't fucking solve. So, honestly... I was quite jealous of you... despite not even knowing who you were. I can't believe that was you, asshole."

Wonwoo cracked his knuckles, beginning to laugh at that intense but lighthearted glare you were sending his way. Of course, you mellowed everything out with a big smile he felt his heart skip a beat over. You had actually went to bed thinking about him.

Holy fuck.

Maybe not him in physicality. But in spirit.

That was close enough.

"I just did the study guide." He shrugged.

Your knee pushed into his. "Oh, yeah, the study guide. Jeez, why didn't I think of doing that? Let me go kill myself right now."

"Keep tabs on it for next time."

With a roll of the eyes, you laughed almost to scorn him.

“I hate people like you.”

And Wonwoo laughed back. “Meaning?”

“Things come to you so naturally. You don’t have to try.”

“Sure,” Wonwoo agreed, scratching his nose and proceeding to nudge up his glasses, “things like mathematics, numbers, problem solving, taking something whole apart and then looking at its pieces. I guess it does come to me naturally. I can’t complain. But there are also plenty of things that don’t. And… if I could, I’d probably trade all my stupid math and logic and puzzling for what I’m missing.”

You tilted your head, staring intently at Wonwoo through the blue sea between you, almost into his brain, it felt like.

“What are you missing?”

At first, Wonwoo didn’t respond. To answer your question meant an intimate exhumation of the flaws that he’d been willfully ignoring for the past year, if not his entire damn life. It meant at last turning over the round, flat rock that had been sitting at the foot of his wooden porch since childhood, and realizing the bottom was sculpted with the grittiest texture and wet with the thickest dirt. The rock was hiding long-legged spiders and ugly, skittering bugs and it would have probably been better to let the rock sit there, untouched, only facing the warm and comfortable glow of the sun.

Wonwoo didn’t want to turn the rock.

Not at all.

“A plethora of things, I’m sure.”

Squeezing onto your wrist, you smiled at him.

“I think I’m the opposite.”

“How so?”

He watched you inhale a long, slow breath, and then huff it all out through your nose. Wonwoo bumped his knee against yours.

“You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

“No, no. It’s not like that…”

Looking up to the glowing aquarium, the dull light reflected back unto your face, and Wonwoo again saw the glisten in your eyes.

“I just feel…” for a moment, your chest stilled, “… I feel like I’m so much of everything that I just blend into nothing. You know, like when a child takes a whole bunch of paints and squirts them all together thinking it’s going to create this beautiful, never-before-seen new colour? But, instead, it’s just greyish-brownish, nothing.”

Your face turned back to him. Wonwoo watched you chew down on your bottom lip, meanwhile your eyes glazed aloof, off to the side, as though you were rummaging through so many different thoughts and experiences that it required your utmost mental focus.

“And—” you swallowed tightly, and it sounded so painfully dry with stinging emotion, “—I just don’t want people to see that I’m so much of nothing. I just find myself covering it all up.”

Were you going to cry? Wonwoo felt himself jolt inwardly with panic. He had never seen you cry and he had therefore never developed the best protocol to tackle such a situation. Some people preferred immediate comfort, others—a reassuring stroke on the back, maybe some uplifting monologue. Or, maybe, they didn’t want to be touched at all. They just desired the simple, thinking silence and all its clarity. He remembered you saying something about it—that you did like to be comforted, but only in very certain circumstances.

First, Wonwoo subtly wiped off his hand against his thigh, and then he took in the softest breath. Through the flickering, midnight blue mirage, Wonwoo reached for your hand. He settled his cold fingers inch by inch under yours, and, with a timid but gentle thumb, Wonwoo caressed in a slow path along your knuckles.

You glanced to him appreciatively, saying nothing, but squeezing his hand in return. He figured he’d done right.

Maybe more things came to him naturally than he thought.

Before leaving the nature museum, you and Wonwoo had stopped at their atrium as promised to get in a quick meal. While you poked a fork into your sad-looking salad, making small scribbles every now and then to the journal at your elbow, Wonwoo ate a grill-pressed sandwich and flicked through his phone. He was surprised to check the time and realize you had spent about three hours there—it felt so much shorter. Wonwoo hated how quickly each moment flew past when he was with you. It was always so bittersweet.

He had wanted to know what exactly you were penciling in the journal, though he never asked, knowing he would probably be proofreading it from your document later. Obviously, you were thinking about that particular date with Mingyu from years back in your life—that was the principal point in going to the museum. However, Wonwoo had chosen to regard it more as hanging out, not caring if that was a particularly delusional or untruthful choice.

After finishing your meals and tossing the plastic remnants into the recycling bins, Wonwoo looked outside the atrium’s towering glass wall to note how cloudy the sky had become. From the bright, eggshell turquoise in the afternoon, to an especially muted grey that seemed brewing and heavy with a downpour. You adjusted the bag over your shoulder and suddenly grimaced at the sight.

“Jeez, is it going to rain?”

“It could,” Wonwoo sighed. “It very possibly could.”

“I swear. I obsessively check the forecast in order to plan all my outfits around it. It never said it would rain!” You then threw the bottle of iced tea you’d been drinking into the garbage with an aggressive slam. “This shirt is a horrible choice. It will be stupidly see-through."

Wonwoo glanced around the atrium.

“There’s lots of empty tables. If we want to sit and wait it out, then I don’t think anyone would get mad. But, I mean, it’s up to you.”

“Why’s it up to me?”

“I don’t know. Just—if you don’t want to get your outfit all soaked. I’m sure if we left now, we could make good distance before it really started raining. I’m not opposed to getting a little wet. But I have no issue with staying here and letting the clouds go over.”

You folded your arms, and your head fell to the side. He’d seen that look before. It was your own patented prelude to disaster.

“I never said I was opposed to getting wet.”

He laughed. “Well, you certainly insinuated it.”

“Do you think I'm some sort of whiny little priss?”

"I think you named your bear Miss Priss."

"I think you're a smart ass. Take that smirk off your face. Now."

Wonwoo wanted to sigh, but he didn’t. He then thought about trying to tenderly explain his way out of it with his smooth words. As much as he would think he’d figured you out, there was still a part of him that was very confused by you and how to adjust to your behaviour.

This time, he decided he would do nothing.

“Okay. Let’s go, then.”

He reached out his hand for you to grab.

“As if,” you scoffed, walking around him toward the exit doorway, into the museum garden, “not after you just insulted me.”

Wonwoo could do nothing but laugh in response, because he had caught that faint smile on your face as you passed him, and the sweet beading in your eyes. He simply followed you out the doors.

During the walk back to his apartment, it had yet to rain at all, not even a typical, humid summer drizzle or the smallest bit of spitting. Maybe it was just way more cloudy than usual, or it was a concerning spread of city smog tainting the sky. It’s not like he wanted it to rain, anyway, though more so for your sake than his.

About a little more than halfway through the walk, however, you came to an abrupt stop outside a flower shop, and Wonwoo watched you lift a doubtful hand to your cheek and wipe something off it. Before you could say anything, Wonwoo felt a big, cold, wet drop smack just above his eyebrow and begin leaking down. He used the sleeve of his shirt to clean it up, only to experience another fat droplet strike a second later, right onto his glasses.

“You can’t be serious…” he heard you mumble.

Making the mistake of looking up, more and more droplets fell swiftly from the daunting, dark grey blanket strewn across the entire skylight. They began painting all over the sidewalk, the roadway, shaking down into the brilliant purple and white petunia pots outside the florist shop. And Wonwoo froze for a moment, because he honestly hadn’t expected to be caught in the rain, let alone the downpour it was unfortunately shaping up to be.

“Ow!” You winced sharply. “One just fucking hit my eyeball!”

“Shit—let’s hurry.” Wonwoo hid his phone. “My apartment’s only like, ten minutes away, less if we run really fast.”

“Run?!” You gawked at him. “I don’t run!”

“No, you fucking sashay, I get it.” In a matter of seconds, those intermittent raindrops had evolved into an unrelenting, bathing barrage. Wonwoo could feel his clothes beginning to dampen, and his glasses were streaming with water. He slapped his hand onto yours, jerking you forward despite your stiltedness. “And I’m so sorry but you’re going to have to sacrifice one part of your pretty fucking princess routine for just five minutes so we can get back to my place.”

“My pretty fucking wha—!”

Once Wonwoo’s fingers were clasped tight with yours, he started to run, and whether it was voluntary or not, you ran along with him, shouting something that he couldn’t quite hear over the rain that bounced in loud splatters against the sidewalk and the adrenaline echoing in his own ears. He could hardly see through the downpour, but he’d walked that path so many times that it almost wasn’t necessary. At one point, he’d stepped onto the street prematurely, and he heard the loud, startled honk from a car.

“Jesus Christ, Wonwoo!” You half-laughed, half-coughed, clutching onto his slippery hand even tighter, “I’d ideally like to live!”

“We’re almost there!” He chuckled back.

“I think I’m going to lose my fucking shoe!”

“I’ll buy you a new pair!”

Wonwoo didn’t stop, and you didn’t either. He was soaked to his bones, with thick, drizzling fronds of hair plastered to his forehead and the glasses nearly slipping from his nose—the scent of earthy but ashen rain all around him—and still Wonwoo kept running, a very blithe smile permanent to his mouth despite all his discomfort.

Upon reaching the entryway to the pottery shop, Wonwoo almost skidded completely past it since the sidewalk was so slick and pouring like an angry river. You slammed into his back, and it was then that your hands unintentionally separated. Instead, he felt your fingers flesh into the sopping cloth covering his shoulders.

“Be careful on the steps!” He shouted overtop a reverberating crack of thunder that shook from behind the grey sleet sky.

“If I slip, I’m pulling you down with me!”

Wonwoo was pleased to hear the equally bright smile that bled into your words, meanwhile your fingertips dug even deeper into his muscle. Once inside the shop, a gust of wind proceeded to blow the door shut, and all Wonwoo heard was hard rain against the glass.

—END OF PART TWO.

[elsweetheart]

what you heard — part two.

synopsis: you start to develop feelings for your boyfriends dealer. part two of this fic.

♪ what you heard — sonder ♪

cw: reader is dating a man, mentions of cheating, mentions of weed, men being annoying, smutsmutsmut, brief mention of violence. some angst? kinda. i guess. happy ending tho yay!

an: hi! it’s here! thank you for alllll the love on the first fic, i can’t believe how much people enjoyed it! i’m actually super proud of this one, my favourite thing i’ve written me thinks …… anyways yea! there will be no part three so pls don’t ask! ily ♡

It’s been a week. You haven’t spoken.

There’s blue-magenta behind your eyes. It swirls into contours and bubbles, recognisable sights beginning to take shape. Things go stark white, and then pale pink. Chartreuse fades in to khaki green into pale grey before you see a brick orangey red. You start to feel, aware of your senses. The brick becomes hair, and the hair tickles your neck.

You hear next, your own sigh. Your fingers press into an arm — your tight grip creates a white halo in their skin. You grip tighter, you have red fingernails now. You don’t remember getting them painted that colour. Half moons dust their skin from your touch. Freckles too.

A familiar feeling inside of you, that searing, hot, beautiful pressure in your groin. It feels good this time, not rushed and fast. Something smooth drags in and out of you, smoother than you’ve felt down there before. Something smells herby… herby and familiar, mixed with something else you can’t make out. The feeling builds, and you’re being touched all over with tender hands. Hands. A pixelated tattoo — not remembering the details.

The picture gets clearer, and you see your own smooth thighs. The freckle on the centre of one of them. They’re being pushed up rhythmically at the same time, a body slot between them. You see purple plastic now, coated and slick— and you realise you can hear yourself again. Loud, whiny, on the edge of… of something.

“Doin’ such a good job taking me, you look so pretty.” The echoey voice belongs to Ellie Williams and you look up to see her face. She’s wearing the grey hoodie she wore the last time you saw her. She looks the same down to her hair, but — wasn’t her eyebrow slit on the other eyebrow? You become more aware and it switches when you blink. How are you blinking? Fingers brush your clit and you gasp for air, skin on fire. “Better than your boyfriend, huh?” You were struck with euphoria, the sound of the ocean deafeningly loud, roaring monstrously in your ears. White noise. Nothing.

You gasped, and you were on your back still — but this time your room was dark, you were still wearing your clothes, and no Ellie. Your heart thumps, and your body reacts the same way it would as if you’d had a nightmare. You barely catch your breath, and the bed shifts beside you.

“Babe — makin’ so much noise. Woke me up, fuck.” The irritated grumble of your boyfriend. You don’t remember him sliding in beside you, and when your senses arrived back into your body, having been borrowed by the dream version of you, you were hit by the familiar and yet not at all comfortable stench of beer. Louis’ skin was pink and clammy under the moonlight peeking through your window and you felt that ugly feeling you’d been cursed with lately, disgust. It piled up inside your stomach like bile before washing away into the numb feeling of regret. He had gone to a party near by, a frat house — Delta something? Or was it Alpha? Clearly he couldn’t be all that bothered to walk back to his own dorm, staying with you instead. Maybe you shouldn’t have given him your spare key card. You push the thought away, and you try to like him again.

You squint in the low light, fully waking yourself up now. You shifted, thighs clattering into eachother with not much room, Louis taking up the bed. At the shift of your legs, you’re alarmed by the way your pyjama shorts cling to your hot, wet centre and suddenly you’re brought back to reality. You were having a wet dream about Ellie.

Guilty, your head turns to look at the man beside you. The room is filled by his deep heavy breaths, and the scratchy sound your hair made against the pillow when you turned your head. A small brown birthmark splotches on his bare shoulder, and you wonder if you squint, it could look like freckles. Reaching out, your fingers brush over it — and you are ejected from the moment instantly as he groans at the contact, rolling over. To add insult to injury, he thrusts a pillow out from beneath his head and shoves it between the two of you half awake. Message received.

You stare at the square tiles of your ceiling. Ellie Ellie Ellie. You wondered what she was doing right now, probably fast asleep. You lift your head quietly to look at your alarm clock, a bright red ‘02:55AM’ scalding your eyes. She could be at a party still, dealing. You pictured her there, hands stuffed in her pockets, wearing that cute khaki green windbreaker jacket that you secretly loved and her black jeans— her hair up in that messy half up bun. You don’t stop your cheeks from pushing up as you close your eyes, thinking of your new friend fondly. Your eyes felt heavier now, and you let yourself immerse into the fantasy, too sleepy to reject it or bare any guilt for daydreaming. You’re there at the party too, wearing something tight. Ellie notices you right away, eyes flickering over you in that way she has about her which is somehow equally loserish and confident. You walk over to her, and you’re too tired to fathom a conversation — but you’re not too drunk like you were last time, and there’s giggling and touching, and best of all Ellie isn’t looking at any other girls. She isn’t even focused on dealing anymore. She gives you all of her attention.

You fall asleep that way. You don’t dream of her, or anything for that matter for the rest of the night but the sleep is peaceful and you wake up well rested.

It’s 9:22AM when you wake up, and Louis is gone. Probably to make his 9AM lecture, turning up still drunk which you’re sure was absolutely hilarious to him and his friends, whilst the professor was probably hoping he wouldn’t turn up at all. You rub your eyes, and that nagging feeling in your chest kicks in.

One could truly never appreciate those first thirty seconds after you wake up. Still dreamy and disorientated, no anxiety, no worries — just bliss. Until you remember the current affairs of your life, and your eyes open.

Your phone is cold in your hand when you reach over and take it off charge, your free hand rubbing the sleep out your eyes as you suppress a yawn. Your stomach bottoms out, which is honestly sickening so early in the morning, as your eyes immediately land on a text from Ellie herself. Oh God, please tell me I didn’t reach over and text her in my sleep about my daydreams. It was unrealistic, but you definitely wouldn’t put it past yourself lately. You feel a blossom of disappointment bloom below your rib cage when you read ‘30% off for my fav custys. Blue dream, Purple haze, OG Green Kush. Get at me. Can do pick up or delivery tonight 📢🧟‍♀️’ Just another mass text, after all — Ellie was a business woman.

You swipe back onto your lockscreen, and chase the red ‘1’ symbol besides the Instagram logo, following it all the way to your DMS. Oh? Oh.

You see the first few words of the message from the preview, and your stomach fizzes up like shaken pop.

‘hey girl, i know you don’t know me but this is weighing on my mind so i have to tell you. last night your boyfriend louis was at the party down at alpha phi and we made out a couple of times before going upstairs and having sex. i didn’t know he had a gf until afterwards bc someone told me and i feel really guilty. u deserve better babe! just thought i’d let u know. i’m so sorry!!!’

Right, okay. This is not how you thought your day would begin.

You sit up slowly, like you’re worried that if you sit up too fast you’ll freak yourself out. How could this happen? You knew Louis was a bit of a dick sometimes, but a cheater? He seemed kind of territorial around Ellie at that party if you remembered correctly. So why would he wanna cheat?

You stare at the wall. Cry, damnit. Cry!

You don’t. But maybe you’re in shock. You pick your phone up again and text the girl back, a simple ‘thank you, will dump him today’ which you admit sounded kind of casual and hilarious, but you truly didn’t know what to say. You wasn’t really sure what to do. Do you just go about your day as normal? No, you needed to dump him. Okay, yes. First order of business.

Not over text, no. You were classier than that — although he didn’t deserve more than a ‘bye loser!’ text followed by the blocking of his number. You squint outside at the sun, showered and got dressed, pulling another one of your many sundresses over your frame. Despite the nagging, nervous feeling in your stomach it felt like a normal day. Maybe it wasn’t the end of the world.

