#i’m not surprised bc this happens every time with a girl who ‘gets in the way’ of a popular gay ship

[shadowandbones]

Rebloged with these specific tags because truer words have never been spoken.

I know we're all obsessed with Edwin and Charles (rightfully so), but can we also appreciate other characters? So many great women?? Crystal and Niko are so smart and amazing. Jenny's so cool??? The Night Nurse who's just trying to do her job? Even Esther, who's awful but a great villain. That show passes the Bechdel test in so many different ways, I can’t believe it

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 8

it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily

Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.

The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s. 

Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side. 

The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him. 

But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night. 

Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real. 

I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word. 

How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?

A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one. 

“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair. 

“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.

Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost��follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question. 

“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”

People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to. 

“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment. 

“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth. 

“No.”

“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”

Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.” 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up. 

Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table. 

Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you. 

Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God. 

But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out. 

Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you. 

Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially. 

“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door. 

“Um… Spencer?”

“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”

He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”

The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal. 

“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you. 

When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you. 

You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”

You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”

Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable. 

“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong. 

“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”

You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him. 

He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss. 

Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up. 

“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine. 

“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”

The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?

“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”

Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment. 

“I forgot. I thought… he said…”

A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze. 

“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”

And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound. 

“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”

“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”

His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text. 

“You didn’t see my note?”

The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling. 

“You left a note?”

Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will. 

It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough. 

A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty. 

“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly. 

Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”

“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan. 

He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck. 

“I didn’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”

You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak. 

“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”

Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you. 

“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”

“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more. 

He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” 

Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent. 

There is in fact something you’re keeping from him. 

Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet. 

And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about. 

“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”

Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.

Now he remembers. 

Long night, huh? I remember those days. 

It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all. 

Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor. 

“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning. 

You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”

If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated. 

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”

He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation. 

“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”

You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away. 

“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.” 

You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him. 

“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see. 

The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken. 

You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away. 

“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”

Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down. 

“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”

“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”

Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem. 

“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”

“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”

“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”

Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve. 

“Like… one at a time? Or…”

He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.

“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently. 

There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad. 

“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”

“Spencer—”

“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”

“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”

For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what. 

But that’s not the topic at hand. 

“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You swallow. 

“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

About what?

He says your name. No response. 

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting. 

“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers. 

Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”

Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”

You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back. 

“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”

“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”

He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”

“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”

Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?

A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting. 

“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”

Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here. 

He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough. 

“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you. 

“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”

So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list. 

You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough. 

Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice. 

He can’t not worry. 

And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him. 

-

part nine

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: GUILTY CONSCIENCE

✩ ‧ ˚. serial killer!au: ever since that first night, you can't get him off your mind—and even though you handed him over to law enforcement, it looks like he still wants you too. PART 1 | NSFW

contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, semi-public sex (in a bathroom), oral (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), pet names (detective, princess, smart girl, pretty girl, etc.), gojo cums in your mouth. non-sexual threatening. non-sexual usage of knives/guns. more plot than porn. this is not good for you btw !!! 4K words.

author's note: pls appreciate your smut writers bc this shit is hard !!!! the sk!series might be over after this one bc i'm not feeling it anymore, but nothing's set in stone yet. posting this for the ppl who wanted a part two, but personally i would've just left it as a standalone.. oh well, i didn't want 4K words to go to waste, so enjoy 🤍

“satoru gojo, what are we going to do with you?” your subordinate asks, resting his hands on the table dividing the dim interrogation room in two. you and your coworker sit on one side, facing the serial killer on the other side—who also happens to be the man you fucked in an alley two weeks ago.

ever since that first encounter, you haven’t been able to get his face out of your mind. at work, his ice blue eyes haunted your every move. at home, he was all you could picture as your mind strayed back to your time beneath him. and now, as you and your boss interrogate him, all you can think about is how good satoru’s hands felt roaming over your skin when you cornered him—or, more accurately, when he cornered you.

“i dunno,” satoru replies, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head. he grins shamelessly, looking you up and down with interest. “so, pretty girl, how’ve you been since we last met?”

you slip your hands into your pockets to stop yourself from doing something you’ll regret and ignore the curious look your coworker gives you. “this meeting isn’t about me. this is about the people you killed and the punishment you’re about to get,” you answer through gritted teeth.

satoru laughs, eyes locking with yours and seeing right through you. “that’s funny. so, who’s this shrimpy guy next to you? your boyfriend?” he jeers, grinning unnervingly at your coworker. you shoot your subordinate an apologetic look, which he responds to with a nod.

“i’m her boss, actually,” he clarifies, running a hand through his blonde hair and narrowing his eyes. “kento nanami. and i’ve been referred to as a lot of things, but shrimpy is a first.” satoru makes a face and laughs, as if he’s amused by the whole scene. 

“really? i’m surprised,” satoru replies easily. “i mean, whatever. i’ve seen better looking officers… like the one next to you.” he looks back at you, a careless smile still dancing on his lips. kento frowns and looks back and forth from you to satoru, and you force yourself to maintain a poker face in order to detract any suspicion.

“do you two know each other?” kento asks, crossing his arms. satoru starts laughing again, to which you roll your eyes. even if satoru were to tell kento what you hadn’t—that you two had fucked when you were supposed to be arresting him—you doubted that kento would believe him. after all, what’s the word of an obnoxious criminal compared to yours?

you shake your head and ignore satoru. “i’m the one who’s been leading the investigation on him for the past couple months,” you answer. kento meets your eyes and cocks an eyebrow, so you continue, “we met two weeks ago. i cornered him, but he escaped—”

“she let me,” satoru interjects, clearly enjoying the death glare you shoot at him a second later.

“you held a gun to my forehead,” you remind him pointedly, tapping the spot on your head where you vividly remember the cold metal resting against. 

“yeah, but i kissed it aft—”

“we’re getting off-topic,” kento interrupts, shooting you a warning glance. “detective, i’ll handle the interrogation from here.”

you hesitate, not liking how smug satoru’s expression is—but, seeing as you don’t have a choice, you dip your head in assent and exit the room. 

now that satoru’s been caught and is now in the grasp of the law, you don’t really have anything to do for the rest of the day. he was your case, and now, it looks like it’s closed, especially if your boss is the one interrogating him.

kento nanami has a reputation among law enforcement—he’s known as the stoic, serious man with a perfect record. there hasn’t been a single criminal he’s interrogated that hasn’t cracked, although the knot in your stomach tells you that this might be the first.

a sharp knock sounds on your office door, summoning you back from your train of thought. “it’s open,” you call, holding a piping hot coffee with both hands. kento opens the door and steps inside, eyebrows unusually tensed. his hands are balled into fists, too, in stark contrast to his characteristically calm demeanor. 

“something wrong?” you ask tentatively, studying your boss’s troubled eyes.

kento takes a seat in the leather chair in the corner of your office and rests his elbow on the armrest, rubbing his temples. “detective, be honest with me. what happened the night you were supposed to arrest satoru gojo?”

for the first time since satoru pinned you to the wall of a darkened alley, your heart drops. kento’s knowing eyes watch your every move, from the subtle twitch in your eye to the way your fingers tense around the cup of coffee. “what do you mean?” you ask carefully, surprised at how steady your own voice is.

“detective, don’t play games with me,” kento asserts calmly, hand casually drifting towards the side of his waist. you know him well enough to know what he’s reaching for—the same instrument that another man pressed against your forehead just two weeks ago.

despite your mind being clouded with fear and uncertainty, you manage to rationalize your way through the situation. what proof could your boss possibly have besides the word of a criminal? 

it’s your word against his—and you both know whose word kento’ll believe.

“that night, he threatened to kill me,” you start, repeating the story you told the authorities when they came ten minutes too late to catch satoru. “and he must’ve drugged me or knocked me unconscious because next thing i knew, he was gone.” your confidence grows with every word, and you start nodding as if you believe your own lies.

kento’s eyes narrow, and you force yourself to hold your poker face as he scrutinizes you and your words. three long, painful seconds of silence pass before his hand moves away from the holster strapped to his waist, and you internally sigh in relief. he stands without a word and makes to exit the room, but before he does, you risk it all. “why do you ask, sir?”

your boss pauses and turns back to you, eyebrows lifting in mild interest. he doesn’t answer immediately, and you tentatively ask, “...what did he tell you?”

kento exhales a soft huff of air, a look of dread in his brown eyes. “detective, for your own peace of mind, i assure you that you don’t want to know.”

well, fuck.

“i trust your judgement, then,” you reply, feeling your poker face start to slip away. you lift your now-cold cup of coffee to your lips and take a sip, attempting to hide the grimace that threatens to make an appearance. “have a good night, boss.”

“you too, detective. stay safe.”

“i’ll do my best.”

kento nods and heads out, and through your open window you watch him tell another one of your coworkers about how he’s planning on heading out early to make bread for his family, a gentle smile on his lips. eventually, he waves bye and exits the building.

you finish off your coffee and stand up, fishing out your key card from your pocket. you figure that you should head to the bathroom before you go home, just in case. a couple of your coworkers congratulate you when you come out of your office, praising you on the capture of your suspect. you take their compliments with a smile, ultimately wishing them a good night and escaping to the bathroom.

the door clicks shut behind you, and the comfortable quiet eases you at once. but before you can even appreciate the silence of the confined room, a sultry, familiar voice interrupts your thoughts. “aw, you weren’t gonna say bye before you left?”

you turn and your mouth drops open—standing before you, in the flesh, is the criminal you swore you last saw handcuffed to a chair.

“what the fu—”

satoru reaches out and grabs your wrist before you can scurry away or grab your phone. he pulls you into his chest, and you can feel his heartbeat against your back—at least, that’s what you notice before he clamps his hand over your mouth to stifle your yells.

“shut it,” satoru hisses, breath hot against the side of your face. he turns you towards the mirror of the bathroom so you can see how he’s holding you—one hand over your mouth, and one wrapped around your waist. “don’t try anything clever, sweetheart. i wouldn’t wanna have to hurt that pretty face of yours.”

you turn your head and glare at him furiously, cussing like a sailor against his hand. you eventually try to bite it, but your meager attack is essentially useless against his iron grip. satoru raises his eyebrows sternly and hushes you again, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. 

“i’ll answer your questions, honey, but be careful,” he pauses and nods at his pocket, where the handle of what appears to be a knife—how the fuck did he get his hands on a knife?—pokes out of the cloth. “okay, i’m gonna take my hand off your mouth now,” he murmurs, purposefully lowering his voice.

true to his word, satoru removes his hand from your mouth. you take a long breath and hesitate—again, there’s not much you can do in this situation but play along. if he’s telling the truth, you can ask questions and he can answer them, so you try your hand at getting some information and biding time. someone would have to walk in the bathroom eventually, right?

“by the way,” satoru starts, a grin curving the corners of his lips upward. “nobody’s gonna come save you, princess. the door’s locked from the inside.” he also removes his hand from your waist, letting you take a step back.

“how?” you ask suspiciously, unsure if he’s telling the truth or not.

satoru laughs—his hair falls into his eyes, and immediately shakes it away with a huff of breath. “i’m good with my hands. but you already know that, don’t ya?”

you back away towards the other side of the bathroom, where sinks line the quartz countertop. “why aren’t you still in the interrogation room?”

“you think you’re the only girl i can convince to let me go?” satoru tuts, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. he reaches into his pocket—not the one with the knife—and extracts a badge of some sort. satoru flicks it at you, and you catch it in midair. to your surprise, it’s the badge of one of your superiors who was supposed to be keeping an eye on satoru. the coy smile on satoru’s face confirms what you’re thinking, and his nod seals it the next second. 

“okay,” you say carefully, drawing out the word for a couple seconds. “how long have you been waiting here?”

“long enough,” satoru answers vaguely, not bothering to elaborate.

“thanks a lot,” you deadpan.

“nice to see that you’re still feisty—”

“and what the hell did you tell my boss?” you interrupt, suddenly remembering the dread-filled way kento had looked at you. the way your voice rises is unexpected enough to force satoru to involuntarily take a step back. it’s not much, but the step you take forward a second later to assert your position brings you a small feeling of satisfaction. after all, he’s only human—and all humans get surprised by loud noises.

satoru holds up his hands in mock surrender and eyes you skeptically. “you’re really worried about your boss’s approval, aren’t you?” he asks dryly, white hair falling into his eyes again. “heh, desperate much?”

you roll your eyes and curl your hands into fists—unfortunately, your action only seems to amuse satoru, but you ignore the little “aw” he coos and continue glaring at him. “answer the fucking question, satoru.”

“language,” he snorts. a second later, satoru cocks his head and thinks for a moment, and when his eyes land on you again he asks, “so, you’re still callin’ me satoru? cute.”

your face involuntarily heats up, and even though you’re sure satoru can tell, you pretend not to notice—again. “answer the question or i’ll scream.”

“you wouldn’t dare.”

��wouldn’t i?”

you don’t get the chance to fufill your threat, because satoru sees that you’re serious a second too early—everything’s a blur as he grabs your wrists and bunches them into one hand, firmly securing your hands behind your back. his chest rests on top of your back as he folds you over the bathroom counter, and his reflection leers at you from the mirror. “nice try, baby. but remember, you’re dealin’ with a world-class serial killer.”

“world-class? how humble of you,” you snap irritably, craning your neck to glare at satoru out of the corner of your eye. “you asshole, get off me or i’ll—”

satoru interrupts you by prodding at your lips with two of his fingers, forcing your mouth open and slipping them inside. you instantly attempt to bite him, but his fingers are so long that they trigger your gag reflex instead. “missed me, detective?” satoru coos, curling his fingers downwards and pressing on your tongue. a little whine involuntarily slips out of your lips, and satoru takes that as a yes. “yeah, i can tell,” he continues, studying your heated face in the reflection of the mirror. “i bet you couldn’t stop thinkin’ about me since that night, yeah?”

he doesn’t bother waiting for a response before he extracts his fingers and leaves you gasping for breath. you watch as satoru lifts his now-soaked fingers to his lips and runs his tongue over them, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. it’s disgusting, filthy even, but that doesn’t stop your thighs from clenching together in a futile attempt to hide your arousal from him.

“y’know, i think you’re wearing too many clothes,” satoru sighs, resting his chin on top of your head and smiling coyly. “wanna fix that for me?”

“do i have a choice?”

“no.” satoru pushes himself off of you and gives you enough space to start removing your clothes without his smothering presence. the idea of running away or screaming crosses your mind, but the serial killer’s smile makes you certain that you’d regret it—and that’s even disregarding the knife that’s still shining at you from his pocket. 

seeing as you don’t really have any other option, you slowly shrug off your coat and let it slide down your body and onto the floor. your collared shirt comes off next, followed by your pants, until there’s hardly anything shielding you from satoru’s hungry eyes. the feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach is hard to describe—it’s something like a mix between longing and fear, two emotions you hadn’t felt since that night.

and maybe, even though every instinct you have insists that this is the last thing you should be finding pleasure in, you want to feel that way again.

“you really coulda been anything in the world with that body,” satoru sighs, leaning back against a wall and taking his sweet time looking you up and down. his eyes narrow slyly as he watches you shrink away from him instinctually, and the next thing you know, he’s on you again, hands tracing over your skin and lips unbearably close to yours. “although, i guess it’s a good thing you’re a detective, ‘cause i wouldn’t have met you if you weren’t.”

you shouldn’t be agreeing with him, and as he lifts you up onto the counter, you also know that you shouldn’t be letting him do this. it goes against everything you swore to protect when you joined law enforcement, and if this ever got out—no, when it got out, you’d be the pariah of the city.

but even after thinking it through, one, two, maybe even three times, you can’t find it in your heart to care about much else than the hands pushing apart your thighs and slipping inside your shamelessly wet cunt.

“heh, how long has it been since we last did this?” satoru coos, eyes glazing over with a mixture of lust and adoration. his face is redder than you’ve ever seen it—the blush spreads all the way up to the tips of his ears, and it’s even more prominent underneath the overhead lights as he eyes you. “two weeks, right? feels like it’s been twenty.”

“do you ever shut up?” you mutter sourly, averting your eyes from satoru’s. he responds by curling up the two fingers he has inside your cunt, a mean little smile on his lips. 

“careful with that mouth of yours,” satoru warns, pushing his fingers in farther until he’s practically knuckle-deep inside of you. his thumb rests firmly against your clit, toying with the sensitive skin. “it’ll get you in trouble one day, pretty girl…” satoru withdraws his fingers in one swift motion with a soft, wet pop. he lifts his hand to his lips and licks off your slick, swiping his tongue over his fingers a couple times with a smile. “y’know what? i’ll let you go if you can do one thing for me, ‘kay?”

he waits for your response, raising an eyebrow patiently for you to catch your breath. it almost feels like deja vu, or some cheesy movie from the 90’s: the pretty little detective getting fucked by the big bad serial killer, and you know how these films always ended—not pretty.

“what?” you ask halfheartedly, expecting him to ask you to do something like erase him from the police records or sabotage the investigation. satoru cups your face with both hands, leaning in close enough for his lips to brush against yours, and his smile is almost mocking when he replies.

“suck my dick.”

part of you wants to ask “that’s it?”, but the glimmer in satoru’s knowing eyes makes you certain that he won’t make this easy for you. 

“what if i say no?” you ask tentatively. it’s a stupid question—now you’re just playing russian roulette with his rationality, and either way, you already know your decision.

the past two weeks have been torture. every waking moment of yours was spent thinking about the man you fucked, and every time you thought of his carefree smile and feather-light touch, you just felt guilty for wanting more. after all, when you first became a detective, you swore to prioritize your job and not make any personal relationships with your subjects. and yet, here you were, almost too eager to get on your knees for the serial killer who you swore to incapacitate. 

satoru shrugs nonchalantly in response to your question and not-so-subtly shoots a furtive glance at his pocket, where the handle of his knife still pokes out. “you’re a smart girl. i think you can guess, yeah?”

and that’s how you ended up with your lips wrapped around satoru’s dick for the seventh time (if you include every fantasy you’ve had about giving him head). it’s almost funny how he switches up the second you run your tongue over his blushing pink tip—his face goes red, all the way up to his ears, and the little breathy moans that slip out of his lips would be adorable in any other context but this.

“f-fuck, wasn’t expecting you to be this good,” he manages to mutter through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering open and shut. “where’d you learn to suck dick like this, heh—”

it’s been.. a while since satoru first helped you get on your knees in front of him and unzipped his pants, and even though it could’ve just been a couple minutes, it feels like this is all you’ve ever known. satoru’s ice blue eyes have barely moved from you since you started, and it looks like it’ll stay like that until you finish—or, more accurately, until he finishes.

satoru’s foot bounces on the floor as you lick a long stripe from the tip of his dick to the top of it, and the way his nails dig into his palm makes you absolutely certain that he’s close to cumming down your throat. “shit, don’t— don’t stop,” he chokes out, threading his fingers through your hair and involuntarily pushing down your head. “fuck—”

when satoru finally cums, it’s pitifully obvious—actually, it’s almost embarrassing. last time, you were the one in shambles when he was done with you, but now, it looks like it’s the other way around. his eyes flicker as they almost roll back from the sheer pleasure of you sucking him dry, and when satoru’s cum shoots out of his painfully hard dick, it’s a hot mess that leaks out of your mouth and down your chin. 

“y-yeah, good girl,” he murmurs shakily, reaching down and swiping his thumb over your cum-soaked, swollen lips. you lick off the thick, viscous liquid from his fingers instinctually, a dazed little smile on your face as you watch satoru tilt his head back towards the ceiling.

it’s interesting, seeing the city’s infamous serial killer like this. he’s leaning back against the white tile of the bathroom walls, chest heaving from his orgasm, and in that moment, you realize that his attention is on everything else but you. 

so, naturally, you stab him in the back.

not literally—that’d be a pain for your office’s custodian to clean up, but you extract the knife from satoru’s discarded pants and, before he can register the sharp object in your shaky hand, you press it to his blush-red throat. 

satoru’s hazy eyes widen in disbelief as he realizes what’s going on before they narrow in what looks almost like a mix between anger and shock. it’s stupid, foolish, and almost naive, but somewhere in your chest, it feels like a dagger pokes at your softened heart when you categorize the look in his eyes as betrayal. which is, by all accounts, entirely unreasonable—did he seriously think you wouldn’t take advantage of him like this?

at the end of the day, no matter how good the dick was, you weren’t about to sacrifice your well-paying job for a man on the run from the law.

“what the fuck?” satoru snaps, hand twitching in a movement to throw you off of him, but thankfully, the sudden shift in atmosphere heightened your instincts to a point where nothing could possibly catch you off-guard. you dig in the knife a millimeter deeper into his throat, avoiding eye contact with the man you just made cum with your mouth. “are you—”

“yeah, i am,” you assert, biding time. as much as you’d like to pretend that you’re completely in control of the situation, there’s only so long that you can hold up this stalemate. satoru’s stronger than you physically, and the second he figures out a way to handle the knife pressed to his neck, he’d get his revenge.

satoru comes to this conclusion about as fast as you did, and his lips curve upwards in a jeering smile. the look in his eyes is borderline insane when he snarls, “nobody’s gonna rescue you from me, princess. just you wait—”

and, with perfect comedic timing, the bathroom door opens, and one of your female co-workers steps in. you’ve never talked to her much, but thankfully, her instincts are even faster than yours.

what happens next goes by in a haze. your co-worker holds a gun to the side satoru’s head, and calls for backup. then, a handful of sleepy-eyed police officers haul away a cursing and fighting satoru to who-knows-where.

but just before he’s out of sight, satoru shoots you an unsettlingly calm look. and as if that wasn’t concerning enough, the last words he mouths to you are “this isn’t over.”

[chelseeebe]

and they said, speak now

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of cheating. femreader!xeddie. no use of y/n!

a little second chance romance story wherein eddie is invited to your wedding, though he’s hopeful that it’ll never actually happen.

a/n: wanted to get this finished so i could start writing a follow up for too sweet (bc i love it and i love mean asshole eddie) so i hope it bridges some sort of gap while i write :p switches pov a lil bit but it’s all marked out 4 ya.

“-gettin’ married to who?” eddie spits, barreling into the living room with a mouthful of cereal.

steve looks up from the paper invite and shrugs, “mark?” mouthing a quiet i don’t know as robin looks between the two.

“and i’m invited?”

“i mean.. it says all of us so..” he looks up at eddie, “do you even want to go?” dubious at eddie’s overly keen questioning.

eddie’s bewildered that he’d even ask, “‘course we’re fucking going,” shaking his head, still gripping onto his bowl of cereal, “i didn’t even know she was datin’ anybody else.. what the fuck.”

robin shares a look with her best friend, thinking eddie hasn’t seen. he knows exactly what they’re not saying. it doesn’t exactly need to be spelled out for him.

perhaps eddie hadn’t ever really gotten over it. it being you leaving to new york for college, breaking up with him in the process.

maybe they were justified in their judgemental glances, it’d been years since you’d left. he should be over it by now. evidently, you’ve moved on. why hadn’t he?

but he wasn’t and now he’s not sure if he’ll ever be.

-

the five of them shovel into jonathan’s car, robin squished between eddie and steve in the back with their bags piled high in the trunk.

eddie stares out of the window, he had started to regret agreeing to go. his ex-girlfriend, whom he wasn’t exactly over, was getting married to some fuckhead he’d never met and now he had to go and wear a suit and pretend to be happy about it all.

“i still can’t believe she’s getting fucking married,” he grumbles into his fist.

robin grins, nudging her elbow into steve’s ribcage, “oh this going to be so much fun,” elated at his misery.

jonathan sighs quietly, throwing his head back against the seat and slyly turning the volume up so as to not hear any more of eddie’s whining.

there’d been months of it, so he’s not surprised.

-

eddie is fucking elated to reach the hotel, gawping at the grand exterior as they get out of the car, stretching their legs after the long trip.

“jeez,” robin utters, staring at the tall building with her mouth hung open, “at least she’s marrying rich, hey?” wiggling her brows at eddie’s less than excited face.

he doesn’t rise to it, ignoring her obvious attempts to get him riled up.

it’s even nicer inside, gold plated ornaments decorate the walls, outdated paintings of old people he didn’t care to know, joining them.

they’re in the process of checking in when a familiar voice comes from behind, a small, meek, “hey guys!”

it’s you.

they spin, sharing tired smiles as you stand looking horrifically awkward. like somehow you hadn’t shared years and years of history with every single person here.

everyone else gets a short, half hug, exchanging niceties while eddie waits patiently for his turn. he doesn’t think you’ll even acknowledge him.

but your eyes lock, that same sinking feeling that he felt all those years ago as he watched your car pull out of hawkins plagues his stomach.

“hey,” you nod, tense as you open your arms for a hug.

it’s more than he’d ever expected, now finding himself stuck, unable to embrace the situation. you’re exactly the same and yet he feels like he doesn’t recognise you. barely touched by the graces of age, still the same girl he was sure he still loved.

eventually he pulls himself together, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you in.

fuck.

you even smell the same. the heavy vanilla scent of your shampoo wafts through the air, transporting him back in time to nights shared in his cramped room, talking about the future together and how you couldn’t wait to get out of hawkins.

it’s utterly ironic, and not to mention heartbreaking, to think about now.

“hi,” eddie musters, sounding as pathetic as he felt.

the others watch on in anticipation, expecting a screaming match only to be met with whatever the fuck this was. dancing around each other like two complete strangers.

“how.. uh, how was the drive?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers, the way you used to when you were nervous.

“long,” he smiles meekly.

there’s too much he wants to say, desperately wanting to just shake you and ask what the hell you’re doing getting married to someone who’s not him.

besides, four sets of eyes watch both of you eagerly, hoping for an argument or maybe the exact opposite.

“there you are!” a gruff voice bellows, coming out of the mouth of the most insufferable looking man eddie’s ever seen.

he walks over with his shit-eating grin, taking you away from eddie’s grasp, leaving an aching in his fingertips.

your brows shoot upward, sighing softly, “everyone, this is mark.. mark, these are my..” your eyes dip, unable to meet eddie’s gaze, “friends.”

mark’s hand extends towards eddie, grinning like a complete fool as he shakes it. “nice to meet you man! heard so much about you,” his grip tight, squeezing the tired bones in his hand.

eddie wonders if he’s asserting his dominance, if you’d told him who exactly he was. about all those years you spent as his girlfriend. about how he used to make you cum in two minutes. or perhaps all the times you swore that if you had to get married, it’d be to him.

eddie doesn’t count on it.

-

eddie waits. and he waits. and he waits.

pacing the floor of his room, contemplating if he truly had the nerve to stalk the halls to your room or if he’d have to sit here and regret it forever.

fuck it, he thinks. there’s no guarantee he’ll even knock on the door, he just needs to get out of here and at least try to.

eddie’s acutely aware that nothing he says to you will change your mind in fact, he thinks you’ll more than likely slam the door in his face.

but he’s gotta try.

- reader’s pov -

it’s a quiet knock, barely audible as you toss and turn.

you debate even answering, too caught up in your nerves to care about some bridesmaid complaining about her dress or your mother prattling on about the floral arrangements again.

but then they knock again, louder this time though it sounds more unsure, a hesitant wrap of the knuckles, pulling yourself from the comfort of your blanket to see what they wanted.

you hardly register who the person is before immediately wanting to slam the door in his face.

“what are you doing?” you hiss through the small gap in the door, noting that it was somewhere between 11 and midnight.

“i wanna talk,” eddie frowns, carefully wedging his foot between the door, as if you wouldn’t immediately notice.

“we don’t need to talk,” you refute, scowling at your batshit crazy ex.

he sighs, looking around the empty corridor, knowing he shouldn’t be here right now. “can we.. i just wanna talk.. that’s it,” his eyes wide and begging.

you take pity on him, you always did when he had that pathetic frown on his face. like a dejected puppy that needed you to cradle him.

something in your head screams out to just close the door, it’s a terrible idea and you know it.

alas, you pull it open a few more inches, giving him the chance to slide inside before it’s shut again, turning the lock immediately.

if anyone were to walk in, your relationship would be ruined, tomorrow would just be a waste of money and you’d be a social pariah in your circles.

“why didn’t you tell me that you were getting married?”

the nerve to ask that question like he deserved an explanation. you haven’t even seen the man in years and yet, he feels as if he’s owed something from you.

“i didn’t know i had to,” you shrug, standing a few feet away from him, hoping to keep the distance.

eddie scowls, brows knitted into a line across his forehead, “you don’t- i thought we were friends.. friends tell each other those things.”

“you haven’t seen me in years eddie!” raising your voice despite being surrounded by your friends and family. “what gives you the right to march in here and ask me that?” stepping closer with every word, taken aback by his sheer nerve.

his eyes harden, jaw tense, “you left me- you did that and then the next time i hear from you, it’s because you’re getting married? s’that not completely fucked up to you too?”

“i didn’t leave you! i went to college, like people our age are supposed to! it’s not my fault that you’d rather sit in jeff’s basement pretending to be a rockstar,” snarling your upper lip, hoping you’ll hit him right where it hurts.

if nothing else, it’s frustrating. eddie was always talking about his big dreams and how he was going to get out of hawkins once and for all, make something of himself and never look back.

but you got tired of waiting for that to happen. years and years of soon and i’m not ready’s had left you pretty hopeless for any kind of future with him.

he shakes his head, scoffing, “oh? so should i have followed you to new york? watched you change everything about yourself for some asshole?”

there’s a lump in your throat now and weirdly, not a speck of anger. at least not about his words for your fiancé. more so about his complete disregard of your feelings, the dreams you put on hold for him.

“i didn’t.. i didn’t change,” bottom lip trembling, “this is me eddie,” nostrils flaring as you skulk closer, “you just don’t know me anymore.”

“i know you better than he does,” he fires back, adams apple bobbing in his throat. a sincere, honest tone.

it only makes you more frustrated, the audacity to come here and act like this, the day before your wedding.

you laugh in his face, a maniacal cackle, “you’re deluded,” gathering all of your strength not to punch him in the face, “you should leave, before you embarrass yourself any more.”

he’s almost frantic now, grasping the air, “i’m not the one embarrassing myself here. the you i know would never want this.. what happened to that girl who promised to marry me? where’s she?”

“people change eddie! you clearly haven’t!” you hiss, prodding your finger into his chest, hoping you’ll somehow set him alight with your fingertip.

he grabs your hand, keeping it close to his heart as his frown sets in. “tell me- tell me that this is what you want, the big wedding and fucking mark and a coupl’a kids, tell me and i’ll leave,” downturned eyes, begging himself not to cry.

you want to scream, ferociously snatching your hand away from him before you turn away. sick to death of looking into his glossy chestnut eyes. loathing the feeling of your past flooding back into your brain.

a few years ago, you would’ve been certain that eddie was the one you were going to marry. marriage wasn’t something you were ever particularly interested in, your parents hadn’t been the best example. but if it had happened, it would’ve been nothing like this, maybe in the tiny chapel in hawkins, a couple years from now, a small, private ceremony with your friends and family. you’d be lying if you said you had never thought about it.

about what could’ve been.

somewhere, buried deep inside, you longed for it.

eddie doesn’t budge, hearing the sounds of his heavy breathing from behind. you can picture that stupid look on his face, pathetic and sullen as he waits for a fleck of hope.

you turn back, praying that you’ll have somehow found the strength to tell him to leave in the two seconds it takes to face him.

it doesn’t come, the lump in your throat dissipating only to be replaced with a fiery pit in your stomach.

and then a moment, where neither of you have the guts to speak any longer, in what feels like the most intense battle of eye contact you’d ever been a part of.

but it’s over as quickly as it started, both of you lurching forward at the same time, lips crashing together in a hungry kiss, finding the side of his head for leverage as his antsy hands grip your waist.

the rest is just a silent routine, one you two have been through a hundred times before.

your back crashes into the desk, pressed into the wood by his torso. a hand squeezing your thigh as you’re helped onto the surface.

the metal on your fourth finger aches, as if some higher power is attempting to intervene, to stop this mistake before it goes too far.

it’s dutifully ignored, spreading your legs to allow him between your soft thighs. the thin material of your shorts meant that you could feel everything. his cock jumping as it brushes against your heat, low grumbling into your mouth at the action.

his jacket slips from his shoulders and onto the floor, your soft hands running down the length of his arms, brushing against the tattoos you used to spend hours tracing.

eddie’s hands roam your body, between your thighs, tucking underneath the elastic of the shorts as your hips lift in unison, allowing him to pull them down.

his throat rumbles at your lack of underwear, rough denim pressed against your cunt, his erection demanding out of his jeans.

your fingers fumble with his jeans, hearing the low clink of his belt somewhere muddled between his grunting and your melodic pants.

the throbbing between your thighs becomes almost insatiable, finding your own release on the rough fabric of his jeans, sighing into his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip into yours instead.

cold fingers grip your thighs, lifting your legs so that they rest around his waist, clothed cock nudging against your heat, growling into your mouth.

your head jerks back, “my mom.. my mom’s next door..” you pant, fingers trailing over his lips, doing nothing to muffle his raspy groans.

