#i apologize but also i had so many thoughts

[th3mrskory]

Lessons in Desire- Part 2

Pairing: fem!Reader x Professor!Logan

Warning: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, explicit language.

Part 1

Summary: In the classroom, their power dynamics shift, drawing them closer to the edge of what’s acceptable. Caught between desire and the threat of scandal, they push past boundaries, each unable to deny the magnetic pull between them. But with stakes this high, the real question is: how much will they sacrifice for a forbidden passion they can’t control?

Word count: 7.8 k

A/N: Alright, folks, I hear you. Loud and clear. Consider this my formal apology for the emotional torment, the tension, and, yes, the blatant blue-balling of Part 1. I know some of you were ready to throw hands. But fear not—redemption is here. Enjoy.

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

The morning air was crisp, but the moment Y/N stepped into the lecture hall, a slow, suffocating heat curled around her skin.

She knew why.

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag as she moved toward her usual seat, keeping her movements smooth, unbothered. If she hesitated, even for a second, she knew he’d notice. And she refused to give him that satisfaction.

He was already there, of course he was, leaning against his desk, arms crossed in that effortlessly relaxed way of his, watching students filter in like he wasn’t waiting for someone specific.

Like he wasn’t waiting for her.

Y/N did not look at him.

Instead, she pulled out her laptop, her fingers poised over the keys, eyes on the screen as if she were already deep in thought. A buffer. A shield. A blatant avoidance.

She felt him smirk. Didn’t have to look to know it was there.

God, he was insufferable.

The noise in the room settled, conversations dying down as Logan finally straightened, stepping forward with the kind of slow, deliberate ease that had no right being so compelling.

“All right,” he began, voice low and steady, filling the room like it belonged to him. Because it did. “Power and consequence, a delicate balance—one often dictated by impulse rather than reason.”

Y/N exhaled sharply through her nose, already bracing herself.

“In every era, power dictates action. It shapes choices, defines relationships.” Logan’s hands slid into his pockets, his stance casual, his expression unreadable. But his voice—his voice was a loaded gun. “History is littered with stories of rulers and revolutionaries, leaders and subordinates. And in many cases—” his head tilted slightly, “—power is at its most dangerous when both sides refuse to admit what they want.”

A muscle in Y/N’s jaw ticked.

She didn’t shift in her seat. Didn’t move.

She knew what he was doing.

It was the same thing he’d done in their last encounter—teasing, testing, pushing.

He was talking about his syllabus. But he was also talking about them.

“Take Rome, for example.” Logan continued, walking along the front of the classroom, hands still in his pockets. “Julius Caesar consolidates power, and suddenly, the Senate is restless. They don’t trust him. Why?”

Silence.

Logan’s eyes flicked over the class, lingering—too long—when they landed on her.

Y/N refused to look up.

“Because they knew,” he continued, voice dipping slightly, “that once someone has a taste of power, they don’t let it go so easily.”

His words settled heavy in the air.

“And yet,” he went on, “some of the greatest conflicts in history weren’t about power itself.” His gaze swept the room. “They were about control.”

Y/N’s fingers curled into her palm, nails pressing into skin.

A few seats away, a student finally spoke up. “Didn’t power and control kind of go hand in hand?”

Logan’s lips twitched.

“Not always,” he said smoothly. “Power can be taken. Control has to be given.”

A shiver coiled down Y/N’s spine, heat pooling low in her stomach.

And Logan knew it.

His voice had dipped just enough to slip under her skin, just enough to force her to sit with the words—his words. And yet, he didn’t look at her. Not directly.

Instead, his eyes flickered across the room, casual, detached, as if he hadn’t just set fire to her nerve endings and left her to smother the flames on her own.

Another student, oblivious to the tension lacing the air, chimed in. “But doesn’t control imply restraint?”

Logan hummed, tapping his fingers idly against the desk.

“In some cases,” he admitted. “But true control—” he let the words hang for a moment, deliberate, sharp “—is knowing exactly how far you can go before you cross the line.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, her grip tightening around her pen.

 Because that? That wasn’t about Rome.

“Caesar, for example.” Logan pushed off the desk, his movements unhurried, purposeful. “He understood that power was fleeting. He took what he could, pushed where he had to, but in the end?” He paused, tilting his head. “Even he wasn’t immune to the consequences.”

A few students chuckled under their breath.

Y/N didn’t.

Because she knew Logan. Knew how he played these games.

This wasn’t just a history lesson.

It was a reminder.

A reminder of that night, of the way she had let herself slip—just for a moment. The way she had let him touch her, pull her under, take something she had never intended to give.

And now?

Now, she was here, pretending to be unaffected while he stood at the front of the room, speaking in riddles that only she could decipher.

Logan finally glanced her way, just for a second.

Not long enough for anyone else to notice.

But long enough for her to see the flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Long enough for her to realize that he was enjoying this.

Motherfucker

The discussion shifted, students bouncing theories back and forth about leadership, strategy, the fine line between control and collapse.

Y/N forced herself to focus, to stare at the screen of her laptop as though the glowing words of her notes were actually sinking in.

They weren’t.

Not when she could still feel Logan’s gaze grazing her skin like the edge of a blade, deliberate in its absence, cutting in the way he looked everywhere but at her.

A girl two seats down—Emily, maybe?—leaned forward, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “So, Professor, would you say Caesar’s downfall was inevitable?”

Logan leaned against the desk, arms crossed, head tilting as if considering.

“Depends,” he mused. “Was it the betrayal that killed him?” A beat. “Or was it his arrogance?”

His words settled over the room, thoughtful. Almost careless.

But Y/N felt the weight of them like a hand at her throat.

Because that night had been arrogant.

She had known better. She had drawn her lines, kept her distance, resisted every damn pull he had on her. And yet, one moment—one misstep—had changed everything.

And now?

Now she was the one paying for it.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips as she tapped at her keyboard, forcing herself to take notes. She could feel her pulse in her throat, steady and insistent, but she pushed it down, locked it away.

She just had to make it through the next twenty minutes.

Then—mercifully—Logan moved on. The lesson drifted towards logistics, strategy, the mechanics of an empire’s rise and fall.

Y/N let herself breathe.

Until—

“Before we wrap up—” Logan straightened, flipping through a stack of papers before holding them up between two fingers. “Your midterms.”

A few groans rippled through the class. Some students slumped lower in their seats. Others sat up straighter, eyes flickering with expectation.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t graded those.

Her stomach turned slightly.

She had spent the past few days avoiding him—on purpose. Dodging his glances, his emails, taking the long way around campus just to make sure she didn’t have to face him. She had expected him to push back, to try and catch her alone.

But this?

This was unexpected.

She frowned, shifting in her seat as Logan started handing them back, his expression unreadable.

She had aced that exam. She knew she had.

And yet, when Logan finally reached her desk, sliding the paper toward her with an infuriating ease, she felt something cold slither down her spine.

Red ink slashed across the top corner.

C

Her head snapped up.

Logan didn’t stop.

Didn’t look at her.

Didn’t acknowledge her at all as he moved past, handing the next paper to the student behind her.

Her fingers curled around the edges of her midterm, heart hammering against her ribs.

This wasn’t a mistake.

It was a message.

She scoffed, quiet but sharp, barely more than an exhale.

Very well.

This was not going to end here.

She could feel the heat creeping up her spine, pooling low in her stomach—not just from anger, but from something darker, something thrilling.

He wanted to play?

Fine.

She would play.

For the rest of class, Y/N barely moved, barely breathed, fingers gripping the edge of her desk, her jaw locked so tight it ached.

Logan, of course, was unbothered. Completely composed. He carried on as though nothing had happened, as though he hadn’t just tossed a match into an open field and walked away.

She didn’t react. Not then.

But when class ended, when the other students stood, stretching and gathering their things, when she heard Logan dismiss them with a low, even, “See you all next week,”—

She didn’t move.

Didn’t even pretend to pack up.

Instead, she sat perfectly still, one hand smoothing over the graded paper, staring down at the lie written in red ink.

She waited.

Listened.

And when the last of her classmates filtered out, when the door finally clicked shut behind them—

Only then did she rise.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Logan was still at his desk, flipping through papers, pretending to be unaware of her presence.

She took a breath. Stepped forward.

And when she spoke, her voice was sweet. Too sweet.

“You’re awfully generous, Professor.”

Logan didn’t look up.

“Am I?”

She hummed, holding the exam between two fingers, twirling it slightly.

“I mean, a C?” A pause, tilting her head. “You could’ve at least failed me. That would’ve been more convincing.”

That got him.

The edge of Logan’s mouth twitched—just barely, just enough for her to see.

But he still didn’t look up.

“Maybe I went easy on you,” he mused, voice low, dragging as he flipped to another page in his papers. “Maybe I thought you deserved a little mercy.”

Y/N let out a soft, breathy laugh, stepping closer, just enough that she could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched slightly against the desk.

“Mercy?” she echoed. “Is that what you call it?”

Then, because she couldn’t help herself—because he had started this—

She leaned in.

Not enough to touch.

But enough for her next words to slide between them like a blade.

“Seems a little desperate, Professor.”

That got his attention.

Logan’s head finally lifted, darkened eyes locking onto hers, sharp and unreadable.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The air between them crackled.

“I don’t have time for this,” he said, flipping the page in front of him. “I have a meeting.”

Y/N blinked.

For a second, just a second, her breath caught in her throat.

Then, slowly, she smiled. Sharp. Cold.

“Of course you do.”

Y/N lifted her paper slightly, the red mark on it almost taunting.

Then, with a slow smirk, she pressed it against his chest.

“Enjoy your meeting,” she murmured.

And then—before he could say a thing—

She turned and walked out.

******

The restaurant hummed with warmth, a mix of clinking glasses, low conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter rising above the noise. The scent of charred steak, garlic butter, and freshly baked bread filled the air, making the already cozy space feel even richer.

At their table, tucked near the window, the girls were deep into their second—or was it third?—bottle of wine. Plates sat half-empty, dessert forks clinking as they passed around bites of Leah’s birthday cake.

“To another year of surviving this godforsaken institution,” Leah declared, lifting her glass high, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“And looking hot while doing it,” someone added.

“To Leah,” Y/N smirked, clinking her glass against hers.

“To all of us,” Leah corrected. “Because, honestly, we deserve it.”

Laughter rippled through the group. The drinks kept flowing, the conversation weaving between weekend plans, internship gossip, and the ever-evolving drama of their university’s social scene. It was easy, normal.

Y/N leaned into it, letting herself get lost in the rhythm of her friends’ voices, letting herself forget about—

“Oh, speaking of school,” one of the girls piped up, tipping her glass in Y/N’s direction. “How’s the TA life treating you?”

Y/N blinked, the shift in topic jolting her for half a second.

Leah turned to her, lips twitching. “Yeah, how is our dear Professor Howlett?”

Y/N kept her expression even, swirling her wine. “Fine.”

One of the other girls snorted, raising a brow. “That’s it?”

Y/N arched a brow back. “Would you like a full dissertation?”

“No, but I’d like a little more detail,” Leah cut in, leaning forward. “Because, from what I heard—” she paused, grinning like she had something good, “—you’ve fallen from grace.”

Y/N frowned, feigning nonchalance as she took a sip of her drink. “What are you talking about?”

“You tell me.” Leah smirked. “A month ago, you were his golden child. He actually smiled at you. Now?” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “He looks at you like you personally set his car on fire.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she could feel the way they were watching her.

“Oh my God, you totally pissed him off,” another girl cackled.

“I did not,” Y/N said smoothly.

“Uh-huh.”

“No, seriously, what did you do?” Leah pressed.

Y/N tapped her fingers against her wine glass, tilting her head. “Maybe he just finally realized he’s an asshole.”

A few of the girls laughed, but Leah just squinted at her, too perceptive for her own good.

Y/N held her gaze, unfazed.

“Whatever you did,” Leah drawled, sitting back, “he’s been pissed. He even started handing out graded exams himself.”

Y/N stilled, barely a flicker of reaction, but Leah caught it.

Bingo.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about.”

“Leah,” Y/N warned.

“No, no, no. Wait.” Leah grinned like she was piecing together the most delicious gossip of the year. “You’ve been helping him grade for months. And now, all of a sudden, you’re out of a job?” She let out a slow, dramatic gasp. “You did piss him off.”

Y/N rolled her eyes again, sitting back in her chair.

“Oh, babe,” Leah continued, her voice dripping with exaggerated sympathy. “Do you need a new professor to suck up to?”

Y/N smirked, unbothered. “No, but you might, considering your last paper was absolute shit.”

Leah gasped, clutching her chest in mock offense. “I am the victim here.”

“Oh, sure,” Y/N deadpanned.

The conversation carried on, laughter spilling over the table as Leah launched into a dramatic retelling of her latest attempt at flirting with her philosophy TA. Something about eye contact, Nietzsche, and an existential crisis mid-hookup.

Y/N smirked, sipping her drink, letting herself relax into the warmth of the evening. The wine hummed pleasantly in her veins, the weight of everything momentarily pushed to the edges of her mind.

Until Leah, still mid-rant, suddenly froze.

Her eyes flicked past Y/N’s shoulder, widening slightly before she smirked, slow and sharp.

“Well, well,” she murmured, swirling her drink. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Y/N’s fingers tightened around the stem of her glass, the coolness of it grounding her, anchoring her in place. Logan.

Logan, leaning back like he had all the time in the world, one arm draped over the back of the booth, fingers absently rolling his whiskey glass. His body language was relaxed, easy. But his eyes?

His eyes were locked onto hers.

And he wasn’t alone.

The woman across from him was gorgeous, her red-painted lips curved into something lazy, knowing. She leaned in just enough to make a point, her hand brushing against Logan’s forearm as she whispered something in his ear.

Y/N didn’t hear Logan’s response.

She didn’t need to.

She saw the smirk that followed. The tilt of his head. The way his lips parted slightly, like he was amused.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Damn,” Maya murmured, her brows lifting as she took a sip of her drink. “Guess Mr. Howlett’s got a life outside of terrorizing students after all.”

Leah snorted. “And it looks like he’s got good taste.”

Y/N hummed, her expression unreadable, her blood thrumming with something sharp and tight and unbearable.

He was doing it on purpose.

Because, of course, he was.

Y/N refused to look away first.

If he wanted to play this game, fine.

She lifted her glass, taking a slow, deliberate sip, her lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. Then, just as Logan lifted his own glass in some silent, taunting toast—

She turned away.

Didn’t give him the satisfaction.

Leah exhaled, shaking her head. “Must be nice,” she muttered, tipping her glass toward Logan’s date. “Imagine being wined and dined by that.”

Y/N just smiled, feigning boredom, indifference.

But she could still feel his eyes on her.

Still feel the weight of his gaze, burning against the side of her face.

It was subtle—calculated. The way his deep, rough laugh suddenly cut through the restaurant’s hum, just loud enough for her to hear. The way his fingers traced absent circles against the table’s edge, slow, deliberate. The way he leaned in just a fraction closer to the woman across from him, speaking low, lips almost brushing her ear—

Almost.

She let her friends’ conversation wash over her, grounding herself in their presence, their laughter, their easy, carefree energy. She refused to let Logan pull her into whatever game he was playing.

It was almost amusing.

Almost.

Maya gestured to the waiter for another round of drinks, grinning. “Alright, I say we hit a club after this.”

Leah groaned. “I have a quiz tomorrow.”

“And?”

“And I’m not trying to fail.”

“God, you’re so responsible,” Maya sighed, rolling her eyes before turning back to Y/N. “What about you? You coming?”

Y/N took another sip of her drink, letting the question linger before answering, “Why not?”

Logan stiffened.

It was brief, nearly imperceptible. But she caught it.

And so did he.

Y/N turned, meeting his gaze head-on.

His jaw tightened.

Her lips twitched.

And then, as if he was nothing more than a fleeting thought, she rose from her seat, gathering her things.

“Alright,” she said to Maya, tossing a few bills onto the table for the check. “Let’s go.”

She didn’t look back.

She didn’t need to.

Because as she walked away, she felt it—the weight of his stare, the frustration rolling off him in waves, thick and heavy and burning with something he hadn’t quite tamed yet.

Good.

Let him simmer.

******

Logan was late.

A rare thing. An unacceptable thing.

And it was because of his damn car, which decided this morning—of all mornings—that it wasn’t going to start. He’d wasted fifteen minutes trying to fix it himself, another five debating if he should just put his fist through the hood, and another ten waiting for a uber to show up.

Annoyance curled hot in his chest, pressing against his ribs like a vice.

Fine.

It wasn’t the first time the universe threw obstacles in his way.

At least he had someone reliable to handle things.

So as he sat in the back of the uber, Logan pulled out his phone and sent a quick, no-nonsense text.

Tell them I’ll be late. Start the lecture.

Short. Clear. He didn’t need to say more. Y/N would handle it.

Except—

She didn’t.

The second he stepped into the lecture hall, his mood went from bad to worse.

The room was chaos. Conversations rang out unchecked, students still standing, still filing in, notebooks tossed onto desks with all the urgency of a lazy Sunday morning.

Logan’s gaze flicked toward her usual seat.

Empty.

His jaw tightened.

He let the pause stretch, let his frustration settle in his bones, before he strode down the steps to the front of the class.

When he spoke, his voice cut through the noise like a blade.

“Sit.”

The command landed with immediate effect. Conversations died. Chairs scraped against the floor.

A few students exchanged wary glances, picking up on the fact that their professor was in no mood for patience.

Logan set his bag down on the desk a little harder than necessary. The silence stretched, thick and expectant, but he didn’t give them anything—not yet.

Instead, he rolled up his sleeves with slow, deliberate movements, exhaling through his nose before finally speaking.

"Last class, we talked about power. About control.”

He turned to the whiteboard, uncapping a marker, and dragged the words across the surface in sharp, precise strokes.

“Today,” he continued, voice smooth, “we’re shifting to influence.”

Another slow line drawn beneath the word.

“How it’s used. How it’s abused. And—” his voice dipped lower, his gaze cutting through the room— “how those who think they have it often don’t.”

A beat of silence.

Logan let it linger, let the weight of his words settle over the students before he turned back to face them.

“Influence,” he went on, stepping forward, “isn’t about brute strength. It’s not about who yells the loudest or who has the biggest army.”

His hands slipped into his pockets as he paced.

“Real influence is quieter. Subtler. It’s knowing exactly what someone wants—” he tilted his head slightly, “—and deciding whether or not you’re going to give it to them.”

He caught a few students exchanging glances, intrigued.

They had no idea.

Because Logan wasn’t talking about history. Not really.

He was talking about something else entirely.

Something sharp. Something frustrating. Something that had the nerve to not show up today.

Y/N.

His fingers flexed at his sides.

She had never missed a class before. Not once. Not even when she had every reason to.

And yet—here he was, staring at an empty seat.

His grip on the marker tightened as he forced himself to keep going.

"History is full of people who thought they had influence,” he said, dragging his attention back to the class. “People who assumed their power was absolute. That they had control over those beneath them.”

A slow, measured breath.

“But control is a fickle thing.”

He turned back to the whiteboard, scrawling another word beneath Influence.

“Perception.”

“The truth is,” he continued, “most of history’s so-called ‘great leaders’ weren’t actually in control. They were at the mercy of perception. The illusion of power. And illusions—” he capped the marker with an audible click, “—can be shattered.”

