#i have enough to hit the 50/50 rn and it’s killing me

[electric-plants]

4.2 is going to finish downloading for me in like 20 minutes so this is me manifesting the ability to resist pulling for furina for her entire run i am strong willed and have so much self control

[highvern]

endpoint

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst, FWB to idiots to lovers

warnings:  cumshot/facial, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex (m & f receiving), rough sex, breath play (choking), mentions of exhibitionism, face fucking, virgin wonwoo mentions, idiots in love, edging (emotionally), impact play, sir kink (brief), alcohol consumption

Length: ~19.5k

Note: thank you to @gyuswhore my love, my life, for suffering through this with me. this fic is set in the same universe as her gyu fic for this collab so check it out (threat). also thank u @haologram and everyone else who beta'd this for me bc im sensitive. follow @camandemstudios for more fics!!! i will come back later and tag the people who commented on the teaser but rn im getting day drunk hehehe

summary: Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.

collab m.list || m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

“What’s the difference between a proton and an electron again?”

“Shoot me in the fucking head,” Wonwoo whispers harshly.

He’s a seat over, a laptop covered in gaming stickers and a coffee cup containing a lethal amount of caffeine occupying the space atop the narrow lecture desk. It’s a feign to productivity. His screen is split between thesis notes and a countdown to a new video game release that unfortunately hits 0 in the middle of lecture. 

Dr. Wagner’s intro to chemistry  course isn’t difficult – freshman aside – which is why you and Wonwoo agreed to be her teaching assistants. Easy money and a way to get in her good graces come grad school application season. You’ve TA’ed the same course since sophomore year for different professors but it’s all the same; the metaphorical killing field before hopeful freshmen become cannon fodder in the real trial of will: O Chem. 

“Me first,” you whisper back. 

Wonwoo slumps in his chair, opening the shared drive keeping track of problem areas to touch on in lab hours, and typing “check for basic brain activity” under the class To-Do list. 

Fair enough. If they can’t understand the basics this far into the semester then you two are in for a world of hurt for the next practical. You're in for a world of hurt come next study hall when half of them will complain about failing their quiz this morning despite having the answers spoon fed straight from the notes.

[09:48] You:  be nice

[09:48] wonwoo: if they were smarter, id be nicer

[09:48] You: maybe they’re scared stupid

It wouldn’t be too far off. One time a freshman burst into tears while asking Wonwoo to check their practice work during lab hours. Wonwoo swears he didn’t say anything and the kid looked on the verge of a mental breakdown if the wind blew the wrong way.

[09:48] wonwoo: from what?

[09:48] You: the fact ur trying to kill them with your mind

[09:49 ]wonwoo : i wouldn’t kill them

[09:49] wonwoo: just maim or seriously injure so they dont come to class and say dumb shit

Dr. Wagner fields more questions in front of the powerpoint. More ‘dumb shit’ Wonwoo rolls his eyes at with such obvious disgust even you feel chastised. Luckily, no one can see his face from the front row besides you.

[09:49] You: you wonder why they like me more

[09:50] wonwoo: i know why they like you more

[09:50] You: oh?

Stifling an eye roll of your own you throw a glance his way as the next message comes through,

[09:50] wonwoo: nice ass

“Alright, Y/N and Wonwoo will be passing out the study guide for the next exam. We still have a few weeks so don’t worry about the back half but try and review the modules we’ve done so far and bring questions for them during study hours,” Dr. Wagner prattles off.

The gigantic stack of printouts is split in half for you and Wonwoo to disperse around the massive lecture hall. Over one hundred students sit in this lecture; the unfortunate ones who were forced to take a 9 AM course three days a week. Half look like their brain is melting out of their ears, other’s clearly haven’t paid attention at all, and a few are sound asleep. It’s Friday after all. They probably didn’t get back from their Thirsty Thursday night out until a few hours ago.

You wouldn’t even be here if Wonwoo wasn’t a built in insurance policy.

Dr. Wagner collects her things and heads towards the front exit with a cheery, “Have a good weekend!”

“There's a party at Sigma tonight,” Wonwoo shares as you both pack your own bags. The next class is already shuffling through the doors to claim their seats.

“I have work until eleven.”

“After?”

Shouldering your bag, you head towards the door where the next class is already trickling in to find their seats. “Don’t you have a tournament tomorrow?”

“I only have to be at the party for like an hour. I can come and walk you home.”

“Fine,” you nod. “But bring your laptop. I think Chan fucked up the last set of results and we need to fix them.”

It’s not unusual for Wonwoo to spend his Friday nights with you; or another night for that matter. He lives in a dingy frat house on the edge of campus with twenty other guys. It’s an act of mercy. A long standing tradition from the week before freshman year when you two were the only chemistry majors in your orientation group and that turned into a clumsy hook up at an upperclassman’s party. You didn’t know he’d be a virgin and he didn’t know your high school boyfriend dumped you less than twenty four hours before you left for college (but not before you lost your own virginity in the backseat of his car). 

It’d been…not good. 

Wonwoo was awkward and you were unsure. But he was sweet under the bravado; walked you home that night, pretended he wasn’t interested in the fact your roommate never moved in, leaving the suite empty. But he wasn’t a good enough actor to feign nonchalance when you invited him upstairs. Turns out sex was a lot better the second time around, in a bed that didn’t belong to an unknown upperclassman who could’ve burst in any minute. 

Wonwoo isn’t your boyfriend. You’re too busy piecing together the ten year plan concocted since junior year of highschool to even think about such frilly ideas. There’s barely enough time as it is; you’ve got work, a full class schedule, TAing, and all the random clubs you’ve wiggled your way into to pad your resume. 

And he’s busy too. Navigating a sports scholarship and one of the hardest majors left barely enough time for him to wipe his own ass, let alone date. Then came research hours and TAing and the fact volleyball, apparently, wasn’t just a one semester sport, there were scrimmages, workouts, and tournaments out of season. 

It’s been over three years of your arrangement which works best because you don’t have to spend precious brain power deciphering if some random guy you went out with once is playing hard to get or just straight up not interested. You have Wonwoo. He’s simple. 

So what you have now, friends. Who hook up. And work together. Who also happens to be applying for the same PhD program for next year. Not together but at the same time.

The application website stares back from your laptop with horror. 

It’s still too early to submit any materials but it’s been highlighted in bold red in your calendar since two years ago. Everything is ready to go the second it opens—except Dr. Wagner’s recommendation. It’s the sole reason you (and Wonwoo) agreed to be her TAs this semester; she’s one of the program’s most notorious alum, her words as good as gold in securing a spot. 

Someone hacks a cough and shatters the eerie silence of the library. The backtrack of sparse typing and the custodian shuffling around to have been the only company throughout your shift. No one would choose to rot at any of the weathered study tables late on a Friday night so early in the semester. 

With the abundance of free time, you fixed Chan’s mistakes in his set of trials easily, no thanks to Wonwoo who still hasn’t shown up. It’s good though. Your stoichiometry homework is submitted three days before the deadline and the mountain of emails clogging your inbox from hopeless undergrads is in the single digits. Half the labs from last week are graded for Dr. Wagner’s approval, the other half can wait until Sunday night. A long weekend of sleep awaits once the clock hits eleven and you’re free to run home.

Wonwoo stumbless in five minutes before the clock runs out. His duffle for tomorrow is slung over his shoulder and he’s already dressed for bed, rumpled sweats and a hat he definitely wore to the party with high hopes to cut out early. 

“You’re late,” you acknowledge, cramming your belongings back into your bag. He’s close enough to get a whiff of. “And you’re drunk.”

“I am not drunk,” he argues.

The lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips says otherwise but it isn’t an argument worth having. All you want to do is get home and pass out.

He shoulders you bag, presenting his hand when you insist you can carry it on your own. The dry warm of his palm against your cold is pleasant enough you don’t argue as you tug him towards the automatic doors.

“Have a goodnight, Mr. Lee,” you call towards the security desk.

The guard, old enough to be your grandfather, calls back, “You too, sweetheart.”

Out in the balmy night, you tug Wonwoo down the street in the direction of your apartment. Two blocks and then a right turn leaving you outside the dowdy building with hallways that constantly reek of weed and new paint smell.

A pack of freshmen girls heading somewhere, marked by their matching uniform of jeans and black tops of various coverage, crowd the sidewalk straight ahead. Someone is crying, one is on the phone, and a few others stand dumbly waiting for their next movie like zombies — all incredibly wasted. You barrel through them without acknowledgement. A few drunken bitter ‘bitch’s hit your back but you ignore them to focus on the man struggling to push through the crowd without accidentally shoulder checking any of them.

On the other side, you ask, “Have fun at the party?”

“Some pledge puked on Jihoon’s stuff,” he huffs, nose scrunching.

“May he rest in peace.”

Wonwoo sways from side to side from the weight of your bag but also whatever radioactive mix was served at the party. The stairs provide an extra challenge since the elevator has been broken for weeks but thankfully it’s a short trip to the second floor.

He presents your belongings with routine ease once the front door of your apartment looms ahead. Music from the floor above shakes the walls; hopefully you can make up for the lack of sleep tomorrow morning.

There isn’t much space inside the four walls you call home – the ‘kitchen’ which is a single counter with a stove and fridge you’re barely around to use, fifteen feet away your bed in the corner, bordered by your desk at the foot cramped with a spray of errant papers and books you’ve been too busy to deal with. The monitor doubles as a TV and finally a tiny loveseat with a broken leg replaced by a stack of hard covers completes the room.

You beeline for the bathroom to wash away the filth of a long day and Wonwoo, keeping on trend, follows into the cramped space.

“Can I help you?” you ask, shirt tossed into the bin in the corner.

Wonwoo’s shirt goes the same and then his pants after a brief struggle. “You know I sleep better when I shower.” 

True.

“And I doubt you're gonna let me in your bed if I’m dirty.”

Even truer.

The water is still cold when you step in but the man glued to your back fights the worst of the chill away. Goosebumps prickle along your skin but have nothing to do with the vent that points directly into the stall (whoever designed the apartments must have had a sick sense of humor) and everything to do with Wonwoo’s mouth tracing the curve of your shoulder.

Forcing the heat blooming between your legs down to a simmer, you focus on washing up and getting into bed before it rolls into a boil and you do something stupid that’ll only leave you and Wonwoo struggling for balance. 

Shower sex is a dangerous sport. Shower sex with Wonwoo has left you both with bruises. Drunken shower sex with Wonwoo will get you both killed.

Soft hums tickle your neck as you clean up. There isn’t enough room for two people to stand in the spray at once so you take turns hogging the steamy water and braving the frigid cold until the last bits of soap swirl the drain.

Even when drying off you stay in each other’s orbit until the need for clothes and sleep drive you both out of the bathroom and back into the equally cramped space of your room.

It’s not until you’re laying on the mattress, darkness snug on all sides, that you feel Wonwoo roll atop you with purpose.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Wonwoo hums into your stomach, fingers crawling up your bare legs.

“That,” you inhale at the nip of his teeth on the curve of your thigh, “doesn’t feel like nothing to me.”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer but gives you plenty of time to brush him off while bruising your skin. You don’t. Instead you sink deeper into the blankets and let him push your shirt up until you're bare once more.

The fuzziness of alcohol lingers in his veins – just enough that he smiles into the strip of skin above your panties as you sigh and arch under the delicious weight of wandering hands and mouth at your nipple.

“Wonwoo,” you sigh and he’s up and kissing you with eager clumsiness.

A familiar prod at your core through his boxers crashes bubbles through your veins. You felt it in the bathroom but now is when you finally get to indulge with subtle grinds Wonwoo meets in his own search for friction. 

“Don’t you need to be up—ugh—early tomorrow?”

He kisses you slowly, tongue dragging along your bottom lip until your mouth opens under his. It burns you from the inside out. Mindlessly you shift your legs to frame his hips better but Wonwoo kisses deeper and all you can think about is giving in to whatever scheme he’s working up to have you both naked and panting.

He leans back a fraction to speak, giving in when you chase his lips before ducking to nip at your ear and mumbling a response. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I will worry about it when you snooze twenty alarms and your team hunts me down because I smothered their star player with a pillow,” you snort but heat under a squeeze of his fingers at your sides.

“Sleep when I’m done with this.”

“And what is ‘this’ exactly?”

A harsh suck at your jaw has your stomach tight. heavy and thick until need drips down your spine to coil in your gut and the emptiness between your thighs becomes unignorable. He hides pleased groans in the curve of your neck until you force a hand under the band of his underwear. Eyes opening, you watch the muscles of his back tense and flex as he rocks against you, fucking your fist greedily.

It doesn’t last long. Wonwoo gets antsy under the taunting pressure of your thumb and descends back down your body with burning lips. “Take your shirt off.”

“It’s cold,” you complain but do as he asks. 

He traces your figure clad in nothing but your glasses and a soiled pair of panties; damp at the crotch from his attention and Wonwoo slips a finger under the hem to tease you that inch closure to depravity.

Wonwoo laves against the hickey on the inside of your thigh from a week ago, it’s yellowed and perfectly shaped like his mouth. It’s tender under his attention, even the gentle tracing on his nose forcing you to wince in discomfort. 

He coos, kissing it before skating back to the hem of your panties, lips vibrating against your skin. “Sorry I didn’t come earlier.”

Why he brings it up now is a mystery. Or the fact he brings it up at all. Life happens. You’ve blown him off more than once for a late night in the library; no hard feelings.

“It’s fine,” you sigh as he tugs the last scrap of fabric off your body and pushes your knees up to display you like a meal.

Spreading you apart, he lands a wet kiss at your entrance before teasing with the heat of his tongue. 

In a beg for sanity you twist a tight grip in his hair; a tangled mess from his drunk endeavors. Wonwoo pushes harder, drowns in your taste with enthusiasm as you moan and sigh. 

“F-fuck.”

He won’t ask if it’s good. He knows it is. Nearly four years of hook ups attunes him to your pleasure, a well rehearsed routine that has you both ache in the best way. 

You lose yourself in shaking breaths, feet planted to drive up into his mouth for more. He sucks your clit and nearly gets his head crushed by your thighs. It doesn’t take much and he knows it. 

You chant ‘gonna cum’ in choked groans that almost die at the edge of your teeth but Wonwoo hears and takes it as permission to pull out the stops, hand at your thing with a harsh grip and fingers sinking home.

He’s memorized all the signs of your want; the wrecked echo of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you a clear tell. He flattens his tongue, holding steady as grind straight into mindless bliss. Spit pools and drips and slips down onto the sheets. Wonwoo hums praise, unintelligible but you vaguely know it’s something that’d make you blush you could hear it over the pounding in your ears.

Back arching, your vision flares white at the edges and when Wonwoo realizes what's happening he makes it last until your fist ball up and you’re floating.

Wonwoo backs down as you twitch through the tail end, sloppy kisses to your clit that could knock into another fit if he isn’t careful. But even as you tremble the only thing you want is the weight of his cock in your mouth, or inside you. You aren’t picky as long as you get to feel him cum too.

You finally manage to pry Wonwoo from between your legs with an ankle to his ribs. You’re not done with him despite the fatigue hanging around your shoulders like dead weight. He angles over top of you for a kiss that tastes too much like pussy for your liking but it’s hot knowing he’s covered in you so you push until his shoulders meet the sheets and you can claim his lap.

His dick strains through his underwear, preening when you rock back into the heat. His nostrils flare when you grab for it, stiff enough to sink onto easily. 

“Oh god,” he groans, head digging back into the pillows to watch you like a goddess.

His fingers web across the tops of your thighs, a harsh grip keeping you flat as he grinds up into the wet heat of your pussy. You whimper and sigh for him; all the sounds he loves to hear. You squeeze your chest, taut nipples framed between the slants of your fingers to entice him until he reaches around and knocks you forward for the sole purpose of taking one in his mouth.

Your eyes roll back, jaw locked open, drowning in the stretch and the bite of his mouth and the hands squeezing your ass so hard it hurts. Wonwoo groans, throaty and desperate. “Gonna cum. Wanna cum in you. Holy shit.”

He gets you on your back. Too absorbed in his own end, he’s dead weight with his tongue between your lips and harsh thrusts that take him right to the edge. It gives that grit against your clit that means you’ll come too, soaked in cum and spit and sweat.

You wish he’d flip you on your front and fuck you with a hand between you shoulder blades and the other tangled in your hair. That’s the kind of fuck that’d leave you satisfied the entire weekend he’s busy but he’s running out of steam just doing this, picking up speed in his thrust, the clap of bodies filling the room.

Chanting his name like a broken record, ‘Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo’ breathy but loud enough your neighbors will leave another passive aggressive note on your door come morning, all you can think about is his cum. On you, in you. A sick part wants him to pull out and cum on your face – he hasn’t, not in a long time because priorities and responsibilities and you're usually lucky to have even five minutes alone before someone needs either of you. But you want it. God do you want it.

“Cum on my face,” you whimper. There’s drool on your lips and sweat in your hairline. Even if he doesn't, you'll need another shower anyway.

A strangled noise escapes from between his teeth at your neck. Then he’s driving forward so hard you burn; painfully so, mouth locked in a silent choke. Your orgasm rips through your insides, jagged at the edges where Wonwoo fucks himself into your guts. 

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, pulling away and replacing the grip of your pussy with a tight fist as he straddles your chest. 

The taste of cock floods your tongue, heady and intoxicating. You get one, two drags against the stiff head and then he’s cumming, dripping his spend over your lips, then your cheek, then your glasses because he’s a sick freak. Even in the dim light from the window he twitches at the sight. You open your mouth and replace his hold, moaning as more comes to the surface. You swallow down as far as he’ll go which isn’t much in this position but it’s the thought that counts.

Wonwoo grinds to halt with an occasional kick of his hips that leaves you choking – rigid limbs locking in place until he melts with sticky satisfaction. 

He’s up and off, your glasses in hand for a thorough cleaning, not even bothering to flick on any of the lights but you hear the sink running in the bathroom before he comes padding back.

“God,” you whimper in disgust. “That’s so gross.”

“You’re the one who asked for it,” Wonwoo snorts, soft passes of a damp cloth on your skin focused on getting you clean enough to sleep.

“Because it’s hot but you aim for shit.”

Wonwoo tosses the rag somewhere, flopping down and pulling you close as possible with a kiss on your forehead. “Next time I’ll aim for your hair.”

“Bitch.”

The sound of music from upstairs pulses through your head as you drift off, Wonwoo asleep on your chest, fingers laced together on the sheets beside your indecipherably intertwined bodies.

Your week is divided into a simple pattern. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you wake bright and early to attend Dr. Wagner’s chem lecture and then stay on campus attending every other class you could find to fill the gap between your evening shift at the library. Tuesdays and Thursdays are void of responsibility until your afternoon lab with the freshman near tears while learning basic titration for four hours, followed by office hours where said freshman finally come to actually cry about their grades. Those are the nights you, Chan, Wonwoo and a handful of other lab techs work on research that carries the same threat of waterworks. 

It’s there Dr. Wagner pulls you and Wonwoo aside.

“I know you both are applying to Dr. Collins lab for your PhD studies,” she starts. 

Her office reflects the same disarray as her personality; warm and lived in. Papers and exams are organized in chaos, thick stacks lining her desk waiting for you and Wonwoo to enter them into the online grade book. Books, some leather, some paperback, some the glossy cover of a textbook with cracked spines and yellowing pages are crammed into the bookshelves lining the walls until they threaten to collapse from the weight. It smells like coffee, plants, and the candle she always has burning. It’s a cozy hovel overlooking the rear courtyard of the science building that resembles the sterility of a hospital. 

Wonwoo occupies the other barrel chair with worn upholstery. You’ve barely seen him in the past three weeks, too busy with volunteering and working and classes while his own responsibilities keep him so exhausted it’s truly a miracle he’s even here. Dark stains ring his eyes beneath his glasses and he looks paler than usual. You’ll ask about it tonight when he comes over to work on your most recent stoichiometry project (which will be forgotten in favor of passing out during a movie while you play with his hair if history is anything to go by).

“I don’t think I’ve ever met two students who belong more in his lab,” she continues.

You try not to preen, but academic validation is a hell of a drug to caffeine addicted undergrads. Wonwoo perks up too. Three and a half years of barely being people for this moment and it’s finally in reach.

“However,” Dr. Wagner clasps her hands atop the dark wooden desk. “I’m writing only one recommendation this semester. It might seem unfair but I want to commit to the student that deserves it the most since my schedule doesn’t allow me much free time.”

It’s like being underwater. You hear her words but nothing registers, blinking rapidly in case this is a hallucination from falling asleep in the lab again.

“I know it might not be the news you hoped for but I know senior year is a lot, especially for students as involved as you all, and I thought this could alleviate some of the stress. You two are the only students I’m considering. So please, keep up the incredible work and we can talk again at the end of the semester when I have a more holistic evaluation of your progress.”

She stands to leave, snagging her purse and blowing out the candle with finality before abandoning the shit storm in your lap for whatever else she has to do on a Thursday night. Probably retell the events of the last five minutes to other professors in the department, laughing at the way you’ve turned purple from holding your breath.

“Have a good night you two! See you tomorrow!”

The office, once warm, feels hollow. You feel hollow. 

“What the fuck?” Wonwoo hasn’t moved either, glued to his seat as he stares at Dr. Wagner’s now vacant chair with his mouth wide in shock.

“Did that just happen?” you scoff in disbelief. “Is she serious?”

Wonwoo collapses over his knees with his hands scrubbing at his face like he also might be hallucinating. “I needed that recommendation.”

“Well, so do I,” you argue.

“I know. This is bullshit.”

“Did Changkyun say anything like this happened last year when she wrote one for him?”

“No, all three people who asked her got one.”

“Oh, so it’s just us she hates. Great!” you throw your hands up, sinking deeper in the chair. Maybe it’ll swallow you whole and the entire ordeal will cease to exist.

“She’s probably just trying to get in our heads so we don’t slack off this semester.”

“Have we ever slacked off any semester? I’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. You’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. We’re those people.”

Since starting college, since that one night during orientation where you and Wonwoo became a ‘we’. Not in the relationship sense, but in the way two lines merge. Same path, same goals, same classes, same PhD program prospects. There was plenty you two did separately but more you did together. Neither competing, but working together. 

But now that’s over.

Because only one of you can get into Dr. Collins lab, only one of you can get the recommendation, and only one of you can have what you both worked tirelessly for over the past three years.

“Listen—” you stand up and scrub at your own face. “It’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.”

“We? Only one of us can get her recommendation. What’s there to figure out?”

Your face goes hot. He’s right. “Well, I need that recommendation.”

“So do I,” Wonwoo argues, eyes cold.

“Fine.”

That recommendation is mine.

“Fine!”

We’ll see about that.

Wonwoo stays in her office, flinching as you slam the door and flee.

The issue with fighting with Wonwoo is that as mad as both of you are, there are a million responsibilities you share that require close proximity.

Presently, it’s grading the last batch of exams. Seventy eight packets. And because Dr. Wagner doesn’t believe in convenience, it all has to be graded by the hand of two TAs running on nothing but caffeine and spite.

Which means it’s past midnight and the couch has a permanent impression of Wonwoo’s ass while you both silently fume and scratch through wrong answers with a heavy hand in red ink.

The weather reflects the atmosphere; pouring rain and thunder loud enough to shake the windows. The power has flickered in and out since the rain started but you're both too stubborn to call it quits – if there is nothing to keep you occupied then you might rip his throat out.

Wonwoo doesn’t even ask if you want more coffee before he snags your empty mug and moves to the kitchenette. You don’t look up when he sets it back down, and only grab it and take the first sip of perfectly steaming hot sweetness when he flops back on the couch without another word. 

Then the power goes out again, and doesn’t come back.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Using the flashlight on your phone, you search the drawers of your desk for candles. There nowhere to be found amongst the stacks of unopened sticky notes and tangled cords. 