“good,” eddie smirks, hurriedly tugging his boxers down beneath his balls, burying himself inside of your soaked cunt, “i never liked her.”

a strangled moan is all you manage in response, grabbing at the desk for a little leverage as his hips meet the back of your thighs. any anger you felt towards his insults towards your mother quickly float away, turning into static as he slides slowly in and out.

marvelling at the sight of your cunt once again envelopes around him. you’d missed that, his damn near infatuation with your pussy.

the wooden frame knocks against the wall, whatever shit you had compiled for the morning all comes tumbling down, clattering to the floor alongside your long mewls.

eddie near enough melts, fingers melding into one with your skin, filling your cunt to the hilt. a certain feeling that had never been replaced, only achieved by him and his undeniable love for your pussy.

your lips catch onto his, attempting to muffle his hoarse groans, hoping to to god that the walls were thick enough.

“missed you,” he murmurs, half into your mouth, the other vibrating against your chin as your lips connect in the most careless manner.

your eyes flutter shut, chest heaving, pressed to his as your fingers begin to loosen their grip on the desk. his pace unfaltering with utter desperation, an exhilaration he had chased for years, to no avail.

“fuck,” you whine, regretting the shaky word the second it slips out. one arm hooks around his neck, forehead resting against his as his hair begins to stick.

it’s so disgusting, so wracked with desire that you’re sure you’ll be thinking- feeling it for months.

eddie’s cock nudges against against the spot only he could ever find, his pubic bone catching against your clit. fuelling the inextinguishable fire in your stomach, only making it rise into your throat.

with every fervent thrust he’s grumbling something;

fuck, shit, love you, love you.

your legs tremble, exhausted as they sit around his zealous hips. naturally, they tighten, drawing him in closer, an incessant need to feel all of him all at once.

“you can’t.. not inside,” you pant, opening his eyes to meet his though they’re not on yours. staring starry eyed at the space between your bodies, watching as they collide in ways your heart had longed for.

he’s close, you can tell. choking on his breaths when you squeeze around him, signalling your own orgasm.

“fuck, i can’t-,” eddie howls, desperately pounding his cock into your quivering cunt, giving everything away for the last thirty seconds.

you cry out, toppling over the edge as your stomach all but bursts, the pleasure reaching every last nerve in your body. clinging to his neck with a white knuckle grip, clutching his clammy skin as your body turns to mush before him.

eddie just about manages to pull out, sliding between your slick folds before his stomach lurches, shooting thick ropes of cum onto your stomach, thighs and the desk.

your foreheads remain as one, gasping into the hot air that surrounds you.

finally, his eyes trail up toward yours, meeting with the most sorrowful look that a man who has just cum, could hold.

it’s as if reality sets in, untangling your legs to shove him away. harsh and untoward as he stumbles back, still reeling from his own orgasm.

“oh my god,” you mumble incoherently, “oh my god, i’m getting married tomorrow,” clenching your fist, shouting as if he were somehow unaware.

his silence is deafening, his release still clinging to your body as you jump from the wooden table, marching into the bathroom, swallowing the urge to cry.

eddie stands with his head hung low, belt still undone as you sanctimoniously barging back past him to redress yourself, muttering ferocious whispers to yourself.

“i’m getting married tomorrow,” you repeat, unwavering anger in your voice. undecided on whether you were telling him or yourself that fact.

“so you’re still gonna marry him?” eddie asks, a slight hint of optimism in his tone. he had reason to be, you suppose. anyone else would assume the same.

you swallow, “what else is there for me?”

getting married had been the next logical step. you had the job, the house, the sweet, timid guy that wouldn’t hurt a fly. why wouldn’t you marry him?

his face crumples, brows stitched together in confusion, “me?”

almost on instinct, your head shakes, smacking your palm into his shoulder, “no. not you. it’s not supposed to be you,” a certain sadness plaguing your tone, “it was never supposed to be you,” palm slapping into his chest.

eddie’s face falls, holding his jacket in his hands wishing you’d take it back, tell him you were lying and that you really did still love him.

buried somewhere under years of regret, you probably still did.

tears weep out of the corner of your eye, quickly wiped away with your trembling finger. “you need to leave,” eyes pointed to the floor, refusing to look at him any longer.

he sighs, hesitantly stepping around the mess you both had made and out of your peripheral view. slow steps, willing for your mouth to open and those three words to dance out of it.

the door clicks shut and you’re alone again. nauseous and wishing you had just let him stay, wanting nothing more than to be held in your insurmountable feelings of remorse.

-

you’ve barely slept, overwhelmed with a sense of guilt and indecision.

six years of work and making something of yourself had come horrifically crashing down in one night, one stupid, moronic mistake.

but was it really a mistake when your heart still aches and your lips still feel the traces of his.

a short knock breaks you from your trance, the noise you’d been dreading all night.

sarah. bright-eyed and stupidly excitable nature, ready for your wedding day.

“woah,” she remarks, eyes darting around the room you’re just now realising you forgot to clean, “crazy night?” she smirks, eyeing the bottles and pens that had fallen from the desk to the floor.

“oh,” you smile, bile rising in your throat, “i’m just..” clambering for an excuse, “clumsy.”

she scoffs, dumping her bag on the unmade bed, “you don’t have to lie to me,” smile growing, “if you and mark wanna.. break traditions then i’m all for it.”

her wilful innocence makes you feel all the more worse. you’re supposed best friend was none the wiser, bouncing around with a proud smile, ready for your wedding day.

- eddie’s pov -

steve notices something’s up immediately.

dark rings accompanying eddie’s eyes after he had gone missing for hours last night.

“you good?” steve’s hand thwacks against his back, assuming eddie’s manner was all to do with the fact that you were getting married and not that only a few hours ago, he was telling you that he still loved you while you were having sex.

the ride to the venue is quiet, which everyone appreciates, having prepared for a litany of complaints and whining.

the church is even more extravagant than the hotel, resembling one of those castles he’d seen in a fairytale book.

he wants that to make him feel better, that at least he wasn’t the one wasting all of this money on a stupid wedding, but it doesn’t.

because irregardless of how much money you were spending, you were still marrying someone else.

sure, it wouldn’t be a particularly honest nor holy marriage but it’d be a marriage nonetheless. something he would never have with you. no matter how hard he tried.

they file into the pew, sitting slumped against the varnished wood as everyone chatters around him.

concerned heads fly around, the groomsmen rushing up the aisle as they’re beckoned by your bridesmaids.

eddie sits up, looking around at the frantic bridesmaids who were desperately trying to get the pastor’s attention. something’s wrong. he can feel it in his bones.

he throws up a quick two with his fingers to steve before sliding out of the pew, ducking his head down the aisle as he searches for you.

slipping past the worried wedding party, opening a multitude of doors in search of you. hoping that you’d at least made it to the church, that you were okay.

he doesn’t expect to find you in here, holding onto your mouth, mascara stains dripping down your cheeks, curled into the corner with your shoulders shaking. eddie slips in, shoving the broom in between the door handle, ensuring that no one else could find the pair of you.

you spend a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes until you squeak, “what’re you doing?” the most soul crushing tone that makes his heart ache.

“i came to find you,” he says, simply.

because he would, he’d do it in every life.

your palm smears the black stains around your cheek, scoffing at his words. “you shouldn’t have.. i’m fine,” trying to convince yourself more than you were him.

“you don’t look fine.”

your bottom lip trembles, threatening to spill over again. evoking a harsh stab of guilt through his chest. eddie surges toward you, placing his palms over yours, “you don’t have to do this.. we can leave right now,” he assures, searching your eyes. he’d whisk you away in a heartbeat, you didn’t even have to ask. just give him that look.

your nostrils flare, a wail constricted to the back of your throat, trying hard not to alert the hundreds of wedding guests sat just a couple hundred meters away. the dark light of the closet does well to accentuate your tearful eyes, his heart aching with every sniffle, every quietened sob that falls from your lips.

then, you growl, rather forcefully slapping his chest, “this is your fault,” fingers grabbing onto his suit jacket, “why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” frustration seeping out of your words.

eddie doesn’t have an answer, at least not one that would make you feel better.

so he stands in silence, letting you treat him like your verbal punching bag.

“i can’t do it,” you cry, burying your face into his neck, “i can’t.. marry him.”

he nods, stood just before you in this cramped closet, “you don’t have to,” assuredly grabbing your sodden cheeks, streaks of black stain his palms, “we can go.. anywhere you want, right now.”

promising the world because really, it was all he had to offer.

he wasn’t rich, hadn’t figured out how to get the fuck out of hawkins yet but he did know that he loves you and he’d do anything to prove that.

you swallow, averting your eyes to the sparkling ring on your hand, curled into the fabric of his jacket. “okay,” flicking back to his eyes, it’s so simple and yet it knocks the breath from his lungs.

nothing really registers, eddie had planned for more bargaining, certain that regardless of his pleas, you’d still end up walking down that aisle, promising yourself to another man.

“really?” he asks, clarifying for both himself and for you. there was still time for you to pull yourself together and go get married, he wasn’t going to deny you that.

“really,” you nod frantically, “i’ll go anywhere,” tugging at the collar of his shirt, “anywhere with you.”

[r3starttt]

STREAMER! GF! ELLIE

M.list

Streamer gf! Ellie whose wall is almost filled with guitars even though she only plays with one specific and does it just for you.

“Y’all wanna see the guitars? I only use that one actually” she moved her chair to show it properly, pointing her index finger at one that was lying on the floor

“Want me to play? I haven’t done it in a while”

Streamer gf! Ellie who remembered everyone that she had a girlfriend once she went super viral (and got made fun of bcs there was no way she could even approach to any girl without getting nervous and it seemed)

Streamer gf! Ellie who made you appear on stream with her after that just to prove you were in fact real and dating her.

“For today’s stream I’m gonna show y’all my wife, be nice, but not too much” she grabbed you by the wrist, bringing you closer to the camera and only showing you from your nose down.

“I told y’all to not be so nice, why’re you even calling her mommy? What’s wrong with you people”

Streamer gf! Ellie who got insisted on doing more streams with you so she started to play with you on stream (ofcs your favorite games most times) and bringing you with her anytime she played any horror game.

Streamer gf! Ellie who started to play Minecraft with you once a week on stream (having more views those days too) because people loved the dynamic you two had for that one game specifically.

Streamer gf! Ellie who ended up showing your face by accident while trying to adjust the camera and panicked once her chat told her because she thought you’ll get mad or something

“What do you mean? No I did not-“ she started to open like ten different tabs on her computers, checking something desperately and trying to push you so you wouldn’t see the screens “what? What happened?” you asked, confused.

Ellie was panicking but the chat didn’t seem to take it so seriously so you laughed at her too, still fully confused and trying to understand whatever the screens showed. That until you saw you face on a clip “Did you just show my face?”

Her eyes shifted to you, not saying a word “El, did you? Really?” once she heard you laughing it was like the sudden tension on her body disappeared almost immediately, letting out a small laugh as well “Well everyone, meet the wifey” your hand slapped her arm, not to hard but with how dramatic she is; she pulled away from you ‘oww’

Streamer gf! Ellie who tried to make a vlog and failed because she doesn’t know how to hold the camera properly (you ended recording everything for her)

Streamer gf! Ellie who social media is full of shit posting, kitties and you (likes every edit her fans make about you)

Streamer gf! Ellie who once did a bet with you during stream and ended up getting long nails because she lost almost immediately

Streamer gf! Ellie who wears lots of “I love my girlfriend” shirts on stream

Streamer gf! Ellie who spoils you a lot and likes having small dates with you, like building legos together, doing movie marathons or going shopping. Just anything where she can spend her money on you and have a nice time together.

“Babe, wake up” you were covered in blankets, hugging a pillow and trying to cover yourself from the warm but very bright rays of sun that entered trough the open spaces in between the contains. Groaning the moment Ellie started to pat your back because that meant she was either hungry or bored and needed you up too.

“El, let me sleep… cuddle with me, Mhm?” the way she chuckled made you turn around, trying your best to open your eyes properly “I have a surprise for you” her sleepy voice elicited a smile on you “yeah?”

She got under the blankets, crawling to you until she was practically on top of you “yeah, and I don’t wanna be late” her lips pressed on your forehead, hands on your face making small circles around your cheeks with her thumbs

Streamer gf! Ellie who insists on you making your own YouTube channel or something like that because people love you a lot and you would be a very talented influencer

Streamer gf! Ellie who got excited when you first opened an account somewhere to interact more with the fans and did lots of spam about it

Streamer gf! Ellie who begged you to get a cat. She wanted the orange + black combo originally but ended up getting a gray kitty she found on the street (and it’s obsessed with it, it’s her baby) She named it either a stupid name or something game related

Streamer gf! Ellie who apologizes a lot for having to go on stream during the weekends or when you’re free and feels bad for not being able to spend more time with you

Streamer gf! Ellie who always goes to cuddle with you and the cat after every stream and asks you to tell her everything about your day

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for dating Wally West

Wally West x reader

warnings:

a/n: i was debating whether or not y/n is on the team or not n for this im going for y/n being a regular civilian but now im debating making dating hcs for a hero too 🤭

prompt: anonymous: “But if you're still taking requests (and speaking of fast haha), I would absolutely love if you could do a lil' something about Wally West ♡. I love that track star to bits and we're entering my favorite season ever : spooky season (or autumn for people who aren't chronically online like me). So if you'd be tempted to write some fluff/domestic stuff in autumn with Wally, I would be over the moon! 🦊”

wally is so annoying (in the best way!!)

you aren’t too used to the whole idea of dating a metahuman, every day is like an adventure

and for a speedster? you’d be surprised how hard it is for him to find the time

but he makes time

*doorbell rings*

“you’re twenty minutes late” -you

“in flash-time that’s early” -wally, holding a half-eaten box of chocolates “i got a little hungry”

on his “days off,” you could usually find the two of you on the couch with a variety of snacks scattered across the coffee table and crumbs peppering the cushions and floor

“the dog will get them” -wally

“hate to break it to you, but i don’t have a dog” -you

“should i get you a dog?” -wally

he was always so goofy

and affectionate, very affectionate!

he loved to give you cheek and forehead kisses, so many so fast

“how many was that?” -you after noticing repeated pressure on your cheeks

“going on a hundred. i’m trying to beat my record!” -wally

it always ended up tickling and you’d laugh until you fell over

“wally!! wally, come on!!” -you

you’d always get bummed whenever he got called for a mission

especially because it always happened in the middle of something (dinner, a movie, study date, etc.)

then when he came home he’d be a wreck and then you’d be a wreck because you’d see him like that

then he’d have to calm you down and you’d have to help him feel better

“you dont have to do that, im fine! i swear!” -wally while you panic and try to take care of him

being invited to the cave!

meeting the team!

“just because youre meeting a half-kryptonian clone, a martian, an atlantean, some girl with a bow and arrow, and batman’s sidekick doesn’t mean you get to think any of them are cooler than me, kapeesh?” -wally

“oh yes, i know you’re the coolest” -you

the team loves you!!!

“wow, wally, thanks for proving your s/o isn’t imaginary” -artemis

“youre welcome” -wally

“do you want to come bake with me?!” -m’gaan

“please say yes, y/n. i’m so hungry. so so hungry” -wally

“let’s do it!” -you

starting to camp out at the cave while wally is on missions

also once some more dangerous people figured out wally’s identity, you got your own access code to the cave. EMERGENCIES ONLY

you used it to surprise wally once and got a stern talking to from batman. never again

you dont really spend too much time with the team, but you get invited to most of their friendly outings!

and you talk up a storm with the others trying to learn about their lives, which sometimes makes wally a liiiittle jealous

but you want to live vicariously through these interesting people bc ur life is a liiiittle boring

“can you tell me what atlantis is like? what it feels like to be underwater and how your fighting style differs on land?” “what’s your favorite dish to make on mars? do you like communicating this way or the telepathic way more?” “why do you always wear sunglasses, man?” (you know this one dick is like wally’s bestie) -all you

seeing wally less than usual when things start to heat up in his hero life :(

causes some strain and you get so so sad :(

but he always calls you when he can and tries to make up for it

and somewhere down the road when he retires you’re able to spend all your time with him and he makes up for lost time like he promised

ok i’ll stop there. happily ever after.

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @azazel-nyx // @simsrecs // @xoxobabydolls // @ravenstrueluv // @cicatraize // @captainshazamerica // @bad4amficideas // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @jade-178 //

[fairlyang]

18+ smut. mystery girl cont. 1.3 🕷️

w/c: 1.8K

tags: 18+ smut. filth filthy filthy. going back, finding him, voyeurism, surprising him, blowjob, properly riding him, unprotected sex, slightly possessive x2, creampie

a/n: alright we’ll see how long this goes for bc it’s been fun writing them all back to back

part 1.1 | part 1.2

as soon as you got home you took out one of your toys because the sexual frustration was actually killing you.

it was killing you so much that the next morning you drove your ass to the sex toy store again. you didn’t have each other's numbers so you only had to manifest he'd also show up bright and early because he wanted to see you so bad.

you walked into the store and quickly went into the back, then practically ran to the theater. you went through the double doors and you could hear faint moans. the projector was playing some porn with a girl getting fucked by a huge guy.

you gulped and went to the right side and sat on the first seat in the back row. there were only a handful of people on each side based off the moans and groans but only as you were sat down did you decide to take a look around.

you looked at your row and no one was there. you stood up a little and looked at the row in front of you to surprisingly find the man that’s been living in your head.

his chair was slightly reclined and you could see his head on the headrest of his chair. you walked over to the right since he was near the middle of his row and you were now able to hear his moans.

you watched as he jerked himself off intensely watching the screen in front of him. you fought back a moan at the sight and walked to the left to get to him because you needed him so bad.

his eyes were glued to the screen until you came into his view and he gave you a wide grin. you gave him a sweet smile then dropped to your knees.

he frowned and shook his head, “I need to make up for last night.”

you shrugged and took his cock in your hands, softly stroking him while retaining eye contact, “let me do this first.”

“fine but I’m cumming inside you.” he says and spreads his legs so you could get closer.

you kiss his tip and flutter your lashes at him, “is that a promise?”

he groans and brings a hand down to your jaw, “absolutely.”

you squeezed your thighs together and took him in your mouth, not wasting any time and taking as much as you could down your throat. his hand took its place on your head, gently pushing you down to encourage you to take more.

you let him and took more of him as you bobbed your head up and down his length, surprisingly able to take more than half. he groaned and laid his head back as you looked up at him.

he looked down at you and there was just something about you that he couldn’t put his finger on yet but you were definitely going to be trouble. he was already growing obsessed, he just wanted to take you back to his place and take you in every square inch of his house.

but he’d have to wait a bit until that happened.

“that’s such a good fucking girl.” he murmurs making you squeeze your thighs together.

who knew praise from an older man could have such an effect on your body?

apparently he did because he continued.

“you like sucking off a complete stranger’s cock baby?” he murmurs and you moan against him.

he curses under his breath and you go all the way down until you could feel his pubic hair tickle your nose. you then pulled back all the way and let the saliva drip down to his cock as you took a breather.

you stroked it and stuck your tongue out before slapping the tip onto your tongue. miguel was losing it and he was trying his hardest to not pull you off your feet and just take you how he needs.

based on how long it took you to actually take his cock, he decided his against it because if he was one thing he was always a gentleman.

which is why he grabbed your arms, pulling you up before he stood up and he made you sit down. you got comfortable as he got down and spread your legs apart.

he kissed your right ankle and slowly started kissing up your calve to your knee then very slowly kissed up your thigh. he kissed your inner thigh then went up to kiss your clothed clit.

he moved down then licked a strip from your entrance up to your clit which left you breathless. his eye contact was so insane but you couldn’t look away.

and you were definitely already wet enough for him.

“Miguel please I need you already.” you whined with a pout on your lips.

he looked down at your panties and the entirety was soaked. you completely drenched them.

without another word he grabbed you and sat down then pulled you on top of him.

you grabbed his cock and positioned it to your entrance, hoping your body was ready. you moved down just enough for his tip to go inside making you whimper.

you lifted yourself up then went back down, taking more than just the tip. no pain.

You went back up then fully slammed down making you both moan. “Fuck baby-“

“you like when strangers ride your dick?” you breathlessly teased and he just chuckled.

“only pretty ones like you.” he murmured making you clench against him.

his eyes rolled back and you put your hands on his shoulders to help you. his hands were on your hips and he was helping you bounce before he’d take over.

“so fucking pretty.” he mumbled and you bit your lip.

you stared down at his lips and you had an urge to scratch. you leaned in, getting closer to his face as you moved your hips up and down slowly.

he was watching you intently. he could read your mind from a mile away so he didn’t hesitate to lean in and kiss you. you kissed back and brought a hand up to his jaw as his roamed your body.

the kiss was slow at first before Miguel turned it into a hungry and hot one fast by sliding his tongue into your mouth. you moaned into his mouth and you could feel him twitch inside you.

you moved your body faster as you kissed him back with just as much passion when he suddenly pulls away and starts kissing down you jaw then to your neck. “you feel fucking amazing gorgeous.” he murmurs against your skin and you just whimper.

you continue at your pace until Miguel kisses down your chest then cleavage and you go faster. this time you wore another dress with no bra so your tits were bouncing in his face and he felt like he was getting teased.

he took them out and squeezed them, then pinching your nipples having you whimper more for him. you slowed down a little since it seemed like he was going to be giving them attention no matter what.

he squeezed them together then latched onto your right nipple and started sucking. you moaned and with one hand bringing him closer because it all just felt so good. “just like that Miguel-“ you moaned and he pulled away to suck on your left nipple harder.

“Shit-“ you groaned and straightened up but he was latched to you like glue.

He then pulled away once again to suck on your right nipple and you bounced harder making him moan against you. he finally pulled away then pulled back in to suck on the skin right above your right nipple.

he pulled away and admired the red mark he left. he needed you to be all his. immediately if possible. he really didn’t like to share and the way he could see the men watching you from the row behind you, he needed to make sure you would be.

“I’m gonna fuck you now okay? Let me do the work.” He says and you nod.

you lifted yourself up a bit but he shook his head and brought you all the way down. first he pressed the button so the recliner can move back because he wanted to fuck you the same as the first time.

he lifted his hips up slightly then started pounding into you like there was no tomorrow. the noises alone were enough to get the attention of everyone in the theater so some of the guys were just jerking off while watching. luckily your back was turned to them so you had no idea. just completely focused on the absolute pleasure you were getting from this man.

you moved your body down and laid your head against his chest while slightly arching your back. his arms were wrapped firmly around you and you were a moaning mess.

he’s so happy he took the gamble on coming in bright and early hoping you’d come in as well. you had incredible sexual chemistry together and he wasn’t willing to let that go to waste or to have someone else snatch you.

and clearly it paid off.

he murmured sweet praises then dirty nothings right after just so he could see which ones you liked more. considering you clenched against him for both wasn’t a very good indicator but at least he knew you did like both.

“miguel- so good-“ you moaned out as he thrusted deeper he murmured sweet praises then dirty nothings right after just so he could see which ones you liked more. considering you clenched against him for both wasn’t a very good indicator but at least he knew you did like both.

“I know baby. fuck-“ he groaned as you started to kiss his neck and chest.

you then started sucking on his skin because it was only fair you left your mark on him too.

you weren’t too fond of sharing either.

he felt his orgasm coming close and his thrusts started becoming more sloppy and just deep. you hold onto his arms as he twitched inside you. your own orgasm was coming in and he was hitting your sweet spot so perfectly everytime you closed your eyes it was like seeing stars.

“please cum inside me-“ you murmured and slammed your ass into him.

he groaned and his thrusts got harder, his grip on your body was getting loose and your body was starting to shake. you both continued doing your thing at the same time so it was to no surprise that you both came when you brought your ass down as Miguel thrusted deep inside you.

he released all his load inside you and you just let out shaky breaths as he held you and kissed your head gently. your eyes closed and you could hear your heartbeat loud and clear in your ears.

you took slow and steady breaths as you calmed down while miguel did the same. his chest was going up and down and hearing his heartbeat was kind of comforting in a way.

you laid in his arms just cockwarming him and calming yourself down while Miguel shooed all the pervs away because he just made sure to make you his in front of all of them so they wouldn’t forget it.

[atlabeth]

price of dreaming

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: luke's spiral and the part you play in it.

a/n: this is so sad i'm sorry. like it's just a couple thousand words of luke being sad with a cute little flashback and a percy mention to make it all more sad. i don't know what's wrong with me why did i start writing this series

wc: 4.1k

warning(s): pretty severe angst bc this takes place after hurricane's death and goes up to mid tlt. death ideation, minor descriptions of injuries, luke isn't the best person, just a whole lot of sadness.

Luke returns to camp two weeks after your death, nothing more than a shell of himself.                      

Half of his time was spent sitting in an interrogation room in a Boston police station, mumbling his way through questions he doesn’t know how to answer. It’s not every day that a teenage girl is found nearly ripped apart in the middle of a city with her boyfriend completely broken next to her. Two EMTs had to literally drag him away from you—at least, that’s what they tell Luke. Everything after your heartbeat stopped is a blur for him. He doesn’t really even know how he got to the station.

And that’s how it is for a while. He talks to detectives who don’t believe him, he stares at the wall and wishes you were here, he goes home with your mom. She’s being asked just as many questions, and she refuses to leave him out on the street or take him back to camp. She doesn’t understand that Luke’s done it all before. 

Eventually, the officers settle on a freak animal attack. It didn’t make sense for an animal capable of doing that to be in the city, but mortals see what they want to see. Luke is just thankful to be out of it. 

But he doesn’t know what to do next. There’s a huge gaping hole in his chest and in his life without you, and he doesn’t know how to live without you. Every time Luke closes his eyes he sees your face, and he hasn’t been able to sleep through the night since it happened. He only really manages to stay out when his body practically shuts down from exhaustion. 

Your mom treats Luke like a second son while he’s living with her, and it pains him more than anything. She asks him if he wants to stay with her, try and finish out the semester. He was surprised she still wanted anything to do with him. 

Luke declined. He loved your mom, but being in that apartment without you—walking past your room and knowing you would never be there again, seeing a space you carved out for yourself knowing the most integral part was missing—was just too much for him. The full reality of you being gone still hadn’t sunk in yet. 

He’s soured on the city of Boston as a whole. He’s felt your blood on his hands since the moment it stained his fingers, and for as long as Luke lives he will never forget the look on your mother’s face when she showed up at the police station. 

Your mom offers to drive him back to camp, and though he wants to say no to that as well, he doesn’t. Luke can tell that she needs a distraction, and he doesn’t really know how else he’s gonna get back to camp. They don’t talk very much on the way there, but neither of them burst into tears, so he considers it a victory. 

She parks at the bottom of the hill and hugs him so tightly he can’t breathe, but he welcomes any kind of feeling. 

“Stay safe, Luke,” she says, her hands on his shoulders. “And if you ever need a place to stay—”

“I know,” he interrupts. “And I’ll try.”

She nods a few times, and she blinks back tears as she looks up at him. “Thank you for everything you did for my daughter. For all those years that you kept her safe.”

It clearly wasn’t enough, Luke wants to say. If it was, he wouldn’t have lost you back then, and he wouldn’t have lost you now. But that wouldn’t help anyone, so he nods. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his throat still dry as a desert. 

“Always.”  

“I know how much you meant to each other,” she says softly. “I’m so sorry, Luke.” 

He holds back his emotions. “So am I.” 

Your mom nods again and they say their goodbyes once more, hugging one last time. When Luke reaches the top of the hill, he looks back to see her still standing there. He wishes he could do something to ease the pain, but he doesn’t even know how to deal with his own. 

Luke stops at Thalia’s tree, and he already feels that lump in his throat. 

“I hope you’re together in Elysium,” he murmurs. “I always thought you would like each other.” 

The beginnings of tears prick the back of his eyes and he clears his throat, shaking his head like it’ll help silence the millions of thoughts scattered around his brain. If Thalia lives on like this, he hopes your spirit is still around somewhere.

“I love you,” he says quietly. “And I’m sorry I failed both of you.”

Nobody at camp knows. How could they? 

Luke wasn’t expected back until the summer, though, so his presence at the top of the hill is telling in of itself. Especially alone. 

He ignores everyone that tries to talk to him and gets to the Big House to break the news to Chiron. Thankfully, when he dissolves into tears, it’s behind closed doors. Chiron takes it in a saddened stride, and Luke wonders how many heroes have died in his lifetime. 

You have no siblings to make a burial shroud, so the Athena cabin takes up the responsibility. Annabeth invites him to take part, but he can hardly stomach the thought. 

It’s beautiful. They emulate the ocean through embroidery and Annabeth even gets a little Red Sox patch in. They let Luke burn it, and he’s amazed he even makes it through the ceremony. But the entire camp shows up, and there isn’t a single dry eye. He hopes you at least know how many people care about you. 

Chris takes over as counselor for the indefinite future, which is probably a good thing when Luke can barely muster the strength to get out of bed most days. He picks at his food when he’s able to make it to meals, and his prayers to Hermes have never felt emptier. He used to do one for Poseidon every so often, especially when you were at school, but the thought makes him sick. His eyes never stop trailing over to Cabin Three’s table. 

The Poseidon cabin is empty again. 

Luke doesn’t fully realize the path he’s taken until he’s standing in the doorway and the scent of salty air hits him. He’s so used to hanging out with you after dinner that he just went there automatically. 

It feels unfinished. It is unfinished. You had a whole box of things back in Boston that you wanted to bring back to camp to decorate. 

Your posters still hang on the walls—Blondie, Pearl Jam, Alanis Morisette. Fairy lights are falling down in the corner, and they’re unplugged. Luke had to remind you to unplug them before you left for the school year. 

You should be standing next to him, smiling and laughing and dragging him in behind you as you rant about capture the flag or the canoe race you definitely didn’t cheat in. He blinks away the tears building in his eyes and he takes a step back. 

You should be here. You’re not. 

(How many more times is he going to end up here chasing ghosts?) 

There are some things a person just can’t get over. 

And that’s how his days go. He barely manages to get out of bed, picks at meals that taste like sand, musters what little strength he has to lead sword lessons, endures pitiful looks and sympathetic speeches. 

Luke gets lost in the past more than he should, oftentimes sitting on the beach talking to you as he watches the waves roll in or sneaking out to the dock in the middle of the night to be in the company of the only person he can stand. 

By the time summer comes back around, Luke is sure of three things. 

He isn’t ever going to be the same again. 

You should still be alive. 