You sat at your desk, staring at the wall. You’ll get up and go eventually you thought. You stayed in your room for hours.

4:47PM. No music in your earphones today, it didn’t feel right. Your mind was too loud anyways, you weren’t quite sure you’d even be able to hear the music over your thoughts. Your body was on autopilot as you walk. Louis should be getting out of his afternoon class in 13 minutes approximately, you’ll just wait for him outside and confront him there. Quick and easy.

But there’ll be people around, and you don’t want to make a scene do you? What if he’s with his friends and they all laugh at you? You figured it was more embarrassing for you than it was for him. What were you thinking getting involved with a frat boy? Of course he was going to cheat. The building that his class would be in was in sight now, footsteps quickening. Your heart was quickening now too, not with nerves but with anger. Anger at him. Anger at yourself, moreso. How did you let him cheat? How did you let it go on long enough for that to happen? Why didn’t you cheat first?

Your own thought sends you skidding to a stop. That’s… not you. You’re not a cheater. Regardless of what the person you’re dating does, it’s not right. Noise attracts you up ahead, and you see gaggles of students begin to leave the building — class having finished early. You don’t think, just dart left and keep walking. Away from the building, and Louis. Your feet start to hurt in your shoes from the way the soles of your feet are pounding against the bright concrete in the late afternoon sun. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I chickened out. Your brain screams at you and you’re already heading in the direction of the place that quiets your mind. You keep walking until you’re inside Ellie’s building.

There’s no time to think as you walk up to the beige door you knew too well, the familiar whiteboard pinned to it reading ‘Ellie’ in her slightly messy scribble, with ‘Knock first, assholes.’ scribed beneath it smaller. You do just that, you knock. After you do, you stand back — catching your breath from the stairs you took up there. You hadn’t even thought of what you were gonna say. Did you have money on you? Yes. You could just buy some of the weed she sent out the mass text about, and see where it goes from there. Solid plan.

You were too busy rehearsing what you were gonna say to realise that you hadn’t heard any movement from inside her room. An image of her fast sleep, drooling on her pillow napping crossed your mind and if you weren’t so wired up you’d maybe smile. You knock again, a little more timidly this time but feeling the same level of urgency. You tried to recall if she’d ever mentioned sleeping with headphones on? Your brows furrow, and just when you knock again — the door beside Ellie’s opens, a ginger guy wearing a jersey and sweatpants poking his head round to look at you.

“If you’re looking for Ellie I saw her go out earlier. She’s not in.” He rasped, and you’d realised that your knocking had perhaps woken him up from a slumber, instead of the imaginary Ellie who wasn’t in her room. You feel your heart drop a few centimetres before pattering against your chest in embarrassment, face feeling hotter than it already was.

“Oh, okay. Sorry if my knocking woke you up.” You cringe with a polite smile that he doesn’t return.

“She’s a dealer, you’re meant to text before you come over so this shit doesn’t happen.” He grumbles, before sulking back into his room — door closing. Your eyes widen— Jheez. Touchy.

You stare at Ellies door again, rolling your lips into your mouth as you thought. Maybe this was a good thing, fate even. You shouldn’t have come here. You should have just gone straight to Louis and dumped his ass like you originally planned— not run straight to your emotional-support-dealer who was complicating things enough as it is. You could have really done with smoking first though, you realised — which actually made your eyes glaze over with tears. Ellie’s weed was just behind that door.

You finally managed to peel yourself away, shamefully plodding back the way you came. You were halfway down the hall, when the door you were headed for opened — the sound of an oh so familiar laugh reaching your ears before your eyes found her. Ellie was walking along side Dina, the two chatting as your dealer searched her pockets for her keycard. There was a second or two when they hadn’t seen you yet, and you slowed down your pace — eyes raking over her. There was no reason for her to look so good, you almost felt like it was on purpose — hair in that classic half updo and an old white wifebeater clinging to her frame, black backpack on her back with simple black jeans and scuffed vans. You panicked, turning around hoping she wouldn’t see you, realised there was nowhere to run to, and spun back around to the two girls. When you did, they were already looking at you cautiously.

Dina looked at you, and then looked at Ellie, then back at you. Ellie called your name, pace slowing and you smiled sheepishly, praying the embarrassed and stressed tears threatening to spill would get sucked back into your eyes.

“Hey. Sorry I should have texted I was just…” Your eyes remove themselves from her, flying up to the ceiling so that the tears wouldn’t spill. You suck in a calming breath. Why now? Why was it all hitting you now? You glanced back at her just to see her face drop upon inspecting your state, and looked back at Dina.

“I’ll just grab the textbook from you later on, or you can bring it to me when you’re done — it’s chill.” Dina shrugged, and you could tell she was trying to be casual and polite despite it perhaps being an inconvenience to do so.

“Yeah. I’ll bring it.” Ellie nodded vigorously, like she were just about to ask her to do so. “I’ll see you later, D.”

Dina sent you a sympathetic smile before backing up towards the doorway, heading out. You fist at your dress uncomfortably, a silence settling over the two of you as you both watch her leave.

“Uh, come in.” Ellie speaks gently, in lieu of your frazzled state. She taps her keycard on the reader and opens the door, pressing her back to it to hold it open for you before closing it behind you. You watch the way she instantly makes herself at home like usual, kicking off her shoes dropping her backpack, sitting on the bed. You don’t move, just standing there in front of the door watching her. This really wasn’t meant to happen, therefore you had no time to mentally prepare yourself. Your brain was catching up, forcing you to dawdle and have an outer body experience in Ellie’s dorm.

“You… okay?” She raised an eyebrow, eyes flitting over the way you were gripping your sundress like it was going to fly off your body if you didn’t. You nodded, non verbal for a moment, eyes not meeting hers. You seemed to be coping fine before, but being around Ellie made you… vulnerable. Like you were worried that everything would just come out, word vomit all over your dress, and all your emotions were brought to the surface instantly by her calming nature. When you didn’t speak, she did. “You want pre-rolls? I got a couple, I dunno if you got my text.” She starts to reach for her backpack again. “Sorry I wasn’t here — you didn’t tell me you were coming so I—”

“Louis cheated on me.” You blurt and she freezes, ceasing to reach for her bag and reverting to the position she was sat on the bed before. Her face scrunches up a little.

“What?”

“Yeah— he…yeah.” There’s no emotion behind your words now, staring past her at the wall. Her eyes squeeze shut, scrambling for words for a moment as she pushes herself to stand.

“What did— how did you find out?” She exasperates, slowly stepping your way.

“I just woke up to a DM on Instagram from some random girl spilling everything, saying that she didn’t know he had a girlfriend and fucked him. She was really nice about it though.” You ponder, shaking yourself back to your senses. It felt more real now that you had said it out loud, which was kind of comforting in a way.

“Damn.” Ellie whispers, now stood right in front of you. Her fingers nervously graze your arm, wanting to comfort you. “I’m… really sorry babe.” Babe. You don’t have time to register the nickname as she takes action on her impulses, suddenly wrapping her arms around you and pulling you in for a hug. You’re caught off guard, arms hovering for a moment before wrapping around her. You squeeze, and it feels good to be held by her. You nuzzle into her neck as she rubs comforting circles on your waist with her thumbs, your breathing synced up.

“I’m not.” It comes out muffled into her, and she pulls back slightly— warm breath wafting over your face as she stares down at you in confusion. “Huh?”

“I’m…relieved. I don’t feel anything. I don’t… care.” You admit, brows furrowing in a way that made Ellie think you felt guilty for having this outlook.

“Maybe you’re in shock.”

“Maybe I just didn’t like him.” You quickly admit even quieter, like the two of you were having a whisper off. She stared at you, not able to help herself from glancing at your glossed lips, and wondered if you could feel her heartbeat speed up as your bodies were pressed so tightly together.

“No?”

“Maybe I… was already cheating on him in my head.”

Green light, Ellie thinks — infact she’d never known a light greener. She closes in on you, your back rebounding a little off the door, eyes locked in on eachothers lips. They nearly touch, the two of you exchanging a breath when a deafening knock sounds on the wooden door you were pressed against, making the two of you jump. Ellie pulls back, smiling sheepishly at your nervous giggle and she presses into you even more, bringing her eye to the view-hole over your head in the door to see who it was, expecting a customer. She pulls back, face to face and her eyes are wider this time, cheeks reddening.

“Think someone came lookin’ for you.”

Your own eyes expand, and you spin around to look through — a fisheye lens view of Louis stood there, stupid backwards cap on his head and meaty hands stuffed into his board-shorts as he obnoxiously chewed his gum.

Ellie’s heart swells for you when you spin around, looking at her desperately in a panic.

“Don’t wanna see him! I — I can’t. Not yet!” You whisper, breath shaking in your throat and she nods, a comforting hand on your arm rubbing for a moment as she pushes you into the crevice of the wall where the door would open on, hiding you. He knocks again, and you hear Ellie’s neighbour groan, angry footsteps thudding towards his own door through the wall.

“S’okay. Hey, s’alright. Fuck it— uh, I’ll see what he wants.” She nods at your worried expression, opening the door before her neighbour gets to him— boxing you in behind it. You had kind of hoped the sleep deprived neighbour would have gotten to Louis first, giving him a piece of his mind.

“Yo.” Louis greet, uninterested and you cringed, already wondering how you ever dated that. Ellie stared at him, waiting for him to ask about you. Waiting for her chance to chew him out. “Lemme get a half ounce. You got purple haze?” He sniffed.

“Looks like I’m fresh out.” You could hear the anger in Ellie’s voice just from the sight of him, which concerned you whilst equally validated you. She was blunt, tilt her chin up the way she did at that pool party, exuding confidence.

“Damn. What else you got?” He sighed, not seeming to pick up of Ellie’s raging ‘Fuck you’ vibe. She didn’t move to rummage her drawers or invite him in. She simply stood, unwavering. Staring. Borderline glaring, urging him to just get the picture that he wasn’t welcome here tonight. Or ever again, if she was being honest.

“Got nothin’ for you, man.” She held his gaze. He faltered now. Oh? Eyes flitting all around her face like he was trying to work out what her problem is. What did she know?

“You’re all out?” He flattened his voice just a bit more. A tone to his voice that said ‘Are you fucking with me?’

“Looks like I am.”

You heard him shuffling awkwardly, before kissing his teeth and stepping away. “Aight.”

There was no blow up, no gross attitude from Louis, no flip out from Ellie where she’d punch him in the face in your honour. He simply laid down and accepted that he was gonna be weed-less tonight, and fucked off. You peeked, watching Ellie continue to stare him down with her stony expression as he walked away before closing the door softly, revealing you behind it — cramped up in the corner. You looked dishevelled and wide eyed, having had to make an effort to not breathe, let alone speak. She felt her heart just… soften at the sight of you. In a way, you’d kind of resembled a scared stray kitten who’s run away from their big bad owner, and who better to take you in than a loving student with plenty of catnip?

She cleared her throat, stepping back and allowing you to move out of the cramped space behind the door.

“Just hearing him makes me mad.” You huff, walking over to her bed and plopping down on the end of it, defeated. She wipes her hands on her jeans, a little awkwardly — still recovering from your near kiss turned near confrontation.

“Yeah. Kinda took me everything not to kick his scrawny ass.” She shook it off, eyebrows jumping up as she envisioned the scene. You did too, something stirring deep within you at the vision of Ellie beating him, knuckles splattered with blood, angry grimace on her face. You shoo it away quickly, not wanting to indulge in that sick fantasy. You let out a non committal hum, dragging your eyes away from her.

“So did you want any weed? I can hook you up with something…” She took a step toward her black backpack that was slumped against the floor. You shook your head quickly, knowing she wouldn’t let you pay for it yet again given your state and well — as much as you adored free weed, you couldn’t do that to her twice in a row.

“No, no. I don’t think I’m in the right headspace to smoke, you know? Probably not the best idea.” You conversed, staring ahead as you took a long deep breath — feeling the slightest spark of what could be relief that things were finally over, despite the betrayal of being cheated on. You thought you had buried what you really wanted deep inside, turns out it was right on the surface the whole time. Was it that obvious to Ellie how needy you really were for her the whole time? You thought back to your near-kiss a few moments back, heat crawling up the back of your neck like the feeling of being flustered was submerging you in it’s lusty molasses. You realised she was saying nothing, just watching you as she swayed on her feet — nervously toeing at the carpet.

Shit, maybe you’d overstepped.

“Sorry — I can head out now. I don’t know why I ran here I just — I didn’t know where to go. Sorry.” You stood up and Ellie’s eyes enlarged, her own heart thumping as she tried to muster up the words to just speak. She was unprepared, she’d admit — this whole thing was not how she thought it would go down. She’d always imagined you banging on her door in the middle of the night, begging her to fuck you, something about Louis not being able to do it right, and she was the only one who could do the job. You’d be on eachother in an instant, limbs and moans, loud and messy, and afterwards— afterwards is when you’d have the discussion. She’d tell you that she can treat you better, and you’d say that you’d always wanted her. Not… this. This was slow, bordering on awkward. Come on Ellie, get it together.

“Hey.” It came out gentle, and almost like a Pavlov response to her tone, you calmed — eyes melting into a soft gaze as her hand grazed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. “We don’t need to smoke to hang out. I’m cool to just… talk. If you wanna.”

So you did.

You talked, and in no time you were laughing away, problems seemingly forgotten as you laid side by side on the bed. Ellie had some kind of magic about her, a type that inspired time to stop when the two of you would hang out. You wouldn’t notice the sun going down outside the window, or the way your bodies would overtime shift closer and closer to eachother on the bed until your shoulders were pressed together. Your shoes were kicked off and the window was open — bringing a warm, balmy evening humidity into the dorm. At the dawn of summer, the warm and lethargic evenings were one of your favourite things about the season change. They were even better with Ellie, you thought.

“So, did it work?” She was smirking, the laugh clenching the back of her throat like she was on the verge of letting out a ridiculous school-girl giggle.

“Did what work? You can’t just start a sentence like that and expect me to know what you mean.” You picked up her brown stuffed bear from the bed and swat her with it— the memory of the last time you were in her room springing up. What went down on this very bed. Suddenly, you realised what she might have been talking about.

“Shut up.” She chuckled. “My handy tips and tricks. Did you ever get down to having a better time in the bedroom?” She wiggled her brows, the arm furthest from you coming up to rest behind her head as she turned slightly to look at you — face close enough to see the green speckles caressed by hazel in her limbal rings.

“Ellie.” You groan in embarrassment, covering your face (and more so, your sheepish smile.) The smile peeked from behind your palms anyway, and Ellie capsized onto her side, leaning on her elbow now with her own grin — caused by the adorable-ness of yours.

“S’just a question.” Her voice was gentle and flat in her deep drawl, pulling your hands away from your face with the help of her own fingers pulling it away. Her hand stayed on top of yours when you rested it on top of your ribs.

“Do I have to answer?” You squint and her mouth turned downwards in thought with a inattentive shrug.

“No.” That mischievous smile of hers crept back up. “But that won’t stop me from guessing your answer.”

You gaze down at her hand on top of yours. It was cold like it always was — having caught her touch through grazed fingers with a weed baggie between them and friendly arm caresses when running into eachother in public. You wondered how her hands were still cold, even in the smouldering warmth of her dorm. You avoid her smug gaze.

“Well what do you think?” You quieten your voice, smile still lingering as you wiggle your fingers beneath her palm, she squeezes your fingers with her own — pinning them down where they rest. Ellie thinks, briefly distracted by your hands flirting.

“Hm.” She pretended to think. “Maybe. You probably tried to help him, bein’ a good person n’all. But you know… what was it you said last time? You either got it or you don’t?”

You said nothing, considering her guess. She waited, for some kind of reaction giving away whether or not she was right or wrong. When it didn’t come, she prompt you.

“No?” Her thumb was on top of the back of your hand now, her other fingers tucked beneath your palm— her knuckles laying flat against your ribs. The touch being so close to your tits sent your mind reeling and it took you a moment to respond, her thumb just stroking slow languid circles on your own knuckles.

“Since that day I haven’t… me and him didn’t…” You admit, finally braving a glance up to her eyes. They’re intense, as inspected — flickering back up to your eyes from your lips, caught. “He wanted to, but… I didn’t want to even try anymore.”

“And whys that?” She rushed out, internally yelling at herself for the speed in which she prompted you. Patience Ellie, Jesus fucking Christ. You know where this is headed, and if you push too hard she’ll spook like last time. Be cool.

Your cheeks pushed up, and she assumes you’re fighting a giggle at her eager response. Luckily, you don’t mention it. “Lets say you wanted a sandwich…” You started. Okay, what the fuck. Where was this going?

“Uh— sure?”

“And there’s a sandwich store in your town. Their sandwiches… aren’t very good. You think, maybe I’m ordering the wrong sandwich. But all the sandwiches taste the same and they’re all… bad. But then a new sandwich place opens up down the street. The sandwiches look amazing, and everything about it is perfect. Would you keep going back to the bad sandwich store?”

Ellie squinted, slowly sitting up a little more with an exasperated expression as her brain caught up.

“You did all that… instead of just telling me that you couldn’t fuck Louis anymore because you wanted to fuck me?”

You burst into giggles. “I’m shy!” You whine, rolling away from her to face the wall beside her bed. She laughs heartily in disbelief, her hands coming to tickle your waist without a thought.