Wonwoo shuffles behind you, papers landing on the coffee table completely abandoned. “We’ve been at this for hours. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“I have them in here somewhere,” you bite, another handful of chargers and a stapled you’ve never used and other things you didn’t even realize you own fill the drawer. You move to the second. “There’s only a few tests left.”

“We can do them tomorrow. It can wait.”

“No,” you spit like a curse.

Whatever Wonwoo was planning to say dies on his lips. “Fine.” 

His shirt lands over your head, you rip it off only to find him half naked in the dark, huddling under one of the throw blankets you keep on the back of the couch. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping.”

“On the couch?” 

“Yep.”

“You’re too tall.”

“Well,” he draws like a pouty kid. “I don’t feel like sharing the bed with you.”

In a way it’s safer to argue about something trivial like this versus the entire reason you’ve iced each other out since that day in her office. Because at least like this, you won’t lose him. It’s stupid and petty but at least you’re speaking to each other; breaking through that wall of silence that’s been steadily growing more and more unnavigable as the inevitable draws nearer.

“Fine, then I’ll sleep on the couch and you take the bed.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. N. O.”

Fine.

It’s difficult to navigate in the dark. Your knees end up a victim to the edge of the coffee table and you trip over the edge of the rug, but you find the couch. Reaching down, you find his chest, then his shoulder. And once you’re sufficiently oriented you sit on him.

“Ow,” Wonwoo grunts as you flop down, elbow in his gut and his chin hitting your forehead. “What are you doing?”

You wedge in closer, slipping between his body and the cushions, bracing to kick him off by force if needed. “Sleeping.”

“Here?” he asks. Too aware of your plan, he turns as well, grabbing the back of the couch overhead to stay put.

“You’re too tall to sleep here.”

“And we’re both too big to sleep here together. Take the bed.”

“No,” you huff.

“No?”

“No. N.O. I believe you’re familiar with the word,” you spit.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“If you keep talking then neither of us will sleep.”

“Neither of us are gonna sleep anyway. You move too much to be comfortable like this.”

He’s right of course. Your hips already ache but if you move then he’ll find some way to pull you off. “I’m fine.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

You do the mature thing and bite him. 

The muscles corded around his pec twitch under your mouth as he flinches. “What the hell was that for?” 

You do it again.

“Stop.”

“Or what?” you ask, muffled in his skin as you move to leave another bite.

Wonwoo also does the mature thing and pins your wrists in one hand, maneuvering until you're sandwiched between the couch with his chest flat to your back.

“I can’t breathe like this,” you muffle into the cushions.

“Oh, how tragic.” You feel his words tickle the back of your neck rather than hear them. 

Wonwoo releases your wrists pinned to your stomach. His hand finds its way under your shirt, his shirt from some stupid frat fundraiser you’d been coerced into attending, flat to your belly with soothing circles. His calf hooks over your own to tangle your bodies together. He kisses the back of your neck, a simple brush of his lips that lingers.

It’s easier to feel everything in the dark. Your annoyance and frustration forged over the past weeks melts away and all that’s left is the need to have Wonwoo close. Just like this. Where there are no deadlines, or responsibilities. Where you both can drown in each others’ presence and everything else is washed away in the heavy drops pounding the windows outside.

Here, everything is uncomplicated.

The next rumble of thunder is loud enough to send you both in the air. Unfortunately, Wonwoo drags you backwards off the couch and to the floor. You land relatively unscathed but he knocks his elbow into the coffee table.

“Are you okay?”

Wonwoo groans and curses, cradling his elbow.

“Aw, tell the doctor where it hurts,” you coo, prodding his side.

He snatches your hand and pins it to his chest but not before lacing his fingers through your own. The gentle rise of and fall of breathing and the thud of his heart reverberates down your arm and straight into your own chest where something frozen softens. “Has anyone told you you’re annoying when you’re tired?”

“Yes. You. Lots of times.”

“Good. Wanna make sure you’re aware.”

Lighting turns everything white, a quick flash highlighting the room. There and gone and leaving you more disoriented than before. Rolling over, you hook a thigh over his lap which he welcomes, tugging you closer and absorbing the proximity like second nature. You’re a glutton for warmth –  Wonwoo’s warmth specifically – even in his sweater and his sweat shorts and his shirt, you still want more of him.

“We can’t sleep like this.”

You don’t want to move – laying like this, in the dark, nose dug into his chest as you twisting your fingers in his, squeezing and glowing pathetically when he squeezes back – all you want is to drown in him a little longer. Until you're forced to come up for breath.

But the sore spot between you two is still raw like a fresh bruise.

“Then sleep in the bed,” his lips drags over your knuckles as he speaks.

“No. You sleep in the bed, you’re too tall to sleep on the couch.”

“Fine.” Wonwoo jumps up from his place on the floor, grabbing your hands once again before dragging you around the coffee table towards the opposite side of the room. It’s ridiculously childish, especially in the dark where he bounces off the desk and the rug roughens the back of your legs.

He shimmies you around a corner and a cloud of laughter puffs between your lips. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping in the bed, and you’re sleeping in the bed with me.”

“What if I don’t want to sleep next to you?”

“Then I’ll cry. Like that time we watched Steel Magnolias.”

“Have mercy,” you whimper.

“Then get your ass in bed.”

Deflating like a balloon, you stand. Wonwoo keeps his hands on you the entire time, guiding you down to the mattress and covering your body with his own just in case of an escape. He bunkers down in the safety of your neck, dragging your hands to his hair, mimicking the motions he craves until you take up the action and gently comb through the tangles.

A part of you wants to cry. Preemptively mourn the end of this – whatever this is. Late nights with Wonwoo, whispering in the dark about clueless underclassmen and annoying professors. Taking turns scrolling through adoptable cats at the local rescue. Cooing over them, rolling your eyes when Wonwoo finds Pixel still listed as available for adoption, a sign to him that he’s meant to have her except he lives in a frat house. Or the nights neither of you can sleep and take a trip to the local diner and tuck yourselves away in a corner booth to watch drunk people cling to consciousness over waffles and hash browns. 

There will be no more of that. Not by the time winter break comes. One of you is getting the gold ticket and the other will be up in the air with the hundreds of other people competing for the same handful of slots. And if one of you doesn't get in? 

“Was that so hard?” he whispers into your collar.

When you don’t answer, he looks up at. In the cast of lighting coming through the window he’s the same Wonwoo. The one you’ve been best friends with for years now. The one who is practically glued to your side whenever possible. 

The one who you’ll have to say goodbye to.

He meets your kiss lazily. Like he still thinks you have all the time in the world.

It makes the urge to cry that much worse.

The rain is gone by morning. 

The room glows from the orange light of the first minutes of sunrise. Sometime in the night you rolled to your side and Wonwoo pressed tight to your back. He’s awake, drawing shapes on your hip beneath the fabric of your shirt.

“Morning.” 

You hum and roll over to burrow in his chest, the crown of your head digging into his neck and away from the sun. “Morning.”

The warmth of his hands trace the curve of your back, pulling you closer; hiding his own discontent with such an early break in the tentative truce that only seems to exist in the late hours of night and earliest minutes of dawn. Days of sleep deprivation with nothing but sterile lighting in the lab leaves you both needy and vulnerable. So he hugs you tighter and sighs when you do the same.

He’s hard against your thigh. Clearly a result of biology more than need because he’s snoring against your hairline. Flashes of dreams rush forward – him beneath you, on top of you, behind you. It’s been weeks since you two last fucked. When you called him an idiot and he called you stubborn and next thing you were on the table with your legs spread for Wonwoo’s hand in a clumsy bump and grind while arguing about which one of you fucked up the biosensor callibration through gritted teeth and needy whimpers.

You’re wet. With his thigh pressed between your own the fact becomes more evident as the urge to curl into it nags.

Taking advantage of the exposed curve of skin beneath your mouth, you kiss and suck with lax intent until Wonwoo tips his chin up and gives a silent green light.

A heavy hand drags down his front, nails scratching bluntly through the fabric until it can slip beneath the waistband of his sweats and the curve of his cock sits pretty in your palm. Commando for convenience and comfort. More the latter because there’s no shot in hell he’s been getting laid lately.

His breath is sticky in his throat, vibrating beneath your teeth from thin pants as you work him through a loose fist. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Yes.”

Slouching down, your head rests on his stomach, sweatpants bunched around his thighs. The first lick sends his hips up in search of more and you eagerly supply the soft suction of your mouth; lips catching around the flared head. A hand on the back of your skull keeps your hair from interfering as he plumps against your tongue. 

Eagerness fails to penetrate this moment slowed down by the greater need to drag this out. To savor every second because who knows when you’ll both stop being petty enough to just enjoy one another’s presence again.

“Might cum—fuck— don’t stop,” he grunts.

With the sun filling the room even more you’re running out of time, the warmth growing to leave sweat at the small of your back. He pushes harder into the curve of your throat and you let him, gagging wet with a lewd mix of spit and pre-cum that has you both moaning at the choked sound. Jaw slack, Wonwoo fucks your mouth with slow ruts; stomach tightening and the hand in your hair fisting tight enough you moan.

“Shit, babe—c-cumming,” he whines with a pathetic groan you’d make fun of him for later but all you can think about is the thick taste of cum and if there’s enough time for some attention between your own legs before life becomes unignorable. Not enough time for a real fuck but Wonwoo has a few tricks up his sleeve that promise satisfaction.

You bounce back down next to him and Wonwoo pounces, rolling on top of you, thing between your spread legs. He doesn’t shy away from your tongue against his teeth, dips a thumb beneath your chin and slips his tongue right along with it, sucks your lips until the swell, backing off only to bunch your shirt up. Lazy drags of his mouth on yours – not the ‘I need you’ kisses after a late night but the ‘I miss you’ ones after weeks of passive aggressive silence.

He licks down your front, goosebumps blooming from the draft as he sucks a nipple until you arch and twist a hand in his hair. You give a lax stretch and sigh while his hand slips beneath the edge of your panties.

Taking the morning for what it is, you fall into the motions until the blare of the alarm clock signals the beginning of the end.

You push away and swipe blindly at the night stand to make it stop but Wonwoo has other plans. 

He pins your hips down, tongue flat to the crotch of your underwear with a pant. “Ignore it.”

“What?” You look at him and find tired eyes watching back from over the edge of your wrinkled shirt. His hair is a mess, stuck to the side of his head from sleep and your eager hands and all you want to do is comb the tangles out while he pulls your strings like a puppet master.

But you can’t.

“We’ve got class,” you gasp through a hot kiss on your clit.

A groggy groan of, “skip,” vibrates on your skin.

Fingers curling in the sheets, you grasp for disagreement only to find a moan as he pulls your hips closer and works a finger where you need it most.

“We can’t.”

“We can,” Wonwoo grunts, focusing on peppering greedy kisses to the sensitive insides of your thighs. “We’ve been early every time this semester.”

The hand not curling in your guts runs down the back of your calf, bending until it hooks over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Wonu,” you whine over the crude sounds of his mouth. You want to. God, do you want to. But you open your eyes again and they land on the stack of exams on your desk. Ungraded. Because Wonwoo said you could do them this morning. And now he wants you to skip class despite how important it is. 

You close your legs only for Wonwoo to take it as a challenge, pinning your hips in place and celebrating his perceived victory with a throaty moan as he rocks against the bed.

“Stop.”

He pulls back, mouth wet and brows furrowed. “Huh?”

The alarm on your phone pings again. Swiftly silenced this time as you roll out from beneath him and land beside the mattress on unsteady feet. “We can’t skip. We have to give exams back.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he argues, flopping down into the warmth you left vacant.

The room is too bright, a clear sign your morning routine is behind. “You think now is the time to start slacking off?”

“It’s not slacking off.” Wonwoo snags his glasses. He looks more annoyed with them. “It’s a break. You clearly need one.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just forget it. I’m not arguing with you about stupid shit.”

“And what's stupid shit? The job we signed up for? With the professor who controls our futures?”

Wonwoo fixes his pants and rolls out of bed. On the opposite side. As far away from you as possible. “Whatever.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

“Good!”

You slam the bathroom door shut with finality. When you come back out, any trace of Wonwoo is long gone.

There aren’t many people in class. A benefit of Halloweekend is the partying starts Wednesday and doesn’t stop until the following week. Even with last night's rain plenty of students are battling hangovers which leaves a third of the usual lecture attendance to witness you and Wonwoo go head to head while Dr. Wagner sits at home with a mysterious illness she announced in an email three minutes after nine AM.

The few that are there snag their papers, lips curled in disgust at the plethora of red ink spilled on white pages. Their own faults for not paying attention during lecture but maybe the scarlet gashes were a little dramatic. Wonwoo’s jaw is tight, pointedly ignoring you except to hand exams over that someone is waiting for with dread in their eyes. 

You could’ve skipped. It wouldn’t even count as skipping because class is canceled and there’s no award for hauling ass at the crack of dawn when your advisor isn’t even here to see it. You could be tucked away in your apartment with him under your skin; firmly in the place between dreams and waking where you liked him best, nothing but warm skin and rough hands with his lips on your hairline and your head burrowed in his chest. 

There are too many witnesses to just drop the act and wrap your arms around him from behind until he gives in. Apologize for the stupid shit he rightfully called you out on. But as your courage grows with each student’s exit, Wonwoo makes to leave before you can make use of it. 

Barely an hour of fighting and it already feels like an eternity.

“Hey,” you call.

He freezes by one of the desks near the back of the room, like he’s shocked you’re even there in the first place. But he doesn’t turn around; just tilts his head so you know he’s listening even if he doesn’t want to.

“Sorry about this morning. I-I think the stress is getting to me.”

And the fact that I can’t be mad at anyone besides the universe for this incredibly shitty situation. And I miss you. Even when you’re right next to me.

“Okay.”

“That’s it?” you fidget with the strap of your bag; a million pounds heavier even without the weight of ungraded tests that Wonwoo snatched before you could divide the remaining work.

He turns around, eying you with an exasperated look. “What else should I say? You called me a slack off and implied I don’t do my job.”

“I didn’t,” you argue but it’s salt in the wound because—

“You did.”

“But—”

“It’s fine. I’ll finish grading the exams over the weekend.”

And then you're alone.

You’re alone in the study room you both usually occupy to work on the Nanochemistry project due at the end of term. The shared document has updates, the blink of his cursor mocking your from wherever he hunkered down. Away from you. The temptation to type ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again disappears once he logs out barely a minute after you logged on.

You’re alone at the circulation desk of the library through your shift, head whipping around to every squeak and cough only to find someone who isn’t Wonwoo. There’s an email from him, to Dr. Wagner with you CC’ed, about class averages and exam questions that should be thrown out.

You walk home alone. Other students in various states of dress and intoxication crowd the sidewalks, a few you recognize but they feel a million miles away.

Alone in your apartment, the two mugs from last night clean in the sink.

The good part of being alone is when you start crying, no one is there to see.

It’s near midnight and the chill of the breeze whipping down the street bites at your exposed skin. Already the should-be-condemned frat house pulses with life, the promise of a long night ahead thrumming through the symphony of drunk screams and music.

It’s not unusual for you to attend frat parties. Wonwoo’s favor guarantees free booze and a perch at the top of the staircase where underclassmen are barred from entering. But you’ll settle for watching drunk underclassman stumbling over the front lawn from one of the couches on the front porch (which are so broken in, no one sinks into the cushions – they just fall straight down until the worn springs catch them) because the inside of the house is too hot, and too crowded, and far too loud. 

A hail Mary apology is the only thing on your mind. Yesterday had been the nastiest spat in recent history between you two; notwithstanding sophomore year when Jeonghan asked you for tutoring and Wonwoo insisted on helping. “Helping” meant cutting off every question Jeonghan dared ask with a series of snorts and huffs until you left and refused to talk to him for a week.

He’d apologized in the most Wonwoo fashion – completing your Thermodynamics assignments for the rest of the semester and before going down on you until you threatened to kick him in the head through sensitive sobs.

Wonwoo is here – somewhere. Shuffling up the past, past the line of eager party goers looking for a way in, you scan the front porch, he’s not in his usual waiting spot to whisk you upstairs where the older members hang out with better drinks and better music. Not that he would be. He doesn’t even know you considered coming to this.

Instead, poor Chan, dressed in yellow and black stripes, mans the door with pilot Jihoon by his side.

“Jihoon,” you greet, before looking at the younger man. “Speed bump.”

Chan mumbles something under his breath but lays on the ground regardless. When Wonwoo went through the same hazing you only got a few chances to enjoy the ridiculousness before he dragged you upstairs and shut you up himself.

“Can you not torment the kids?” Jihoon grunts.

“I could. But, where’s the fun in that?” 

“Your boyfriend is inside. If you see Jun, tell him it’s his turn to watch the door.”

“Got it.”

Stepping over the underclassman still laying on the ground, you head inside and straight for the packed kitchen to get a drink. There’s barely any space between the hoard of bodies, forcing you to shuffle forward everytime there's a gap in the crowd; but it’s more like swimming against a rip tide. 

It’s difficult to see with nothing but a few strobe lights and some strings of Christmas lights to clear the dark. One glance up towards the upper landing of the staircase is all it takes to find him right next to Mingyu. Matching costume, two bean poles standing out from the crowd of shorter men. Mingyu makes a brief nod in your direction but before you can see Wonwoo turn you’re off into the kitchen.

It’s an even tighter fit in here. A pledge pours drinks from a cooler, for a brief second you’re tempted to indulge. The last time you did, freshman year, you ended up crying in Wonwoo’s room mid-hookup. You scan the slim pickings and settle on an unopened beer. The shots you took while getting ready are already catching up.

Forced between anxious isolation and drinking, a few of your friends come up and briefly make conversation. You feign interest, eying over their heads for a familiar mop of dark hair without success.

A few guys stop to compliment your costume. They give themselves away in glazed heavily lidded stares, single minded focus on your legs. They ask what your major is, boast their status as pledges to your disinterested grimace, and move on when you finally put them out of their misery and fib about your “boyfriend” being “president or something” but “I don’t pay attention to those things,” and they all disappear significantly paler than when they first appeared.

You bite the bullet of your pride and turn to leave, only to find Wonwoo barely an inch away.

His eyes burn over your figure, the short toga covering just enough for you to avoid public indecency. Good. It’s the entire reason you wore this stupid costume in the first place. He’s a horny loser for nerdy shit and this is the best thing you could’ve worn other than one of those video game character costumes forcing your boobs in your throat and leaving you at serious risk for public indecency.

It’s not the first time you’ve wrapped yourself in barely enough fabric to constitute an outfit for the sake of his forgiveness and it probably won’t be the last.

Wonwoo pins you to the counter with his hips, hands bracketing your figure on either side. The green hat with an ‘L’ is lopsided on his head but at least he didn’t wear the fake mustache. “So, what is your costume?” he hums into the space just below your ear with a kiss.

“Guess.” You tilt your chin, cocky.

“And if I get it right?” he asks, lips at your ear.

Heart pound, you ditch the beer and reach for his hips with purpose. “Whatever you want.”

“Dangerous words.”

“Think of it as my apology for being a huge bitch yesterday.” 

He sighs into your neck, arms tight around your waist in a loose semblance of a hug. It’s a farce. Your ass meets the counter with minor effort and Wonwoo claims the space between your legs before you can pretend to object.

He still hasn’t kissed you.

You want more than kisses. You want to feel him, all of him. Want to drag him to the living room serving as a makeshift dance floor and sink into the heat of his body pressed flat against your own for everyone to see. You want to pull him into that closet off the main hall, familiar from that hot night of freshman year when a drunk make out turned into a timid fingering and eventually Wonwoo handing over his first time on a silver platter. Or even run back to your apartment, pluck through the leftover Halloween candy you bought on discount and watch whatever horror movie has become his recent obsession. You just want him.

“Mingyu thought you were Socrates.”

Pressed this close on the sticky counter, his body is the only thing protecting what little of your dignity is left. Even then, there's enough of the slippery warmth of alcohol to tempt you into rutting against him right here for those stupid pledges to see. “Mingyu is an idiot.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles. “The rubber chicken gave it away.”

You shake it at eye level. “Behold, man.”

“Lame,” his kissing gets bold down the shaft of your neck, teeth scraping your collarbone.

“Oh please, I feel your boner.”

He doesn’t resist you when you nuzzle along the bare parts of his neck, a tease of soft kissing usually reserved for quiet moments tucked away in your apartment. Even in the chaos of the party, body heat turning the air uncomfortably warm, you crave more of his closeness. 

His hands feel nice on your legs. None of the timid gentleness of years prior when he’d touch you like it’d burn if he wanted it too much; trailing higher and higher but never under the short hem of the bedsheet turned dress. His fingers flex into the muscle at the outside of your thigh, hook behind your knees and drag you to the edge of the counter. 

You're sweating through your own skin when he kisses you. 

The need in your gut blooms at full force. Your mouth loosens, welcoming his tongue and teeth and whatever else he’s generous enough to give while you tug at the loose fabric around his hips to force more close proximity; the zipper of his pants is hot against your core and if you fucked him right here it wouldn’t look that different than the PG-13 make out happening right now. 

“Wanna show me your room?” You blink like some moony eyed freshman, glassy, pupils blown from vivid images of all the possibilities in the solitude upstairs. Wonwoo is fine with the game of whatever your apology entails even if it means you throw cheesy lines like that.

He ushers you off the counter, flat to your back as he pushes through the crowd with you ahead. Even in a drunken haze people part out of his way because of the mastery of resting bitch face only he seems to have despite the complaint putty that lies behind it. A private smile splits your lips. He can’t be that mad. Not with how he pulls you closer, in the protective way he so often does in the buzz of a single minded crowd with more alcohol in their veins than blood. 

Mingyu is standing on the landing. Girls in scraps of fabric eye him up and down, even in his stupid costume with the mustache but he ignores them in favor of pouting straight into a red cup.

“Why is your boyfriend moping?” 

“Fuck if I know.” Wonwoo focuses on sucking another bruise on your neck like no one's watching. 

You’re loose enough not to care about Mingyu’s annoyance as Wonwoo ushers you by. “Cheer up buttercup, I’m sure there’s a Peach here into charity fucks!” 

It’s meant to be encouraging, but Mingyu looks like he’s torn between strangling you and throwing himself over the banister.

Maybe you did lie about being Wonwoo’s girlfriend, but he is president and his room is the biggest and furthest away from chaos. Up on the top floor where the music isn’t as loud and the only people on this floor are other members and their guests for the night.

Wonwoo pushes you inside, kicking the door shut loud enough you wince before crowding you against the wood. You throw his hat away somewhere into the darkness, hand twisted in his hair as he kisses you. Sloppy and gross until he rocks into the softness of your stomach, gasoline on the flame.

“Turn around.”

He barely gives you enough space to do so, pressing you flat once again, cheek squished to the door and a rough pull at your waist. 

“If you’re thinking about touching my asshole, don’t. I have shit to do tomorrow,” you warn. 

On the other side of the door you hear footsteps but they pass by without stopping.

“Noted, but not what I’m going for,” he jokes. 

Your skirt flips up and a draft against the damp crotch of your panties sends a tremor straight through your core. “Share with the class.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m shaking in my toga.”

“And you call me a loser.”

“I can call you some other things,” you grit, pushing back into the heat of his covered cock. “They aren’t as nice though.”

“Yeah, yeah. Take your panties off.” 

He’s a little bit of a freak. Sometimes he enjoys fucking you in nothing but your underwear and others he wants you in everything but. Maybe because of how this entire thing started; when you wouldn’t even take your bra off and he survived on the barest flash of nipple.

The flimsy soiled fabric barely passes your knees before he’s on you again, easily tempted by the arch of your spine. You hum content as he presses a finger into your cunt, then two. His other hand forces the neckline of your dress down and lo-and-behold your lack of bra delights like you knew it would.