He won’t rest until he’s torn Olympus down brick by brick. 

-

“It’s quiet here,” Luke said.

“That’s what happens when you don’t have any siblings,” you murmured. 

His eyes trailed over to the door and you nudged him with your shoulder. “What do you keep looking over there for? Scared someone’s gonna catch us?” 

He shrugged. “We’re technically not allowed to be in here together.” 

“They can’t say anything,” you said. “We’re both counselors. And no one’s in this place anyways. Besides,” you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, “we’ve earned all the time in the world.” 

Luke smiled and snaked an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “You think so?” 

“We lost two years together,” you said, laying your head on his chest. “Far as I’m concerned, no one can say a damn thing to us.” 

“It always feels like we talk about the past,” he said. “What about the future?” 

“All I know is I want you in it,” you mused. You always loved resting on his chest because you could hear his heartbeat, could feel the slight rise and fall from his breathing. It meant he was alive, and after what you’d been through, that was more valuable than anything. 

“Obviously,” Luke said coyly. “I want you in mine too. But what about the details?” 

“We gotta finish high school first,” you said. “Have you thought about what I said?” 

“...Yeah,” he nodded. “It’s just been a while since I’ve left camp. Going back to school seems rough for someone who hasn’t been in classes since elementary school.” 

You shook your head. “Which is exactly why my school would be perfect for you. We left at the same age, remember?” You took his hand and began to trace the lines of his palm. “It took some getting used to, but I made it. If I can, so can you—and I’ll help you every step of the way.” 

Luke chuckled softly. “I’m a little worried about leaving Annabeth.” 

“Annabeth of all people would support you going for your education,” you said. “And it’s not like she’ll be on her own—everyone likes her here.” 

“...Talk me through it,” Luke decided. “Say we both go back for the school year. What does a sophomore year for the two of us back in Boston look like?” 

“Well, we’d be living together. We have an extra room in our apartment, and I’m sure I can convince my mom to let you take it.” You let out a sigh as you shifted, moving closer into Luke’s side. “We’d take the T together to school, but you don’t have to worry because I can show you around everywhere.” 

He chuckled. "I could use a refresher on Boston. Don't have the fondest memories there."

"We'll just make some new ones," you promised. “I’m on the soccer team, too. I was JV this year, but I’m gonna make varsity next fall—mark my words.” 

Luke rubbed your shoulder as he hummed. “And I’d come to every game.” 

“You better.” You glanced up at him with a smile. “You could try out for something too. I think you’d make a killing in basketball.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Do you not remember all those pick-up games we played when we were younger and bored? I was gods-awful.” 

“This’ll be different,” you insisted. “You’ll actually be sleeping on a bed every night, and eating consistently. I think that makes you a better athlete. Plus, you’re not three feet tall anymore.” 

Luke laughed as he intertwined your fingers together. “The star soccer player and the mediocre basketball player. We make quite a couple.” 

“You’d be better than mediocre,” you said. “Anyways—we’d play our sports and kill it, I’d introduce you to all the friends I made last year, I’d show you all around Boston, and I’d get you hooked on the Red Sox.” 

He leaned back against the headboard with a chuckle. “You’re really never gonna let this go, are you?” 

“It’s my sovereign duty to put you onto the Red Sox,” you said, “especially surrounded by all these Yankees. I’m gonna get you to a game one of these days. And after we kill sophomore year, we’ll kill junior and senior year.” You tapped on his chest for each year with your free hand, and his smile grew. “Then we’ll graduate high school together. With honors, and monster-free.” 

“You have such high standards,” Luke said wryly. “I’ve always thought I’d be lucky to pass with C’s.” 

“You haven’t always had me,” you mused. “And when we’re together, we can’t lose.” 

Luke smiled as he looked at your intertwined hands. “Y’know, I think your plan sounds pretty good. I’m pretty sure I could put up with school if it meant more time with you.” 

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. Luke moved his hand to keep you there, and when you pulled away, a delicate blush painted his cheeks and pure love danced in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile. 

You were the luckiest girl in the world. 

“Thank you,” you said. 

Luke offered a sideways grin. “For what?”

You shrugged. “For being you.”

“Thank you, then,” he said. 

“For what?” 

“For sticking with me,” Luke said. “Through everything.” 

“I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else,” you murmured. 

-

The second year isn’t any easier. 

Luke is back to being year-round. There’s no point in going home—not when Connecticut hasn’t welcomed him in years. Not when he would just be another problem for your mother in the midst of her grief. 

So he stays at camp. Endures the pitiful looks from everyone, lies his way through attempted therapy with Chiron, trains more than ever before. No one seems to know how to treat him, because he goes from completely alone to swarmed with sympathy to completely alone again. It takes two months before his friends are acting like he’s a normal person again, and even then it still feels like they’re walking on glass. 

Luke can’t find enough inside of him to care. 

He practices with his sword until he feels like his arms might fall off, only narrowly avoiding the harpies each night. His siblings ask how he does it, why he does it, and he just says he wants to get better. 

But Luke refuses to let it happen again—not when his surrogate sister is all he has left. Not when he sees you every time he closes his eyes. 

His birthday comes and goes, but seventeen is empty without you. He replays your past conversations in his head, about traveling together and graduating together and maybe even going to college together. Demigods aren’t meant to think about the future, but he dared to dream with you. 

And the worst part was that you were right. You made varsity. You were in the middle of killing sophomore year, despite Luke struggling his way through with C’s and the occasional D—you had always been smarter than him. You got him out to a Red Sox game, and gods forbid, he actually enjoyed it. 

You were living the life you deserved, a life of happiness and success and with Luke, and you didn’t even make it past sophomore year. You were meant for so much more, and every day he questions why it was taken from you. Every day, he questions why you’re gone and he’s not. 

The year chugs on in all its misery, and for the first time since he all but rejected him as his son, Hermes appears to Luke. 

His father gives him a quest, and he takes it despite the inherent insult of it. Maybe some part of him hopes he’ll die out there and finally get to see you again. 

(Another part wonders if he’s even worth Elysium. Luke lost you once, then he lost Thalia, and now he’s lost you again. Some kind of hero he is.) 

He goes it alone. It takes him back to the first couple of months before he met you, and when the thought hits him, it almost overwhelms him. Everything makes Luke think of you, but it makes sense. He’s only living half a life—he’s missing the other half of his soul. 

Luke fails his quest. He manages to get a claw and he manages to nearly lose an eye. There’s no glory in a repeated quest, but there might be even less glory in this. 

And once more, Luke staggers back to camp as a victim rather than a hero. Someone only worthy of pity, someone so weak that Chiron bans quests unless they’re absolutely necessary. It takes weeks for the scars on his body to heal, and the mark on his face even longer. He becomes well-acquainted with the cycle of Apollo kids that take shifts in the infirmary.  

He feels nothing but disgust every time he looks in the mirror. After all, the claw marks ripping their way through his body match yours. Sometimes he wishes Ladon finished the job. 

It doesn’t make sense why, after everything, he’s still here. 

Luke can hardly stand to be at camp, but he’s got nowhere else to go. He gets better at hiding his emotions, better at acting like he’s gotten through it. New demigods show up and he’s not the bereaved counselor anymore—he’s not introduced with his grief. He hides it away.  

No one wants to deal with all the problems he’s racked up. His mom, his dad, Thalia, you.    He’s a demigod. Demigods are resilient. So he plays the part—he’s been through a lot, but he’s past it. He promises he’s not a burden anymore. He’s just a normal kid. 

And for a while, Luke is almost able to believe it himself. He’s never going to be over you, but he starts feeling like a person again rather than a ghost of one. He’s fully taken over the mantle of counselor again, and he’s actually present during sword-fighting lessons. He even manages to get a six-month-long capture the flag winning streak going on. 

And then Kronos appears in his dreams. 

Luke knows Greek mythology. It’s hard not to pick up a couple things when you’re fighting stuff from the history books, but they teach some lessons at camp. It’s nice to know what you’re up against before you die a brutal death. 

Kronos killed his father. He ate his children. Every wicked deed was done for power, and power is what he offers Luke. 

And maybe there’s something wrong with him, because it’s the first time he’s felt hope since he left Boston. 

Luke finally has an answer to something. He’s been silently cursing the gods for years, trying to figure out a way to tear everything down without getting himself immediately killed, and he’s got one. 

Kronos speaks to him most nights. He remembers the dreams you shared with him in your final year, all the restless hours spent sitting together on the fire escape as he soothed you. You thought Kronos was the reason for it, but he couldn’t have been. His dreams were nothing like yours. 

But still, Luke wonders every day what you would say if you were here, if you knew the treacherous path he’d embarked on. Kronos promised power, freedom, an end to Olympus and the reign of the gods. 

He doesn’t care about power. He just wants to hold you again. He wants to hear your laugh again. He wants to see your smile in more than pictures. 

But he can’t. And he wants to destroy everyone responsible for it. 

So he does everything the Titan Lord asks of him. He hones his skills even further, he lays low, and when the time is right, he steals Zeus’s bolt and Hades’ helm. Luke even nearly beats Ares when he’s caught, but Kronos doesn’t lead him astray—he speaks of divine war, and he gets out of it. 

He continues to see you. Kronos doesn’t lead him astray, but he punishes him for such a close call. Luke wakes in the middle of the night, eyes wide and chest heaving with labored breaths, and he feels your blood on his hands all over again. He sees you die over and over again and he can do nothing to stop it.  

You always told each other about your nightmares. 

That’s the hardest part of it all. You’ve always been so closely intertwined with Luke’s life since the moment he saved you in that aquarium years ago, and he can’t see any way to let go of you. He can’t—even though you’re gone, you’re still a part of him. His first instinct in any situation is to tell you, and it kills him that he can’t. 

And maybe things would have turned out different for Luke if you were still around. He’s never going to forgive himself for your death, and he’s certainly never going to forgive the gods. Thalia pushed him to the edge, but you were the breaking point. Luke is only nineteen and he’s loved and lost more than most.

Maybe things would be different if you were here. But you’re not, and they aren’t. So when a new demigod shows up, covered in monster dust and nearly dead on camp’s doorstep with Grover in tow, Luke doesn’t hesitate. 

He killed the Minotaur, and his mom is dead. Skilled enough to take on a quest, desperate enough to ignore a couple warning signs. Percy Jackson is the boy Kronos told him about. 

So Luke takes him under his wing. Shows him around camp, welcomes him to the Hermes cabin, trains with him one-on-one. 

Something about his spirit reminds him of you. It’s the grit, he thinks. The determination. The refusal to back down even when it’s the smartest option. When he asks about you that night in the Hermes cabin, Luke’s heart stutters. The kid is too sharp for his liking. 

It doesn’t take long before Luke manages to cement himself as one of his friends, maybe only third to Annabeth and Grover. He’s a lost kid that’s been thrust into a world he doesn’t understand, and Luke is the closest thing to a rock most campers have got. 

It’s supposed to just be a guise, but sometimes, he forgets himself. He likes Percy too much—he just feels too much like a younger brother, and that’s not really good for the already growing guilt in his chest. 

Maybe it’s because Luke sees himself in Percy. Someone playing a part he’s not aware of, an unfortunate pawn with no choice in the matter. Luke tries to push it away. Kronos wouldn’t lead him astray—this was the path he had to take if he wanted anything to change. 

But it’s not like that makes it easier. Because gods, Percy has never looked more like a kid than when he’s suited up in armor for capture the flag. It almost makes Luke regret the plan he has to enact. 

Almost. 

Annabeth has a plan as usual, and thankfully Percy plays the part of bait. Luke tunes out of everything else and lets his battle senses take over—things have already been set into play, and now all Luke can do is hide in plain sight. Soon enough he’s got the red team’s flag past the boundary line, and he’s hoisted up onto his teammates shoulders. Luke is almost able to forget what he’s done. 

…Almost. 

A howl rips through the forest, and the hellhound Luke summoned after the start of the game launches itself at Percy. He’s on the ground before he knows it, the flag forgotten in his hand as he rushes over with the rest of the campers. 

For some ungodly reason, Annabeth tries to step in front of him, but she’s thankfully too slow. The monster swipes at Percy and its claws shred through his armor. For a split second, Luke is back in Boston and his chest stills.

Chiron solves the problem with a cluster of arrows, but the camp is in immediate disarray. Clarisse instantly accuses Percy, Annabeth is trying to make sure Percy doesn’t die, and Luke just hopes his shock is believable enough to hide his annoyance. He’s just a scrawny kid—how the hell is he still alive? But then the unthinkable happens.

Annabeth tells Percy to step back in the lake. The instant he’s in the water, what should have been a fatal wound starts to heal. 

And then a glowing blue trident appears above Percy Jackson’s head. 

Luke feels sick as he lowers himself to one knee with the rest of camp. As the hellhound he summoned melts into the shadows, as he stares at the sacrificial lamb of a demigod meant to unknowingly enact his plan. 

“Poseidon,” Chiron says. “Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.”

Your brother. 

[chocosvt]

HER | part six (m).

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

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 22.6k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

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

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

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

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

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

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

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

here it is... the FINAL part 😭 it seemed that a number of you were quite worried as to how i'd wrap this up, and i can finally give you the answer! :3 this has been an epic journey. thank yew for ur time 💕

more rambling continues at the very end. as per usual. again, a little bit more of an early upload! as a treat <3

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

—SEPTEMBER 30TH.

The morning after was strange.

Early sunlight permeated through the living room’s white cloth curtains, dappling in water-like speckles against the glasses still held on his nose. For a moment, Wonwoo was frozen, as his mind made the shift from deep sleep to consciousness, though when he finally did awaken to find his blanket half-pushed off the recliner and the remnants of Chinese takeout left scattered across the coffee table, his lethargy started fading.

Vernon was gone.

Judging from the text on Wonwoo’s phone, the boy had quietly made his way out at around seven in the morning. It surprised Wonwoo to no end that Vernon could manage to sleep so little yet remain fully functional all the time. He seemed magic—or maybe it was something else that Wonwoo would be concerned to know about.

He spent some time cleaning off the coffee table.

Down the hall, his bedroom door remained closed.

When you finally did emerge, it was with the olive-green dress draped over your arm and the ivory heels in hand, which you proceeded to arrange on the small dining table by the kitchen.

Notably, however, there was something off about you, something that Wonwoo interpreted as nerves with an underlying awkwardness you didn’t typically, if at all, demonstrate. When he asked if you wanted breakfast and tea, your response was a tiny head shake and a poorly fit smile. Though, Wonwoo wasn’t going to paw at you.

He found that mornings always tended to be quite sobering, even if he hadn’t exactly drunk enough to make the room spin or swallowed some colourfully disguised pill on his tongue. Just the air was enough to rewire his head—that cooler, crisp air that he either loved or hated.

Undoubtedly, you had much to think about.

Wonwoo helped you get a hold of Princess using his phone, and the two of you watched television in silence while waiting for her to pick you up. He escorted you down through the pottery shop when it was time, and you sported very little shame, walking out onto the bright city sidewalk in just his t-shirt, clothes and shoes wrapped in your arms. Princess had this awfully perplexed look slapped onto her face while leaning over to nudge the car door open for you, and in that  moment, Wonwoo was scared of how it all appeared and what might transpire now that the giddiness and frivolity from the night before had ebbed away. He didn’t regret anything, though. Not at all.

But, in truth, what the fuck even were you two?

And what was supposed to happen now?

—OCTOBER 3RD.  

Since you had left his apartment in a daze that Saturday morning, Wonwoo hadn’t seen or heard from you. It was concerning him as time passed, he couldn’t deny it, but he also trusted you and wanted not to make you feel pressured into explaining yourself.

He was caught in a brisk walk along campus after leaving his early lecture, a warm coffee cup pressed against his lip that he had grabbed from the ground floor of SRX—they had been giving hot drinks away for free, and, consequently, it tasted like it. Nonetheless, the air was chillier by the day as autumn pushed its way in and decorated the walkway with dry leaves that rustled and crunched under his shoes. It was nice to have something hot in his hand.

He took a second to glance down at his phone.

Still, no messages from you, Wonwoo realized with a suckling sip of the very watery coffee, nearly tempted to text you himself—not anything pushy—just a simple reassurance that he was there for you if things weren’t going well.

Suddenly, however, Wonwoo had smacked into someone.

“Fuck—sorry,” he muttered, readjusting the computer bag slung over his shoulder and pushing up his circled glasses.

To Wonwoo’s complete and utter misery, he was unfortunately acquainted with the person he’d bumped shoulders, and now he was wishing that he had just kept walking like an impatient asshole.

Seokmin was standing before him, dressed in a similar-style woolen trench coat that his hands were stuffed into, the sun turning certain threads of his chocolate brown hair all shimmery. He hadn’t gotten back to Seokmin’s numerous texts ever since Wonwoo sent a brief, very purposefully vague message to the boy that night he ran out with you at the dinner party.

Now he was wondering if the shoulder bump was intentional.

“Wonwoo… uh, hey,” Seokmin stumbled.

Sniffling, Wonwoo let a second or two pass before answering.

He was still debating whether or not to walk away.

“What’s up?”

“You just get out of class, or?”

Wonwoo nodded. “Yeah—advanced stats.”

Seokmin flitted a barely-there smile, staring at his coffee cup.

“Is that the free stuff from SRX?”

“Indeed.”

“How does it taste?”

“Uh, watery… like shit, basically.”

Wonwoo knew—he fucking knew—that there was something buzzing on the tip of Seokmin’s tongue that he just couldn’t spit out. His absentminded expression and clear not-giving-a-damness about whether Wonwoo’s free coffee was actually good completely betrayed him. Not wanting to dawdle and get stuck in the mud of conversation, Wonwoo swallowed the lump in his throat, flashed his friend a tight-lipped smile, and pitched a goodbye, blandly wording it as, “I won’t keep you. Later.”

But Seokmin didn’t seem prepared to let that happen.

And Wonwoo’s eyes nearly rolled backward into his skull when the boy turned around and attempted to catch his attention again.

For some stupid, incomprehensible reason, Wonwoo stopped.

Maybe he knew the conversation needed to happen.

It only made him loathe the situation more.

“Yeah?”

Seokmin dragged a hand through his hair, brushing it up and down against the back of his head while he squinted at Wonwoo.

“I think… uh… if you’re not busy… I think there’s maybe some stuff we need to talk about. I don’t mean to like, catch you at a bad time or anything… do you wanna go sit at the picnic table over there?”

At Seokmin’s carefully suggested inquiry, Wonwoo followed the boy’s pointing finger toward the empty table placed on the large grass circle that the walkway wove around. With his grip hardening into the coffee cup, Wonwoo stopped to think despite knowing his answer.

“Okay… yeah.”

Wonwoo realized it had never felt this weird and stilted to sit down with Seokmin despite him being quite a reliable friend over the months, though Wonwoo was developing the sneaking feeling that his study buddy was about to deal an irreparable blow to their relationship. Seokmin’s folded hands were sitting atop the flecked, aged wood of the table, thumbs nervously twiddling, meanwhile Wonwoo remained silent to sip from his coffee that only became more and more tasteless.

Eventually, his friend seemed to find the words he needed.

“So, I don’t know if you’ve heard… but… Her and Mingyu are taking a break. They’re officially pressing the big pause button. I wasn’t there to witness the conversation, although I get the gist it was a pretty… uh, unpleasant talk,” Seokmin winced, bracing his teeth, “and… well, naturally, I learned that you were a big part of that talk, seeing how it looked and all—you and Her running out at the dinner party…”

He left what seemed like a purposeful pause, and Wonwoo assumed that he was supposed to feel pressured and jump to make a correction or provide an explanation, but he kept silent and rather expressionless. Ironically, Seokmin was the one to continue his spiel.

“Well, basically, there were some accusations thrown around as you can imagine. And I’m not sitting here to point a finger and question you to death about everything, but I just thought I’d give you the table—uh, literally—to explain what’s been happening.”

Wonwoo finally set aside his drink, then shifting off the strap to his computer bag, letting it fall down his shoulder. He didn’t make a huge, overwhelmed sigh even though his body was screaming for it, nor did he ponder abandoning the conversation despite the magnitude of everything Seokmin laid out for him.

Fuck—he hated being matured.

“I can’t speak on her feelings. But I like her.”

“Oh—you do?” Seokmin was astonishingly surprised.

Wonwoo shrugged. “Yeah.”

“So, then, does that mean—”

“Actually, sorry, I’m downplaying it like a coward,” Wonwoo interrupted, shaking his head, “I don’t just like her. I’m in love with her.”

It was then that Seokmin simply didn’t speak at all. His mouth had formed a hollowed shape, resembling something like a gulping fish, and Wonwoo capitalized on the silence to keep his thoughts fluent.

“I understand, okay? I understand why Mingyu is pissed. It takes two to tango, I get all that. And I know you probably want me to state my regret and all that so I don’t seem like such an asshole, but, honestly, I don’t really regret anything. Mingyu doesn’t care about her.”

Seokmin chuffed, rubbing at his chin. “Okay… I don’t know if I would go as far as to say that in particular. But you are admitting to it? I don’t know what it is you’ve done but you’ve done things with Her.”

“We’ve never had sex if that’s what you’re asking.”

“And—”

“We’ve never kissed, either… the only thing I was supposed to do was help her write that little love story. Which you set up, by the way. I didn’t know it would turn into this. I tried to get out of it.”

“I never thought she would stick it out.”

“I know.” Wonwoo sucked in his bottom lip, staring across the weathered wood at Seokmin. “You probably wanted her to drop it the second she mentioned it. I bet Mingyu thought the same.”

Seokmin scrunched up his face in disagreement. “That’s not necessarily true. She just fixates on stuff and then burns out after. She's always been like that, ever since I've known her. I figured the book would be no different. I thought it was something she needed to get out of her system, I didn’t think it would start rolling and—” he leaned forward into his palms for a moment, swallowing audibly. “Sorry, I just—I don’t get it, that’s all. I don’t get her fixations.”

“I think you’re just uncomfortable with her self-expression.”

“She—it’s not self-expression, though. Look, I know a pinch of what her story is about. It’s not about herself. It’s about Mingyu.”

“You think that just because she’s writing about someone else, there’s no pieces of herself in it? Her own feelings? Her own perspective? C’mon, Seokmin. You’re fucking smarter than that. You know what it's actually about.”

His friend’s eyes drifted away from him.  

Wonwoo then cleared his throat. “Look, you don’t really need all the details, Seokmin. Like I said, I don’t know exactly how she feels about me. I can surmise. I can say we’ve had moments that we shouldn’t. But—genuinely—you probably know more than I do and you’re lying to yourself if you can’t realize that Mingyu is just some advantageous prick who makes her miserable.”

“Well, I think that—I don’t know if it’s really—”

“He walked into an opportunity with her and he knew it. His whole fucking life and career was basically set up for him the second he met her family. He’s beyond lucky Her ever looked his way.”

“Jeez, Wonwoo. Honestly, it’s not like that.”

“How is it not?”

Seokmin ran a hand through his hair, appearing flustered and without a tongue to make sense. “Just—okay—I’ve been around them a lot. I know how it seems from an outsider’s view. They can argue and push buttons. Their relationship isn’t perfect, but whose is? Mingyu didn’t just walk into the family asking for this and that—he’s never asked for anything, no handouts. Everything that’s been ‘set up’ for him was because Her’s family wanted it. They know he’s a good guy.”

The scoff shot from Wonwoo’s mouth like an arrow. “I’m sorry but, what do they want for Her? Were we at the same dinner party? Did you see her nearly burst into tears? She has to live life in this rigid box, trying to conform to everyone else around her. Don’t you think she wants to live her own life? Be her own person?”

“Of course, but—”

“No—why is there even a ‘but’?”

“I don’t think you understand. Her has everything she needs.”

“You mean, what everyone thinks she needs.” Wonwoo tossed his hand up in the air, laughing, while also getting the strong impulse to ring out his friend’s neck. “It doesn’t make any sense to me. How can you be so close to her, but you don’t realize how unhappy she is? You know what I think? You’re part of it, Seokmin. You're always in her business, hovering, watching, sewing seeds of doubt, shooting down her interests—and you disguise it as help. No one in that house listens to her. They’ve told her who she should be instead of letting her figure it out for herself. How can you be so complicit in that? She gets no support from any of you, about the decisions in her life that actually matter. And Mingyu—honestly, he can go fuck himself. He’s just as complicit as you. He’s soul-sucking.”

“God—sh-she’s an adult.” Seokmin was exasperated, his cheeks reddening like two ripe apples. “She doesn’t have to visit her parents. She doesn’t have to date Mingyu. Nothing is forced on her. No one is dragging her there. I help because I know what she's capable of. I know the perfect life she can have. Her parents know, too. But she just gets sidetracked! She gets wrapped up in stuff that doesn't matter! If she hates everything, she can easily walk away.”

“But you guys have made that so impossible for her.”

“How?”

Wonwoo proceeded to clench his fist up so tight he thought his skin might bleed, the edge of his knuckles pressing down on the table.

“She doesn’t know who the fuck she is.”

Seokmin instantly paled. He looked whiter than a snowflake.

“That’s like clipping a bird’s wings and then asking why it can’t fly away. Knowing who you are is such a big part of life. It’s arguably the foundation. What the fuck do you want her to do? I don’t even—I honestly don’t even want to look at you, Seokmin. Let Mingyu beat me up if he wants to—let it happen a thousand times—” slinging the computer bag back over his shoulder, Wonwoo was rising from the picnic table while glaring down at the stiff, empty-faced Seokmin, who had suddenly morphed from a friend to a bitter stranger, “—I don’t care what he thinks. It’s not going to change how I feel about her, or make me stay away. I’ve seen who she can be and what she actually wants from life, and it's not some snotty, vapid, copy-and-paste hell that her parents are forcing on her. But neither of you seem to give a shit. You’re both completely undeserving.”

Stepping away from the bench, Wonwoo tensed his jaw as the sunlight splashed over him, breaking in between the skeletal trees and their resilient orange leaves. “Got everything you wanted to know? Go run it back to Mingyu. I’m sure that’s what you were gonna do anyway.”

The anger in his chest felt like it was going to crawl out from his mouth and squeeze Seokmin into a ball, therefore Wonwoo exercised his breathing while on a strict path back down the walkway.

Abandoning Seokmin did hurt him more than he had thought, knowing he just lost a friend from his already very limited circle, someone whom he clicked with so readily. At the same time, however, there was a lightness about it. As Wonwoo’s frustration seeped out during the walk back to his apartment, some of the weight pressed into his shoulders released itself like water evaporating from a blacktop.

He just wished he could be at your side more than anything.

There was obviously a reason for your silence.

[ Wonwoo | 11:28 am ]: I heard about the break.

[ Wonwoo | 11:28 am ]: I’m here if you need anything at all.

…

[ Her | 4:05 pm ]: you talked to seokmin?

[ Wonwoo | 4:07 pm ]: Yeah. Never again.

[ Her | 4:07 pm ]: mingyu is so mad

[ Wonwoo | 4:07 pm ]: I figure.

[ Her | 4:08 pm ]: please avoid him if you can. i’m worried

[ Wonwoo | 4:08 pm ]: I’m not.

[ Her | 4:08 pm ]: wonwoo he’s seriously pissed

[ Her | 4:08 pm ]: can’t you hang out with vernon some more

[ Wonwoo | 4:09 pm ]: Seriously?

[ Her | 4:09 pm ]: yes

[ Her | 4:09 pm ]: mingyu got into trouble with dots and had a real big scare. so he doesn’t like to mess much with him or his friends. he'll showboat but that's about it

[ Her | 4:09 pm ]: well ik dots died but u get the point

[ Wonwoo | 4:10 pm ]: Fair.

[ Wonwoo | 4:10 pm ]: But I can’t just pull Vernon around as my Mingyu repellent lol. Honestly, if he wants to rock me, idc.

[ Her | 4:10 pm ]: well I do care

[ Her | 4:10 pm ]: ugh

[ Her | 4:11 pm ]: life has been sucking so hard lately

[ Wonwoo | 4:11 pm ]: I want to come see you.

[ Her | 4:11 pm ]: I want that too. but I need more time, k?

[ Wonwoo | 4:12 pm ]: I know.

[ Wonwoo | 4:12 pm ]: Here if you need me.

—OCTOBER 18TH.

For the past two weeks, Wonwoo had been walking around with the looming possibility of getting jumped by your six-foot tall, rather muscley boyfriend, and he was thus very relieved to have made it this far without eating a fist to the face. Well, now Mingyu was an ex.

Maybe.

The pause in your relationship read like a gray area that Wonwoo had been treading the thinnest eggshells on, prompting him to wait and hear the truth from you directly whenever you felt steady enough to tell him. He wondered if today might be that day.

Placing another strawberry onto the cutting board, Wonwoo chopped his knife through the leafy green bit, removing the stem. The cleaned-up strawberry was then dropped into a bowl of fresh ones that you had been picking away at for the past few minutes or so.

Wonwoo smiled while grabbing another berry to cut.

“I feel like this bowl hasn’t gotten any fuller, for some reason.”

Your legs were swinging as you sat atop the small kitchen island while looking down at his every movement with the knife. Once he  dropped another cut strawberry into the bowl, you scooped it out.

“Just making sure they don’t go bad,” you responded, shrugging.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “The fruit you buy usually goes bad within the minute? Are you getting into a fist fight with it?”

You poked at his hip with your socked foot. “Well, you said you were cutting it for me. So can I eat it or not? I’m getting mixed signals.”

“No, of course you can eat it. I’m just teasing.”

“I don’t do too well with delayed gratification.”

Wonwoo smiled at you, proceeding to remove the last few strawberries from the basket to cleanly dissect their stems. He then turned around, tossing the cutting board and knife into the stainless-steel sink with a clatter. After washing his hands, he was back at the island, noticing that the bowl was now seated in your lap like a bag of movie theatre popcorn with just the perfect amount of butter and salt. For a moment, Wonwoo didn’t say anything—that focused look to your face as you ate the fruit he prepared was much too captivating. He wanted to catch one of your swinging legs, pull you right to the counter’s very edge and have you wrap yourself around him. He wanted everything with you.

In your earlier days together, Wonwoo used to be a lot more evasive about his staring (at least, that’s what he wanted to believe), but now he didn’t feel as required to be so painfully subtle and imperceptible about things. He let you snack until you were satisfied, the empty bowl then being exchanged with a damp rag to clean your fingers.

“So,” clearing his throat, Wonwoo braced his hands against the granite island and glanced at you from behind his glasses, scanning down the unbothered, relatively straight face you had, “everything going okay?”

Pressing your lips together, you nodded, making only an “mhm” sound that didn’t leave much to be interpreted.

Wonwoo saw the hands that plunged swiftly between your thighs, how you were quick to squeeze around them, like there existed something weighted and hidden.

He wanted to leave it up to your discretion—he really did.

“Okay, that’s good… just—uh, he’s not giving you a hard time, right? He’s not bothering you at all?” Wonwoo asked, adjusting the rim of the black beanie he’d thrown on to keep his messy hair tucked back. “I don’t mean to disinter anything. I’m only asking because I—”

“Because you care,” you finished his sentence quietly with a trusting and faint smile, “I know. Thank you. It is hard for me, though… I don’t know why this particular thing is so hard but it is.”

Wonwoo slid his hands together, moving them slow along the cold granite. “No… that’s understandable. I get it plenty.” Hell—he didn’t just get it—Wonwoo had miserably and insufferably lived it for damn near a year at that point. In fact, tomorrow would mark the day that he came home to this same apartment only to discover the interior stripped of all the traces, sentiments, and artifacts that breathed miraculous life into the girl he once thought to be his other half.

A whole fucking year without Jeanie.

How flipped things were. How oddly coincidental that he was now in the same space but with a new person to create everlasting memories. You had the most opposite personality and spark.