A few students scribbled in their notebooks, nodding along. Others sat back, watching him with quiet focus.

But Logan wasn’t watching them.

He was watching the damn clock.

Waiting.

Expecting.

The door never opened.

She never walked in.

His jaw ticked.

Fine.

If she wanted to play games, she’d have to try harder than this.

Logan finished the lecture with practiced ease, but his patience had thinned to a knife’s edge. By the time class ended, he was done pretending.

As students packed up their things, Logan leaned back against his desk, arms crossed, gaze sharp as it swept over the room.

Then his eyes landed on her friend.

She was taking her time, slow in the way only someone deliberately avoiding something could be. Flipping through her notebook, adjusting the strap of her bag—stalling.

Logan wasn’t in the mood for patience.

“Where’s Y/N?”

It wasn’t a casual question, no matter how level his tone was.

The friend stilled for half a second before flicking her eyes up to him. A knowing look. Curious. Wary.

“She didn’t say much last night,” she said eventually, shutting her notebook. “We left the club, and then… she was gone.”

Logan’s jaw ticked.

Gone.

He didn’t like the sound of that.

Didn’t like that they hadn’t seen her after.

Didn’t like the way the friend was looking at him now, sharp and assessing, as if putting pieces together.

“I let her know I’d be late this morning.” His voice was calm, but the words had an edge. A reminder. A fact.

The friend tilted her head, considering him. Then, with something just shy of a smirk, she said, “Guess she had more important things to do.”

A slow exhale through his nose.

Logan held her gaze for a beat longer before pushing off the desk, his movements controlled, precise.

He didn’t respond.

Didn’t need to.

If she was trying to make a point—

Message fucking received.

******

Logan didn’t leave the classroom right away.

He lingered.

The students had cleared out, their chatter fading down the hall, but he stood by the desk, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the empty chair where she should have been.

She hadn’t shown up.

Not for class. Not for him.

His jaw ticked.

The room was still, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights. He exhaled sharply, reaching for his coffee. The cup was empty.

Great.

With a muttered curse, he grabbed his things and strode toward the door. The sound of his own footsteps echoed in the now-empty hallway, steady, controlled.

Controlled.

Power can be taken. Control has to be given.

The words from his own damn lecture slithered back to him, unwanted. He scowled, pushing through the building’s heavy front doors and stepping outside. The air had cooled, the lingering heat of the day fading into a crisp breeze.

He barely noticed.

His mind kept circling back to her absence, to the night before. To the moment she had downed her drink, barely even looking at him as she walked away.

She knew he saw her. She knew he was watching.

And yet she hadn’t given him the satisfaction of even a reaction.

His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag as he made his way across campus, past clusters of students, past the coffee cart where she sometimes stopped between classes.

The cup he usually found sitting on his desk—her order, slid across with an offhand comment about him needing it more than her—hadn’t been there today.

It was nothing.

So why the fuck did it feel like something?

By the time he reached his office, his patience was worn thin. The door swung shut behind him with a quiet thud, and he dropped his things onto the desk, rolling his shoulders back.

A heavy exhale.

He should be grading. Preparing for the next lecture.

Instead, he reached for his phone.

No messages.

Nothing.

His jaw clenched.

Fine.

He leaned back, rubbing a hand along his jaw before pulling out a test paper—the one she should’ve been helping him grade. The one he had deliberately marked lower than it deserved, just to watch her reaction.

Except there hadn’t been one.

He scoffed under his breath, tossing the paper aside.

This is ridiculous.

His gaze flickered to his laptop, fingers already moving before he fully decided.

If she wouldn’t come to him—

Maybe it was time he sent for her.

Logan wasn’t the type to chase.

Not students. Not women. Not anyone.

And yet—

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, the email cursor blinking like it was mocking him.

Subject: Need Your Assistance

Y/N,

I need help reviewing the material for next week’s class. See me in my office in an hour.

He stared at it, jaw tight, his other hand gripping the armrest of his chair.

It was a weak excuse. He knew it. She would know it.

But it was better than nothing.

With a quiet exhale, he hit send—and sat back, arms crossed, waiting.

One hour.

Two.

Nothing.

He scowled, checking his inbox again like the email would magically appear.

His hand moved to his phone before he could think better of it.

She had never ignored him before. Not really. Not like this.

He tapped her contact. Called.

No answer.

Logan exhaled through his nose, setting the phone down with more force than necessary.

Fuck this.

She wanted to play games?

He pushed back from his desk, grabbed his keys, and left without another thought.

Why did this bother him so much?

Was it the fact that she had ignored his email? His call?

Or was it the way she had walked out of that restaurant without a second glance—without giving him the satisfaction of a reaction?

His fingers curled around the steering wheel.

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was that he was done waiting.

******

The hallway was quiet, the fluorescent lights above buzzing faintly. Logan exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders back as he knocked. Once. Twice.

A pause. Then, soft footsteps on the other side of the door.

When it finally opened—

He didn’t know what he was expecting.

But it sure as hell wasn’t this.

Y/N stood there looking… put together.

Not sick. Not disheveled from a long night. Not the wreck he had pictured, curled up in bed nursing a hangover.

No.

She looked like she had just come from a class—not his, obviously, but somewhere.

Somewhere else.

His fingers curled slightly against his palm.

Her brows furrowed just a little, eyes flickering over his face. Like she wasn’t expecting him.

“…Professor?”

Logan exhaled sharply through his nose. “You didn’t show up.”

Y/N blinked, adjusting her bag strap. “I know.”

His jaw tightened. She wasn’t even offering an excuse. No flimsy I wasn’t feeling well, no Sorry, I lost track of time.

Just—I know.

He stared at her for a beat before tilting his head. “You’re my TA.”

She nodded. “I’m aware.”

Logan let a slow exhale drag through his teeth. “Then you should also be aware that skipping your job isn’t an option.”

Y/N’s expression remained infuriatingly unreadable. “I’ll make up the hours.”

He huffed a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Not how it works, sweetheart.”

Something flickered in her eyes at that—something sharp—but she didn’t take the bait.

Instead, she lifted a brow, crossing her arms. “Would you like me to submit an official apology?”

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line.

She was playing with him.

“I’d like you to do your damn job,” he said evenly.

Silence.

She held his gaze, unwavering.

Then, slowly, she leaned against the doorframe, tilting her head. “You’re upset.”

His fingers twitched. “I’m annoyed.”

“Because I missed class?”

His jaw clenched.

Yes. No. Maybe.

Logan inhaled deeply, steadying himself. “Because you didn’t even have the decency to let me know.”

Y/N’s expression remained infuriatingly calm. “I didn’t realize I had to report my every move to you.”

Logan stared at her, eyes dark.

That tone. That dismissive little tone.

Like he was just another professor. Like he was someone who could be ignored without consequence.

Like she hadn’t walked away from him last night without a second glance.

His grip on the doorframe tightened.

“Fine,” he said, voice low, smooth. “I’ll just make sure the department knows you’re too busy for this position.”

It was an empty threat. They both knew it.

Still—her brows lifted slightly, like she was finally paying attention.

She exhaled slowly, tilting her head. “I’ll be there next class.”

Logan held her gaze for a second longer.

“Make sure you are.”

They just stood there, neither moving, neither speaking.

Y/N’s fingers curled slightly around the edge of the doorframe, but her expression remained unreadable. Logan’s jaw was tight, his eyes dark, unmoving.

She should’ve closed the door. Should’ve ended this.

But she didn’t.

And neither did he.

The hallway was too quiet, the seconds stretching thin between them. Something unspoken hung in the air, thick and heavy, like a breath held just before a storm.

Then, slowly, Y/N exhaled, tilting her head.

“…Is there something else you wanna say?”

Logan didn’t blink.

Did he?

Maybe.

Maybe he wanted to ask if she had gone to that damn club just to make a point.

Maybe he wanted to say that she should never ignore his calls again.

Maybe he wanted to take a step forward, close the space between them, just to see if she would move.

But he did none of those things.

Instead, Y/N let out a quiet hum, eyes flickering over his face. “Or can we renegotiate my grade?”

Logan’s fingers twitched.

That smart mouth. That fucking attitude.

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Watch it.”

Y/N only lifted a brow.

And for a second, just a fraction of a second, his gaze dropped—to her mouth, to the curve of it, the way her lips almost parted like she had caught the motion and dared him to look again.

But Logan forced his eyes back up, breathing slow through his nose.

“I’ll see you next class,” she said smoothly.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t nod. Didn’t move.Neither of them moved.

Y/N stood there, her chin tipped just slightly, the sharp glint in her eyes something between defiance and amusement. She knew exactly what she was doing. Exactly what kind of fire she was playing with.

And Logan—Logan was this close to forgetting every goddamn rule.

His fingers flexed at his sides, jaw tight, breath slow and measured. The logical part of his mind, the one that still had a grip on reality, told him to leave. Turn around, walk back down that hallway, pretend this conversation had never happened.

But the other part—the part that had spent the last week stewing in frustration, in her absence, in the way she had looked right through him at the restaurant and walked away like he was nothing—wasn’t listening.

His eyes dragged over her, slow, deliberate.

She looked perfect. Effortless. Put together. Like she hadn’t ignored his calls, his emails. Like she hadn’t left him waiting.

That got under his skin more than it should have.

“I’ll see you next class,” she repeated, voice smooth, tilting her head like she was dismissing him.

Logan didn’t fucking move.

Something in the air shifted.

Tension thickened, curling, twisting, stretching taut like a wire about to snap.

She didn’t step back. Didn’t shut the door.

And Logan—Logan didn’t walk away.

Instead, he took a slow step forward.

Just one.

Her breath hitched. Not much. Just a fraction of a second. But he caught it.

His head tilted, studying her.

Waiting.

Daring.

Logan exhaled, slow and steady.

He should go. He should.

His lips parted, but whatever he meant to say—whatever line he still thought he could hold—

It disappeared.

Because Y/N took a step too.

Closer.

Not much, but enough.

Enough that he could smell her perfume, light but intoxicating. Enough that the heat of her skin seemed to seep into him. Enough that her lips—soft, parted, waiting—were just there.

And Logan—Logan wasn’t a man of patience.

Not when it came to her.

His hand moved before he could stop it.

Fingers curling around her wrist, tugging—just slightly, just enough.

And Y/N—Y/N didn’t pull away.

Didn’t protest.

Didn’t do a goddamn thing except look at him, pulse fluttering under his grip, her lips parting as her breath caught—

And that was it.

That was all it took.

His mouth was on hers in a second, rough, desperate, furious, like he had been holding himself back for too long and finally let the dam break.

And fuck, she kissed him back.

She met him, matched him, fingers threading into his hair as she tugged, mouth opening under his like she had been waiting for this just as much as he had.

The heat of her burned.

Logan pressed her back against the doorframe, fingers digging into her waist, tasting the sharp bite of her earlier smirk on his tongue.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft.

It was frustration and tension and a week’s worth of unspoken words spilling between them in gasps and teeth and heat.

And fuck, she wanted.

He could feel it in the way her hands clenched in his shirt, the way her hips tilted toward him without thinking, the way she let out the smallest, breathiest sound against his lips—

A sound that almost made him lose it.

Logan’s mouth crashed against hers like he was done holding back, done pretending this didn’t matter. His hands were already on her, fingers gripping her waist, sliding beneath her sweater to touch bare skin, hot and possessive.

Y/N gasped against his lips, but she didn’t stop him—wouldn’t stop him. Not when she had wanted this just as much.

Not when she had spent nights replaying every look, every touch, every moment he had gotten too close and then pulled away.

Not this time.

Her fingers tangled in his shirt, fisting the fabric as she yanked him closer, drinking in the low, needy sound he made in the back of his throat. His body pressed into hers, hard and unyielding, like he wanted to cage her in completely, like he wanted to remind her exactly who had been in control this whole time.

But she wasn’t about to make this easy for him.

She tugged at his lower lip with her teeth, just enough to make him groan, just enough to push him further, and fuck, she felt the way his fingers dug into her hips in response.

She had never seen him like this.

Never seen him lose control.

And it was intoxicating.

"Shit," Logan growled against her mouth before his lips left hers, dragging hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat. His teeth grazed the delicate skin there, and Y/N sucked in a sharp breath, nails raking over his shoulders.

“You just gonna stand there, professor?” she murmured, breathless, teasing. “Or are you actually gonna—”

Logan lifted her.

Just—effortless, like she weighed nothing, like he was done listening to her mouth. Her back hit the door, her legs wrapping around his waist as his hands slid beneath her thighs, fingers flexing against bare skin.

“I warned you to watch it,” he muttered, voice rough, barely restrained.

Y/N smirked, dragging her fingers up into his hair, tugging just enough to make his jaw clench. “Or what?”

Logan growled.

And then he tore her sweater off.

Just—over her head, tossed somewhere behind them, forgotten the second his hands were back on her, mouth covering every inch of exposed skin.

And Y/N—

Fuck.

She was gone.

She barely had the presence of mind to kick the door shut behind them before Logan was moving, walking them deeper into the room without ever letting her go.

It was desperate. Messy. Clothes lost between touches, gasps swallowed between kisses that grew rougher, hungrier.

By the time they hit the bed, she was already his.

And neither of them had any intention of stopping.

Logan wasn’t gentle.

Didn’t ease into it.

Didn’t give her time to think, to second-guess, to do anything but feel.

Because fuck, he had held back for too long.

His mouth was on her again before she could catch her breath, rough hands roaming, sliding over bare skin like he was starving—like he wanted to commit every inch of her to memory.

Y/N arched beneath him, body humming with something raw and electric as his lips dragged down, down, teeth scraping, tongue soothing—leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

“Logan,” she breathed, fingers fisting in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp.

He groaned, deep and rough, his grip tightening on her hips as he pressed her deeper into the mattress.

She felt him everywhere.

Overpowering. Unyielding. A fucking force of nature.

Her breath hitched when he slid lower, lips teasing, testing, eyes flicking up to meet hers—dark, hungry, wild.

Then he smirked.

And ruined her.

Logan was all rough edges and raw hunger.

No hesitation. No pretense. Just heat.

His mouth was everywhere—dragging down the column of her throat, teeth grazing, lips soothing, hands gripping like he owned her. Like he’d finally snapped that last thread of restraint and was making up for lost time.

Y/N gasped as he pushed her back against the mattress, his weight pressing into her, solid and hot and relentless.

Her shirt was gone before she could blink.

So were his.

He wasn’t gentle when he kissed her—didn’t take his time, didn’t tease. He kissed her like he was trying to consume her, like he wanted to taste every breath she took.

His hands were rough, calloused, dragging over soft skin, fingers tracing, kneading, gripping as he slid lower.

“Fuck,” he muttered against her skin, voice gravelly, thick with something dark and needy.

Y/N barely had time to breathe before his mouth was on her again, trailing down, teeth scraping, tongue flicking—until she was whimpering, fingers tugging at his hair, thighs trembling around his shoulders.

Then he groaned, deep and guttural, hands tightening on her hips as he dragged her closer, mouth hot and wet and sinful against her skin.

“Logan—” Her voice broke, back arching, pleasure coiling tight in her stomach, dizzying and overwhelming.

He didn’t slow down.

Didn’t let up.

Didn’t stop until she was shattering, nails digging into his shoulders, gasping his name like it was the only word she knew.

And when she finally collapsed against the sheets, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths—

He smirked.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?”

Y/N blinked up at him, dazed, lips swollen, body still buzzing.

Then—slowly—she smirked back.

“Oh, I’m just getting started.”

Logan’s eyes darkened.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

And then he was kissing her again—hungry, desperate—like he wasn’t done with her yet.

Because he wasn’t.

Not even close.

Logan didn’t take his time.

Didn’t waste a second.

The moment Y/N smirked up at him, all challenge and temptation, he was on her again—his mouth claiming hers, his hands gripping, sliding, possessive.

She gasped when he flipped them, her thighs straddling his hips, hands braced against his chest. His skin was hot under her fingertips, muscles shifting, tensing—barely restrained strength, coiled and waiting to snap.

She felt the hard press of him against her, thick and heavy through his jeans, and fuck—the way he was looking at her, all dark eyes and barely controlled hunger, like he was going to ruin her—

Her breath hitched.

“You gonna sit there all night?” Logan drawled, voice low, rough. His hands settled on her hips, fingers digging in just enough to make her feel it. “Or are you finally done playin’ games?”

Y/N tilted her head, nails dragging down his chest, slow and teasing.

“You’re the one who showed up at my door, Professor.”

Logan exhaled sharply through his nose, something dangerous flashing in his gaze.

“Yeah,” he muttered, flipping them again until she was under him, caged in, no escape. “And look where that got us.”

Then his mouth was on her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breast, tongue flicking over a peaked nipple, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, nails scraping, and he groaned, pressing his hips into hers, letting her feel exactly what she was doing to him.

“Logan—”

Her voice broke, pleasure coiling tight, anticipation thrumming under her skin.

Logan lifted his head, gaze locking onto hers—dark, heavy, unreadable.

“Tell me you want this.” His voice was low, rough, but his grip on her waist gentled, thumbs stroking slow circles against her skin. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Y/N stared up at him, heart hammering.

She should say no.

Should tell him this was a mistake.

That this could never happen.

But then he rolled his hips against hers, slow, deliberate—

And she broke.

“Don’t stop.”

Logan cursed under his breath, something in his expression cracking—then he was moving, shedding the last barriers between them, pressing her into the mattress as he lined himself up, the thick head of him teasing her entrance.

Y/N gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, aching for more.

And Logan—

Logan just grinned, sharp and wicked.

“Hope you know what you’re askin’ for, sweetheart.”

Logan buried himself deep, a guttural sound ripping from his throat as Y/N arched beneath him, fingers clawing at his back. Heat coiled tight, sharp and electric, every nerve in her body lighting up as he set a ruthless pace—one that left no room for hesitation, no space for second thoughts.

She gasped, nails biting into his shoulders, but Logan only groaned in response, dragging his teeth over the curve of her throat, sucking a mark into her skin like he wanted to brand himself into her.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice raw, strained. His hands slid beneath her thighs, hitching them higher around his waist, and the shift had her choking on a moan, her body bowing into him.

The smirk that curled his lips was devastating. “That good, huh?”

Y/N barely had the presence of mind to glare. “Shut up.”

Logan fucked her like he was making up for every moment he’d held back. Like he was claiming something that had always been his, something he’d spent too long pretending he didn’t want.

And Y/N—she let him.

Let him grip her thighs, spread her open, thrust deep until she couldn’t do anything but take it, body writhing under him, breath stolen from her lungs.

“Logan—” His name slipped out like a prayer, like a plea, her fingers fisting in his hair, dragging, desperate.

Logan chuckled—dark, low, smug as hell. But the amusement didn’t last. Not when she clenched around him, not when she rolled her hips just enough to have his breath stuttering against her skin. His grip on her tightened, bruising, grounding.

Then he was moving again, relentless, dragging her right to the edge and keeping her there, teasing, playing, testing just how much she could take before she broke.

Y/N’s head tipped back against the pillows, lips parted, breath shaky. “You’re—” She swallowed hard, a moan slipping out before she could stop it. “You’re such an asshole.”