“Oh you’re shy?” She snickered through your squeals. “Fuckin’ Shakespeare over here — what sandwich store huh? No, really. I’m dying to know where that came from.”

You flipped to face her suddenly, her face unexpectedly close. You faltered, eyes dropping to her pretty, naturally red lips before pulling them away in order to get your words out. “It was the best way I could explain it, okay?”

“Alright, wordsmith.” She was not just smirking, but openly staring at your mouth now, so close her breath was tickling your nose.

“You’re so annoying.” You press your lips together, subconsciously hiding them in nerves.

“Yeah?” Kiss me. Kiss me before I fucking do it.

“Yeah. Always popping up in my dreams too.” You beam, leaning into her a little now. Please kiss me. And she nearly does, but your words hit her and her curiosity gets the better of her. Fuck. She pulls away a little, eyes boring back into yours.

“What dream? Tell me ‘bout your dream.” She’s whispering now, brow jabbing downward in curiosity. You sigh, eyes closing. Why would you bring that up? You drop your head back onto the pillow.

“I just… had these dreams. About you.” You open your eyes. There’s blu-tack stuck to her ceiling tile. Her finger almost makes you jump as it curls beneath your chin with the gentlest touch, turning your face back to look at her.

“What happened in these dreams? Hm?”

You suck on your bottom lip, taking the time to take in all her features. The way it seemed like nothing else in the world mattered, just the two of you laying close on this bed, backed into the corner against the wall. Your cunt was aching — you let yourself realise this now.

“We’d be here. Just like this.” You murmur, your own fingers running up her wrist to meet her hand where it cupped your chin. Her eyes followed your movements, glued to your baby pink fingernails. “We’d be laughing, and talking and suddenly… we’re kissing. And… you’re on top of me.”

Thank fuck for your sundress, Ellie’s eyes were truly blessed — dropping down shamelessly to your tits as they begin to push against the material, already practically spilling out from your compromising position. She realises that you’re drawing in a long breath, followed by shorter, wetter ones. You swallow, panting from the memory. Jesus fucking Christ loops around her head, bouncing off the walls of her brain in an echo-chamber of horny. What next? What happens next?

“And then you’re… pushing into me and it feels good. Better than… better than he could ever make me feel. And you’re telling me I’m pretty… and how good I’m doing… just like you said you would.” You’re even quieter, but your words couldn’t be louder to Ellie. She’s tormented, wanting you to finish off your story, the tale of your dirty dreams — but equally wanting to cut it short by shutting you up with her mouth on yours. Decisions, decisions.

Your brows are furrowed, your hand sliding her hand down to your throat— just pressing it there. Maybe for comfort, maybe just to feel her touch. Likely because it’s turning you on. She can feel your pulse thrumming violently against your skin. Ellie’s eyes are all pupil. Is that your heartbeat or mine?

“And I cum.” You grin slowly in disbelief, eyes glazed over completely like you’ve been crying, brows still pinched in that endearing furrow. “I actually cum. And it’s so good. Because it’s you. And only you can—”

Fuck it.

Her mouth is on yours in an instant, swallowing the surprised whimper when she rolls over to hover over you, her knee pressed between your legs. Her tongue introduces itself to yours quickly, the wet muscles sliding over eachother in greeting like they were old friends. Her hand still cupped your throat where you had guide her and she could barely think, her body on pure primal autopilot. Ellie liked to think she was fairly experienced, but shit — it’s never felt like this before.

Her hands are everywhere. You’re trying to count them because you’re sure — certain even that you can feel more than two sliding over you, pushing your dress further up your thighs, kneading your warm, plush breasts. Your legs are falling open wider, like her tongue had reached a spot in your mouth that had triggered you to just go limp, and with the movement her knee presses up just a little more snug against your hot cunt. You shift on it, on instinct and the friction of it just… you moan.

Ellie can’t help but notice how relieved it sounds, and she wants to coo at you, chuckle and tease you about being sooo pent up, because little Louis couldn’t find that pretty clit. But she couldn’t drag her mouth away from you, having journeyed right down to your neck, sucking and biting— marking you. You belonged to her now, and there was no doubt about that. You couldn’t go back on yourself now, no. Not with Ellie all over you.

You kept shifting on it, experimentally grinding your pantie-clad pussy against her jean covered knee. You don’t even recall ever being in this position with Louis, and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter, huffing out your nose. Get that man out of your head, before he ruins the mood.

You let out another quiet mewl, and God — Ellie just had to pull away and look at you. Just a little bit, just close enough to still be breathing hard into each-other’s mouth. When your eyes fluttered open, she swore she could have died right there. You look flushed, pupils blown out with that needy look in your eye. As the moment settled in, hips still weakly bucking against her knee and hands desperately grabbing at her shoulders — Ellie felt a small tremor beneath your body, like a tiny earthquake had occurred right below you. It travelled up your body, falling out of your mouth in the language of a trembling gasp. Were you…?

Ellie grinned, proudly — brows knit as if to say ‘awwww’. And then she did say it, mouth running without permission from her brain. “Aw, you’re shaking.” She whispered, like it was a secret being shared at a sleepover. You weren’t your usually giggly self now, getting shy on her and turning away — you just wet your lips, tilting your hips for more and pulled her back in to kiss.

Ellie’s hand were pulling at your dress before she remembered to ask, so she slowed down hoping you’d say something. As she peeled away the fabric, dragging your straps down your arms her lips followed, pressing chaste kisses to the warm skin. You sighed at the feeling, melting into her bedsheets and Ellie tugged just that bit harder, your tits free from the dress now that bunched around your waist. The dealers eyes were on them, and then on your face, and then back to your tits when she remembered she was actually allowed to be looking at them this time. Her hands followed, doing what she’d always dreamt of.

The coldness of her palms brought your nipples to a peak and you wanted to roll over and hide again, but you couldn’t — because Ellie was dragging her spread hands up your ribs and grabbing the fat of your tits and it just felt too good. Felt good to be appreciated, analysed, borderline worshipped as Ellie dragged her thumbs over your nipples making a low whine fall from your throat accidentally.

“Shit, babe.” She breathed in disbelief, looking up at you once more and retreating to drop a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You this pretty everywhere?”

You didn’t know what to say, so you said nothing at all— arching your chest into her touch. She gave them a firm squeeze before reluctantly pulling away to continue on her journey down your body, her mission to get your dress completely off still in full pursuit.

She immediately dives in to press a pouty kiss between your tits as soon as she can, letting her top lip drag slightly as she trails her lips downwards to your stomach. Don’t rush this, Ellie — she thinks, and for a moment she fears she accidentally said it out because you giggle. She looks up at you, a little wide eyed in confusion at your dazed titter. Her hands are curled around your sides now, thumbs resting on your rib cage, and your hand is creeping up the back of her head to caress the soft hair there.

“Tickles.” You mutter and she grins wolfishly, shaking her head ever so slightly as she gets back to it. A little impatiently, she tugs the dress down your hips, the material straining ever so slightly before she can slide them down your legs. You help her, kicking the material up and off and hearing it flump onto the floor beside her bed.

She was hungry now, closer and closer to what she wanted but her laser focus was on proving herself. You deserved to feel good, and that’s exactly what she was gonna give you. She needed to show you that she was the better option, that she could look after you right. Her hands were pushing your thighs open now, her face flushed and desperate as she pressed kisses to the inside. She hadn’t even spared a glance at your underwear yet, couldn’t even tell you what colour they were — just fixated on sucking marks into your skin, making sure that the dark purple were visible when she’d pull away with a pop.

Embarrassingly so, you bucked your hips against nothing— the stretch of material spread over your clit just barely grazing the button. You understood perfectly what her game was, she’d bet you’d never been teased before and she was right — but right now you needed her touch, after so long you just needed her.

“Please.” You finally let out as her hands stroke the crevices of your thigh crease, light fingers that tickled you enough to make you buck again. Her nose pressed against the skin beside the lacy leg hole of your underwear as she pressed a firm kiss there.

“Please what.” She didn’t even stop to look at you.

“Please t—ouch me.” You shudder, words nearly cut off half way through. She stops then, eyes wide like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, before dragging them down to your panties. A soft pink, the outline of your fat lips spread due to the way she’d parted your thighs, the material stuck to them — creating the clear shape. What really caught her eye, was the growing darkness through them — soaked through from just her kisses and caressing. Confidence surged through her once again.

Her two front teeth grazed her bottom lip, bringing them down as if planning to say ‘Ffffuuuckk’ but it died on her tongue, just the ‘Ffffff’ sound whispered out. You watched her pupils double in size, and when she looked back up at you her lids were heavier.

“S’all for me?” She cooed, in this sickly sweet voice that made your fogged brain nearly not pick up on the fact that she was mocking you ever so slightly. You let out a shaky breath, and she didn’t take her eyes off you when she leant back in, pressing a soft and loving kiss over the fabric — right where your clit would be. She watched you then, jaw gaping and brows knitting, she even heard your toes clenching hard behind her because of the way the bed covers shifted. She remembered something being said about you liking when the other person took charge, and she wondered how far she could milk you into that space. How much could she force you to just let go and let her do all the thinking?

“S’right baby, just relax up for me yeah? You’re all tense.” She smoothes a hand over your tummy and Jesus, that was easy — you’re nodding furiously, body tensing and untensing a few times, actively trying to get yourself to follow her command. That’s okay, she thinks — we’ll get you there.

She starts pressing kisses around your panties again, your widened thigh crease, the spread lip peeking out from the material, along the waistband. She hears you breathing hard without looking up. Poor thing, must’ve really been unsatisfied to get this worked up so soon. Her own finger comes up to drag up and down your slit through the material, the plumpness of it having swallowed some fabric into its crease. You feel more arousal seep out of you when her finger tips circle around your clit and press down ever so slightly.

“Teasin’ me.” You manage in a strained whisper, trying to widen your legs even more. Your ankle hangs off the bed.

“Mhm.” She goes back in, pressing kisses to below where she was touching, her nose doing the work in nudging your button. She got to work, her tongue sliding out and licking up the juices that had seep through the soft pink material. You tasted just like she imagined, a little tangy and salty sweet— making saliva collect at the base of her tongue to roll down and soak you more.

The moans were flowing freely when she wrapped her toned arms around your thighs, bringing you down onto her mouth more. Through your hazy mind, you don’t quite recall ever getting to see her arms like this — and you’re just now noting how much muscle she truly had. For someone with a cocky side, she had to be pretty humble to hide them. It made the submission creep up more, the idea that she could do anything she wanted to you bouncing around your brain that was quickly emptying itself like an egg timer.

Ellie looked starved, practically unhinging her jaw to gather the saliva and arousal soaked material in her mouth and use the point of her tongue to push you where you needed her. The friction of the material between her and your clit rubbed against you in all the right ways, and just when you felt yourself drifting off into that hazy relaxed space, the same one you felt when you’d just woken up — your stomach involuntarily tensed and curled with something devastating building up. Surely not, surely Ellie wasn’t about to make you cum through your panties.

You let out a pathetic and almost fearful whine as your hand shaped itself into a claw at the back of her head, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull her away. You didn’t even think you’d be able to, her head moving vigorously with her face buried in your covered crotch. Ellie wasn’t planning on eating you out through your underwear to the point of making you cum, but as soon as you signified that there was a chance she could? It was game. Ellie was competitive by nature, and sometimes that even meant competing with herself. Bet you can’t do it, she taunts herself— and as she pins down your bucking hips that smug voice in her head responds. Bet you can.

You shake, pressing her face in further as you hit a peak — stomach clenching the same way it does when you ride a drop-coaster, seemingly plummeting to the ground on rickety tracks. Your cunt burned and ached as she frantically mouthed at your clit through the thin fabric, tongue working you in such a frenzy that you were certain if she went for any longer she’d burst a hole in the material and get to the real thing. You felt your warmth gush out, the entirety of your panties now three shades darker in colour due to yours and Ellie’s joint attack.

Her teeth scraped over your covered clit as she pant for her own breath and you jerked, oversensitive — prompting her to detach her mouth, instead choosing to rest her cheek above your waistband, pressing breathless kisses to the skin she could reach.

“Ohmy—gosh.” You whisper in the shape of a whine and she looks up at you again, a sheen of wetness around her chin and mouth from her own saliva and what had snuck through the fabric. Her thumb strokes your waist soothingly, a chuckle slipping past her lips.

“That was cute.” Was all she said and you felt the heat burn your cheeks once more. Whilst you were distracted, breathless love stuck smile hidden by your clammy palms she took the opportunity to peel your panties to the side, looking at what she’d created. She let out a warm sigh that brushed over your glistening mound, entranced by pretty much the most perfect pussy she’d ever laid eyes on. Your folds were sparkling in your own juices and she could see the way it trailed beneath you having dripped down from your leaking hole. A string of arousal still remained attached to the underwear she’d pulled aside, and she wanted to explode. She placed two thumbs either side of the lips, pulling you apart a little more and you ripped your hands away from your face to watch — a feverish whimper leaving you from her touch. “So fucking pretty. ‘My god.” She sighs, pink tongue licking a stripe of you bottom to top, savouring in your taste— now unfiltered and louder on her tongue with nothing between the two of you. You let out a sob, still a little sensitive and your knees come up beside your chest, hand trembling on her head. She sucks on your clit, directly this time and it gets too much, your thighs attempting to crush her head like a watermelon. She removes her thumbs from beside your cunt to slam her hands quickly into the back of your thighs, pushing herself deeper into you as she shoves your thighs up, keeping you open. She hums against you threateningly and you cry, burbling out her name and a load of nonsense.

“ElsEllie—Ell—ie— s’too much I’m— already—” you try but it barely makes it’s way past your lips. She pulls away with an obscene pop, choosing to pepper kisses to your pubic mound instead and looking up at you warningly.

“Just take it pretty girl, gotta be brave about it yeah?” Tough love, because she’s desperate to taste you just a little longer. You’re about to protest, something along the lines of ‘give me a breather’ or ‘wait a minute or i’m gonna cum again too fast’ when you feel the coarse pads of her fingers slide up beneath her mouth, applying just enough pressure to the skin around your clenching hole to silence you.

She just rubs, massages the area, attacking your clit with her tongue once more. The movements are more precise, more pointed — the tip of the muscle circling around your button dizzyingly before you feel her middle finger dip into your hole ever so slightly. “Let me have you baby, let me in.” She whispers on you and you’re nodding, against your will, head thudding back into the pillow and nipples pebbled like you wouldn’t believe. You can have me. You can have me forever if you keep eating it like this.

She sinks her finger in, and you go against your brain and squeeze hard against it— like— if she were wearing a ring you’d be able to pull it off, that’s how hard you squeezed. “Hey.” Was all she whispered, a line appearing in her forehead when she looked at you, the trace of something sterner behind her expression. “Not going anywhere sweetheart, loosen up for me.” She stroked your thigh and you whimpered, doing your best.

“M’sorry” you shivered and she forgave you by kissing your clit again, beginning to drag her finger outwards. Not long after, her other finger joined and you went blind for a moment when they pressed up against something soft and spongy.

“Theeeere she is.” She spoke, more to herself as you hiccuped, hands clutching yourself now, self soothing because holy hell — you’d never felt like this before. Not even by yourself. “Thats it baby, good girl.”

You squeezed again at the praise. Good girl. You’d been waiting for it, anticipating your favourite words from all of your fantasies and it sounded better than you could ever have imagined coming from her Texan drawl. She smiled, like she knew — and tsked at you tensing again. From the fresh tidal wave of arousal dripping out of you from her words, your pussy all but squelched when she started to move her wrist again, grinding against that special spot. “S’talking to me, pretty. You liked that huh? Like bein’ good for me?”

You knew she had it in her— but damn— Ellie really knew what she was doing. You swore if she had dared to call you a good girl in a more casual setting before today, you might have just folded and become the cheater you swore you’d never be.

“Mhm!” Was all you could get out as you found her rhythm, working with her as you rolled you hips down on her fingers. Your chest burned with that sappy feeling — admiring the way she really did know how to look after you and give you exactly what you need. You needed to feel closeness again, and you called her name. “Ellie!”

“Yeah.” She cooed in a deep groan, lazily mouthing at you. She drew back for a moment and you thought she would give you what you wanted, but instead she went above and beyond, spitting on your clit before chasing it up with the flat of her tongue. You gasped, threatening to cut the circulation off in her fingers again.

“Ellie.” You sobbed more urgently, mouth actually downturned now like you couldn’t help from actually crying — hot tears resting in the space below your eye. The tone caught her attention and she looked up.

“Whats up baby? You feelin’ good?” Her voice was high and sympathetic, making you push your bottom lip out — trying to gather her thoughts as she continued to press you, fingers grinding inside your gummy walls.

“Yeah. Need to— need to kiss you.” You sniffle and she’s pouting back at you, instantly pushing her body up without taking her fingers out your cunt. Not that you’d let her, sucking them in desperately.

“Okay baby, alright.” She murmurs, getting herself situated on her elbow and bringing her mouth down to yours. You moan when you kiss her, mainly because she gave into your craving of her, but also because you could taste yourself all over her tongue. “Cantastethatright? Tastesgood” It’s muffled by your own lips as she speaks against them, not letting her pull back enough to speak clearly as your need to kiss her had become insatiable. You have no choice however, when you feel the pit of your stomach crying out in familiarity once more at the intense feeling.

“Ohmygod— gonna cum ‘gain Ellie. Oh Ellie!” She recalls you almost sound frightened, like you just can’t believe that someone could make her cum once, let alone twice.