Wonwoo sighed. He got close to you, settling his hand atop your knee before gliding it underneath your thigh, gripping at you firmly and pulling you forward until he was bracketed in between your legs. Your response was smitten, and he couldn’t deny that he loved to practically see your heart beating under your chest in addition to sensing the warmth that flourished off your skin like you were sizzling in a pan.

Wonwoo set one hand down on the counter, right next to your hip, while the other tended to the side of your face, his fingers running behind your ear and down the slender path to your silk-smooth neck.

“Look…” he breathed out, finding your eyes that were now a bit watery and tinged with stinging emotion, “I know it’s hard. And I would never rush you into figuring things out… but I like you…” Wonwoo swallowed, letting his thumb play with your earring meanwhile his deep voice triggered the sharp, raised hairs spreading down your arms like an electric current, “I love spending time with you—even just being in the same room as you, getting to stare at you—but I just—when I don’t know what you are to Mingyu, I don’t know what to do with us.”

You drew in an immediate breath, then releasing a quiet laugh mixed with a runny sniffle. “I-It seems like you know…”

He pushed both his hands into the countertop, smiling at you.

“Well, I know what I want to do…” Wonwoo murmured, gazing so intimately into your eyes as the oceans he urged to drown in, “but you have to understand my reservations about it. That’s all.”

Bringing a pinky finger to your mouth to nibble on, you nodded.

Softly, he pinched the bare expanse of your waist. You gasped.

“Because I do, in fact, want you.”

You didn’t say anything, although Wonwoo noted that you were staring back into his gaze with so many hues of simple human emotion pulsating behind your eyes—there was frustration, possibly at yourself and everything you couldn’t yet communicate, and twinkles of impulse that matched rhythm with your heart. Then, employing unforeseen abruptness, your fingers were running down the back of his neck all ticklish and he felt the warmth from your breath feather his lips as you moved in closer, smirking at him, hazy like a sunrise pouring its light through a thick cover of morning fog.

“If you can be patient for just a little longer, you'll have all of me.”

Thankfully (or maybe not so thankfully judging from the pure adrenaline coursing through his veins in a hedonistic, addictive sort of way) there were a few knocks at his door.

Your eyes rolled. “Is that your landlord or something?”

Wonwoo took a step back, letting you slide off the countertop while he adjusted his glasses and brushed down his t-shirt. How were you suddenly so casual? One second you were chewing nervously on your finger with the timidness of a newborn doe and the next—back to your typical self. He watched you approach the door, tilting his head.

“Uh, maybe? She usually texts me, though.”

“Or Seokmin with a batch of chocolate apology brownies.”

He chuckled, folding his arms. “Doubt it.”

Really, Wonwoo had no idea who it could be. It possibly was his landlord who had perhaps forgotten her usual warning text, or maybe his younger, sometimes irresponsible neighbour across the hall who would specifically ask to borrow his scent-free laundry detergent every now and then. As long as it wasn’t Lady Liberty on the other side (in Vernon’s tried and true nicknaming spirit) then Wonwoo had no reason to care.

“Welp,” you made a balmy, popping sound with your lips, “only one way to find out. I think I can smell the chocolate.” But once the door was pulled open, that little joking smile fell from your face concerningly fast, as though someone had plucked it right off.

Fuck—Wonwoo thought right off the cuff—it was Lady Liberty.

Your head quirked ever so slightly. “Uh, hello…”

Whoever the person was, they were just outside the threshold of what Wonwoo could see from his spot in the kitchen—except, now he didn’t think it was Mingyu at all, since your tone seemed more confused than anything else.

For a moment, Wonwoo just stood where he was, not particularly understanding why he couldn’t even twitch a measly finger.

“Hi—I’m sorry, is this the—is this—does Wonwoo still live here?”

From across the room, you shifted him a glance.

There was a heavy pause before you answered.

“… Yeah.”

“O-Oh, well… um… I’m so sorry, but are you living here as well? Is he home? I don’t mean to bother or anything. I guess I came by on a whim. It’s a little hard to explain… I can always come back later.”

At that point, Wonwoo was making his way beside you.

That voice—that delicate wispy voice, lighter than a tuft of cotton adrift through the breeze under a salt blue sky—there was such a familiarity about it that he was getting dizzier by the second. Your jaw was distinctly clenched as Wonwoo stopped at your side.

He took one look into the hallway and damn near fainted.

“What the fuck…” Wonwoo whispered, his mouth suddenly stark of moisture as he lifted a hand to grab the door’s edge, “Jeanie?”

“Uh, hey, Wonwoo.”

Wait—never mind, never mind—he panicked. Maybe he did want it to be Mingyu. In fact, Wonwoo would have anticipated Bohyuk showing up outside his door, or his parents, or his girlfriend of two weeks back in sixth grade who broke up with him over a juice box before he could guess that his ex who disappeared without a trace would be there.

It sounded borderline insane, but Wonwoo almost wanted to poke her just to test if she was even real. She looked real. She sounded real. You didn’t seem to be staring into empty space while side-eyeing him worriedly, rather you had very much acknowledged her. Wonwoo’s grip fastened to the door, then realizing he was using it as a personal crutch to keep him upright as his legs slowly regained their rigidity and strength. He also realized that you likely had no idea who she was until her name had been distantly tugged from his lips by his instincts.

Jeanie splayed out her hands in a demonstration of submission.

“If it’s a bad time, I can come back later…”

Wonwoo noted that you had taken a step away from the door, although you continued to stare at Jeanie with a countenance that refused to spoil much—it seemed inquisitive and curious but still hardened—the moment was probably overwhelming you, too.

He gulped dryly, flicking his eyes back to her. “Uh, well, I wasn’t even—you’re like, the last person I would expect to see and—”

“It’s okay. I’ll leave.”

Jerking back to you, Wonwoo nearly gave himself whiplash.

“Her—you don’t need to—”

But you shook your head.

Grabbing the cream purse off the couch and slipping back into your comfortable, clean white tennis shoes, you seemed eager to go while simultaneously jaded at the circumstances.

“No, don’t worry about it,” you stopped in front of Wonwoo, adjusting the strap wove around your shoulder, “this seems important, so… I don’t want to stand in the way of anything… I’ll see you later, ‘kay?”

Then, you turned to Jeanie, sticking out your hand. “Nice to meet you.”

She looked to Wonwoo for a split second.

“Um, yeah, you as well…” Jeanie eventually accepted the handshake, sounding breathy with nerves, “sorry about all this.”

While making your way to the staircase, Wonwoo quickly stepped into the corridor and waved at you, feeling his chest tighten.

“I’ll call you, okay?”

You flashed a transient smile. He hated watching you leave.

Jeanie was watching you, too, hands politely folded at her abdomen, bunny rabbit teeth digging at the skin of her ruby-stained and calloused lips. She had always been a chronic lip-biter—anxiety, thrill, or stress, Wonwoo vividly remembered the blisters she absentmindedly inflicted unto herself from the bad habit, similar to the scars marking the cuticle of his thumb. After a year Jeanie looked different no doubt, but she also reflected an unchanged image through her conserved, fidgety behaviours. She was shy like a budding flower kept just short of the sun.

“Are you okay if I come in?” Jeanie mumbled, hardly able to maintain eye contact with Wonwoo for no more than a second or two.

He stepped back, beckoning indoors.

“Yeah… that’s fine, I guess.”

“Looks pretty nice in here…” she remarked soft-spokenly, taking a moment to marvel the space she once came home to every day, although she couldn’t seem more like a stranger to the apartment even if she tried—like a magazine cutout slapped onto a novel.

Wonwoo rubbed under his nose. “Well… I make due.”

Her hair used to be a symmetric, blunt length with her chin, but she had clearly grown it out over the months. The black tresses thrived in long and loose ribbons down her back, shinier than sea glass polished by rough waves. She was never one to wear much makeup either—trimming her eyebrows, glossing her lips, and flicking on some mascara was all she really ever cared to do, and Wonwoo remembered being in love with her simplicity.

Jeanie proceeded to walk behind the couch, squeezing the back in her hands. She was so tiny. That hadn’t changed much. He could only stand in one place, keeping still, examining her every movement and fighting against the trillions of voices clawing to his mind’s surface.

“Feels strange to be in here,” she laughed, running her fingers along the couch’s fabric, staring around the space, “I think it definitely has more of your touch now… it was nice to see Saskia again, too.”

“Yeah.”

She stopped on him. “You look well. Healthy.”

Wonwoo squinted at her. “Why are you here?”

He didn’t say it in a rude, impatient way. Genuinely, Wonwoo wasn’t angry with her, not like he might have been a few months ago.

But he was confused and feeling increasingly anxious. You were gone, probably on your way back home, though Wonwoo wished you hadn’t left at all, even if it were to make things sticky and awkward. Your presence in a room was the comfort he badly, painfully missed.

“Sure,” Jeanie cleared her throat, “I’ll explain. Care to sit?”

Together, they nestled onto the couch.

Wonwoo was kept to one end while Jeanie sat more in the middle, pulling at the long, flowy hem of her fern-patterned blue dress.

He tugged at the rim to his beanie, waiting for her to speak.

The girl gripped onto her knees, poised a soft, gentle look in his direction while taking in a breath. Their nerves seemed to be coalescing like different colours bleeding from freshly soaked paintbrushes. If anxiety were personified into butterflies, the room would start fluttering.

“I guess I thought it was time. Taking a shot in the dark, I know. I didn’t know if you would still be here, but I got lucky…” she clutched at her dress, fingers pulling into the airy material. “Wonwoo, it’s not like I don’t think about you, or wonder about you. I know what I did, how much it hurt… then I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to come back to here, with you. But I processed it all and it became an itch I had to scratch.”

Puffing out through his nose, Wonwoo almost laughed.

“Yeah—you wanted to see if I, what? Threw myself off the building or persevered, becoming some big money writer?”

Jeanie blinked at him a few times, furrowing her neat, straight brow, with every hair gelled down perfectly in place.

Wonwoo shook his head, lifting out his hand.

“Okay, my bad. That sounded like such an asshole thing to say.”

“No, it’s okay. I get it.” Her cheeks flooded with a tide of rosy pink as she chuckled. “I-I just… well, you seem different now.”

He pushed up his glasses. “You think?”

“Yeah.”

“In a good or bad way?”

Jeanie clasped her hands together, thumbs tapping.

“Well, I guess you seem more... upfront, not as prevaricating. Maybe that’s how you’ve always been and I just never really saw it or you picked it up from someone else.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Probably a bit of both.”

“I am sorry. I know it was all so… sudden. I know this is sudden. I thought about calling... my hands would just shake so much whenever I picked up the phone, getting all sweaty and stuff. It felt like something that I had to just do. And, well, once I was back in the area, I didn’t even want to lend myself time to dwell. I only came in yesterday.”

“You went back home, then?”

“I did.”

“I figured… well, I got the hint pretty clear when your mom sent me that email. It was only a sentence or two long, but it hurt like hell.”

“It’s what I asked her to send. It’s all I felt you needed to know.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

Jeanie sighed, “I feel warranted in what I did… even so, I-I think I owe you an apology. Because, well, you were and still are someone I regard highly. You were going through something pretty serious… I mean, it’s obvious you’re taking such better care of yourself.”

 “It definitely hasn’t been linear.”

Tucking some hair behind her ear, the girl smiled. “Well, what in life really is? It only feels that way when you’re going straight down.”

He hmphed, thinking. “… Yeah. Really though, don’t worry about it. An apology isn’t necessary. You’ve always been too gracious.”

“I-I guess… but, I think it is, since—”

“Jeanie, c’mon. It’s really not. I was dragging you down.”

“Wonwoo, I feel like—”

“I’m telling you—”

“Well, I’m telling you and it would mean a lot if you just let me speak and get this off my chest. Please. Then you can have the floor. Tell me to package it all back up. Whatever it is you have to say. But I spent our entire relationship just listening and trying to understand you and interpret all your vague signals when I should have been trying to understand myself, and what I wanted. I’m not the verbose type, I know that. Going off on longwinded tangents about my feelings has never been something that suits me but I’m here now and I owe it to the girl who just sucked it all up, all the time, trying to be this perfect girlfriend for you.”

He managed a long, introspective breath.

Fuck—he really did owe her that. He owed her so much more.

“… Okay,” Wonwoo nodded complicity, “you’re right.”

“Leaving was the very last thing I wanted. I swear it. I agonized over the choice every day. But you didn’t even notice. That’s when I knew it was more than bad, and whatever it was you were going through was just pulling you down so deep, like a whirlpool. It’s like… I would talk to you, and there was no one inside. When I felt like you needed space, I gave you space. When I felt like you had something hard to say, I would sit with you all day, trying to ease it out, waiting for you to say it.

When you seemed so angry at yourself and everything around you—I-I don’t know—I tried to be the best thing for you. But I was hitting wall after wall. Sometimes I wonder how much of it was my fault. If I had just been upfront about my feelings then maybe things would have been… well, you know, different. I guess I never did say much because it seemed like the last thing you needed to hear, like I would be adding to your already massive collection of burdens. You have to understand, I felt trapped, Wonwoo. Like I was in a glass box or something.

I was decaying from the inside out. If I didn’t leave, if I didn’t make that split second decision to phone up my mom and tell her everything that morning you left for work—then maybe we would have gotten even worse. Maybe we would have just drowned. I don’t know. I’m… glad, relieved, happier than ever, that I don’t know what might have happened. And now that it seems we’re both… whole… I feel like an apology is just a way for me to say that if I had the steel to speak for the both of us, maybe we could have spared so much pain in between.”

Jeanie’s doe eyes twinkled with tears. “I thought that being apart might heal us both… I-I did it ‘cause—in essence—I did it because I cared, Wonwoo. About you. So deeply. But I also needed to start caring about myself, too.”

The corners of his mouth flitted in an unbridled smile toward the girl, his gaze admiring how the evening sunlight warmed up her cool-toned skin and shimmered through her strong, healthy hair.

“I know,” Wonwoo finally answered. “I’ve known for a while.”

Jeanie stayed for about an hour longer, until the sky started darkening. Together, they filled each other in on the breakages in each other’s distant lives, like a spider reweaving a gash through its cobweb. He was pleased to learn that she was doing quite well for herself—now moved out from her family house and living with her younger sister, Jeanie held true to pursuing her ambition of managing the library she had always adored coming to during her childhood (he remembered it specifically as “the one with the bean bag corner and the giant toy crate with the giraffe.”)

Wonwoo felt he didn’t have much to say regarding himself, however, he had plenty to say about you.

Rubbing at a strand of her hair, Jeanie nodded. “Yeah, I remember Her. She—like—she did scare me a bit… I don’t know—she really seemed to know what she was doing. I was a little envious of that. And she had really great style. She could pull anything off. She came in looking for a textbook one time, but I made my co-worker help her instead. I think I was too nervous to talk to her.”

Wonwoo had his legs stretched out onto the coffee table, hands settled on his stomach. Itching at his eyebrow, he smiled. “I probably would have done the same, back then. Honestly though, she’s nothing like what she seems. I can promise you that.”

Jeanie was quiet for a moment, adjusting the legs tucked up underneath herself. “So… you two are… you’re dating?”

“No… it’s weird. I wish.”

“I recognized her when she opened the door. I was pretty confused since… of all the people that you could have over… she seemed like the most unlikely candidate. I-I mean, I’m not saying that you could never—I’m not saying that it could never happen—”

He tilted his head at Jeanie, grinning slyly. “No, just say it. You didn’t imagine I’d ever even be able to talk to someone like her.”

The girl’s face flushed. “Well, you’re quite the opposites.”

“In some ways.”

“I don’t think she’d like me.”

Wonwoo pursed his lip in disagreement. “That’s not true. To be fair, you’ve ever only got to see one side of her. She’s trying to figure shit out just as much as we are. You never really stop, I suppose.”

He felt Jeanie’s gaze still on him for a few seconds, her mouth twitching into a delicate, sincere smile made brighter by her eyes. “So… you figure she’d like me? Even if she knew all the details about us? How rough it all was?”

Wonwoo crossed his arms, staring back toward her confidently. “I figure she’d probably like you more than me, actually.”

8:28 pm

“Hey, thanks for picking up.”

“Oh, no big deal. You called me at a good time. I was just about to start my skincare and I would have needed to sit for fifteen minutes doing absolutely nothing in a slimy face mask.” 

“Sounds fun.”

“I’m guessing your conversation is over and done with.”

“Yeah. She only left like, five minutes ago.”

“And you didn’t want to sit alone in your bedroom contemplating the universe for an additional hour with all the blinds drawn? Woah. Wonwoo, I am impressed. Finger snaps.”

“Finger snaps.”

“So… am I allowed to know how the whole thing went or did you just call me to hear the sound of my voice?”

“Both. But mostly to hear your voice.”

“Okay. Enlighten me then.”

9:45 pm

“Anyway… yeah. The conversation went well. I still can’t believe she actually came back to see me. Like, what a mindfuck, you know?”

“That took a lot of courage from her part.”

“Yeah, it did. Makes me proud, though. To hear her actually speak her mind. She really was just trying to be the best possible person for me and the only thing that got her is heartbreak. She’s putting herself first, now. She’s spending a couple days in the city with her sister.”

“… Do you think that you’ll want to see her again?”

“I don’t know. Do I need to?”

“Do you?”

“No. I mean, don’t get me wrong, as much as it was a shock to see her again, there was great closure in it. If she had come to see me way sooner, no way would I have been open to it—I probably would have freaked the fuck out and had an anxiety attack or some shit—but I feel way better about everything now. I felt like I understood her choices, kinda like I was the one making them... but, you know, we’re evolved people at this point. We’ve veered onto two separate paths, neither one being greater than or less than the other… just different.”

“Right.”

“We just wished each other well.”

“No, that’s great. You put a bow on it. I just didn’t really know what the whole thing was gonna entail… so, yeah, I had gotten kinda worried… like—once I knew it was her—I thought she looked so perfect for you. You two just made immediate sense in my mind. She’s got such a sweet voice, and the kind, shy personality that everyone always adores. I think if you stuck her in a room with me, she’d hate my guts.”

“Ha—Jeanie hates no one’s guts. She’s got no room in her heart for that kind of stuff. You two are different for sure, but I think that’s what would make you interesting and attractive to each other.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If it makes you feel any better, she didn’t think you’d like her either. But I told her you’d probably like her more than me.”

“What! She actually thought that? I mean, maybe I seemed a little damp when I left, but that was just my mind on overdrive.”

“Need me to arrange a date between you two?”

“Ha—she did have a great perfume on. Maybe ask about that.”

“Well, I will if I see her.”

“She doesn’t know about the book you were writing for her, does she? I can’t believe that’s been sitting on your laptop all this time.”

“No, she doesn’t. I used to sit there and stare at it every day, but I don’t think I’ve even opened the damn document in months… since I met you, my mind has gradually moved away from it, I guess. I think now it’s more of an effort thing. All the time I put into it. It’s like, if I delete it, I’m deleting that time from my life… does that even make sense?”

“Yeah, I know what you’re saying.”

“… Did you ever finish your book for Mingyu? I know you wanted it done before your anniversary in December. It seemed like you were on track to have it done quite early, with all that time you gave yourself.”

“I did finish it, actually.”

“No fucking way—that’s a big accomplishment.”

“Yeah. Now I’ve just gotta decide what to do with it.”

—NOVEMBER 3RD.

Wonwoo was fairly surprised that Princess had invited him to her birthday dinner at Terra Cotta. At one point, he wasn’t certain where he stood with your closest friend, even if his relationship with her presented itself as amicable on the surface—he always thought that maybe deep down, Princess really did despise him. Then Wonwoo wondered if you had nipped at the birthday girl into inviting him, although that didn’t seem like something in your character.

Through all his fretting, thumb-scraping, and late-night pondering in the shower, Wonwoo eventually came to the conclusion that was probably the simplest and most accurate: Princess just liked him.

A call from Vernon came through right as Wonwoo was getting into bed last week, to which the rambling boy had impetuously thrown out, “yeah, I got an invite to Her’s best friend’s birthday dinner or somethin’ like that—what was her name again? Penelope? The sexy dark skin girl with the braids? Anyway, I told her I’d love to go, but I’m gonna be out of town for a few days in November. Said I could hook her up with a couple MDMA bombs, though. Y’know, as a gift.”

Thus, that concluded the story of Wonwoo having to sit at a rather large and reserved candlelit table in an expensive, esteemed restaurant, surrounded by some friends and strangers alike, with a plastic baggie of hard drugs shoved into his pants pocket that he couldn’t stop worrying about. Vernon had wanted him to leave it with Princess when appropriate. Most people invited were going to the club later in the night—Room 319—which he figured could only be survived by going buckwild off ecstasy. As his knee continued to ricochet underneath the tablecloth, Wonwoo was soothed by your hand sliding over his thigh.

You gave him a solicitous glance, smiling with care. “Why don’t I just put it in my purse?” The offer was whispered amongst the conversation.

Wonwoo couldn’t help but flit his eyes around the table, ensuring no one was giving his general direction a lick of attention. The waiters and waitresses would pop from the blue every now and then with bottles that seemed glued to their hands, scouring for anyone who needed a top up on alcohol. His glass had been seldom touched for the past half-hour.

He sighed, shaking his head. “No, it’s fine.”

“Wonwoo,” you deadpanned at him.

“It’s fine.”

“Oh my God—just give me it. It’ll take me two seconds to dig it out from your pocket and shove it in my damn purse. Besides, I can’t enjoy myself when the anxiety is emanating off you in waves.”

His knee immediately stopped jerking. Wonwoo looked you straight in the eyes, the stiffness turning him into straw. “Is it really?”

“Yes!” You laughed quietly, your head hunkering down on his shoulder for a brief moment. “Now, give me it please. Pretty please.”

Sliding a hand into the smooth pocket on his pants, Wonwoo began fishing out the small plastic baggie while puffing, “fuck—alright.”

“Gosh,” he heard you mumble while discreetly taking the capsules from him, rustling them into your purse, “you could never be a drug dealer, could you? How are you even friends with Vernon? That dude probably walks around with sample sizes taped to his jacket.”

“It’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo was finally able to roll out his shoulders and relax—even give you a humorous little smirk, “I have a way better chance of escaping the drug dogs than he does. I’ll get a nice head start.”

His thigh was met with a slap before your hand pulled away. “I’m acting like I don’t know either of you.”

To be fair, Wonwoo couldn’t picture his bad-mouthed, fairly uncouth friend in a snotty establishment like Terra Cotta, especially considering his ideal places to eat were twenty-four-hour diners and cereal pantries belonging to girls whom he’d just slept with. The restaurant was no doubt beautiful, though it was definitely for the upper echelons who could not only afford it, but also act the pleasant, opulent guise.

At least the table that Princess reserved was a bit more separated from the other tables in the restaurant—it was close to a waterfall built into the wall, encompassed by all sorts of burnish-looking smooth stones.

Neither Seokmin or Mingyu were at the dinner—two absences that no one seemed to be questioning. To Wonwoo, that was a gigantic relief—he assumed you felt the same. Clara was there, seated further down the table, but Bells wasn’t. Seungcheol was an obvious guest, and besides you, he was the person that Wonwoo had spoken to the most since arriving at the restaurant—he’d even given Wonwoo the slip on his secret gift for his girlfriend, which was a two-week vacation to the Bahamas after the winter exam season.

Wonwoo was a little jealous.

He would love for you and him to vacation somewhere.

Maybe even take you back to South Korea.

“So, you guys,” Princess had started a conversation with you and Wonwoo from across the table, hands folded underneath her chin while she smiled kindly between you, “think you’ll come to the club after?”

You pouted at her, “we’re passing, babe. A million sorries.”

“Awe, that’s okay.” She reached across the pristine tablecloth to lay her hand over top yours. “You already took me out for my birthday, anyway. And let me vomit in your washroom for two hours.”

“Mmhm. You’d do the same for me.”

Princess giggled, her grin luminous and wholly genuine. “Oh, of course. I have already done it!”

“Well, you’ll have to tell me all about Room 319. The stories I’ve heard about that place—sounds like some shit from a movie.”

“Trust me, you’ll get the entire script in a bound book. I know the club thing isn’t for everyone—that’s why I did the dinner. And I’m doing cupcakes instead of cake! Remember those red velvet cupcakes we had that one night? And then that other night? Fuck—I couldn’t stop thinking about those damn things.”

“Oh, those were fucking delicious.”

“De-licious. Have you ever got to try one, Wonwoo?”

He swallowed, a bit jarred to be welcomed into their conversation that he had been happily listening to from the sidelines.

“I tried one. I liked it.”

Princess gasped at him. “Only liked? Be serious!”

“Well, ask me again later tonight. I wasn’t having it fresh.”

“I will be asking. How’s Vernon? I’m sad he couldn’t make it.”

“Oh, he’s fine. Sometimes he just mysteriously disappears from town for a couple days—I don’t ask because I don’t want to know. But, uh, he did leave me with a gift for you… if you didn’t already know.”

“Oh… oh! Right!” Princess straightened up, nodding. “Yeah, I remember. You can give it to me when we leave. Outside.”

“I have it actually,” you clarified, flickering a transient look at the tiny purse you had moved onto the table,  “when we take a girl’s trip to the washroom, you can have it. The dose is pretty high. I know I don’t have to worry about you and this stuff, but be careful, y’know?”

“Of course. Just make sure you hide the purse in your lap when the waiter comes back. They love offering to take bags and satchels and all that stuff to hang in the coat room.” After clearing her throat with a sip from her pink, frothy champagne, Princess curiously poked at you two. “So, how do you guys plan to spend the rest of your night?”

Wonwoo opted not to speak.

You grabbed your wine glass, swirling the aromatic alcohol around inside while shrugging. “Not sure. It’s chilly out. Hope you don’t freeze your tits off standing outside in the mile long line for the club.”

“That’s what this push-up is for. The padding’s so toasty warm.”

Laughing with Princess, you ended up snorting.

Seungcheol, who was sat beside his girlfriend and had been occupied in speaking to a friend Wonwoo forgot the name of, finally parted from his conversation, turning his head at the last second to hear the giggling.

“Push-up? What are you guys talking about?”

You shook your head. “Nothing—just her bra.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol mumbled, “what about her bra?”

Princess smiled. “Just that with all this padding it’s got, it’ll keep me nice and warm when I’m waiting outside. Perfectly insulated.”

Rubbing a thumb and index finger along his jaw, Seungcheol grinned all relaxed-like while Princess rolled her dark brown eyes at his comment, the gold accents in her inner corners glimmering.

“I bet my hands would be a lot more efficient. Nothing warmer than skin on skin as they say.”

She shoved his shoulder half-heartedly. “Who says that? Now, bedroom eyes away before I make you wear a bag over your head.”

“I don’t see a bag here.”

“As the birthday girl, I’m pretty sure I can request one.”

The dinner officially wrapped up around ten at night. Wonwoo was able to reaffirm with Princess that the red velvet cupcakes were indeed moist and delicious. As everyone stood right outside the restaurant in the nippy, cold November weather, giving hugs and farewells to those who weren’t clubbing, he made sure to wish Princess probably the twentieth happy birthday she’d heard that night. He waited for you to give her another speech about staying safe but still having fun, sprinkled with lots of “I love you’s” and inside jokes that Wonwoo wondered if he would ever understand, before you two left on your own.

Each time he spoke, his breath would come to life in a warm wisp from his mouth, meanwhile the streets lights reflected in the melted snow all over the sidewalk he aimlessly wandered down, with you sticking close to his side. It hadn’t been a heavy snow, at least.

“Be honest,” you said, glancing toward Wonwoo, “how relieved are you that we’re not going to the club? On a scale of one to ten.”

“Is ten the most relieved?”

“Yeah.”

He looked at you, completely unabashed. “Ten.”

Kissing your teeth, you nodded. “That’s what I expected.”

“So,” Wonwoo hummed, stopping beside you at the intersection while waiting for the crosswalk light to change, “what now?”

Your eyebrows raised. “Still want to do something?”

As the cars whipped past, throwing up brisk winds and exhaust into the twinkling city atmosphere, Wonwoo shrugged. “The night is young.”

“What's on your mind?”

“We’re not far from Centertown. It’s maybe a fifteen-minute walk or so at this point. There’s a bar there I want to try. The Honeymoon.”

He was glad you didn’t seem opposed.

“Sure. I’m down.”

Once the crosswalk was open and the floods of people started pressing forward, there was somebody who passed them—somebody who almost went completely unnoticed by Wonwoo until his memory reloaded and he suddenly found himself pausing to observe over his shoulder.

You pulled at his sleeve. “What?”

“Uh, nothing,” Wonwoo replied, wetting his dry lips while heeding your polite tug, “the woman that passed us—she’s dressed exactly like this prostitute that Vernon told me he saw last winter, hanging outside Room 319. She has the heels and everything.”

“What the fuck. Really?”

“Mmhm,” he laughed, “he called her Pink Heels Lady. To be honest, I thought he was lying… but I’m pretty sure that was her.”

“Spooky. Coincidence or fate, do you think?”

Wonwoo glanced at you, seeing the intrigued smile on your face.

“I don’t know, actually,” he responded after the question hovered around in his mind for an oddly long second, deciding to pick up your hand in is, “I assume it’s just the universe working its magic.”

Wonwoo was never particularly into bars, although he could tolerate them much more than a club despite their parallels. The seedy lighting, deafening music, and signature throw-up gutter in the street or alleyway right outside the building was crucial to both, he had realized.

The Honeymoon was a newer bar that had garnered some notable buzz. It was less like a pub, being slightly more formal with a touch of modernity that had landed it just below presumptuous, in Wonwoo’s opinion. At least the music wasn’t overbearing, nor was there intoxicated, flush-faced men hollering at sports teams on televisions that would never hear them. You decided to sit at the counter, sliding onto the heightened chairs and leaving your jackets draped over the low backs.

You bristled, shaking out your shoulders. “I’m cold.”

Wonwoo cupped his hands overtop your icy cheeks for a moment, allowing some of his warmth to seep into your skin.

“A drink will fix that right up.”

“How are your hands hotter than mine? You’re always freezing.”

He smiled at you, letting you have your face back. “I can warm them up at will to your benefit.” Wonwoo joked, bumping his knee against yours. “What do you think of the place?”

Your lip pursed as you glanced around, examining the bartenders filling up glasses with their silvery, shiny spouts, and then over your shoulder at the numerous other tables occupied by the city’s strangers. For a frigid November night, it was quite full.

“It’s nice. The lighting is pretty. Reminds me of Alley Cat.”

“Oh, yeah. Vernon took me there once to celebrate my exams being done, then he got into a fist fight with this university student over something I can’t remember—smashed a glass on the dude’s head.”

Predictably, your eyes rolled. “Only Vernon is getting into fist fights at Alley Cat.”

Wonwoo chuckled. “Well, now he can’t get into fist fights there at all—management banned him and the other guy. Apparently, they’ve got this back wall of people who’ve been kicked out and he’s on there.”

“Figures,” you sighed.

“Oh my gosh! Wonwoo? It’s you!”

At the sound of his name being excitedly called, Wonwoo was soon met with the surprised but cheerful expression coloured to Sierra’s freckled face. He hadn’t forgotten that she worked there, but he was clueless about her schedule. She looked very pretty, glowing in a halo almost, with her coarse, reddish-brown hair pulled back slick into a ponytail and a crisp, clean black uniform tailored to fit her perfectly.

Wonwoo grinned. “Hey there. I didn’t know you worked tonight.”

Sierra set one hand onto the lacquered wood counter while the other stuck to her hip. “I don’t usually. Fridays are game nights with my little sister. But there was a call-in. A little extra cash never hurt.” The girl’s big, round eyes then flitted to you. “Her, right? I don’t think we’ve ever met formally. I know you’re one smart cookie, though.”