Logan huffed out a laugh, pressing his forehead to hers, breath warm against her lips. “Yeah?” His hips snapped forward, hitting just right, and she gasped, hands fisting in his hair.

The cocky bastard smiled. “Say that again.”

She would’ve. Really. But then his fingers slid between them, pressing against that sweet spot, circling, teasing, relentless—

Y/N shattered.

It tore through her like wildfire, pleasure rolling through her in waves so intense her vision blurred, her body shuddering, nails biting into his back as she clenched around him.

Logan groaned deep in his chest, a curse slipping from his lips as he followed her down, thrusting once, twice—then stilling, his entire body going taut as he came with a sharp, wrecked gasp against her skin.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, the only sound in the room their uneven breaths, the heavy pound of their heartbeats still echoing between them.

Then—slowly, carefully—Logan shifted, rolling onto his side and pulling her with him, his arm heavy around her waist, grounding her.

Y/N swallowed, still catching her breath, and when she glanced up, Logan was already watching her—eyes dark, unreadable.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t smirk, didn’t gloat, didn’t try to fill the silence with something meaningless.

And maybe that was worse.

Because it left room for reality to settle.

For the weight of what they’d done to creep in.

For the dangerous, quiet truth to curl between them, thick as smoke.

Neither of them had any regrets.

And that?

That was fucking dangerous.

© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.

[goldenhourology]

SLACKING OFF.

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f!reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff, coworkers to lovers, friends to lovers

summary: being technologically averse, yet a complete control freak to your core, you tend to annoy senior IT specialist, jeon wonwoo, to no end. but after an apology brings you two closer together, wonwoo finds himself reaching out to you more often than not. on and off slack. despite what you two had originally perceived, you find yourself thrown into feelings that neither of you could've ever prepared for.

warnings: handjobs, fingering, oral (f!recieving), unprotected sex, missionary position, belly bulge, grinding, praise, wonwoo is a service top!!, multiple sex scenes, jerking it in an corporate office bathroom lol, drunk horniness, miscommunication, reader is learning how to open up<3, mutual pining. nsfw (minors / ageless blogs dni).

word count: 19.2k

note: hello new ppl, welcome to the first goldenhourology one shot ✨ I've written things in the past, but this is my first really long one shot. the longer it got, the more I stressed out lol. but I've seen a lot of people do this 20k word one shots, so I thought I'd try my hand at it! also idk much about tech, so if I got anything wrong in this, pls ignore it. thank you to anyone who gives this a read!!

in rotation: picture you, chappell roan / dress, taylor swift / valentine, laufey / diamond boy, sza

Some said your late 20s were the last few years of fun before you fully allowed yourself to be an adult, so why were you always drowning in work?

It didn’t help that you were an executive assistant in one of the biggest software companies in the U.S. When you took the job, surely, you should’ve known that you’d be signing up for an exorbitant amount of work, ranging from invoice management, planning travel for your boss, to even research for senior managers. Despite the constant stress you were under, you liked this job. You liked the trust that your boss had in you. You liked that they let you be independent and figure things out on your own.

And when you couldn’t … you simply contacted IT.

It helped that a senior IT specialist sat right across from your cubicle.

Jeon Wonwoo wasn’t the most talkative cubicle buddy, nor was he the most pleasant. He did his best to give you a smile every once in a while, but he had to fight the urge to throw his head in his hands whenever you send him a message on Slack. You didn’t typically need help with anything, except in the area of tech. You were so organized and incredibly smart – it didn’t take an idiot to see that – but god forbid, sometimes … you could be so technologically averse.

Maybe he just had too many years of schooling under his belt – he was 28 now with both a Bachelors and Masters in Software Engineering – but you surprised him with some of your requests. Sometimes, you’d delete files by accident, need to renew your subscription to important apps, even locked yourself out of your own computer once. He had interns underneath him that could be available to help you, but you had consistently messaged him. And he sat directly across from you. No matter what, it was always going to be Wonwoo that had to help you. Fate had made sure of that.

There were times that you realized you were bothering him. Either you heard him curse from behind his extremely large monitor or he adjusted his glasses so much that you thought he might break them in half. And to be honest, you liked being in control of your own work, so you’d try to find a solution. Typically, solving your own tech problems left your computer in more disarray.

And there was Wonwoo to save the day yet again.

You [10:58 AM]: Morning, Wonwoo!

You [10:58 AM]: I screwed up

You [10:59 AM]: Boss sent me some documents that were password protected, but he’s away for the next two days and not answering his phone

You [10:59 AM]: So I might’ve downloaded some software to help me unlock it and I think it’s attempting to hack my email as we speak

You [11:01 AM]: I’m so so sorry! I didn’t want to bother you

Jeon Wonwoo [11:01 AM]: I’ll be right over.

Luckily for you, Wonwoo was able to fix the problem and stop your email from getting hacked. Whoever was the owner of that virus-filled program you tried to download didn’t gain access to those password-protected documents before Wonwoo secured your computer. But it was close. Too close.

Not only that, but he had a multitude of other projects today. He had to train two new interns … have one of those annual performance reviews with the head of IT … change over a dozen new passwords for people … and then he found out that they’re changing servers. Which meant everything backed up on their former server had to be transferred over to the new one. Fucking great.

He wasn’t sure how many times he sighed today, but it had to be over a hundred. When he couldn’t stand to be sitting anymore, he stood up and paced around the third floor of the building. Today felt like the longest day of his life. And there was a mustard stain on his green sweater vest. And he got a shitty haircut a few days ago. And he probably needed new glasses because he was getting headaches. 

It was time for a coffee. As well as a day off.

Coincidentally, you were also headed to the break room that afternoon in need of a green tea. You were about to walk in when you heard your cubicle mate letting out a frustrated breath while talking to another IT specialist. He was clearly fed up about something, or maybe just tired of this day. You hid next to the doorframe, and just when you thought it was safe to step out, you heard your name fall from his lips.

“I don’t understand how she does it,” Wonwoo complained, hands smacking against his sides. “Seriously, it’s mind boggling. I’m pretty sure she has her Masters in Business Administration, but she does this shit that just makes me … Oh my god, she literally tried to download some faulty software off the internet today, instead of just asking me or someone else for help.” 

“Oh, yeah, everyone wants to turn to you when you got that attitude, man,” someone – Lee Seokmin, maybe? – joked.

“You get what a mean.” Wonwoo watched the first couple drips of shitty office coffee fill his cup. “I was able to save her computer, yeah, but it would be nice to avoid an emergency for a day.”

Seokmin slapped him on the back. “The joys of working in IT.”

You huffed, stalking away from the break room and back to your desk. There was only so much office gossip you could take, especially when it involved you. As soon as you sat down, you finished typing up an email at the loudest volume possible, your fingers basically punching themselves into the keys. You heard Wonwoo slide back into his desk chair, the fresh smell of burnt coffee wafting across to you, and he didn’t say a thing. Not that he would ever know you had eavesdropped. But not a “hello” or “how has computer been after this morning?” He went back to work, burning his tongue on the overly hot liquid.

Maybe Wonwoo was right; maybe you did need to just stop overthinking and ask for help instead of figuring stuff out on your own. Or maybe this asshole needed an attitude check.

You decided to not bother him for the rest of the week, complaining to your friends that Friday night about your shithead of a coworker. They said he might be looking out for you in his own fucked up way. You said he might just be an asshole.

Come Monday morning, you had realized your ignoring hadn’t effected him at all. He still sent you the same small smile as he walked in and sat down across from you. Could he really not see how pissed you are, or had the facade you’d crafted for so long as the perfect corporate employee work too well?

You should just be upfront with him, take control of the situation. Like always. 

You [9:44 AM]: I heard you in the break room a few days ago.

You [9:44 AM]: I just didn’t want to bother you. That’s why I had tried to figure out the issue on my own. Didn’t realize that was a crime

Jeon Wonwoo [9:46 AM]: Crap.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:46 AM]: You weren’t supposed to hear that.

You [9:47 AM]: Well, I did

Jeon Wonwoo [9:50 AM]: Listen.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:50 AM]: Not that it excuses anything, but there’s so much going on at work. It wasn’t all about you. I was complaining just to complain and I didn’t mean any of it.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:50 AM]: I’m sorry.

You [9:51 AM]: Wow

Jeon Wonwoo [9:51 AM]: What?

You [9:51 AM]: You’ve never come across as someone who can apologize well

Jeon Wonwoo [9:52 AM]: Are you sure you aren’t projecting right now? We sit across from each other. I’ve seen how stubborn you are.

You [9:53 AM]: I thought you were apologizing to me????

Jeon Wonwoo [9:56 AM]: I’m sorry. Again.

You [10:01 AM]: Okay, you’re forgiven

Jeon Wonwoo [10:09 AM]: Can I make it up to you with a coffee?

You didn’t go out on dates. The last one you went on was … years ago, probably in undergrad. Once you go for your Masters, all energy to date goes out the window.

Not that this was a date. This certainly was not a date.

This was an apology coffee after work, since the two of you seemed to have an affinity for caffeine at late hours.

Even if, per chance, he thought this was a date … you’d eventually have to let him down easy. It probably wasn’t in your best interest to date someone like Jeon Wonwoo, but you’d also closed yourself off from love for far too long. It wasn’t that you didn’t get lonely – you did, very much, especially on late nights where it was just you and your favorite vibrator – but it was just … scary. Opening yourself up. Losing just a small semblance of control. You weren’t even sure you could physically allow yourself to do that after being alone for so long. 

Your heart had been tucked away so many years ago, locked inside a box, and then in another box, and so on. With the final lock being so complicated that only someone who knew the last four of your social security number could answer. No one was opening up that box. Your heart was safe from the outside world.

You were independent, reliant on only yourself, and you liked it that way.

Once he had gotten both your coffees, he sat down next to you at a hightop table, folding his winter coat over the back of his chair. He had managed to remember your latte order and it tasted perfect. Your eyes flitted up, ogling him for a moment. When you’re not under the fluorescent lights of the office, Wonwoo was … attractive. To say the least. Maybe he always had been and you were too blind to see it. Maybe his face was perpetually hidden by his monitor.

His hair was tousled in the way that it looked effortless, even if he hadn’t brushed it after rolling out of bed. He had a tendency to wear sweater vests with white t-shirts underneath, or button-downs with jeans. But it was only when he showed off his forearms that you realized he was surprisingly built underneath his oversized clothes. He was tall and his shoulders were broad. You liked his glasses too; they always sat on the edge of his nose. A thin line was etched into both lenses, suggesting age, but they framed his face well.

Yeah, you thought to yourself, he is handsome.

“Why are you staring at me?” He asked, knocking you out of your stupor.

You blinked and looked down at your coffee, removing the lid. “Oh, I … uh … good question.”

“Listen,” he started, eyes flickering to his hands, “I’m really sorry about what I said –”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“– And I understand if you want to go to HR about this –”

You shook your head. “Wait, what? Why would I do that?”

He glanced around, until finally, his eyes were on you again. And suddenly, you were wondering if his eyes were dark brown or the color of cinnamon. “Isn’t that what any rational person would do?”

He had you stumped there. If this were a different situation … you probably would do that. “I’m not going to tell HR about this, Wonwoo. You apologized and said you didn’t mean it. I have to trust that.” And you didn’t trust lightly – hardly at all – but something about Wonwoo made you feel like it could be easy with him.

“We all have shit days,” you added, taking a sip of the scalding hot latte. “You have a ton of stuff on your plate. Doesn’t give you an excuse for what you did, but we all say things in the heat of the moment that we don’t mean. I have so many things to organize throughout the day, and sometimes it gets the better of me. Remember when I had book that last minute trip for our CEO and I was on the phone for hours with Delta and Suzanne in finance had the nerve to start bothering me about some invoice? I lost it on her for a straight minute.”

“Oh, my god, yeah,” he chuckled, pinching the bridge of his nose as the memory resurfaced. “Her eyes almost came out of her skull at your reaction. To be fair … Suzanne needs to be knocked down a peg sometimes. She always blames IT when she can’t get into her email, but it’s because she’s constantly typing her password with one letter off.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. Your hand hit the tabletop a few times as you let your workplace personality fade in front of your coworker. “Those new IT interns don’t know what’s coming once Suzanne comes for them,” you joked.

“The IT interns don’t know anything. Period.” He jabbed his finger onto the table. “I mean, they’re interns, but it takes so much time to train them. If I have to teach them JavaScript one more time …”

“Say it, Jeon Wonwoo,” you egged him on, a chuckle filtering at the end. “What will happen if you have to teach those good for nothing interns JavaScript?”

A slow smile made it’s way onto Wonwoo’s face, and … damn, you were actually a really cool person. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “I’ll tell you what will happen …”

Jeon Wonwoo [12:13 PM]: Did you bring lunch today?

Jeon Wonwoo [12:13 PM]: I just found this new cafe down the street and was thinking about grabbing something there in a few. Did you wanna come?

You [12:14 PM]: Do you think they have a chicken salad sandwich on the menu

Jeon Wonwoo [12:15 PM]: I can only assume so?

You [12:15 PM]: SOLD

You both go out for more coffees, before and after work. You found yourself excited to wake up early, to meet up with Wonwoo at the coffee shop located in the lobby of your work building. Always getting there before him, you typically ordered two coffees – remembering his order to a T – and when he walked in five minutes late, he promised to buy the next round. You never let him.

You began planning lunches over Slack, discussing what was on special at that cafe he found last month. In fact, you two talked most of the day on Slack. A message from you had once gotten on his nerves, and now … he was eager for it. Eager to hear your thoughts throughout the day, excited to talk about what new dumb question an intern asked him today or to see more pictures of your grandma’s cats.

And Wonwoo … Wonwoo was easier to get along with than you thought. You just had to peel back the layers before he finally got comfortable, and honestly, you could relate. To be fair, you had a few more layers than he did, but he was slowly learning that you were more than what he perceived. After that first coffee, he realized how funny you were, and then a couple lunches later, he learned you were an avid romance and thriller reader – and nothing in between. It wasn’t until last week that he finally cracked you open enough to learn about your love for Elder Scrolls Online. He was sure you were joking at first, but when you clarified how serious you were, he almost fell off his chair.

“I’m not shocked that you play it,” he said over coffee one morning. “What I’m shocked at is that you’d rather play Elder Scrolls Online and not Skyrim.”

“Of course, you would say that,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I don’t really have an interest in the game universe. I started playing Elder Scrolls Online to relieve stress while applying to colleges, and then I just … didn’t stop.” You shrugged.

Much to his own surprise – even with your take on Skyrim – Wonwoo thoroughly enjoyed your company. It was insane that you both had spent almost two years sitting across from each other before realizing how much you liked each other. Words always left unsaid. Eyes staying glued to computers. It had been a routine for you both that you had never strayed from – until now. So many tech requests over Slack … and now he was actively looking forward to work everyday. To seeing you. To talking with you. 

You.

Jeon Wonwoo realized how much he liked stockings. Specifically, he liked the way you looked in them.

And that’s when things got dangerous.

He started to notice the days you would wear them, and then concluded which day you did laundry. You liked wearing blouses with a pencil skirt and stockings on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. Those were now his favorite days. 

Wednesdays you’d wear dress pants and maybe a sweater, whereas on “Casual Fridays,” you were clad in a t-shirt with a cardigan layered and jeans. You always looked nice at the office, but those stocking days … they were getting to him.

Sometimes, he’d watch the way you walked away from your desk – either to the Boss’ office or to the finance department – and he couldn’t help but let his eyes trail down your legs. You had these stockings that had a slight tear in the back, and he wondered if you realized, or was he just too much of a perverted loser to be the first person to notice? He wanted to purchase a new pair for you. He wanted to replace all your stockings and buy you enough that you could wear them with a skirt everyday, just so he could see you in them.

Maybe he was a loser.

You looked up at him, even in heels, and you had this way of smiling at him that left him questioning why you liked hanging out with him in the first place. His personality couldn’t be that charming to warrant your attention. But you were warm – even when your hands were perpetually cold – and kind, never straying once he was in front of you. And you had this lip gloss that stained your lips magenta and made them shine. Even in the dim fluorescent lights. When his chair turned just slightly and he let his eyes glaze over you, one finger rubbing at his top lip, he couldn’t help but be curious if the gloss had a flavor to it … and then, he’d get distracted by your legs again. And your blouse, and your hair. 

Don’t even get him started on the way you smelled.

Maybe he was a loser. No, he was most definitely a loser. 

It was a Thursday night. Almost 7 PM and you were still at the office. You had plans to go out tonight to celebrate your friend’s new job, but you ended up having to cancel when the Boss placed a stack of paperwork on your desk before leaving the building at promptly 6 o’clock. Why he couldn’t have given you all these invoices and memos hours ago was beyond you, but you weren’t even halfway through this stack and the janitor was now mopping beside you.

When a Slack notification appeared on the side of your monitor, you didn’t even read it before spinning around in your chair. There Wonwoo was, leaning back in his own chair while a progress window ticked on one of his dual monitors. You raised a brow. “I didn’t even hear you over there,” you commented. “Why are you still here?”

“A month or so ago, the IT head told me that we’d soon be transitioning servers, so all of our backups and data need to be transferred over to this new server.” He explained, adjusting his glasses and glancing over at the progress window. It changed from 23% to 24% finished. “Someone had to be the lucky person to stay after hours and make sure it all went smoothly.”

You twirled a pen in your two fingers and crossed your legs. “Oh, that sucks.” Your skirt hiked up a little, and just that small flash of exposed skin had Wonwoo averting his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m assuming you’re still here because of that.” He nodded towards the pile of paper.

“No, no, obviously I love being here after hours with you,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your tone, but it still ignited a short spark of hope within him. (Wonwoo, can you chill the fuck out? He chastised.) “You know the Boss has a penchant for letting invoices pile up. He just so happened to let that pile end up on my desk before he left today. And some of these needed to be filled out …” Your eyes skimmed the first paper on your desk. “Oh, yesterday!”

Wonwoo offered to help you while also keeping watch of his computer – 28% finished – but you insisted you could handle it. “I already bother you enough during work hours,” you said before turning back to your desk. He knew by now that you were simply too stubborn to give up control of the project. Once you had started it yourself, you needed to see it through. He wasn’t sure if you two were close enough that he could be completely honest, that he could tell you that it was fine to let go this independence that you kept on a tight leash. He was willing to help. (God, was he willing.) 

But he chocked it up to telling you once that you were “so fucking stubborn.”

Your reply had come in the form of a swift kick to his knee.

Wonwoo glanced at his monitor. 67% finished.

It was 10 PM and you were just about finished with the paperwork, but you were running on fumes. Just a few memos left and you’d be done. To get you through the next hour, you needed something. So you headed to the break room, suddenly craving some burnt workplace coffee. (What was it about this coffee maker that gave it such a distinct burnt flavor? You’d never know.) After placing the pod of coffee grounds in the slot and filling the water, you pressed the start button, turning around with a huff to see Wonwoo striding into the break room. A crushed, styrofoam coffee cup was clutched in his large hand before he tossed it in the barrel beside you. 

“How’s your transfer going?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. Coffee had started to pour from the machine and into your cup.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s at 88% now. Hopefully should be done in the next hour.”

“Me too, if all goes well.” A sigh escaped your lips. “I still have a few more papers to fill out. Shouldn’t take me more than an hour, but I haven’t looked through them all yet.”