Whatever bright idea that fluttered in Wonwoo’s brain is forgotten as he spins you back around for an eyeful of naked skin; a mouthful of your chest and your leg hooked around his hip for a pathetic dry hump into the heel of his hand.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan with extra emphasis and a caved stomach because there’s teeth and he makes it hurt. “Kiss me.”

Another rut into your thigh and his teeth are back at your bottom lip. It’s not exactly what you anticipated when you showed up tonight but there are far worse places than having a doorknob in your back while Wonwoo leaves a hickey below your ear; a perfectly good bed ten feet away but neither of you can be bothered to move much more than forcing Wonwoo’s pants down enough his cock leaks in your grip, head nestled at your entrance.

You surprise him by sinking to your knees. Head tipped back against the door, you tilt your mouth open to welcome him on your tongue. Wonwoo stares down at you; tits out, hand between your legs as you suck his cock in quick motions until he takes over and fucks into the curve of your throat. 

“Holy s-shit,” he hisses and you flatten your tongue to help him along. It feels good; seeing him reduced to so little just from the wet suck of your mouth on him. 

A choked gag forces Wonwoo back into his body, hips curving away so you can swallow air before leaving a sloppy kiss on the tip. Seizing him in a tight grip, you use the spit to jerk him off until he cringes with another pathetic moan. 

Someone giggles in the hallway, close enough you both hear. They’re far enough away you can still whisper to Wonwoo. “Remember that time we fucked in here last year?” 

“When you almost got us killed?”

Last year, at the same party, when you showed up in a skin tight Shego costume, Wonwoo pulled you to the only available room: Seungcheol’s. It’d been hot. Fucking when you aren’t supposed to, having Seungcheol pound at the door while Wonwoo came down your throat (no condoms and no hope to clean up).

“Do it again.”

His hand creeps into a loose collar around the base of your throat. You keep rubbing between your legs, working up a slick slide until your nails dig into the skin of his thighs.

“Really?” There’s no need for muffling the noise when it's his room and the only people at risk of hearing anything have done far worse. He pulls you to your feet, forces your cheek against the door and slides right behind you. Like he was made for you.

“Choke me,” you gasp before digging into the sick part of your brain that likes seeing him strung out, extra breathy just to see his eyes go wide. “Sir.”

Your skin sticks to the door, shamefully squeezed as he drags his cock through the mess of your pussy. “You can’t just say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because—”

“Because what?” you goad. “Gonna punish me?”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Show up wearing this,” he grits, tugging at the white fabric bunched around your waist, using the hand on your throat to squeeze your cheeks tight with authority you drool for.  “Asking to be choked and now you probably want me to spank you and call you a good girl.”

You grunt through the raw thrust at your gut, sending your head back from sheer enthusiasm. “N–not my fault you fuck me so good.” 

Wonwoo almost can’t control himself, hearing nothing but praise fall from your mouth as he fucks you limp against the door. “God.”

Someone screams, “Leave room for Jesus!” from the other side of the door and you almost rip it open to kill them if Wonwoo wasn’t dragging you to the bed. 

He folds you onto your front, both standing at the foot of the bed. A deep roll of his hips and you’re filled completely. 

“O-oh, fuck me,” you moan, uncaring if the idiot outside the door is still listening. Wonwoo has a hell of a hand and puts it to use against the curve of your ass. The coil in your gut pulls taunt as he delivers one after another.

He fucks deeper, a the hand not burn against your bottom between your shoulders. “You look so good— ah —taking my cock like this.” His voice waivers with the same stunted rhythm of his hips. 

“W-want,” you choke on spit, drooling into the comforter. “Wanna taste you.”

The animalist need to suck both your flavors off his cock nearly sends you into a fit but Wonwoo’s there, hooking his hand back around the front of your neck with a subtle squeeze. You want the stupid dress off, you want Wonwoo’s clothes off, you want to fuck him where there’s no one around to catcall in the hallway like twelve year old boys. Want. Want. Want.

What you get is enough pressure from his fingers that your mind blanks. Wonwoo gets a tight enough squeeze on his cock that he’s forced to a grinding halt. 

Then his rhythm goes deeper, harder. Course curls against the resistance of your ass until you almost collapse against the edge of the bed. His cock hits that spot like it was made for your body. “Touch yourself.”

You comply without further command. You’re wet, soaked, arousal smeared down your thighs from Wonwoo’s treatment. Your fingers bump against his length as you match the pace of his strokes. “Fuck, Wonwoo — hmmm.” 

“Tell me how it feels,” he gasps like it’s his first breath in hours.

“Wet, so wet,” you croon, arching harder, joints locking. “Gonna cum. Oh my god.”

He reaches low, grabbing your hand from between your thighs and pulling it to his mouth for a taste. His tongue slides between your digits, liquid slick with a soft suction your crave on your clit. 

“Beg for it.” Wonwoo bites your shoulder hard enough you cry. 

Stuffing your hand back between your legs, you play with your clit clumsily. Until pink crowds the edge of your vision and it hurts. “Please, please! I need—Want it. Wanna come for you. Please, sir.”

Wonwoo strains to hear your pleas over the clap of bodies. He’s worked you near the middle of the bed, practically laying on top of you as he fucks in quick succession. 

“Harder, fuck me,” you demand. “Yes, yes, y–yes!”

If you were on top you’d fall straight off, jerking tightly under Wonwoo’s weight, turning your face to greet his tongue between your teeth and mewling sensitivity. He doesn’t show mercy, continuing to fuck you through the worst of it.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, head throbbing. Wonwoo forces you back on your knees and you fight through sore muscles and sensitivity to preen under the weight behind his hips. 

“Can I come in you?” he asks in a shivery breath.

You nod with closed eyes, tugging the hand around your throat to your lips and sucking his fingers like it’s a cock. He finishes with a choked breath, flooding your insides with sticky warmth you’ve never gotten used to in all the months you’ve fucked without condoms. 

His breath fans against the nape of your neck, another swivel of his hips from the sensitivity. Your walls squeeze as Wonwoo pulls away. 

You roll onto your back with a bounce, Wonwoo jostling you when he joins. Shoulder to shoulder, you stare up at the ceiling while catching your breath. “Do you think you’ll pop a boner when your students call you a sir next year?”

Wonwoo heaves a long breath, amusement in his voice. “I come inside you and that's the first thing you think of?”

Immediately you regret the joke. Since Dr. Wagner’s announcement weeks ago neither of you had broached on the topic of what happens after graduation. Mostly from fear. But also because it’s a long discussion you’re not exactly sure what you want out of.

“Answer the question.”

“I hope not.”

The bed shifts beneath your knees as you crowd over Wonwoo, laying with his arms behind him to keep from sinking flat. The tired lines of his face look deeper in the lamp light. He’s nothing more than a big softie that wants to cuddle half naked in his bed while you play with his hair until sleep finds its place.

“It’s our last Halloween party.”

“Wow, just like old times,” you snort. “Should I start crying? Then it’ll be just like freshman year all over.”

Wonwoo laughs, his hand snatching yours and lacing your fingers together. “You wore a bra and bunny ears freshman year so if you’re gonna whip that out too – by all means.”

“God, we were so lame,” you announce matter of factly. Crying in lingerie and animal ears in one of the supply closets downstairs all because—

“Don’t rope me into that, miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’.” Wonwoo rolls on top of you, hoping to silence whatever argument bubbling in response with a teasing press of his lips. You're still sticky with sweat and spit and cum, nipples and pussy out and the thought of his dick, limp against your thigh, makes you sensitive all over.

“That’s former miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’,” you trail off into his mouth. “And you’re one to talk. Remember the time you cried about how happy you were that we were friends.”

He bites your lip in retaliation. “I didn’t.”

“You did. I have the video from Mingyu.”

“I thought he was an idiot.”

“He is but he’s good for blackmail.”

You might consider staying the night if he keeps tracing his nose along the arch of your collarbone. But a shrill giggle and some pornographic moans ring through the walls of the neighboring room. Not the side Seungkwan occupies. Hoshi’s. And it’s only the start.

“We can’t sleep here.”

Wonwoo collapses, tugging you with him. “I can’t ditch again, I’m on pledge duty.”

“You’re hiding in your room with me.”

“Okay, technically I’m on pledge duty.”

He wouldn’t stay here if he wasn’t required. Wonwoo hates party nights, especially Halloween. Too many variables requiring all hands on deck; too many needy people demanding his presence for some issue that could’ve been handled if they used their brain to think farther than the tip of their nose. Rarely, if ever, does he sleep in his own bed when you have a perfectly good one tucked away in a private apartment without thirty other men tripping over each other. 

“Well, I’m not sleeping with that.” On cue, another whimper, clearly a man’s, breaks through the tentative silence. Are they fuck against the shared wall?

Wonwoo sighs, scrubbing his face before moving for his phone. “I’ll send one of the kids to walk you.”

“Wow, a pledge escort. How thoughtful,” you sneer.

He huffs again, unwilling to start a fight that’ll leave neither of you satisfied. “Text me when you get home.”

You don’t.

There is an unspoken habit between you and Wonwoo that Sunday mornings are spent at the only reasonably priced coffee shop just near your apartment. A charming hole in the wall, with hanging shelves displaying layers of tchotchkes, paintings lining whatever free space between them, and wobbly tables with equally unbalanced chairs. It’s always packed because the coffee is decent and they have outlets. After last night, you hope he’s too exhausted to even think about showing up.

Mugs click against dark lacquered tables, the dull murmur of conversation churns over the music swelling softly through the speakers. The smell of pastries and espresso wake you enough to slide into a vacant table in the corner and set to work. 

Or you would’ve if someone didn’t sit down first.

“Oh.”

Wonwoo already has a mug and a little brown bag as he looks up at where you stand dumbly.

“I can just go…sit somewhere else…” You turn to leave, except there are no other tables. Couples and groups claim every single seat except the one across from Wonwoo.

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know, probably because I’m mad at you.”

He unpacks his laptop, shaking his head. “You’re not mad at me.”

“Yes, I am,” you emphasize. 

“You’re a bad liar.”

Neither of you are good at lying. Even worse at fighting. Incapable of committing to real anger when it takes all your energy to stand up straight and not fall asleep in a pile of ungraded papers and half finished assignments. Besides, you're only pouting because he passed up a night at your place to clean up pledge vomit. 

You can’t tame the annoyed grin cracking your face.  “Fine, I’m not that mad at you. Buy my forgiveness in the form of coffee.”

“Too much caffeine will kill you.”

“I can only hope,” you sigh, arms cradling your head against the hard wood of the table while he joins the queue at the register.

Wonwoo orders your drink and a cheesy pastry the size of your head, the smell of greasy carbs first thing in the morning softening the ice in your veins. He knows your weaknesses too well. 

“Is this penance?” 

“Something like that.” He tears the crispiest corner off and pops it into his mouth.

“Did you look at the study guide for Calc yet?”

Two hours later you approach the counter for a second round of coffee and snag one of the jammy tarts Wonwoo likes but rarely buys for himself. Whatever chaffs between you two melts under the constant stream of note checking; Wonwoo’s hand on your knee under the table helps too. 

“If I look at this anymore, I’ll run into traffic.”

“We’ve got the Nano project that needs some work,” you suggest. 

He stretches wide, a sliver of skin visible between the hem of his sweater and the band of sweat pants. “I’ve got practice in an hour. We can do it tonight when I’m done.”

You try not to stare and instead return to focusing on the screen of your laptop burning your retinas.“I’m tutoring Seungkwan.”

“After?”

“He’s gonna be a bitch and the last thing I wanna do is look at more school stuff.”

“Then no school stuff,” he decrees with finality. “I’ll bring mushroom pad thai from that place on Market.”

“Are you trying to bribe your way in?”

“Is it working?”

You hum a dismissal but watch him through your lashes. He looks good – washed in late afternoon glow, hair a mess with glasses and a sweater that hangs off his shoulders. It all screams ‘drag me to bed and nap the rest of the day’ which is trouble for you because you still want to be mad at him if only to see how fair he’s willing to go for your forgiveness.

“We can watch Yellowjackets,” he barters, packing his bag.

Another group eyes your table with hope to claim it the second it’s available. Sadly, your ass is firmly planted for the rest of the afternoon. With or without Wonwoo.

“You’re really trying to butter me up, aren’t you?”

“I cannot sleep in that house,” he deadpans. “Please take mercy.”

“Oh, so you’re just using me for a place to sleep. Even after I wore that stupid Halloween costume?”

He pauses, eyes glazing like it’s a distant memory and not less than twenty four hours ago. “You looked hot.”

“You made that pretty clear.”

“Anyway, I’ll come over after practice. You can bitch about Seungkwan until you pass out.”

“Fine, but if there is no pad thai then don’t come.”

“Whatever my woman demands,” he snorts, dropping a kiss to your lips before turning towards the door.

Two hours and another coffee later, Seungkwan occupies Wonwoo’s abandoned chair. There’s no reason for him to be taking an intro chem class as a Creative Writing major other than the fact he’s a bit of a masochist. He’s not half bad at it and doesn’t really need any tutoring but you get paid for showing up even if it’s complete silence as you pick your nails until he needs something.

You’re marking through his latest attempt when he finally speaks up, “You're dating Wonwoo, right?”

Red pen scratches through the edge of the paper. “What?”

“You and Wonwoo.”

What is the absolute configuration of the two carbon atoms in this compound? More red ink.

“What about me and Wonwoo?”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes with exasperation, like you’re on the outs of some obvious joke. “Dating.”

If an alkene has 24 hydrogen atoms, how many carbon atoms does it contain? Another X.

“No.”

“Oh, I thought—”

“We’re just friends.”

When 10 g of 90% pure lime stone is heated completely, the volume (in litres) of is liberated at STP is… Wrong, again. Which makes no sense because Seungkwan is good at this level. He’s fucking with you on purpose.

“Huh,” he comments, grabbing the worksheet back from your claws.

“‘Huh’ what?”

“I heard a rumor he had a girlfriend last night, that’s all.”

It's not the first time someone assumed there's more between you and Wonwoo then there actually is, your fib last night clearly fanned the flames of even more speculation. But neither of you date; not enough time, willpower, or patience to entertain someone around packed schedules. If you and Wonwoo didn’t have the same life within the chemistry department then you’d never see each other. It’s convenient as it can possibly be. 

Maybe at one point there was. Summer of sophomore year when he studied abroad in Spain and the usual substance of correspondence morphed from memes and jokes to something softer; I miss you’s and you’d like it here’s. Late night phone calls that lasted hours, refusing to hang up first until one of you fell asleep and the other finally canceled the call. 

But the opportunity to tip over the edge came and went without coalescing into whatever was on the other side. 

Seungkwan can pretend it’s an innocent suggestion but he stares you down until you crack with your own curiosity. “Who told you that?”

“Some pledges said they accidentally hit on his girlfriend. I don't even think he knows another girl beside you. Plus you were at the party last night.”

Stupid fuckers, you mutter under your breath. “We’re not dating.”

“But you guys are always together.”

“We work together. You and Vernon are always together, are you two fucking?”

“My room is next to his and it doesn’t sound like work to me.”

“How does me failing you sound?” you spit. 

Seungkwan doesn't so much as flinch at the threat but returns to the practice sheet with a smile nonetheless. 

Typically, fall break is spent hidden away in a pile of blankets with you and Wonwoo alternating movie choices throughout the weekend. Dead Poets Society (him), When Harry Met Sally (you), Over the Garden Wall (him), Fantastic Mr Fox (you), and so on and so on.

This year, you have a strong feeling Dr. Wagner’s favorite pastime is seeing her TAs squirm. It’s the only explanation for the unique brand of humiliation she subjects you and Wonwoo to. Tonight, Friday and technically your first night off for the long weekend, she decides to engage in a new sort of torture. A fancy dinner that neither of you could ever hope to afford, and even as her treat, you still eye the menu prices nervously. 

But Dr. Collins sits across the table, in the flesh, so you pull out the skills you learned in the ridiculous theater class you took freshman year to “diversify” your transcript and smile through the anxiety. 

Wonwoo does a little better; in a button up you’ve only seen him wear a handful of times when his usual wardrobe is sweatshirts and free shirts from campus events, he looks more comfortable than you feel.

“Jill, tells me you both work on Epitranscriptomic mapping in her lab?” Dr. Collins asks after another sip of his drink. Two whiskeys at dinner. 

It’s not an official interview. Not anything close to it, according to your advisor. Nothing is set in stone, even if Dr. Collins laughs at Wonwoo’s awkward jokes and nods enthusiastically to your stories about working in the library (he also worked in the library in undergrad, but used it to nap more than actually work). But it feels like a step in the right direction. 

“Yes, sir.” Wonwoo and you nod in tandem.

Dr. Wagner’s research focuses on how different RNA modifications vary across various cell types and states. It’s high level stuff that no one but Wonwoo understands when you rant about the broken Cellraft machine. And his complaints about NovaSec’s constant crashes that leave him without work fall on deaf ears except when they’re directed at you. 

Half the reason you two started speaking during orientation is because the overly enthusiastic intern asked what people were looking forward to the most during school. You and Wonwoo were the only ones who seemed to think she meant school-related and not where to buy a fake ID. Apparently, the best person to get a fake ID from was a junior in Dr. Wagner’s lab that year. Go figure.

“I’ve seen you two listed down the line as co-authors,” he nods. 

The waiter brings dessert, spiced toffee cakes and ice cream. You’re starving but the knot in your stomach from when you sat down is even tighter and all you can do is pick at the plate.

“Well, Y/N does a lot of the troubleshooting for the RNA degradation issues,” Wonwoo shares. 

Your face heats at the unexpected but not undeserved compliment. Dr. Wagner’s work isn’t cheap and the thought of wasting valuable money, money that could line the pocket of an extra set of hands, forced you to run a tight ship. The other researchers in her lab could say what they wanted behind your back but Dr. Wagner nods with fondness and you try not to preen.

“We’d be a mess if it wasn’t for her,” Dr. Wagner agrees. “The lab techs should write her a card.”

Not wanting to leave him out, you shoot a look to your left where Wonwoo pulls at the napkin in his lap. “Wonwoo is the one that made sure the parameters made sense for the last publication.”

“Also true.” Dr. Wagner smiles. “I told you, Harry, they’re my best students. Excel a mile past my TAs last year. They work together exceptionally well. If I could keep them both for next year, I would.” She says it with finality. There might very well be an opportunity to stay here and continue in her lab, even if your ambition has outgrown the place you’ve called home for four years.

The table is cleared, your plate full of mashed cake and melted ice cream with not a single bite missing. You’re exhausted. Mentally, emotionally; physically from the three all nighters you’ve pulled this week. There’d be an earful from Wonwoo about the dangers of sleep deprivation (hypocrite) but he looks like he’s seen a ghost tonight and won’t sleep himself.

Dr. Collins glances at his watch with a muffled yawn, “My, my! Look at the time! My apologies I didn't mean to keep us all out so late. I know you two probably have far more interesting things to be doing than spending the evening with a couple old timers like us.” He winks at Dr. Wagner, who rolls her eyes and hands the check back to the waiter who can’t be more than nineteen. “It looks like I’ll have some tough decisions to make in the upcoming weeks. Best of luck to the both of you.”

Hands shakes all around, and an awkward shuffle at the door and Dr. Collins and Dr. Wagner disappear into the night, leaving you and Wonwoo alone on the long walk back to campus.

You don’t beeline to your apartment for a debrief. Or even to ignore the obvious awkwardness cracking between. A bench to the side of the campus green is where you find yourselves, across from the fountain that upholds the tradition of drunken seniors taking a dip during finals when they’ve given up. 

You want to drown in it.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper. “What happens if one of us doesn't get in?”

“I–I don’t know.” He peers down at you with what you think is grief and the white noise that follows his quiet admission chokes painfully. There’s no plan B for something like this

If you got in, then Wonwoo did too. An unfounded assumption that wherever you went he’d be there too, based on almost four years of something between you. Too much to be friendship but too scared to call it something else. Something more. All the stereotypical college firsts had been with him or witnessed by him, you assumed grad school would be the same.

But it can’t be.

“Then we should end this.”

The words are out like shaken champagne, a dramatic explosion you can’t take back; a mess in the slimmest inches of space between your bodies on the bench in the freezing air.

“What?” he says.

You can’t swallow back down the idea. Wonwoo won’t let you. Maybe you don’t want to. You stare at the fountain across the green with a twitch in your jaw. 

“One of us is gonna move to Boston and the other is gonna have to figure it out and I’d rather not hate you or you hate me when it happens.”

You won’t take it back but you won’t look at him either. 

“You think I’d hate you?” 

He’s staring at you. You can feel the burn of his gaze on your cheek where embarrassment heats as well.

“I would.” You ignore the break in your voice at the complete lie. “I’d hate it if you got in and I didn’t. Even though you deserve it and I couldn’t be mad about it. I’d hate it. All I’ve wanted since freshman year is to go there, and I won’t ruin it for you just because I can’t have it.”

For a painstaking moment, he doesn’t say anything. His shoulders are still rigid and he props his weight into his knees, head bowed so you can’t even see his face in the stark street light. He doesn’t do anything until you do, until you slump with utter defeat.

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Your voice pinches in your throat.

“What else is there? You’ve already decided for the both of us. That stupid fucking program matters more to you than—”

You heat close to explosion.“It’s not stu—”

Wonwoo rushes off the bench. “It is! It is because we’ve been dating for the past three years but you won’t even fucking admit it! You’ll tell some stupid pledge I’m your boyfriend but everytime I think we’ve worked it out – that you’re finally ready to talk about it – you pretend nothing is happening.”

“That wasn’t—” you shake your head.

“It’s fine. I’ll get over it.” 

You move quicker than he does and find his hand, but he doesn’t want to stay and you can’t stop him from leaving. “Wonwoo.” 

“Stop.” His voice is stoic, whatever emotions previously controlling him locked up tight behind faux dismissal. “Just…stop.” 

If you’re going to lie then the smallest favor you can do is obey his command. You hide your face in your hands, cheeks hot and eyes stinging. Because if you look at him then you’ll break into a million pieces. You’d admit to lying to his face; that you could so much as entertain the idea of hating him.

Wonwoo waits but you say nothing. No argument, no final comment. 

When you finally look up he’s far enough down the sidewalk that the pathetic croak of his name is unheard.

Endpoint: a critical moment in a chemical process where a specific change indicates that the reaction is complete. 

Two days later, when you finally get the balls to call Wonwoo and apologize, to tell him he’s right and that you’re an absolute idiot, he’s already blocked your number.

In a game of passive aggressive pettiness, Wonwoo takes gold.

He won’t talk to you outside of class and lab hours. Even then, he refuses to look at you; talks straight around you. Any form of correspondence you receive has Dr. Wagner’s name attached and anything you send without it is loudly ignored. 

Other people notice too.

In study hours, the students notice, whisper to each other when Wonwoo snubs your attempt to discuss a batch of graded homework in favor of focusing his attention on a cowering freshman who looks like he might piss himself when Wonwoo calls him by name. All the others bury their heads in their textbooks in fear he’ll pick them next.

In Nano, when he shows up just in the nick of time to leave his self-assigned seat next to you empty, and instead sitting next to the door. You feel the eyes on you, hair standing on end at the back of your neck when Dr. Lim stutters through his intro with wide eyes at the scene.

Seungkwan shows up to tutoring significantly less interested in your love life. Or he pretends he isn’t. He doesn’t ask outright and there’s pity in his eyes, thick enough you want to burst into the tears you’ve waited to come for the past two weeks. Instead you feel hollow. 

Even Mr. Lee, the night guard at the library, eyes your solitary exit with something like concern. Even going so far as to call campus public safety to escort you the short walk home.