“I’d like to think so,” you answered, smiling back at Sierra, “you were at the party, weren’t you? The one Seungcheol threw this summer?”

She nodded, “I was. I made a few drinks here and there.”

“I never got to taste one,” you frowned, pouting.

Throwing up her hands, Sierra was quick to exclaim with her typical charisma and sugar sweetness, “what! Preposterous! I think I’m pretty wicked at it. What are you thinking of having?”

“To be honest, I’m not looking for anything too fancy at the moment. In fifteen minutes from now, I won’t be able to promise the same. I’d like to start off with a rum and coke, if that’s alright. For now.”

Sierra grinned. “No, that’s perfect. What about you, Wonwoo?”

He shrugged. “I’ll have the same. For now.”

“Well, for now, I’ll start you guys off with two rum and cokes.”

Leaning his elbows onto the countertop, he threw her a question.

“How’s it going with Carmen?”

While she prepared the drinks, Sierra blossomed into a smile. “Oh, it’s going great. She’s genuinely a blast. We’re going to the movies next week—that horror one is coming out, about the swimming pool—we think it’s gonna suck but that’s what makes it fun.”

Once Sierra slid you the cold glass, you tilted your head at her while fixing your lips around the black straw. “Who’s Carmen?”

“My girlfriend.” Sierra answered. “We met here, actually.”

“Ugh, no way,” you swooned, pressing a cheek into your hand as the next drink was given to Wonwoo, “that’s so fucking adorable. Does she ever tell you how beautiful you look in that all-black uniform?”

Giggling, Sierra wiped down the countertop and flushed. “I’ve heard it many times. It’s honestly just a t-shirt and slacks!”

“Well, you’re making it work.”

“Please—my face is heating up! You’ve got quite the gorgeous dress on yourself, you know. I always wonder where you get all your clothes. Wonwoo, have you complimented her yet, tonight?”

Mixing the ice cubes together to hear the satisfying clinks using his straw, he answered easily. “It was the first thing out of my mouth.”

Sierra nodded in satisfaction. “Good! Well, I won’t hover. But if you need any refills or have any questions, you can try to flag me down—or ask Jamie! She’s just down there. She’s great at martinis. Later!”

Once Sierra had left to busy herself with tending to others waiting service at the counter, you looked to Wonwoo, lips downturned.

“Jeez, she’s so freaking nice. How come I don’t have that kind of natural charm? Not that I’m not charming. But hers is so… magnetic.”

“Everyone’s got their natural quirks.”

“Yeah, well, my natural quirk is that I’m probably going to down this in the next two minutes. And then have three more after that.”

Wonwoo rubbed a hand to your shoulder, smirking into the glass that he raised to his mouth. “Just focus on the one you have now.”

3 more rum and cokes (+ 1 martini) later.

“No, no—but then, it gets even worse! Because not only had she been lying straight to his face the entire time, so was his best friend! They were seeing each other for weeks and weeks—he had no idea. What gave it away though, was the perfume. He was always telling her not to wear heavy perfumes and stuff because it will leave a scent on the sheets, but she messed up—so they freaked it, she spends the night, and then the next day when he’s over, he goes into his friend’s room looking for a charger and smells the perfume on the sheets! He puts it together! And then, and then—”

You paused, picking up the wide-mouthed martini glass to take a sip in the midst of your long-winded and passionate adultery story that Wonwoo had been struggling to follow for the past blurred time interval, the names now completely lost on his ears. There was hardly anything left in your glass, which led to your frustrated grumble, followed by an attempt to flag down the bartender, Jamie.

However, Wonwoo swiftly caught your hand despite his own impaired state, lowering it back to the countertop.

“Okay, I think that’s enough.” He pushed forward the cup of water he requested for you. “The least you can be right now is hydrated.”

Although you weren’t happy about his thwarting, you did yield to the advice and drink some of the water. Wonwoo knew he should probably have some himself after his own splurge on the bar’s pricy concoctions, but he still felt that he was holding up quite well. Before Jamie could whisk by again, he made sure to ask for another cup.

“So, what happened next?” Wonwoo nudged your elbow while you stared off cluelessly, urging you to continue the story.

“What?”

“He smells her perfume on the bedsheets. Now what?”

However, you were suddenly slumping forward, forehead nestled into your hands. For a moment, you stayed like that without word, until Wonwoo couldn’t help his concern and touched at your bare shoulder.

“Not feeling well?”

You shook your head, whining out, “no, no. It’s not that.”

He frowned, scooting to the edge of his chair and securing his arm across your shoulders. His voice was softer and closer against your warm cheek as he attempted to gauge that sour, twisted expression past your concealing hands, wanting to understand your hiding.

“Well, am I allowed to know what’s bothering you?”

Again, you remained silent, biting your lip. There was such tenseness in your body that he could simply feel with just his arm.

Wonwoo leaned back, instead tugging at your wrist. “Can I at least see your face? Please?” You didn’t budge. “Her, you’re worrying me a bit, here. Do you need me take you home—”

“Okay, I have something to tell you.” Breaking abruptly from your husk, you were now staring straight and square at Wonwoo with distinct inebriation cloudy in your eyes, although there was something else too that compelled Wonwoo to bite his tongue and listen. “Honestly, I think I’ve held onto this long enough. And, I’ve wanted to confess this to you for a while now, but there was just so much debris in my life that I needed to sort through first. But you’re beyond important to me, and I just think that it’s time you finally know… so, can I tell you?”

“Um…”

Wonwoo’s throat was suddenly bone-dry and his pulse had spiked to the point where he could feel a vein along his neck start throbbing—he even pondered waving down the bartender for another drink to pacify his growing nerves.  

Ultimately, Wonwoo wouldn’t last that long. Pushing up his glasses, he nodded, noting that you hadn’t blinked once while you waited.

“Sure. Tell me.”

Your upper lip twitched.

“Mingyu’s been cheating on me, for two years.”

Wonwoo was quick to feel all his awareness become dull and drowned. He hardly registered his elbow shifting across the countertop, almost knocking over the glass of water onto the floor, nor did he realize the manner in which his mouth had subtly dropped open. You continued to stare at him with intensity, likely studying every tweak and fidget in his body language before swallowing deeply and choosing to continue the revelation.

He tightened up his jaw, trying to seem firm.

You looked ashamed of yourself as you admitted, “it’s been going on for two years, and I’ve known for about a year.”

“Really?” He answered, sounding mystified. “An entire year?”

“Give or take.”

Then, Wonwoo was shaking his head. His fist had clenched up tight, though it wasn’t the usual automated response that accompanied his anxiety—he found there was immediate distaste and anger swirling together like storm clouds in the pit of his stomach.

Your gaze was cast to the water glass on the countertop, which you moved away for no apparent reason, your expression emptied.

After a frail sigh, you continued, “do you remember that day I came into creative writing and got super upset at that guy for sitting in my seat? Remember how we talked about it at the nature museum, and I told you that I had a fight with Mingyu before going to class?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, that day, I tried bringing it up to him. And it totally didn’t go over how I thought it would. Mingyu denied it all… of course, I only had some vague but suspicious texts to go off of, which he explained his way out of pretty poorly. But I just accepted it for the sake of our relationship. And I never brought it up again until… you know.”

Wonwoo let a natural, stagnant silence fall in between you, meanwhile the encompassing atmosphere was kept flowing by the various conversations of those around you—seemingly happy—with plenty to drink as they kept warm from the bitter cold just outside.

He was biting his tongue, though he couldn’t hold the question any longer, piquing his, “do you know who he was cheating with?”

A huff shot straight through your nose.

“I know…” you mumbled, “and you know her, too.”

Suddenly, a name popped to his mouth without thought.

“Bells.”

When you didn’t confirm nor deny, opting to stare off to the side to conceal the emotion springing forth, Wonwoo knew it was solid truth.

“Fuck…” he cursed, grazing his hand across the smooth leg that was folded over your knee, “I’m so sorry… I’m at a loss for words.”

You could only sigh while a glossy film developed in your eyes.

“I mean, I’ve been through all the stages already—grief, denial, acceptance—whatever the other ones are—so I don’t know why I’m still getting so choked up about it. I obviously didn’t want to believe it… I mean, who the fuck does? Especially when you truly do have feelings for that person.” Shaking your head and sniffling, you exasperatedly flicked out a hand. “Her and her stupid sparkles. That was when I really started putting it together. Oh, I’m going out to play poker, babe! And the next day, I’m wearing his sweater, and I realize there’s these fucking little bits of glitter on it, inside it—it was like a fucking beacon that was just screaming at me—hey! Your asshole boyfriend is cheating!”

That was something Wonwoo had noticed himself, after Bells had bumped into him at the party—the girl’s adoration for sparkly clothing and makeup essentially left behind a glaring trail of glimmery breadcrumbs. Wonwoo had found them on his clothes once he took them off and could really see the fabric underneath the light. The confession suddenly painted your actions that night in a new colour.

Rubbing against your temple, you explained further despite the struggle to speak over that clogged sound coming from your throat.

“It’s not like I’m stupid, either, even if right now, in this situation, I seem like it. I know what Bells is like… she’s spoiled rotten—always has been—and is used to getting whatever the fuck she wants. But, you see, that’s the thing! That’s the fucking thing! Seokmin, Clara, Bells, even Princess—I only met them because of the webs my parents have in their business world. I was never really allowed to find my own friends. It really just shows how much they had a say in my life… don’t misconstrue, I truly do love Princess and she’s by far the most normal, grounded person amongst them. She actually listens, and cares. But I was only allowed to befriend her ‘cause my parents know her parents.

Mingyu seemed like the one person I was actually able to connect with on my own… but he’s honestly changed so much. It’s like, my parents were able to get their little fangs in him and warp him. And now… I really don’t think he loves me at all… I think he loves my image, and what I represent, and the opportunities that come with me… but, I don’t think he actually, genuinely loves me like he used to... like, back then, he was so, so sweet. He was always fumbling over himself, nervous, trying his best. I mean, you've read about it! He used to want to be an architect, Wonwoo. A freaking architect! He sketched all the time. He has a closet drawer full of sketch books from when he was younger. But everything's different now. He doesn't care. He hates when I bring it up! He hates me!

And I don’t just think—I know it, Wonwoo. He resents me, but he won’t let go. Instead, he just sucks the life out of me, like he’s trying to get me to hate myself, too. And I do. I guess, as long as I hate myself, it makes me perfect in their eyes. I’ll just keep letting them mould me until I feel complete.”

Wonwoo didn’t know what to do.

Hell, he didn’t even know what to say except for the fact that you were right—as long as you always felt subpar, or lacking, or frustrated with your drought of true identity, it would lead you back to the reliance you had on the deceptive characters in your life—it was nothing but a miserable cycle designed to bog you down and snuff you out. At least your tearful eyes had dried up.

You looked at him fondly, with a gentle smile. “That’s what I like so much about you… even if you didn’t intend to—which I know you didn’t, judging from what I’ve heard about you trying to avoid writing with me—” (he bit his inner cheek coyly, casting a somewhat anxious hand through his hair), “—you helped me realize parts of myself that were always there, but only needed some nurturing. You actually encouraged me. Supported me. And—okay—I know I said that I hate myself—but since I’ve met you, I’ve been replacing it with an understanding of my situation. I’ve been kinder. I’ve been more of myself. I like to think what we have is a sort of symbiosis.”

Wonwoo nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“Do you think that I’m… stupid… for staying?”

Immediately, Wonwoo’s face furled in disagreement. “No, no. Absolutely not. Mingyu’s been with you for so long. He has an integral quality in your life. It would be difficult to uproot yourself just like that. No one’s a better judge of that situation than you.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

As you relaxed back into the bar chair, Wonwoo could practically see this heavy, dark mist levitate from you and dissipate into the air. He knew that feeling of relief and inner freedom very well, and there was almost nothing that could compare to it.

Wonwoo then sipped from his glass of water, continuing to watch the stiffness melt off you like ebbing spring snow. "So, what was his response like? To your accusations? Was he at least honest?"

"Yeah, I got it all out of him eventually," you revealed with a very cumbersome sigh. "But he was deflecting like crazy... I'd never seen him like that before... he was fumbling his words all over, like he used to when we were first dating. But it was different. It wasn't nerves, it was just blind anger. He said I was no better. I mean, he's convinced we've had sex, and he wouldn't accept my denial, no matter what."

"It's not black and white," Wonwoo said, squeezing your arm, "it seems to me like a natural consequence. You felt trapped and alone."

For a split second, Jeanie flashed in his mind. A sear of guilt snapped through him. Mingyu would have much reflecting to do.

Nodding your head, you looked to Wonwoo and graced him with the words he may or may not have been waiting months to hear: "it's all over now—Mingyu and I—I made that extremely clear. And I honestly don't care what anyone else has to say. My mom didn't want to believe it... she's been acting strange since. I don't blame her."

In response, he merely nodded, warming you up with his gentle eyes.

But then he was shifting forward in his seat, elbows settled to the counter. Although it was quite late and he felt exhausted from drinking, his curiosity about a particular matter was still sharp.

“So… I’m wondering… what's your reason for writing the book?”

You gulped. “I wanted a way of looking back on everything. Seeing if maybe I could find myself somewhere amongst all those memories. Maybe when I started losing Mingyu was when I started losing myself. Maybe that's when I realized I was losing myself. Maybe that's when I realized I never really knew myself to begin with.”

He shrugged, his face colouring with admiration for you.

“Well... have you found something?”

Your only means of response was a twinkle-eyed grin.

The walk back to your apartment wasn’t as dreadful as Wonwoo anticipated, mostly attributed to the alcohol soaking up in your stomachs, keeping your blood warm even in the face of a tough, harsh wind. Back when it wasn’t so late in the night and his lips had yet to touch his first rum and coke, Wonwoo thought he would take himself home after seeing you off first. But now it was almost midnight, and he had this impending feeling of vertigo while he walked, and he was therefore very limp to fight the offer that involved a comfortable stay at your place until morning.

Wonwoo wasn’t exactly sure where he deposited his coat or his shoes, or even his phone—instead he found himself sitting at the end of your bed, listening to the muffled sound of a running sink behind a closed door as you were busy in the washroom.

He leaned over, removing the glasses already slid down his nose and rubbing a palm into his eye until stars traversed the length of his vision. So, Lady Liberty was a cheater. For the past two years. It did bring Wonwoo to wonder what else Mingyu had said during your argument. Did he ever give a reason for cheating? Did he feel boxed into a life that wasn't the enriching utopia he surmised it might be, but he was toughing it out for the sake of success? Was he cheating because he was mad at you or mad at himself?

Or was he honestly just an asshole?

The Mingyu he was familiar with was shifty, and hardened, and image-obsessed, and now Wonwoo knew for a fact he wasn’t delusional for feeling the tension between you and him whenever you were together. God—he could practically cut all the thickness in the air using Seokmin’s nose and serve it like pieces of cake. But Mingyu hadn't always been like that according to your allegories. Deep down there could still be traces of the man you fell in love with, flickering like shiny little minnows beneath murky, clouded water.

But it was too late now.

Fitting his glasses back on, Wonwoo rolled back the sleeves to his crisp white dress shirt, proceeding to take a gander around your bedroom that he hadn’t revisited in quite some time.

The running sink in the washroom across the hall was finally turned off, although Wonwoo had stopped paying attention to the background noise in place of reading your every detail off the walls. In minuscule ways, the room had changed. There were missing photographs from the dresser, your makeup vanity drawers no longer left ajar in your likely last-minuting rushing to ensure everything was perfect. The closet seemed cleaned-out. Emptier than it once was.

“I thought you might fall asleep.”

He jumped slightly, realizing that you were in the bedroom now, setting down your heels in the corner before making a stride toward the closet where the dress over your arm was hung back up.

Wonwoo bit his lip. “I questioned it.”

You smiled, and within that moment he noticed the long t-shirt you were draped in was the dark blue, logoed math shirt, the one you’d picked after sprinting back to his apartment amidst a rain storm. He felt something in his chest swell and ache in response to how pretty you looked wearing it. Wonwoo knew he was staring, blushing, but he didn’t care. You had two of his t-shirts now. He hoped that collection might continue growing. He hoped that you wore them until his scent was naturally replaced by the strawberry sweetness of your own.

“Thinking about anything in particular?” You asked, arms folded.

Slapping a guilty little grin on his face, Wonwoo shrugged. “No.”

But then you started striding toward Wonwoo, uttering out something half-whispered that sounded a lot like “liar”, and now he truly wasn’t thinking about a damn thing, not even his own breath, as you proceeded to slide your arms around his neck and seat yourself in his lap. He was frozen. You hadn’t been this fucking close to him since you two had cuddled during Seungcheol’s party.

But this was worse—this was full-throttle intimacy with your penetrative, fluttering eyes eating up his soul while your bare thighs squeezed the sense out of him, trapping him, testing him.

“Scared?” You whispered, moving your face in closer.

Yes—he was horrified—he couldn’t even speak with you smiling at him so innocently despite the flames you were igniting.

Though, when he felt a wriggle from your hips that seemed to push against him in all the right places, Wonwoo’s hands were immediate on your waist, tight and stilling, and he swore there was a vulnerable, pliant spark in your eyes that he had never seen before. Maybe Wonwoo could have been more polite about the approach, but after waiting so, so long, he felt like a rocket ship rife with fuel.

He kissed you.

In one decision his lips were pressed to yours, and in a kiss that was full of friction and earnest want, he could only dig deeper. Your arms curled further around his neck, to which you slipped in a quick, sharp breath before pouring yourself back into him so suddenly, mouths moulding again and again, spit slickening, noses bumping. He would have paused to take off his glasses, though Wonwoo was in no place to leave your lips for even a second—especially when your playful tongue glided with his and the world around him melted like wax.

Maybe he was biased (or maybe it was love), but Wonwoo swore it had never felt this right to kiss someone. He knew it, somewhere outside himself, far out in the ever-expanding universe and every other version that belonged, that this moment felt destined to happened. Wonwoo had never particularly believed in fate.

But then he wouldn’t know how else to describe you.

His hands itching to touch more of your skin had gravitated to the thighs clenching at his hips. Your warmth and smoothness only made him greedier. As the kissing became messy in the desperation, he couldn’t help but slide his hands to your ass, immediately kneading his cold fingers into the flesh, pulling, squeezing, pushing you closer into him because he quite literally wanted you to engulf his body.

Then, you were gripping at the back of his hair. You had opened up his throat for your wet lips to continue exploring, and Wonwoo felt every suckle and teething bite draw him further from clarity.

Each kiss slithered lower, until you were gradually lifting from his lap and placing yourself onto the carpet floor. Wonwoo had leaned back to tightly fist the bedsheets behind him, although he would never waver his lusted eyes from the sight of you between his spread legs, on your knees, palming him overtop his dress pants while biting your swollen, glistening lip. He almost wanted the camcorder to capture it.

“How does it feel?” You hummed, staying focused on each pressured movement your hand applied to his prominent erection.

Wonwoo chuckled, clearing the huskiness in his throat, “like I’m gonna die.” His head tilted back. “Holy shit.”

Flashing nothing but a conniving, pleased smile, you tended to undoing his belt buckle. Wonwoo was burning up. As you pulled down the zipper to his pants and helped him shift down the waistband to his underwear an adequate distance, he couldn’t process anything but the fact that he might burst like an explosion of confetti the second your hand would touch him.

Except, you opted to sit back on your haunches.

Tilting your head, you smirked at him.

“I would like a demonstration, please.”

He almost choked. “A what?”

“A demonstration,” you repeated, shuffling closer in between his thighs and gazing up much too seraphically through your lashes, “won’t you show me how you touch yourself, Wonwoo? Please?”

For the life of him, he couldn’t produce one stupid fragment of a sentence, or even a word. God—it didn’t fucking help that you took reign and offered to get him started—your hand carefully reaching past his underwear, gripping onto him gently to spring his erection free. A shiver surged throughout his body at the sensation. Hotness spread like molten lava across his face as the result of your lascivious, teasing actions stood leaking and stiffer than wood right before your eyes, which were agleam with thrill and haze.

You seemed as though you were going to pounce on him.

But he could visibly see you swallow the temptation.

“Aww, you have the prettiest dick I’ve ever seen,” you giggled, wrapping a hand around him that was soft and warm, “would it make you feel better if I started you off, then? Gave you some help?”

Wonwoo’s fists were tangled so intensely into the bedsheets he was surprised the fabric hadn’t disintegrated. Holding his breath, he watched you lean forward until your mouth was hovering an agonizing distance over him, only to produce a line of spit that dripped onto his head. His jaw unhinged in a groan. Then you began working the saliva along his shaft, pumping a hand up and down, occasionally flickering your thumb over the sensitive tip only to remove the contact so casually, likely knowing it would rip him apart.

“Your turn.”

He took a second to push up his glasses and shake his head.

“M’not gonna last long, you know,” Wonwoo grunted, at last heeding your request and beginning to stroke himself for your viewing pleasure, “especially after that big display. You fucking tease.”

With an arm slid over his thigh and the drool collecting in your mouth, you couldn’t have looked anymore dazzled by the thirst you were experiencing, your eyes refusing to part from every tug delivered by his own hand. It was a spell, and you were unapologetically under it.

“Mmm, a tease?” You purred, smiling. “I was just trying to help.”

“Were you?” Wonwoo scoffed, pumping faster while continuing to twist up the bedsheets using his other hand. “Rubbing your fucking spit into my cock is tt-trying to help me? Is that what you think?”

“Mmhm,” you answered, straightening up as Wonwoo felt himself become tenser, felt the pressure in his abdomen climb.

He shuddered, a groan reverberating from somewhere deep in his chest. The sound of his fist wetly slapping up and down consumed the room and Wonwoo knew it was only a matter of seconds before he lost it. You were basking in every sound and movement.

“Fuck, fuck, I-I can't—”

Suddenly, you’d pushed Wonwoo’s hand away. His stomach flipped upside down. Before he could recognize the brief loss and regain of pleasure, your suckling, wet, hot mouth was already sliding down around his erection, your grip fastening to whatever you couldn’t quite reach. Wonwoo bit his lip so hard at the sensation that something coppery-warm was tasted on his tongue, although that was the least of his concerns when you were throating him with messy desperation. His hand rested on your scalp, nervous to push your head down too firmly, but once he did, you moaned out so erotically around him that Wonwoo fragmented.

His hips bucked straight into your face while his fingers had tightened at the back of your scalp, feeling every intense throb expand against your throat, spurt after spurt filthy in your mouth. But you were diligent and zealous and Wonwoo knew you were swallowing it all despite the few tears trickling onto his pelvis. His length didn’t leave the velvet, pillowy confines of your mouth until every bit was expertly milked out from him, though had Wonwoo let his hand drift off your hair in case you wanted a breath.

With a hiccup and a wipe against your chin, you were tasting the bedroom’s heavy air and exhaling ragged as Wonwoo marvelled you.

“Trying to take my soul with you or something?” He huffed, using his thumb to remove some leftovers from the side of your lips.

You caught his hand in an instant. “No—” you piped up, quick to close your mouth around the digit and suck off whatever he politely removed, laving your tongue like you were licking a popsicle, “—I want all of it.”

He thought he might crumble, hearing you mumble such obscene words while tracks of tears dried overtop your cheeks, your voice sounding somewhat hoarse from the labour of taking him whole.

You were climbing back onto Wonwoo’s lap almost blindly, his next breath taken away by a passionate kiss you pushed so fervently onto his lips. There was another tangling of tongues, saliva mixing together, but neither attempting to take control— though at this point Wonwoo would gladly oblige to throwing you on the bed and twisting off those frustrating panties he imagined were sticking to you. He could feel your arousal dampening through the baby pink cotton as his length twitched back to hardness underneath you.

“Wonwoo,” you whined breathily into his ear while grinding your hips against him in search of friction, “I’ve got to tell you something I did.” You bruised up his neck with more kisses. “Something bad.”

His eyes were shut, hands continuing to grope your ass. “Yeah?” He mumbled, feeling your tongue drag across a vein in his neck. “You did something bad? What could that be?”

Your hands drifted down his chest, yanking open the buttons on his dress shirt in satisfying pops. Warm, feathery breath hit his ear. “That day I stayed the night in your bedroom… alone…” you kissed him on his mouth, letting it linger and last, “I couldn’t help it.”

Wonwoo had gripped the side of your face, meanwhile he rubbed underneath the waistband to your tiny, thin underwear.

“Couldn’t help what?”

He flinched as your hand sunk down to grab his cock.

“I touched myself,” you confessed just an inch from his face, “I laid back against your pillows, spread my legs all wide… I had my fingers stuffed so deep inside myself, but it still didn’t feel like enough.” Again, you were softly stroking him. Wonwoo continued to uphold that unwavering, painfully honest gaze you were pinning him in. “Nd’ I came all over your t-shirt, Wonwoo. I played with myself until my fingers were cramping and my legs couldn’t stay open anymore.”

He gulped—heavy—like swallowing a chunk of lead. His tender thumb grazed along your cheek and rubbed over your puffy lips. “I wanted to fuck you so bad that night,” Wonwoo soothed your confession with another, which was already quite obvious, “I dreamt about it. I wanted to bury myself so fucking deep inside your gut.”

You shook your head, eyes teary. “Why didn’t you?” He felt the delicate stroking motion along his erection come to a pause.

Wonwoo cradled your cheek. “It would have fucked everything up.”

“But I wanted it,” you whimpered. “I’ve been wanting it for so long and you just left me there. I would have been quiet. You could have put me face down in the pillows and just used me all you wanted.”

“No,” Wonwoo argued, “I would never want to use you. I want us to be together in everything. I know you wanted it. But lust makes you think different. Just like it’s making you think different right now.”

He softly slotted his mouth with yours, exchanging a much slower, sweeter kiss that lit a glow in his belly. You puddled right into the contact, curling your arms back around his neck to hold him tighter.

Much lighter kisses dappled the edges of your lips.

Wonwoo could feel you start to smile.

“I figured something was off the next morning,” he said.

You chuckled, “I didn’t know how to face with you without thinking about it. I felt so dirty. But in the moment, I needed something.”

He nipped down your slender neck, letting his hot breath and reverberating, husky tone tickle your skin until your hairs stood up.

“How wet were you?” Wonwoo purred, smirking.

Immediately, your hips were pushing down on him. “Soaked,” you then whispered, “I was making such a mess. I tried so hard to be quiet. But part of me wanted you to hear.”

Wonwoo’s hands drifted up your t-shirt, gliding slow against your stomach, coming to reach the plump, sensitive breasts that he could only surmise were waiting for his attention. He cupped them in each palm, giving a tender squeeze and pull that pitched your breath into a squeak. Caressing your neck with more wet, open-mouthed kisses, he felt the absentminded grinding reignite the friction between you.

“Did you touch up here, too?”

His thumbs brushed your pert nipples. He felt you shiver.

“Y-Yes.”

Tsking his teeth, he pleasured them with slow, rubbing circles that you mewled in response to. “You’ve got the softest skin. I could touch you until I die, and it still wouldn't be enough.”

“Mmhm,” he heard you exhale shakily, “I touch myself at home, too. Put my pillow between my legs. Pretend I’m grinding against you. Then let my fingers take me again and again until it hurts.”

How dare you fucking say that to him—how dare you put such an intimate visual in his mind to haunt him like a ghost to hallowed grounds. How many times had you done it? How many times had you stood right in front of him, smiling so innocently, despite knowing damn well what you had done to yourself the night before.

Wonwoo pinched your nipples, watching you flinch.

“Does it hurt right now?”

You nodded.

“Where?” He lowered his voice, sinking his hand back down the creases in your tummy until it paused right on your mound, his eyes trained to your suddenly very desperate, misty look. “Down here?”

“Yes.”

Holding eye contact with you, Wonwoo trailed his hand further along your panties until his touch was situated right between your thighs, directly feeling the wet fabric, the radiating heat, the aroused pulsations. Your fingernails were pricks in his shoulders.

“Fuck, you are drenched, aren’t you?” Wonwoo commented, rubbing his hand against you through the cotton material, your hips soon chasing the overwhelming pleasure. “Can feel you throbbing against my hand, you know that? Bet it aches so fucking good, hm?”

He grinned hard at your eyebrows knitting together. While he massaged you with one hand, the other gripped your chin where he pushed a hot, uncoordinated kiss onto your whiny mouth.

“Lay across my lap,” Wonwoo whispered in between the hasty break for air, “let me play with you instead, make you cum. Please.”

To his delight, your compliance came easily.

It didn’t take long for you to splay yourself in the desired position, with Wonwoo pushing up the shirt to bunch at your waist while your bottom was perfectly presented in his lap. He massaged you, leaning down to mark a trail of kisses along your lower back, along your ass—spreading you wide to see the large, soaked patch glistening on those easily rippable underwear.

“Just open your thighs a bit more,” Wonwoo instructed, to which you quickly listened, “fuck—perfect—all this, only for me.” He pushed his thumb against you through the panties and you instantly squeaked.

“Right?” He urged. “Is this all just for me?”

“Mmhm—yes, yes. I fucking promise. Just for you.”

Wonwoo bit his lip to stop the size of the immediate smile from breaking across his face. Your hips wriggled up as his touch drifted away.

“I need more,” you groaned in frustration, “please.”

“More here?” Wonwoo pulled back on one side of your glute to help reveal the sensitive area, then rubbing his thumb against your clit.

Your entire body jerked, and he noticed your fingers dig into the bedsheets, clawing them up. He figured the wet friction between his thumb and your panties was frustratingly amplifying every little sensation in a dull but very cruel way. He continued his ministrations, adding some more pressure for you to squirm and moan at.

“Does it still hurt?” Wonwoo asked, letting his other hand slide up your bare waist, the skin beginning to sweat and turn even warmer.

“Please,” you groaned, attempting to adjust your hips against the stroking from his thumb, “I feel like m’gonna fucking die, Wonwoo.”

“Still need more, then?”

“Yes!”

Deciding to throw you a bone, Wonwoo grabbed those thin, pink panties in his hand and helped you slide the constricting fabric down and off your legs. Once he spread you nice and wide, let the cold air ghost the slicken, swollen skin, you had gasped. For a moment, Wonwoo didn’t speak—he only stared at you with all the stars in the universe collecting behind his eyes, glittering like a snow globe—at how beautiful and exposed and needy you looked.

He let his fingers slide ever so slowly along your clit, drawing up to your hole, then pushing back down to hear you whimper brokenly.

Wonwoo swallowed the dryness in his throat.

“Do you have any fucking idea how beautiful you are?” He complimented, his fingers soaking in your arousal. “I knew your cunt would look pretty, but this is more than that. God…” experimentally, Wonwoo shifted a finger gentle into your opening, giving the digit a wriggle and few shallow pumps. Immediately your intense warmth clenched down tight before loosening, engendering him to effortlessly press in two more long fingers. “There you go… good girl…” he mumbled his encouragement as you gripped the bedsheets and moaned a guttural sound, “taking in my fingers so fucking well—they slide in so easy… make such perfect, dirty noises whenever they fill up this gorgeous cunt.”

His thumb touched at your clit, lending it some attention that had you twisting and bucking back to receive even more pleasure.

“God, Wonwoo…” you gasped, sounding lost to the ecstasy while letting him take his time with mapping out your inner walls with curious strokes, “that feels so fucking good. You have no idea. Feels like m’gonna pour all over you.”

He grinned, further stimulating your swollen clit, maintaining the pattern as you propped up on your elbows, tugged at the bedspread, and released a mellifluous, shuddering moan from your throat.

“F-fuck ye-yess…” you whined as his fingers squelched deeper and his thumb continued its circles, “yes, yes, yes, keep doing that—oh-oh, fuck! M’gonna cum all over your fingers—m’gonna make a mess!”