Wonwoo stepped forward, reaching in the direction of the styrofoam cups. “If you had let me help you –”

You tried sidestepping out of the way to give him some room, but his hand brushed against your arm anyway. Your chin tilted up as your eyes met his, back pressing against the counter. “It wouldn’t have helped,” you finished for him.

His arm paused mid-air, and he looked down at you. Eyes narrowing, he replied, “You’re one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met. You have this desperate need to be in control of everything.”

“And why is that a bad thing?” Your tone took a hard edge. The last thing you wanted right now was to put effort into arguing, but you were tired and already on the edge of a breakdown. “I’ve relied on myself for as long as I can remember. I like being in control. I like being stubborn. If I didn’t do most things myself –”

“You ask me to fix something on your computer at least once a day.”

“That’s different.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, and you noticed then just how close he was. Your chests were practically touching. “Sometimes you do try to figure things out yourself and almost break your hard drive.”

His progress window was probably at 93% finished now. He should head back to his desk, but his feet stayed planted right where they were.

“Why does it matter?” You exhaled loud, your hands slapping against your hips. “Do you want an award or something? You have your way of doing things, and I have mine. I’m not perfect, but I … I like things the way they are.” Change is scary, you thought to yourself, but didn’t dare voice it out loud.

He was so close that he could smell your perfume. The scent of lavender mixed with orange blossoms and vanilla filled his nostrils, swirling around his brain. He could get addicted to this smell, to you. Maybe he already was. When his eyes roamed down to your legs and he saw his favorite pair of stockings on you, he damn near collapsed. In fact, he hadn’t even realized the soft groan had left his lips until your gaze found his, your pretty irises growing wide.

You were just so … captivating.

His hands were on both sides of you, pressing your back further into the counter. Your black coffee steaming and fully abandoned in the coffee machine. He was holding himself back, his knuckles going white with restraint. But he wasn’t like you. He could only keep himself in control for so long. And with you here right now, your perfume surrounding him, your stockings-clad thigh brushing against his leg, your a hand placed on his chest … he was a goner.

“Wonwoo,” you whispered, palm still resting on his shirt, “we …”

When your voice trailed off, Wonwoo’s instincts got the better of him. “Please, just …” One hand came up to smooth against your cheek, and he was almost out of breath as he pulled your face to his. “Let me do this.”

He gave you enough time to shove him back, to yell at him, to tell him you didn’t like him in that way. But your neck was craning towards his, and he took that as a sign to crash his lips onto yours. They were softer than he expected, and the taste … your gloss tasted like – well, like nothing. But if he pretended, he could’ve sworn there was a slight cherry aftertaste. His glasses bumped into your nose, but he’d been too overwhelmed to remember to take them off. Mouth moving against yours, his hips crammed you more against the counter, hard enough to leave a bruise on your spine. You didn’t care though. His shoulders were so wide that they shielded you, inviting your body into his, and your fingers fisted into his button-up. Tongues tangled, eager to taste more and more of each other. 

Wonwoo could kiss you forever. You didn’t want him to stop.

But all good things must end. Because when he instinctively placed his leg between yours, he knew this was going too far. Especially because you two were still at work. In the break room.

He instantly removed his leg, his lips breaking from yours. Your eyes connected, the room filled with only the sounds of heavy breathing, before you wiped a trail of spit from your chin.

Wonwoo’s head spun behind him. Thank god, there was no CCTV camera by the coffee maker.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:09 AM]: Good morning.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:09 AM]: I shouldn’t have done that last night.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:10 AM]: Still friends?

You [9:14 AM]: We probably shouldn’t be talking about this on Slack

You [9:15 AM]: Here’s my number: 855-777-0821

You [9:18 AM]: But yes friends :D

Wonwoo did not want to be just friends. But he was utterly terrified of what you would say if he voiced that. You had kissed him back, yes, but … hadn’t you agreed to be friends far too quickly? You had both hung out post-kiss – he liked to call this period of time A.T.K. (after the kiss) – and you didn’t seem to be ruminating on it like he was. Of course, he didn’t know what you were thinking, and you could be so hard to read sometimes when your layers weren’t stripped back enough. But …

Could it really have meant nothing to you?

If that were the case, he didn’t know how it was possible for you. He couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss even if he tried. When he saw you the next day – Friday, January 9, A.T.K. – the first thing he noticed was your lip gloss and all he wanted was to have it smeared over his mouth again. He noticed the way your hair fell over your shoulder, remembering how soft the strands felt when his fingers had slipped between them. He noticed that you were wearing those jeans that hugged your ass just right, and – god, now he was wishing that he had touched more than just your cheek. Wonwoo wanted to touch you everywhere. And vice versa. He didn’t care if your hands were constantly freezing or if they were dry during the winter. He wanted you to touch him however you pleased. He wanted to grab you and kiss you and hold those cold hands in his warm ones –

Oh, my god. He had a boner. At work. Just the mere memory of a kiss had him shifting himself in his pants underneath his desk, hoping no one noticed.

Eventually, he stood up, trying to keep a casual hand over the bulge in his pants as he fast walked to the bathroom. Nobody batted an eye, but you did steal a glance over at him once his back was turned. Your brow raised at the way he was practically sprinting for the elevator, not realizing that he was heading for the second floor restrooms. He must be excited for something. Probably a package, you thought before turning back to your computer.

Wonwoo felt like he could finally breathe once he was inside a stall. He rested his head against the cool tile wall, feeling the ache start to settle in his groin. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way. What 28-year-old gets a boner from a kiss? You had him acting like a goddamn teenager.

What had you done to him? Just one kiss and he was completely under your spell.

(Or maybe he’d been this way all along.)

His fingers fumbled with the zipper on his jeans as he finally pulled himself out of his jeans, stroking from base to tip. Thankfully, no one was in the bathroom. He couldn’t believe his life had come to this. The last thing he ever wanted was to be that guy who jacked off in the bathroom. But you had to wear those goddamn jeans –

Wonwoo wasn’t good at hiding his feelings, but he was doing a pretty good job even as this was killing him inside. He wasn’t like you; he found it hard to restrain himself, to ignore everything that was bubbling up inside him. He could feel himself cracking. What would be the thing that finally broke him?

The answer was simple: alcohol.

Lee Seokmin [11:26 AM]: Dude lol. Why’d you run away from your desk like that

Lee Seokmin [11:26 AM]: I think you could win the Olympics with that kind of sprint!

Jeon Wonwoo [11:39 AM]: Don’t ask.

Lee Seokmin [11:40 AM]: Alrighty then ;)

Lee Seokmin [11:41 AM]: On another note … you free next Thursday? My buddy in the marketing department, Josh, finally has a night off from his kid so we were thinking of getting a group together for drinks after work. Interested?

The last thing you ever expected was to be invited to drinks with Seokmin and some of the managers in marketing, but Wonwoo said you should come. “In fact,” he had clarified, “you should come so I don’t have to deal with DK’s drunk antics all night.” Who were you to deprive him of your presence when he was that desperate? Plus, there was a nice girl in marketing that was also invited; maybe tonight was the night to befriend her.

But the marketing people knew how to party. You were only halfway through your second beer whereas the rest of your group was on their fourth. And three tequila shots deep. Wonwoo, seemingly, had an affinity for tequila, unlike yourself. He was able to throw them back like it was nothing; he didn’t even need a chaser. When Seokmin had requested they all get a fourth, he was met with a round of cheers, and even Wonwoo – quiet, introverted Wonwoo – threw his hands up with excitement. You placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering in his ear, “Are you sure about that?”

Wonwoo felt his whole body freeze when your hot breath reached his ear. A pale, pink flush appeared on his cheeks, but you chocked it up to how drunk he was. Eventually, he waved away your worry with his hand. “I’m fiiiiiiiiine. Hey, how about I get you another beer?”

“Are you even coherent enough to get me another –”

“HEY! Bartender! Can I get one more of these?!” He shouted, waving your empty glass in the air. “Oh, and more tequila!”

Seokmin slapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder, laughing along with him. As you made friends with the rest of the marketing department, you found yourself glancing at Wonwoo every so often. His cheeks were so rosy now, and his glasses kept slipping down his nose. To be fair though, everyone in this dive bar seemed to be in the same state of mind. Seokmin was singing along to the Sabrina Carpenter song blasting through the speakers. Josh was so drunk that he was crying about how much he loved his friends. They had even gotten Suzanne in finance to come out, and she was making friends with everyone for once. And Wonwoo … oh, god, Wonwoo’s head was now on the bar top and he was closing his eyes –

You abandoned your beer and walked over to your friend, shaking his shoulders. His eyes instantly opened, expecting to see Seokmin, but when his gaze met yours, he instantly felt all warm and fuzzy. “Okay,” you said, trying your best to hoist this 6 foot man off the barstool, “you’ve had enough. I’m taking you home.”

It was like pulling teeth to get him to tell you his address, but you guessed you shouldn’t be surprised when the man on your arm was blackout drunk. After flagging a taxi, you shoved him in the seat next to you and rubbed your hands together to get them warm. Wonwoo’s head was on your shoulder the second you sat down, his eyes fluttering closed as the taxi sped off into the night. You watched his fingers twitch on his thigh as he whispered sleepily, “I think my family would really like you.”

“Is that so?” You chuckled, squeezing his arm for reassurance, but little did you know just how much your touch effected him. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re you,” he replied, and then yawned. “Only you and Mingyu would do this for me.”

Your brow furrowed. “Who’s Mingyu?”

The taxi pulled up to a brick apartment building then, and your cold fingers struggled to get cash out from your pocket while Wonwoo was practically laying on top of you. Finally, you did your best to haul him out of the seat, thanking the taxi driver before gathering an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulders. The building was definitely old with vines of ivy crawling up one side. There was a dead tree with snow covering it’s branches directly by the door, spilling snowflakes on your head as you struggled to input the code Wonwoo managed to remember. And then, you were pulling him up two flights of stairs, which took far longer than you estimated. You had basically ripped his keys from his hand once you reached his apartment and continued to drag him inside, laying him on the old couch that was conveniently right near the door.

Wonwoo grumbled as soon as his head hit the armrest, and he almost fell off the couch if it weren’t for you catching him and rolling him back onto the cushion. “I’m going to go get you a glass of water,” you said, quickly rushing off to his kitchen. “Please, for the love of god, don’t fall off the couch again.”

He whined for you to come back, but you pretended you didn’t hear it, because if you did, you’d have to reckon with the tingle that bloomed between your legs at the sound of his desperation.

The entrance of his kitchen was right in front of a small hallway that sectioned off two ways. There was a bedroom door on each side of the hall, and once you walked inside the kitchen, you found a tiny table from the 80s and the dishwasher currently running. You didn’t have time to contemplate that now, and instead pilfered through his cabinets until you found a glass and filled it with tap water. Rushing back to his side, Wonwoo was already laying halfway off the couch and you sighed.

You set the glass of water on his coffee table and lifted him back up. With a little bit of help from you, you both managed to shrug off his winter jacket and you tucked a throw blanket over him to prevent him from falling off again. A heavy exhale slipped past your lips as you knelt by his side, and you couldn’t help but reach out to pushed back his hair from his forehead. His eyes were closed, but you knew he wasn’t sleeping. You smiled to yourself.

Were coworkers supposed to show this much affection for each other?

“Wonwoo,” you said softly, and he cracked one eye open. “Do you want some water?”

He shut that eye again, grimacing at the thought of anything entering his body right now. “Ab…absolutely not.”

“It’ll make you feel better,” you persuaded, but he still shook his head. “Okay, so what do you want right now?”

His breath stilled for a moment. “Can I be honest?”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

“I …” No, he couldn’t be that honest. “I want you to … keep p–pushing back my hair. It’s … relaxing.”

You chuckled, “Okay, you got it.” Your fingers were at the crown of his head again, smoothing back the strands. You hadn’t noticed until now that he had a freckle on the left side of his forehead; maybe you’d just never been this close to notice. Well, actually, you had. There was this thing you two did called a kiss –

“If you’re going to fall asleep, I’m going to take off your glasses,” you informed him, slipping his glasses off and setting them by his glass of water. It was late, much later than you anticipated on staying out, and you both still had to go to work tomorrow. 

But then his hand was grabbing your wrist, his grip surprisingly firm for how intoxicated he was. “Can I b–be honest again?” He slurred, his eyes half open to meet yours.

You sighed, placing your hand on top of his, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Just know whatever you say will be used to make fun of you tomorrow –”

“I can’t … I haven’t …” He took a breath to formulate the words in his head. “… Stopped thinking about our kiss.”

You blinked down at him, watching the way his eyes began to close again as he relaxed into the old couch cushions. “You can’t just say shit like –”

He scoffed dramatically. “I’m noooot,” he defended, his hand slipping off your wrist to curl underneath the blanket.

“Wonwoo …” Your voice trailed off, the words dying on your tongue.

“Who the hell are you?”

You immediately got to your feet at the sound of another person’s voice behind you. Eyes growing wide, you took in the sight of the man in front of you wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, droplets of water trailing down his chiseled abdomen as he shook a smaller towel through his hair. He might’ve been taller than Wonwoo, only by a little bit, and his skin was a golden tan that reminded you of summertime even in this harsh winter. Why was Wonwoo hiding handsome men in his apartment? The man looked at you, waiting for an answer, his brows raised.

“Oh,” you cleared your throat. “Um …”

“Leave her alone, Mingyu,” Wonwoo groaned from the couch, turning away from them to lay on his side.

So this was Mingyu, you concluded. This slightly god-like dude that looked like he walked straight out of a porno was the only other person who’d help Wonwoo when he was blackout drunk. Interesting.

Mingyu raised his hand awkwardly for you to shake. “His roommate,” he clarified.

“Oh,” you replied, grasping his hand for a moment and telling him your name. 

Mingyu instantly grinned, laying the small towel over his neck, holding both ends. “So you’re her.”

You blinked, not knowing how to respond to that. Perhaps there was no way to respond; the silence was comfortable enough. You decided to keep that in mind for later though.

“He’s … well, he got very drunk,” you informed Mingyu, gesturing to a now-sleeping Wonwoo with both thumbs. “I wanted to make sure he got home okay.”

Mingyu nodded, and then sighed. “I’ll take care of him. Don’t worry,” he promised, opening up the door for you. “Get home safe, okay?”

Wonwoo: Sorry about that the other night. I won’t get drunk like that again. It doesn’t happen very often

You: it’s okay! I’m used to handling drunk people

You: don’t get me wrong, I like to have my fun but it’s easier for me to take care of other people than like … be incoherent and anxious lol

Wonwoo: By the end of the night I was starting to feel that way. Not fun

You: DRINK WATER

You: your roommate is hot btw. does he always walk around without a shirt?

Wonwoo: Of course, he didn’t have a shirt on when you met him

Wonwoo: Everyone likes Mingyu

You: well, I like you [UNSENT]

The bi-annual sales meeting was started to boost morale and talk with other departments that you didn’t see as often. It was typically held at a hotel in the downtown city, with the company flying in all the sales reps from across the country. There were even a few from overseas. In reality though, this was usually the week where coworkers made mistakes. At least one person was let go after these sales meetings, and HR had their eyes peeled for an entire week.

You never made a mistake at one of these. And you didn’t expect to any time soon.

This was a week of rubbing elbows with slimy sales reps and making sure some old man hadn’t spiked your drink. For most, this was a week to slack off, but a woman working in corporate couldn’t relax in these settings. You’d been making corrections to your boss’ presentation for the entire company for what felt like forever. (Realistically, it’d been almost two weeks.) You probably went through the 50 slides at least twice as much, checking for spelling mistakes and making sure it was in the right place on your desktop. Not on some random external hard drive. Not in the trash. 

But it was finally the day you’d been dreading. Presentation day, and everyone at the company was eager to hear the Boss reveal if they hit their goal for the year, amongst other things. You checked the slides another time, and then made sure no one would trip over the HDMI cord connected to the projector. The Boss gave you a reassuring smile, and then it was go time.

Your boss could be a shit bag – what CEO wasn’t? – but he had a way of speaking that made everyone so excited for the future. He was probably the reason why morale was always so high, and everyone looked forward to his presentation at these meetings. Your finger hovered over the right arrow button as he went through his speech, pointing out company statistics and what he wanted them all to accomplish this year, before finally getting to the goal reach. And his answer was nothing short of what the audience wanted to hear. He congratulated all of them, and everyone clapped together at the good news.

When you looked out at the crowd that had gathered, you realized almost every seat in the ballroom was filled. Some were even standing near the door and – wait, there was Wonwoo, leaning against the wall in the back. IT didn’t need to be here for this presentation. In fact, they were encouraged to be doing other things, like manning a table near HR and offering on-the-spot tech help. A smile made it’s way to your lips, watching the way Wonwoo was listening intently.

Once the presentation was over and the room erupted in small talk, your boss came over and thanked you for helping out yet again. “Of course,” you replied, as if there was anything else to say. He gave you a comforting squeeze of the hand before walking off to talk to some of his favorite sales reps.

As you shut your laptop and began to place your things in your backpack, Wonwoo slipped into the chair beside yours. Just the sight of his grin set you at ease, but also made you nervous at the same time. Why were you suddenly so nervous? This was just Wonwoo.

Just Wonwoo. Just Wonwoo. Just … your Wonwoo.

“Congratulations,” he beamed, giving you a high five. “I know you’ve been working on this all week, but you did it!”

You always stressed so much about this presentation, but at the end of the day … “All I did was press a button,” you shrugged.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, but you didn’t accidentally delete your file like every other time you’ve messaged me on Slack.” He chuckled, and you scoffed at his teasing. “I’d call that a win.”

The second to last night of sales meeting week was the longest night of the year. It was a tradition for everyone to go out to a bar the company rented out, drinking whatever alcohol they could get their hands on while celebrating a job well done. You only saw half these people twice a year, and half of the time they’d have a beer in their hands. 

You did your best to ignore every sales rep that tried to speak with you without slurring their words, but that was damn near impossible when some were already on their second cocktail. However, no matter how embarrassing it was, you did allow them to compliment you and your hard work. Who were you to turn down the validation? And when the time came, even your boss came over to compliment you again, and you realized there was truly nothing like being good at your job. 

Just for a moment, everything felt okay. It was like the loneliness dissipated, the sting of years without pleasure or having someone by your side … it all faded when you were rewarded for your hard work.

Maybe tonight was the night you had fun for once.

When you finally found Wonwoo later that night, he was surrounded by a few younger members of the IT team, debating what computer language everyone should be obligated to learn. You waved to him from where you stood by the bar top, and that was all it took to have him walking away from his team and towards you. He wrapped one arm around your shoulders, insisting to buy you drinks for the rest of the night, and you didn’t hesitate to agree. If there was anyone here you trusted enough to hand you a drink, it was Wonwoo.

Just Wonwoo.

The hour was reaching midnight now, and you weren’t sure how many martinis you had, but you were hiccuping a storm. That was a telltale sign that you were totally, thoroughly drunk. Wonwoo was only drinking beer and pacing himself, unlike that night at the dive bar, but he was enjoying the sight of you finally letting loose. You hung on his arm, staring up at him with your big eyes, glazing over from all the alcohol coursing through your system. He didn’t like how this effected him; he shouldn’t be attracted to the way your gaze looked while you were intoxicated. But he couldn’t help but wonder if your eyes held the same shine while your lips were wrapped around his –

No, this was too much. He should take you back to the hotel.