Your other friends try to take you out, get your mind off the tilt in your world axis. You go. Sit at bar tables and laugh when you're supposed to, make empty conversations with strangers but you don’t care. You want to go home and curl up in your own misery like a blanket and cry until your eyes swell shut and pass out from exhaustion. Eventually, they stop asking if you want to come and just leave ice cream and bottles of wine on your doormat as support.

Your grades don’t suffer, and that’s the only thing you can cling to right now.

In Dr. Wagner’s office, an impromptu meeting under the guise of setting final exam expectations and tinkering the schedule, Wonwoo continues the harsh coldness of silence; content to pretend you don’t even exist. 

You work through it easily enough. You and Wonwoo have the same finals so there's only two schedules (Dr. Wagner’s and your shared one) to coordinate for extra study hours. The entire ordeal takes ten minutes to complete the shared calendar, pack it full of final lab meetings and deadlines for grading.

And when it’s over, you move to rise but Dr. Wagner stops you short.

She looks sheepish which is an odd sight. Immediately, you go to the worst. You grit and swallow and sit back down in the same upholstered chair from the last time she dropped a bomb in your lap. 

This is the bandaid rip you’ve waited for all semester. Whatever is at the end of this meeting means you finally know if you’re good enough or not. If karma does justice and gives Wonwoo the spot in Dr. Collins lab next year because you committed the sin of wanting it too much, sacrificed too much.

“It seems my attempt at friendly competition had some…unintended consequences.”

Where sizzling anger would once flourish and bloom, nothing but empty exhaust stutters to life. “What?”

“Last year, the second my TAs found out I’d recommended them, they slacked off. Missing class, incorrect results in the lab. Now I know you two are hard workers but I was afraid senioritis might set in and I’d have to lay down the law. I don’t like being harsh with my students, not directly anyway. I want the best out of them, and I knew I could anticipate the best from you two. I was always planning to recommend both of you to Dr. Collins. I told him he would regret it if he even thought about not making space for you both next year.”

“What?” you repeat again.

There’s a weight on your knee. You don’t even need to look to know it’s Wonwoo’s hand. He doesn’t look before flipping it over when you place yours on top, fingers knotting together; holds it tight like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. You unconsciously squeeze and he mimics without thought.

“So what does this mean?”

“Dr. Collins can’t outright say it but he’s on the admissions board and decides who gets to join his lab. He was adamant that both of you join him in Boston.”

“But we haven’t even—”

“I know, but the application is a formality at this point.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Your work speaks for itself.”

Wonwoo is still there, clenching your hand for dear life. Waiting for the other shoe to drop because there is no way – no way – it’s this easy. Months at each other's throat from the tension and for nothing. You’re sweaty, heart thumping loud enough it might break from your chest and skitter on Dr. Wagner’s desk. She keeps talking and you still haven’t looked at Wonwoo.

“I’m so proud of you both!” she beams. “And I’m sorry if I’ve…complicated things…for the two of you. It was never my intention. Now, go! Rest! Take the day off and celebrate. Send me the links to your applications and I’ll do my part so you can finally relax before finals.”

The pair of you shuffle outside like zombies. In broad daylight, the world keeps spinning and someone drops their coffee a little further down the street and curses a storm; a car honks at a biker, there's packs of students shuffling around where you stand dumbfounded. Your sweater does little to block the chill of late November wind.

Wonwoo still hasn’t let go of your hand.

“Did that just happen?” he asks.

“What the fuck.”

“What the fuck.”

Your laughing, deranged and fatigued cackles that earn several looks but on the cusps of finals it’s not uncommon enough to stop anyone out of concern. “What the fuck!”

You’re not sure what to do. Celebrate? Cry? 

It’s a little bit of both as Wonwoo swoops in, wrapping his arms around you tight enough to squeeze a surprised scream from your lungs. He’s not done, lifting and spinning you around in a quick circle before crying, “What the fuck!”

You laugh, snorting ugly cackles as he almost drops you with both of you gasping for breath. Completely deranged but what just happened that the rift between you momentarily heals.

Wonwoo sets you down gently but keeps close, his hands your waist like he’s afraid to let go. Like he’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him. You finally look at him, and it’s the first breath of air after drowning for hours. The creases around his eye, the happy wrinkles around his nose. His hair is long enough it brushes your skin where your foreheads almost touch. His hold is like a cocoon of warmth.

“I’m sorry!” you blurt. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m stupid and stubborn and I’ve been so caught up in this program that I—”

“No,” he shakes his head, arms tightening as you squirm in his hold.

“Let me finish.”

“No,” he says. “I like that you're stubborn and a pain in the ass. And it wasn’t fair that I expected you to just push aside something like grad school for me. I was being selfish and—”

“I love you.”

You might say it again just to see the way he chokes and turns purple; pulls you closer. He’s at a loss for words and you capitalize on the moment.

“I’ve thought about what would happen if I didn’t get in, like a million different possibilities and never once were you not there. I felt like…I don’t know, honestly. Like I was losing you and it was easier to be upset about the program than admit that. It was stupid and I’m stupid, and I’m really bad at speeches so…feel free to shut me up or whatever.”

You wait for him to process what you’ve said – a million emotions swiping across his face. Ridiculous some people act like he’s the embodiment of stoicism because if you know what to look for then they’d realize he’s terrible at hiding the way he feels.

“You love me?”

All that crying you did in the past few weeks means nothing because you could cry right now. But you don’t look away, you don’t ever want to look away from him again because you’d miss the way his face softens.

“Well, we’ve been dating for the past three years. It’s about time I told you.”

Wonwoo doesn’t speak, facing morphing into confusion before he scoffs with disbelief. “You’re so annoying.”

“Hey!” you stomp but Wonwoo pulls you closer, buries his face in your neck and squeezes so tight something feels on the verge of popping in your spine. His ears burn red as he whispers those three words back quietly enough you strain to hear them. He bites your shoulder just to be an asshole.

“What the hell was that for?” 

He does it again.

“Stop biting me you freak, we’re in public.” You pinch his side for good measure and only then does he smash the side of his face to yours and begin walking you backwards, in the direction of your apartment.

“Whatever, you love me.”

He lets you walk normally at the cross walk, your hand in his, both tangled in the warmth of the pocket of his sweatshirt because it’s fucking cold and the wind isn’t helping. Wonwoo drags you straight home, up the stairs, and crowds you against the door and kisses you until you can’t breathe.

“Why are you crying?”

You are. You don’t even realize it had started until you reach up and feel the dampness on your cheeks.

“Probably because I haven’t slept in two days and I missed you, idiot.” Wonwoo kisses you flat on the mouth again at the confession, smiling big enough it’s less of a kiss and more of teeth pressed together. But it’s good. You like it. You speak into his mouth, “I promise I would have really ‘sloppy I love you sex’ but I’m so tired I think I might throw up.”

“You missed me.” he hums, more of a statement than a question.

“Yeah, big head, I missed you. Now let’s sleep.”

“God,” he moans, biting his lip in mock pleasure. Maybe even real pleasure at the idea of a Friday afternoon full of nothing but hazy dreams in silence rarely found in a frat house. “I love you too.”

You undress straight down to your underwear. Cotton with a conservative cut because in no universe did you think you’d end the day with Wonwoo back in your orbit. Wonwoo who loves you, Wonwoo who you love back. But he eyes you like you’re a grand prize and all he wants is to touch you. But the rush of adrenaline keeping you conscious is burning out quickly.

He strips too, nothing but boxers and circles under his eyes but he’s happy. It radiates off him in waves and if you weren’t part of it, you’d throw something at him because it’d be annoying. You might just be glowing too.

You slip under the covers and Wonwoo snuggles up behind you, a second skin with his hand flat to your stomach to keep you from going anywhere. Not that you would. You don’t even remember falling asleep. 

When you wake up, it’s dark outside; which could mean it’s been minutes or hours since the winter sun likes to deep beneath the horizon early in the afternoon. It’s the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

Everything is warm; your body beneath the comforter, where sweat sticks at your back, the lips dragging across the curve of your neck, Wonwoo’s crotch firm between your legs.

“Good morning to me,” you sigh.

He hums in happy agreement, tongue traces the shell of your ear before kissing across your cheek and chin and finally landing on your mouth with a kiss that can only be described as sappy.

“Got started without me?” Your hands press under his underwear, two palms full of his ass holding him still enough to grind up into. Something about a sleepy make out has you hungry to lay there and take whatever he’ll offer.

“I’ll catch you up, don’t worry.” 

You snicker, “No wonder those freshmen have crushes on you.”

“What do you mean?” He traces your naked sides with his fingers.

“I’ll catch you up,” you mock, then wince from a razor of his teeth as he shifts down your chest. “If you were my TA, I’d try to fuck you.”

“I’m trying to have’ sloppy I love you sex’ and you’re trying to goad me into some student teacher shit?”

He bites your side, just a nip but you flare and blush anyway. “Ooooo, tell me I’m bad.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You love me.”

“As I was saying,” he whispers into your stomach, fingers tugging your panties off. “Sloppy I love you sex.”

“Okay, okay.” You sink a hand in his hair only for him to tug it away, fingers laced together over your sternum as he strokes you to life. “O-oh, that’s—fuck.”

He hikes a leg up over his shoulder, out of the way for the fingers that satisfy the empty squeeze in your gut. Your tongue prickles with another goad but Wonwoo senses it first and swiftly works to silence you with a hot kiss to your clit that makes your vision bleed red.

The cold of the room works in his favor, pinching your nipples tight until you cave to the need to touch yourself. If the light was on then he’d watch and you get the urge to pause the action just for the chance to watch him watch you.

“Don’t stop,” you grunt. 

He eats it filthy, spit and arousal forming a wet mess slipping down your ass. The way his tongue lashes is nothing short of despicable and you know you’re the one that taught him that and you can’t help but flare with pride. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m—” you chant blindly.

The warmth between your legs surrounds, suffocates until your thighs go numb and your shoulders pull away from the mattress with a groan rivaling porn; but you mean it. Wonwoo means it too. 

You clench harder, revitalized in the stretch of another finger and a clip of teeth on your clit.  You tug at your still clasped hands on your chest, bite into the meat of his palm and let the flood consume you with stiff legs and tears in your eyes. “Oh, Wonwoo – u-ugh. Fuck. Fuck.”

Wonwoo takes it, mouth waiting for every eager roll of your hips; completely unphased until you melt back in the sheets with a pathetic mewl.

He kisses up your body, mouth and cheeks wet and warm. When he reaches your mouth you resist the urge to lick him clean. Something about that feels decidedly unlike sloppy I love you sex. So you slip your tongue between his lips instead and spread your legs until his crotch is level with the raw sensitivity of your own.

“Roll over,” you pant.

Like an asshole, he laughs. And then he drops his weight behind his hips and you actually see stars. “Wanna do it like this.”

“Make love to me,” you croon.

He doesn’t even pretend to stifle the obnoxious snort. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“What happened to sloppy I love you sex?” 

“Getting to it. You like it when I come inside you?” Now he’s the one goading and you’re blushing like you’ve never fucked him before. To be fair, you haven’t fucked him as the man you’re in love with so it’s a first time for the both of you. Wonwoo’s drunk on the power of having you stutter through something so familiar yet new.

“Love it.” 

“Good,” he agrees with a saccharine peck to your nose that makes you feel like a doe eyed virgin again. “I love you.”

Your need for games and pretense dissolves. You just want Wonwoo, all of him, until you can’t take it any more. 

Wonwoo senses the change, noses against your cheek before kissing you. He’s still holding your hand, the other cupping your jaw, thumb tracing the curve of flesh. It’s vulnerable and soft and something you probably could’ve experienced years ago if you weren’t willfully blind.

“I love you, too.”

You whisper the confession so quietly it doesn’t even make a sound but Wonwoo figures it out because he surges into action, pulling you to the center of the mattress in all your naked glory. The flood light from the side of the building reflects back in through the slats in the blinds and Wonwoo sits up to soak in what he can see in the limited light.

Twisting a hand in his hair, you pull him down for a kiss; forcing all the emotions you have to the surface. He doesn’t make you wait. Instead, he drops flat, flat together from head to toe as he slips inside. You’re still tight and sensitive, squirming at the feeling of being stretched so thin with Wonwoo wrapped tight in your arms.

“W-wonwoo,” you mewl. You know he loves the sound of his name, any time, in desperate moans and sleepy coos. You’ll say it as much as he wants to hear if he kisses you like he is now – with something new at the edge. Something needy. “More.”

He wraps your legs around his hips, folding you clean in half with a heavy rut into your pussy you’ll feel for days. You both want to drag this out – take hours to come apart and come together again and again – but Wonwoo is already working a hand between your bodies; stroking you over hot coals just to hear you moan his name again.

In record speed, you feel that familiar burn creeping along your spine. He fucks you into a wet mess and it’s all you can do to hold on and claw up his back. Breaks you into something limp and pliant, hands twisted together over head; tugs at that loose thread over and over until you unravel beneath him and Wonwoo watches like it’s magic.

“Oh- oh, Wonwoo–” you cry. Actually cry. Tears he swipes away with a thumb before pressing his mouth to yours.

You’re swollen and stiff, muscles taunt while they twitch from a rush of complete bliss.

“M cumming, baby – oh my god.” Wonwoo bucks into the tight squeeze of your legs, deeper, harder, more. “Love you—fuck.”

He hides with soft sighs in your neck, skin sticky where you both slide together. You cradle him to your chest, fingers rushing through the sweaty tangles on his hair gently. A kiss to his head, his brow, his nose that wrinkles from pure content.

But you’re not done yet.

You wiggle from beneath him, peeling yourself off the pillows, lower half still numb from one hell of an orgasm. But you want more, insatiable and doped on years of repressed fondness. “Can you go again?” 

Wonwoo looks like you asked him to run a marathon. “You want me to die?”

“Worse ways to go,” you coo, sinking low enough to take his cock in your mouth. It tastes like you and him and it makes your eyes roll.

“God. I didn’t know sappy sex meant you’d try to kill me,” he moans airly under your ministrations, a hand at the back of your head when you show off with a nose to his crotch before sliding off. “You’re evil.”

“I’m in love with a sexy nerd and I'm horny,” you sigh dreamily, thrilled with the way he pulses in your hold.

“Yeah, well…” he gives up on whatever rebuttal under the weight of your body on top of his. Nothing he can argue with in that statement anyway so you tease him with a kiss, smile when he chases your mouth, roll when you realize he can taste the mix of you both off your tongue.

“You know…I’ll need a roommate in Boston.”

“Huh,” Wonwoo feigns. His focus is on the way your tug at his cock, spit and cum webbed between your fingers. This isn’t the best way to have this conversation but you’re both high on sleep deprivation, love, and orgasms and it encourages loose lips.

“Know anyone interested?”

He shudders back into the pillow, leaving his neck open for your teeth with a choked, “Yeah.”

“Who?”

“Me.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah —fuck—wanna wake up to you every morning.”

“Even if I’m a cranky bitch?” Your knees bracket his hips, cunt split on his cock as you grind against the underside.

His stomach caves as he responds with a thin voice, “yeah.”

You like waking up to him too. Falling asleep with him tangled in your body, listening to him hum in the shower when he thinks you aren’t listening. Sometimes he even sings with a little encouragement like those times you were sick and the only thing that got your mind from exploding like thunderclaps was the lullabies from his childhood that he cooed into your hairline.

Starting and ending everyday with Wonwoo sounds nothing short of blissful.

“Okay.” You tangle his fingers with your own, rising on your knees to distract from the sheepish smile splitting your face in two.

“Really?”

“I like having you around,” you admit, sinking down on his cock. “Makes me feel better.”

Weird conversation over the back track of slapping skin and pathetic muffled sobs but you like it. Feels well overdue.

“A-about?”

Everything.

He gives a tender squeeze to your thigh, cradles your face in both hands, eye contact that you fight not shutter away from because it’s terrifying he can see you clearly. 

He’s lost; completely mesmerized by the way you bounce on the length of him, grind back into his lap like you’re possessed.

“Can’t last—” he chokes.

“S’okay,” you press the words into his cheek, his jaw, the bones jutting from around his collar. “Just wanna feel you.”

You bend and strain for his pleasure, to watch it dance across his brow as he cums inside you again, his hands heavy on your ass, your thighs, whatever he reflexively grips in a bid for grounding, nails leaving streaks of color. Twitching and jerking in sensitive painful bliss, his eyes roll back with a quick exhale. “Fuck-k.”

You're sticky and used between the legs but you take comfort in the feeling and bask in the glow on top of him. Nothing but a pile of satisfied boneless goo where you lay with sweaty skin and heat you feel from the top of your head to your toes. “Good?”

“Great,” he hums, pulling into one last toe numbing kiss. 

When feeling returns to your bodies, you spend the rest of the night eating greasy pizza on the couch in nothing but his shirt, drinking wine straight from the bottle in celebration. You kiss Wonwoo whenever you want, which, admittedly, is a lot; a flurry of sappy pecks over his face leaves him blushing and dewy. When you fall asleep after making love once again, the last thing you hear is him saying he loves you too.

Epilogue

4 months later…

There’s a certain level of comfort that comes with receiving an official acceptance email. The words you’ve been waiting to hear since Dr. Wagner all but confirmed your future in a fifteen minute meeting last semester.

On behalf of the Chemistry department, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a part of…

The big envelope in the mail today helped too.

Wonwoo sends a photo of his, unopened, because you promised to open them together tonight. On your date; which is nothing more than grading assignments and eating leftover take out on the couch like so many nights have been spent already. But this time he’s your boyfriend. And after all the worksheets are graded, and you get to cuddle deep into the worn couch cushions, you get to tell him you love him and he’ll say it back and the flutter in your veins at the thought is nothing short of magical. 

And this time you have a surprise waiting for him and he might just cry. Or you hope so. You’ve got $50 riding on the possibility.

You’re sweating through your shirt from putting the new piece of furniture together for the past three hours by the time he shows up with a bag of takeout, Thai food from the place on Market where they know you by order, and a kiss you’ve been missing since the morning when he left for one of his stupid workouts. 

Wonwoo sets the bag on the counter, immediately pulling you into his arms before sagging like a deflated balloon. “Pixel got adopted today.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He’s moping. He accepts your placating kiss with a pout, and starts unpacking the food.

You feel the smallest flutter of guilt but it's worth it.  “That sucks.” 

“She needed a good home.” Wonwoo confirms and that's the end of the conversation.

Even in your final semester, your schedules are still packed. Crammed full with meetings, exams, work, Wonwoo’s volleyball stuff that you attend with posters and sit near the other girlfriends. It’s weird but not because its the same stuff you two were doing for years. But it’s exhausting.

So you don’t blame Wonwoo for not noticing the newest addition to your apartment until he’s inhaled his food and the last third of yours.

“Babe.”

“What?” you ask, focusing on cutting another red slash into the white paper.

“What’s that?”

He points at the gigantic cat tower in the corner next to the couch. It’s cramped in tight but in two months you’ll both be in Boston with a bigger apartment with real bedrooms so it’s only temporary.

You shrug and make another mark. “Oh, just something I picked up.”

“You don’t have a cat.”

“Huh. Weird.” Your eyebrows furrow in mock confusion but you keep grading papers or else it’s game over and the need to watch him puzzle together your plans is all you want. “Then what’s the thing in the bathroom?”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” you confirm.

Wonwoo stares open mouthed, between you and the bathroom door and back to you. He might pinch himself but he flies off the couch with childlike eagerness and your face hurts from smiling already.

Pixel spends the rest of the night curled up asleep on her new dad’s lap and you’re $50 richer. Mingyu’s girlfriend is already offering to catsit despite Mingyu’s pouts about losing money.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts

@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially

@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

@lukeys-giggle @aaa-sia @tinkerbell460

[itsyourstarboy]

Streamer!Honey Headcanons Pt.5

First Part

AT LONG LAST.... THE STREAMER!HONEY HEADCANONS FINALE

Note: This may be the last part, but it is not the end of Streamer!Honey!!! Just the long-winded headcanon posts. I have more planned for the future ^^ mini-fics, shitposts, all sorts of shenanigans <3

—

The punch became a meme. Honey hates it, and Guy hates that Honey hates it.

But god if it isn’t hilarious.

It took a good few months for Honey to stop beating themself up over it, and now they are able to look back on it and laugh. They even have a GIF of the moment as an alert for gifted subs.

—

Charity streams!!! Honey loves doing them. It’s fun, and for a good cause.

And, though it’s fun, sometimes it can get out of hand.

It was meant to be a joke! But, before they knew it, they hit the donation goal...

♡♡♡♡♡♡

HFDJSFEJGGFJSK

IM FREAKING OUT

CANTWAITCANTWAITCANTWAIT

I can’t believe they’re actually doing this 🤭🤭🤭

I DONT KNOW IF MY GAY LITTLE HEART WILL BE ABLE TO HANDLE IT

The sound of the door opening made chat go mostly still.

Honey, very reluctantly with an embarrassed scowl on their face, stepped into camera view.

They stood stiffly, pondering how they ended up here. Here, on stream, in front of thousands of perfect strangers...

Wearing a maid outfit.

Not even a comfortable one! It was frilly, and itchy, and the skirt was way too fucking short.

OMFGNO I FCKING CANT-

🤣🤣🤣🤣

I CANT BREATHE

OH MY GOOOOOOOD

You look so cute!!!

THIS WAS SO WORTH THE MONEY

IM WHEEZING AND I CANT FIND MY INHALERR

HSGJJFHZJAHHAHAHAH

Oh 😳😳

WHY IT LOOK KINDA GOOD THO??

[HONEY’S] TOO HOT THEY KILLED SOMEBODY

“I hate everything,” Honey muttered, as they tried to tug the dress down. It was bad enough that it was so revealing, but it also wouldn’t zip up all the way.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

It would only get worse, however, as the next goal would add thigh highs.

And the one after that would add...

SAY NYA RIGHT FUCKING NOW

AaaaawwwWWWW WHAT A CUTE KITTY

You mean “right fucking meow?”

THEY LOOK SO PISSED LMAO

SAY NYA RIGHT FUCKING MEOW

They’re gonna kill us 😭😭😭😭

IM QUEER

With what? Their wittle paws?? 😽😽

This is my phone lockscreen now

Simp

“Yeah, you all better enjoy this, ‘cause I’m never doing it again.”

Doubt it, this is the fastest we’ve ever raised money

NOOOOOOOOO

Still waiting for you to say nya

NYAAAAAANTS INGONYAMA BAGITHI BABA

ITS THE CIIIIIIIIRRRRCLE OF LIIIIIIIIIFEEE

“I’m not saying that.”

tf you’re not-

★someone donated $50★

SAY NYA BITCH

Honey heaved out a sigh that bordered a growl, and very blandly, “nya.”

As Chat cheered and went practically feral, Honey could only be glad that this couldn’t possibly get any wors-

They froze as they heard the Jaws theme start playing.

“Oh f-”

HE’S HEEEERE

YEEEEEEEESS

HoneysHeaven: wowah 😳

THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER

HOLY CRAP SOMEONE TAGGED HIM ON TWITTER 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

HoneyHeaven: hey there Honey ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

SOMEONE SNITCHED????

Honey braced their elbows on their desk and hid their face in their hands. “Go back to working.”

HoneysHeaven: I will if you promise to still be wearing that when I get home 👀👀

“I’m burning it as soon as this stream ends.”

NOO YOU CANT BURN IT YOU LOOK SO SEXYY 😩😩

The boy just wants to see you all dolled up Boo, let him have his treat

“The next 15 minutes are going to be hell.”

HoneysHeaven: oooh the next goal you put on a collar, hm? 😏😏

Guy ur killing even me rn

OH WAIT I JUST GOT GUYS USERNAME

HoneysHeaven: Honey can you send me like $70

“I am not sending you money.”

HoneysHeaven: awww cmon 🥺🥺 my break ends in 2 minutes I just want to see you in a collar

ITS FOR CHARITY

DONATE TO THE CAUSE

“I’ll put you in a collar,” Honey grumbled with their arms crossed tightly.