“That’s all I want,” he breathed, his chest tightening at how much arousal was pooling sticky around his digits, “that’s all I’ve ever fucking wanted—make a mess all over me, like the pretty, desperate girl you are. Let me see it. Let me feel everything. Cum just for me.”

Your entire body proceeded to seize, Wonwoo’s fingers now struggling to pump, as this striking wave seemingly coursed through you and resulted in heavy fluids wetting his dress pants. It took a moment for you to power through the pleasure, though Wonwoo was at least able to maintain his stroking gestures against your clit until he noted the sharp, almost spastic twitches in your muscles.

“That’s a good girl,” Wonwoo hummed in satisfaction while he gingerly eased his fingers out and left your poor, throbbing bud alone.

He smoothed his hand down your back, offering you a moment to relax, breathe, and ride out the electricity.

“Fuck,” you wiped at the sweat on the back of your neck, chuckling at the discomfort, “I can feel it all between my legs.”

Wonwoo smirked. Hard. He bent forward to peck your temple, then brushed his lips against your stinging hot ear. "How about I clean that all up for you?" The velvety whisper caused your body to jitter.

"Clean me up how?" You turned your head, catching his eye.

There was a swap of positions. Wonwoo lowered himself to the bedroom floor, the carpet spongey against his knees, while you lay down on your back and draped your legs off the edge of the bed. But he was hungry for you, and greedier than a treasure hunter, and you went limp as he hitched your knees over his broad shoulders.

Being face to face with your intimate heat was like the kiss of life—new energy was taking over him—giving him desire unlike any other.

He didn't know if he wanted to keep staring at you, your soft skin messy with slick and twitching anticipatorly at his closeness, or if he should stop prolonging the moment and just bury everything into you. Adjusting his glasses, Wonwoo licked his bitten lips. You were in the midst of shuffling up to your elbows, likely wondering what the hell he doing, staring between your thighs for so long.

But as quickly as you squeaked his name, it was interrupted by an intense gasp a second later. You leaned all your weight onto a single elbow, tossing your head back, panting for dear life as Wonwoo striped his tongue long and flat against your heat. His hands gripped your hips, sculpting them over your bone while he tasted your arousal, all sticky and musky and delicious to the point of addiction.

"O-Oh my god, Wonwoo," you cried, letting your body collapse onto the bedsheets, limbs becoming jelly, "that feels fucking amazing."

He licked into you like he were trying to reach the centre of a sweet, colourful jawbreaker. Every pass from his tongue was firm, encompassing, smothering you in pleasure and painting you with spit. But you reacted best when he toyed his ministrations around your sensitive clit—your back would jolt off the bed, arched, as your thighs hugged him tight—Wonwoo heard your begging akin to a distant echo. He would even smile into you, glasses all foggy, chin running in wetness, as you preached his name dumbly, losing your mind. Wonwoo pressed his mouth hot against you, flicking his tongue to your overstimulated clit, focusing hard on his pattern.

"Fuck, fuck!" You shouted, writhing into the sheets. "Please, Wonwoo. Please, please, please—I'm—I'm gonna cum! Please, just—k-keep—"

There was a surge of something warm and liquid that Wonwoo wanted to drink like a peach's nectar. You were throbbing right under his tongue and he loved it to a point that felt utterly insane. He didn't want to stop even if the world was ending. His face plunged in deeper, his hands grafting into your hips harsher, completely ignorant to your fingers pulling at his hectic locks of hair. Wonwoo only wanted you and nothing else and he was going to drown in it.

But you were attempting to sit up, your sweaty body becoming better at escaping his eager, hungry licks that dug into your slit, and once he heard you wince particularly sharp, he knew he had to stop.

He sat back, removing his glasses and wiping off his chin. You slid a leg from his shoulder, using a foot to gently prod against his chest—a light scolding for perhaps enjoying you a little too much.

"Are you starved?" You laughed heavily, gulping down a breath.

Wonwoo fit the glasses back to his face. "For you? Yes." He then licked at his teeth and lips, still yearning to find traces of your arousal, only to realize you were shaking. "Shit—I'm sorry if I hurt you." Standing up, he cupped your face, bending down to kiss you gentle on the lips over and over. "I'm so fucking sorry. You taste amazing, that's all. And you're so beautiful. I couldn't fucking help it."

With a giggle, you tousled his hair. "No, I'm fine. I like a little pain." Your eyes were back to shining. Then, you caught his mouth, stealing another kiss. "But I’m even greedier than you—," pushing yourself up, you nipped at his lips, “—and I want that pretty, long cock inside me to hit all the right spots.” The exchange had you seated back in Wonwoo’s lap, where your bare, soaked pussy was free to brush against his straining and achingly hard length.

“Yeah?” Wonwoo smirked, welcoming your spit-smeared mouth.

Feeling your hips grind against him, you purred, “yeah.”

“I’ve got no protection,” Wonwoo admitted in between the make-out session, hardly able to pry your lips from one another as you slid backward on the bed with Wonwoo climbing over top.

Helping to shove off his dress shirt and slacks, discarding them to the floor, you shook your head. “Don’t need it.”

Returning the gesture, Wonwoo had you fully undressed. The entirety of your bare body on full display felt like something sacred—an artwork that had been crafted with unimaginable attentiveness to every single detail, no matter how miniscule. He couldn't liken it to anything else in his life but a distant memory from childhood—a grand mausoleum that he found himself inside with his older brother, the ceiling intricately chiselled with angelic, satin-like bodies.

Your words seemed distant. It took a second for him to remember.

“Don't need protection? Why?"

As your hands locked behind his neck, pulling him down close, you dug into his eyes with an emotional gaze. “Finish inside me.”

He stuttered, furrowing his brow, “seriously? You won’t—”

“No. I’m taking precautions, you know.” Brushing at his dampened, thick hair, you asked, “have you ever had unprotected sex?”

Wonwoo scoffed, surprised at the inquiry, “yeah. But—is that—you really want that? With me?” He stared down at you intensely.

“I only want it if you want it, too.”

He nodded, biting his lip, taking a moment to examine your perspiring face alongside the the rising and dipping of your chest.

“I want it,” Wonwoo reaffirmed, “I definitely want it.”

Truth be told, a splinter of nerves had lodged into his chest at the thought of having to perform to your anticipation—Wonwoo was never really sure if he would ever get intimate with you—and as his gaze again streamed your body, he felt overwhelmed. But then your fingertips were stroking down his bicep, seemingly drawing out the forthcoming anxiety from him like you were pulling out a thread of energy, and the easygoing smile he was met with tamed his heart.

Wonwoo eased closer toward you, allowing your expert touches to be the guide. Your hand had returned to his length for a few more thorough and especially lentamente tugs, prompting him to hiss into your neck while very flushed shades of pink crawled up his face.

He felt himself throb, wanting to simply collapse against you and climax at your hand for the second time. To make matters even more complicated, Wonwoo felt you shift slightly, and then the tip of his impatient cock was suddenly gliding all slippery like butter along your folds. Wonwoo’s arms started to shake.

You laid your palm gentle against his neck.

“How’s that feel?” You whispered in a trembling breath, meanwhile continuing the heavenly ministrations of tracing your clit with his length. “I-I think it feels quite nice—getting you all wet.”

“Amazing,” he answered, pressing his forehead to yours and pecking at your lips, “you want me to take it from here?”

Keeping silent, your grip drifted from his erection and you seemed satisfied to let the control sway now that Wonwoo was adjusted. Just before he aligned himself, however, he looked at you and laughed.

“Can you push up my glasses real quick?”

You chuckled, “seriously?”

“What’s wrong with wanting to be see you properly?”

“Nothing,” you flashed a tender smile, then using your finger to help position the glasses back up his nose, “there you go.”

Wonwoo proceeded to slide himself inside you at a slower pace that allowed him to bask in the intimate sensation—he made damn sure every little squeeze, flutter, and convulsion your heat cushioned him with was felt—though that made it considerably hard for him not to release in pathetic fashion, before he had even made a good, swift thrust. You were soaking up the moment just as much.

He didn’t want to advert his eyes from the pleasure cascading like ripples across your face for even a second. Once he was buried in still and deep, completely stuffing you to the hilt, your breath had fogged up his glasses.

“Fuck—s-sorry—” you squirmed through the apology, your hips occasionally canting against his in unbridled twitches, “—I can hardly fucking think right now. Do you know how much you’re throbbing?”

He choked out a hoarse laugh, “do you know how insanely good you feel to me? Feels like m’gonna fucking break into a million pieces. ”

“I want you to break me into a million pieces,” you whined so needily, looping your arms around his neck, “fuck me, Wonwoo. Please.”

He was positive you had told him that in a dream once.

As euphoric as you felt clenching around him, Wonwoo truly did want the sex to last. His thrusts into your heat weren’t frantically impatient, rather they grooved incredibly, purposefully deep—each stroke was thoughtful but hard, slow but timely, and judging from your high-pitched keens and the nails scraping against his shoulder blades, he knew you were appreciating the moment just the same.

Wonwoo grasped your sweaty hands in his, your fingers interlocking tight, in order to hold them against the sea of silky pillows above your head. With another especially daggering thrust that made his teeth clench and his abdomen flutter, you had jerked and cried out his name, followed by a breathless, “rr-right there!”

A leg wrapped around his hips, your ankle digging uncomfortably into his side while he continued to push his length into the spot that was making you howl. But it was getting increasingly difficult to continue the tempo—your leg was tightening around him like a boa constrictor and your warmth was clamping down with plain strength, almost as though your body was attempting to lock him inside.

He merely squeezed your hands harder, losing his breath. “You’re almost there, aren’t you?” Taking advantage of another thorough stroke, Wonwoo had the bedframe thudding the wall, his words hotly pressing into your ear. “You’re trying to keep me suctioned in.”

Your whimpers were falling apart like crumbling clay. Wonwoo tried to understand what it was you were mewling at him, something involving his name, how good it felt, that he should keep going, meanwhile tears were springing to your eyes and wetting your glimmery cheeks. Wonwoo bit his lip. He was throbbing wildly inside your heat, knowing you were only getting dumber and turning incoherent as he speared you so intimately on his cock.

Wonwoo wasn’t going to last much longer and neither were you. He was already feeling himself burst and break—the convulsion ripped through him like a landslide and now your leg was fully hooked around his hips, pinning him against you while he emptied himself disgustingly deep inside your warmth.

The sensation must have triggered your own orgasm, because his cock felt like it was practically being suffocated as you squeezed down on him. Wonwoo thought he might blackout when you whined his name into the dim bedroom humidity, strung in a loud, trembling lilt that cracked beautifully in the middle.

Your arms were winding back around his neck, pulling his face to yours, a kiss crushed onto his awaiting mouth.

“I need more,” you panted in between the kisses, “don’t feel full enough yet. Cum inside me again, Wonwoo. Please, take me again.”

“Again?” He smiled, his glasses bumping your nose. You were completely uncaring, only nipping at him harder. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, “I’ve never been surer of anything in my fucking life.” Suddenly, you were wriggling underneath him, rolling onto your stomach, and repositioning yourself such that you were face-down-ass-up. With eyes twinkling bright in pure, carnal lust, you threw him a a yearning glance from over your shoulder. “Fuck me again, nice and deep like before." His heart shot into his throat. When you begged, it was like his world was shrinking into a bubble where only you and him existed. "Please—I need it before your cum starts leaking out. I need to be filled by you, Wonwoo. Please.” You looked like you might cry if he didn't oblige the plead.

And so he did, his fingers planting a firm grip on your strong hips.

As much as you were willing to take, he was willing to give, finding himself submerge further and further into the intoxicating nature of it all until he started to lose his mind—all he knew is that it was concerningly late at night, your bedsheets were sticky and ruined, and you had gone from being thrust into the pillows to slapping yourself down on his cock while Wonwoo hazily watched. He loved the sight of your sweat, your glowing light, your bouncing breasts and pleasure-drunk face far too much. At some point, you had slumped forward into him, spent to fucking hell.

With your chests were pressed together, his cock still throbbing and stuffed inside you, there was a moment of nothing but thick, laboured breathing and heartbeats synchronizing. He kissed your temple and wrapped his arms around you, proceeding to mumble something sweet and half-asleep that contained your name.

You had squeezed his length unforgivingly in response.

“Fuck—don’t get me hard again. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“I like when you use my name.”

He smiled into your cheek. “I can tell.”

Wonwoo had woken before you.

Mostly because the bedsheets had been gradually wrapped up and tugged away and progressively stolen from him during the night, letting the cool, morning air dust over him like spray from an ocean. You were a fidgety sleeper, he had realized, sometimes even a mumbler, although Wonwoo had never been able to discern what it was you were sluggishly declaring in your dreams.

He turned his head to you, saw the bare groove of your back, shapely like a flower petal, and your arm dug underneath the silk pillow, observing every breath your unconscious body took.

Then, Wonwoo was leaning over you, feeling his fingers sink into your fleshy waist while his lips touched a kiss against your warm cheek. He hoped you wouldn’t mind him using your washroom for a shower.

Afterward, Wonwoo retraced the apartment, finding his shoes a questionable distance apart—one stood square at the front door while the other was left in the hallway leading to your room. His winter jacket was tossed over the arm to the couch, meanwhile his phone involved a more in-depth search. For some reason, he’d left it atop a shelf beside the television, hidden by a clumsy stack of textbooks.

When he tapped the screen, it illuminated some text messages from Vernon that had been sent at around two in the morning—mostly inquiries about the birthday dinner and whether or not Wonwoo had bothered going to the famed and mysterious Room 319.

Though, he opted not to respond, realizing the details he wanted to share with his friend would likely require a sit-down discussion over burgers, fries, and sodas at Solar Pop. Making his way back to the bedroom, Wonwoo carefully creaked open the door to find you half-shoved onto an arm, making tired circles against your eye.

He smiled, coming to sit beside you, handing off the glass of water he poured for himself.

“Are you leaving?” Was the first question you blearily pieced together after accepting the water but not drinking anything from it.

Wonwoo shook his head. “No.”

You managed to sit up properly, the sheets settling around your hips while you continued holding onto the glass. For a moment, you seemed to just observe Wonwoo, your eyes still swollen from sleep.

“Where are you going, then?”

He furrowed his brow. “Nowhere,” Wonwoo laughed, pulling one leg up onto the bed. “I got up to shower. Went and found my things. Got a glass of water, which you’re now holding, by the way.”

You swallowed, looking down at your lap.

“Oh…” after a recollecting pause, you took a sip from it.

Wonwoo smiled, his eyes softening like fresh brown sugar, as he proceeded to unstick some matted hairs from the edge of your face.

“You’re a pretty big sheet stealer,” he said, continuing to spread his fingers about your features, removing fluffs and rubbing off bits of dried spit, “and you seem to like talking, even in your sleep.”

“Oh, yeah… I should have told you that.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I liked not knowing.”

“Did you?” With a laugh and smile, you drank some more water.

“Yeah. Because it’s you, it makes me adore it even more.”

“I don’t always mumble. I swear. Only sometimes.”

Wonwoo didn’t care. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I guess I should shower, too. Then I’ll change the sheets and get new ones on.” You abruptly raised the blankets at your lap, lifting up a leg to examine something Wonwoo couldn’t see. “Yeah, I definitely need to change the sheets… oh! And take my pill. Fuck. I can’t forget.”

“I can help with the sheets.”

“Okay,” you said while leaning forward to pull open a drawer on your nightstand, revealing a thin, silver cartridge of pills, “thanks.”

After you had showered and gotten dressed in a clean spare t-shirt, you changed the dirtied sheets to your bed together.

Then you and Wonwoo spent some time together in the open, bright living room, lounging on the couch. Maybe you had kissed a few more times, and maybe his naturally cold hands had found their way underneath your loose t-shirt to curiously massage and press along your pretty chest, and maybe you had kissed a little more after that while the sun rays slid up your sensitive skin.

You twisted away from Wonwoo’s lips with a giggle.

“M’kay, that’s enough, or else I’ll need another shower.” You grabbed at Wonwoo’s hands that had been squeezing your breasts.

Although he didn’t want to stop, he listened, relaxing against the pillow he had stuffed between his spine and the arm of the couch, now throwing an elbow behind his head. You were leaning back against him, getting comfy between his legs, and for a few minutes or so, the two of you gazed out those large, floor-length glass windows into the awakening, snow-capped city.

He felt you stir against him.

“You know… sometimes you don’t always speak English.”

Wonwoo itched his eyebrow, chuckling, “what?”

“Last night, like, when I was riding you—” your head tilted back onto his shoulder, beaming him a smile, “—you would start switching languages. In between English and Korean. It was so cute.”

“Oh, yeah.” He adjusted his glasses, staring down at you while his cheeks became rosy. “I don’t know, it’s just something my brain does automatically. I don’t always realize I’m doing it.”

You grinned; eyes sparkling. “When it feels too good?”

Ruffling a hand through his hair, he simply smirked at you.

“Having a front seat view to the most beautiful girl in the world riding me just happens to be something that makes me feel really good.”

You pushed your head up to kiss him, followed by a sweet and brief whisper that he smiled at, “compliment appreciated.”

A few more quiet minutes passed. Wonwoo thought he could spend the entire day just sitting on the couch with you warm in his arms, watching the snow tumble down like wisps of tender willows.

“Wonwoo?”

“Mm?”

You got quiet.

Then, your weight against his chest was gone, and you had half-turned yourself around to look at him, seeming nervous.

He tilted his head. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you answered, glancing down briefly before soaking him back into your agleam eyes. “I just want to apologize, actually.”

At that, Wonwoo stiffened. “Yeah? What for?”

With a sigh and another anxious moment to fiddle with the rolled-up cuff belonging to his wrinkled dress shirt, you were reserved.

“Ever since we fought, I can't help thinking about it. I mean, I’ve thought about what you said, and the fact you apologized, and explained yourself, and how you gave me time to process it all. You gave me so much grace, even when I felt like I hated you… but… I also said some hurtful things about you… I mean, back then I felt like you deserved it. And, I don’t know… maybe you did? Like, maybe we both needed to just be there, screaming at each other, digging our guts out, throwing up all this stuff to the surface because no one else has ever given us that freedom or made us feel like we could before. Anyway, I just feel like it’s only right that I say sorry, too.”

Scratching at his neck, Wonwoo swallowed. He never thought of it like that. “Uh, sure. If that’s what you feel you need to do. ”

“I’m sorry, Wonwoo. I really, truly am.”

He smiled, grasping at your hand and threading his fingers with yours. Pangs of regret were flooding your eyes, filling them up until they were undoubtedly teary and Wonwoo had to wipe it all away.

“It’s fine, I swear,” he whispered, moving in closer to you, brushing at your cheek as you sniffled. “Nothing has ever truly changed how I feel about you. You’re incredibly firm but sensitive, and have such fiery passion, and you’re curious about everything, and I know that it hurts so much to live without really knowing yourself. But I see you, and I feel like I know you. I never want to stop knowing you, alright?”

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah?”

Your mouth pressed against his, and he tasted the salt from the tears that beaded down the slopes of your cheeks, warm with life.

“I love you.” He felt the whisper touch at his lips. “I really do.”

Wonwoo held onto your face like he was cradling a big pearl. “I love you, too.” Another kiss sealed the expression into felt, tangible emotion. “But honestly, you already knew that.”

Later in the day, you came up to Wonwoo as he ate lunch at the table, only after having disappeared into a distant office space further down the hallway. You dropped before him a clear, plastic duotang, which held a notably thick stack of papers that had quite a weight to it upon picking up. It only took a few flips into the papers for Wonwoo to realize that it was the completed book he used to proofread for you—a series of chronological memories between yourself and the boyfriend you had gradually drifted apart from.

True to your word, you had forged ahead and finished the book alone.

He was proud to hold the evidence.

Wonwoo asked what you planned to do with the book now that it was done. He even wondered if you might let him read some parts he never got to work on, though he understood if you preferred to keep the contents private. As he was in the middle of lifting a hot spoon to his mouth, Wonwoo suddenly paused at hearing your response.

“I think I’ll just shred it.”

You didn’t seem to care.

The decision came easier than pressing a button. There was only one copy of the book, apparently, and you had plans to turn all its pages into literary confetti. But that was a very you thing to do, Wonwoo had come to accept. Writing served many purposes, and it seemed that the purpose you had sought out was met. Somewhere, in all those paragraphs, sentences, letters, and ink, you found the fulfillment you had always ached for. At last, you struck a glimmer of promising gold after digging through all the haze and confusion.

“Sure,” he answered, “shred away.”

—8 MONTHS LATER. END OF JUNE.

“It looks so pathetic!”

“What?! No it doesn’t!”

Peeking up from the mason jar of earthy blue water he’d been swirling together using some dirtied paintbrushes, Wonwoo saw you seated across from him, talking to a very dismayed, upset twelve-year-old girl. Sierra’s little sister, Cora, had enrolled in his landlord’s ceramics class over the summer, and thus every Saturday evening she spent her time moulding unwilling chunks of grey clay alongside other similarly aged students. It was only Cora in the shop since she had been the last to get her teapot in the kiln, taking extra time with every minute detail.

Though, despite her care and attentive pace, Cora was still not pleased with the teapot, leading her to grumble and shake her head.

You were sitting beside her, a hand rubbing along the little girl’s back while she continued scrutinizing her creation. Ever since you moved into Wonwoo’s apartment back in May, Saskia had quite liked you more than her average tenant, and that somehow transformed into an offer to help her teach the summer ceramics class (with pay).

Wonwoo was always there to assist in the clean-up afterward—his favourite part was submerging all the greasy, bristly paintbrushes into a clean jar of water so that he could watch how their colours bled out in thin, swirling hues.

“No, no, no—it’s just bad.”

“I’m telling you. It’s not.”

Cora picked up the lid to the pot, then placed it back down. “There—look—it doesn’t even close properly. And the spout is not spouty enough… it’s too thick, I think. Hardly any tea will go through!”

“Well, I really like it.”

Tucking a tuft of poofy, rust-brown hair behind her ear, Cora gave you a suspecting and funny sort of look that made Wonwoo smile to himself. She was a very shy student, but she talked to you the most.

“You say that about everything I make,” Cora sighed.

“So what?”

“So…” she nibbled on her small lip, looking off to the side, “you have to say that, because you're nice. You’re like my mom. She says she loves everything I make. But then why don’t I ever love it?”

“She loves it because you made it, obviously. And she loves you. I think love changes how we look at things. Even the impractical.” Then, you picked up her teapot and moved it closer. “You know why I like this teapot? Because it shows you’re determined. I mean, look at all those bowls on the newspaper over there—you’re the only one who did the teapot! And you did it mostly by yourself. You wouldn’t even let me help you roll out the clay. So, that’s why I like it. Because I see you in it. And when you tackle it again, you’ll know what to do differently. Plus, you know you can ask me for help, right? You know I’ll always help you.”

The little girl’s freckled face suddenly became less twisted with judgement and frustration. She set her elbows onto the table, scratching at a Hello Kitty bandaid along the back of her hand, while you gave her hair a quick ruffle. Wonwoo started drying off the paintbrushes using paper towel before moving them into the cup labelled “clean” with a piece of tape.

“What should I do with this, then? If it won’t work,” Cora asked.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But for now, just leave it with the other stuff. We’ll give it a nice glaze next time around. Make it even prettier. Then you can decide what to do with it—whether or not you want to keep it or smash it on the ground. It’s up to you, Cora.”

Wonwoo tilted his head. “Why don’t you turn it into a miniature flower pot or something? Fill it with soil and plant something in it?”

Cora raised her eyebrows. “I like that idea, actually.”

“Me too,” you said, shooting Wonwoo a sly wink that he smiled very stupidly at, “look at this guy over here. Lurking with his good ideas.”

By the time Sierra was available to pick up her sister, Wonwoo had officially finished cleaning all the paintbrushes and whittling tools, as well as replacing the tablecloth with a fresh one. The three of you stood at the base to the shop’s very small stoop, exchanging some general conversation while a sleepy Cora held onto her sister’s hand and leaned her seemingly heavy head against her side.

The sky was a tame yellow shade, not as bright as a buttercup, but something delicate of the like.

“Hey—I heard you guys are planning a vacation!” Sierra chirped, adjusting the car keys in her hand, “is that all true?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, flashing Wonwoo a soft smile, “uh, we decided that we’re gonna spend some time in South Korea. I haven’t visited his family at all. But, yeah. Gonna leave start of August and come back right before October. So, a pretty good chunk of time.”

“No way!” She exclaimed.

“We’ll see how it pans out,” Wonwoo commented, sliding his arm around your waist and digging his fingers into your hip. “But my brother won’t shut his mouth about meeting her. And my parents are obviously curious. Besides, there are some great places I want to show off.”

Sierra shook her head. “I’m jealous. And totally sure you guys will have a great experience together. We’ll miss you here, though.”

“Please do,” you laughed, and Sierra pinched your cheek.

She then looked down at her sister, who had her eyes shut.

“Okay, I’m gonna get this little dove home. Thank you so much for helping her at ceramics by the way. She talks about you all the time.”

“Really?” You touched at your face, seeming flustered. “Well, I love helping her out. She’s a sweet girl with a lot of will on her shoulders.” Lowering your voice, you moved in closer to Sierra. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for a cute gift she can have while we’re gone.”

After parting ways with Sierra and Cora, you and Wonwoo returned upstairs, back into the apartment to prepare for supper.

Both of you were feeling particularly lazy, and the shiny red tomato he was supposed to chop ended up being ignored in place of eating ice cream straight from its tub.

You were the one who grabbed it—Wonwoo was only following suit as he picked up a spoon and curved some out.

Something else interesting about you that Wonwoo had learned since moving in together was that you didn’t really care to ever sit on a chair, even when you were eating. It was either the sofa, the floor, or the kitchen table, in which you would be holding onto your food even though he always thought how easier it could be if you did sit down properly. The quirk was fun, nonetheless, and Wonwoo had admittedly started looking at the kitchen table in a different light after he proceeded to give you oral on it one night. Consequently, it bloomed a very dangerous habit between the two of you.

A habit that might become drastically less accessible once you two jetted off to his native country for over a month, confined between his parent’s cozy home where he grew up and the two-story apartment his wealthy brother and sister-in-law owned in the glittering heart of South Korea’s Seoul. He was nervous. You were nervous. But at least you were together.

Over the months, your parents had gradually come to accept him as your boyfriend, even if they weren't exactly warmed up to the idea at the start. Wonwoo revisited your home a few times alongside you to help in the explanations of your story and future prospects, although he partially understood that Mingyu was like a precious sapphire to your family and having him out so suddenly was hard to stomach.

He spent years nestling himself a comfortable burrow and smoothing out the bumps to make a crafty façade that, particularly your mother, couldn't help but outwardly adore. Like a son. Like Seokmin, too.

Wonwoo thought Mingyu might give him trouble.

In truth, he'd scarcely seen him, unless transient glimpses of his towering, quickly bustling figure from across a university campus or city street were noteworthy. Obviously, he wasn't inside Mingyu's head and he really had no inclination as to what the boy might be thinking on the occasion he spotted you and Wonwoo hand-in-hand at the park, or sharing breakfast at the café along Sunnyside.

But if Mingyu maintained even half the feelings that Wonwoo did for you, then he was positive it hurt like fucking hell.

Of all people, Wonwoo supposed he himself knew best.

—AUGUST 1ST.

“Wonwoo!”

He closed his dresser drawer, almost slamming his fingers inside. Your voice echoed from the living room, sounding hectic.

“Yes? What’s up!”

“The taxi’s here!”

Fuck. He immediately thought. The time was flying by.

Wonwoo had made a gigantic list of what to pack, but over time he kept adding and taking things away from it. Now, it was early morning, soft rain and cracks of bursting light coming down outside, and he was doing a final clean-sweep of the bedroom as well as his poorly scribbled list to ensure everything he needed was with him.

Quickly approaching the window, Wonwoo glanced outside to see the cab parked at the curb. Fuck. Again. Vernon always said he would happily provide you two a ride to the airport, but then the boy was unsurprisingly wrapped back into some trouble, and Wonwoo hadn’t seen his best friend in over a week.

Graciously, however, Vernon had given him a heads up and a proper goodbye beforehand. He’d even left him a voicemail to listen to, which immediately jumped into Wonwoo’s brain at random as he scrambled around the bedroom in search of his phone.

“Just give me one more minute!” Wonwoo shouted.

There was a pause on your end, and then a sigh.

“Do you need help?”

“No—all good. I promise. Can you let the cab driver know?”

“I will.”

“Thank you!” Wonwoo sang, finding the phone blended into his bedsheets, then proceeding to open his inbox. “I love you!”

“I love you, too!” You shouted back. “Just hurry the fuck up!”

He let Vernon’s message play while also tossing his suitcase onto the bed, stuffing in a few more last-minute grabs with utter clumsiness.

“Heyyy, Glasses! How are things? I’m shooting you this cute little message at arounddd—oh! Looks like it’s two in the mornin’! It’s two in the fuckin’ mornin’ and I’m pulled up outside this dude’s house all ‘cause he can’t pay me back for my good, hard services. It’s nothin’ serious, though. Don’t get all uptight like usual. You know I’m good at handlin’ stuff and keepin’ my cool. Probably my better qualities. Anyway, I’m bored as fuck. I’ve spun this Lloyd CD about four times and I just can’t listen to that dude anymore. He can sing, though.

I am pissed you’re leavin’ me. And I’m pissed she’s leavin’ me, too. You guys are what I look forward to whenever I drive down into that shithole city. Well, I think just about every city’s a shithole city. In fact, the city I’m in now is probably more of a shithole… Seokmin texted me the other day—said he wants to talk—which is vague as fuck and to be honest, I’ve been ignorin’ it ‘cause I can’t get myself to give a god damn. But maybe I’ll hear him out. That guy was a cutie, wasn’t he? I still think you’re a bit cuter. And better at mini-put.

I’ll miss you a lot when you’re down there… it got me thinkin’ about the night when we first met. The New Year’s Eve party. You remember that pretty well, don’t’chya? I saw you come in with those guys—they didn’t look like your crowd at all—but then after a while you were alone. Wanderin’ around. It didn’t even seem like you knew anyone else was there. You had the blankest look on your face. Like you were stuck in a loop and you didn’t even know it. I don’t know that I felt pity or anything… hell, maybe I felt a little. I just talked to ‘ya ‘cause I wanted to know if you knew where you even were.

You knew you were at some stupid, loud, awful fuckin’ house party jammed with unfamiliar faces. You knew how much you hated bein’ there. But I don’t think you actually knew how you got there, or why, or what was supposed to happen next. It kinda drew me to you. I wanted to understand it. And you gave me the weirdest look, too, when I stopped you. But once I got you outside, away from all the bullshit, you loosened up just a bit and I realized I was talkin’ to this smart, well-rounded, thoughtful guy who was just a little lost in the weeds.

I know you didn’t really care about me like that. I was just some jumped-up weirdo who could give you mint weed at a sweet price. But I still liked you… I dunno… other people see you differently when they care a whole lot, don’t they? I guess they see things about you that others can’t, or they know exactly what you could be when others don’t. They see stuff even you can’t see. It’s like a superpower, I think… my best superpower is probably makin’ girls giggle. I’ve got a lot of charm, wouldn’t you agree? Ha—anyway—stay safe on your trip, tell Her that I’ll miss her a lot, too—oh! Oh!

Fuck! That’s it. That little fucker is comin’ outside—he can’t resist his two am darts on the porch. God bless you, nicotine! Okay, uh, guess this is me hangin’ up on you. Later, Wonwoo!”

At that point, everything Wonwoo needed was packed. But he’d taken the additional time to complete Vernon’s voicemail, now sitting on the edge of his bed while staring out into the early, glimmering rain shower and the water droplets collecting against his window.

Then, Wonwoo glanced down at the laptop he had open.