The two of you glanced around the bar, realizing it was mostly cleared out. You definitely needed to leave now.

He tugged on your arm, wrapping one of his around your waist to support you. “C’mon now,” he grunted, helping you walk out. “Let’s get you back.”

“I didn’t f–finish my drink thoooooough,” you argued, despite letting him lead you out of the bar. “And I can walk … on my own. Swear!”

“Listen, you took care of me once,” he said as you two walked into the brisk cold air. The hotel was, thankfully, only a block away. “Let me take care of you.”

Even with the alcohol pumping in your veins, just the sound of those words falling from his mouth made you grip him tighter. You felt like your bones were made of jelly, and it wasn’t just from the vodka. It was him, and the way he made you feel, and how secretly warm he was, and the way he took care of you as you took care of him, and – oh, god, you wanted to cry because you liked Jeon Wonwoo so much.

So, so much.

It was much easier to get you back to your hotel room than his apartment, seeing as this hotel had a working elevator. You slumped beside him, tripping over your feet every so often, as he hauled you down the hallway to your room. You gave him your keycard easily, and once the door was open, he squeezed your hand to silently let you know it was time to move again. He helped you into the room, shutting the door behind him, before laying you down on your bed with the clumsiness only he could have. 

You were laughing now, hiccuping from the alcohol, but laughing nonetheless. And he was laughing at your hiccups. Or maybe he just liked the way you grinned at him.

He assisted with taking off your boots and jacket, too embarrassed to remove anything else. And it definitely wasn’t appropriate to either. Tearing back the covers, he nestled you underneath them, and said, “You got everything, right? I’m a call away if you need me.” He grabbed one of the small trash cans in the room and placed it at your bedside. “If you need to vomit and can’t make it to the bathroom, just use the trash can here –”

You hand came out to wrap around his forearm. “Stay, Wonwoo.”

Your sleepy eyes were killing him, making his inhibitions melt and his cock throb at the same time. He sighed, sitting on the side of the mattress, and before he could stop himself, he was tucking hair behind your ear. “You know I can’t do that,” he said, his voice like a caress. “You know how it would look if someone saw me leave this room tomorrow morning. HR is on all our asses this week.”

“I know,” you slurred, and then pressed your flushed cheek into his palm. “I j–just thought you … were taking care of me thoooooooough …”

His resolve crumbled into a million pieces. This was complete, utter torture. You had to know how you effected him, but of course you didn’t, because you were stretching under the covers and yawning like you didn’t just make his heart stop. 

That’s how he ended up in your bed, shutting off the lights and settling underneath the comforter. Until you came closer and rested your head on his chest. Despite how fast his heart was beating, he felt so at peace, and you both fell asleep in the clothes you wore out tonight.

Only a few hours later, you woke with a clear head and the beginning of a hangover. Your head was pounding like crazy, and it took everything in you to slip out from the comfort of your bed and pad your feet over to the bathroom. The bright light was burning your eyes, but you needed it to find the Tylenol you left by the sink. Filling a cup with water, you took the medication and prayed it worked sooner rather than later.

You squinted at yourself in the mirror, realizing you were still in the outfit you wore yesterday. With a sigh, you picked up the big t-shirt you left on the floor yesterday morning and stripped yourself until you were in nothing but your underwear. You pulled the t-shirt on and slumped against the wall, pressing your forehead against the cold tile. Now this felt like heaven for your headache.

It took a couple of minutes to get yourself to move again, feet slapping against the floor as you walked out of the bathroom. You noticed Wonwoo was awake too, in the midst of slinking back under the covers, and you saw his jeans abandoned by his bedside.You crawled back to your cocoon of blankets, and he instantly wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest. And you … you didn’t move away. In fact, you pressed yourself closer, finally hearing how his heart raced. Wonwoo didn’t care if it was probably 4 AM and he probably had to leave in a few hours – before anyone else woke – because he was holding you and smelling you hair. You smelled … god, you smelled so good that it made him hard almost instantly.

You felt his hand splay against your spine, as if trying to hold himself back, and it was then that your eyes opened. The room was dark, but you knew when his gaze was burning into yours only seconds later. You slipped one hand out from the covers, cupping his cheek as your thumb brushed over his lower lip. Under his breath, he muttered a soft, “Shit,” because you both knew where this was going.

You agreed you wouldn’t do this again. You agreed to be friends.

But now you’re kissing again.

Your hand moved from his face to his neck, and his hands are gripping your cheeks to make sure your mouth stayed on his. His fingers were shaking. He kissed you desperately, as if he needed this just to be able to breathe again, and maybe he did. You were like putty in his hands, molding yourself to his body as your tongue tangled with his. Whatever ache you felt in your temples drifted between your legs, causing you to moan into his mouth. And fuck, just the sound of you made his cock swell, precum soaking through his boxers.

The room felt so hot all of a sudden, but your cold hands came in handy as they rested on his neck. His left hand slid down to your ass, finally giving it a firm squeeze after kicking himself for not doing it when he first kissed you. That made you moan again, and he decided he’d never stop touching you like this, just so he could hear these sounds fall from your lips.

He slid his knee between your legs on instinct, and you didn’t hesitate to start grinding against his thigh. The friction felt delicious and soothing. You both kissed each other slower, a little messier, focusing on touching each other everywhere you dreamed about all these months. Your fingers traced down the column of his neck, down the thin cotton of the shirt he was still wearing from yesterday, while bucking against his thigh. His lips left yours, dragging across your cheek so he could nibble on your earlobe, feeling it grow warm and red from all the attention. “You have no idea how long I’ve needed you,” he whispered, and you damn near almost came from that confession.

You weren’t used to this; you couldn’t remember the last time you experienced pleasure like this with someone, but you couldn’t imagine stopping. Not when he angled his thigh just right, the muscle in his leg rubbing against your clit, your panties completely soaked. You cupped him over his boxers, feeling his bulge throb in your palm, and you cooed, “Can I …”

He groaned. You didn’t need to say more; Wonwoo was smart enough to know what you were insinuating. He felt disoriented, drunk off of you and your touch, smell, everything. “Are you … are you sure you don’t want to …” His voice was giving out, but from the way your fingers were slipping under the waistband of his boxers, you knew you wanted just this, and he’d give you whatever you wanted. “Yes. Yes, of course. That’s fine,” he finished.

You chuckled softly. He smiled against your neck. Pulling his cock out and wrapping your palm around it, you began to stroke him slowly. “Oh, god,” he was sighing into the crook of your neck, his brain in such a state of disarray when you resumed grinding against his leg while also pumping him from base to tip. This couldn’t be real; he had to be dreaming, but he could feel your wet panties sticking to his thigh. He could feel himself shake as he clung to you and pressed sloppy, wet kisses to your throat. It was all too much, but not enough at the same time. 

“Wonwoo,” you whimpered, and he dragged his lips back to yours just to feel how your mouth moved when you said his name. You bucked your hips faster, your arousal coating his thigh, and warmth bloomed between your legs. When your hand on his cock reached his head again, you rubbed the pad of your thumb over his slit, making more precum bead onto your knuckles. “Wanna cum with you,” you begged, stroking him faster and in time with your hips.

“I know you do, I know,” he breathed against your lips. “Just a little faster … yes, just like that. Fuck.”

Only a moment later were you trembling, hips stuttering as pleasure took over your body. You came hard, squeezing his thigh between your legs, and your cry was swallowed by Wonwoo’s lips. If he didn’t kiss you, he knew he’d moan so loud it would wake the entire hotel. Because – oh, god, he was cumming now, and he was sighing against your mouth as he erupted in your hand, ropes of cum staining your t-shirt. He could’ve swore he saw white. He’d never felt a release like this before; not with anyone else. Not even when he jerked off. But maybe it was because this was your hand and you were cumming on his leg, and fuck –

You were still shaking in each other’s arms, minds blank and reeling, bodies coming down from the high. It took the kind of strength that moved mountains to slip from his arms and clean yourself up. But by the time you came back from the bathroom and cuddled up next to him, Wonwoo was already fast asleep.

Jeon Wonwoo [6:08 AM]: I had to leave early this morning before anyone woke. But if you want, I’d like to see you at breakfast this morning :)

You [7:31 AM]: Jeon Wonwoo, I’m begging you to just text this to me

You [7:31 AM]: Also, was your phone hacked? Since when do you use emojis?

There wasn’t much to do on the last day of sales meeting week. The only things on your plate were to make niceties with some of the new reps, and probably attend a few presentations by HR. When you had finally woken up this morning to just you in the bed, you almost considered skipping the HR presentations, feeling too guilty and like they might see right through you. It was irrational, but you were sure that this was the only way to feel after realizing that you hooked up with your coworker and friend. 

Not that you hadn’t wanted to. Not that you hadn’t been thinking about it since your kiss. No, it wasn’t like that at all.

So why were suddenly terrified to see him at breakfast?

You got ready as quick as you could – but of course, making sure you wore that V-neck sweater that showed off your cleavage just right – and threw your hair up before leaving your hotel room. The line for the breakfast buffet was packed, but you waited patiently and decided to sit near the bar once you plate was full. The rest of the dining room was filled with people and you weren’t awake enough to make shitty small talk. Sitting here at the bar top was peaceful and quiet –

“Is this … seat taken?”

Your eyes met his instantly, and you noticed the way Wonwoo was cringing at the line he threw at you. You decided to forget it, for his sake, and gestured for him to sit down. Fuck, you were so goddamn nervous, even though you had agreed to meet him in the first place. You wore this low-cut sweater for him. You both sat in silence for a bit, crunching awkwardly on the burnt bacon, and shifting in your seats. 

“Did you …” You were surprised that your mouth was moving on it’s own volition, spilling any words that came to your head. “… Do anything this morning since you were up early?”

Wonwoo choked a bit on a strawberry, but recovered quickly. “Uh … yeah, yeah, sure. Once I came down here, one of the IT interns found me in a panic because he couldn’t set up one of the rep’s new work phones. Created a whole scene over nothing.”

You snorted and sipped your coffee. “Is that intern still breathing?”

His eyes flickered to yours, a slow smile growing on his face. “Yes, actually.”

You fell into sync then, letting the awkward silence melt away as you joked about Wonwoo’s interns. He wasn’t meant to teach college students, god help them. But as your plates became empty and a server came around to take them, you two were left with only the mugs in your hands, strangely reminiscent of that apology coffee he bought for you so long ago.

Wonwoo sighed. “Hey, so about last night – or I guess, this morning …”

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you interjected, setting your coffee down. “I have a hangover, but I am thriving.”

He blinked. “Well, that’s good. But I was referring to –”

You almost couldn’t look at him when you said, “The fact that we’re definitely not just friends anymore?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that part.”

“I …” You licked your lips as you gathered yourself. There was this … terrifying flutter in your chest. You’d never felt something like this before, but you weren’t keen on letting it go. Not yet. “I would like to see you again. Like that. Definitely not during work hours. If you catch my drift. This is awkward.”

Wonwoo had to turn his head so you wouldn’t see him trying to hold in his laughter, but it was clear as day. You sighed loud and hit his arm, making him look at you once again as he snickered to himself. “You know, you could just ask me if I want to hang out.”

You leveled a look at him and huffed. “Okay, Wonwoo, do you –”

“Yes,” he beamed. “Always, yes.”

You found yourself at Wonwoo’s side more often than not. What used to be work get togethers transitioned to meeting up at a bar, or checking a new restaurant on the weekends. Sometimes he’d ask you to come over so you could taste test a new recipe he found. (Unfortunately for both of you, Wonwoo wasn’t very good at cooking, but he was getting better. Somewhat.) Those recipe nights, however, always led to him lifting you up on his creaky kitchen counter and kissing you so hard that you almost forgot to breathe. Until Mingyu came into the kitchen, making a gagging sound, and you two instantly detached from each other.

Friday nights were known as Mingyu’s Movie Nights, and Wonwoo began inviting you to those. He had said that this would help knock a few movies off your Letterboxd Watchlist, but you knew that was just an excuse for wanting to see you. You probably saw him more than anyone now, but you couldn’t deny that you … wanted to see him too. Having him in your life made everything suddenly better. He was kind and smart and thoughtful. He made you laugh in ways you couldn’t explain, and obviously … he didn’t have to do much to make you want him. He’d simply have to look at you and you’d get on his lap. If Mingyu wasn’t there, of course.

Wonwoo seemed to blossomed with you. He was more excited to leave his apartment, more eager to become a better cook. He spoke up often, whether it be at work or out with you, rather than letting someone talk. He wanted to learn all the things that you liked, wanted to touch you exactly where you needed it, wanted to find new ways to leave you breathless. Because it was for you.

Even Mingyu noticed a difference in his friend. He’d known Wonwoo for so many years now, but he’d never made this much of a change for anyone. One night, when you and Mingyu were alone in the kitchen, he mentioned, “He’s different around you.” And then kept pouring wine in three glasses while Wonwoo picked a movie from the living room.

There were also times where Wonwoo was a booty call, of course, and neither of you had any problems with that. Some nights, Wonwoo would call you after Mingyu went to bed, begging you to come over, but ended up settling for phone sex. His attraction to you in stockings only went up, and it was difficult for him to contain his arousal at work when you strutted around just knowing how it affected him. There was days where all he wanted to do was pull you into a janitor closet and fuck the living daylights out of you. But it wasn’t like you’d let him anyway.

You had your fair share of desperate moments too. Especially tonight, as you were out drinking with your friends at a local spot you’d been coming to for years. The live band was loud and you’d had your fair share of shitty margaritas already. One of your friends was tugging on the arm of some rando she met on the dance floor, yelling over the music that she was leaving and she’d text you when she was home safe. That left you shit out of luck for a ride home, and suddenly very lonely. The last thing you wanted was to drink alone at a shitty bar on a Saturday night.

Wandering outside, your heeled boots crunched in the snow as you looked for the nearest Uber. The fastest one around would take over 20 minutes to get to you, and as you looked around the empty city streets … wait, didn’t Wonwoo live around here? Maybe all the tequila was just getting to you. But you called him anyway, and despite the time reaching 1 AM, he answered instantly. He heard the slight lisp in your voice, and once he got out of you exactly where you were, he realized you were right. It only took him about 10 minutes to get to where you were, parking on the side of the road. 

He sighed at the sight of you sitting on the curb, shivering and hugging your jacket around you. Various drunk people filtered in and out of the bar, but none of them checked on you – a freezing girl just sitting on the side of the road. “Why didn’t you wait inside for me?” He asked, his breath hot against your cheek when he pulled you up in his arms. Your dress rode up a little, and his hands were quick to yank it back down. “It’s the middle of winter.”

“I jusssst thought … the cold air would sssssober me up,” you slurred, letting him place you in his passenger seat before running back over to the driver’s side. His car was warm, making you bury yourself in your jacket, but his hand on your thigh was even warmer somehow. If your fingers weren’t so cold, you’d wrap your hand around his wrist, inching his palm up higher as he drove.

Once he was parked, he wasted no time getting you out and helping you up the stairs to his apartment. Mingyu was passed out on the couch, an old movie from the 80s playing on the TV, but you could hardly register it because your brain was spinning and Wonwoo was practically dragging you to his bedroom. He was grateful that all the lights were off so you couldn’t see how messy it was, but honestly, it was a miracle if you could see anything clearly right now.

He sat you down on the bed and you looked up at him with bleary eyes, which made you so fucking hard to resist. All the tequila you drank was pumping through your bloodstream, and you couldn’t help but fist your hands in his t-shirt and try to kiss him. He evaded your lips though – no matter how much he wanted to – and you whined, “Whyyyyyy won’t you kiss me?”

“Shhh …” He whispered, yanking off your boots. “Inside voice. Mingyu’s sleeping.”

You smacked your hands against his mattress. “He’s sleeping in the living room!”

Wonwoo got back to his feet, gesturing as he instructed, “Arms up.” You were too intoxicated to do anything but oblige, lifting your arms as he struggled to pull your dress over your head. Once it was off and thrown to the side with your boots, your hazy vision caught him looking through his drawers for clothes for you to wear. But didn’t he just take your clothes off? You could’ve sworn he did that because he wanted you too right now.

You protested when he tried putting you in one of his simple white tees, but your body felt too limp to fight. He slipped the shirt over your head before pulling back his comforter and wrapping you in it. With your eyes half open, you watched him come to the other side of the bed, yanking his pants down and crawling in bed beside you. He reached over you and set his glasses on the side table. You sighed dramatically. Now he was just torturing you. Wonwoo simply chuckled to himself, realizing what you were angry about.

His arms instantly wound around you, his lips pulled into a smile at your hairline. You looked up at him with a scowl and your voice slurred, “Whysss your eyes closed?”

Wonwoo snickered under his breath. “Because it’s late and I’m tired.” His hand on your lower back traced circles, attempting to coax you to sleep.

“I thought you wanted meeeee,” you complained. Your hand reached in between you two, smoothing your palm against his groin as he slowly started to harden under your touch. You heard his breath hitch slightly, so you kept going, a soft ache beginning between your own legs at just the thought of putting him in your mouth. 

“Sweetheart, I always want you.” He then grabbed your wrist, moving your hand away from him, and then lacing your fingers together. Pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead, he sighed sleepily, “But you’re much sexier when you’re sober.”

You started to realize why you didn’t usually do this, why it had been so long since you let someone see every part of you. What you looked like completely stripped down – both inside and out – completely vulnerable for your person. How your face contorted during pleasure, and how it relaxed when you were taken care of.

Catching feelings like this meant giving up control.

You didn’t work on the weekends unless you had to, and when the Boss sent you a high priority email on Saturday morning, you didn’t hesitate. He had transferred over a bunch of sensitive files that were needed for a board presentation first thing Monday morning. But of course, something just had to go wrong: the files were corrupted and you had no way of figuring out what to do. And it wasn’t like your boss was on call like you were on a Saturday.

This was how you ended up at Wonwoo’s apartment.

You had called him in a panic, explaining what had went wrong, but he didn’t seem too fazed. He was used to your tech emergencies by now. But by the time you got to his apartment, out of breath after running from the train station, he had realized just how serious you were taking this. You both sat down on his couch and you let him work his magic. His fingers moved across the keys as if he were a musician, and you couldn’t stop biting your nail nervously.

Mingyu came back to the apartment after grocery shopping, waving at you before putting all the food away. Seeing as you were here, maybe they could all go out and have fun tonight. He went into the living room, ready to mention a band that was playing at a local venue later, but upon seeing the stressed look on both your faces, he exhaled. “It’s a Saturday,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Why do you two look like that?”

“Corrupted documents,” Wonwoo answered quickly, not even looking up from the monitor. 

“I don’t even want to know more,” he said, grabbing his leather jacket from the coat rack and tugging his arms through the sleeves. “Just your faces are making me anxious. I’m heading out. Don’t wait up.”

You gave Mingyu a wave as he left, but Wonwoo was too focused to even say goodbye. It took about another hour and one cup of coffee, but Wonwoo eventually figured out how to uncorrupt the files. You let out a sigh of relief as he handed the laptop back to you and you were able to open each of them without issue. Thank god, you had managed to figure this out before Monday morning. And … having Wonwoo wasn’t too bad either.