HoneysHeaven: wouldn’t be the first time 😉

HOW DO WE RAISE ANOTHER 500 IN 10 MINUTES

AYO WHAT????

—

Guy likes interrupting Honey’s streams unprompted. He loves seeing the smile on their face. The gentle one that they wear while doing what they love. It makes him want to smother them in kisses.

Sometimes when he does this, he forgets about the mask and glasses. There have been plenty of times where he’s nearly accidentally exposed his face to the world, and it gives his honey a mini heart attack each time.

Honey made the executive decision to rearrange their setup so that the door was no longer in view. That way, Guy could spontaneously enter as much as he pleased.

—

Honey was still streaming when Guy returned home from work. They had told him in advance that this stream would be dragging on a bit longer than normal.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

Honey looked up as they heard the door click open. Guy entered, waving a paper bag around.

“Honeeeey,” he sang, “I’ve brought you somethiiiiing.”

is that the boy i hear 👀👀👀

EVERYONE SHUT UP I NEED TO WITNESS THIS

DETROIT CAN WAIT THIS IS IMPORTANT

Honey eyed the bag skeptically as Guy drew closer, “should I be worried?”

“No,” Guy laughed, stopping right outside of the camera’s view. “I brought you donuts!”

“Ooh, really? What’s your motive?”

“Wha-? Motive!? Why do you think I would have a motive?”

Honey raised an eyebrow at their boyfriend and smirked.

Immensely offended, Guy scoffed, “what, am I not allowed to bring the most important person in my life a treat? Purely out of my own volition and the kindness of my heart?”

“I was joking before, but now I’m actually suspicious...”

“Just take the donuts, Honey,” Guy softly spoke with a warm smile, holding out the bag and leaning forward.

When Honey’s hand brushed against his own, Guy leaned closer, his other hand cupping the back of their neck. He held the bag up to hide his face from viewers as he placed a gentle kiss on his partners cheek.

Honey, growing ever more flustered, let out a nervous chuckle as they pushed Guy away and accepted the gifts.

AWWWWHDWSAIHDGDKDSBIDS

ITS HAPPENING

OMG

NO

DID HE KISS THEM??

WHERE IS THE CLIP I NEED TO SEE THAT AGAIN

When you’re so lonely you’re living vicariously through someone in your screen

UH YEAH THATS THE POINT

OF COURSE

I GOT THE CLIP I GOT IT

Chat wouldn’t stop talking about it for the entire rest of the stream.

And for the next 4 streams after that...

—

Chat knows that Guy is important to Honey. No other roommate of theirs has ever become such a big part of their life, everyone knows that they have to be something more.

They stopped bugging Honey about it after a year. It's just kind of common knowledge that these two have a lot of chemistry, but asking straight up about their relationship won't work.

Not that having an answer would change anything, Chat loves seeing how happy Honey is with Guy.

—

It took a little over a year for Honey to agree, but finally they are streaming a game with Guy!!

They're playing Raft. Honey in their streaming room, and Guy in the living room. They're communicating through discord, and Chat is having a blast.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Did you finish building that engine yet?" Honey asked, filling a chest with some items.

"No, I thought you were going to do it," Guy answered.

"I literally told you to go ahead and make one two minutes ago!"

"I was busy distracting the shark while you were scavenging all that shit underwater!"

We should get them couples counciling

Guy can't keep being shark bait ooh ah ah 😭😭

I still don't understand the point of this game

It's his destiny

Raft

raft

The point is raft

RAFT

"Honey, I think I'm dying. My hunger bar is low."

"Then eat something, we have plenty of food."

"I don't think I can make it back in time," Guy whined.

"Wh- where are you??"

You could practically hear Guy's pout, "I went back on the island because you were mad at me."

"I am not mad at you," Honey responded, exasperated, "where are you at on the island?"

"Uhmm... I'm in a place with lots of trees."

"Okay, I'm bringing you some shark meat."

"The shark is dead?"

"Yeah I killed it."

[HONEY] MOVE FASTER WE CANT LET HIM DIE

They are playing the game so wrong I am ripping my hair out

Tip: multiple sails will make you go faster

They can play however they want to 😡

The only right way to do anything is the [Honey] and Guy way

"Oh shi-" Guy started, "I'm dead."

"You're fiiine."

"No, my character just collapsed from hunger."

"Don't be dramatic, I'm almost there."

"I'm not being dramatic!! I died!!!"

"A little death never killed anybody."

Honey found Guy's character, limp on the ground, and picked him up.

"Alright, you big baby, I'll take you to the bed."

"Oooooh," Guy sang impishly, "you're carrying me to bed?"

"Yep."

"What are you gonna do with me once we get there?"

"When we get there, you are gonna build that goddamn engine!"

Upon arrival to the raft, Honey discovered something...

"Where the fuck is the bed??"

Guy coughed out a laugh, "oh, uhm- I might've taken it with me when I left."

"Why would you do that!?!?"

"Because you were mad at me!!!"

"I swear to god-" Honey dropped Guy's carcass on the raft and went to collect materials to make another bed.

"Honeeeeey," Guy whined, "this wooden floor is hard."

Honey sighed, "I'm making you a bed, hold on."

"Come lay underneath meeee."

AGDKSGAKBFK

Boi he wants them under him 👀👀

Can't believe they let Guy die, I'll never forgive them for this 😢🤧😖 /lh /j

Our boy really stepped up his flirting game 😳😳😳

Too bad [Honey] is too oblivious

They're not oblivious, they're an asshole

A distinct sound of sharp teeth chomping into their hard work caught Honey's attention.

"Fuckin' hell," they murmured, "the stupid shark is back."

"Hurry up making the bed and I can kill it," Guy offered.

"I thought you were making the bed," Honey retorted.

Guy scoffed, "Honey!!!!"

"I gotta stab the shark, hold on."

Cold blooded

Yeah

They don't deserve Guy I'm gonna kidnap him

That shark is an endangered species!!!

DoNT YOU DARE GUYNAP OUR BELOVED BOY

Finally, finally, Honey returned and placed Guy's character on the bed. He sprang up immediately.

Guy's cheerful voice started up, "yayyy, thank you Hone-" and was cut off with a yelp.

The shark had glitched through the bottom of the raft and attack Guy. It scared him half to death, but Honey?

Honey was laughing hysterically.

And it was music to Guy's ears.

Gasping for breath, they kept trying to say something, but continuously fell into a fit of giggles.

Guy was barely able to form his own words without laughing, trying to feign offense at his honey's joy in seeing him hurt. But hearing them laugh so heartily? He couldn't help but melt.

And he didn't want to just hear it, he wanted to see it.

"I'm coming to get you, Honey!" He announced, just before darting towards their room.

"No, no no!" They tried to object, but it was too late as Guy came bursting in.

They were in his arms and on the floor in an instant, tears streaming down their face as they tried to breathe.

Their face hurt from smiling, and they tried to calm down, but as soon as their breathing slowed Guy started to tickle them.

"Guy-! No!! Stop it!" They squealed and squirmed, but to no avail. Their previous laughing fit left them exhausted.

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I feel like we shouldn't be watching this

HES SO CUTE????

GUY FACE REVEAL!!!!!

EVERYONE SHIELD YOUR EYES

TURN OFF YOUR DEVICES THIS IS ILLEGAL

Wait I think I've seen him before!

When all settled down, Guy and Honey were nothing but a mess of tangled limbs on the floor, just barely out of frame.

"I love you, Honey," he said softly.

Honey smiled, "I love you too."

—

When the couple realized that Guy was no longer anonymous, Honey made him start carrying pepper spray while he worked.

Gotta keep the boy safe.

The End.

A/N: Thank you for reading the Streamer!Honey series ♡ I've loved writing it, and it makes me so happy that you all loved it as well!

[beeben]

hi, i was a previous victim of ultimatehater/realultimatehater, i can go message you off anon if you wish

i have a gif aesthetic side blog and in my main blog i post media edits. i posted a gifset from each hh on my main, and reblogged some of them to my aes blog bc i have more followers there.

anyways RUH sent my over 50 death threats that i decided not to acknowledge at all. i did delete them so i have no evidence. many of them felt ai generated, just generic 'your edits are ugly, no one likes you, kill yourself' messages. nothing really outside that, i didnt receive any doxxing/rape threats

anyways i DID answer one ask, and then she proceeded to claim i somehow edited the ask???? that is literally not possible, and more concerning people believed it???

BUT ALSO before ultimatehater was deleted, if you went back enough to her blog, you can see her original url was a bunch of numbers. before getting to hazbin discourse she baited scott vs the world fans, calling them pedophiles. it seems she just wants drama and rn she's making some bold statements in her new blog, that i'll be completely honest and also is just my opinion, i think she is lying.

I feel the same thing ngl.. i don't like to discredit someone's trauma but shes been copy pasting the things she's said to me and then sending them to other people unedited. I genuinely think shes a troll, and attacking random people with fandom blogs hoping to lure in and harm a child. It seems that way from the types of media she obsesses over (hazbin hotel/helluva boss, she ra) ive never heard of scot vs the world but id guess it's probably in that same category tbh. Im really not worried about her claiming to doxx people, claiming to add people to a hit list, i dont believe it. What i do worry about is children interacting with her and thinking she is legitimate. Thats what i mean by luring children. Shes goading people into responding to her and hoping they take her seriously. Children online who watch shows like hazbin hotel (most likely with unrestricted access to the Internet) are EXACTLY the type of "im more emotionally mature than my peers" type of kid that gets pushed into these harmful and frankly predatory groomer esque situations. Even if she's a troll and this is all fake, traumatizing children isnt. She's trying to perform a power play on these kids who are just beginning to understand themes like rape or abuse or racism or brutality and care about them so emotionally as children do, and trying to use it against them. Trying to hurt them

[bonnielunkas]

okay hear me out, hurricane paranormal society dashboard simulator

actually that's a dumb idea forget i said anything

0 notes

🎮 gamerswag39

jesus fucking christ i'm so upset rn. literally got a call over NOTHING. so what if the animatonics are moving at night that doesn't mean shit man. they move at night at my location. they move at night at the pizzaplex. they moved at night in the 80's and 90's. they just do that. and then they had the nerve to get mad at me for not wanting to deal with it? like? just get a technician to deal with it if it's that big of a problem?

📞 phone-a-dude

lmao didn't they like. kill night guards in the 80's/90's

🎮 gamerswag39

yeah? jake our boss's husband literally got assaulted by mangle?

📞 phone-a-dude

yeah i remember him talking about that lmao

📞 phone-a-dude

just checked some company records my dad almost got killed by chica back in like 93 lol

🎮 gamerswag39

didn't your dad literally kill those kids?

📞 phone-a-dude

lmfao yeah

💙 stanleyblogs

238 notes

⚙ exo-gurl

Alright, today's the day guys, gonna be showing off the exosuit in my robotics class. (Made it with a bit of help from @ history-with-shelly but no one in my class needs to know that. Thanks btw Shelly, you're a real one.)

⚙ exo-gurl

I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD I'M GONNA KILL REED STRAIGHT UP TOMORROW. IT IS ON. SIGHT. THEY ARE SO DEAD.

⚙ exo-gurl

HEY SO GUESS WHO HAS A BUNCH OF BROKEN BONES AND DIDN'T KNOW UNTIL AFTER GETTING INTO A REALLY NASTY FIGHT

🖥 coding-and-cats

you're welcome 👍

⚙ exo-gurl

YOU ARE LITERALLY THE REASON THEY'RE BROKEN IN THE FIRST PLACE. DIE.

749 notes

🌀 tgirl-sonic-the-hedgehog

Me and my gf are going on a date later hopefully nothing weird or paranormal happens!

🌀 tgirl-sonic-the-hedgehog

Hey what the fuck is Faz-goo and why is this random kid I don't know warning me about it.

1,253 notes

🔧 cob-rulez

not to name names, but istg i'm this close to dropping one of my friends. he literally went like, 50 in a school zone, almost ran over tobes' boyfriend, and he didn't even fucking apologize? he just kept driving like that didn't happen? like? wtf?

(pete when you see this i'm really sorry my friend almost hit you)

🏈 absolutely-footballin

YOU WERE IN THAT TRUCK TOO????

🔧 cob-rulez

yes unfortunately.

💛 aimees-corner

And this is why I've been telling you to drop him for the last few years.

🔧 cob-rulez

in my defense i haven't been in a truck with him before i thought everyone was just like, exaggerating when they said he's a terrible driver

💛 aimees-corner

Need we forget all the times he's ended up on the news? Enough to where there's a whole post about it?

🛻 trucks-n-shit

gang i'm like, RIGHT HERE.

🌐 certified-hurricane-moment

Certified Hurricane Moments in history

🔧 cob-rulez

HELLO?

13,572 notes

🧃 applesauceboy

Okay so I kinda always figured? I was adopted? Since me and my parents don't look alike at all. But WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE AN OLDER BROTHER I JUST NEVER KNEW ABOUT? I'm hanging out with him right now and like? How did we just never know?

🧃 applesauceboy

His name is Devon btw if like, any of you guys know him.

📓 kaiju-fanboy

I work with him, I guess? He joined the paranormal team I'm in because he accidentally killed a classmate once.

🧃 applesauceboy

HUH?

OZ YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT LIKE IT'S A NORMAL THING?

👾 gregorygaming

oh yeah I know him too lol. apparently he went to that abandoned freddy's out in the woods with his friend and said classmate and the classmate put on a springlock suit and bled out? but then devon went back a week later and his classmate was there and they were fine and then everyone just moved on like nothing happened.

🧃 applesauceboy

WHAT

🧃 applesauceboy

NO WAY YOU GUYS ARE BEING FOR REAL I'M GONNA ASK HIM.

🧃 applesauceboy

WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE ACTUALLY DID THAT SHIT?

136 notes

🦊 yargfoxyforever

hey guys what does it mean if my cousin has blue eyes and his name is freddy and he's really nice

💖 m4rl3y

Alec please stop borderline shit-talking my younger brother I really don't see what the issue is

🦊 yargfoxyforever

chat, Does She Know?

💖 m4rl3y

Alec what does that mean

💖 m4rl3y

Alec

14 notes

🐻 mnm-fazbear-facts

Hey guys, Mandy here with some exciting news!!!! I'm gonna be visiting Utah next week to see my friends!!!! I'll let you guys know if I can learn any cool info on this trip!!! See you guys in a week!!!! ^v^

🐻 mnm-fazbear-facts

Guys I think I'm being haunted.

102 notes

🧢 thegreendemon

WHO TOLD MY BROTHER ABOUT KELSEY

🧢 thegreendemon

@ kaiju-fanboy @ gregorygaming YOU TWO.

46 notes

🌹 heather-the-musical

This close to kicking this random blonde dude out of Film Club, he's annoying when it comes to directing and he can't use a camera to save his life.

🌹 heather-the-musical

No fucking way he just showed me literal footage of a Freddy's just to prove he's a good camera man. What the fuck.

🌹 heather-the-musical

IS THAT A GHOST?

263 notes

💀 tomb-and-gloom

like this post if you love yuri

5,048 notes

🍀 sir-gee-oh

stuck on a phone call with matt. ignoring him isn't enough i need to kill this guy.

[gynandromorph]

anyway honor mode-wise I still haven't hit level 11. nothing majorly close to a tpk but I've been getting maybe a little tiny bit too cocky. I haven't been casting aud and bonus hp spells as reliably as I shojld. I tried picking up the concussion grenades in the audience hall as one does and it turns out in honor mode they just fucking explode if you try to touch should. did this twice on turn one before understanding and it wiped out like 40-50 hp on every party member. 2 of them downed before i could just walk backwards out the door for a take 2. on the flip side I did acquire the runepowder bomb from the iron hands. made ethel unvore the child but i could still go kill her. counselor florrick almost straight up attacked me in the streets for saving her ass because I freed wyll while sacrificing his father in the process. I tried to save him but the guy who activates the ability to even go to the Iron throne glitched out and wouldn't speak to me. he just kept telling me I'd tormented him enough and to leave. so I grabbed the code myself and just blew up the foundry without saving Duke ravengard or fighting anyone. I did try tho. I got to keep the runepowder bomb that way. in addition to the barrels. gortash is the least threatening fight in front of me that isn't a pain in the ass to get to rn. orin kidnapped gale. and uuuuhh that's about it for tonight. I respec'd multiple characters into having the alert feat again because I'm a stupid bitch full of hubris. I think I should go harvest xp from some of the guild/stone lord plot, their fights were also Not Particularly Scary

[companionwolf]

tonight's delta green recap:

- grab the weird photos and fucking GO

- Jay being careful and efficient w the previous point while Jacob goes FUCK FUCK FUCK * tears them off the pins + shove them in pocket* is so. Correct it makes me want to bite (positively)

- this night at the opera interrupted by Wolfs Soup Time: The Soupening (I forgot to eat until now AGAIN yeehaw)

- if Jacob and Jay have to jump out of a window tonight I-- wait the fall damage is A LOT what the shit . I mean it makes sense but DAMN

- they're trying the downstairs window and . Jacob. Jacob. I said ROLL LOWER yesterday. Apparently you didn't listen -_-

-

- however. that would be very IC of him.

- JACOB CAN YOU ROLL LOW FOR THINGS THAT ACTUALLY MATTER (he just failed the Athletics roll -_-)

- lethality 2% ( 1 or 2 = dead) ... BUT HES NOT I GOT A 3 AND A 50. HE JUST. IS UNCONSCIOUS. YAAAY.

-

Honestly my handler nails him here. This is so in character it makes me lol.

- oh Jesus he has 3/13 hp rn . Jacob.

- operation ambush the cops is now underway, please hold for resolution

- me for literally 15 min just now trying to make a tactical decision re Jay's turn:

-

This sounds bad but I'm having fun! ^_^

- no context but MY HANLDER REMAINS THE BEST HANDLER

- COP 1 HAS BEEN SHOT IN THE FACE BY JOY LETS FUCKING [DABS] GO

- handler has deemed cops are not innocents and therefore we don't have to SAN roll unless we kill them (:

- shoutout to cop 1 for having a gunshot wound to the face but still barely missing shooting Jay in the head while also in the fucking dark

- JAY RUSHES OFFICER 2 #YOLO. Also they said 'hell' which is a big thing for them. They don’t usually swear.

- cop 2 rolls to fight back and loses; he is scratched by Jay and not really hurt at all but. at least he lost fight back?

- JEAN FIRST AID ROLLED AND MAX HEALED; JACOB IS .. [I push his slowly waking consciousness back under. He will not be helpful right now. I pat his head affectionately.]

- JAY HAS BEEN SHOT.

- JAY HAS SAID A 2ND SWEAR WORD.

- JEAN THREW A FUCKING HAMMER AT COP 1 AND KILLED HIM IM --

-

- OH SHIT THEY HIT AND ROLLED MAX DAMAGE; COPS ALIVE BUT HURT BAD

- JOY SHOT ABOVE COP IN THE FACE AND HES FUCKING DEAD NOW

- combat over; 2 hrs 20 mins. please GOD can we have some guns now.

-

- I can just imagine the group going back to Sunday like 'so here's what happened' and he just goes [SIGH]

- going to Jean's motel to do surgical things (they have relevant background)

- so because Jay's Thing(TM) is Forensics, they know they a) all left enough blood to get checked against by records b) either they have 2 weeks or 48 hours and c) they are on record; they don't know about everyone else

- does it count if Jay says the fuck word but it's just them using someone else's words? unsure wolf is unsure but lol'ing

- surgery time for Jay! Then the woman they found at the apartment & Jacob.

- surgery success from Jean; Jay is at 12/13 health & the apartment woman is also like. Better now. Jacob's turn.

- surgery roll from Jean for Jacob succeds as well, yaaaayyyy

-

- eepy time for Jay and also wolves. bye

[dndidgaf]

I never get asks, so i'm just gonna answer them all. Wall of text, my answers under the cut

PLAYER

Race: I don't think that I've ever played a common race before. I default to uncommon/homebrew races for better roleplay.

Class: Rogue....... Maybe Artificer.

Playtest: I'm going into a new campaign, and I can't wait to try out the Chaneler class (I definitely spelled that wrong). I can't remember who it's by.

Party Comp: Sometimes. If my party is really tanky and gets themselves on the brink of death a lot, I might consider being a Cleric or Bard. On the other hand, if my party is mostly spellcasters, I might take on the role of tank. In both cases, I only do it in drastic situations. My usual character is an ambush, stealthy, works behind the scenes kind of character. Level One: I heard about it through friends and we make a group. They really helped me out in making a character, and it was a fun first session. Horrible character build and usage on my part though. Skill: I'm good at roleplay and combat, although I find combat more fun. I guess I would say that my specialty is teamwork. I look at my party's strengths and weaknesses and work around and with them. I also usually work better with smaller groups. I do add flair into combat though, like that time I sliced that priest in half and peeled him like a banana.

Scheduling: Long campaigns, by far. Oneshots are fun, but the angst that comes with longer campaigns takes the cake.

Feat: I roll my dice until they hit a low number, preferably under 5. I then keep that die untouched until I need to roll something important, then use the die. Rolls high every time. I always forget to do it though.

Nat 20: My friend AJ (player) rolled a 27 (19 + 8) on a deception check trying to convince an NPC that they don't exist. Charlie (the character) went invisible and all proof of their existence was wiped from the face of the earth. NPCs and PCs alike had no memory of Charlie. Charlie stayed non-existent for the rest of the session until at a critical battle, where they scored a crit against the enemy (not quite the big bad, but close) and was the reason we won the fight.

Initiative: In my next campaign (I'm the DM), I've planted a traitor. This traitor is going to kill a child. I can't wait to roleplay the child being killed by her role model, who is a scummy, greasy, rat man. I can't wait to kill my players' hearts.

Crit Fail: Somehow, no. I've come close, but I've never had a character death.

Diamond: No resurrection. My party's character deaths have all been before anyone had access to the Revivify spell. After that, we could handle ourselves enough that we didn't need it.

Backup: I have a binder full of cool characters that could fit into any situation, but I usually have at least 3 backup characters specifically for one campaign. Don't judge, I get bored easily.

Dungeon Court: Back when I was a kid, my dad tried to run a dnd game with the rest of the immediate family, which consisted of my mom, me, and my brother. Thing is, my dad didn't know anything about how DnD works, and he was drunk and high. That was not a fun game.

Dice: I have a horrible dice curse. Any dice that I touch or are on my person for more than 10 minutes doesn't roll higher than a 10. Expensive dice tend to roll better. Once I get a new set, I immediately hold it over a candle and chant "Natural Twenty" for 10 minutes while the candle is surrounded by crystals and flowers. After this, I leave it on the Dice Altar, highest side up, for a week. This usually rids it of it's curse temporarily. For a typical set, I have to renew it every month. Considering that I'm a dice goblin and that I own over 50 sets (I can't afford more :')) , I set aside a day to purify all my dice sets and rotate them on the altar.

DUNGEON MASTER

Leveling: I start my party at 3-5, depending on experience. I use milestones; it's good motivation to stay on the plot. I'm DMing for 7th level players rn.

Prep: I get the bare bones of the story all written out, then just improvise and wing it. It goes better that way. Less DM Depression.

Screen: Character sheets of PCs and NPCs, dice, laptop for homebrew, and speakers for ambiance and music.

TPK: Yes, unfortunately. I decided to let all characters come back as reborn, which saved the party, kept some continuity, and added some good roleplay.

Session Zero: I usually ask players for two flaws and one secret. This keeps things interesting, as I can exploit these. It makes inspiration easier to give. I also love horror campaigns, so I usually ask players what their boundaries or triggers are. I want my players to have fun, so I do what I can to make that happen.