“Yeah? Gonna give me another one?” She pulled away from you so that she could look at you, hand cupping up to thumb at your cheekbone so that your gaze remained on her as she did. Your eyes grew wild and desperate, wet and weak as you tried to be good for her and keep them open. “Thats it, beautiful. God— m’so fucking lucky. Just needed me to take care of you isn’t that right? That’s it baby, that’s my good girl. Take what you deserve.” You can barely hear her at this point, drowned out by the roaring white noise blasting your ears once more, your own moans a backing track. Her lips were at your temple, dropping encouraging kisses but you weren’t there. You’d floated up past her ceiling tiles, no longer a person. Yeah. That fucking good.

You came back to your body, eventually — you’re not sure when you left and when you returned but you could feel now, your own hand shooting out of its weak trance to grip her wrist and cease her movements. “El” You rasp weakly and she slows.

You seemed like you could fall asleep — and Ellie was happy to let you. You looked adorable and sleepy, so she took you in her arms, pressing kisses to your cheeks. “Did so good for me pretty girl.” She whispers, and it’s so warm and familiar like you’d been with her forever. Like that awful man had never been given the chance to touch you. What was his name again? You pout against her neck, letting her manoeuvre you and baby you. She’d clean you up in a little while, for now focused on holding you and telling you how good you did. She’d made you cum like you deserved, and that was two more times than Louis did. Ellie was… satisfied. “You okay?”

You wrapped your legs around her hips, drawing her closer to your body so that she was half on top of you. She chuckled, pulling back a little to look at you. “Hm? Caught your breath?” There was no cockiness in her voice, all gentleness when she cups your face making your eyes flutter open.

“Ellie.” You murmur, your own fingers grazing her cheeks like you were seeing her for the first time in years.

“Thats right, baby.” She grins, sounding like she was proud of you which made your heart swell. Her sweatpants covered crotch fell against your own slightly and you winced, suckling on your bottom lip and lashes fluttering from the feeling of the material against your engorged clit. “Shit, sorry—” She went to apologise, but your leg locked around her ass, pulling her back into you. You wriggled your hips, humping her like a little bunny rabbit.

Oh… you weren’t done.

“Yeah?” She was still smiling, but a darkness bolted through them, something else there, the sweetness disappearing for something more stern. “Want more?”

You’re lifting your hips now, trying to get some kind of feeling against you as your chest rises and falls — back into the swing of it. You felt deranged, like there was chance you’d be this damn horny forever.

She reaches down to grip your hips and thumps her covered cunt against yours a few times making you hum. She looks pensive, and when she looks back to you she’s decided. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

She’s pulling the harness over her boxers, sweatpants discarded next to your dress, before you’ve even registered her practically leap off the bed. The dildo attached is black, and your mind flashes back to your dream. Not purple then, huh.

She takes the time to look at you from a new angle, on your back, knees cutely pressed together. From where she stands, she can see the purple bruises her mouth had littered around your thighs. As she tightens the harness with one hand, she gently pushes you knee open with the other, getting a good look at your drenched, abused pussy. Your arms squish over your boobs, fists beneath your chin as you watch her in adoration.

Before you know it, she’s hovering over you again— leaning over to share a kiss, as if she’d missed you in the short amount of time she’d been apart from you. You feel the tip graze your slit and jolt slightly, fingers curling into her wifebeater. Pushing herself up to be able to see properly, she grips the cock in her fist before flushing.

“Fuck— uh, I don’t have lube.” She thinks, and thinks hard — this cock was undoubtably bigger than your now exes, and she didn’t want it to hurt. The idea of her splitting you open made her clit warm, but she was set on you feeling nothing short of amazing.

“S’okay.” You pout, high pitched and whiny as you tilt your hips down, trying to hump against the shaft — or the tip — or whatever you could reach.

“Nah s’big, babe. Need it nice n’wet for you.” She huffs. “Look, I can run down to the store. I know they sell it there and—”

She doesn’t even realise you’re pulling her desperately onto the bed, falling onto her back until she’s looking up at you. In any other situation, she’d expect you to suddenly be taking charge — asserting dominance, but no — you looked more fucked out than ever, staring down at her with big puppy dog eyes, whispering ‘Please’ over and over like a prayer.

She cups your cheek, pressing some of your hair against your face from her grasp and is about to clarify on ‘Please what, sweet girl?’ but the words catch in her throat when you crawl down her shakily, licking your swollen lips at the sight of her plastic cock. No way.

“You sure, baby?” The words died on her tongue as you start to mouth at it, pink tongue flattened desperately against the shiny strap. A low moan sounds from the back of your throat as you continue licking it like it had some kind of heavenly flavouring. Now Ellie knew it wasn’t strictly her dick, and maybe it was the way you were pressing the strap down into her crotch — but she couldn’t stop the curses from flying out. It felt… good. You drooled, the pearly, bubbly sheen dripping down the shaft before you took the tip of your mouth, obscene moans and sucking sounds bouncing around the room.

You pulled off with a pop for a second, glancing up at her with your hazy, submissive expression she’d grown fond of fast. “Feel like a slut.” You groan, high pitched and girlish. You had worry in your expression, brows knitted and eyes watery — but it didn’t quite meet your actions as you went back down, taking as much as you could in your throat. Ellie smirked, entertained as she pulled any hair out your face — watching your ministrations.

“You can be a slut for me if you want, it’s okay. Won’t tell anyone.” She cooes. You blink up at her, suckling on her tip. “Yeah. Don’t wanna be a slut for just anyone though do you? You want me to slut you out, like you deserve.” It doesn’t come out like a question in the slightest, her back teeth gritting when she watches your lashes flutter, eyes threatening to roll back. You pull off, dropping demure kisses to the now wet shaft. “You shy now? Come up here.” She’s grinning and you practically leap to straddle her.

You’re not focused on what she’s doing, busy kissing over her cheeks — and you’re suddenly confronted by her shifting you into position, sliding the wet tip through your velvety, leaking cunt. “You want it like this? Like how I taught you?” She tilts her head to look at you and you nod frantically, stopping yourself from lurching forward again and kissing every freckle on her face. Gotta be good for her, gotta be good for her — round and round your head like a broken record.

“Want it Ellie, please.” You whine and she’s shushing you, hot pressure searing within when she pushes in. It’s just like you dreamt, smooth— but small ridges catch inside you making you heave out a high pitched moan into her neck. Her free hand smoothes down your back, comforting you.

“I know.” She croons. “Gonna be a big girl and take it all, yeah?”

It takes you everything not to destroy the progress she’s made inside you and clamp down like a vice, so you fling in the opposite direction, arching your back into her to widen yourself. She feels this, feels you trying to help her push it inside and kisses your forehead. “Such a good fucking girl.”

She wants to give you time to adjust to the size, but as soon as it’s all the way in you rock against her, sliding it in and out. You choke out a pained whine and she tsk’s, holding you still.

“See? Just not cut out for doin’ any of the work are you?”

Something awake deep down within you past the submissive fog wants to be offended. But she’s right. You want whatever Ellie wants, and if she wants you to lay there on top of her and take it— that’s what you want too. She speaks again, and you almost hit a sudden orgasm, her feet flattening on the bed as she slowly bucks up, doing all the fucking for you as you lay limp on top of her. “Thats okay. Just my pretty pillow princess. Yeah, that sounds right doesn’t it.” She pants lowly, but the words echo around your head like she screamed it.

“Feels — so — mmpghm” Its muffled into her shoulder anyway, and her hands grip your ass cheeks, spreading you wider to take her deeper. You mewl.

“Oh that’s the spot, isn’t it babe.” The smugness is back, and you let her speed up, pounding that sore but needy spot inside you. “Fuck, gonna make me cum too with those pretty noises.” Her teeth are grit, and your mind reels. You didn’t know that was possible.

At this point, Ellie was beginning to use you to get off. The way she was tugging you back and fourth on her lap had you sliding the harness right up over her clit, the ridges inside pressing her through her boxers. If she could just hold on a little longer, put her focus back on you…

“Wish you… wish you could—” You choke on your moans, about to hurtle over the edge.

“Could what, hm?” She purses her lips, focused on her movements.

“Could cum inside me. Oh!” It hits you, and maybe it was your own words that did it. But she’s bucking off the bed soon enough, right behind you as her stomach tenses. The idea of her pearly white cum fountaining out your cunt when she’d unplug you making her go into fucking overload. She got sloppy, chasing her high but it was okay — you were crying again, the strap barely moving inside you from your clench but it didn’t stop Ellie from grinding, toes clenching and eyes squeezing shut. Fuck, fuck, shit. She was cumming.

You were pretty sure you blacked out. Because suddenly your eyes were fluttering open, senses returning to you slowly and you were just catching Ellie slipping into the bathroom, laying on your back now having been rolled over. You closed your eyes again sleepily, listening to the clattering of the harness hit the floor and a sighed out ‘Fuck’ from the dealer herself. The tap ran, and you dozed a little before Ellie returned with wipes.

“Mornin’ babe.” She chuckled, voice a little hoarse as you blinked up at her sleepily.

“Come n’cuddle.” Your voice was more hoarse, coming out cracked and squeaky. If you weren’t so sleepy, maybe you’d get shy about it.

“Alright, hold your horses. Need to get you nice and cleaned up first.” She shook her head, smiling at you affectionately as she settled between your thighs. Once she had wiped you up, helped you to the bathroom to pee, and pulled an oversized tshirt of hers over your head — then finally she was snuggling up beside you, pulling the blanket over you both. “There we go.” She stretched, arms above her head for a moment before they wrapped around you. “Ugh, I kinda stink.” She turned her nose up and you giggled into her chest. “Sorry bout that.” She chuckled.

“Don’t think you have to be sorry about anything ever again after that.” Your sweet voice is muffled, and your face warms again thinking about all the vulgar things she just did to you. All the vulgar things you did. You clamped your eyes shut, thinking about the desperate way you sucked her off.

“Good to know. In that case, definitely won’t be the last time I’m pulling that trick out.” She joked and you pulled back to look up at her with lovey-dovey eyes. She panicked, misreading. “Unless you don’t wanna…uh—”

You rolled your eyes. “I do. I want… I want you. Completely.”

Her expression softened, thumb drawing mindless shapes on your shoulder. “Yeah?”

“If you’ll have me, of course. Obviously gotta take care of… you know who, first.” You cringe, thinking it’ll surely ruin the mood.

“Can say his name you know, he’s not Voldemort.”

You giggle, snuggling back into her. “Just don’t wanna. Don’t wanna hear about that man ever again.” You smile, pressing the fat of your cheek into her small bust.

“I’m down for that.”

You let your eyes grow heavier, and when you’re silent for a few minutes — Ellie thinks you’ve fallen asleep. She smiles, in disbelief at the way things have turned out before turning her head to Dina’s textbook on the desk that she was meant to deliver to her at some point. Oops.

When she turns back to you, she almost jumps— your owlish eyes blinking up at her.

“Ellie, would you say a hot dog is a sandwich?”

She gapes down at you. “Hello?“

“Well I was talking about sandwiches earlier so now it’s on my mind!”

“Oh man, now we’re gonna have to argue. Who the hell said hot dogs are sandwiches?”

The two of you laughed, launching into a sleepy, delirium fuelled debate — and the world outside seemed to be held on pause. Maybe the reality of things would settle in tomorrow, but for now — you would just enjoy each others presence like you’d wanted to since the first time you’d met. This time, with no obstacles.

[lunas-side-anime-blog]

Modern College Student/BF Eren Yeager Headcanons

Armin version: HERE

Changed his major so. many. times.

Tried premed bc of his dad but then realized he had to take a lot of math and was like “lol no”

Was a business major for a bit but he didn’t have enough tact or strategy so dropped that pretty quick

Philosophy was next but he has such black and white way of thinking, he always got into arguments with the professors

Ethics was ruled out after like a week bc of…well, obvious reasons

Joined Armin’s major for like a month but it took so much studying and memory that he quit

Tried psych with Mikasa but yeah every teacher kept telling him to go to therapy??? And he was like “no thank you.”

Eventually i think he will land in something like sport communication or management, bc the competition really gets him fired up and he’s only good at something if he’s passionate about it

also feel like he’d be a college athlete with some scholarships so yeah, it makes sense

Not a great student tbh

Type of bitch to say “c’s get degrees.”

Really its only his public speaking skills that are keeping his grade afloat bc his presentations are sooo hype and get the class all inspired n shit

His essays and quizzes tho? Yeah, not so good

Bad at attending classes too, for sure will be like “srry my grandma died.”

And the teacher is just like “you’ve used that excuse already?twice??"

And hes just like “ugh fine you got me, I was tired and hungover”

Def tried to join a frat but Armin and Mikasa threatened to not be friends with him 

Still hangs with the frat boys a lot and is always partying with them

Pregames wayyy too hard tho, wasted before the party even starts

Unironically dances to lmfao and pitbull at college parties like “party rockers” is his fucking jam

Casual pothead, has a bong he def like nicknamed the “titan” cuz it’s so fucking huge

Will share his stash with you but like next time you got alc or bud just know he’s hitting that shit

High Eren is just really philosophical about freedom but with the munchies

Diet consists of instant ramen, mcdonalds and box mac n cheese, probably alot of redulls too

Thank god he’s athletic w a high metabolism 

Is fucking rocking the man bun and will fight you if you say otherwise

Games often with Jean, Conny and Sasha

Rage quits all the time and yes, Jean has recorded most of them for blackmail

Still uses snapchat streaks and will be so salty if one of his friends broke it

“You know nothing of loyalty. It’s one snap a day! How fucking hard was that?”  

Smells like irish spring body wash, old spice deodorant and weed

Also mint? I feel like he’s always chewing gum

One of those smokers who think he can just splash cold water on his face and chew on some gum and it wouldn’t be obvious that he’s high af

Carmex lip balm is the only slightly self care item he owns

Really into anime, loves the boss fights

I feel like he’d really like Naruto, Demon Slayer, Bnha or jojo’s bizarre adventure

You know anything with a lot of fights or training 

Ppl say he’d like Deathnote bc light but honestly I think he would get lost with all the twists and be like “why tf aren’t ppl just punching each other???”

Loves rap if he’s feeling good or screamo if he’s angry, like there's no in between lmao 

For sure listens to his music way too loud even with air pods

“Max volume isn’t enough, I wanna fuck the song” type of dude

I feel like him and Conny at one point prob tried to make a youtube channel where they like react to stuff 

Jean is the top commenter…..too bad it’s hate comments lol

Is one of those guys who has such a high body temp that even if it’s like december and snowing out, he’s still in basketball shorts and a short sleeve shirt 

Progressive bc Armin taught him how sex doesn’t equal gender, and pronouns are to be respected

Still a dick tho

“He’s such a fucking- wait hold up what are your pronouns?  They? K cool was just gonna talk shit about you but wanted to be respectful about it, thanks.”  goes back to his other conversation like, “They are such a fucking worthless cunt.”

As your bf

Probably met off tinder or something bc he is just a fuckboy looking to get his dick wet

But after fucking he just keeps hanging out with you? Or like if u get ur period or don't feel like sex he’s like, “it’s okay we can just watch a movie or something😀”

So ur not quite sure if you guys are fuckbuddies or not?

It becomes kinda obvious tho if he like ever sees you with another guy and gets all up in his face like “wtf are u doing with my girl/boy?”

U guys don’t have a clear anniversary bc he never asked u to be his, it was just kinda silently agreed upon?

Clingy lil bitch after sex like will follow u to the bathroom if u let him

Needs to shower with you, otherwise you both aint showering cuz he will turn off the water 

“Now we both stinky, bitch.”

Gives me the vibe of a guy who learned sex stuff thru porn

He goes really hard, fast and will put you in crazy positions

If u have a vagina you prob will have to like teach him about clit stimulation and literally take his hand and lead it there, he’s a fast learner though 

Will pull your hair but if you dare pull his?

He'll flip you over and spank you 

Wants sooo bad to be called daddy, up to you though if u wanna call him that but you can tell he tries to lead you to say it sometimes

Not really controlling or anything, actually loves an independent partner who has their own goals 

Is insanely jealous though, the only time he’s all up on you is if he thinks another guy is trying to get on you

If you fight tbh I think Eren can be a lil brat but I think he always has a time limit 

Like..he’s the type of guy that has about three days in him of being an asshole or being in silent treatment mode before he just breaks and knocks on your door begging for forgiveness

A little toxic but again, more so about others than actually controlling you

The type to start a fight in your insta comments if anyone other than him or your besties call you hot

Will try to be cool and say “wear whatever you want, I can fight”

And he will but like will he also cry later? Yes. 

Dates with him aren’t really dates? I think his love language is quality time so he’s the type to just try to hang out and make everything a lil “date”

Lots of late night car rides where you guys just talk and share songs (also car sex if ur up to it), lazy days where you two watch movies and cuddle in bed, also I think he’s the type of bf to try to tag along with you everywhere you go and offer to get you food afterwards

Only for like birthdays or anniversaires will he try to take you out for a fancy dinner, even then you might have to drop hints that you want a nice date bc honestly he’s totally okay getting mdconalds with you and pigging out

Overall he’s kinda a scary dog privellage as a boyfriend

Whose mainly all bark and no bite

(mostly)

Fav nicknames: Babe, babygir/babyboy, sexy, shortie 

Songs that fit the vibe: 505 by Arctic Monkeys, Cherry Waves by Deftones, Daddy Issues by the Neighbourhood

“I’d probably still adore you wth your hands around my neck”

“I’ll swim down with you, is that what you want?” 