He hadn’t written in… months. Not even months—it had been over a year since Wonwoo wrote. And, somehow, it felt good not to write.

It felt necessary to step away from the craft.

Besides, writing would always be there. Just because he hadn’t filled up a document on his computer with harmoniously arranged words, or penned anything down in the journal he used to scribble poetry in, that didn’t make him not a writer. In fact, it could be crucial to know when to step away from something—when to let go of an invisible weight keeping one from progressing. While he hadn’t thought about it in months, it floated to the surface of his mind that there may be something he should let go.

The unfinished book. 01.

Wonwoo deleted it. Simple as that.

Shoving the laptop into his shoulder-sling bag, Wonwoo made sure to knab his journal from the nightstand before he left, just in case anything did excite him with a crack of inspiration as he embarked on his newest chapter with you at his side. Rolling his suitcase hurriedly behind him, Wonwoo rushed out onto the street, feeling the rain graze his hair and skin, while you were leaned against the cab, arms folded and teeth anxiously raking over your bottom lip.

He peppered the cab driver in apologies while he helped shove the suitcase into the trunk.

“Liar—” you grumbled after sliding into the cab, undoing the buttons on your coat, “—you said one minute, not one lifetime.”

“I know, I know,” Wonwoo laughed, removing his glasses to rub off the mist and dew, “but that voice mail from Vernon distracted me.”

“Let me do it,” you said, taking his glasses with a sigh, “we should be fine. I know we’ll make it on time… I guess I’m just on edge.”

He watched you massage at the lenses gently with a sleeve. The driver climbed back into the cab, now pulling away from the pottery shop and driving toward the beam of light that sliced through the dense clouds, like the sun was handling a giant blade.

“Everything’s gonna work out, I promise… and I already told you that we’ll be staying with Bohyuk first, right? Him and Nari?”

Handing the glasses back to Wonwoo, you nodded.

“Yeah… god—I hope he likes me.”

“Oh, he will. You guys are pretty similar, actually.”

The look you gave him warbled slightly.

“What if that’s a bad thing? Every time you tell me a story about your brother, it usually involves you loathing him for something.”

“Those stories took place years ago.”

“But the feelings are still there, aren’t they?”

Wonwoo settled his hand over top yours, giving your fingers a soothing squeeze. He knew you wanted to make the perfect first impression. After all, first impressions were not something that could be easily taken back or erased, unless the people you were meeting were quite forgiving. And Bohyuk was fortunately the forgiving type.

It was only time that Wonwoo exercise the quality as well.

Leaning in close to your face, Wonwoo gazed into your eyes, watching their frantic nature become still like the surface of a calm pond.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, alright?” He murmured.

Huffing out an intense, long breath, you nodded.

“Alright… can I have a kiss, please?”

Lifting his hand to graze against the side of your cheek, he paused to admire your beauty for a moment, only to properly cup your face and push his lips to yours—which tasted sweet and balmy—before feeling you push back firm. He proceeded to give you another soft kiss for good measure, one that cured you to smile all fluttery and coy against his mouth until he was inevitably smiling, too.

In fact, Wonwoo only ever found himself smiling that hard when he was with you.

—END.

heyyyy :] ramble incoming...

first and foremost, ABOVE ALL ELSE, i just want to say thank you! i know this was a very, very long fic for me to be uploading on tumblr. this site is not the most fanfic friendly (or creation friendly for that matter) so stomaching the fact that this needed to be split up into so many parts was like a dagger to the heart! for those who decided to buckle up and lock into this journey, i honestly thank you so much <3 life was not always kind in the process of writing this (hence the fact it took me 2 years, plus some extra) but i was so dedicated to seeing this story through! a lot of the frustration i was feeling toward myself was funnelled into wonwoo's character, so this is quite personal :3

nonetheless, i hope there's something, even a single thing, someone else can take away from the story as well! both wonwoo and her as characters introduce their own unique themes--wonwoo (at the core) is more so about learning to let go in order to progress, whereas her is about using creative tools to help guide the search for identity. i think that writing has helped me learn a lot about myself (even uncomfy, icky things) so i wanted that to be represented through her.

of course, these are not the only things they stand for! but these are the elements i based their characters on, to which other concepts sprouted from. i also loved the idea of pairing someone as lost and misguided and emotionally stunted as wonwoo with this girl who seems so bossy and firm. at first he doesn't like it, but that was really what he needed to accept some of the flaws holding him back. idk if you're familiar with the EXCUSE ME! HE ASKED FOR NO PICKLES! meme but that's what comes to mind when i think of them xD

additionally: special shout out to vernon. he became a much bigger part of this story than i originally intended. he is in some ways wonwoo's foil. vernon knows he's flawed but that's sorta his strength and what makes him genuine. he witnesses wonwoo's entire journey, so at times he also feels like our role, the "reader" and gives wonwoo some wisdomy parting words without rly knowing it (but that's part of his charm <3 i don't want vernon's emotional intelligence to be underrated, which is also an ode to the conversation wonu & her have back in the museum. wonwoo knows there are different types of intelligence and emotionally he is lackinggg).

also small s/o to seokmin. SORRY! HAD TO DO IT!

this has been my slowest slowburn! i wasn't sure how late they were going to kiss. but i didn't want to force anything. i wanted to add the moment when i felt it was surely right! also, if you haven't yet listened to the playlist and you're curious, i recommend listening to the very last song, writer, by ellie goulding. i've been listening to that song for many years, and one day it hit me how coincidentally her lyrics overlap with some of the fic's storyline!

i think it adds a nice final touch <3

LASTLY!

upon contemplation, i will be uploading this fic to ao3 in the same chaptered format it's been posted here! i realize the convenience to bookmarking on that site (and it also doesn't give people's phones a heart attack when trying to read something lengthy) so i hope that appeases some of you who wish to reread with more leisure! i'll be under the username @/uglypluto!

i'll upload the final chapter (this chapter) to ao3 probably between late sunday & early monday.

THANK YOU x100! 💕

[p1utofairy]

PAC: “i get so weak in the knees, i can hardly speak. i lose all control and something takes over me…” 💌⏳🦢🍸

• how does your crush currently feel about you?

disclaimer ✩: 18+ mature themes. here's something to kick off fall 🍂 take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. enjoy!

pile 1 📩 —

heyyy pile 1! let's jump right into your reading 🤗 i'm already hearing that you think about your crush A LOT like you can't get them off your mind even if you tried and they feel the exact same way. you two mirror each other so if you feel intensely about them, they're also feeling intensely about you even if they don't convey that outwardly (i.e. their facial expressions/body language) i feel like they’re not used to having a huge crush on someone, it usually just kinda…happens for them??? like they don't usually have to put a lot of work in to make someone fall for them (bc i'm visually seeing that they're pretty damn attractive) but that's not gonna cut it with you — they just can't get by on their looks. you're big on taking your time to get to know someone and building up that level of trust and respect. you carry yourself very well pile 1 and that's really what made them do a double take when they first saw you. you're 1 of 1 — they've never seen anyone like you before. i'm hearing that some of you may look exotic or people tell you that you resemble a specific celebrity a lot? idk but just know you get the blood rushing through their veins lol they can't help but feel excited when they're around you, yet they barely know you which is the crazy part. they feel like they know you but they don't…and that's what so intriguing to them. stranger by jhené aiko is coming to mind, “i know ya face, i know ya name but i don't know you? isn't that crazy? isn't that crazy?” you may judge them at first and already think the worst like “oh i bet they’re a player!” but don’t jump to conclusions! give it a chance. they may actually surprise you and treat you like royalty, cause i feel a lot of adoration coming from their end…even though they know little to nothing about you. i want you around by snoh aalegra is playing in my head, “it's somethin' 'bout the way you stare into my eyes. i know that i don't make things clear. i fall for you every time i try to resist you.” they’re gonna fall hard for you pile 1. they’re definitely going to want to get serious and make this official which will shock you both, because of how fast things will just come together naturally. AHHH I LOVE IT.

other channeled messages:

whoa by snoh aalegra, kiss me thru the phone by soulja boy ft. sammie, tattoos, glasses, scorpio placements/scorpio moon, wifey, bright smile, almond shaped eyes, petite figure, girl of my dreams, kissin’ on my tattoos by august alsina, u are my high by dj snake & future, prominent air sign placements

pile 2 ⚖️ —

hiiiii pile 2 💓 right away i’m hearing that your crush feels like you’re unattainable? you might be really popular or a naturally social person that everyone clings to, and they find this a bit intimidating. they don’t know how to approach you – they've been trying to figure out how to get your attention but little do they know that they already have it. y'all might have a dynamic like summer and seth from ‘the O.C.’ and/or stiles and lydia from ‘teen wolf’ aw when they find out you like them back it'll most likely catch them off guard like “who?! ME?!” lol they’re so cute. you’re very dreamy to them, they'll damn near start drooling when you’re in close proximity to them…i’m also hearing that they love the way you dress. you show just enough to let their imagination wander lol idk if they wanted me to say that cause i can see their cheeks getting red and them getting all flustered 🤣 let me just say that they respect you so much! they’ll feel so lucky to finally get to know you on a personal level because they’ve been inquiring about you for awhile now. you’ll be everything that they dreamed of plus more & vice versa. there’s definitely a best friend dynamic at the root of this connection, you both will be able to be yourselves unapologetically when you're together. i feel sooo much warmth and comfort. idk why belly and jeremiah from ‘the summer i turned pretty’ just popped up in my head lol but yeah they will love holding you gently and staring into your eyes longingly 😩 SO ADORBS.

other channeled messages:

the cool girl & the gamer boy, no idea by don toliver, just talk to her dude, victor from corpse bride, timothée chalamet, bilingual, hit different by sza ft. ty dolla $ign, my forever boy, good days by sza, skateboarding

pile 3 ⚓️ —

pile 333 💫 what's up!!! i channeled a song for y'all already, come over by aaliyah is coming in strongly. “i know you're asleep but you're on my mind and i'm wide awake and i wanna stop by.” ooo there’s a very sensual vibe between you and your crush, a lot of sexual attraction and tension i'm picking up. you two would make a great looking couple — a lot of people will be looking at you two when you're interacting with each other. it's like “can those two get a room already and just fuck” LMAOOO some will be hating but others will just be admiring like damn i wish i had that. i feel like your crush makes you act really shy lol you try to muster up the courage to look them in the eye and be bold but you fold every time lol i’m hearing them say “don’t be shy baby” 😩 your crush knows what they're doingggggg omg they just love to tease you. a couple that's coming to mind is joey and pacey from ‘dawson's creek’ you may not have paid them much mind initially but one day something clicked and you were like damn…i really like them. it might take a little minute for y'all to officially get together but once you two do…WHEW. i told y'all the sexual tension is through the roof — i’m hearing this is that 90’s r&b type of love. a lot of slow burn and building up to the real thing. they think so much about what it'll be like to finally be able to hold you, kiss you and treat you properly. you evoke a lot of inspiration, motivation and passion in them pile 3 <3

other channeled messages:

halfcrazy by musiq soulchild, take a picture it'll last longer, lavender haze by taylor swift, muse by partynexydoor, capricorn placements/capricorn venus, you're like my own personal brand of heroin - edward cullen (lol)

[wowconradfisher]

all of the girls you’ve loved before

pairing: min ho x reader

genre: slight angst, best friends to lovers, they are both so dense to each others feelings..

summary: being best friends with KISS’s resident “heart throb” is not for the weak. falling in love with him isn’t either, so what happens when the line between best friend and boyfriend becomes too blurred?

a/n: hi hello i am back from the dead. i’m convinced this acc is just gonna be a jenny han-iverse fic acc bc if not conrad then i’m writing about min ho. i have ended school so i hope i am more consistent with writing! feel free to send in requests + questions btw :D i hope u guys enjoy this silly fic that is also based off a taylor swift song hence the title!

Sitting outside of your best friend’s party that he throws every year was not something you thought you would be doing. You were convinced that this time was going to be different, and maybe just because you were seeing Min Ho in a different light, he would see you too. Here you still were, all dolled up but with no guts to walk into the party. You sighed, thinking about how pathetic you might be looking at the moment to anyone walking by. It was annoying in your opinion, just a month ago you couldn’t stand the thought of being with your best friend but now you’re starting to second guess and think more about the times you’ve spent together.

It was about 2 weeks ago when you and Min Ho, well more so you, started kind of overthinking the things you two would do together. You used to think that it was just regular best friend things you did, like talking about your past lovers and flings, laughing about all of the late nights you both have spent on your own having lame fights on the phone. But then you start thinking about the other nights, sneaking out past curfew and holding onto each other's hands in hopes of not getting caught. Or the way he would treat you the way he would never treat anyone else, allowing you to see his softer side, doing silly things like letting you do his skin care after he knows you’ve been crying in his bathroom about some dude that said “loved you” not knowing how carelessly he’s throwing out the words that mean so much to you. You see yourself doing the regular “best friend duties” like never saying bye to each other because you know you’ll be seeing each other again anyways, but you know it shouldn’t bother you when you see the new transfer student Madison write your best friend’s name in a heart all over her assignment. 

You shook yourself out of your daze and stood up, you knew it was wrong for you to be feeling this way about your best friend and there was no reason for you to start feeling this way now. Looking at your phone’s reflection to fix up your makeup, you took a deep breath and confidently made your way to the venue. Walking in and seeing a bunch of lights and loud music was expected, but tonight your goal was to forget about how you felt and let the universe tell you what to do. 

“Excuse me ma’am who let you out looking so good?” a voice spoke from behind you while tapping you on the shoulder.

You turned around and to your surprise it was one of your other close friends, “Q oh my gosh I haven’t seen you in like a week!” you exclaimed while pulling him into a hug, not failing to notice Florian behind him. Once you pulled away you waved at the other male who signaled to his flask, basically asking you if you wanted a shot. You grinned and suddenly all of your prayers had been answered and your night had begun. 

If you were being honest, you knew you weren’t a light weight. You always thought of yourself as someone who could just drink enough to not be a heavy weight and be at the perfect level of tipsy where you can feel the buzz. This is the point where you had to go out to the dance floor because of how free it made you feel, not a single care or worry in the world. That was until you felt someone tapping on your shoulder. You turned around to see a guy, a random one you have never seen before around KISS. You could admit he was a bit attractive but not as attractive as Min Ho. 

Looking up at the stranger you let out a forced smile, “Hi?” you spoke, but sounded more like a question

“Couldn’t help but notice a pretty girl dancing all by herself, you looking for someone to dance with?” the guy asked as he tried to put his hand on your waist. 

You backed away before you suddenly felt someone behind you put their hand around your waist, “Baby I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” a boy spoke with an accent you could recognize anywhere. Looking up, you let out a soft genuine smile at the sight of your best friend. 

Min Ho cleared his throat and saw the guy was still there, “Hey man I don’t know if you noticed but she’s my girl, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t hit on her,” 

The guy furrowed his brows at Min Ho before quickly realizing who he was, “Oh shit sorry man I didn’t know,” he quickly muttered out

“You’re lucky I didn’t have you kicked out. Now leave us alone, yeah?” Min Ho replied, shooing the other guy away. 

Once the guy was gone, Min Ho held onto your hand and led you to a more secluded area away from the party. He looked at you and caressed your cheek, “You okay Y/N?” he spoke softly

You looked up at your best friend and took in the way he looked at you. The way he looked at you made you feel so delicate, like you were the only person that mattered to him. You broke out of your daze and just nodded at him, “Thank you Min, I think it’s time for me to head out now though,” You spoke

Min Ho frowned, but it looked more like a pout to you, “But I just found you,” he spoke, “and we didn’t even get to dance yet,” 

You took his hand that was on your cheek and held it, “I know, I’m sorry I’m just not in the mood for it anymore,” you replied softly 

After hearing your response, it was like something in Min Ho clicked, causing him to hold your hand again, “Okay, let’s go then,” he spoke like it was no big deal

“Let’s go? What do you mean? Like you’re gonna just ditch your party?” You asked in disbelief

He nodded, “Uh yeah duh? Why would I stay at a party that my best friend doesn’t even want to be at?” 

There was that word again, it just keeps dangling over you and taunting you everytime you think you guys could be something more than just friends. Hearing his response just made you let out a small smile. Him pretending to be your boyfriend just lets you have a glimpse of what you weren’t but what you could be, truly it does break your heart but what can you really do about it.  After that night, he just dropped you off back at your dorms, you didn’t even have the energy to invite him in like how you guys usually do. It did feel awkward just leaving him but you needed this. Your heart needed it. 

You did feel bad for ghosting everyone. It had been a week since the party and you needed to shut down and take time for yourself to really think about what you wanted to do about your feelings for Min Ho. After being by yourself for a week and doing your work online, you felt like you really did learn a lot about yourself, and that in order to get over your feelings for your best friend, you had to accept that you had those feelings in the first place. 

During this week of you ghosting everyone, you weren’t the only one in question about their emotions. Min Ho to say the least has been snappier than ever to everyone. Most times, whenever you were around he would be at his nicest, you were someone who humbled him and brought him back to Earth but without you? He truly was something and someone you did not want to cross. The boy is a mess, he doesn’t know how long ago you guys haven’t talked for this long. Even if it was just a week, it felt like years. One thing Min Ho will do for you but never admit or do for anyone else is giving you space.

If he’s being honest with himself, he tried so incredibly hard not to fall for you or do anything that can potentially jeopardize his relationship with you but the moment he saw you at his party looking the way you did dancing on the dance floor, he knew he was done for. That’s why the whole week he has been so upset with himself for doing what he did that night, for calling you baby, for pretending to be your boyfriend, all of it, because now you weren’t even talking to him. It wasn’t until you texted him asking if he could come over where he finally felt the feeling of anxiousness leave his body.

Min Ho was standing at your door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, debating on when to knock. That was until you beat him to it and just opened the door after hearing his shuffling from behind the door. Genuinely you were surprised, you didn't expect him to show up so fast, and with your favorite flowers too?

"Hi Min," you spoke with a smile before opening your door to let him in, "Come in please, you've been here countless of times so don't get shy on me now,"

He chuckled, taking off his shoes before stepping into your dorm, placing them among your other shoes and then following you to your room. Before sitting down, he handed you the flowers, "Here Y/N, I got you your favorites,"

"What's the occasion Min?" you asked taking the flowers and admiring them before placing them on your lap

"I just missed you that's all," he replied before sitting down next to you

You cleared your throat and started fiddling with your hands, "Min Ho I've been meaning to talk to you about this for a while," you spoke, "But if I'm honest I want to say I'm sorry for ghosting you for a week, I just needed time to figure out what I was feeling,"

Min Ho grabbed onto your hands and held them, preventing you from fiddling with your hands and causing you to look up at him, "It's okay Y/N, you know I would give you all the time in the world," he replied

Staring into his eyes, you knew you had to say it now or else you would never want to say it, "Min Ho, I'm in love with you," you said feeling so much lighter with that confession alone, "I think I always have been, but I wanted to be sure of it before I told you. I don't know when it exactly happened, but at one point the lines between being my best friend and wanting something more with you started to blur. So please tell me now if I'm just overthinking this whole thing and maybe I'm the only one who feels this way but-" you spoke before Min Ho leaned in to kiss you.

Your eyes widened in shock for a second before you closed your eyes finally kissing him back, melting into his touch and putting your hand onto his chest. If you could describe what the best thing that has happened to you, it would be this moment alone. The way your lips moved together in perfect synchronization, like you were both made for each other. Truly it could not compare to anything you've ever felt before.

Once you both pulled away, your forehead rested against Min Ho's, "You drive me crazy Y/N, I never even thought I had a chance with you but I'm so thankful all of our past romances led me here to you," he spoke

You smiled at his response, "So does that mean you love me too?"

"I love you more than words can describe, I mean I can show you in actions too?" He replied with a smirk

"Min Ho!" you gasped, playfully hitting his shoulder

He laughed at your reaction, "I'm kidding! I mean unless you were serious?"

You rolled your eyes playfully at the boy you were thankful to be in love with. At least this time you were sure this would be real.

[princessbrunette]

Rafe with a reader who's known around as being a tease, all talk. I feel like he wouldn't like it very much

s1 rafe again bc for some reason im obsessed w him lately

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

he’s heard about you. a tease, as they call it — always flirting, batting your eyelashes up at every guy and then never putting out. no one was quite sure what kind of sick game you were playing, attracting the eyes of many at every kook gathering or country club outing but rafe was intrigued. not enough to do anything about it, but enough to watch from a far and ponder.

but you wanted rafe, and all his attention — which is why you’re sat right up next to him on a couch at some stuffy mansion party, watching him cut coke for one of his friends. youre practically pressed to his side, and he’s barely giving you the time of day, only making you want him more.

the only reason you turned down all those guys was because you only wanted him. even flirty girls like yourself could gain hardcore crushes, and now he was right by your side it felt like it was going nowhere.

“what you want, huh? you after somethin’ free? coke?” he glances at you, simultaneously waving to one of his friends across the room. you pout, not even able to hold his focus. luckily for you, your tipsiness made you more bold. bold and horny.

“m’interested in you.” you thumb at the sleeve of his polo, sulky and childishly begging for his attention. he laughs, eyes creasing at the side and at first you don’t even know if it was directed at you, until he turns his head— dropping the expression to something faux-serious, wide eyes and parted lips.

“oh yeah? me and the 50 other poor suckers you’re stringin’ along?” he teases and you shake your head, watching as his pal lifts his head from snorting the white lines, sliding a wad of cash across the table through the residue. rafe picks it up, starting to count it.

“you know i never actually do anything with those guys…” you defend.

“so i heard.” he turns back to you, cash fanned between two hands. “and you’ve chosen me tonight as your next victim. y’not gonna get so lucky there, sweetheart.”

“why not?” you couldn’t believe how pathetic you sounded, and maybe you were a masochist because something about the way he was the one controlling the conversation instead of you for once felt good.

“‘cus i’m not an idiot.” he folds the cash, pulling a clip out of his pocket and clipping the wad— shoving it deep into his pocket as he sends a parting smile to the customer. “what do you actually— i mean actually want from me?”

you look up at him beneath your lashes, a doll like appearance to your demure pout. damn, he thinks— you’re good at this.

“i’m just attracted to you rafe. wanted to talk to you. if you’re not interested just tell me. no need to embarrass me.”

he stares at you for a moment, and he kind of feels himself feel a little nagging guilt at his chest which he doesn’t appreciate. he sighs, shifting his body a little more towards you and pinches your jaw, making you look at him. it’s not a super rough gesture, but you blink in surprise anyway and the feeling goes straight to your pussy.

“and what’s gonna happen if we go upstairs to talk some more, hm?” he challenges making you swallow hard, never having felt needier for someone you’ve only had around seven fleeting conversations with in your life.

“w—we can get to know eachother and then maybe… can get to know other parts of you…” you admit, somehow shyly despite being such a floozy with other men. it fills him with pride at the fact he’s brought that side out of you, that is if that side is real of course.

he looks down at his crotch and back up at you suggestively. such a boy, you shouldn’t like it this much. “n’what about when i pull it out, huh? y’gonna run away?” he speaks lower, quieter, he’s talking about his dick to you in the middle of this party and you’re stupidly wet.

your lips part, eyes glancing at his mouth like you can’t contain yourself and your throat even trembles with the quietest mewl, relishing in the way his fingers clutch your jaw. “g���nna spit on it. suck on it. whatever you want, rafe…” your voice is airy, desperate. he smirks and lets go.

“alright. we’ll see. i’ll find you, yeah? got some business to attend to.” he gets up, leaving you. rafe cameron was making you work for it.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

[freemansgirl]

cool for the summer

pairing: amber freeman x reader

word count: 1.2k

summary: amber and reader basically get down on vacation in the hotel while reader’s parents are away for a bit

warnings: smut, choking, strapon sex, vibrating strap on, oral sex (reader is receiving), orgasms

a/n: a lil vacay smut for my girl amber bc it fits the summertime vibe rn🤭 enjoy <3

once she heard the sound of your parents leaving the hotel room, amber began to get instantly to work as she sat you on top of the bathroom counter, removing the cover up off of your bikini set. lots of kisses and soft bite marks were spread across your neck skin, each one feeling so sensual and heated, amber needed you.

this whole entire vacation trip with your family has left her feeling pent up sexual frustration that she wanted to let out so bad, but couldn’t. it would be hard for her to make any type of advance on you whether it was romantic or sexual but especially sexual because you two were always around your parents. it’s like you could never really have a moment with her without feeling like her every move is being watched. your parents had no clue what was going on between you and your so called “best friend” amber freeman, your relationship was really secretive between you two.

they simply saw amber as a sweet girl who happened to be a wonderful friend to you; as a result, they asked her to come on the vacation because they admired and loved her for always being there for you. they never thought that she would… so happen to be your girlfriend as well. the way amber stared at you for too long especially at the beach or how she would “accidentally” brush her hand against yours multiple times, when she was helping you bring in your luggage was suspicious to them but they never thought much of it. they just thought of the whole luggage thing as her being a good friend to you, but now that innocent “good friend” look was now gone leaving you two to this whole scene in the hotel bathroom.

she was so glad to actually be able to show some affection towards you, this is what she was waiting for. the temptation of trying not to put her hands on your thighs in the car on the way was hell for her. the “best friend” act was slowly getting unbearable for her to contain because she loved you. you know your girlfriend amber was the touchy feely type too, it hurt her knowing she had to hide this relationship. her eyes kept trailing down to that damn revealing, sexy (favorite color) two piece bikini set that you wore to the beach that made her go feral. since you two and your family left the beach, she's been trying to break you out of that set; at this point she found a way. the moment that your parents left, she took advantage of it.

now, look at your girlfriend, her pale hands roaming all over your body and giving nice squeezes to your ass. you exhale in surprise as she spreads your legs so she can press her hips to the inner part of your thighs and moves them closer to you. your lover’s black strap on was right up on the fabric of your bikini bottom, she stared up at you with the most lustful but excited eyes ever. “pull it down for me, love.” she ordered, which cause you to nod to follow her instructions, the bikini stopping around your ankles. when the black strap touched your damp folds as she aligned herself with your entrance, you let out a groan.

“fuck…..” you whisper causing your (eye color) eyes to widen, the strap on slowly deepening inside of you, you have to grab onto your girlfriend’s wrist to keep yourself grounded. this causes her to laugh at you, while she pushes your hips more into her sex toy. “i’m just getting starting, and you’re already grabbing onto me? i know you can take it like you always do for me.”

you start to lock your legs around her hips, both of your knees on the side of her thighs. you watched her hover over your figure, amber’s forehead is pressing against your very own, eyes both locked on each other. the pace was beginning to change now, she was going at a really fast speed causing you to widen your eyes and let out such breathless yet loud moans, your nails were digging so hard into her back, but not too much to leave a scratch as you didn’t want your parents to suspect where your supposedly “best friend” got them from.

“you’re so fucking irresistible… do you know how long i been waiting to do THINGS to you on this trip?” amber confessed, as she continued with fucking you so much. you were moaning so much from everything that you couldn’t respond as best as you can, but you tried to mutter a response back. “y-yeah, i see the way—“ you let out another breathy moan from another thrust, “you…. look at me all of the time, i been wanting you too….”

then, she grabbed you by your neck to bring you forward to her for a kiss. this kiss was so passionate and fiery, it was filled with so much desirability and neediness. you had your hands on her cheek, caressing her smooth, pale skin then your hands trailed down to her waist. the two of you had a really good makeout session, fighting for dominance in the kiss, but of course, amber won it. eventually, you pulled back once you sensed how fast your girlfriend was going, it felt like it was hard for you to keep up.

“too fast, ambs, too—“ you were now cut off with more slamming into your wet, drenched pretty pussy from your girlfriend’s strap on. amber’s strapping was so good that it was damn near causing your knees to buckle against the tension of how fast she was going. your moaning became pitiful and whining as she continued to stretch you; you tried to beg her to slow down, but the constant pounding of the strap kept cutting you off. you really prayed that your whole session with the dark haired girl finished before your parents came back with tonight’s dinner so they didn’t see you like this.

“oh shut up, you know you enjoy it when i go faster.” amber taunted, grabbing on your thigh to keep you still so you couldn’t resist her. while one of her hands gripped your thigh, the other one was still wrapped around your neck, choking you with more added pressure. your head rolled back, the back of your hair touching the bathroom mirror while you bit your left. you could feel yourself getting more turned on by this than you already are. she wasn’t wrong, even though you did ask her to slow down, you couldn’t lie you loved when she fucked you this fast because she liked fucking you so stupid on her strap. perhaps, it was a good thing that she secretly snuck her strap on inside of her suitcase, she always had a trick up her sleeve.

your girlfriend started looking back at the mirror then at you. you looked so fucking sexy just letting her get her way with you. the black sex toy was vibrating more and more inside of you, and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer. the pressure was getting to you now, your eyes were so needy as your body was about to give out for amber. “go ahead and cum for me, princess.” she whispered, pushing your hair back and giving you a soft kiss to cheek, giving you permission.

once you came all over her, you let out a breathily moan as you felt so good releasing all over her strap. the pressure she had applied on how tight she gripped your hips was now no longer there, her touch is now soft and gentle. she pulled out the strap on from inside of you and pulled you down off of the counter. “you did so amazing, all for me like always, darling.” she sweetly spoke to you, kissed your forehead and brought you in for a hug.

after that, the two of you cleaned up the mess of everything, making sure everything was wiped and disinfecting things. your girlfriend began to grab your hand and looked into your eyes, a gentle expression on her face now before taking you over to the shower. the hot, steamy water waiting for you two to enter as your girlfriend was going to treat you to aftercare to get rid of the smell of sex before your parents came home.

[prettymase]

Meant To Be

NOTES: This fic is completely newly written and I haven’t written in ages but I hope this is good enough. Before you get into it I want you to know that some parts of the fic are quite personal to me and I was contemplating on whether to add or not, but I have included TW warnings. This fic had also been requested by my love @footiehoemcfc I hope you enjoy reading it babe. There will be a part two to this but I wanted to get the first part out first bc I’ve left @footiehoemcfc waiting too long for this 🫶🏼 ✨

WORD COUNT: 4.9k words

TW: mentions of car crash, drunk drivers

You promised yourself that you would never be in this situation.

This is the kind of situation you told your best friends to avoid. It’s basic girl code, telling them not to be stupid in going back to their ex. You know it never ends well. Most of the time anyways.

Most of the time they end up falling for their bullshit and then that causes them hurting even more.

You know right now, you are a dumbass.

Your relationship with Mason ended shortly after Christmas.

It’s bad enough you saw it coming but you didn’t expect it to happen quickly after Christmas as the way he broke up with you, you thought he would want to mend things. Things that haven’t been easy in your relationship the last few weeks. You thought he wanted to apologise for being a dick.

Before the World Cup, you both knew the relationship was falling short. However, you were determined to make it work. No matter how had you tried, you couldn’t afford losing him.

You tried to support him in every way possible. Travelling to Qatar, showing your moral support. You also suggested couples therapy, tried to get him to talk about his feelings he was keeping inside. And everything else that was on the list. Making you feel useless at times.

Mason however, wasn’t having any of it. He liked to feel like he could take care of himself. He knew he was pushing you away and he didn’t want to but this is what it has come to and he can’t stop himself now.

In Qatar, there wasn’t much you could do with him not being able to see everyday with the World Cup consequences. Which you understood. You tried looking at the positives, maybe time apart from you would make him realise how much he misses having you around and helping him out. You thought he would he would take his time to think about how shitty he has been with you the last couple of weeks leading up to the World Cup. To your surprise, it was the complete opposite. Mason came to the conclusion it would be better if the two of you went separate ways.

The night you two broke up, well when he broke up with you, always replayed in your head.

-

“I think we should break up,” Mason started to say, showing no emotion on his face whatsoever.

“What?” you definitely wasn’t expecting this.