Homebrew: I love making magic items or finding them on tumblr. I use a lot of the stuff people put out. I also have an initiative system where players in blocks of five (1-5, 6-10, 11-15, 16-20, 20-25, you get the jist) take their turns together. It makes combat more fun and dynamic.

CHARACTER

My character's name is Doodle. He is a warforged rogue that escaped from a facility known as A.R.G.O. He was never told what the acronym means. He wears a red scarf and a beige handkerchief over his right eye from a past injury.

Background: He usually uses his time on self-maintenance. Tighten loose screws, fix oil leaks, adjust lenses, buff or replace plating. After an accident with his lens caused it to give him shattered vision and migraines for about two months, he's not taking the chances again. He also loves talking to another PC named Charlie (same one as before)

Vibe: Doodle is the polite one of the group. In social interactions, he ends up becoming a voice of reason. He has anger issues though, and he tries to conceal them, but his only coping mechanism is killing. He was made for it, after all. Our party doesn't discuss dynamics, but I wish we did.

Downtime: We don't get much downtime in game. We usually hop from one adventure to the next, trying to stop the big bad as fast as possible. In his few spare moments, he meditates to calm his anger. Sometimes this doesn't work very well though, so he has to resort to... other means.

Secret: For context, Doodle was kidnapped by the big bad and a clone replaced him. Doodle was tortured, and it scarred him for life. He is merciless in battle, like he is trying to pay back the pain that was inflicted on him. Anger is replacing is fear, and he disgusts himself. Doodle acts nonchalant, but he is secretly resentful that his party members didn't notice and left him to be tortured for weeks.

Heart: He hopes for a better life. One where he doesn't have to fight. That faint linger of hope is what keeps him going. This is easily used against him, though.

End: His perfect ending would be to defeat the ARGO company, settle down, and find family. He is aro/ace, so he isn't interested in marriage or children, but he still loves the idea of spending time with his friend's children.

If you've gotten this far, thanks for reading! It means a lot

d&d player asks

FOR THE PLAYER

Race: What's your favorite race to play? Is there a race you default to or play more often?

Class: What's your favorite class to play?

Playtest: What class (or subclass) do you want to try out?

Party Comp: Do you think about party composition while building a character? What role do you usually fill in your party, if any?

Level One: What was your first experience with D&D? How did you hear about it? What was your first game like?

Skill: Do you prefer RP, combat, or something else? Is there a part of the game you consider yourself best at?

Scheduling: Do you prefer to play in long campaigns, oneshots, or something in between?

Feat: What's one habit, trick, tip, etc. you picked up from another player?

Nat 20: What's the most memorable RP scene you've been a part of?

Initiative: What's an RP scene you're looking forward to playing?

Crit Fail: Have you ever had a character death? What happened?

Diamond: Have you ever participated in a character resurrection (for your own character or someone at the table)? What happened?

Backup: Do you design backup characters? What's your process? Have you ever had to use one?

Dungeon Court: What's the worst D&D experience you've ever had?

Dice: Do you have any dice rituals? Preferences? Collections? Does such thing as dice luck really exist?

FOR THE DM

Leveling: What's your ideal starting party level? What leveling system do you use? What level are your currently (or did you most recently) DMing for?

Prep: How much prep work do you do? How far out do you prep?

Screen: What do you usually keep behind your DM screen?

TPK: Have you ever had a game go completely off the rails? TPK? How did you adjust?

Session Zero: Is there anything specific you ask your players to have before you start playing (e.g. a secret about their character, a backstory event, etc.)?

Homebrew: Do you have any table rules or homebrews you use? What are they?

FOR THE CHARACTER (A/N: You may want to specify a character for these!)

Background: Does your PC get up to anything that you don't narrate often? Any background habits, activities, plots? Do you share these through other avenues (e.g. a group chat, table cross-talk, posting online)?

Vibe: How does your character get along with the party? Does your group talk about party dynamics outside the game?

Downtime: What does your character do in their downtime? How do you bring this up during gameplay?

Secret: Is there anything that you know about your character but your character doesn't know? What is it? How did you come up with this secret?

Heart: What drives your character? Do they have a theme, question, mission, etc. that they're holding onto? How did you pick it for them?

End: What's the ideal ending for your character's story and the game? Are these the same, or different?

[athenamikaelson]

I'm wildin with this one rn. It's okay if you don't want to write it! Klaus Mikaelson x reader who can't get hurt (if that makes sense??) The Mikaelsons get kidnapped, reader comes for them and gets stabbed pretty badly but they just go "I mean that's fair." and keep going and later at night they're all just trying to process and Klaus spends the night with them asking a million questions?

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Request- I'm wildin with this one rn. It's okay if you don't want to write it! Klaus Mikaelson x reader who can't get hurt (if that makes sense??) The Mikaelsons get kidnapped, reader comes for them and gets stabbed pretty badly but they just go "I mean that's fair." and keep going and later at night they're all just trying to process and Klaus spends the night with them asking a million questions?

 Warnings- Kol being a dumbass, swearing, blood.

Word Count- 1,342

Walking into the witch’s quarter I’m surrounded by tombstones and mausoleums. Looking at my phone again to see if Nik had responded to any of my texts or call. Nothing. Great.

Not that Nik, or any of the other Mikaleon’s would answer giving the fact that the witches had something to do with their disappearance. 

When I had first realized they were all missing I had tried calling all of them, even Kol who doesn’t even know how to use his phone. That’s how desperate I was. When I couldn’t find where they went I did a location spell that led me here. As Nik says, “Dead or alive witches are a pain in my ass.” He would always look at me after he said it though and tell me I was an exception. Not that I always believed him though. I know I’m a pain in his ass. But for some reason he still loves me. That really doesn’t help my god complex.

Walking through the rows of graves I try to close in my hearing to notice anything out of the ordinary. I am in a graveyard so that doesn’t really help. I continue walking for what feels like hours, when in reality it’s probably been like 5 minutes. Goddamn I hate exercise, Nik is lucky I like him. 

“To our ancestors we pray, please take this sacrifice and give us the strength to defeat our enemies!” I hear coming around the corner of an old grave which must’ve been over 100 years old. I peak around the grave, which just touching it gives me the creeps. Not to my surprise I see a group of maybe 7 witches surrounding an altar. Fucking extremists. Why can’t they find a different hobby other than sacrificial murders? What did catch me by surprise though was the whole of the Mikaelson gang chained up against the walls. Jesus Christ that’s impressive. I mean chaining up ALL of the Mikealson clan. That takes some balls. 

“You know darling, if you’d just unchain me now I’ll consider not ripping your spine out and strangling you.” Kol’s voice broke the silence. I visually roll my eyes. Classic Kol.

The witch who seems to be around mid 50’s, the eldest of the group I presume, walks up to Kol and puts what appears to be a necklace with a ruby like gem on the end, in Kol’s face. 

“As long as I have this gem darling, you and your bastard family aren’t going anywhere.” The witch mockingly says. Which earns a growl and pulling his chains from Kol. 

“This is ridiculous, you psychotic witches. Unchain us now or I swear to-” Nik yells at the witch. 

“You’ll what? What will you do Niklaus. You’ll yell? Pull on those chains? Tell me, what will the bastard child do?” That bitch snarckingly says. Oh I know that bitch didn’t just say what I thought she said. Ok I’m killing this bitch. I can’t take on 7 witches by myself though. I need my man. I just need to get that damn necklace from that old bag. Shouldn’t be hard enough. 

I walk behind the columns to the other side where Nik and his family are chained up. 

“Hey babe.” I whisper to Nik. Nik whips his head around and his eyes visibly widen when he notices me so I just send him a big smile. 

“Y/N? What the bloody hell-” Nik is about to question me before I press my finger to stop him from talking and press my other finger to my lips to signal to him to shut up. 

“I’m saving the day.” I smile as I walk out of the shadows to the old witch. Múltiple, “Y/N?”’s come from the Mikaelsons while just a laugh comes from Kol.

Oh shit I didn’t bring a weapon. I look around quickly before I see Bekah kick a large metal poker at me. Picking it up and sending her a smile I walk up behind the bitchy witch. 

“I know you didn’t call my boyfriend a bastard, you whore.” Before she can fully turn around I whip the poker at her and hit her in the face, knocking her down. Which unfortunately gets the attention of the other witches. I quickly rip the necklace of her neck and freeze. 

“Fuck. What do I do with this?” 

“Break it love. Bloody hell do I have to do everything?” 

“Shut it Kol, also.. thanks.” I throw the necklace on the ground and stomp my foot on it, breaking it into pieces. 

In a second all the Mikaelsons rip off their chains. The younger witches all freeze, scared expressions on their faces. Ha. I’m about to turn and hug Nik who starts to walk my way before I feel something hit my stomach. I feel a sudden pain and my shirt starts to dampen. I reach my hand down and pull it back to see it covered in blood. I look up to see Nik looking at my stomach before he looks at me, frozen. 

“Well I guess that’s fair.” Everything goes black.

I woke up surrounded by darkness. I try to get my eyes to relax to my surroundings but nothing happens. My mind is foggy until I remember the blood. I reach down to see that I’m in one of Nik’s shirts. I pull it up to look at my stomach, which is covered in dried blood. But no wounds. I throw my legs over the bed and walk towards the door. Light bombards my eyes as I peer down the hallway. I can hear voices coming from the dining hall as I make my way down there.

Nik and his family are all sitting in different areas drinking red liquids. Which doesn’t take a genius to figure out what that was.

“Hello Mikaelsons, I LIVED!” I make myself present to the vamps. Elijah and Nik both stand up and look at me worriedly, while Rebekah sat there with a questionable look and Kol was sitting smirking in the corner. 

“Y/n, you must still be tired and sore. I believe it would be best if you went back to sleep.” Elijah tried to reason with me as he started to walk towards me. I quickly stopped him with a raise of my hand. 

“Eli I’m fine. I am doing good. Walking and shit, you know. I’m feeling fire.” I walk past Eli and sit down next to Bekah which gets me a smile thrown at me and a disapproving look from Elijah as he comes to sit down back in his seat. Nik just stands in the same spot looking me over. His eyes held longer on my stomach where my wound was. 

“Y/n, come with me please.” Nik starts to walk upstairs before I can object.

When I make it up to our shared bedroom I barely have a second before Nik’s arms wrap around me surrounding me in a hug. 

“You scared me.” His eyes come to meet mine, I nearly break down when I see tears breaching the edges of his eyes.

“Hey, I’m fine now baby. I’m ok.” I reach up to brush away the tears threatening to fall onto his cheeks. 

“When I saw you fall to the floor I thought my world would end right there.” I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss his nose.

“You really think you can get rid of me that quickly?” A hurt look crosses NIk’s face after I say that. 

“How could you even joke like that? I mean you alway make these jokes after bad things happen? God you’re so much like Kol. And the thing you said when you got stabbed! Most people would scream or cry. You just made a sarcastic comment.”

“I don’t know man. I’m built differently I guess.” I quickly press a kiss to his lips which he quickly returns before I pull away. Confusion crosses his face. 

‘Don’t. Ever. Tell. Me. I’m like Kol.”

[gwoongi]

wordless pt.1

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: hitman (john wick?) au, sugar daddy au, fluff, pining, angst rating: mature words: 4.1k warnings: mentions of blood and violence, unconventional relationship, angsty themes, smoking mention a/n: this is jeongguk as john wick because i’m trash and i cant finish one story at a time. these prompts r from here btw :) im gonna do all 50 but im too lazy rn so here’s the first 10 :D

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Now, it definitely was not a stretch to assume that everything in Jeongguk’s life was indeed unconventional. People didn’t need to understand that what Jeongguk did for work was something that, by the law, was considered unprofessional and inhumane, and so when asked, Jeongguk sufficed for “boss of a company”, and questions weren’t asked. If they were, Jeongguk came up with a slightly more conventional lie, to make up for the reality that was Jeongguk working on the clock, killing nobodies for a bit of cash.

Taehyung, his right-hand man, had expressed how unconventional Jeongguk seemed to be over a dinner in Venice, a little restaurant tucked away unconventionally in a street that did not belong to America. Jeongguk spoke four languages comfortably, and had parents retiring in the Canary Islands. Jeongguk donated money to women’s charities and mental health services, and helped bribe his cousins into Ivy Leagues when racism prevented them from entry. Jeongguk was a Joe-Exotic in the making and owned a rescue black panther named Elio, and had houses across the globe for use when working. And, Jeongguk was dipping his toes into playing house with a sugar baby who was only five years younger than him, of whom he had met in a stakeout which involved the hit being on your brother’s head. Unconventionally, you led him to his target, and afterwards, dined with him in a Thai restaurant.

Things in Jeongguk’s life were far from ordinary, but perhaps it was the denial of mundane comforts that kept Jeongguk going. If he went back to normality, to working a shitty customer service job like when he was seventeen, dumping trash into overflowing piles behind the off-license he worked at, things wouldn’t be the same. Jeongguk would feel alien, like he didn’t belong. At least here, amongst the pain and the bullets and the years worth of trauma packed in his wrinkles (which, yes, if he looks hard enough, he can see some cursing his twenty five year old skin), Jeongguk felt like he sort of belonged. In an unconventional way.

Having met Jeongguk during his line of work, there were difficulties in being Jeongguk’s sugar baby. For one, he always felt guilty for having murdered your brother, even though you heavily supported the hit. Your brother was a jerk, a bully with money, someone who had wronged your entire family, turned off your younger sister’s life support when there was a chance of her survival. Asshole, he deserved it. Secondly, Jeongguk was impractical and irrational and often acted selfishly, meaning he was often out of the country on work, only available in whispers for a few hours and then he was gone, compensating with a few sums of cash.

He tried his best. Jeongguk, despite technicalities including his work and his past and his occasional mean streak, genuinely cared about other people. When he could, he made the effort, otherwise not attempting to make promises to you that he could not keep. Jeongguk knows that he got really lucky when he found you. You didn’t ask questions. Nobody was better for him.

However, Jeongguk was selfish, and broken, and in refusal of fixing what was wrong with him. When it was of convenience, Jeongguk drew comparisons to the last girlfriend he tried to entertain. One who wronged him, and died when he tried to repair everything she had destroyed. Jeongguk carries that with him like the tattoos on his skin, a permanent memory, and something that often disturbs what could be and should be between the both of you.

Jeongguk is worthy of love, and capable of loving. On days where Jeongguk is free to lounge without the guilt of not working, you find it is so easy to love him. But, it can’t be that way. You couldn’t just tell him that. Telling him that you loved him would be inappropriately unconventional. Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears it again.

(1) Holding their hands when they are shaking.

Jeongguk is in his living room, his right leg bouncing like a spring as he cradles an infant glass of whiskey. His eyes are glazed, yet wide, staring at the Seoul city draped in darkness and neon, and without even looking inside, you know that his brain is spinning, thoughts chaotic and loud.

“Hey,” you call out to him, and his eyes stutter to the left to catch you in the doorway, “I heard you get up. What’s wrong?”

Jeongguk shakes his head gently. “Nothing, baby, go back to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Jeongguk often makes comments without expectancies. You stand in the doorway that connects the living room to the long hall that stems into bedrooms and bathrooms, and watch him for a moment. His whole body vibrates like a speaker, his hands trembling as the glass drains and he reaches for a second, or a third, or maybe a tenth. You want to sigh, without being patronising, but you know that any sign of sympathy is mistaken for that whenever Jeongguk is around to make the judgement.

He looks back to the skyline and frowns, his attention panning from the window to his phone that buzzes blue, but he ignores. Stepping across the cool wooden floorboards, you approach him sleepily and take a seat next to him on the sofa. Neither of you move, but he recognises you’ve moved. He bristles slightly, like it was unexpected.

“You can take your time,” you suggest to him, and his hands ache in his lap as he sets the glass down on the coffee table with a careless thud. He scoffs, devoid of emotion, and dips his head so his chin is near his collarbones. In his lap, those hands shake. “Maybe don’t drink so much tonight.”

“I’m clearing my head,” he insists weakly. Those hands still shake.

Brows creased with a pinch, you swallow the unease and reach for his hands. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything as you do so, enveloping his hands in yours, and so suddenly the shaking ceases. Like trying to block the shakes from reaching his wrists, your hands keep his safe.

“I know,” you understand honestly, because you do know what he’s going through. “How about tea, or something? To calm down, calm down the mess that’s up in there.”

Your chin is on his shoulder, and he smiles softly. “Are you calling me messy?”

“Nah, I’m calling your brain messy,” you reply. “It’s a cruel fucking brain.”

“Hate my brain.”

“Today, we hate it.”

Jeongguk’s head turns slightly so that he can see you, and in his lap, his thumbs brush across your skin.

“Thank you,” Jeongguk says quietly, attempting a smile that doesn’t quite convince. It doesn’t necessarily have to, not tonight anyway. His phone continues to flash like a light show, Taehyung’s name in bold. “Fuck. I’ll take the call, and then I’ll come back to bed, okay?”

You nod, “Mm, okay. Want me to make a drink?”

“I don’t need it,” Jeongguk concludes. “Not today.”

(2) Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

Sometimes Jeongguk wakes up in the night due to nightmares, but tonight, it’s different.

Beside him, you stir uncomfortably and kick his leg for the fourth time. He huffs and looks over, trying to figure out if you’re awake and indignant, or lost in the dream. He settles on the latter when you strain out the name of your brother and his heart swoops with a dull ache.

“You’re just dreaming, baby, come on,” Jeongguk mutters quietly into your ear, holding you in place to calm the thrashing. “He’s not here anymore, I’m here. Y/N.”

It subsides after a few minutes, making it the longest you’ve gone on record. He looks into your sleepy, upset eyes as you break awake and brushes the hair out of your face. He tries to smile for you, and maybe you can’t see in the dark.

“I’ll get you some water,” Jeongguk suggests gently. “Hm? Sweet thing. It’s just a dream.” He says this into your hair in a hug, leaving a kiss on your temple as he breaks. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine,” you breathe uneasily, and he separates to get a glass of water and returns to find you sleeping again. What relief Jeongguk might have is exhaled as he sets the glass on the bedside table, stroking your hair until he moves away with the sudden realisation that this is not a normal exchange.

Before Jeongguk decides to leave again, he makes sure the bed is made and that you are safe; he tucks the duvet in tightly and presses a kiss to your forehead before grabbing his coat by the front door and leaving your apartment, one tucked in the city so far that Jeongguk finds it a hassle to visit.

(3) Travelling long distances just to see them.

For three days now, you have been in Colmar, and Jeongguk is beginning to feel lonely. It had been his idea to send you away, when the heat on his long, long fued with a rival colleague threatened your safety. In return, you got a new apartment that Taehyung had found closer to Jeongguk’s own when your address got leaked, and Colmar could be considered a vacation if you pretended for long enough.

With tensions cool and the coast somewhat clear, Jeongguk picks the skin around his fingernails as a distraction before deciding that enough was enough. He missed you, and missed how you were always around for him when he needed you most. This is what drives him to jumping on a plane in his company’s name, and flying to France.

A small boat passes underneath the bridge you are standing on, and your hands dig into the barrier as you arch to smile at the tourists beneath. One catches a glimpse of your denim skirt and cherry print blouse in the sunshine and extends his hat with a wave, and you wave back. France is nothing like Seoul, and is indeed warm and fruitful and unique. The sun is hot, the sky is clear, and the streets are filled with an atmospheric buzz of friendliness, the smell of coffee and some food you don’t know yet entrapping your senses.

“Madame, je peux vous prendre en photo?”

Hearing the voice, you turn your body left and prepare to face the tourist, but instead you are welcomed with the sight of Jeongguk dressed in black, sunglasses sliding down his nose with a smile. He does hold a camera in his hands, although teasingly.

“Oui,” you quip, posing cutely and Jeongguk takes a photograph anyway, to humour the moment, to print when he gets back to Seoul. You join his laughter as he peers at the photograph and he walks without looking up towards you.

“When did you get here?” you ask him, a round of laughter from the little boat making you turn to stare at them with a giggle.

“Bout an hour ago,” Jeongguk replies, and he shuts off the camera and puts it in his coat pocket. It’s only a small camera, probably cost him a crumb to buy from a vintage store. He meets your eyes with a comfortable smile and rounds in, pressing your lower back against the bridge barrier and circling your arms around you. Carefully, then, he kisses you, tasting the suncream on your skin as his lips wander from yours to the skin around your face.

“Miss me?”

“Terribly,” Jeongguk responds. “I am so bored when you’re not around. You always have something to do, always have something to say.”

You hum in response. “I’m glad I’m of some entertainment for you.”

“Oh, for sure,” agrees Jeongguk. “I don’t think I’ve used my brain so often when I’m away from work as much as I do when I’m with you. Did you know that you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met?”

“Wow,” you exclaim with a smile. “Hire me.”

“Ha!” he remarks, kissing you again and taking your hand in his. He moves, back in the way you came. “Over my dead body.”

(4) Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

“You.”

“Not now, Y/N, I’m working,” Jeongguk replies non committedly. He fists his hair.

“Not up for discussion right now,” you huff, and he has the nerve to glare at you which only makes you uncomfortably angry. “You haven’t eaten in fourty eight hours, and I’m not about to be held responsible for your death when you die of hunger, so get your ass in the kitchen before I dump this food over your stupid head.”

He challenges you. “You’re brave talking to somebody who could destroy your life like that.”

“Do it, I literally have nothing to lose,” you answer. “Please eat something. I made it with love and care.”

Jeongguk relents, sighing at his paperwork but nonetheless moving away from his home office and following you like a child towards the direction of the kitchen. He feels bad, you know he feels bad, and he circles his arms around your body as you walk, stumbling into the space of the kitchen and smelling the familiar aroma of pork rice stew. Alas, he sees the bowl steaming in his spot at the table and his eyes follow you as you hum and set start to washing the dishes.

“Y/N-”

“No words, just eating,” you instruct. “Bone apple tit.”

He grins, then, and takes a seat. “You know that’s not the phrase, right?”

“Tell that to Twitter,” you sigh.

(5) Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

Jeongguk prefers to see you when he doesn’t have work the next day, because leaving when you’re asleep is an asshole move in any dictionary. So, when one of his men phones him at four in the morning and relays the horror that someone’s died on his property, Jeongguk has to fight the demons that almost convince him to hand the job over to somebody who gives a fuck about the intruder stuck on his barbed fence.

He gets up, anyway.

Next to him, in the bed that belongs to you because this is your new apartment, Jeongguk stares down at you and feels a tug in his stomach. Guilt, it follows him everywhere like a ghost.

Before he leaves, he likes to give you a little kiss for the morning, so the tingling sensation reminds you that despite being an asshole and leaving without properly saying goodbye, he still gives several shits about you, and will be back when he can be.

(6) Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

Jeongguk wants to hang Taehyung for making him remember the reasons why you had to move across the city to a new apartment.

It had, of course, been Jeongguk’s fault, and when the notification came from an exhausted worker in his line of work that the alarm system in your apartment had been triggered for an intruder, Jeongguk remembers all he saw was red.

The front door was forced open, a body indent in the wood and the front porch ransacked and littered with shards of glass and bullets. Inside was no prettier, with mess scattered everywhere and photos smashed on the floors. The carpets were stained with red that Jeongguk prayed was just wine, the glass coffee table in two pieces and a knife covered in red on the floor. Jeongguk and his men, along with the few police officers Jeongguk could actually trust in this god-forsaken hellhole, noticed that the blood belonged to one of the intruders who lay dead on the stairs.

Nobody knows how Jeongguk got through the apartment so fast, and why, without any hesitation, he murdered the remaining intruders without suggesting questioning and torture. That was his go-to when it rarely concerned you. He wanted those stupid enough to even try and go after you to really fucking regret it as he picked off fingernails and made them suffer for hours or days. This time he just killed, and moved onwards, calling your name like a mantra.