“Thank you,” you beamed, not being able to resist pinching his cheek. “My hero.”

Silence engulfed the room as you both noticed how the sky was already getting dark. You cleared your throat, slipping your laptop back into your bag and muttering, “Thanks again. I know I kind of barged in and wasted your Saturday afternoon –”

Like the saint he was, Wonwoo simply smiled at you. “No time with you is a waste.”

Whatever words you were about to say clogged in your throat. You swallowed hard, attempting to hide your fluster, but you ended up choking out, “I … should go.”

“You don’t have to.” He stood from the couch, walking over to you and running his hands down your arms. His brow lifted. “Do you want to?”

You let the strap of your bag fall to the floor as your hands cupped his neck. “No, not particularly.”

Wonwoo chuckled, leaning in and letting his lips just lightly graze yours. “We have the place to ourselves,” he hummed, slowly dragging you backwards with him. “Mingyu’s gone … probably won’t be back until midnight.”

You bit your lip to suppress a giggle, letting him lead you to his room, as limp as a rag doll. Once he shut his bedroom door behind you, he flicked the light on. You pressed your back against the door and your eyes roamed around the space. This was the first time you saw his bedroom with the light on; every other time had been pitch black. You liked that his walls weren’t bare – they were filled with posters of his favorite musicians or photographs. On his desk was a large monitor and a gaming set up, but also a camera with stacks of film next to it. His furniture was old – probably from the 90s, probably passed down from his family – but the scratches within the wood told a story. And unlike most men, his sheets were gray.

Wonwoo realized you were scanning his room, and he became acutely aware of the clothes scattered amongst his floor. He muttered something to himself, beginning to pick up the clothes piles and chuck them into his hamper. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I wish I inherited the organized gene like Mingyu.”

You tilted your head, striding over and pulling him up, making him halt his actions. Your hands went to his face as you brought him closer. With a smile, you whispered, “I don’t want to talk about Mingyu,” before pressing your lips to his.

The kiss became deep far too quickly, or maybe time was passing faster than usual. Your lips crashed so hard against his that they’d bruise. He took off his glasses, setting them on his drawer, before his fingers hooked into the belt loops of your jeans. You stepped forward, making him step back, then another, and another – until you had him falling back on his bed. You straddled him, arching your back so you could lick into his mouth just how he liked. Hands sliding up his shirt, you felt his abdomen flex underneath you. His fingers in your belt loops jerked you closer, pressing your hips to his, and it wasn’t long before he was moaning into the kiss.

You smiled against his mouth, dragging your lips down his neck, and then even further, as you slinked down his body. Your eyes were trained on his, and he was trying his best not to look like a complete idiot in front of you. But it was difficult when you were looking at him with those eyes and – oh, now you were pulling down the waistband of his sweatpants, practically salivating when you noticed how hard he was already.

But … this was what you guys always did. Not that he had an issue with you giving him blow jobs, but none of this felt particularly intimate. You never really let him worship you; you took control of the entire situation. As if you were bringing your professional stubbornness to the bedroom.

“Wait,” he choked out as you palmed his growing bulge. “Can we … can we try something different?”

Your brows furrowed and you continued pressing sloppy kisses above his groin. “Why would we do that?”

Wonwoo let out a frustrated sound, and before you could prepare yourself, he was yanking his pants back up and pinning you underneath him. You blinked up at him in surprise, and he was gripping your wrists above your head now, his bodyweight pressing you into the mattress. He almost looked shocked that he had the strength to push you back, but his blown-out pupils gave away his true desire.

“What was that for?” You asked incredulously. Nerves clouded your thoughts, making you stutter. “I thought … I thought you liked …”

“No, trust me, I do,” he assured you, and then tipped his head as he gazed down at you. “I just … why won’t you let me take care of you?”

You scoffed then, trying to cover up how petrifying this conversation was becoming. Were you that transparent now, or did he simply know you far too well for your own good?

“I have no idea what you’re –”

Wonwoo gave you one of his infamous leveled looks, and you sighed. “You’re in constant need of seeking control when it’s always at your fingertips. It’s okay to let it go; it won’t slip away.” He let go of your wrists then, but kept his body hovering over yours, holding himself up by his elbows resting near your head. “Please, just … surrender it for once. Let me take the lead.”

You glanced down at your hands on your chest, twiddling your thumbs. Eventually, you murmured, “It’s hard. I’ve never done that before.”

“Can we try? I like …” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, then let his head fall as he chuckled to himself. “This is so awkward. I just – I like prioritizing your pleasure. It feels much better for me and I think it will for you too. And if you don’t like it –”

“I’m not good with change,” you blurted.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice taking on that husky tone that made warmth pool in your stomach. His eyes flickered to your lips now, noticing how swollen they still were. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. It was just a suggestion, and I probably ruined the mood.”

You shook your head immediately, allowing your fingers to tenderly sweep over his shirt. “No, I …” A voice in the back of your head told you this was a good thing, and you did want this, but the fear of change was overwhelming. You wanted to step out of your comfort zone, desperately, for once. You were allowed to do this; you were allowed to be happy. 

Your gaze met his again. “I want to try.”

His eyes softened with affection, but then he asked, “You’re not just agreeing for my sake, right?”

“Now when have I ever done that?” You laughed, making him smile along with you. 

But as soon as his mouth met yours, that awkward, giggling persona seemed to melt away. Jeon Wonwoo morphed into an entirely different person, someone that possessed your jaw in his large hand, pulling at your bottom lip before kissing you harder. It was enough to leave you gasping for air once he pulled away, spit connecting you two, and he continued to suck and nip his way down your throat. He made sure to leave marks in places that could be covered up for work, but he’d know exactly where they were. God, would he even be able to control himself at his desk, knowing where his bites were hiding under your clothes? 

Tugging your sweater over your head, he practically whined at the sight of your breasts, constricted in the bra that you told him was too old once, but you kept wearing it anyway because he said it was cute. He lifted you for a moment, expertly removing it with one hand, before licking the valley between your breasts. You arched into him, sighing into your arm when he swirled his tongue around your taut nipple. He glanced up and realized you were hiding your face, so he pushed your hand off. “I want you to look at me while I do this,” he cooed, but it sounded more like a demand.

Despite the embarrassment, you did as he asked, feeling completely bewitched as you watched him cup the swell of your breast, tugging on your nipple. This felt like a goddamn Pornhub video. You two have had sex before, yes, but not like this. Never like this. Wonwoo had always let you do what you were comfortable with, keeping his other side at bay while you rode him hard on the couch. But this … this felt like something else entirely. The way he was lavishing both your nipples, coating them with his spit, demanding you to watch … Expletives filtered softly from your mouth, wetness gathering between your thighs. It suddenly felt too hot and your jeans were still on.

Wonwoo was taking his time with you though, and it was very clear to you that this wouldn’t just be one of those nights where you had sex for 10 minutes before ordering pizza. When he lifted his mouth from your left nipple, he asked calmly, “Do you like this or do you want more?”

You sneered, “Well, of course, I like –”

His hand came up instantly to pinch your other nipple, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that came out of your mouth. “No teasing,” he said, lowering his head to flick that nipple with his tongue. “Just answer me.”

“More,” you choked out, your hips arching off the bed, seeking friction. “Please, more.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss between your breasts once again, before lowering himself down your body. His eyes never left yours as he dragged his lips down your stomach. Eventually, he had to stand from the bed so he could finally unzip your pants, tugging when they got stuck around your ankles. When the cold air hit between your legs, you realized how soaked you were already. Wonwoo smirked to himself, slowly rolling your panties down your legs.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you joked, kicking your panties off into a pile by his bed. 

He lifted your ankle, nipping playfully, and replied, “Told you that you’d like me taking the lead.”

You rolled your eyes as he settled between your thighs, bending your knees back so your feet rested beside his head. You bit your lip as he placed sloppy kisses on your inner thigh, biting hard enough to make a bruise. Wonwoo fought hard to maintain a sense of composure, but god, the sight of your pretty pussy oozing slick made him wonder if he could cum untouched. You had let him finger you before, but had never been in the mood for this. And this was something Wonwoo had been fantasizing about since the day he noticed that tear in your stockings. He could jump for joy if that didn’t make him look like an absolute fucking loser.

He pushed your folds apart with two fingers, running a hand down his face as he attempted to school his expression. It was just so fucking hard to act cool when you were this aroused. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. You reached out and brushed his hair back from his forehead, deciding to quip, “Wonwoo, can you even find the clit without your glasses on –”

Without warning, he spit on your pussy and buried his face between your thighs. The words died on your tongue immediately, and you let out the loudest whine he’d ever heard in his life. He smiled, but that didn’t deter him from circling his tongue around your clit. He wound one of his arms around your thigh, holding you in place as he pressed his face further.

Wrapping his lips around your clit, he sucked and drew out the prettiest sounds from you, using his free hand to slip two fingers inside you. You tasted exactly like he dreamed about, sweet and tangy and so unmistakably you. He looked up at you from between your legs, curling his fingers in the spot that made tears prick at your eyes, and when your gaze found his, it was like something in him snapped. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice muffled, feasting at you like he’d been starved for days. 

Your fingers were in his hair now, pressing his head more into you, which only made this more enjoyable for him. He nearly came in his pants when your hips began to buck against his face, but this was about you. And him experiencing you cumming on his face. But mostly you. His fingers pumped faster inside you and his tongue was now flicking your clit, allowing more of your arousal to invade his mouth. He’d never get tired of this taste; he was obsessed. Now that he finally got a taste of you … he never wanted to not be doing this. Never wanted his face too far from the apex of your legs. Not when you had the sweetest taste that could move heaven and earth between these thighs.

And when you finally came on his tongue, he noticed that your legs shook like an earthquake. Your essence flooded his mouth, and he moaned – god, did he moan – lapping at you, never missing a drop of what you gave him. His fingers kept curling inside of you, making your orgasm feel like forever. When he finally removed them with a wet pop, he didn’t miss the opportunity to have more of you, wrapping his mouth around those two fingers and licking off the last of your release. You watched him, completely mesmerized by the way he savored you, even darting his tongue out to capture the whatever seeped out of you. Your hips jolted, suddenly so sensitive, and he grinned up at you.

You hardly caught your breath before he crawling up your body, kissing you hard and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Your hands fisted in his t-shirt, and when you ripped your lips away from his, you arched a brow. “You are still fully clothed,” you reminded, and then swiped at the spit lining his bottom lip.

Wonwoo simply smiled, ghosting his lips over yours before trailing them to your ear. “I’m getting to that part. Patience,” he whispered, nibbling on your earlobe. “You must really want me inside you.”

“I want to not be the only one naked.”

“Say it,” he prodded in a weirdly casual tone.

“What?”

“Say you want me inside you.”

“This is ridiculous –”

He lifted his head from your jawline. “I can easily leave this room and order a pizza,” he teased, and you blinked at him. He was actually being serious. He would completely ignore what looked like a throbbing erection in his pants, just to make a point. You knew he wasn’t trying to be mean; he wanted to get you out of your comfort zone. This was so stupid, because you did want him inside you. Embarrassingly so. He had just given you one of the best orgasms of your life, but you still had this … aching need to be filled. Your cheeks heated just at the thought of it.

“I …” Your eyes closed for a moment, trying not to make your whole face turn bright red. With a sigh, your eyes connected again, and you answered, “I want you inside me, Wonwoo.”

He rewarded you with a kiss, pulling away before it could get too heated again, and stood from the bed. “Well, when you ask nicely …” He smiled, that dominating demeanor slipping for a moment as he pulled his shirt off. You’d never get tired of the way Wonwoo looked without a shirt. He didn’t let anyone see it very often – he wasn’t like his roommate – but the moments he did, you felt eternally grateful. His torso was toned, with defined abs and pecks that made your mind boggle. You liked that his arms were long and muscled; his hands large and slightly calloused. 

You liked everything about him.

When he finally went to kick off his sweatpants, he noticed a large precum stain on the gray fabric from just eating you out. Which was probably the biggest jab to his calm and collected attitude right now, but he didn’t let it slip. He simply threw the sweatpants to the side, coming up close to the bed again, where your legs were now hanging off the edge. You gazed up at him as if he held the world in his palms, watching the way he reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock. Your eyes widened at the sight, never used to the size. He was slightly thicker than average, but long. Longer than you ever expected. With a pretty pink head leaking sticky precum.

It was killing you how long he was taking. Your legs shifted, ready to make a move to yank him underneath you, but he was faster than you. He pinned your wrists about your head with one hand this time, using his other to keep a firm grip on his cock. “You want to be in control that badly, huh?” He asked, tilting his head.

His hand was moving up and down his shaft now, letting precum dribble on your stomach. Your eyes flickered from his cock back to his eyes. “I just … I need you, Wonwoo,” you begged, your voice taking on a new tone. And somehow … wanting him so bad like this was ten times more arousing than riding him on the couch. “Please, please, Wonwoo. Please, fuck me.”

Your pleas had him falling apart, and he sighed, letting go of your wrists to discard his boxers too. His cock flopped against his stomach, hard and aching and – fuck, had he always been veiny? He got on top of you again, cooing against your lips, “I know, baby, I know.” His rubbed the underside of his length against your wet folds, moaning at the slightest bit of friction. “I’ll fuck you real good. I promise.”

Pressing the head of his cock at your entrance, his breath hitched at just the feeling of your arousal coating his shaft. You both had never taken your time with sex. But he was doing that tonight now that he was in control, letting himself slowly push inside you, feel you completely stretch open for him. You mewled, slinking your arms around his neck and carding your fingers at the nape. And when he finally buried himself to the hilt, his lips fell open and he groaned. You felt so good he could cum right now, but he needed to get a grip. The last thing he needed was to cum too fast.

Not that you would like him any less if he did.

“Wonwoo,” you cried, your hips arching up to meet his. “Please.”

Your voice snapped him out of whatever trance-like state he was in. He settled more on top of you, resting his elbows on both sides of your head, and pulled all the way out so only the tip remained. You whined at the emptiness, which soon changed to a gasp when he bullied his cock back in. Your fingers tugged at his hair; your legs crossed around his waist, drawing him deeper inside. “Fuck,” he muttered, still feeling how tight you were, how you molded yourself for him. “So fucking … god, so wet.”

His restraint could only last so long. He’d gotten his fill of feeling you adjust around him. He couldn’t take this anymore, or he was going to cum before you both had even started. With a deep breath, he set a brutal pace inside of you, his hips snapping forward. Tears rolled down your cheeks; how could something feel so good that you cried? Wonwoo seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he was burying his face in the crook of your neck and groaning, “God, so good … you feel so good … how can anyone feel this good?”

The only word you could choke out was, “Ditto,” which you’d regret for hours after this. But now was not the time.

He was fucking into you so hard that you were already sore, but you were holding onto him for dear life, clinging to him as that warmth burned in your gut. The way his cock curved and grazed your g-spot perfectly, making you tremble and whimper his name like a prayer. He placed a hand on your stomach, feeling how deep his cock nestled inside you, and you noticed him shiver in your arms. He was trying desperately to fight off his release. That coil in your gut began to tighten, and from the way Wonwoo was breathing, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He wanted you to cum first though – like always – wanted to feel you clamp around him, squeeze him so tight that he saw white. 

So he did what he did best: reached in between your bodies, finding your swollen, sensitive clit so easily, and rubbed slow circles. He lifted his head from your neck, wanting to see that familiar look in your eyes when you saw stars. “Are you gonna cum for me?” His voice was so deep that it reverberated against your chest.

And finally, as he pressed his thumb down hard and pushed into you just right, you felt your orgasm crest. “Fuck, Wonwoo,” you sobbed, body shaking as you came undone. 

But Wonwoo wasn’t stopping. He kept fucking into you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And when your walls squeezed him so tight, he buried himself completely and came hard, a generous amount of fucks leaving his lips. His cheek pressed against yours; his groans muffled by the comforter. You held him close as he filled you to the brink with his release, and it almost felt like hours before he realized he finished. 

You exhaled together, allowing your heart rates to settle. He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and then to your nose, and now he was kissing all over your face. Your cheeks instantly tinged pink, but you let him do as he pleased. He didn’t even make a move off you, letting his cock soften inside your warmth. When your eyes opened, he was staring down at you like you were the sun. You searched his eyes, “What?”

His dark gaze flickered to your lips for a moment, and then he asked, “Did you really say, ‘Ditto,’ during sex?”

You and Wonwoo had gotten into a routine. Of course, you saw him 5 days out of the week at work, but you wanted more of him. You figured out Mingyu’s schedule, coming over most nights when he wasn’t home – besides Mingyu’s Movie Nights. You would let Wonwoo cook for you, and he promised he was getting better, before he led you to his room with kisses to your neck and a firm grip on your hand. 

He always went with whatever you were comfortable with, but you found yourself letting him take the lead more often than not. You liked letting him prioritize you; you liked being selfish with him. Giving up control felt … much better than anticipated. Everything about this felt too good to be true. But you couldn’t help yourself, and you didn’t want to spoil it by asking him the dreaded, “What are we?” For now, you’d exist in your safe little bubble, where he would smile at you at work and then fuck your brains out after hours. It felt perfect, simple.

You approached sex through a different lens now. Instead of simply riding him on that godforsaken old couch, you let him go at his own pace: placing you on his lap, having his way with you and making you cum at least 3 times before he sunk you down on his cock, bouncing you up and down as you clung to him, practically letting him use you as a flesh light. Even when he let you sit on his face, it was on his terms: his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave a mark, trying to suffocate himself with your pussy, not allowing you to cum until he said so, no matter how much you needed to. But it felt too good to stop. You didn’t want this to stop. You liked the lack of control, liked the way he took care of you. The way he bent your knees back as he slid into you, keeping eye contact, so you’d feel him that much deeper … the way he could feast on you for hours, never getting enough of your taste … there was something about it that made you feel more than beautiful. 

Especially when he looked at you as if you were his world.

Especially when he fucked into you and you realized you might be in love with him.

You tended to get lost in thought while laying in bed on an early morning. The birds chirped outside, your phone chimed along with each new notification. Curling underneath your comforter, you held your pounding head, reminiscing on last Sunday. You had gone over Wonwoo’s apartment and he had surprised you with a spaghetti dinner. Mingyu promised that it was “more edible than usual” before he left you two alone in the apartment.

You had noticed the shine in Wonwoo’s eyes, how excited he was to do this for you. He had never bothered to learn anything for anyone, but all he wanted to do was please you. To make you happy. And you could see that in the way he gazed at you, making your stomach do flip flops. Letting him have all this control over you, letting him see past the fortress you’d kept up for who knows how long … it was scary and exhilarating all at the same time.

He taught you how to play his favorite video game after dinner, placing you in between his legs on the couch and letting you lean back against his broad chest. His arms cocooned around you, nestling your body in his embrace. Sometimes he would nibble on your ear as you fought to maintain hand-eye coordination with the controller. Eventually, you had given up and asked to watch him, but that led to his hand dropping the controller as the enemy killed him off. And then his fingers were slowly slipping down the waistband of your leggings, rubbing your slit over your panties. You had arched into him, your ass pressing against his hardening erection as he pulled your panties to the side, already finding you wet and ready for his touch. He chuckled in your ear, “How long have you been thinking about this?” His index finger rubbed tight circles on your clit, and all that you could formulate for a response was a moan as he –

You cut yourself off from the memory before it could end you.