“I tell you that I’m thinking about, whatever you’re thinking about”

[oh-no-its-bird]

Ok, so. Smashing together my recent posts (stoner Itama / the secret Senju weed empire money / co-dependent twins Itama and Tobirama) to make a cohesive narrative:

So, Itama survives AU.

In this, Itama and Tobirama are twins. They're very close, arguably closer to each other than Hashi is to either of them.

Growing up, after Kawarama died, Hashirama found a new friend in his boy by the river. Meaning the twins were sort of left to mourn on their own, their older brother no longer as interested in playing with them. They got to be almost dangerously codependent, and their father only encouraged it bc they were also training to fight as a duo, and the codependency made the team synergy go crazy hard.

On that note, they're absolutely terrifying in battle together for sure. They're nightmares on their own already, but together?? Let's say that as long as they're fighting side by side, they're on the same level as Hashirama himself.

Itama grows up to be a scientist like Tobirama, but in a different field of science— ✨️plants✨️

Itama is like, a bioengineer for plants. He's crossbreeding the fuck out of these bad boys, finding ways to amplify certain traits in some plants, erase them altogether in others, or mixing them up for the best of both worlds. Full doctor Frankenstein plant edition

It's fun bc he often gets help from both of his brothers, and he's also able to help the both of them in turn!

Hashirama helps with growing plants, meaning Itama doesn't have to wait the years this research would usually take. He can go from nothing to having his final product in days flat when it should have taken a fucking lifetime to do. If he fucks up it's no stress bc as long as he has the seeds, Hashirama can just grow him a new plant to start from! All he needs is one single seed and an entire world of new possibilities is unlocked.

On top of all that, the mokuton can affect the plants in ways growing by regular time doesn't, so Itama also gets to play with special mokuton plants too

Then Itama can give Hashirama all sorts of new plants to potentially use in battle, tho Hashirama doesn't seem to want to use want against the Uchiha. But like. He has them!! And it's fucking terrifying!!! Plus they can just in general bond over being plant enthusiasts. If Hashi finds a cool new plant or vice versa they can get excited about it together

Tobirama understands all to most of Itama's research, at least in theory, and will often help with his experiments. Likewise, Itama also understands all to most of Tobirama's own research (at least in theory) and can help him in return. Having their own specific fields of interest, they're often bringing a fresh pair of eyes and different thought process to the others experiments, and it's great for them both. SO many results.

Itama is let in on most of Tobirama's projects, and even if he's not helping he generally knows what he's working on and vice versa. They have few secrets and its actually just in general very good for Tobirama specifically. Like, mentally and support wise.

Because Itama never died to serve as that final push over the edge, and was instead there to offer emotional support, Tobirama didn't turn to necromancy. (If he had tho, Itama would have been fully on board— sorry Hashirama) Instead, maybe he's spending that time being even more focused on cool time/space jutsu or something.

So like, all grown up he's a poison specialist with a major wind chakra attribute and minor fire attribute. His main weapon is a pipe, which he just smokes normally on top of using its smoke as a weapon. He can put so much pressure into the smoke that it becomes physical, and can then be used as a blunt force weapon (on top of ofc the smoke being used as just smoke, and having different effects on its own)

He's immune to a lot of his smokes effects, but has special extra powerful versions of most of his go to weaponized smokes that are so strong they work even on him. Obviously, he doesn't usually use these in battle, but they're there as a last resort

Fun sort of chain reaction attack where he disperses some super flammable powder or smoke then tosses in a single spark and it goes up like fucking fireworks. Or a cool combo attack where Tobirama provides hella fog with whatever water is nearby, and Itama condenses it so thickly that it chokes out their enemies without having to lift a single finger.

He can make like, platforms of smoke to stand on or use as shields, and he's especially good at deflecting and redirecting enemy attacks with carefully condensed smoke shields summoned up at just the right angles. Like, imagine you throw a kunai and it bounces off some invisible platform, then off ANOTHER invisible platform, and somehow its still gaining momentum (propelled by summoned winds or wrapped in a slightly solidified veil of smoke thats moving it on its own) and hits you right in the eyes

He absolutely fucks around with making all SORTS of custom effects with whatever he's smoking, which also brings us to the idea that got me here in the first place ->

Ok so the joke about the Senju having a secret weed empire where they sell ultra special mokuton weed, but it happens fr in this AU bc of Itama.

Stoner Itama deciding he can make the weed even better and forgetting what the word self-control means and making objectively the best weed in the naruto world. Ultra delux genetically modified mokuton grown senju weed.

Tobirama kind of gets on him for it at first (not liking the idea of mind-altering substances) but then tries some and stares dead silent at a wall for 10 hours then silently gets up, makes several scientific breakthroughs, then passes out dead on the floor.

They get Hashirama in on it and start mass producing, then start selling it and very quickly and mostly accidentally create a secret senju weed empire (oops?) which also gives them hella funds or the war and other things

No one can even reproduce their weed bc they need the Mokuton to grow it right, they have no competition in the market. AND their product safety/quality is insane bc Tobirama's perfectionist ass helps oversee it

Bc of Itama's interference, Izuna lives, and when they make Konoha the weed money means the first shinobi war doesn't happen bc they can afford to bribe officials they couldn't before (and probably have a uhh. Much more relaxed Kage meeting that year.)

You can't go to war with Konoha !!! That's where all the best ninja weed comes from !!!

Itama and Izuna get along really well actually. Izuna's cringe fail ass does NOT know how to smoke and refuses to admit it, he also becomes Itama's favorite test subjects for new product bc he and his brothers tolerance levels are insane so they need like, a normal guy to try shit on

As a person, Itama is one of those really friendly, charming, easy to get along with guys who seem to have a ton of friends— but when you look a bit closer you quickly notice that while many of those friends share their woes with him, he doesn't really with them. He has lots of friends but isn't really close to any.

He's a pretty good mix of his brothers, seeming friendly and cheerful like Hashirama but much more down to earth, and with the same ruthless streak as Tobirama underneath all the gentle mannerisms. He might be more ruthless than either of his brothers when it really comes down to it, but he's very slow to strike or anger, and virtually no one but his brothers and Touka really know he even has that side to him.

He's Konoha's lead poisons expert, is 100% aware and helping Tobirama with all of his especially fucked up experiments, and honestly that should tell you enough— but most tend to get distracted by the soft smiles and sleepy expression.

Art interlude ->

Anyways uhhh. All of this only exists bc I started thinking ab stoner Itama getting dumped face first into modern Konoha with Izuna, the two of them having been hiding after pissing off Madara for unimportant reasons. They don't realize they're not in their Konoha, and proceed to run from Madara (who they still think is mad at them)

Meanwhile Madara is losing his fucking MIND trying to chase down the ghost of his brother, and also some guy...? Who is that actually? He doesnt really give a shit tbh, Izuna oh god please come back here— ARE YOU FUCKING HIGH RIGHT NOW?

@fashionredalert : Zetsu lived in fear of Itama because itama would have made him into an edible That's why zetsu is two colors, itama smoked one half of him before zetsu managed to escape. One half intact the other half charred black

Please?? The closest hes been to death in years.

Itama was put on this earth to smoke everything he physically can, he hasnt been sober since he was 13, he no longer knows the meaning of fear or sanity. If it can burn he can smoke it

Hes holding one of those tiny Zetsu's going "Hey look at this fucked up plant I found :DD" then taking it straight into the weed lab

Zetsu specifically had him killed in canon bc he knew he'd grow to be too powerful pass it on

[joltning]

how I see them cooking

church: the worst fucking cook out of all of them. just absolute horrible blames everything on caboose puts things to 10000 degrees and is like ☹️why did it burn ☹️wtf. has never made an edible thing in his life.

tucker: pretty good I mean he’s not making anything gourmet but any time blue team has to cook real food he does it and has to ban church and caboose cause they fuck it up so bad. might have some questionable tastes tho so his personal food is a little fucked

caboose: surprisingly not that bad but makes a Mess. it’ll taste good but still have an eggshell in it and the whole room is covered in ingredients

tex: pretty normal. she doesn’t seem like a big cooking fan though she might just eat an onion for the hell of it

sarge: good. but put him on the grill NOW. he needs to grill Now. he probably has a homemade rub that tastes bomb. he probably puts it on everything though and the rest of the team is shouting at him for putting pepper on his ice cream or something

simmons: bare minimum. he can make instant food and basic meals but he wings it or looks up a recipe. I can imagine he chops vegetables pretty fast

grif: well versed in the art of comfort food. he doesn’t really like cooking bc it takes a long ass time but he’s a good ‘throw shit in a pot’ kind of guy. shit is probably fire. I see him doing it when stressed maybe.

donut: all talk. great baker great mixologist never get him near a stovetop because he is starting a grease fire. even when he does cook a good dish it only looks really nice and tastes mid

lopez: honestly I’m not sure. im thinking a lot of simple meals with not a lot of spices cause he can’t. taste. but he sees them add like salt after and he’s like Oh Ok So you don’t like it. and spices it the fuck up. honestly might be the best cook of them because of versatility. he just downloads a shit ton of recipes once and never again

doc: everyone gets this but the Worst fucking healthy options Ever. to an absurd level

kai: she keeps fucking making infused foods and leaving them out. simmons had a weed brownie it was an experience. she’d make those ‘battery acid’ tiktok drinks go into a sugar high and pass out

locus: every time they have a cookout he brings a huge pot of mashed potatoes and gravy. no one knows where he gets it or when he has the time to make it. no one asked him to bring food

[allamericansbitch]

since y'all seemed to want this.... here's the live notes i took while listening to each song for the first time (bold are thoughts i had during later listens)

fortnight: 

‘i was a functioning alcohol till nobody noticed my new aesthetic’ what the fuck does that even mean…

love the fact she gave post the female collab treatment. don’t wanna hear what he has to say. 

they’re voices sound actually good together? 

some pockets of the melody are catchy

okay i don’t hate this 

ttpd:

her red flags are on fire in this song lol

this seems very half-cooked

also jacks weird mixing continues to plague us all

CHARLIE PUTH???? WHAT THE FUCK WHY HE HERE

tattooed golden retriever??? ……no way

my boy breaks all his favorite toys:

i blinked and it’s half over

this also is like… half cooked and didn’t need to be released tbh

i love the way she sings the second verse tho

down and:

the production does not match the vibe

did tpain produce this

i’m… kinda bored lol

like i have nothing to say this also didn’t need to be released tbh 

this grew on me a lot actually

so long london 

the production is so futuristic? 

oh im obsessed with how she sounds on this one

her talk-singing in the verses is great

honest lyrics without any clunky unnecessary metaphors! a win!!

the fast-paced verses with th slow chorus is really really cool

a favorite so far

daddy i love him

i can barely hear her? the bad mixing continues 

‘growing up precociously sometimes means not growing up at all’ oh yeah WE KNOW

is this…… is this about her dating matty and loving how people hate him… no fucking way she’s this stupid

SHE IS BEING THIS STUPID

‘it’s white noise’ yeah yeah that’s exactly how id describe him  

.... anyway y'all remember when fans really believed the little mermaid theory and this song was supposed to be about how 'joe stole her voice' lmaooo

we will pretend this one doesn't exist!

fresh out the slammer

are we getting another ‘i didn’t cheat technically’ song lol

what is this weird tempo change….

okay kinda catchy

it’s sounds exactly like you are in love at the end….. jack is really out of tricks

florida

‘my friends all smell like weed or little babies’ what the fuck is she even talking about anymore 

i’m sorry but i’m laughing at the phrase ‘fuck me up florida’

again the production sounds so detached from the vocals 

i honestly still have no idea how i feel about this one

guilt as sin

an real instrument?? wow crazy 

okay she’s kinda cute? catchy and fun, love the melody

i love when she goes up at the end of the vocal 

okay…. i don’t mind this one she’s catchy, a little too long and drawn out but cute

who’s afraid of little old me?

what is this production? it’s way too soft to be as threatening as they’re trying for 

why did jack push her vocals back so far when she’s supposed to scream…. that’s ruins the whole thing…. she’s supposed to be screaming and threatening….. not quiet and far away…. hello

this song is trying very hard to be threatening but it’s not... vigilante shit 2.0

‘you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum they raised me’…………… upper middle-class pennsylvania? 

‘i’m drunk on my own tears isn’t that what they all say, that’ll  sue you if you step on my lawn’ okay bar?

the bridge was good but that’s about it.

i can fix him 

…………… not another matty song oh god

‘i can handle a dangerous man’…… im too stunned to speak this is so embarrassing 

wow taylor really is that girl who like ‘women supporting women’ and then dates/defends a racist bf…. a walking example of white feminism

intersectional feminism found dead.... twice....

loml

okay this is really nice? 

I WAS ACTUALLY ENJOYING THE SONG WHY DID SHE RUIN IT BY SAYING ‘MR STEAL YOUR GIRL’ 💀

if we ignore that one line we're good this is good. im refusing to let that line ruin such a good song

i can do it with a broken heart

‘bitch smile’ why are there so many cringey lyrics on this album lol

what is this song omg why do i kind of like it 

taylor please learn depressed isn’t a synonym for sad 

they recycled the mastermind production 

wait till taylor finds out most of the entire world is sad while they're doing their job and has to pretend they're not

smallest man who ever lived 

oh i think i like this?

‘you said normal girls were boring’ GIRL AND YOU DIDNT IMMEDIATELY GET UP AND LEAVE??? EWWWW??? she's not beating the pick-me allegations

'i just wanna know if rusting my sparking summer was the goal' okay love that line

i like this a lot

the alchemy

no….. no way this is real

i cannot

THE SPORTS METAPHORS WE JOKED SHED DO THAT AND SHE ACTUALLY DID IT OH NO 

touchdown ✅ teams ✅ benches ✅ winning streak ✅ the league ✅

she’s doing…… the worst thing ever this is so laughable 

the corny lyrics are on overload 

‘this time it’s heroine with an e’ didn’t she write folklore? i can’t remember 

that literally was an snl parody of a taylor song

clara bow

love how the guitar sounds… bet money this is an aaron track 

a stevie nicks reference!! a win!!!

i like this one a lot no cringey lyrics yet

nope never mind she name-dropped herself don’t like that

overall really liked it tho

the black dog

i think i like it?? this is kind of what i expected the album to be

okay for once the weird production choices kind of pay off

imgonnagetyouback

kinda catchy? 

she loves a fancy car getting wrecked line

the pre-choruses are the best part 

this would’ve been better without the jack of it all bc he loves a song that doesnt build to anything

this just comes down to personal preference: i don’t like her lighter vocals with jack’s heavy production (ie most of lover lol)

the albatross

a real instrument!!! production that matches taylor’s voice and is well mixed!!! aaron’s arrived!! 

i think it’s solid, has good writing and she sounds great. that's about it.

chloe or sam or…

took me a solid minute to have any semblance of a fuck to know what was going on but okay

okay i love this one

wayyyy more emotive than like… most of the original album

a lot of the 2nd version (or whatever this is lol) are way more emotive, maybe because her voice isnt drenched in reverb so we can actually hear her voice emote better

how did it end

this sounds like an old school adele song? 

i love this one too…. 

her being upset people wanna know what happened but then also feeding it while promoting the album oop 

i love the story of this one it's so refreshing

so high school

THE PRODUCTION is so good ugh aaron never fails 

the man here is a walking red flag girl and the lyrics are ~not it~ but the production is too pretty to hate it

fuck these lyrics are so bad lol

maybe if i disassociate hard enough i can ignore the lyrics and just listen to the production and vibe

give me a karaoke version of this song and we'd be so back

i hate it here

i mentioned disassociation and she made a whole song about it!!!! this one’s mine!!!! 

‘without all the racists’ GIRL HUH

WHAT WAS THE REASON

also... girl don’t act like we don’t know you’re fine with that lololololol

if i had a dime for every time i was liking a song to then have it slapped away because of a bad, out-of-pocket lyric…… 

thank you aimee

this isn’t grabbing my attention 

oh the bridge is interesting 

it’s meh 

i will never be thanking the people that bullied me thanks tho

i look in peoples windows 

what do you mean aaron didn’t produce this??? it’s well-made and has instruments? 

i love this one, again a really interesting and unique concept that's very refreshing to hear at this point when a lot of the songs feel repetitive

the prophecy

aaron guitar!!!! 

she’s nice i like her 

i've really grown to love how she sings this one, the melodies are cool.. however i feel like we've heard the same melody.. like on this exact album... where she upturns at the end of every line...

cassandra 

this seems very…. familiar… idk i feel like we’ve covered this (i mean there are 31 songs we’ve already covered everything lol)

this is such an aaron song, that's a classic 'the national' piano

i like her voice in this one tho, sounds good

peter

oh love i love this

now this? THIS feels the most like a taylor swift song

once again she’s at her best with a simple instrument and emotive simple lyrics

the piano reminds me of champagne problems

the bolter 

i like this! the chorus is so cute

oh i like that ending line a lot!

she’s cute, a little long and drawn out but cute

robin

i haven’t seen anyone talk about this one

welp…. i literally have no feelings toward this one but sounds pretty! 

the manuscript

oh this is soooooooo powerful 

i love this concept 

her ending the album on another introspective album that sums everything up a la dear reader yep yep!!

if you actually read of this ily 💗

[awoogahonkhonk]

There’s actually a lot of TWST characters who I think would (or wouldn’t) partake in the devils lettuce sooo here are some TWST weed Headcanons.

~~~

Also, Ik they teens. Teens, don’t do drugs. But I did as a teen and am still not of age, high while writing this soooo yeah. Please remember that this is fiction and these are fictional characters.

Note: not all characters are in this list. If I didn’t add a character it’s either cause I had nothing of substance to say about them or I don’t know the character enough to make a proper headcanon. Also if I say something wrong I’m sorry I’m not a connoisseur I just do what I get.

Warning(s): General talk about weed, Yuu is a stoner(maybe idk) in this, cursing, unedited and written by someone under the influence

~~~

Riddle Rosehearts: As much as I want him to, and I think he would actually benefit from it, he wouldn’t. Especially pre overblot but also post. And it’s more than it’s against the rules. All he knows about marijuana is what he’s learned from the anti drug PSA’s his moms had him watch. And he hates the smell. And his fragile lungs can’t take smoke. And he doesn’t trust edibles or like the taste. So, as much as I want him to just give it a chance and chill tf out, it’s a firm no.