Jeongguk could have cried when you emerged, petrified, from inside one of the closets. Upon seeing you, Jeongguk collapsed his gun on the floor and stepped towards you protectively, pulling you in tightly for a hug. Sobbing into his neck, you hugged him tighter, feeling finally safe when his hand held the back of your head, like you were a precious thing that was of value.

You were of the highest value to Jeongguk.

“Fuck you,” Jeongguk barks suddenly, and Taehyung shrugs and exits the office. All he had asked was if he loved you.

(7) Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

There might be the assumption that Jeongguk comes home with more bruises than you do. Which is true, technically, and there’s no hesitation from your end in nursing them to a comfortable recovery.

On rare occasion, Jeongguk comes home and finds you exhibiting a new purple blob on your skin. Like today. 

Jeongguk hasn’t seen you in two days, and when he lets himself into your apartment with the key he has glued to him at all times, he follows the silence and light to the bathroom. You sit on the edge of your bathtub, gently rubbing cream on your knee in little circles.

“What happened here?” he asks quickly, and you continue rubbing with your tongue poking out between your lips.

“You’ll laugh, don’t ask,” you mutter.

“Hey, I won’t laugh,” Jeongguk says. He rests his weight against the doorframe, “You open the front door the wrong way again?”

Ha! You laugh humourlessly. “Worse!” You look up at him sadly, “I tripped in the parking lot carrying my groceries. It’s on camera and everything, I want to die.”

Jeongguk pokes the inside of his mouth to resist laughing. “Well, fuck. That’s your leg ruined.”

“I know,” you pout. “Good thing you’re my sugar daddy- wanna pay for cosmetic leg surgery?”

“I like your bruised up legs,” says Jeongguk.

“Me too, but not these ones.”

“Bruh, that’s enough cream on your skin,” Jeongguk exclaims, moving forward to snatch the cream from your hands. “More is not better. Come on, you’re okay.”

“It hurts.”

“Boohoo,” he sighs. You don’t move. “Ugh, whatever. Come’re.”

Jeongguk drops the cream tube onto the sink but it clatters into the bowl. He’ll move it later if he remembers to, and he pretends it’s hard to pick you up off the bathtub and carries you swiftly out of the bathroom and into the living room. Things have barely moved since he last came to visit; the swarms of paper still invade your coffee table and your laptop is on sleep mode by a half-empty coffee cup filled with hot chocolate, because he knows your standing on coffee. Everything is a lot messier now that you’ve decided you want to go back to school, but at least Jeongguk knows it keeps you busy when he’s away.

“Oh,” he says suddenly, as you’re sat down with one leg up around him still. He pokes at a spot on your leg and you squirm, “there’s another one.”

You peer to look, “Oh, yeah, that one’s you.”

“Oh.” He pauses, “Pretty, though.”

You huff like a little baby and he dares you with raised eyebrows. That keeps you silent and Jeongguk moves his body at an angle to the right, sweeping to kiss the bruise better, the bruise that he made a few nights ago with tender love and care.

“All better,” he assures.

“It feels better already.”

“Mm. Magic.”

(8) Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

“So, I was at a school fayre today.”

“Really?” Jeongguk sits with his laptop on his legs, and your legs are tangled around his body like some sort of jungle maze. He rarely works on his bed, not unless the work is sudden and he can’t help it. You’ve just come in, dived on the bed and claimed his waist as something to squeeze your legs around.

“Yep. Like, one of those little craft things where students sell their shit and make money from it. You know, supporting local artists! It’s really cute, if I was good at something I’d have participated.”

Jeongguk thinks of things you’re good at, and there’s a lot. “Aw. There’s always next year.”

“Yeah,” you reason. “Anyway- point is, is that I got you something.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, glancing over his right shoulder to see you, “Me?”

“Yep. You.”

“What did you get?” he asks, and then he’s back to checking blueprints.

You untangle your legs and slide off the bed, retreating to your bag slung across the room by the bedroom door. From here, you take out a small little pin-badge and when you’re sat next to Jeongguk again, you fiddle with it until it catches his attention.

“What’s this?” asks Jeongguk.

“It’s a badge of honour,” you claim, and you slip it into his palms. He fingers the front when he examines it, reading the little words of “Number One Dad” and he stares up at you. “Like it?”

“It’s for me?” he asks again.

“Yeah. You can wear it and like, I don’t know, think of me,” you shrug.

Jeongguk thinks for a moment. Even though it’s stupid, and cliche and a little bit embarrassing, he still thinks it’s funny and thoughtful.

“Want me to wear it to work?” he asks you.

“Oh, absolutely,” you encourage. “I’ll get Taehyung an uncle badge if he gets pissy.”

“Hey, you’re mine and he’s not allowed a relationship to you, no matter what definition,” Jeongguk pouts. “He wants a sugar niece, well...he’ll have to look somewhere else.”

You gape. “Wow. Who thought you had it in you to be so possessive.”

“Please, with a pussy like that of course I’m possessive,” he teases. He’s joking.

“My power,” you sigh anyway, and jump off the bed claiming that you’re hungry. Jeongguk looks at the badge again and pops it in his breast pocket before he loses it and regrets it.

(9) Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.

Jeongguk’s bored out of his brain.

He has no idea how you can be so fascinated by this stupid game where you’re essentially in debt, but he still sits and watches you tour him around this weird island that is inhabited by ducks and an ugly gorilla villager dressed in pink. And to think that he had a part to play in all of this, because his bank account definitely helped pay for this Nintendo Switch and game.

“Do you like my beach?” you ask him. It’s literally just sand and one coconut tree, and a few shells by the water. Oh, there’s a beach chair on there too, but it makes little difference. “I’m poor, I can’t afford furniture yet.”

“Can’t you just make it?”

“I can, but I’m sick of making axes to collect wood,” you explain with a grudge against the fact that tools now break in this Animal Crossing game. Jeongguk hums like he’s invested, and he tries to be, because he cares about you too much to unintentionally hurt your feelings by displaying his crippling disinterest.

“Oh. Makes sense.”

“Can I show you my hybrid flower garden?”

He sighs. “Yeah, you wanted to show me all of your island, right?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Once you’ve had a tour, I can make you a profile and you can play too. You can live next door to me!”

“Why can’t we share a house?” Jeongguk presses.

“Because I don’t think it works like that, babe,” you confess. “Anyway. Here’s my garden.”

(10) Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.

He’s tired. You’re tired.

The radio plays quietly updating Seoul on the fires that spread across the city today, and Jeongguk smells like smoke and salt. He keeps his head down as he eats his meal, something he brought home with him to make up for the fact that he’s been absent for almost a week now. You have so many things to say and he has so many things he needs to say to make up for everything, but nothing is said tonight.

You know he’s having a hard time, because Jeongguk’s been smoking again. He smoked on the balcony earlier, and once again in the bedroom. There are now ashtrays around your own apartment, and you don’t even smoke. Jeongguk takes a drink of bourbon and swallows it dry.

You look up at him from across the table, not wanting to press the issue when you know it’ll end in an argument, and then sex to make up for it. You’re both too tired to fuck today, too tired to speak. Just being in each other's company is enough for tonight. The only words he says are goodnight and something you don’t catch as you’re drifting off to sleep. Jeongguk’s awake all night, the fires burn until early hours, and the smoke smell is still there in the morning even when he isn’t.

[allkinds-oftrash]

Ya girl is watching the latest HSM series ep and Imma live blog it hshshs and will add my reactions under the cut so it doesn't end up a long post. Anyways, let's goo:

AHHHH THE MORNING SHOW WITH GINA AND EJ WE LOVE TO SEE IT

They really said we're gonna let life imitate art with Nini and Olivia huh

Ricky was SUPPORTIVE??? Damnn I really thought we gonna get a classic Ricky tantrum....

But also wow sir that sounds salty and should definitely talk to someone abt how you're feeling...A therapist maybe 👀

I know we needed to contextualise how Ricky felt abt the song but I really wanted to see Nini's interview in full!!

Sebby you're so cute I do wanna see yall do DEH

Shjshshs not the rights not being available for another 5 years 😭😭

I dunno how they're in great shape and closer to the Menkies Gold after not having a single proper rehearsal, but go off Miss Jenn

Omg honestly Kourt's costumes are always amazing and on point Imma excited to see it

Kourt is such a simp we love to see it

Carlos is so pissy this episode we love to see it shshhs

Also love the way Seb calms him down and keeps him nice it's such a funny dynamic

"We had 20 people make our Belle dress over 50 hours" Okay North High shut the fuck up

I'm calling it now the reason North High knows so much is cos Howie is the leak and Kourt has been unwittingly telling him. The way her phone keeps going off as they discuss how North High knows everything is really good foreshadowing if my prediction is right

Also like her phone went off just as Carlos said "How did they know that?" THAT'S PEAK FORESHADOWING

If Howie ain't in North High, I dunno what Tim is doing

GSJAGSHAH KOURTNEY MAKING ABS FOR EJ I CANNOT

"I have abs" We know sweetie

"I PADDED THE THUSH FOR YOU" "AWW THANKS KOURT I NEEDED THAT" THIS INTERACTION IS EVERYTHING THAT WAS SO FUNNY!! I love that it is now canon that EJ has abs but no butt love that for him

Okay but like damn these costumes are great!! North High can fuck right off with its high end ones I just wanna see lowkey homemade costumes by students; I'd watch a Broadway show if I wanted to see professional costumes okay

Damn Carlos has killer eyesight clocking in that mask in the trunk

GINA BBY DON'T SAY THAT AND HAHSGSH NINI NUDGING HER WAS SO FUNNY

Nini's little look over at Gina was like "Omg you guys my girlfriend is so cute and dumb" GINI STANS HOW WE FEELING?

Miss Jenn don't be that naive, your boyfriend probably put them up to it

That Insta page is prophetic with their timing tbh; all the info is a leak obviously looking at your Howie but like the timing of it all. Those kiddos don't know that they are discussing the stolen mask at this exact moment (Kourt has put down her phone after Carlos snapped at her so Howie doesn't know they are talking abt it rn)

"We don't dance with the enemy" *cuts to her dancing with Zackey later*

SEBBY WEARING THE TEACUP COSTUME OMG HE'S GOING MAKE SUCH A CUTE CHIP (yes I am still mad Seb/Joe was robbed but Imma fangirl over the costume anyway)

Wtf why does North High look so expensive - they are literally in the same district as East High right??? How did they get this much funding

North High is a very artsy and rich for a public school; they should have had Nini go here instead of YAC tbh (like this campus feels like what YAC should have been) NOW THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN AN INTERESTING STORYLINE

Seblos' dynamic IS ON POINT THIS EP I really love my bois so much and their back and forth is hilarious

Shhshs DIANE who loves volleyball and North High okay I totally believe it

WHY ARE RED AND ASHLYN SO KINKY EVERY DAMN EPISODE TIM THESE ARE UNDERAGED CHARACTERS STOP IT

Shshsh we love Gina knowing herself and practicing self control by volunteering to be the lookout

Omg yall listen to Carlos and stfu they are so lucky no one saw or heard them yelling Wildcats

Oh no no no no no Miss Jenn you gonna get sucked in; this is gonna be so messy

Omg I saw someone post about this scene before I watched the ep YALL ARE RIGHT THAT BOI HITTING ON GINA IS SO FINE Babes go for that one, not EJ

NOT THEM FAKE DATING UGH E W TIM STOP MAKING ROMANTIC PORTWELL A T H I N G I honestly do not understand how some of yall can ship it romantically knowing Sofia is a whole underaged babey and Matty is a whole ass grown man - like I get the appeal of the Wonderstudies getting together and they do have chemistry but the irl age gap is creepy and outweighs the appeal of shipping them romantically

As I always say; Portwell/Wonderstudies should be a BROTP not an OTP

Ugh Brotp Portwell would have clocked Lily right away; romantic Portwell making googly eyes at each other isn't helping anyone

Living for Nini getting the recognition she deserves - I really like her solo arc this season she's so much more interesting without Ricky tbh

Aww Kourt you simp I love her and I'm so happy she's happy I wanna be wrong about Howie being a North High kid

Where is the mask??

OHMYGOD THESE KIDS COMING IN LIKE A HORROR MOVIE

Lily really wishes she was Jesse St. James huh; you could never Lily so stop

Andrew Barth Feldman and his cute little French accent I love him so much

Hnng Miss Jenn gonna get manipulated by this hoe. Omg wowow Zackey really is a hoe, making out with another girl before the show THE AUDACITY OF HIM SAYING MISS JENN WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH I WILL THROW HANDS WITH THIS MOFO

Wait the kids didn't steal it BUT WHAT IF ZACKEY DID

Ssjsgfajhdfg I CANNOT WITH ANDREW'S ACCENT but I can't tell if its really bad or really good but I'm also confused why didn't they just cast a French person as Antonie shshhs Antoine is adorableee and a little shit the best type of character

Lily is so annoying b y e sis bye and Olivia Keegan is talented I just wish they didn't make her character such a cartoony villain type

"How about if we bop to the top" SEBBY I LOVE YOU AND NEVER STOP BEING SO CUTE I SWEAR and Awww Carlos called him Honey I am s o f t

Hnng why do these fools are really gonna give into North High calling them chickens

OHHH NO SHE DIDN'T JUST SAY THAT ABOUT ASHLYN FUCK A DANCE OFF I AM ABOUT TO THROW HANDS WITH A 16 YEAR OLD

"She told us not to dance with the enemy. She's better than this" No Sebby, she's not *cuts to her dancing with Zackey* AND OMG THE WAY I SAW THIS EDIT COMING BEFORE IT CAME

Ooooh I like this song wayyy more whatever the mess The Mob Song became (when I first heard it drop on Spotify yesterday) Around You is such a great song musically and lyrically very relevant to these two and gosh I love their voices together

They have so much chemistry damn, go home Mike (well he technically has oop) and Mr. Mazzara

YES YOU DO MISS JENN YOU ALWAYS HAD IT

Oh god this is the scene from the trailer; she's gonna make a move on Ricky isn't she?? Leave him alone Lily he doesn't need a 3rd girl to be confused about he needs a therapist

Lily shut the fuck up with quasi; STOP TRYING TO MAKE QUASI HAPPEN

"I love Nini's song" Sure, Jan.

...Okay yes you should have called him out but don't bait him LIKE THAT oop there's the scene from the trailer

Ohmygod is Andrew Barth Feldman gonna hit on Ashlyn

Okay this is so cute but also I am VERY annoyed with the way this show handles its characters like they aren't relevant or important unless they get into a relationship or a love triangle?? That's such a shitty way to give out screentime and arcs to characters. Is it not enough to develop the characters on their own and strengthen their friendship???

HUH TIM why you so obsessed with compulsory heterosexuality??(well also homosexuality for Seblos but they are the only ones I'm not annoyed with their relationship cos its a hella big step for Disney to have a gay couple and their relationship isn't in our faces or overshadows the plot and its just spinkles of cuteness every time they interact - they are honestly who Rini wishes they were; besties in love. They are a couple that Tim should be taking notes from; leave the relationship drama in the background, focus on the theatre and friendship aspect of everything)

My mini rant aside; this is a very adorable interaction between Ashlyn and Antoine.

"TOM HOLLAND ON STILTS" GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE WITH THAT COMPARISON I AM SCREAMING ANTOINE THAT'S SO FUNNY

This is so funny he keeps picking out the hottest guys of the group; as if he himself isn't the French version of Big Red they look super alike ngl shshsh

WHY YOU RUIN IT WITH THAT ANTOINE I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU

Drama between Antoine and Red is already spicing up shshsh I cannot

Why are you so dramatic with the shuffle Lily gtfo of here...also this doesn't make sense?? She wasn't even on a BATB playlist; what if a non BATB song came on ahahah

Good to know they aren't big fans of The Mob Song like I am Awww EJ you cutie, okay I will appreciate the OG Mob Song just for you

OH WAIT HE PROLLY LIKES IT COS ITS A GASTON LED SONG TIM GIMME THE EJ SOLO I DESERVE IN THIS NUMBER

I'm being robbed of Gaston for the last 7 eps I at least deserve an EJ solo for compensation

The way the set looks straight out of Broadway but also like omg the blue lighting and fancy stage gave me intense flashbacks to that Glee episode where Vocal Adrenaline sang Bohemian Rhapsody

RICKY STOP BEING SALTY AND ACTUALLY COMMUNICATE WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND LIKE A NORMAL PERSON

OMG THE SUBTITLES SAID ITS HOWIE SINGING AS THE BEAST I FUCKING CALLED IT

Howie you hoe you gonna break my girl Kourtney's heart

Yeah...still not a fan of Antoine's Dance Remix

Yall know Gina would kill the dance number if she wasn't wearing that fit

Okay but it's Gaston led song WHY DOES EVERYONE BUT EJ HAVE A SOLO IN THIS SONG??

First the Beasts led it (Howie sounded better than Ricky ngl), then the Lumieres (their voices worked hella well together; I always forget what a talented singer Frankie is THEY NEED TO GIVE HIM A SOLO SONG) and now the Belles are going at it (Ashlyn's voice is superior)

BIG RED BEING JEALOUS AND SALTY IS SO FUNNY ITS LIKE A PUPPY BEING ANGRY I CRI

...Did anyone really win, Lily??? STFU

CARLOS IS RIGHT AND HE SHOULD SAY IT

Oooh I did see someone talk about this when the Rose Song dropped last week, apparently its illegal to add songs to a musical you're doing for a school play; I really thought the show would brush past that irl rule but I guess they are playing into it

THE WAY EVERYONE TURNED TO EJ FOR THE SPORTS METAPHOR I AM D Y I N G AND HIS FACE WAS GOLDEN! ITS LIKE THAT LISA SIMPSON MEME SHHSHSH

Okay Nini is being a little pissy about leaving her song out of the show and its a little selfish to wanna keep it at the risk of being disqualified but I also understand why she's hurt

Everyone is dog piling on her right now being against her idea and it feels like they are being against her song and her herself instead of them not wanting to be disqualified. Also like she poured her heart and soul into the song after Miss Jenn lowkey rushed her to write it. So I can see why this feels like a rejection of her and her song and why she's so hurt rather than her seeing the big picture right now

It doesn't help that Ricky said the final blow causing her to walk off

Okay maybe Zackey gets some rights for being chill and wanting the kids to be peers

THIS MOTHERFUCKER I KNEW HE WAS SHADY Also the way I gasped even though I predicted he stole the mask halfway through this ep shshsh

Stab him Miss Jenn STAB HIM

Bitch why you so threatened by East High if yall have such a Broadway-esque show planned??? They honestly should have stuck to the Little Mermaid; I really wanted to see the aquarium

"It's just a song Ricky" "A song can mean everything" Do you get deja vu? Anyone else getting intense flashbacks to Jan when DL first dropped and all the drama happened 👀

YES PLEASE STAY CO ANCHORS Gosh I love them so much esp once you take the romantic connotations out of their interactions

ROUGE GRAND I'M SCREAMING

I love this long take of checking in with everyone's relationship status (still hate how romantically focused this show has become but still a cool shot)

I K N E W IT I WAS RIGHT

Okay but like looking at Kourtney's face I have never wanted to be wrong so bad GOD I HATE IT HERE I really think he likes her and I hope they work it out

Nini setting up her own music acc feels like when Olivia rebranded her whole IG to be just for her music stuff - love this for both of them

AHHHHH SHE'S NINA NOW YALL

I know everyone loves her as Nini but like I have always loved the name Nina and it really suits her to be honest also shows how she's growing up now and kind of leans into the lyric "I won't be confined to your point of view" from The Rose Song because Nini is the nickname Ricky gave her so it shows that she's outgrowing him too and I love that for her!

Overall thoughts; they really crammed all the North High drama into one ep huh. Personally would have liked it if all of this was spread out throughout the last few episodes; like different hijinks for every episode. I'm just a big fan of properly setting up the overall arc over the season instead of patching it together closer to the climax/end of the show. Cos now it lowkey feels like two different seasons - 2A felt like The Rini/Rina Show esp with YAC storyline and whatever was going on with Rina and now 2B is finally feeling like what this season should have been all this time

[mainalias]

lol I was both right about the joker not appearing and him killing these guys because he doesn’t show up but a figure in a purple trench coat whose face we don’t see brushes past the most dickish of the news crew and then seconds later he’s dying of joker venom

idfk man but i think you had this coming. if batman was nice enough to break into MY hotel room and warn me that i was gonna die like some bat-themed ghost of christmas future I would probably just listen. truly the basis of this story is non-gothamites come to gotham and just fundamentally do not understand the stakes of being in the city. why do you think none of the local news casters want to interview the joker? because they’re stupid chumps who don’t know how to make tv nvm you’re right good luck with that emmy

oh and nigma does manage to talk them into interviewing him and he’s currently out of jail and semi-retired working in a junkyard full of giant props because ofc he is and then he has this page

love all the references and nods to comic book history and the changing landscape of the medium. and this was 1989 so no internet, the writers just knew this shit. genuinely feeling bad for the riddler rn. he’s just camp! he doesn’t wanna hurt anyone! oh and throughout the interview it has him changing outfits into various eras of his costume. it’s fun.

and then they ask what he thinks of batman and we get

”when is a man a city?” is gonna be one of those lines that haunts me i think. outsiders describing batman is a thing I really like and collect screenshots of. adding that to the list of things I may make a post of someday

I do think my fav part is when they’re finishing their filming and do an on the street section and are interviewing random gotham citizens and it’s so fucking funny. to be an extra in a comic book world, unreal:

shout out to the old man who ranks them as equivalent annoyances as NYC cabbies, the guy who likes penguin cause he tipped well, and the fucking john constantine cameo. i’m pretty sure at this point in comic book history you were banned from appearing outside of your non-DCU mainline comic by the editors but i’m sure you’re not john constantine youre just some other blond smoking guy with an accent and a trench coat

this comic was a lot of fun and it was very meta and really hammered home for me that even though it’s 35 years old batman had still been around for 50 yrs at that point and already had a ton of history that these writers clearly enjoyed playing around in. truly “lmao wouldn’t it be wild to be a gotham citizen” is a fandom joke question that is at least as old as this one-shot. i hope anyone new to the fandom is less hesitant to just start reading comics and also doesn’t just stick to the hits and let’s themself get lost in the weeds. imo the appeal of DCU is the weeds, it’s been going on forever and a ton of people have been building on what’s come before and that’s what makes it interesting

taking a break from batman comics to read OTHER, DIFFERENT batman comics

anyfuckingway reading secret origins special #1 and its about a news team in gotham trying to interview batman rogues to show THEIR side of the story and show that batman is the real villain or whatever. batman breaks into their hotel room at night to warn them off because of course he does. and of course they don’t listen because literally they are horror movie tropes and want an emmy

look at these idiots

I want the joker to kill you all in a comically psychotic way but he’s not on the cover of this issue so he’s probably not even gonna show up :(((((

meanwhile the riddler:

AND THEN THEY SAY NO

[liquidlikecats]

SIKE not really time to talk to the 3 bitches here who also play 3h. And by talk I mean that I'll put my thoughts on my current run out here and yall do whatever

So rn im doing AM lunatic classic and uh.... It's been an Experience TM. Battle prep is more important than ever. It's like 50% of the battle imo. You'll NEVER catch me going out into the field without checking everyone's battalions, weapons, combat arts and abilities.

It'ssss been fucking tricky. A big part of the last two battles I've done (Gronder and Anettes Paralogue) has been timing the enemy reinforcements. Learning that I can't do a certain thing like putting a unit someplace or killing a specific enemy until I've cleared a region out lest I'm overwhelmed by a new wave of enemies. Been a key factor with those two.

Oh and the first battle post ts? When you get to mop those damn thieves up? Took me several tries. P much every battle does actually. It was reaaaally fucking difficult to keep Dimitri and Byleth alive in that terrain and with the God damn boat load of enemies. Also had to play around a bit and see since I was missing four crucial units (Dedue, Petra, Hapi, Yuri). It was... An experience. That aged me by like 10 years.