Your stomach churned. Despite your better judgement, you had completely fallen head-over-heels for senior IT specialist, Jeon Wonwoo, and that was terrifying. He had seen your personality unfold, seen the most vulnerable parts of you. But nothing was more scary than admitting to yourself how much you liked him, maybe even loved. You were frantic to the point of exhaustion, so stressed that you felt sick. Soon you were shivering, your head pounding as a fever came on, and you stayed home from work for a few days. Your phone notifications be damned – you stayed in your bedroom with the blinds closed, sleeping the days away.

Every so often, you would hear your phone chime. Your phone screen would light up with another text message. But … you couldn’t bring yourself to answer him. This behavior was illogical and stupid; you just simply couldn’t help yourself. You were an avoidant. The only thing you knew how to do was slowly push him away before he saw all the layers underneath your carefully crafted facade.

What if he finally saw how anxious you were all the time?

What if he knew how you secretly craved to be loved your entire life, but you looked for it elsewhere, in places like workplace praise or crowded bars where you couldn’t see another person’s face?

What if he knew you weren’t as organized up in your head as you were at your desk?

Or worse … what if he didn’t like you back?

TUESDAY, APRIL 22

Wonwoo: What’s going on?

Wonwoo: I managed to find out that you’re sick. I can make you soup, if you want? I know my cooking is terrible. But what if this time it’s good and it cures you?

Wonwoo: If I threaten to message you on Slack, will that make you reply?

Wonwoo: I promise I won’t. Unless … lol

Wonwoo: You’re not dead, right?

Wonwoo: Please, answer me.

FRIDAY, APRIL 25

UNKNOWN: hey, it’s Mingyu. I found your number in Wonwoo’s phone. he’s really messed up right now and worrying about you.

UNKNOWN: idk what’s going on between you two, but I don’t like seeing him like this.

UNKNOWN: just … call him. or text him. or something.

Jeon Wonwoo [10:13 AM]: Did your computer die and you need a new charger?

Jeon Wonwoo [3:21 PM]: I miss you.

When you finally returned to work, it’s on a day that your cubicle mate had decided to work from home. You couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or curse until the next day, when you wished that he decided to work from home forever. It was on a Tuesday morning that you finally faced him again, locking eyes with him from across the boardroom table in an all-hands meeting. You weren’t sure what to say, weren’t sure what you could say, but … he didn’t speak to you any way. In fact, even when you both got back to your desks, he kept quiet, throwing on his headphones and focusing on whatever task was at hand. His attitude change wasn’t exactly surprising, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak to him either.

All your other coworkers looked bewildered. The silence between you two made just about everyone feel awkward. They all saw how close you and Wonwoo had become, and now everything just felt … flat. Silent. Empty. It was like you two were strangers. Maybe you had never really known each other in the first place, if you could both discard each other so easily. 

But that just seemed too good to be true. You thought about him everyday, despite yourself, and he had to think of you too. You caught his eyes on you every once in a while, and you couldn’t help but yearn for him in silence. It was probably time for you to take charge again and make the first move, but you found yourself hesitating. Again. You were overwhelmed with thoughts of rejection. 

This was why you never gave up control with someone before. It left you suddenly so, so doubtful.

You [1:34 PM]: I can’t get into my Outlook. I think I’ve locked myself out 

Jeon Wonwoo is now offline.

You [1:36 PM]: I miss you too

It was a busy Sunday, the first notes of Spring evident in the air. You needed to go to the post office today, the supermarket, probably check in on your parents … but that was all discarded when you made the sudden decision to take a taxi to Wonwoo’s apartment. Your hands were shaking more than his when he first touched you. Your leg was bouncing with anxiety, and when the taxi finally pulled up to his building, you considered never getting out. 

But you couldn’t continue being a coward. Besides, this driver had places to be, with the way he was arguing for you to pay in cash.

You were lucky enough to slide in through the building’s entrance while someone was walking out. The less you had to embarrass yourself by calling Mingyu to let you in, the better. The walk up those two flights of stairs was long and tiring, and it wasn’t because you always hated them. You physically couldn’t make yourself go faster, too frightened of what he was going to say when he saw you. Maybe he wouldn’t say anything; maybe he’d slam the door in your face. And you couldn’t blame him, because now you were at his door and – oh, god, you wanted to hurl.

The door was opening before you could even catch your breath. When you caught that first glimpse of Mingyu, you realized how much of a mistake this was. You could always turn back, run down the stairs before anyone could say a word.

But as soon as you both locked eyes, Mingyu raised his brow, but not in a mocking sense. It was as if … he expected you to be here. He sighed, leaning against the door, and without looking back, he called out, “Wonwoo! You got a visitor.”

Your eyes went wide, and then Mingyu was pushing past you, leaving the door open and muttering, “Good luck.” He was rushing down the stairs two at a time before you could even say a word back. But then you were seeing him, and you wondered if it had always been this hard to breathe around him.

Your fingers played absentmindedly as you both stared at each other. His glasses were slipping down his nose, but he made no move to fix them. His own hand was too busy dropping the controller that had been in his grip, now clattering to the floor. His hair was messed up and he was wearing his favorite comfy sweatsuit, and you … you were put together, as always. Your hair unwashed, but pulled up in a ponytail, and wearing that cardigan he liked so much on you. If he wasn’t so hurt, just the sight of you would have him on his knees right now, begging to have you.

He had to turn around and walk away. If he didn’t right now, he’d just –

“Wait,” you said, walking in and closing the door when he spun away. “Please, don’t. I –”

“What could you possibly say?” He snapped, facing you once again. You had never heard his voice at this octave before, never seen so much distress on his face. “I thought we knew each other well enough that you wouldn’t cut me off out of nowhere. As if I’m just some guy you met at a bar last weekend.”

Your mouth opened, and then closed. 

“Do you … do you even understand how worried I was about you?” He ran a hand through his hair, voice cracking for the first time in forever. You took a step closer to him. “You weren’t answering me and I just … my head went to the worst. I thought Mingyu was gonna kill me the next time I mentioned your name. And then, to see you at work and realizing that you were actually just ghosting me was a fucking punch to the gut. I didn’t get it. I still don’t get it. But I’m so pissed at you for hurting my feelings that I’m not even sure if I wanna know.”

“Wonwoo –” You started.

“Please, don’t say my name like that,” he sighed and pinched his nose. “I realize that you came all this way to finally break the news to me, but I’m good. It’s very obvious to me now that you don’t like me as much as I like you, and to save us the pity party, let me get you home –” He reached for his wallet to grab some cash for your next taxi.

But you interrupted before he could finish.

“I love you.”

He paused, looking up and making sure he heard you right. “What?”

“I’m in love with you,” you said it again, and it felt so freeing to have this weight lifted off your shoulders. You moved closer, now standing a foot away, but refusing to touch him for your own good. “And I’m not just telling you that as an excuse. Ignoring you was cruel and I can never forgive myself for hurting you. I just … when I realized how deep my feelings for you were …” Your throat closed up, as if your body was acting on instinct, preventing you from being vulnerable with him.

Wonwoo closed the distance. “Hey,” he whispered, tucking a hair behind your ear. “I’m right here with you.”

His voice was so reassuring – as always – opening you up like a blooming flower. And suddenly, your mouth didn’t feel so dry anymore and your nails stopped making crescent-shaped indents in your palm.

“I got scared,” you confessed, your gaze locked on his. “And I ran away, because that was the easiest thing to do. I thought ignoring you would be best for both of us, and I stubbornly didn’t want to hear your opinion on any of this. What I did was wrong and I … I hate myself when I do stuff like this to people I care about.”

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, but he wiped them with his thumb before they could fall. You sniffled, noticing the hurt in his eyes had faded, replaced only by adoration. Your lips pursed as you searched his gaze.

“I’ve just … never allowed anyone to open me up like this. I’ve never given my feelings to someone and let them care for me.” You blinked, your eyes rimmed red. “I’ve hardly been able to comprehend my own feelings because I’ve been scared shitless of them in the first place. But I can’t … I can’t justify pushing you away anymore. Because I love you. I don’t like being alone anymore and all I ever want to do is see you. Sometimes I’m afraid if I stop holding you, you’ll disappear. You do so much for me; you literally fix something on my computer everyday. I think if I let you go right now, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life, and I –”

Wonwoo cut you off by pressing his lips to yours. You couldn’t remember the last time he kissed you like this: so gently with his palm cupping your jaw. You felt yourself relax when he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His tongue licked into your mouth, sighing with relief when the familiar taste of you entered his orbit again. The taste of coffee and peppermint gum and the peanut butter and jelly you definitely had for lunch today. It was everything he loved about you, and he smiled into the kiss.

When he finally pulled away, he said, “Sorry, I interrupted your monologue.”

“It’s okay. Someone needed to before I got into the Hamlet soliloquy I prepared.”

He chuckled, grinning from ear to ear, and just that had a blush creeping to your cheeks. “I forgive you,” he whispered, leaning back in to ghost his lips all over your face. Your warm breath fanned his mouth. “Just don’t do that again. I know I don’t show it very often, but I’m secretly very …” He smiled softer this time, pecking just slightly on the corner of your mouth. “Sensitive.”

Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his sweatpants, wanting him all the more closer. “I know. I promise.” You brushed your nose over his. “If I ever ignore you for even a couple hours, you have full permission to annoy me on Slack.”

Wonwoo had to cover his mouth from letting out the loudest laugh possible, but it made you feel all the better to see him happy. You could spend forever seeing him this happy. You got up on your tiptoes just to stare at him more, to press yourself closer and feel his grin against your cheek.

But he was holding your face now, sighing down at you with a smile that almost made you swoon. “For the record,” he replied, “I love you too.” 

[wlwsoccerfics]

World Cup Semi-Finale Drama(StephCatleyXGwinnReader)

A/N: i Hope you enjoy this request.

Warnings: Lots of Angst and self doubt. Mental health struggles.

Summary: you are the captain of your national Team cause your sister is out injured and you Play against your wife's team. Australia wins and you blame yourself for the loss.

There it was. The final Whistle. You were Out of the world Cup. Losing in the semi Finals against Australia. Your wife's team. So there was now one Captain Catley that made it to the finals and one captain Catley that was doubting all of her skills. You were the second one.

You had been dreading this day. This Game. Everything felt like the world was ending. Which in a way it did for you. Not knowing If you would ever get another Chance to make it this far in the world cup.

Of course you were proud of your wife. She deserved it. But you felt like your team deserved it as well. You weren't a good captain and that's why they lost.

Your wife and her Team were celebrating. Well your wife was struggling. She was over the moon that she Made it to the finals but she saw you sitting on the pitch. Hiding your head in your Jersey. Your entire Body was shaking from the sobs. Your best friend Laura was sitting next to you. Hugging you close. Even though she was crying as well. Your sister made her way over to you as well.

"Babe..." Steph whispered out. You stood up quickly. Looking at your wife. Giving her a hug before pulling away just as quick.

"congrats. I am proud of you, stephy!" You told her, you couldn't even stop crying while talking her. She really wished she could make you feel better but she knew she couldn't. And the distance you put between you and her was a sign that you clearly couldn't deal with being close to her. Not while you had so many negative thoughts about yourself running through your mind.

"she is gonna come around." Your best friend and teammate whispered to your wife. Steph sighed sadly and walked away. Greeting Fans and giving Interviews. Thankfully you didn't have to give one. Sara & Klara did.

Harper ran over to you, hugging your legs so you picked her up.

"auntie Y/n. Don't cry! You can always win another Game!" She told you. It was the child Like innocene of not understanding how important this game was for you and your team. And that you felt like you also let the Fans down. Not only your Team. No you let everyone down.

"i will be okay. You are right. I can always try again." You told her. Then she just held onto you and you held onto her. She always managed to cheer you up or at least take a little bit of the pain away when things were rough. Giulia, your sister was rubbing your back, she was sad as well, you could tell because of how quiet she was and it looked like she was trying not to cry.

After a while you put Harper down cause she went back over to Mini and the rest of the team.

You and your team left the Pitch and walked inside to the changing rooms. You took a few deep breaths before you spoke up.

"i would like to apologize to you. I let you all down! I take full responsibility for what happened Out there! I wasn't a good Leader!" You told them.

"y/n...this isn't your fault! We are a Team! We win together and we lose together! It hurts right now! But we all were Out there and didn't make it work!" Sara told you.

"yeah Sara is right! Like i think you did so well as a Leader. You managed to Score the only Goal we Made. Yes we lost. 3-1 but this Is not your fault!" Felicitas stated.

"i am proud of you! You stepped in for me! You did a good Job! You were leading until the end. Sometimes things just don't work out in our favor!" Giulia answered.

Before you could speak up again, your other best friend showed up in the doorway. Kyra was also one of your teammates at Arsenal. Your coach also showed Up.

"y/n? I wanted to check in. Sorry about your loss Guys. But you all did a great Job." She said, walking over to you. Pulling you in for a hug. You hugged her back. Tearing up again. The rest of the Team congratulating her.

"thanks Kyra. I am proud of you!" You let her know. Hugging Kyra close. Sobbing again. "Where is Steph?" You asked her. Knowing you couldn't just let this go like this. You needed to talk to her. Maybe it was a good thing that Kyra showed up cause you were tempted to step down from international Duty for Germany and just Focus on your Club. It was something you had thought about before and this day kind of pushed you more towards it. But you were emotional right now so this might not be the right time to drop something like that in case you might regret it in a few days.

"she is in the changing room with the others. let's go See your wife. Cause she is struggling as well. She is over the moon we won but also sad and actually cried cause of the pain you are going through!" Kyra admitted. You frowned softly. You didn't intend to make your wife feel that way.

"Go See your wife!" Jule said.

"now!" Your sister stated.

"i agree!" You coach replied.

you left with Kyra to the other changing room.

"Steph? I have someone who wants to see you!" Kyra stated. You were greeting your wife and her team with a sad smile.

"hey, congrats guys." You spoke up.

"thanks. You did great as well. And we are all proud of you!" Mini told you.

"thanks you! It's appreciated." You answered and looked at your wife after replying. Walking over to her. Hugging her, giving her a soft kiss. Wiping away her tears. She hugged and kissed you back.

"auntie y/n is Not Mad at auntie Steph anymore!" Harper announced. You pulled away from the kiss and gently pushed a strand of hair behind your wife's ear.

"i was never mad at auntie Steph. She is the best. I was just hurt cause i didn't feel like i was a good captain and that i let the fans and the team down!" You tried to explain to her. The reply surprised everyone. They knew you were heartbroken over the loss, but they had no idea how you put all the blame on yourself.

"Baby. You fought hard. You were an amazing captain. Don't blame yourself!" Steph said, kissing your forehead gently.

"i am working on letting that go. It just...i am sorry for not reacting more positive and congratulate all of you earlier." You explained.

"what are you sorry for? Your emotions matter. I understand how difficult this must be for you, love!" Your wife replied. You kiss her her cheek.

"means alot to me to hear! I love you." You replied.

"i love you too. Always will!" Steph answered.

"i Love your love!" Macca said. You smiled at her. There still was a hint of sadness which was probably gonna stay for a bit but you genuinely did feel a bit better being in your wife's Arms.

You talked to your sister, your best friends and your wife about your thoughts on ending your international career. They listened and didn't judge. They also helped you figure out that you don't want to retire just yet.

You played for the third place against spain and won. Your wife and her Team were there to Support you.

Australia won the world Cup against England and of course you were there wearing your wife's Jersey. Sitting in the stands with Harper & Harley in your lap. You were so very proud of the entire team.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Can I request Matt and Frank with a neurodivergent reader who rocks to self-soothe when they’re overstimulated/anxious

Hello darling! Absolutely you can. I’m sorry it took me so long to respond, it’s been a WEEK. Wayyyy too many thoughts below the cut.

Let me just say, I think both Matt and Frank would be fantastic partners to someone who is neurodivergent. They both understand the constant frustration and sense of injustice and all that.

Matt

It would take a few weeks for Matt to even realize what you were doing, I think. He can hear the movement, but it wouldn’t really seem off to him, given how much time he spends with Foggy–who never STOPS moving.

Because he doesn’t have much experience with people who are neurotypical and not stressed beyond belief, he’s sort of used to people fidgeting and doing what they can to calm themselves.

I don’t think he would bring it up without someone else prompting. Maybe Foggy or Karen says something offhandedly, catching you by surprise. You hadn’t even noticed you were doing it at the time, swaying your weight to your heels and back to the balls of your feet, your body rocking with the movement.

“Don’t worry, sport! We’re coming.” Foggy laughed, shoving his arms into the sleeves of his coat as the four of you prepared to grab lunch.

You froze, suddenly regaining your self-awareness and immediately choking on a wave of embarrassment.

“Ready to go?” Matt’s voice startled you out of your stupor, making you jump

“Uh yes. Sorry.” The apology was instinctive, habitual. A symptom of perpetually feeling like your innocuous stims were troublesome for others.

“Why are you sorry?” Head tilting in the signature way it always did when he was concerned, Matt’s hand came to rest on your arm as he scanned you for evidence of harm.

“Nothing. We should catch up.” You murmured, hurrying out of Matt’s office to follow his business partners out of the building.

He’d let you deflect, but he’d set the thought in a special corner of his mind, privately vowing to bring it up at a later time.

After Foggy and Karen had escaped the pile of paperwork in the conference room, hesitantly allowing you and Matt to sort through it without them, he’d leap on the opportunity.

“Out with it,” The command is tender but stern, very classic Matt.

“Out with what?” Playing dumb worked sometimes, easier than an outright lie in front of a breathing polygraph machine.

“You’ve been biting your tongue since before lunch.” Apparently your go-to strategy wasn’t going to work this time. “What happened? Did I say something?”

The fear simmering below his concern caught your attention immediately. You had to answer now. “No nothing like that, Matty. I just..got in my head.”

“About what?” His wandering gaze is so earnest, you cave immediately. You tell him everything. The way you always felt different from those around you. The confusion and constant frustration when you inevitably misunderstood people. The pile of issues you had with various sounds and textures. The need to rock back and forth in place when you were nervous or overwhelmed, and the shame that forced you to stop when someone laughed or criticized you.

As always, Matt listens. Asks a question here or there, to help himself understand, but he seems to get it. There’s no judgement in his eyes, only total acceptance and a blaze of protective fury.

Once he knows about the stim, he would fiercely defend you in public. Scold people for staring and encourage you to do whatever you needed to do to feel comfortable.

Frank on the other hand would notice it VERY quickly.

This man is capital O Observant so he spots the rocking before you’re even together.

He has weird fidgety things he does too so he’s not judging whatsoever. He’s not interested in dissecting the root cause if it’s not hurting you or anyone else. So he jots it down in his mental notes about you and moves on past.

I think he’d also pick up on the soothing nature of it, notice that you seem calmer when you allow yourself to stim. So when he catches you in a bad mood or in a stressful moment, he’d pull you flush against his chest, one hand cradling your back while the other cups your head, and he’d rock the two of you together. (If you need to rock alone, he’d absolutely let you. But this personally would be nice for me so I’m including it lol)

If anyone ever commented on it, they’d find themselves on the other side of a MURDEROUS stare, urging them to quickly apologize and move on with their day

[chiaraforfun]

I think they both make fair points actually, because what @elenasalvatore1 is referred to what happened once they where together, and @jilyydoe to both before and during.