Trey Clover: He’s impartial. Doesn’t like smoking, or getting high in general but he doesn’t have anything against others doing it. May smoke in group settings but rarely. He will 100% make some fire weed brownies if you ask. Also, number one guy to be with if you get the munchies.

Cater Diamond: I think he’s tried it, had a bad high, and never touched the stuff again. Might be convinced to try again with some close friends but only if they know what they’re doing. Also, acts like he knows what he’s doing but ends up hacking up a lung.

Ace Trappola: Yeah why not. He’s down to try anything once. Actually likes being high with people, like him and Deuce and Yuu have reg smoke sessions and he loves it. Just likes the feeling idk. I don’t think he smokes alone tho. Likes flavored pens.

Deuce Spade: Will attend every smoke session and get a second hand high but will rarely actually participate. He thinks he has to be the responsible one while Yuu and Ace get high off their asses. But he’s not against smoking a little every once in awhile.

Leona Kingscholar: For sure dude. Someone is almost always on something in Savanaclaw so he’s been around his fair share and tried a couple things. Doesn’t like the smell from joints cause yk beast man heightened everything. So he prefers edibles or pens. Pens still stink to him but not as bad. Casual stoner. It helps him sleep when everyone in his dorm is all riled up over nothing. Gave Ruggie his first edible but was not happy when he had to take care of him after he greened out. (I have so many nsfw thoughts about Leona and smoking with Yuu omg don’t)

Ruggie Bucchi: Like I said, first time he had an edible he greened out. In his defense, the dosage was way too much. Leona kinda forgot he wasn’t as tolerant as him. He didn’t really want to do it again after that but he figured out smoking was easier cause he could gage where he was better. So now he’s a lil stoner. High Ruggie = ravenous Ruggie. Like Fr you’d think this kid was starving the way he was shoveling shredded cheese into his mouth, straight out the bag.

Azul Ashengrotto: Just gonna make a blanket statement now, none of the mer students smoke. They aren’t technically supposed to have lungs and filling those lungs with smoke is just painful. So he doesn’t smoke. He’ll do an edible every so often, usually to help him sleep, but that’s it. IS the campus dealer tho. He knows a guy. He knows quite a few guys actually. Hooks everyone up, for a price.

Jade Leech: Never has, never will. Has absolutely no interest in it. Doesn’t like not being in control of himself. Will be around when others get high though, he thinks it’s hilarious. Especially when people do too much and get sick.

Floyd Leech: Complete opposite of his brother. Will get high anytime, anywhere, with anyone. It hurts to smoke, like I said previously, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t trying. It’s actually getting better. He also thinks smoking looks cooler than edibles. High Floyd is a very cuddly monster. Will squeeze anyone who gets close enough. Just be thankful that he’s too out of it to use his full strength.

Vil Schoenheit: Will loudly advocate against it and ban his dorm from doing it but probably has a secret stash somewhere. Only Rook knows about it. He’s stressed ok?! You try being a famous actor/model/fairest in the land.

Epel Felmier: My boy wants to. He really does. He thinks it looks so cool, and if Yuu can do it so can he! But the smoke burns his lungs and edibles taste bad. But that doesn’t stop him from trying!

Idia Shroud: OKAY so there are two ways I could write this. Cannon how he probably is, or headcannon how I want him to be and see him as. Cannon, he probably talks a big game but actually knows jack shit about drugs of any kind. And is kinda scared to try. But he will, to seem cool. Ends up coughing up his heart but he tried and that’s what counts. And now he can officially say he’s ‘done weed’. Headcannon, Idia as a little loner stoner. It calms his nerves and makes it easier to talk to people. Usually if he’s out of his dorm, he’s high. He’s also high when he’s in his dorm. It helps him sleep and he thinks better with a lil weed in his system. May have developed a small codependency but that’s okay(no it’s not seek help). Mr wake and bake.

Malleus Draconia: Weed? Like, dandelions? What? He’s so confused when someone offers. Why would you smoke weeds? Lilia has to explain it to him three different ways before he gets it. He’ll try, but please give him an edible. It’s for your own safety. His lungs could probably take the smoke but if he ends up taking a hit too big he will cough up flames and not little ones. Very spacey once he’s high. Will stair at the ceiling for hours and say absolutely nothing.

Lilia Vanrouge: Has, will, wants to rn actually. Lilia lived through the 70s, he’s done almost every drug known to man, and probably some not yet known, at least once. Why not? He can take it. Doesn’t smoke often but also does? Idk how to explain it. Likes flavored cartridges more than anything else. The weirdo who fucks with cotton candy. He gets bad cotton mouth tho so… I mean, if you believe in the vampire theory like I do…👀

Silver: The first time he smoked was with his dad. He walked in on Lilia and a bong when he was like 15 and Lilia was like cmon m’boy. Now, he’s concerned that Lilia wasn’t more careful and exposed him so young but that also means he has an okay relationship with weed. Like, he’s able to make his decision firmly due to plenty of experimentation. He hates smoking and edibles generally but will absolutely body some weed brownies.

[conanssummerchild]

im bored as shit so im going to asign a community person/ship to every conan gray song bcs i really just use this site as a stream of my conciousness, if anyone has a better one for any of them feel free to tell me, also fair warning abed is my fav character, i'll try not to make everything abt him and troy but no promises

grow: the whole final episode really but im thinking mostly jeff tbh or also abed leaving for LA, or even maybe troy leaving on his voyage ☹️

idle town: the 'town' being greendale i feel like this applies to jeff also 😭 like its abt all of them but its jeffs pov

generation why: im thinking my girl britta hehe idk how to explain it but the vibes are so there

crush culture: im thinking annie, but also maybe jeff, aro king 👑

greek god: im thinking maybe abed in high school? i would say annie but she seemed to care more about fitting in while abed had accepted he couldnt, also hes like insightful and observant yk

lookalike: oh my god, brittas pov and its about jeff and slater oof

the other side: troy and abed, specifically in geothermal escapism 😭</3 im killing myself why would i do this

the king: okay fuck this is so trobed coded, abeds pov

comfort crowd: the whole study group tbh <33 in more specifics i was thinking jeff + the study group and honestly abed and annie

wish you were sober: i mean this one has to be either jeff and britta or britta and troy, though troy and britta could be taken either as britta wanting to go party and smoke weed or wtv and troy not rlly doing that stuff or britta feeling rejected bcs of troy giving all his attention to abed 😭 (like as in wish u were sober being wish u werent a raging homosexual)

maniac: probably i'd have to say jeffbritta from either pov

(online love): i... dont know tbh. the vibes are giving annie and troy for some reason, maybe once troys already left?

checkmate: the fond eyeroll i had to give, jeff and britta again. maybe annie being pissed at jeff over their kiss but i dont ship them romantically

the cut that always bleeds: idk, maybe jeff and annies weird ass relationship that keeps fucking happening is the closest, from annies pov

fight or flight: idk tbh, maybe trobed and britta if i had to go with smth, this one is mostly EXTREMELY byler coded (from stranger things) and im never fucking letting that go

affluenza: ok i mean ive gotta give this one to jeff dont i

(can we be friends?): troy abed and annie <3 im so soft for them

heather: ok fuck i HAVE to say trobed and britta and its abeds pov and if we're being specific them in virtual systems analysis becuase i'll never get over this episode ("ive run the simulations, i dont get married :/") bcs i fucking love abed being jealous of britta while she was with troy in the cool way but also in the sad if troy cant love me no one will way

little league: this is troy and abed when troy leaves :(((( and this is canon bcs my beloved wife and i are so troy and abed coded and she loves little league sooo

the story: ok so the boy and the girl are hmm annie and abed, the boy and the boy are troy and abed duh doy, him and his friend are maybe idk britta and troy, i dont wanna say jeff or abed bcs their dad/mum abandoned them and that bit's abt wanting to get away from ur parents yk

fake: (😭) maybe jeff (alan's pov 😔😔💔💔) nah but fr i see people joking abt his song but its lowkey fire

overdrive: WHY DO THEY ALL MAKE ME THINK OF JEFF AND BRITTA

telepath: jeff 😔 and 😔 britta 😔

movies: ok i literally cant say anyone other than abed, the king of movies. im not really feeling troy tho, maybe rachel, like maybe when abed kept trying to super speed run their relationship and he was anxious abt not passing the relationship tests

people watching: the MOST annie coded song ever holy fuck she is so people watching coded i love her so much

disaster: abed. or britta. my abandonment/commitment issues babies <33

best friend: TROBED. THE ONLY BEST FRIENDS EVER

astronomy: would it be absolutely too painful if i said troy and abed. honestly i actually think im feeling more jeff and abed but not like at eachother just both of them together in their sadness, from their pov to someone else (britta and troy probably seeing as these r their main romantic interests)

yours: AHH THIS SONG DEAR GOD </3 can i say abed jesus fuck im killing myself this one for abed hurts so much, not really directed at anyone in specific, or more like just directed at everyone, just his abandonment issues :( ("i dont always see it coming" PUT ME DOWN)

jigsaw: oo britta, my queen she just wants to be loved so bad </3 but also a bit abed ("if being less insane would make you stay" oof)

family line: okay. jeff.he actually invented having daddy issues

summer child: ok its abed bcs i kin him idc, im conans summer child™ and i said so /lh

footnote: not quite sure, very annie coded imo. maybe trobed? either pov ig but im feeling troy

memories: hm, trobed after troy leaves? abed trying to get over him but he keeps imagining troys still there with him like as in one of the hallucinations he has bcs i read a fic like this yesterday and it was sooooo good, idk maybe this is a little far fetched

the exit: im not rlly sure actually, either jeffbritta after the whole i love you in front of anyone fiasco or trobed when troys dating britta 🤷‍♂️

never ending song: ok, jeffbritta.

winner: THE MOST SONG EVER. ok this one is abed. it will always be abed. family line i feel like is more about a hostile home enviroment and jeff implies that his was, while winner is more pain of neglect or disconnect so i feel like its more appliable to abed because of how hes shown to not be understood by his parents and feels responsible for his mother leaving and this makes me think of the line "you dont really wanna hear the truth, do you?" because like his mum loving him on paper but not actually loving who he is or be willing to accept hes different and has different needs FUCK abeds mother all my homies hate abeds mother (what im not projecting at all my parents definitely love me and accept that im autistic /s)

killing me: im not quite sure actually. conan did write this song about someone who gave him tonsilitis and abed cannonically had tonsilitis though so 🤯

lonely dancers: hmm i feel like this song is upbeat enough to be trobed being silly tgth but maybe its more jeffbritta coded, or jeff and abed abt britta and troy, or vice versa, not sure

sorry i never mentioned shirley i do love her

feel free to take any of these as platonic or romantic idrk, a lot of them i couldve meant either way anyway

if u even made it this far u can have a gold star ⭐️ there u go

[dirtysvthoughts]

𝓟 𝓡 𝓘 𝓥 𝓐 𝓣 𝓔 𝓓 𝓐 𝓝 𝓒 𝓔 𝓡 - CHAPTER FOUR

pairing: rapper! seungcheol x stripper! reader

word count: 3.2k (longest for this series so far!)

general tags/warnings: smut, pwp, female! reader, dom! seungcheol, deep voice cheol, dirty talk, giving cheol head, reader gets partially nude, mentions of d*ugs, pet names, grinding on the d w/o a condom (please protect yourselves tho, always), seungcheol’s fave body part on you is your ass (he is an ass man, i’m not fighting people on this, it’s a fact)

notes: after about a nearly two month break we’re back! sorry y’all i know the momentum has kinda died out a bit, but between coming back to the states after a month long trip and returning to my normal routines and going back to work and some family stuff, it was hard to find the energy to write. but we’re back nonetheless! thank you for sticking by if you’re still here!

playlist songs: money showers - fat joe, remy ma, ty dolla sign, hey daddy (daddy’s home) - usher, another nasty song - latto

taglist: @im-gemmy @enhacolor @hooniewnderland @svtup @kawaiikels @weeevrse @diorsfxck @kyexvly @woozarts @ifuckcheol @marsstarxhwa @haoxiaoba (if your user is crossed out that means i cant tag you)

the smell of weed is strong enough to take over the small studio space, it slightly crowded with the amount of people in the room. a few producers sit in their chairs, altering the sound board controls every and now and then, a heavy bass booming through the system.

behind the door and in the booth is seungcheol, or s.coups (his stage name), spitting fire into the mic as he records the final tracks for an upcoming, anticipated mixtape. he had a pretty decent following after posting some songs on soundcloud for the fun of it, and it continued to grow when he released his first mixtape a few months ago. now pretty much everyone knew his name and it wouldn’t be long before he caught the attention of a mainstream, viral artist.

as he says his last words, the volume goes down and a voice fills the booth, “yeah man, that was great as fuck!” seungcheol smiles as he puts up his headphones and exits the room, dapping up all the producers to thank them for their hard work.

“this mixtape is gonna be so fire, cheol, you’re really out there now!”

“yeah, soon you’re not even gonna need us anymore, working with all those big time producers,” someone chimes in and seungcheol immediately frowns.

“hey man, don’t even say that. you guys were the first people to give me a chance, i’m never gonna forget my brothers,” he nudges them in their shoulder, and they respond by rolling their eyes.

“well that was the last track we had to do for today, what are you guys’s plans for tonight?” someone asks, but before he can even answer, seungcheol hears his phone ring with a text message alert.

princess: hey cheollie, just making sure you’re still on for tonight at illusion! i have a vip room ready and waiting just for you baby ❤️

he can’t help it, but his dick twitches at the last sentence you typed out. he was intoxicated just by the thought of you.

seungcheol has been one of your few regulars ever since he showed up to the club one night two years ago, celebrating the release of his first mixtape. the night in it of itself was a movie, expensive bottles everywhere, music blasting, and girls half-naked dancing on the tables and couches. cheol’s section was upstairs and it was where the party was really at. word got around quickly through the dressing room that cheol was there, and most of the dancers were hanging out with him and his entourage, trying to be the one girl to get him all to themselves. who wouldn’t want him all his glory to be honest?

you however, not exactly enticed by the rowdiness, took your spot at one of the available poles on the main floor. “just another one of those wannabe rappers,” you thought. not too far from his section, you went into one of your routines once a new song started playing. while spinning and inverting, enjoying the high the pole gave you, you didn’t even notice that seungcheol’s attention somehow made its way towards you.

to say the least, he was astounded. not only were you gorgeous in every way possible, you danced like you were on air, as if gravity meant nothing to you. as one of the bottle girls walked through to deliver another round of shots, she calls out to him, waking up from his trance when one of his friends shakes his shoulder.

“coups, are we getting more shots or what? stop daydreaming, it’s way too lit in here for that,” he grabs the ass of the dancer that was currently grinding onto him, matching his body to her energy to mimic riding her.

“y-yeah, sorry, we’ll have more shots,” seungcheol stutters as the server puts down the tray. before she can leave though, he taps her hand.

“do you know all of the dancers here?”

“yeah..” she responds in a slightly confused tone. “why are you asking?”

cheol then points to you, thanking the gods that you didn’t disappear from his line of sight. cash now lined your pole’s platform as your hips rolled to the beat, and then dropped down into a surprise split, patrons tossing even more bills at you.

“who’s she? she’s so fucking sexy,” he sighs sweetly, wanting to leave the table and everyone else just to have even a moment with you.

“oh, that’s sage - she’s one of our main dancers. if you wanna see her dance for you though, you better ask fast. there’s a reason why she’s so popular,” she says as she walks away carrying the empty tray under her arms.

without a second thought, he gets up from the table and goes down the stairs, his friends groaning in disappointment that seungcheol was leaving them. “this is all for you and you’re leaving the fun?” someone calls out behind him.

“i’ll be back in a bit!” he waved his hand, motioning to shoo them away. “there’s something i wanna do first.” with his friends out of the way, now he could focus on what he really wanted - you.

little did the both of you know that you would meeting sooner than you thought. you needed to make your way to the dressing room to grab something, but you got so caught up in your drive that you didn’t even notice another body heading directly towards you. you and cheol then accidentally bump into each other, and luckily you’re able to regain your balance in your heels just in time.

“whoa, i’m so sorry, i didn’t see you ther-” seungcheol freezes mid-sentence when he realizes it was you he bumped into. “holy shit,” he thought to himself. you looked gorgeous from afar, but right in front of him? it was taking everything in him not to have his hard-on show.