Battles usually take me over an hour and they can get really fucking intense. Beat Gronder earlier but the fucking alliance reinforcements were tricky so it took me several attempts til I caved and reclassed Mercie, Anette and Ashe. Dedue was my fucking mvp tho, he was insane.

Made him a wyvern lord since I'm not a fan of armored units and he's doing amazing actually! He's got two big bad axes, the aegis shield and a lance and ever since I've slapped quick riposte on him he's been tearing thru his enemies like nobody's business. Well, also thanks to the +20 hit which I have for every single lion, courtesy of the snipers only run I did.

Felix is a wyvern lord as well! Wanted a change of pace. I was considering making him a war master, but I'll save that for my next run. He's fucking nuts, got 100+ avoid when waiting. I also gave him the chalice cuz he's my special little boy and making me very proud.

Yuri's a sniper this time! It's been a change of pace alright. Lowers his spd but his dex is p good. He's got way less avoid but he does have deadeye and canto so it's not actually a problem. Well, once I'd fixed his strength. He does have 88 crit which is really nice.

Something I haven't really had to rely on in previous runs (hard/normal) is having a secondary class ready. Byleth's got trickster, Anette and Mercie are maining gremory atm but also make damn fine valkyres, Ashe's got swordsmaster/assassin while Yuri has sniper/assassin.

This run is teaching me a Lot about flexibility. Changing up entire setups for big battles to make em work smh. And the timing of divine pulses. In previous runs I'd pulse it immediately when something didn't quite work out (like failing to kill an important enemy) but now I just wait and see. I don't have enough pulses to waste em on anything but preventing death and shit like that can be made work.

I think that's most of my thoughts for now? I currently play in one battle sessions since they're so intense. Now gonna go do cleanup after the Gronder battle (new month and all, gotta prep for the next one). I always take screenshots of how they're all doing at the very end of my run, maybe I'll post some of those once I finally get there.

[carbootsoul]

i was tagged by @katarahairloopies!!! thank u :mwah:

name: leo! @/zeitgeistofnow on ao3, @lazypigeon & @timetohope on here, altho i’m considering uh switching back to not having an art blog :/ i have to think abt it.

fandom(s): ace attorney is my main one rn bc i’m replaying the games with a friend of mine and it’s reminding me how invested i am in the characters!! a lot of my recent fic is atla stuff, altho i’ve been distancing myself from the fandom bc i’ve kinda exhausted my interest in it. finally i’ve been reading a lot of mp100 fic but i don’t think i’ll ever write for it. i just love how dumb all the characters r (with the dubious exception of ritsu)

where you post: ao3!! tbh i always get suprised when people say they write/read fic on any other platform like i haven’t messed around w wattpad or ff.net since middle school... catch up........

most popular oneshot: going just by “one chapter” as the definition of a oneshot, the firestarters, bc it’s fluffy and modern au :) i wouldn’t necessarily call it a oneshot tho bc to me a oneshot shows like, one scene? so like by my definition and your sweet sweet sun makes me crazy (i wanna lay you down and see how you amaze me is my most popular!! (also @ kit u thought UR fic titles were unnecessarily long??? i’ve hit the ao3 LIMIT for characters in titles. it’s about the aesthetic

most popular multichapter fic: sdkjflakjlkj it’s two crowned kings; and one that stood alone, which is a w359 fic i wrote back in late 2017. it’s literally the last fic i haven’t orphaned from when i actually wrote podcast fic (i have 4 other podcast fics but they were all borne out of nostalgia and written after i stopped participating in the fandom). i rewrote all but the last chapter? the last two? about a year ago and i fucked up halfway through so like chapter 6 and 7 are repeated and there’s something missing but i’m too lazy to fix it. no one’s going to read it now anyway :) it WAS the top minlace fic for a little while tho which i take great pride in.

favorite story you’ve written so far: oh that’s a hard question akfsldkfj i honestly like most of them!! and i write a LOT so there’s a lot to choose from. tonight, we are young is def one of my favorites- it was fun to write and i got to explore the ways zuko and yue r similar, which i LOVE to do outside of a zukka/yukka view. you can lean on my arm as you break my heart  is one that i’m really proud of? the whole “cooking as an expression of bato’s love” is definitely some of my favorites. a lot of my ace attorney fics would be categoried as my favorites if i hadn’t improved, too, if that makes sense. like they’re no long my favorites because i can see where my writing is shitty and it bothers me, but if i had written them a month ago they’d be my favorite.

fic you were nervous to post: figures 1-5: killing gods def!! it’s a lot more purple-prose-y than most of my fics and it was also written before i’d kinda like emersed myself in the atla fandom so i didn’t have as good a grasp on the general understanding of zuko’s character as i do now. tbh it’s one i’m rly happy w tho!! i have a few people leave really nice comments on it and rereading them makes me really happy. also it was the start of me hating the position of fire lord and being at least passively anti-it in my fics.

how you choose your titles: they’re almost all song lyrics!! only 14 of my 50 words AREN’T song lyrics and about half of those are from before i started writing ace attorney fic lol. sometimes i go into a fic with a song in mind for the vibes and then i usually go with lyrics from that (like in ‘cuz we’re the greatest /they’ll hang us in the louvre), but otherwise i usually pick an artist i’ve been listening to and go through their songs until i find a lyric that fits. sometimes the lyric doesn’t even really fit the fic and i just chose it at random or because i searching up the word “fly” in my spotify library or whatever. honestly i like coming up with titles? i know a lot of fic writers hate it but being able to just use song lyrics is v soothing for me and while i know that most people won’t search out a song just bc it’s a fic title like.. seeing that the title of a fic is a hozier lyric does affect how i read it and i kinda like that.

do you outline? i outline my long form/multichaptered fics with varying strictness. usually anything over ~8k will have some kind of outline. sometimes i go into it with every single scene planned out, sometimes it’s just notes on the side of the google doc that say “it's about MORE family. about how it's not betraying your existing family to find more” and “scenes i want to include: [...]” and “vampires... ngl kinda hot.” i’m trying to outline super strictly less bc i’ve found it’s less fun? but i do try to keep a plot arc in mind. since most of my fics are more character-driven than plot-driven, that usually just means keeping track of what character development i want to happen or what is motiviating the characters. 

complete: um everything posted on ao3 i guess. also the MULTITUDE of orphaned fics out there asksfjldkj i always click ‘leave my pseud on’ so if u look up my username you see all of my fics and then a. lot of other ones.

in progress: - a fic titled ‘dad phoenix’ that is actually just a no DL-6 au with defense attorney miles edgeworth and single dad bartender phoenix where neither of them want to date for A While but phoenix gets wrapped up in one of miles’s cases. it’s about family. it’s about writing teenagers. it’s about the background franmaya which is ALWAYS what i’m here for in wrightworth fics - a franmaya werewolf/vampire au because i’m ~gay~ and love rivals to lovers and also franziska and maya both being angry their older brothers r dating each other. - my secret santa fic!! which i can’t talk about much but it does feature toph and zuko and also piandao and jeong jeong???? idk where they came from but they are Part Of The Fic Now also i forgot iroh existed for half the fic and wrote piandao as zuko’s father figure and now i’m in too deep. - a 5+1 bakoda fic (maybe a bato/hakoda/kay fic??? i need to decide. that’s part of why this fic is still incomplete bc i can’t decide which relationship dynamic i prefer) that’s 5 times bato said he loves hakoda and one time hakoda said it back. possibly i have already written him saying i love u back and i need to change the title a little. - retail au klapollo where klavier works at an overpriced boutique and apollo comes in to buy earrings for nahyuta’s birthday. klavier gives him a punch card (one that the store doesn’t actually offer anymore as a bid to get apollo to come back) and all of apollo’s family come in to use the punch card and also give klavier variations on the shovel talk/find out if he’s actually into apollo. - a LOT of atla fics that i don’t think i’ll ever finish :(

coming soon/not yet started:  - i want to write some blackmadhi bc they’re.. cute..... and it’s a good excuse to also write athena and i love her - my stuff for yueki week!!! i have NOT prepped enough but hopefully i’ll remember in time! i wrote the prompts in a way that kinda set up stuff i’ve already wanted to write (don’t look at me lol) so hopefully i’ll get at least two or three fics finished in time. - i want to rewrite the wrightworth fic i have about them not getting married bc it was interesting and i like what i wrote about but i think i could have written it better and made it more interesting. rewriting fics is hard tho bc i’m never sure if it makes sense to just edit in the new work or to repost it? and then if u repost it do u delete the old one? conflicting so i might just not

do you accept prompts? totally!!! a disclaimer tho i’m not super into writing atla stuff anymore (most of the atla stuff i’m still writing is  something i made a commitment to finish) so if your prompt is an atla one i probably won’t do it :/ basically anything else is fair game tho!! podcasts/aa/sa/uh i don’t remember anything else but like if you search a fandom on my blog and come up with more than two posts about it chances r i’d be happy to write fic for it!

upcoming work that you’re most excited about: oh huh i mean probably the no dl-6 au!!! it’s the longest ace attorney fic i’ve written already and since it’s wrightworth it’ll get more attention than any franmaya fic i write. my standards r so high now tho after getting to much feedback from atla fans... love u all... obviously i have no choice but to pressure my atla mutuals into playing ace attorney. pls ask abt it bc i WIll Give You A Sales Pitch about why you’d like it in relation to atla

tagging: i’m not rly tagging anyone!!! @deadflora if you still consider urself a fic writer also consider urself tagged! also any of my other mutuals who write fic i just can’t think of anyone rn

[gmsguild]

multiples of 10 for the character asks!!

Thanks Hannah! Answers will refer to my main character, Sahar, my tiefling wizard in a home Tal’Dorei game, but she’s away from the party rn since I’m DMing (our group rotates DMs between arcs). Other folks, if you want to hear more about some of my other characters, let me know! Sahar’s gotten the most playtime recently, but Keoren the halfling monk, Astara the aasimar cleric, Squall the water genasi druid, or Kallisto the minotar barbarian (among others) are all also fair game (some are less fleshed out than others) 10. If your character had time to pick up any artisan’s tools, game set, instrument, etc., what would it be? So this isn’t an actual instrument/mechanic in the game, and it’s never come up in game, but Sahar can sing. Like, really well. She grew up in a troupe of traveling entertainers and learned from a young age, but she stopped when her troupe died (onset of the Tragic Backstory phase, hit me up for more on this I’m an asshole to my characters) and hasn’t really sung in the last few years. She enjoys dragonchess (keeps her mind active). I think a piece of her would like to paint more (she’s proficient in forger’s tools, it’s just a different sort of art) or pick up the lute and start singing again, this time accompanying herself. 

20. What is the biggest mistake your character has ever made? It’s hard to say whether the late teen years/early 20s spent as an assassin were a mistake since she really didn’t have a choice in the matter? I think at this point she’s starting to view the years she spent working for the Clasp after escaping her Tragic Backstory phase as a mistake. She didn’t have to stay in the life of crime, but she did and she’s not wholly sure how she feels about that? She’s not exactly a law and order gal, but her alignment has been shifting steadily from the neutral evil/True Neutral that she started at in the Tragic Backstory phase towards neutral good/chaotic good and I think she’s questioning whether or not she’s done more harm than good in her life and how she can make up for that. She also really really regrets leaving behind her baby sister in Ank’Harel when she left to try and find work but it’s been almost 10 years now... that’s a fun knife for a future DM rotation to stab me with. 

30. What would most people think when they first see your character? Violently purple tieflings with blackwork partial sleeve tattoos and ice-blue eyes aren’t exactly a common sight in Tal’Dorei. And recently, she’s spent a lot of time in small towns that tend to be a little more judgmental and less cosmopolitan than the big cities. Fear, fascination, disgust, awe... all are fairly common reactions. 

40. Where does your character feel the most at home? Sahar has never settled down in one place. She grew up a nomad, and the Tragic Backstory and her recovery from that left her living a very nomadic lifestyle with her two siblings (triplets!), and now she’s living on the road with her party. She feels most comfortable with a good book or some new spell she’s working on, a nice warm drink, and a cozy spot in an inn by the fire with a few friends. But anywhere with family, chosen or blood related, is home to her. 

50. Who in the party would your character prioritize rescuing, in dire circumstances? That’s a tough one, because Sahar is developing Feelings for one party member but also feels like she has to be the Big Sister to our warlock... She’s also an intensely logical person so like, she’d probably go for whoever she thought had the best chance of helping her save as many people as possible. In a split second decision, it would depend on who she was closest to but I think a big piece of her would pull towards our party warlock since she reminds her of the baby sister she left behind.

60. What decision would the party have to make in order for your character to consider splitting off from the group? It wouldn’t be a single decision. She’s had some concerns about the amount of killing the party does, but at the same time she doesn’t want to leave folks with grudges out there because that’s a knife in the back waiting to happen...  Anything in which children are harmed. If the party knowingly harms children, she’s out of there.  70. What is your character’s biggest pet peeve? People trying to talk to her when she’s ritual casting or absorbed in a problem. She likes to focus. Don’t distract her.  80. How does your character feel about receiving/giving orders? Are they more of a leader, or a follower? Prefers giving. Hates taking. She spent far too long taking orders under threat of torture or with the lives of her siblings held over her head, and she’s started to gain enough confidence to assert herself and she’s very aware she’s Smarter Than You. She’s a team player, but not a follower. Not anymore. She won’t let herself be.  90. Who is your character’s biggest rival? Her siblings Rhana and Zepar in the friendly rivalry sense. There’s some light competition between her and the other spellcasters in the party to do the most impressive shit, but that’s more in her head. And in a less friendly rivalry... she’s got a nemesis or two from her past she wouldn’t mind returning to the Dark Side to kill slowly and painfully. 

100. What, currently, is your character the most curious about? So because of the structure of our group, rotating DMs, she’s split off from the group to do some research in Westruun on a puzzle cube the party nicked off the dead body of a hag they killed, so she’s pretty excited about that. She was a little too curious initially and almost opened a portal to the Hells and freaked out about that for about a week, but now that she’s in a safe place with other trained professionals, I think she’s gonna let that curiosity flow

Whoo! Sorry that’s so wordy that was fun! Thanks! (everyone go check out Hannah’s @drinkingdeadpeopletea sideblog it’s got some great critical role and naddpod content and some other cool shit and she’s a great human!)

[macgyvermedical]

“Let’s Get to it, Nature Boy” a “Lidar+Rogues+Duty” Medical Review

A lot of times I sit down to write these reviews and think something like “wow, there’s a lot to unpack here.” Fortunately for this review, the only thing I thought was that somewhere an NSA agent is definitely going to have to read this because of all the alarming keywords. Hope they like clavicles.

Let’s get to it. Spoilers ahead.

The main story centers around Mac and Desi going on a mission to recover the body of LCDR Robert Reese, an old friend of Mac’s who was presumed dead when his plane crashed in an unauthorized part of Azerbaijan. While there they find that Reese is still alive, though injured, and that a group of American CIA operatives has found a cache of white phosphorus-based chemical weapons which they intend to sell on the black market. Mac and Desi manage to subdue the operatives using homemade tranq darts, prevent the white phosphorus from ending up in the wrong hands, and get Reese back home safely.

The main medical situations in the episode include Mac’s diagnosis and field treatment for Reese’s fractured clavicle, the potential use of white phosphorus as a chemical weapon, and the morphine darts.

A little spoiler for you, the morphine darts are what I’m mad about this week.

The Clavicle:

But let’s start with that clavicle break. The clavicle is the thin bone that makes up the front part of the shoulder, attaching at the shoulder joint and sternum. A broken clavicle is a pretty common sports injury and occurs when the patient falls either directly on the outside of the shoulder, or falls on their hand or forearm and the force travels upward. Due to how close the bone is to the surface, if the bone segments are displaced, deformity from the break is often visible or palpable (feel-able). 

^^The bump is where one of the ends of the bone segments pushed over the other. Euagh.

It’s entirely possible that Reese fell onto his shoulder or forearm when he detached his seat from the parachute, so this (or anything consistent with a fall) is a pretty expected injury. While most remote first aid guides would tell you to sling the arm or wrist (slinging the wrist only takes pressure off the shoulder and reduces pain), the splint Mac makes for it- a version of a “figure eight” splint- is also a real way of splinting a clavicle fracture. The figure eight splint would work much the same way it does in the episode, pulling the outer (distal) part of the clavicle up and back and putting/keeping it in a reasonable place to heal. It would also have the advantage over a simple sling of leaving the affected arm free and somewhat usable (though still not weight-bearing)- something that would be important in a remote and hostile environment.

The thing I’ll nitpick about this scene is the fact that Mac seems to know immediately without looking that Reese has a clavicle fracture, where the break is, and the best way to treat it. Reese was holding his arm awkwardly, looked like he was in pain, reported that he was banged up, and Mac knew that he’d recently fallen out of a tree. Together those would still only point to a shoulder injury, without specifics. Mac would still have to look at it (like, skin level look at it) and probably touch it to know it was a clavicle fracture (and not, say, a dislocation or other fracture) before splinting it.

I understand a lack of assessment was a decision likely made for time’s sake, but assessment is a really, really important part of the process- and it would have made a significant difference in treatment. A figure-eight splint is only helpful when the break is in the middle or closer (proximal) third of the bone, because the strap has to go somewhere that’s not directly over the break. A day after the injury, where they would have been in the episode, there might have been significant swelling and bruising which might make it difficult to know where the break is, and if that figure eight splint would be appropriate.

I probably would have gone with the sling either way, but I see why they did the figure eight (both from a cool TV thing(TM) standpoint and for mobility). Its the lack of assessment that’s the problem, not the intervention for once.

White Phosphorus:

I’m sure you all know the feel when your primary (academic) fascinations in life are toxicology and chemical weapons, so you’re constantly paranoid that you’re one google search or tumblr post away from a SWAT team showing up at your apartment.

About 3 years ago I did a lot of internet research on white phosphorus in order to write a Criminal Minds tag that followed up an episode where a character was tortured with white phosphorus salve (please excuse the minor errors in hospital realism, I had not yet graduated nursing school when I wrote it), and I was really excited that this episode might give me reason to talk about what I learned.

I guess it didn’t exactly, but I’m going to talk about it anyway.

White Phosphorus (known from here on out at WP) is a waxy, yellowish substance useful as a chemical weapon because of its versatility and plethora of uses other than terrorism. It doesn’t occur naturally, but is created and used extensively in industry as a necessary component in the production of fertilizer, cleaning chemicals, munitions, (illegal) fireworks, older rat and cockroach poisons, and certain food additives. Most common exposures are due to industrial spills, not terrorism.

WP can contaminate food, water, and soil as particles, or air as smoke. Eating or drinking contaminated food or water can cause severe gastrointestinal distress and fatal damage to the kidneys, liver, and heart in doses of about 50-100mg. Breathing the smoke can cause airway irritation and coughing, but is rarely if ever fatal at typical concentrations. Exposure to intact skin is also usually not thought to cause lasting damage, though as you’ll see in the next paragraph, that doesn’t happen often.

Another way WP can enter the body, and probably more relevant in the context of its use as a chemical weapon, is through burn wounds. WP tends to burn or explode on contact with any air above 86F (30C), and can cause extensive partial and full-thickness burns. The burns may have a characteristic yellow wound bed, and can pose a hazard to both the patient and rescuers due to the fact that unspent WP particles in the wounds can spontaneously re-ignite. Wounds must be kept damp until the patient is decontaminated to avoid re-ignition of the particles, and the careful use of copper sulfate or silver nitrate as an antidote can make the decontamination process a lot safer and easier.

Note that I don’t recommend googling this unless you have an exceptionally high tolerance for human suffering.

Instead, enjoy these curated pictures:

Picture “A” is of the yellow wound beds, and “B” is all the unspent WP glowing under a UV light. 

The WP passes readily through the burn-damaged tissue, and if the patient survives the burns themselves, can still cause fatal damage to the kidneys, liver, and heart.

Before we move on, I would like to point out one last particularly horrifying aspect of WP poisoning: It does not kill quickly. Initial symptoms of severe gastrointestinal distress may last up to 8 hours, after which a latent period similar to the kind seen in radiation poisoning lasts for about 3 days. Organ failure then develops, which if severe, usually results in death unless dialysis and a liver transplant can happen fast enough.

Tying this back in, you can see why the team didn’t want this getting into the wrong hands.

Morphine Darts

So now we’re finally here at the fun part. And by fun I mean... well, poorly portrayed?

Because honestly? Morphine could take these guys out, or at least make it difficult for them to fight, which would accomplish the goal of leveling the field a little. The problems in this scene lie, as they usually do in TV, in:

The route of administration-

Repeat after me, kids: If you are chucking a needle at someone, you’re hoping against hope to hit a muscle. Did I say “neck needle” anywhere in that sentence? Good. You should know how I feel about them by now.

I know they were going for the needle to have hit the exterior jugular, delivering the dose of morphine IV and therefore making it reasonable that the person could be quickly subdued afterwards without alerting his friends to the guy running around chucking needles at people. To give you an indication of how difficult it would be to do this, however, placing a 18g IV catheter into the exterior jugular (placing an “EJ”) is something RNs are not allowed to do in hospitals because there’s too much room for error. No one, not even MacGyver, could reliably throw something 20 ft and hit the EJ perfectly.

Plus, there’s a lot of really important things in your neck that you don’t want to just forcefully stick needles in randomly. While insulin needles are very small, it would still be safer and more effective and reliable to stick them in large muscles like the thigh or butt, which can also take considerably higher volumes of medication without injury.

The dose-

The validity of the needle chucking contraption notwithstanding, the needles they use in the scene are U100 insulin needles (not exclusive to insulin, that’s just what they’re called), meaning if you filled the entire syringe, the total volume would be only 1ml. Morphine comes in IV concentrations up to 15mg/ml. The most filled syringe I saw in this whole scene was to about the 0.15ml mark, so even assuming they used the frankly ridiculously high concentration of 15mg/ml, that would only be about 2.25mg/dose.

I say “only” because the starting dose of morphine for acute pain clocks in at around 4mg for otherwise healthy people. How much of an impact morphine has has a lot to do with size and tolerance, too. Some of the antagonists in this scene were big enough they probably wouldn’t have been knocked off balance by (or possibly even felt) 2.25mg, let alone felt “10 shots of vodka” as the scene suggests. At the peak of effectiveness, it might have given Desi a slight advantage in a fight, but wouldn’t have taken anyone down.

The time to onset/peak-

The last thing about these I’ll say before I step off (never!) is about the onset time. The “onset” is the length of time it takes, on average, for a drug to begin working, and the “peak” is when it is most effective. This is different between drugs and routes. Morphine’s IV onset is rapid (and at the speed this would have been pushed, probably would have made the person briefly dizzy and nauseated), but it still takes about 20mins to “peak”, so assuming Mac *did* impossibly manage to sink an EJ from 20 feet away and there was a high enough dose to do something, anyone in this scene would still have had plenty of time to alert others or fight before they were incapacitated. The best thing throwing a needle at someone in this scene would do is provide some distraction while Desi takes them out manually.

More realistically, morphine injected into the muscle takes at least 10 minutes for onset and up to an hour to peak and doesn’t have as rough of side effects, meaning overall that no matter the dose, morphine is a really poor choice for a tranq dart (but admittedly, if its what you’ve got, its what you’ve got. Also who decided just leaving it lying out in a supply closet was a good idea? The fact that it hadn’t been stolen yet is a miracle in itself.).

R E F E R E N C E S

So there you have it. If you liked this and want to take a look at other MacGyver reviews I’ve done, you can find them here: Awl - X-Ray + Penny - Duct Tape + Jack - CD + Hoagie Foil - Guts + Fuel + Hope - Wilderness + Training + Survival - Father + Bride + Betrayal

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