I've always been a big fan of Hinny, and I find this extremely true analysis a bit unsettling, lmao. However, I would like to clarify 3 points that are very subjective.

The first is that yes, Harry and Ginny probably wouldn’t have stayed together forever instead of what Rowling later decided, because they were likely together for insufficient reasons. At the same time, I don’t see Harry with Hermione as a good match (I could easily write a fanfic about it because it would work well as a romance, just to be clear). I don’t know if it’s because they literally grew up together, and I can’t fully support those couples who date young and end up marrying, but I never saw them as "in love".

They had a beautiful friendship, that's it.

However, it's also true that I love Romione, which goes against that last thought, BUT there has always been that... I don’t know... distance? The friendship that Hermione and Harry shared is not the same as that between Hermione and Ron. You could almost feel that tension from the start. So, I guess it makes less sense to me.

Point two: Ginny in the books is very different from the films, where they made her too flat, and while it may be true that the premises of their relationship were somewhat toxic (okay, maybe a bit more than somewhat), them being together makes sense. I reiterate, not forever, because I believe they would inevitably break up sooner or later, but in the books, it makes sense, and she is fantastic. I mean, she is mean to Fleur behind her back, but so is the rest of them beside a few if I remember properly. It's not an excuse but I think I remember Ginny and Hermione both making fun with Mrs Weasley.

She makes fun of Ron but let's be realistic, I did the same with my brother and he did the same with me. I'm not proud and growing up we changed but let's not forget she's still young!

All the dynamics makes sense if you think of her age.

We are so used to see the golden trio as "older" because of what they fight but in truth they are not.

So I guess I do give her a bit of an excuse for her behaviour. Also because she was funny, I'm sorry.

And then, as @jilyydoe pointed out, Harry's last thought before dying was about her so—why not!

Point three: for once, we’re not reading about the extremely predictable relationship between the protagonist and another main character. I mean, come on, let’s break away a bit. I love f/m friendship!

True friends, not romanticised.

Point 4 (that I forgot about): I really don't think that Ginny loves because of his popularity.

Surely that’s the reason she had a crush on him in the first year, but I don’t think that’s the reason she fell in love with him. I believe the story of the younger sister falling in love with her older brother's friend is an old classic, but there’s a deeper reason behind it. And it's the same thing here, among many reasons, right? I mean, Harry was constantly with Ron, he spent a lot of time with the rest of the brothers, and it often happened that he was at the Weasley house. In my opinion, she started to fall in love with him precisely by spending time together, gradually more and more, especially since at the beginning she was a bit pushed aside by her brother, lol. Then, indeed, she tried to have her own experiences and well, we all know how it went from there, toxic dynamics included.

But, I don’t think she fell in love with him for popularity. That, I would say, was just the spark that ignited everything else

I get all your other points and yess it's ruined a bit my idea, I won't idolise their relationship anymore (😭 ), and I get it, it's not that perfect, but maybe that's why I like Hinny so much; it’s unpredictable. It’s a couple that means nothing from a distance, but for them, it’s everything.

I don’t know, it makes sense to me, and I apologize for not being able to explain myself better. English is not my native language, and unfortunately, I don’t know how else to convey these concepts.

P.S.: The thing that makes me cringe a little about Hinny, I have to admit, is that it gives me a bit of a “mommy issues” vibe because of the hair, lmao.

Ya'll really gonna come in here and tell me you love Harry Potter but you hate Hinny.

You're going to tell me to my face that you love Harry James Potter, a man who has been through so much. Lost his whole entire family., and you're going to deny him his greatest source of comfort.

Are you actually going to tell me that you think ferret face or someone who Harry has described as a sister to him is a better fit for him than someone who makes him happier than he can ever remember being.

He was willing to die happily just thinking about her kissing him. Literally his last dying thought but you're gonna come here and tell me that you hate true love.

Please.

[dcxdpdabbles]

In the spirit of commenting more on fics/supporting authors, I’ve finally decided to stop lurking, and say, hey, hi, hello there!

How are you doing today?

I just wanted to say you’re one of my all-time favorite DPxDC writers—in fact, I’ve been following you and your work since The Bakery is a Front!…right?'s first chapter back in June 2023, and it’s been such an amazing ride getting to read all of the wonderful stories you’ve created! They’re all so very creative (and hilarious!), the pacing is always great, and I love how your way of storytelling is easygoing and mellow; it’s so casual and cozy and easy to get into (for lack of a better phrasing)!

And can I just say how much I adore the way you write each and every single character, and their reactions/inner thoughts/dialogue about whatever’s going down in the plot, be it an ongoing story, oneshot, the tags, or those adorable little “From a fic I never wrote” tidbits? 10/10 every single time! (Your dialogue’s super great!!!!!!!)

I can’t count the number of times I’ve gone and reread everything you’ve published, nor how much time passes by whenever I do so. All I know is that my worries go away whenever I read your stories; they’re quite comforting!

Your stories provide so much inspiration, it’s even gotten to the point where I made a mini analysis for Danny’s Grill, and two playlists for Danny Fenton’s Ex and The Adopted Son (though that last one hasn’t been updated, since I haven’t had a chance to officially finish the last three? parts lol; that, and both playlists share a lot of the same songs), though all of those were either unpublished or kept private.

(They’ve also given way to many plot bunnies lol)

It’s a sentiment that bears repeating: you are an amazing writer, you’re so big brained, and I love everything you’ve ever written; don’t let anybody tell you otherwise!!!

I wasn’t sure how to end this, aside from hoping you have a good day or whatever time it may be for you, so I’ll leave off with a quote from one of my favorite songs, from one of my all-time favorite musicals, that’s hopefully… er, comforting? Wasn’t sure how to describe it (and if it isn’t, then I apologize for that):

“Just keep moving on. Anything you do, let it come from you, then it will be new. Give us more to see.” — Dot (Sunday in the Park with George, “Moving On,”)

SUOGHSOHUOGFUOHUGFWUEH

THIS WAS SUCH A NICE THING TO READ!!!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I can't believe you enjoyed those aus so much you made playlists and mini analysis, but it makes me so happy that you did.

[calamitoustide]

I just had the mental image of one of those "a and b already know each other but they don't know it fic partially because one of them is trans" but it's not just Regulus that's trans

It's all of them: James and Sirius are mtf, Regulus and Remus are tfm. There is not one name that is still the same as it was back when they first used to know each other

ohhh you do know I love myself some mtf James... thinking thought!

I've been thinking a lot about childhood friends to lovers jeg recently and I think like if they were all friends it would be interesting! They would be younger like maybe around seven or so when they were first all friends with each other. Sirius, Jamie, and Remus all walked over to this park together when they met and Sirius obviously started bringing Regulus to tag around too.

It was only for a summer, and according to them one of the best summers they've ever had. Every day was hazy and sweet. Filled with that childhood nostalgia and innocence one can only have when you're that young. They'd walk through the wood and Sirius and Jamie would argue over who could climb to the top of one of the trees the fastest. I've never liked Remus and Regulus as friends and I still see that even as children Regulus argues with Remus all the time, but more in a younger sibling kinda way. Regulus always needs to be right even when he's obviously wrong.

One day James brings these little wooden swords for them all to play make-pretend. They'd be pirates or warriors, whatever their little hearts desired.

One day Sirius would beg Remus to bring in some of his princess dress-up clothes. Neither Remus nor Regulus would want to wear them, but Sirius and Jamie would. They were too young to fully understand why they wanted to so badly, but they were children it didn't matter. They both wore those tiaras and Sirius put on the dress and then kept asking Remus if he thought she looked pretty in it. Nothing else mattered. It was only the four of them.

They'd go and scream into the wind if they wanted to. They would sing and dance as the sun went down and the fireflies came out.

Some days Regulus would be overstimulated by everything, even if it wasn't because of the group. Their group was their little oasis away from everything but sometimes home grew over top of it. So he'd be quiet and keep to himself and say he wants to be alone, but Jamie wouldn't care. She'd sit right down beside him and ask the other two to go ahead. They'd stay in their little burrow in between the trees the entire day. Jamie's only goal being to make Regulus smile at least once. And she always succeded.

Of course, every perfect summer has to end eventually. They couldn't stay like that forever. Remus moved to another town because of his father's work. Sirius and Regulus were locked up as soon as their parents found out they were sneaking out every day. Jamie slowly stopped waiting for them to see her at the playground. That was that. The summer was gone and they were never supposed to see each other again.

They didn't remember each other's faces all that well, it was hazy, and in time even the names were a faint memory. But when they were old enough and Sirius and Regulus had left each other, they'd go on their computers trying to find anything, a sign that the rest of them were there. Of course, because they all changed their names there was nothing.

I'm not sure how they'd all meet again. It would be the pairs though, Jamie would meet Regulus. Sirius would meet Remus, and they'd both feel this spark. They wouldn't understand why that spark was there, they just felt so comfortable around the other person. Like they knew them all their life.

When they were together Regulus and Jamie would one day drive down the street to which the park belongs and James would point out and explain the story of the four of them. Regulus would force her to stop the car immediately which she did of course Regulus was pulling her arm all the way into the forest and he'd test her as if she was lying to him. What did they do here? What did she tell him here? When they were playing pirates who was always the damsel in distress needing to be rescued?

With Sirius and Remus though I feel like it would come in the middle of the night. They'd be lying beside each other and Sirius would have this feeling and she couldn't sleep so she just told Remus the story of her old friendships in the forest. She would tell him she swears she's close to them like they're trying to send her a sign or something. Remus would look at her like she was an idiot for being so close to the truth and not seeing it... well first he would look at her in disbelief considering he had no fucking clue Sirius was the angel he met when he was young his mind told him he made up, and then he'd tease her for it.

Eventually, the group would work their way together again. They'd find the other pairs and vow to meet back at the park at sunrise to spend the day together. They expect to go to a coffee shop or something, but instead they end up spending the entire day in the woods, just like they were kids. They didn't even notice the time flying by until the sun went down.

[abigaillustrations]

Ten years at war and not a single loss? Must be some kind of record.

[impossibleprincess35]

Just to clarify my previous thoughts..

A lot of the narrative around Satine and the "crimes" she's accused of in the fandom comes from the corrupt men who are in her government - Almec, her Prime Minister, and Pre Vizsla, Governor of Concordia (also white).

You are ABSOLUTELY right about white supremacy on the rise, and the white washing of clones is not fucking cool - and I will also die on the hill that if Satine had been animated differently, she would be a much easier pill to swallow by the fandom.

Filoni, himself, was quoted somewhere saying that they wanted a blonde in SW, so that's how we got Satine's design; and animators have also talked about the budget constraints leading to reusing Nordic-esque Mandalorian looking citizens for the scenes in Sundari. *SIGH*

So, yes, I totally see the problem at face value - and I acknowledge that, and genuinely, I can understand why she is an off-putting character for many and I can see why in a rush to judgment, someone would look at her and be like, "Well, this is fucking racist."

But my overall issue with takes calling Satine racist or assuming her to be racist is that the only information in canon that you can use to make that assumption comes from the mouths of WHITE men who are in her cabinet/government, later revealed to be corrupt and working together to undermine her and put Mandalore in grave danger.

She's the only one catching strays about genocide, racism, and white washing, when all she wanted to do was rebuild her world and give them time to bounce back from years of civil war and internal conflict.

The optics are absolutely bad, and I give you that, just as the optics and tropes all throughout the SW franchise are fucking horrid (I cannot believe half of the shit that got green lit in the prequels; hell, the opening scene of "The Phantom Menace" makes my jaw drop, it reeks of racism).

Genuinely, though, I'm sorry for my response hitting you the wrong way or making you feel as though your opinion is not valid.

I am pigeon-holed on an aspect of the argument (the sexism and misogyny that surrounds Satine in the fandom, and how that feeds into the claims of racism, genocide, etc., against her) and I think you're looking at it with a broader lens at the very real racial connotations that the optics provide; and that broader lens is incredible valuable.

I apologize for coming in hot with my response.

unpopular opinion but i'd like Satine Krtyze more if she wasn't white. The optics of a white woman ruling an initially diverse group of people, and claiming that their old culture was wrong and violent is not a good optics look.

The implications that a white women banished those people of color, denounces their very real culture, and believes she's better than them was such a bad look.

The implication that it took a white woman to rescue a planet full of people of color from their barbaric ways is very, very bad.

I think in general Satine did really great things for Mandalore, and she was able to keep peace in a time that was incredibly difficult. She was an amazing ruler.

but i think it was a poor decision of the writers to make a blond haired, blue eyed white woman the one who outlaws the existence of the previous Mandalorian culture, who were largely people of color.

And to call them all violent individuals, when we see how rich and intricate those Mandalorian are through people such as Sabine Wren, Jango and Din Djarin, both non-white, is just very bad.

It's strange when the face of the old Mandalorian are all brown people, who's culture and tradition is solely viewed as violent and the face of the new, better Mandalorian is a white woman who disparages their culture every chance she gets.

tl:dr: Satine is a great ruler of Mandalore, but the optics of her outlawing and suppressing the original Mandalorians who are largely people of color is very, very bad and why i do not like Satine.

And it's fitting that Sabine Wren, the Mandalorian who mixes her culture with art, calls her weapon The Duchess.

and maybe this is less of a critique on satine herself and more of the insane choices that led to her being who she was

[astrolotte]

Genuinely intrigued by the potential of Peri and Irep's dynamic but only in a platonic way so I end up not vibing with the fandom's portrayal of it 😔😔😔

(No but listen LISTEN they were kinda-almost-friends when we last saw them in FOP, yeah? Now they're enemies, with both actively fighting each other, and Irep going so far as to try and kill Peri's parents. What happened? When? What influenced it? Did they ever become friends, or did it nosedive the moment the cameras turned off? What about Sammy? How do Irep's parents factor into this? Could it ever be fixed? There's just so much we haven't seen, and romance just feels like too easy a solution to me. Let their friendship be easy to break, fragile. Let them have to work to keep the connection. Fairies and Anti-Fairies are literally made to be opposites, so what happens when two genuinely and truly become friends?)

((and yeah I guess a lot of this could factor into a romantic angle but ALAS the fandom seems to be leaning heavily into the funny toxic yaoi angle 😔 I don't mind it! By all means, please have your very harmless fun! But it ain't my jam :P Perhaps I'll have to write a oneshot myself...))

(((see tags for more rambles i guess. whoops a bitch spoke too much in there as he always does)))

[dopepoisonivyoncrack]

Redrawn of the popular wedding photo for @nagumoan

Thank you for allowing me to draw this, I had a lot of fun! I was smiling ear to ear the whole time, you two are The Serotonin Couple for me! ❤️ Traditional art: colored pencils on 150 g/m2 paper. Sketch underneath.

[malkaleh]

I keep trying to write an update and then being embarrassed about it and feeling like I’m trauma dumping on people by updating and I just..I know it’s on me to manage my crap, I know. I am trying (not very well but I’m trying) and it’s just…I don’t know. I don’t even know.

[pupstim]

Q!Characters and RP perspective with slight meta flavoring

But I just love that the islanders immediately got a new mystery and Bad is there to help. He's helping even though he doesn't have too, even though they broke his heart yesterday by putting him in jail without a trial or even a chance to explain his side and no one listened to him! BUT HE'S STILL HELPING, STILL LETTING THEM IN HIS HOUSE! Just uuuuugh, I'm not over yesterday but seeing Bad interacting with everyone because of the mystery and they're all just going along with it, Both parties being wary of one another, poking jabs and just subtle threats, I love it despite how much it hurts. Trust has been broken but they all care too much for one another to not help each other out.

now meta flavoring but I absolutely adore what the CC's and admins are doing, cc!Bad got dogpiled by fans and was about to just back out of the politics and stuff and I feel this is a good way to just... let Bad play. He was in his element yesterday, he had so much fun and I think we all had fun watching him! This lets him kick off a villain arc if he wants or just be on the run and just get back into doing whatever the ehck he wanted! And now there's an island wide mystery going on and Bad's still on the run but at the same time sinking his teeth into this mystery like all of us. It's been a lot of fun watching the last few days I'm so proud and happy for what these guys are cooking up

[rin-chan32]

THE FUCKING MADOKA WORMS ARE BACK

It’s like 4 in the morning and I couldn’t help but look at the trailer up and down cause I can’t fucking sit still one thing that I noticed is that they changed their designs, where they still have the same silhouette but it’s just tweaked here and here. Like in the poster you can see how Homura is wearing leggings/thigh highs rather than the tights that she’s known for. But the same goes for everyone else, they’re just changed here and there, but nothing is drastic. You can still tell whose who, which is what I like about the changes. But also how, from what it I can tell, it looks like there’ll be some more casual outfits and what not too. Which I’m very curious to know how that will all play into it as well.

im also like, in the trailer itself, but also like in the rebellion itself everything is so. Liminal and stretched out. Like when Sayaka, Hitomi, and Madoka were walking under the flower arches and how Homura was sitting in that throne thing and it just kept expanding.

I’m also curious to see how the phone is gonna play into the movie since it seems like it’s gonna be a huge part of it. Like in the poster is one of the biggest things outside of Homura herself (both Homura’s to be exact), and it was the first thing was heard in the actual trailer as well. But thinking about the paradise regained analysis I watched from Wendigoon forever ago, I’m curious to see if that will play a part in it. ESP since Rebellion was based on paradise lost, but I’m sure it will have some role in it somehow. But also looking at it in the idea of this movie being based off paradise regained, which role would Homura herself be in? Since the story is about heaven being regained and god trying to deceive Jesus along the way. Would she be the devil trying to keep the way things are, or would she be Jesus for trying to regain the heaven, or the law of cycles, as it was before.

But another thing I find interesting is that Homura was the one who was featured the most out of everyone there. Which is super exciting considering that it’s nodding towards Homura having so much inner conflict with herself, so much that it shows it with herself on the poster. Madoka is hidden in the background, while she is going to confront herself. Would this mean that she, the Homura post episode 12, still holding onto that hope Madoka gave her (hense why she has the ribbon in her hair), is fighting herself, as in Homura in Rebellion post-giving up on that hope striving for her own path, in what she believes in? When Homura asked Madoka if she was willing to be a magical girl at rebellion and said that “one day we will become enemies”, was she in fact talking to herself about it the whole time? Is she the big bad she’s been looking for throughout all these timelines?

Another thing is that, I’m curious about what’s in the phone. It looks like a spine and then a hand, which automatically brings me back to Homulily and how her body was all bone. Does this imply that she’ll be able to do what Sayaka did with Octavia, simply call on her witch whenever she needs it? Or does this imply that it will be something more sinister, either about herself or the world around her. I’m leaning towards the former since the top of the phone looks like a salamander, which is something that has been shown with her time and time again. So I’m just curious to see where this turns out cause I’m just. HOLY FUCKING SHIT OH MY GOD?????

[devotedlystrangewizard]

i love going onto websites that arent tumblr and seeing people talk about getting all achievements thinking "ugh yeah the honor mode achievement must be a nightmare" only to get slapped in the face with the reminder that i (guy who willingly fucked the emperor) am an outlier who should not be counted

[killshotspectre]

sigh i love just feeling so so stupid and like i've done something wrong after every dnd game no matter what