“no, it was my bad, i wasn’t paying attention,” you respond, your voice flowing sweet like honey to him. you try to continue walking but cheol reaches out and grabs your hand. you look at him funny as he doesn’t say anything at first.

“is there something else you need?” you ask, a bit confused, wanting to hurry up and go to the dressing room.

“yeah, you,” he thinks to himself again, trying to keep his eyes on yours and not at how your boobs were almost spilling out of your olive green two-piece.

he gathers his thoughts and takes a mental sigh. “there is actually,” he smirks as he pulls you closer to his body, his hands on your waist. he whispers in your ear and it sends shivers down your spine and your core.

“lemme take you to a room, princess. i saw you dancing over there and i wanna have you all to myself.” you bit your lip hard at the proposal. while he may have awkwardly grabbed your hand and you questioned his actions for a second, you could see why practically everyone was trying to be in his section. he’s handsome as fuck, his dark hair slightly hanging over his eyes, and his black shirt and jeans defining his built body. and to top it off, he had a voice that melted you like chocolate fondue.

“how will i know that it’ll be worth it? you’re clearly not the first guy i’ve taken to a room and you definitely won’t be the last. how will you make it worth my while?” you tease him, twirling your hair in between your fingers.

he chuckles and runs his hand through his hair. “why tell you and waste time when we can just get to it now, princess?”

yup, just your style.

“wait by the bar for me?” you wink at him as you go to the dressing room, purposefully walking slower to make sure got a full view of back of your body, admiring how good your ass looked even from afar.

he couldn’t help but smile to himself as he walked to the bar, in awe at the fact that he was so damn lucky today. a successful mixtape release, a great party, and now the most gorgeous woman he ever laid eyes on was about to be in his sole presence. nothing could get better than this.

or so he thought, because later than night. things definitely got way better when you finally took him to a vip room. after you danced for him on the pole, it lead to one of the hottest lap dances you’ve ever given, which subsequently lead to seungcheol taking you down on the couch, having you scream and moan his name until you came not once, not twice, but three times in the span you two were together.

ever since then, seungcheol came to see you nearly every single week, providing you with stacks of cash, phenomenal sex, a good conversation, and sometimes even all three. you also quickly realized that cheol definitely was not one of those “wannabe soundcloud rappers.” he had the talent, charisma, and passion for the industry, and you hoped that someone would recognize him for his gifts very soon.

going back to the present, cheol speaks up getting the attention of his audience. “well sage is working tonight, and today’s the usual day i go see her, so if anyone wants to hit up club illusion with me, we’ll roll right now,” he looks down at his silver audemars piguet watch, the hands pointing very close to the 10. a few people agree to go with him, others saying that they weren’t in the mood for a strip club or they had other places to be at.

cheollie: i’ll be there soon, i just wrapped up another studio session. can’t wait to see you princess, been on my mind all day

after getting some food and chilling out, the group finally makes its way to the club, the line pretty much nonexistent at this time for a thursday night. he and his crew stick together, some of the dancers approaching them.

“hey coups,” one of the girls flirts with him, biting her lip. another dancer next to her waves her hand, flipping her hair back to show off her decorated neck, inviting seungcheol to come touch her. he nods and smiles at the both of them, but he was only interested in just one person.

“coups!” you call out for him, spotting him from a distance. you walk down from the platform - your lemon-colored sequin bikini set tracing every beautiful curve on your body, the yellow heels you wore matching perfectly. as you walk down to meet him, you can’t help but admire how sexy he looks. his blonde hair, his white shirt encapsulating his muscles, his expensive sunglasses on his forehead. seungcheol quickly embraces you when you take your last step off the stairs, hands on your waist and both your lips locking immediately. it quickly escalates, moaning into his mouth when you feel his tongue roaming yours.

his friends groan behind of him when they see how intimate you two become, seungcheol’s hands starting to palm your ass. he turns his head, chuckling at their reactions, “like what you see?” he winks at them and goes back to kissing you, hands now moving their way across your chest.

they mumble to each other and leave the two of you alone, making their way to the main floor to find a table. once you know they’re out of sight, you grab his chin, causing seungcheol to stop and look at you. “finally,” you sigh happily, kissing the inside of his neck. “i’ve been waiting for you baby.”

he caresses your cheek, “didn’t you say you had a room for me too? c’mon princess, let’s go somewhere a lot less crowded.” you take his hand and lead him to the hall of private rooms downstairs, opening the second to last one, revealing a soft, golden lit room - the furniture basked in a champagne hue, and the stage decorated in a chrome, slick black.

“welcome to the champagne room, seungcheol!” you exclaim walking him in, cheol making sure the door was closed behind you. he whistles in amazement - the two of you have been in a share of private rooms in illusion, but this is the first time he’s been in a room as decorated as this.

“a change of pace i see,” he says walking towards the center chair, taking a seat on the cushions. “why the new setting princess?” he asks, running his hand behind his hair, unintentionally making you clench with how his muscles flexed.

you sultrily saunter toward him, making sure he could see all of you, making him crave for more of you. without another word, you gingerly sit on his lap, lacing your arm around his neck. “i actually wanna try something new with you, cheol,” you sheepishly smile, looking down at his chest, fingers starting to play with the necklace he was wearing.

“we’ve done so many things in these four walls, but the one thing i haven’t done yet is give you head in the private rooms.. which is crazy now that i’ve think about it,” you let out a small laugh, mind wandering to all of the dirty things you two have done, from cheol fucking you against the wall, handcuffed to nearly having a threesome. but one of the simplest things you could’ve ever done with cheol - neither of you had acted upon it yet.

“whaddaya say? can i go down on you seungcheol?” you whisper the last few words in his ear, and he groans as he reaches for his pants and his belt, loosening it up without hesitation.

“i’m all yours baby,” he tilts your chin up to look at you. “get this dick wet like only you can.”

——

is this the first time you’ve given head at a strip club? of course not, but it’s never felt as good as tonight. you’ve seen and felt seungcheol’s dick several times, knowing he was big. but you still weren’t prepared for the feeling of bliss having him deep inside your throat.

“that’s it baby, take some more in,” he guides your head, bobbing it up and down his length, making sure your pacing wasn’t going too fast. he wanted to savor you for as long as he could.

the tip of his dick was hitting the back of your throat, and it felt so good that you felt tears might prick your eyes. you moan around him, taking it a bit faster, and he groans loudly, head tilting backward, hands roaming your hair.

“fuck.. baby, keep taking me… mmm, just like that,” he breathlessly smiles at you and you feel you immediately clench, your panties getting even wetter. you speed up your pace for the final time, and not even a minute later, he cums into your mouth, and you don’t hesitate to swallow everything he gives you.

you lick your lips and open your mouth to let him know you’ve finished, and he kisses you again, your tongue fighting for dominance as you stand up and sit in his lap. he undoes your bra as it falls onto his lap and you begin to feel his length on your panty covered crotch.

“mmm, you just can’t enough of me, can’t you cheol?” you giggle, maneuvering your fingers to pull your panties to the side. “got you so rock hard that the only thing you can think of is me, huh? you’re so down bad,” you fully sink down on him and you both moan out loud, adoring the way how both of you feel on each other.

he grabs a handful of your ass and starts groping at the skin, to which you respond by grinding down on cheol, tits slowly beginning to bounce as you established a rhythm.

“okay, so i am down bad, but what about you princess? i bet your panties got wet the second you laid eyes on me tonight,” he says planting a smack on your ass, not too hard, but definitely not soft either. “but then again, when do you not get wet when you’re around me? always so needy for me, my baby. but you’re so patient and so ready,” he begins to kiss down your chest, reaching your breasts.

“fuck- don’t stop talking, please keep going!” you moan again as you both start to speed up the pace. “i-i don’t think i’ve told you this but, i love your voice, cheol.. it melts me like butter, ah!” you exclaim as he envelops one of your nipples in his mouth, pushing his head in further so he could take more of you.

at this point, you were now fully bouncing in his lap, his hands bringing you in closer, making sure you both were body to body, as close as you could be.

“feels so good my princess, fuck yeah, keep bouncing on me like that. doing such a good job for me, pretty girl,” he can’t help but revel in your glow, the faces you’re making, and how you're riding him - he knew you weren’t too far off, and he was getting close too.

as you keep grinding down on him the coil in your belly continues to tighten, and when you finally feel it break, you can’t even give seungcheol so much as a warning when you come all over the lower half of his body.

“holy shit,” you breathe out, trying to compose yourself after the amazing orgasm you just experienced. “cheol, holy shit, you’re amazing,” you chuckle at him and smiles back at you, giving you little pecks around your face.

“nah, that’s all you, princess, no one can do me the way you do.” he stares at you lovingly and you try not to let the blush creep up your face.

——

after a few minutes go by, you both begin to put your clothes back on and you across the room for your bra top. as you bend over to get it, cheol whistles, mentally groaning at how full and pretty your ass looks from far.

“damn princess, have you been working out?” he asks coming closer, giving another smack to your cheek one more time, then putting a few bills in between the strings. you put on your bra, making sure it was decently tight.

“a little bit… you like?”

“like? more so love,” he grabs you by the waist, back flush against his body. his hands stay there, going up and down to every inch of skin. you start to sway your hips, seeing if you could get him hard again.

“ah ah,” he whispers in your ear, licking your earlobe. “don’t start anything you cant finish, sweetheart.”

“i could say the same for you, cheol,” you snake your hands up to caress his face. “but don’t you love that about me baby? when i get started, it’ll be an experience you’ll never ever forget.”

and he’ll admit it - you were right. you are addicting, irresistible, a flame that continues to burn in his heart - his forever pole princess.

[thechaoticdruid]

~My Tav for roleplay and story purposes~

Name: Winnie (Winnifred)

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Class: Druid (Her favorite form being the direwolf. I also like to imagine she has some doggy-like characteristics because of it lol), she's also multi-classing as a wizard for reasons.

Age: 23

Race: Human

Hair: Reddish brown

Eyes: Pink

Height: 5'3

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral (With a bit of a good lean I suppose)

Love interest: Astarion

Backstory: Winnifred was raised deep in a hidden forest village, amongst her fellow druids. Her grandmother was the archdruid of their circle and took to raising her after Winnie's parents went missing (aka the likely died horribly on an adventure.) Winnie lived a peaceful, but boring life in the village for thirteen years until eventually it was raided by goblins and everyone she'd known and loved was slaughtered before her very eyes. Winnie was captured by the horde's leader, a strange drow wizard who only allowed her to live because he thought she'd be the perfect test subject for his 'experiments'. She never learned his name, but since the event his face has haunted her nightmares. Winnie remained his lab rat for weeks following the raid. Eventually however her suffering came to an end when a band of adventurers came to her rescue. Apparently they were old friends of the family though she had never once met any of them. They freed her from the prison she'd been held in before setting fire to the goblins camp, killing every last one of the circle's murderers....Well all except for the drow...

Sometime after that Winnie was taken in by Arva, a half elf who just so happened to be the leader of her rescuers. She brought Winnie back to her group's hideout in Baldur's Gate's under city and for ten years Winnie learned how to survive on the streets, using some not so heroic skills Arva had taught her....

•Just stuff about Winnie•

Winnie is weird.

She rarely takes anything seriously and will usually use humor as a way to keep herself sane as she puts it.

She's definitely not a saint but there are some big no nos for her when it comes to morals. No harming innocents, children, or animals.

Self righteous rich tits can suck it tho

"Think you can just spit on me? Huh!? I'll bite your fucking ankles!"

Winnie is an insomniac with permanent raccoon eyes. Shh...don't say anything she gets self conscious!

She has really low self esteem when it comes to her appearance.

Growing up all the other children in her village used to call her ugly a lot. Pretty much all of them aside from a gnome child named Demi.

Winnie liked Demi. Demi used to call her tall.

Winnie isn't particularly romantically experienced. Mostly due to her low self esteem and urge to faint or run away screaming when around someone she finds attractive.

Astarion is her first everything really.

Moving on from that Winnie has a bit of an obsession with cheese. It's like her favorite thing ever.

If you have any she will steal it.

Her handwriting is awful.

She has a habit of pretending to be dumber than she actually is to throw people off.

She identifies herself as being interested in men exclusively, but if I'm honest she does have a bicurious streak.

Mostly because Karlach once asked her what she would do if Astarion was a girl.

Karlach is like her best friend, but don't tell Star he'll get jealous. Shhh...

Has a little plant in a small pot that she affectionately calls Vern.

Currently writing erotic Bloodweave fanfiction titled 'Blood Mage' as a side job to afford Astarion's costly wardrobe. Shhh.... don't tell Gale.

Likes to draw exaggerated doodles in her journal a lot. Usually illustrating important events in her life.

She often dwells on something she remembered one of the older druids saying before the raid. The elder druid described Winnie as "a weed amongst the flowers."

Winnie used to flip the old lady off behind her back all the time.

Will probably be updated and expanded on. Feel free to ask questions. I might make a separate one of these for my Durge .

IMPORTANT: While I am open to doing a little roleplay here and there I'm only doing it with users above the age of 18. Anyone without their age on their blog will be blocked or ignored. Also I'm not comfortable roleplaying the canon characters at this time so don't ask please.

[ridiasfangirlings]

Was discussing with someone about how Saruhiko would act being high and they mentioned silly things like "what if he becomes too honest and clingy", he could probably act like that when he's sober lol.

But I take these as a dark turn because I think he'd have a real bad trip, I think he'd probably hallucinate even more severely to the point of disconnecting to reality. I'd feel really bad for him... just a hc tho.

I could absolutely see Fushimi having a really bad trip in the worst way, his luck is like that. I feel like Fushimi wouldn’t be the type to take drugs thinking they’ll make things better for him anyway, like if anyone tells him ‘this will make you feel good’ he just scoffs because feeling good is for losers. Maybe he does take some one day though, possibly even on accident — like imagine when he’s in Homra say he gets dragged to a party by Yata and some of the Homra guys have like weed brownies or edibles lying around. Yata’s told in no uncertain terms not to touch them and he gets all indignant while everyone’s laughing because imagine Yata running around high. They don’t really think to say anything to Fushimi, who’s already wandered off to find himself a corner where he can sulk until everyone forgets he’s there and then he can slip out before anyone notices (probably glumly thinking that Yata won’t notice anyway). The Homra guys all think Yata will tell Fushimi and anyway Fushimi doesn’t usually eat much at parties. As such no one really notices that Fushimi’s hunched by the buffet all night, eating because it keeps him from having to talk.

At some point he’s starting to feel unwell and hazy, kinda detached from everything going on. As he’s wondering if he should find Yata he overhears someone talking about the drugged food and Fushimi’s face twists in disgust, like why would you even have that out to serve to people, idiots. He doesn’t want to tell Yata that he’s taken all these drugs though, feeling like an idiot for sitting here eating and anyway it’s not like Misaki would care. Fushimi decides he can get home on his own and quietly leaves the party, thinking if he can just get back to the apartment he’ll sleep it off. As he steps out into the night air he feels someone whisper in his ear ‘Are you sure you’re all right, little monkey~’. Fushimi immediately whirls, throwing a knife without even hesitating, and the knife just clatters uselessly against a wall because no one’s there. Fushimi's breathing hard now and he tells himself it’s just the stupid drugs, no one is there, that man is dead and he’s just hallucinating because he’s high.

He continues trying to walk home and the whole way he keeps hearing Niki’s laugh, jumping at every movement and thinking he sees things lurking in the shadows. It’s late so there aren’t many people on the street and imagine they all avoid him because he’s clearly messed up, jumping like he’s been hit when anyone so much as brushes his shoulder. The whole time Fushimi’s tattoo feels like it’s on fire too, he keeps scratching at it mindlessly and wondering if it’s going to burn him alive from inside out, that maybe the power finally figured out he isn’t suited for it and now it’s going to burn him the way it should have all along. It starts to rain and he has this feeling like he’s in a glass cage and someone’s pouring gasoline on him, and if he doesn’t run home fast enough he’ll be set on fire. He finally reaches the apartment and collapses on the floor because it seems like all the furniture is gone, because Misaki left and he’s all by himself now.

Yata finds him lying on the floor a few hours later and possibly there’s some vomit involved. When Yata tries to talk to him Fushimi is incoherent, acting like Yata’s a ghost attacking him. Yata does eventually manage to understand that Fushimi had something at the party and he’s like shit this is bad. I imagine he calls Kusanagi in something of a panic and ends up spending all night watching over Fushimi to be sure he’s okay while the drugs work their way through his system (they would like to take him to the hospital but Kusanagi figures that will lead to questions that they don’t want to answer, and whatever Homra guy took them to the party is getting such a lecture). Afterward when he’s finally back to himself Fushimi claims he just felt sick and complains about idiots leaving drugs where anyone can get them. Some of the Homra guys wonder if Fushimi was just tripping out but Yata’s like no I think he just didn’t feel well, and Fushimi sits there in silence scratching at his tattoo.

[the-dance-of-italy]

Ok you all asked for it:

(Well one person did so far)

For all porpouses, im naming mine The Last Testament or TLT, and it's something if a reincarnation AU.

anyway, here's the ideas/HCs or whatever:

Jésus 🇵🇸 🇲🇽:[Still woking on Him]

-One of his parents is a refugee from Palestine into Mexico (Im respecting that fact abt him on account of the aprox. 13,000 refugees living in Mexico) (Haven't decided who tho, probably Miriam)

-Lives in Mexico City...kinda. Isn't really from there. (will elaborate later).