He had planned a a nice romantic evening or so you thought. The dinner table was elegantly decorated, with rose petals and candles around the table, with two glasses of wine, which you dismissed because you didn’t feel like drinking.

You thought the best of things, thinking that he’d apologise for his behaviour these last couple of weeks. Instead he did all this to break up with you.

“I want you to know don’t think I don’t love you because I do, it’s just the things that’s happening this season, I can’t love you the same when I’m feeling like shit.”

“You’re having one bad season and you’re throwing me out of your life?!” You asked confusedly and annoyed. “You’ve had problems before but this was never the solution!”

“Y/N you don’t understand. This is my life, I have to try and help and the tea-”

“This is not your life!!” You snapped. “It’s what you do for a living, big difference Mason.”

‘It is now okay?! Everything else seems like a distraction!”

“I’m a distraction? Your girlfriend who has been trying to help you for weeks is a fucking distraction? Are you fucking kidding me?” That hurt. It hurt how little to no appreciation he showed for your effort. The tears that you tried to hold in just fell. Maybe it could’ve been from sadness but now you were just mad.

Mad at him.

“Baby,” he sighed trying to ease the tension. Both of you had arguements before but it was never like this. He’s now thinking of throwing the years you had together, which you thought of convincing him to not to do this but it was useless and once he makes his mind up there’s no going back.

“You have no right to call me that anymore. You’ve clearly made up your mind.” You snapped.

“I’m sorry, okay. I didn’t word that right. But you need to understand me.”

“Understand what? That your job is more important than me and everything else in your life? That all the things I’ve done for you in the past meant nothing? Our relationship was for nothing? And that I mean nothing to you?!” You managed to say In between your sobs that you have been keeping in for too long, and this was your thirteenth reason.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Mason stepped closer to you and tried to hug you which you refused at first, but you always found yourself giving in, in the end. This could be your last hug ever so you wanted to treasure it. Wanted to get close to him. Wanted to smell his aftershave that was lingering on his clothes. Wanted him to run his hands up and down your back for comfort.

All for the last time.

You could feel his tears dropping on your shoulder. This couldn’t have been easy for him too. Although you know he’s doing wrong but you also know the past year hasn’t been the best for him and no matter how much this is hurting you, you also know he’s hurting too. “I’m so sorry, my love. I know you think this is easy to do but i promise you it’s not. I love you so much and if it’s meant to be I’m sure we’ll find our ways back to each other soon.” He pulled away from the hug and held the sides of your face, planting a kiss on your forehead. His lips lingering on your forehead a lot longer than anticipated which relaxed your mind for a second.

“I’m going to go gather my things and go.” You sniffled.

Mason just nodded in response and let you get to it. You go into your shared bedroom, where you gathered most of your things, one thing that made you break down instantly was your scrapbook you made for his 21st birthday. It was his first birthday you celebrated with him and it was special too, so you wanted to make it memorable. You flicked through the book where you come across the first page which was the first picture you took together, him positioned behind you, his head buried in your neck while you looked so happy. The happiest you’ve been in a long while, you forgot what that felt like.

This book was meant to be what you show your future children, but you didn’t get that far ahead. You hesitated in whether to take it or leave it with him. However you decided to take it with you as you felt like he wouldn’t look back at it.

Once you finally got your things together, you looked back at your shared room which was now Mason’s for one last time. The good times you had in there would be looked back at for sure, at least for you anyways.

Mason who was waiting for you to be done was on the sofa, his head in between in his hands. When he saw you were coming out of the room he offered to help with your luggage but you refused.

“You can stay here for a little while once you get sorted out if you want?” Mason mumbled.

“I think it’s too late for that Mase. Thank you though.” You said as you walked to the front door and remembered that his front door key was in your bag which you handed to him. There was a keyring with the photo of the two of you on there. You walked towards the door until you heard Mason speak again.

“Y/n wait a second,” you looked back at him, hoping he would say this is a mistake and he wants to start fresh with you but was that the case? Nope. “Where are you going to go? It’s late. I don’t want you wondering about at this time of night.” He asked genuinely worried for you.

But you couldn’t help but answer coldly as this wasn’t his problem anymore. You weren’t his problem anymore. “You have no right to worry about that anymore. You start your life from scratch and forget what I ever meant to you. If I ever did mean anything to you. Good luck with the future, Mase.” You choked out.

Quickly, you got out of the door but you weren’t sure how much more you could hold your tears in for. Opening the boot to put all of your things in the back before you got into the drivers seat and drove away from his house for the last time.

There was tears streaming down your face the entire journey, luckily you still had your own flat that you didn’t end up getting rid of, but it’s been a while since you been in there so it will be weird at first but you’ll have to get used to it. After all this was your life from now on.

During your journey to your now new (old) home, you looked back on all the positives that your relationship had. For example; when he took you away just because he felt like it that was also when he said ‘I love you’ for the first time and you were wondering what you did to deserve this man. Now you were wondering what you did to deserve the situation he put you in.

‘Where in the relationship did we go wrong?’ You thought. You always thought you made him happy. But clearly not if he felt like he needed to chuck you out of his life like that. You clearly weren’t as important to him as you thought you were.

When you got to your old flat, as soon as you walked through the door, it’s like you were almost looking for a feeling of home come to you. But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that it was Mason who made it feel like home. And now you had to live without him.

You had started talking to Mason in the most weird ways ever, you were going through so much at the time so him coming into your life during the most hardest times of your life you would describe it as was truly a blessing in disguise.

Let’s recap to that day..

-

It was one of those days.

One where you felt like God was never on your side, trying to understand what you did to deserve the last few days of chaos you’ve had.

Eyes closed. Trying to remain calm, steadying your mind and the pace of your breathing.

It had been a long day. You had just come back from the hospital 45 mins ago. No that wasn't your job, your mum had been admitted to hospital after having a traumatic car crash as you'd call it.

On Saturday night she was on the way back from dinner with her friends, until a drunk driver crashed into her and she remained unconscious up until Tuesday morning for a few minutes and remained unconscious again.

When you first got a call from the hospital your first instant reaction was shock and denial because as far as you'd known your mum was all about being a safe driver and she was always scolding you to drive safe. It hadn't settled in until you had seen her. All your emotions started crashing down at once.

You felt a bit helpless and guilty by not being able to do anything to help her, and you were losing hope slowly but deep inside you, you knew your mum will power through this, she's a strong woman after all. After having to raise 6 children when your father left you at a young age deciding that he wanted nothing to do with you, if she could go through that alone, you had hope that she'd get through this.

You couldn't help but feel alone. All your siblings were in their own little bubble and you didn't want to disturb them and you know that they wouldn't care because all of you were all so close but you couldn't help feel like you were burdening them.

All of you were equally upset, each one of them had their own distraction to help not think about this, but you had taken days off to visit your mum during hospital hours and just pour you heart out even though she hadn't had her eyes open you knew she could hear you.

Days prior to this, you had been struggling with your emotions already.

You had given your notice in for work because the environment was becoming so toxic and this guy at work would non stop harassing you until you couldn't take it anymore, mentally it was taking a toll on your mental health. Your ex had gotten back into contact with you repeatedly changing numbers, making different social media accounts to contact you, after numerously blocking him.

Overall you felt like crap, you didn't want to tell your friends about this because you felt like you were asking for sympathy when you didn't want that and you felt like they were all happy within their lives and you didn't want to burst that with your sad feelings.

So you just put a fake smile on your face which was believable to people, and when you were alone tears wouldn't stop flowing.

You hated yourself for not being strong enough.

The peace and quietness lasted about 2 minutes before a message came through your phone. You instantly thought it was someone from the hospital updating you about your mum but this message had confused you even further

Anna?

You most definitely weren't Anna and you most certainly didn't have a date today.

(Imagine you can see the face. Thank you😌)

It was like an addiction messaging each other, you just couldn’t stop. It was flirty banter most of time, he arranged for you to first meet him at a small cafè because he was eager to see you, and this meeting made you feel something for him, even more than you did.

The next meeting you decided to count it as a date, and ever since then you didn’t look back.

He was seriously a blessing in disguise. Your mum was getting better, you got a new job and you couldn’t be more happier that everything finally was starting to fall into place.

-

Over the months since your breakup you tried to forgive and forget; Forgive because he genuinely did have a lot going on and you also knew his passion for football and maybe you just need to find your way back to each other once the time is right. Forgetting about him and what he meant to you was the hardest thing to do.

It’s been five months now since your breakup and not a day goes by without thinking about him. You just had to remind yourself that he’s probably not thinking about you anymore and he’s probably moved on and as much you wanted him to tell you that he wanted you back probably wasn’t the case. Which hurt you deeply thinking about it but if that’s what helps you to move on then so be it.

The first month was incredibly difficult for you, wanting to text him every hour of the day to try and work things out, even though he ended it you wanted him to fight for you, you once thought you meant the whole world to him, and now acted like you were strangers.

His friends had found out about the break up and checked in on you to see how you were doing. They didn’t see it coming, especially Ben, he thought he was head over heels for you and he was always going on about how perfect his relationship is. Ben insisted on talking some sense into him but you refused, not wanting to force his way back to you, you’d much rather him come back to you when he was ready.

Whenever that was.

At this point you were starting to think that it would only happen in your dreams.

You felt a like crap and thought you were being over dramatic, thinking that Mason’s probably isn’t doing the same and moping over this, so over the next two months you tried pushing him out of your mind and start focusing on your mental health and yourself, getting your self love back.

Saffie, Libby and Imogen, who had been your support system since helped you through it and you couldn’t be more grateful. They also were shocked about the break up but as of right now you didn’t care. You had come to terms with that it wasn’t meant to be and you tried convincing yourself that you were fine with it.

When you moved in with Mason, it was difficult to see them, as they lived out of town and at the time things were just getting hectic that you didn’t have the time, even though you hadn’t seen each other for a while you had still kept each other updated on every little detail.

Tonight, you were going on a night out with your girls. It had been a while since you had a girls night and you couldn’t wait because you had missed your girls.

���Cheers!! I want to make a toast to Y/N. I want you to know that you’re the most strongest person I know and you don’t need no mannn that makes you feel like shit!!” Libby screamed through the loud music that was playing at the club, and you all took a sip of your cocktails. You promised to yourself and the girls that wouldn’t cry tonight and so far you were failing but you decided to blink the tears away and have the time of your life with your besties. It’s the least you deserved.

-

You don’t know how you got here but you’re not complaining.

You barely make it inside the house. As soon as you both are nside, you’re kissing, making out against the front door. Pushing him back, desperately wanting more, trying to suck every last drop out of the love that is still left.

You’ve missed him. Missed him so much.

“We shouldn’t do this,” Mason pants, pulling away, framing your face with his hands, and you nod.

“No, but it feels good, doesn’t it?” You say with a grin, that’s all your willpower gone out of the window.

Mason grins at you. Just like he used to; it’s just like it used to be.

“Fuck yes. Let’s go upstairs.”

You knows this will only hurt you in the morning but you can’t resist, you’ve missed him, missed how he feels, how he tastes. And all that matters right now is that your legs are wrapped around Mason’s waist and the way he groans when you push yourself into him.

Fuck, it feels good.

It’s not a long, drawn out fuck, no changing positions, no words. It’s not hasty either, but it’s desperate, both of them fighting for the perfect angle, chasing their release, needing it.

Still, it’s loving. The way Mason’s hand is in the exact right spot on your back, the way they kiss, breathlessly moaning into each others mouths. And the way they lock eyes, reading each other’s faces.

They’ve done this many times - spent so many nights entangled, making each other moan and pleasuring themselves. They know this, every part of it is familiar.

It happens too quickly, but you wouldn’t have the strength to prolong it anyways. It’s too much, there is not a single clear thought in your head as you kiss Mason through his climax.

“It will hurt more tomorrow,” Mason whispers when you pull him closer under the blanket. You know he’s not just talking about you aching. His tone is soft, laced with a shadow of a sorry, his hand gently stroking your arm, the gesture putting you to sleep.

-

When you woke up it was around four AM you weren’t surprised to find yourself sleeping next to someone but you couldn’t pinpoint on who it was as you were too drunk and didn’t remember a single thing about your one night stand as you rarely have them, silently cursing yourself for drinking too much.

This room seemed familiar to you though, you don’t know if your mind was playing tricks on you or if it was actually familiar to you. That was until the person next to you turned to face you, still asleep and you were met with none other than Mason.

You shot up at the exact second, accidentally waking up Mason doing so. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Let’s get back to sleep yeah?” Mason says in a sleepy voice but you were still in a state of shock of how this happened, you were about to reply until you turned around to face him to see him asleep again.

How did you let this happen.

You went downstairs to compose yourself with a glass of water and watched your reflection on his window.

‘You stupid idiot. Why did you do this to yourself?’ You thought. The more you thought about everything that had happened last night, how much you missed him touching you, kissing you, tears were forming because it just wasn’t fair that he was making you feel like this.

In the middle of your thoughts, Mason entered the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around your waist, buried his face in your neck, kissing it repeatedly. “Baby, why are you here? It’s 4am,” he whispered in your ear. You were just staring blankly outside at his patio, tears threatening to fall. Your lip started wobbling.

How could you be so dumb? He starts seducing you whilst drunk and it worked so easily he had you right where he wanted. You were never that girl to have one night stands, but this one felt like one because you knew what Mason’s decision was.

“Listen, you were drunk. We both had a little too much to drink. I saw you in the club alone, I don’t know where your friends were and you looked like you had a little too much to drink. I offered to take you home but you mentioned you left your keys with Imogen because you know how clumsy you can be and lose them. So I took you back to mine and I don’t know how it happened but there was sexual tension in the air and we both started kissing and one thing led to another, but I want you to know it doesn’t mean anything to me.” Mason said so confidently.

You needed a moment to hear the last sentence alone, but you wanted him to think that were coping well without him because he had moved on and somehow you needed to do the same, but after last night it’s become hard again. It’s like having sex with him has brought your feelings back again but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t feel the same about you anymore, even though when you broke up he told you that he’ll always love you. You guessed that was lie.

You wanted it to mean something to him, you wanted him to ask for you back. You wanted him to fight for you.

Which will only happen in your dreams by the looks of it.

You wondered if he ever loved you? Now you just believed what your negative thoughts were telling you.

“I’m going to get my stuff and leave,” you said with a lump in your throat and glossy eyes.

Mason saw the expression on your face and was the sick of the sad expression you had on your face and he snapped, “Okay. Don’t expect me to stop you then. I have moved on.”

It’s like this was a different man in front of you, you don’t remember getting to know this guy, you don’t remember falling in love with him. The Mason you remember falling in love with wouldn’t let you go without a fight. You weren’t going to let him treat you like this so you snapped back. “Yeah because you sleeping with me last night really tells me that you’ve moved on doesn’t it?” You rolled your eyes.

“It was a mistake! I told you, I was drunk, you were drunk, one thing led to another and it’s a regret of mine now letting you think that you’ll ever get close to me again. Maybe, just maybe if you weren’t so needy all the damn time we could’ve given this a second chance.” Mason frustratedly said, with what he said, sounded like you hurt him, when he was the one to break up with you. It just didn’t make any sense to you.

You wished he hadn’t pushed you away. You pushed past Mason to get your things, not wanting to stay here a minute longer.

Mason stayed quiet, knowing what he said was wrong but in the heat of the moment it just came out. Once you came out of his room and got your things ready, you walked out his front door whilst he watched you leave.

-

It had been two nights since that night you encounter with Mason, you started thinking outside of box and tried moving on as he had, it was lot harder than you thought it would be. Maybe because the Mason you saw two nights ago was a completely different person in front of you.

Maybe if you went on a few dates it would help? You thought.

You never did see yourself separating from Mason, but that’s how things currently were and you had to accept that. You decided to scroll on Twitter for bit and what first came up on suggested posts surprised you a little because you weren’t expecting that when you opened the app.

To say you were more than hurt to see how he’s moved on quickly, but also you were convinced that the paparazzi make things worse from what they were. You experienced it when you were with Mason, so part of you were hoping that this girl pictured with him was just a friend but looking at the picture it was telling you something else.

You know it has been more than a few months that you’ve broken up now but a part of you wasn’t ready to let go. But you always promised yourself that if you saw Mason happy with another person you would be happy for him no matter how much it hurt you inside and you weren’t going to ruin his happiness.

That’s if this article was true.

Now you needed to move on because it seemed like Mason wasn’t going to come back to you by the looks of things and you need to accept that.

-

Mason didn’t know how to feel when the paparazzi photos came out, first of all the pictures were completely misleading to what they actually were.

He wasn’t on a date.

The only thing he was doing was playing Cupid, and setting this girl up with his mate, Ben. When Mason spotted Y/N on a night out with her friends, he was with Ben and a few of his other friends. This girl caught Ben’s attention but he was too much of a scaredy cat to go up to her. He thought he missed his chance.

That was until, the girl, Chloe, reached out to Mason on DMs and asked if they could meet to talk things through. He knew Ben wouldn’t dare to ask her outright, so they planned to call it a ‘blind date’ because Chloe actually had her eyes on Ben and it turns out that when she was about to go up to him that night he had disappeared, she couldn’t find him but she also knew Mason was good friends with Ben so she’s shooting her shot the long way.

Mason still deeply loved Y/N, he only said he moved on because he wanted Y/N think he’s doing okay without her. He really doesn’t know why he started pushing her away, and he regrets it because all he wanted know is Y/N between his arms. He would do everything for their relationship to be normal again, but instead he had to fuck it up.

Mason won’t be stupid enough to lose you again at any given chance. He was already stupid enough to know what life was like without you and he’s not risking that again.

He knew he needed to fix this.

—

taglist: @chilwellspulisic

[sungstars]

how riize lost their virginities

- anton , he didn’t… he’s either waiting till marriage or he just has no plans too anytime soon, he has no reason too but i heavily feel like he is, he gives off virgin energy im sorry

sohee - he experimented with boys but he hasn’t actually lost it yet

wonbin - he prolly put it in someone but he didn’t like the experience (wonbin asexual king),

sungchan - def had sex multiple times prolly even did it with other idols, he’s too bad

eunseok - he prolly only did it once or twice once he was like 20 but he doesn’t see the need to constantly have sex more than a few times. year, only when he’s rlly rlly rlly horny

seunghan - he’s def fucking girl he prolly fucking RIGHT NOWWWW… i feel like he the type to make u do crazy things just bc the dick is thatttt good like

shotaro - it’s obvious he’s had sex. it’s nothing wrong with duality like ik he has a cute personality but like he’s wayy too skilled with every part of his body (esp his hips) to not be putting it to good use

i’m screaming like this made me laugh out loud when i was checking this blog on my break.. oh this made my day in the best way possible. let’s talk about it. i definitely got a bit off topic in most of these!

content warning: talking about sex, loss of virginity minors dni

anton… well yes! i just think he might not have found the right person to have sex with. i dont think marriage is something that he’s particularly waiting for. if it’s how that works out, for sure! i think that he’s just waiting for the right person that he can trust with something so intimate. i dont think he would be the person to slut himself out, but also i think that would be super yummy if he did. i love thinning about anton with a huge dick and doesn’t know how to use it. he’s definitely a hands on learner so it would be quite interesting having sex with him. he probably would accidentally push all the way in because he got lost in pleasure and apologize for it. 100% virgin but after he loses it… a bitch in heat!

sohee… THIS ONE MADE ME LAUGH IN A GOOD WAY LIKE OH I GET IT SOOO BAD. sohee has definitely experienced sexual interactions with boys. make out with a boy? hell do it. go down on one of his members? yeah he’s done it! but fucking a girl? not yet! they make him soooo nervous. i think sohee has plenty of girls who wanna fuck him… he’s just probably super nervous thinking about it because he wouldn’t know what to do even if it was in his face. i think once he found somebody who would takes their time and guide him through it, he would be ready to sleep with a woman! but it just hasn’t happened yet.

wonbin… i fear that i have to disagree. i think wonbin be fucking just not that often! he gets these spurts of where he wants to fuck any and everybody, but after he feels satisfied, it’ll be a good little bit before he wants to have sex again. i think wonbin is a bisexual king who isn’t picky about gender when it comes to sexual or romantic partners. just my honest opinion about it though! i personally just think that he does fuck a lot of people when he feels up to it! well.. i dont think he has to put it in to have fun. he lovesss foreplay. fingering & oral (giving & receiving), dry humping, handjobs, literally tweak his nipples, sloppy make out session and bite him.. that’s probably what he prefers more so than actual sex.

sungchan… definitely think he’s experienced. i’m not saying he’s easy but if you’re pretty and ask him to fuck… he’s definitely not saying no. sungchan lost his virginity and didn’t look back since. the first time he had sex, his partner was genuinely surprised because she thought he was a virgin? he was!! sungchan is just naturally good at sex and probably also took some notes from amateur porn on twitter. sungchan is definitely a man of pleasure and would prefer to take care of his partner before he takes care of himself. a selfless lover if you will.

eunseok… mm i fear i have to disagree slightly. i think eunseok gets down because he’s a freak nasty bitch. however, i think he prefers to keep it to one partner like anton. eunseok started out as a freak weirdo loser (in a hot way) so when he lost his virginity, he was completely lost and the girl definitely was confused because she thought eunseok would know what to do! looks can be deceiving. however now, i think because he knows what he’s doing, he definitely does fuck somebody frequently!

seunghan… definitely gets down the most out of all of them. i think seunghan is like eunseok & anton in regards to having just one partner instead of sleeping around / seeing multiple people. i think he’s also a freak nasty guy who knows how to use his dick. definitely has girls crazy over him because of how good his dick game is. while i think he has fun fucking, i definitely can see him like wonbin where he likes foreplay. i also think he can be a bit of a selfish lover! sometimes he focuses more so om pleasure than his partner , but when he realizes that’s what he’s doing hell definitely make up for it!

shotaro… FREAKKKKK. FREAK. NASTY. FREAKY NASTY. shotaro gets DOWNNNNN. shotaro has bitches lined up for every day of the week if he feels up to it. his cute persona is a TRAP. you think he’s super goofy and silly, which he is! but in bed he’s fucking nasty as fuck. gag on it! choke on it! cry! hell spit in your mouth and choke you out. shotaro gets down and always leaves somebody wanting more. too bad he doesn’t really see the same person more than twice if he can help it!

end!

[papercorgiworld]

When friends help you get the girl

A Remus Lupin love story

Remus struggles to ask you out and James tries to help. When Remus doesn't want to tell you he's a werewolf Sirius takes the blame. And Peter makes sure you spend some extra time together.

Not really a request, but I got two Remus related asks and I took that as a hint. First time writing for Remus, so I hope I did it right. Furthermore, atm I'm not working through my request chronological bc I was in the mood for a few short things, before I start on the bigger ones. Anyways, I hope you likey and per usual happy readings!

Warning: none, a bit flirty at the end

I. James intervenes

Remus was staring, no, he was ogling you as you walked in front of him and James snickers at his love struck friend. “Mate, you gotta stop staring and just talk to her.” Remus looks absolutely horrified at his friend’s advice. “Yeah, that might work for you, but I’m not doing that.” Remus argues and James chuckles. “So what’s your plan of action then? Stare at her… and hope for what?” Remus sighs. “I’m not staring… and nothing has to happen.” Remus drags his eyes away from you embarrassed at James' accusation. A mischievous smirk tugs on James’ lips as Remus’ eyes land back on you when you laugh at something Marlene says. Without Remus catching on James’ hand moves to his wand and he casts a little spell that causes a soft breeze to lift up your skirt, making you yelp and turn around. 

You notice Remus, who’s just smiling at you like a fool, and James who’s pointing at Remus telling you he’s the culprit. You frown at Remus and only then Remus realises James is pointing at him. Remus’ face fills with panic and he takes a step towards you. “No, no, it wasn’t me.” James laughs and Remus gets even more flustered. You grab your wand and James realises it’s time for him to run, leaving you with Remus. “I know it wasn’t you. I know you.” You reassure Remus as he watches James run around a corner, but he quickly looks back at you. “You do?” Remus asks, surprised by your answer since the two of you haven’t talked a lot. You smile at Remus’ surprised look. “Yes. Some people you just know from the moment you meet them.” The beautiful and genuine smile on your lips makes Remus relax. 

***

Remus returns to the common room and spots a grinning James sitting next to Peter and Sirius. “So, when’s the date, mate?” Remus chuckles at his friend’s question. “No date. We just talked. She is still after you for what you did by the way.” Sirius and Peter aren’t impressed and James just looks annoyed with Remus. “I took a risk blowing her skirt like that, but I took that risk because I thought you would take your chance and ask her out.” Remus gets flustered, because now everyone’s staring at him. “Guys, I’m not asking her out.” Sirius huffs. “Lame.” Peter shakes his head in disappointment and James looks almost mad, but they decide to drop the subject.

II. Sirius takes the blame

You had your suspicions. The injuries and always after a full moon, and there was also the nickname Moony, but you were sure when you had overheard the four friends whisper about werewolves. However, when you asked subtle questions hoping Remus would tell you something he always changed the subject or denied it, lying to your face how nothing was going on.

You had been understanding up until now, but today you’d had enough. As soon as Lily told you that Remus was in the hospital wing again you marched over there. Not to say you looked angry, but people moved aside when they saw you approaching.

When you spot Remus laying in bed all bruised and cuts on his face you calm down a little, not wanting to yell at him since he’s hurt, so you decide to play it smart. Unaware of you approaching, Remus laughs at something Sirius is joking about. “Hi.” You announce yourself with a sweet voice and Remus looks up startled to see you were here again for him. You had visited him every time he had ended up there and every time he had to come up with a lame excuse. She must think I’m the clumsiest guy alive. Ugh, I’ve got to come up with a better excuse. Something tough and manly. Remus smiles. “Hi.” You take a seat on his bed and grab his hand. “Tripped and fell down the stairs again?” You ask with a concerned voice and Sirius struggles to hide a chuckle, making your eyes dart to him for a second, before focussing on Remus again. Remus swallows and scans the room searching for a good excuse, when his eyes land on Sirius. “I got in a fight with Sirius.” He suddenly blurs and Sirius looks absolutely horrified at the accusation. 

You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow. “You got in a fight… with Sirius?” Remus nods, thinking his answer has you thinking he’s a strong tough guy, but you're not impressed by his lying nor his lame excuse. “So Sirius beat you up? But now your friends again?” Your eyes move between both Gryffindors and both nod hesitantly. Your eyes widen at their act and amused you cross your arms. “Why?” Remus shakes his head at your question. “What do you mean why?” You narrow your eyes at Remus. “Why did you two idiots fight?” You clarify and Remus frowns as he tries to come up with an answer. Worst liar ever. You roll your eyes. “Sirius got drunk.” Remus suddenly yells, happy he found an explanation. You frown and look over at a shocked Sirius, who then turns to you staring for a few seconds before picking up on the act. “Yeah. Sooo drunk. And then I punched him hard. And threw him off the stairs.” A nervous chuckle leaves Sirius and you sigh.

“Remus! Stop lying!” You yell suddenly and Sirius takes a step back in surprise. Remus’ smile falls as he realises he was fooling himself thinking you would fall for the stupid lie. “Fine you figured it out.” Remus admits and you sigh relieved that he’s done lying. “I have been keeping a secret… I’m... an animagus.” Your eyes turn stern and sigh annoyed with him. “No Remus, you’re a werewolf.” You state and look to meet his eyes, but he avoids your gaze, feeling ashamed of what he is and also because he was caught in a lie. You shake your head with sad eyes. “Why would you keep something so big from me? You know me, I would never judge you for something like that.” Sirius slowly and quietly moves back, giving the two of you space.

Remus sighs defeated and he knows he has to admit everything, you deserve the truth. “I know we would still be friends, but I don’t want to be just your friend. I wanted to be the perfect guy… for you.” He still doesn't dare meet your eyes, but you continue to watch him. “Remus.” You whisper and smile, leaning a bit closer. “You are perfect. And not despite being a werewolf, but because you are one.” Your statement makes him meet your eyes, confused about what you’re trying to say. “Your compassion, your strength, your loyalty, your gentleness towards everyone and everything is because of who you are as a whole and what you live through. I think every scar makes you look even more pure and perfect.”

There’s a silence as Remus processes your words, but you mistake this silence for rejection. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t enough, when you are more than I can wish for.” At those words Remus closes the last bit of space between you two and hesitantly he opens his mouth. “No, no. I was being a coward, you’ve been nothing but good to me and you make me so happy. Please. I should’ve been honest with you. I just- I-.” Feeling encouraged by his words, you reach for his shaky hands. “Kiss me, Remus.” You whisper and his heart stops beating for a few seconds, before he nods making you smile as he nervously moves so his nose gently brushes yours, before your lips meet for a tender kiss.

III. Peter has a plan

At the Hufflepuff party certain Gryffindors are up to no good. “Ingenious!” James whispers excited with Peter’s plan. “This will definitely work.” Sirius adds, making you and Remus frown as you approach the trio. “What are you up to?” You ask, making them jump and turn around with guilty faces. “Up to?” Sirius asks immediately followed by James saying “Nothing.” to which Remus narrows his eyes at Peter who smiles “Good.”. You roll your eyes and look at Remus. “Let’s get a drink.” The three guilty guys give the two of you an awkward thumbs up as you walk away chuckling. “Your friends are idiots.” You joke and Remus raises his brows. “Tell me about it.”

***

“Spin the bottle!” Someone yells and even though you hadn’t seen Peter, James or Sirius since you arrived they suddenly appeared out of nowhere and forced you both to participate in the silly game. “(y/n) begins.” Peter urges, pointing at the bottle in front of you. You’re hesitant because you really aren’t in the mood to kiss anyone that isn’t your boyfriend, but you give in to peer pressure anyway and spin the bottle. You’re overjoyed when it lands on Remus and you instantly shuffle a little closer to your flustered boyfriend. You loved how in public he would still get nervous around you and you bite your lip adoring his sweet smile as you go stand on your tiptoes.

However, your sweet moment is ruined when Peter and Sirius push you. “That way, both of you. No need to do that business when you’re in public.” You notice James holding a door open and signalling for you to get in the room. “I thought we were playing spin the bottle.” Remus argues confused as his friends guide the both of you to the room. “We’re playing the extended version.” Sirius explains. “Yes, 70 minutes in heaven.” Peter adds and you frown at the number. “It’s 7 minutes.” You correct and Peter snorts. “No, 70 is better, no need to rush things. It’s your first time, so take your time.” Your mouth drops, but you’re already in the room and with a grin James closes the door and locks it. Stunned, you turn on your heels to face your boyfriend who’s nervously biting his thumb. “I might’ve told them that we hadn’t gotten around to… uhm, things.”

You raise your brows and smile. “You told… Sirius, James and Peter that we haven’t had sex yet and you expected them to be normal about it.” Remus chuckles nervously. “Their stupid is affecting me.” You laugh at his innocent face and he takes a step towards you, cupping your cheek. “I’m so sorry you have to put up with them.” You meet his lips, kissing him tenderly. “You are worth all the trouble they cause.” Your forgivingness is met with a sweet kiss. “I love you.” Remus whispers and you happily wrap your arms around his neck. “I love you too.” His hands move to your hips pulling you closer, brushing his lips over yours again. “We are stuck here for 70 minutes…” You whisper, lips barely removed from his. “I’m sure we can break the spell.” Remus says, eyes moving towards the door, thinking of possible spells. “Yeah, the stupid is definitely rubbing off on you.” You roll your eyes and it takes Remus only a few seconds to catch on. 

“Did I just accidently reject my girlfriend?” He asks with a slight panic in his voice and you give him an obvious look. “You better make this up to me.” You tease and Remus grins. “Don’t mind if I do.” In an instant his lips are back on yours, hands exploring every curve of your body.

Wordcount: 1928