-Has a Pitbull he rescued named Angel

-Likes cumbias, bolero and regional. Is neutral abt banda. Hates corridos. (Music genres)

-Trans FTM and AceAro.

-Works at his parents artisan shop making traditional crafts based on both cultures.

-Went to college for psychology, then dropped out almost two semesters before graduating.

-Autistic and has ADHD. -Artisan / Gaphic Designer. Went to college for political studies and psychology, but dopped out. -Does Gaffiti with Tadeo and Juan often. -Meeting the guy who's supposd to be the antichrist is like a doppelganger sitation for him. -Meets his heavenly parent during a weed trip.

Tadeo (Thaddeus) 🇲🇽: [Woking on him]

-Also lives in Mexico City.

-Has worked both as a taxi driver and as a microbus driver.

-Is a Chivas fan (football soccer team).

-Obv believes quesadillas don't have to contain cheese in them. [Wrong, but he's from the capital so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯].

- Definitely has gotten into heated arguments with Jesús abt it.

- Loves cumbias and rap. Doesn't like banda too much. Hates corridos of all types.

- Definitely a cholo. -Owns a volkswagen beetle. -Has a torta and taco food stand.

Simon P 🇰🇷🇬🇷 (lives in 🇺🇸):

-Works as a butcher or has a fish shop (haven't decided)

-Didn't go to college because he had a child at 19 (almost after highschool graduation. He did love his wife very much despite marrying so young and both still inmature then.

-Becomes a widower after she dies in a fire.

-They had 3 kids that he is left alone to raise.

-Currently 28 y/o and third eldest of the group.

-Very conservative until his eldest child tried to come out to him as trans. Didn't go well at first, with him believing someone put ideas in their head.

-Meets Jesús in a forum online asking fo help about his kid. J' is the one who knocks some sense into him.

Andrew 🇬🇷🇰🇷 (Lives in 🇺🇸):[Still woking on Him]

-23 y/o studying to become an obstetrician, since their mother died giving birth to him, due to a doctor's malpractice.

-Learned about reproductive rights after meeting Juan and Jesús in a forum.

-Closeted gay because of Simon.

Felipe (Philip) 🇪🇸:[Woking on him]

-Runs a bakery with his family in Barcelona. -Besties with Nathaniel

Nathaniel Bartholomew 🇵🇭:[Woking on him]

-Neurologist -Meets Felipe in Spain after going to study abroad there

Thomas 🇮🇳 (Lives in 🇺🇸) : [Woking on him]

- Architect. -Is studying abroad in LA -Has a drug addiction problem - Meeting Jay makes it slightly worse. -His best friend is Lil' James.

Mateo (Matthew) 🇨🇱 (Lives in 🇺🇸): [Woking on him]

-Autistic

-Used to work in border patrol.

'Zi' (Simon Zee) 🇧🇷: [Woking on him]

- They all call him that on account of his name being Simon and the zi in Brazil. -Has Vitiligo

Mary (Magdalene) 🇦🇫🇺🇲: [working on her]

- Drag queen or Trans Woman (Haven't decided, fuck it, why not both)

- Parents disowned her after coming out and kicked her out at 16 y/o.

-Became friends with Jay after meeting him at a shelter. Worked odd jobs with him until they could afford an apartment together.

-Works in the same bar as him.

Jay (Judas)🇪🇬🇺🇸: [Woking on him]

-Went to college for political studies, dropped one semester before graduation and switched to psychology. Dropped two semesters in and switched to Art.

-Has a black cat named Baphy. (Yep, edgy motherfucker.)

-Works at a local gay bar near his neighborhood.

-His parents disowned him after he came out as Gay. Later he discovered he's Pansexual.

-Used to be a sex worker. Sometimes still does it even though he doesn't need to anymore.

- Listens to 80's and 90's music the most. Likes MJ, Bowie, Twisted Sister, Queen, ABBA and Elton John... -Doesn't know what to do with his life -Puts others peoples needs before his own. Cant say no to others. -Great at math, good at administrating money. Actually ends up buying the bar he worked at (with illicit money).

L. James 🇺🇸: [Woking on him]

-Is a Oncologist.

Sean (John) 🇮🇪 : [Woking on him] -Immature -Doesn't know what to do with his life. -younger brother. -Does mostly wheatpaste and sticker art

B. James🇮🇪: [Woking on him] -Punk -Friends call him Jay. Closest friends call him shaggy. -Always starting ending fights with the police -Has moderate alcoholism. -Does gaffiti and wheatpaste.

Juan (John TB) 🇵🇷 🇲🇽: [Still woking on him]

-Obv. Jesús' cousin.

- Left home to backpack travel around Latin America [refuses to go to Europe or the United States, but would love to visit Asia and Africa. Terrified of Australia.]

-Has dreadlocks and they're incredibly well taken care of despite traveling without much rest.

-Meets Andrew and Felipe during a spring break vacation in Colombia. (Already knew Andrew through the forum but didn't know it was him until they met there).

-Vegan probably. -Get's kidnapped by a cartel after messing someone's bussiness. He get's brutaly murdered afterwards by them to get rid of him. Eleazar (Lazarus) 🇺🇸/?? : ryu -Has and incurable illness. -Is always hospitalized, if he's dispached for a while, he's in a wheelchair.

[cowboybrunch]

:3 soooo I have this sudden burning need to know everything you can tell me about Rosalie before your wrists give out. Can I trouble you for an infodump? Her tagged posts are great but I want to crack her open like a coconut.

i would LOVE to infodump about her!!! thank you for the ask!!! <3

let's start with some fun facts:

she's actually my oldest oc! in the original ORIGINAL draft of botrd (which was never completed and 80% of it was scrapped) the entire thing was in her pov! the story was more focused on her journey through grief

of all of the women in the story, she is the least violent and most soft-spoken (though she does have her moments) but this doesn't make her weak. i love a "badass female mc" as much as the next person but i really wanted her to highlight a quieter form of strength

her backstory:

her mother died in a freak accident car crash while she was in the car on their way to her grandparents' house. she was around 10 years old at this point. in the original draft, she has recurring nightmares about this moment (a defunct excerpt):

Goosebumps raised on her arms, and she opened her eyes to see dark clouds rolling towards them. She tried to speak, but the sound caught in her throat. Despite the windows being down, she couldn’t get enough air. Suddenly, it was pouring rain, the water soaking her clothes and the space on the seat that her body didn’t cover. Her mom kept driving, kept singing as if nothing had changed.

fast forwarding to the events of the current draft (switched to first person present tense), we begin with another death: her best friend Andrew

“Do you believe in ghosts?” I would ask him. “Do you believe in God? Do you think we’ll be okay?” Yes, no, maybe. He would never hesitate to answer, never tell me that I was being silly or that I should worry less. He would ask me, “Do you believe in parallel universes? Do you believe in aliens? Do you ever want to run away?” No, yes, maybe.

since she's been so "involved with death," she has the unique ability to sense Mortae when others can't— meaning she can see them when she shouldn't be able to, and her ears ring when they're communicating telepathically

“I don’t know why you can see me. You’re not meant to. I didn’t do anything to the camera. It caught what was visible, and I was not— am not visible."

That awful high-pitched noise sounds in my ears, louder this time, and it’s all I can do not to throw my hands over them. I do not want to add tinnitus to my growing list of unsolvable problems.

aaaand some rapid fire info about her

callsign "sacrificial lamb"

loves rom-coms

has debilitating insomnia

inquisitive, kind (most of the time, she tries her best), stubborn

first chapter in her pov is called "It's not a superstition if it's true"

her self-doubt puts her in many sticky situations. she needs to trust her gut!!!

favorite flower is daffodils (even tho they're technically a weed) because she likes knowing what people would wish for

biggest fear: being a stranger to the people she loves

she really is just a girl trying to heal and learn to live with grief, and she gets roped into this eternal war between Death and Theodore and becomes a catalyst for his ascension... justice for Rosalie!!!

taglist! (ask to be +/-)

@vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @fortunatetragedy @autism-purgatory @rosesonneptune @cartoonghosts

@dyrewrites @whoevenknowswhatimwriting

[circumlocutive]

I live in an apartment now but I miss how well structured my dad's place was for house parties. First off it was super rural, so few neighbors to complain and plenty of dirt to park cars on (no fighting for parking like now in LA). The basement was where dare or dare (or other nudity involving games), beer pong type games (read: messy), and loud music/dancing go (muffled by being underground). First floor was quieter but still bustling with a lot of food on the counter and people smoking on the covered porch and hanging out in the yard/trees by a fire, with my dad grilling/drinking beer/smoking weed nearby. Folks could play Stump or jump the fire or what have you. Second floor rooms were the actual quiet darker space where you could go if you were overstimulated or anxious or tryna hook up with someone (tho eventually the rule became no fighting or fucking indoors) (I didn't like people getting messy in my bed but it's not my business what you do in the woods) (or ig my driveway if it's dark enough) (shout out to my turbo virgin German bioengineering friend who ate pussy for the first time in his car in my gravel driveway with my other friend he met during the yearly party!)

And then we had a ton of space for air beds for people who stayed the night. I collected blankets and pillows so we usually had some to go around. And we weren't too far from mom and pop breakfast diners, so I could take the hungover guests out in a mob the next morning to seek sustenance :3

[fineline2005]

1

a/n: Welcome to the addiction series!! this is my first ever serious post lmao, so please take it lightly. give me ur honest opinions tho! i hope you guys like it <3

this story is placed around the time harry got mugged on the street, but im changing some thing! he is also still dating olivia in the begining of this story so if that bother you im sorry. but that will change, just be patient my children....

famous!harry x plus size!normal oc

1.9k words (i promise i will try to make them longer lol)

the one where harry meets meg, but not in a way you would expect....

content warnings: mugging, talks of knives, talks of drugs and alchol, talks of being cross faded. i think thats it but let me know if there is anything else!!! this is an 18+ story!!! i cant stop you from doing it but please, viewer descretion is advised!!!!

part one, megs pov:

"damn, your crossed as fuck." pepper said laughing. i couldn't really feel it but i knew she was right. at this point im so use to the feelig that i cant even tell the difference. aside from the alchol i had taken a couple of things that were past around and somked a bit of weed. i wouldn't say i'm the 'highest iv'e ever been' but im definietly i in no state of mind to be driving. thank fully med had driven me her, as she was D.D tonight.

i was starting to get really hot. i knew that as soon as i felt that fire start to creep up my spine it was time for me to tap out from everything for the night. i passed the joint in my hands to the person on my right with out even remembering who it was. i picked myself off the couch and make a b-line for the front door, but not without pepper noticing me.

i feel someone follow me and i assume that it pepper. i turn around and see my assumtions are correct.

"hey, you ok?" she asks. i nod a brush it off, but at this point in our friendship there is nothing i could hide from her. physical or emotional. "tell me the truth meg." she says giving me her famous stare of truth, as we walk to a place more private.

"yeah, just having that feeling again." i dont need to explain more. she gives me a knowing look understanding what i'm talking about the minute i say it. she had a worried look on her face and sits there thinking about what to say next.

"maybe you should go home. do you need a ride?" i know she hasn't been drinking and it would probably be safer to drive with her, rather than walk the streets alone in LA at 1am, but i saw her talking with cassie (who she's been crushing on for month.) and i dont want her to have to stop something she barly got to start. i shake my head no and tell her that i can walk. she gives me an 'are you sure' look.

"i think it will be good for my head and make the hangover a lot more bearable in the morning. besides, i think tonight will finally be the night you get lucky with cass." i wink at her. she turns red before giving me a nod telling me to text her when i get home. i agree before hugging her and making my way out.

i start my jouney home holding on to the knife in my pocket just to be safe. i don't live in the best part of town, so i have to be ready for anything. i pull out my vape just to calm my nerves. i've always hated walking alone, and being crossed out of my mind wasn't helping.

i walk pretty fast for being in the state im in. as i start getting closer to my nighborhood, i hear some shit going down not far from me. of course its got to be the path i need to go down. i put my head down trying to ignore whatever it is and just get home. i make a lot of rash choices while being this fucked up, and the last thing i need to to go back to jail for the night.

as i get closer, i see a group of short guys surounding a rather tall man. i couldn't tell if this was some kind of drug deal with a skinny king-pin, or if the tall guy was in trouble. i decided to just act like i dont see anthing. the last thing i need tonight was to be dragged into what ever the fuck this was.

as i walk by i see the tall guy pull out a big stack of cash. i don't think i've seen that much moneyin one sitting in my life. i then realize the group of short guys was pointing a knife to him.

they were mugging him.

i may sound like a bad person for saying this, but i think i need that cash more the tall guy and the rest of these idiot. like i said, i make rash and stupid choices when im in this state of mind. so with out think i start to walk faster. i hear the group of me start to ask him for his phone. thats when i decide to take action.

"hey! leave him alone." i shout from about 12 feet away, being way more loud than i intended to. they look at me and start to laugh.

"i suggest you keep walking and turn your pretty head beforw something bad happends to you sweetheart." he says now pointiing his knife at me. the tall guy gives me a look telling me to just run.

i keep walking over there with my slightly bigger knife in my pocket with my hand on it incase i need to pull it out quickly.

"well this 'sweetheart' is perfectly capable of pretecting herself from idiots like you." god i'm so fucking stupid sometimes. i am in not shape to being doing this shit right now.

but the things i do for money are actually ridiculous.

"seriously sweetheart. the last thing i wanna do is use this big scary knife on such a pretty thing like you. so save yourself the trouble and keep walking."

at this point i'm pissed. maybe it was the alchol talking or maybe he was just a sexist pig. but now i had to do something. i chuckle a bit before starting my next sentance.

"you know what's a lot scarier then a 'big scary knife' attached to a 'big scary man'" i ask while stepping closer. he gives me an amussed look before letting me continue.

within 1 second my knife is against his throat and i'm in his face.

"an even bigger knife, with an even scarier girl who really doesn't give a fuck." fear pools into his eyes as he looks down to the knife he is stuck under. i look around the the rest of the guys seeing a look of shock on their faces as well as the tell man in the corner. they all look aroundnot knowing what to do next, conflicted on whether to help their friend, boss, or whhatever he is to them, or to stay where they are not wanting to be the next one under the knife.

"so what's it gonna be? are you going to leave me and this nice gentlemen alone and walk away? or are you going to have a painful reminder of how you got mugged while trying to mug someone. not to metion there is witnesses."

he thinks about it for a bit before he drops his own knife and him and is crew walk away.

good choice.

i look over to the tall, skinny man and see the look on his face of pure disbelief. i could almost laugh if it wasn't for the fact that i'm no better then the men i jusy scared off.

"thank you! thank you so much!" he says with a smile on his face. i grip my knife harder walking up to him slowly.

"don't thank me yet." i mummble before quickly pointing the knife to his stomach. he laughs to himself for a second. before i know it the knife is outo of my hand and on the ground while im being pushed against his chest and restrained.

"you obviously have never done this before, and if you have you are really bad at it" he says luaghing as he picks up and throws me over he shoulder.

thats new...

i laugh finding humor in the situation i put myself in.

"what gave it away." i ask still laughing. he chuckles along before answering. "maybe the fact the you are clearly not sober and aimed the knife at my leg rather then my stomach." if that was his leg then this guy is taller then i thought.

"what's your name?" i ask as we walk aroud with me still on her shoulder, having no idea where we are going. "harry. what's yours?"

"i'll tell you if you put me down." the blood was starting to rush to my head and if were to stay in that position for another 2 minutes i would probably throw up. before i know it i'm on the grown again, losing my balance. i almost fall but he grabs my arms and hold me up until im steady. "meg, my names meg." i say while looking up at him. he has a face i've see before but to be honest, when im thing crossed everyone looks like someone i've seen before.

"do you have a girlfriends harry?" i ask with a suggestive tone in my voice. "yes." he answers immediately, while straightening up his posture.

"good," i drop the tone looking at him seriously. "go home and tell her you love her. you could have died tonight." and with that i start to walk away. after this whole thing my mind is way more clear then when i left the party. now i just want to go to sleep.

"wait!" i hear fast foot steps approaching. i turn around to see him pulling out his wallet and phone. he takes out a couple of $100 bills and unlocks his phone. "i feel like i owe you this for saving me. and i feel like you owe me your number for trying to mug me after." i give him a pointed look feeling like this is some kind of joke and he's trying to mess with me for pulling a fast one on him. "don't you have a girlfriend you are suppose to be telling you love?" he luaghs. "i just want to keep in contact. you seem fun, even if you are a criminal." i smirk and grab his phone entering my number. as i'm doing so i pull out my vape taking a couple of hits before looking up. once i do i see a look on his face telling me he's not super into it. but he's a stranger so i dont really care what he thinks.

"what? you act like half the people in this city dont do this and you've never seen it before." i say before putting it back in my mouth and taking a few more hits. "i mean, i know and i have. its just i know really like it. you know how how bad that stuff is for you, right?"

"its called an addiction for a reason." i say. i had him back his phone. "and on that note, i bid you adieu." i say bowing and copying the accent i picked up on. i walk away and this time he doesnt follow me.

as i walk into my appartment i text pepper to let her know i make it home. i check the clocked to the that its now 3:30am. i didn't realize that much time had gone by. she response asking what took so long and if i was ok. i answer back telling her i'll tell her in the morning when we go on our daily walk-and-talk. something we've been doing since freshman year of highschool.

my head hits my pillow and i knock out almost intantly. deciding that what ever choices i make tonight will be a problem for future meg to deal with.