#member: JWW

[camandemstudios]

camandemstudios Seventeen TA collab taglist

@woozidanisms @haneulparadx @aaniag @intoanothermind @abibliolife

@thepoopdokyeomtouched @jnginlov @chanichanvhan

@baalkoo @odevote118 @jenowithjaem @Scoupsjin @dreamsbloomout

@asyre @hopelessromanticbella @tacosandbitch @mankidoll @wonhannie

@vlbi @cookiearmy @lllucere @soonsgrl @leemoonna

@beautifully-excused @futuristicenemychaos @bobathi @tigerhoshii @dxntletmegxyoonie

@lukeys-giggle @z0mh0lic @shiannprincess101 @dawgyeom @coffeesweetx

@milkyruins @leticiaesteveslp @idk13me @quiescentlyme @monamipencil

@bspoju @ahuiahoe @min-has-trusttissues @atinyinateezverse @cowboydk

@avocifera @allieyaaa @chrollo-s-princess @sourkimchi @gyukissr

@impossiblecollectivekoala @wqnwoos @ourkivee @wondrousies

@cheoliehansoliereblogs @svtrightherekids @weakformingyu @kwonshiho @sarabencze

@wwjagabeee @taesungx @moonjeonhui @black-swan-blog27 @leahhhher

@gyuguys @c-oupsie @nahyuckism @bittersweet-folder @hyeisssante

@variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lizza2001 @svteensworld @leigh-darling @roidagobertlvr

@Sheilogreen @livinlikelarry2934 @napipope-ta @awritersescape

endpoint

Pairing: Jean Wonwoo x f!reader

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

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

Length: ~19.5k

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

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

collab m.list || m.list

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

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

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

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

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

“Me first,” you whisper back. 

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

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

[09:48] You:  be nice

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

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

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

[09:48] wonwoo: from what?

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

[09:49 ]wonwoo : i wouldn’t kill them

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

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

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

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

[09:50] You: oh?

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

[09:50] wonwoo: nice ass

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

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

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

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

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

“I have work until eleven.”

“After?”

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

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

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

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

It’d been…not good. 

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

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

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

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

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

The application website stares back from your laptop with horror. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not drunk,” he argues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“May he rest in peace.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

True.

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

Even truer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sleep when I’m done with this.”

“And what is ‘this’ exactly?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“F-fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bitch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, so do I,” you argue.

“I know. This is bullshit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But now that’s over.

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

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

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

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

“So do I,” Wonwoo argues, eyes cold.

“Fine.”

That recommendation is mine.

“Fine!”

We’ll see about that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

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

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

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

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

“No,” you spit like a curse.

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

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

“I’m sleeping.”

“On the couch?” 

“Yep.”

“You’re too tall.”

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

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

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

“No.”

“No?”

“No. N. O.”

Fine.

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

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

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

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

“You’re too tall to sleep here.”

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

“No,” you huff.

“No?”

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

“You’re being ridiculous.”

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

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

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

“You’re being ridiculous.”

You do the mature thing and bite him. 

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

You do it again.

“Stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here, everything is uncomplicated.

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

“Are you okay?”

Wonwoo groans and curses, cradling his elbow.

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

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

“Yes. You. Lots of times.”

“Good. Wanna make sure you’re aware.”

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

“We can’t sleep like this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have mercy,” you whimper.

“Then get your ass in bed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It makes the urge to cry that much worse.

The rain is gone by morning. 

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

“Morning.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you can’t.

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

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

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

“We can’t.”

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

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

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

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

“Stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

“Good!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you call.

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

“You did.”

“But—”

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

And then you're alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guess.” You tilt your chin, cocky.

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

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

“Dangerous words.”

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

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

He still hasn’t kissed you.

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

“Mingyu thought you were Socrates.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh please, I feel your boner.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why is your boyfriend moping?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Turn around.”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m shaking in my toga.”

“And you call me a loser.”

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

“Yeah, yeah. Take your panties off.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When you almost got us killed?”

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

“Do it again.”

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

“Because—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Answer the question.”

“I hope not.”

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

“It’s our last Halloween party.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought he was an idiot.”

“He is but he’s good for blackmail.”

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

“We can’t sleep here.”

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

“You’re hiding in your room with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t.

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

“Why would you do that?”

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

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

“Yes, I am,” you emphasize. 

“You’re a bad liar.”

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

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

“Too much caffeine will kill you.”

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

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

“Is this penance?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“After?”

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

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

“Are you trying to bribe your way in?”

“Is it working?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You made that pretty clear.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You and Wonwoo.”

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

“What about me and Wonwoo?”

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

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

“No.”

“Oh, I thought—”

“We’re just friends.”

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

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

“‘Huh’ what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you guys are always together.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want to drown in it.

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

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

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

But it can’t be.

“Then we should end this.”

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

“What?” he says.

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

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

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

“You think I’d hate you?” 

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

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

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

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Your voice pinches in your throat.

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

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

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

“That wasn’t—” you shake your head.

“It’s fine. I’ll get over it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Other people notice too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you repeat again.

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

“So what does this mean?”

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

“But we haven’t even—”

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

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

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

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

Wonwoo still hasn’t let go of your hand.

“Did that just happen?” he asks.

“What the fuck.”

“What the fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me finish.”

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

“You love me?”

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

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

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

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

“What the hell was that for?” 

He does it again.

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

“Whatever, you love me.”

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

“Why are you crying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning to me,” you sigh.

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

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

“I’ll catch you up, don’t worry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re annoying.”

“You love me.”

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

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

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

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

“Don’t stop,” you grunt. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Roll over,” you pant.

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

“Make love to me,” you croon.

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

“What happened to sloppy I love you sex?” 

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

“Love it.” 

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

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

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

“I love you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you’re not done yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Know anyone interested?”

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

“Who?”

“Me.” 

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

“A-about?”

Everything.

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

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

“Can’t last—” he chokes.

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

4 months later…

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

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

The big envelope in the mail today helped too.

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe.”

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

“What’s that?”

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

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

“You don’t have a cat.”

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

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” you confirm.

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

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

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

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

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts

@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially

@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

@lukeys-giggle @aaa-sia @tinkerbell460

[nonuify]

ᝰ.ᐟ — JWW ⟢ nerdy boyfriend

› nsfw & sfw is included ┆ smut & fluff — mdni ꩜.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who gets so excited when you let him talk about his favorite games & characters.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who you could get lost in his adorable boba eyes which are protected by his cute squared glasses.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who gets all giddied up & happy when you agree to tagalong with his gameplay.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who gets flustered & embarrassed when you get him a cat ear headset but actually really likes it in secret.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who pays attention to every detail of you, & remembers every little thing.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who makes sure in minecraft yours & his beds are next together he will sulk if you move it.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who has you as his wallpaper in all of his devices ( ps he has a pic of you in his wallet ).

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who is really shy & socially awkward at first of your relationship but is really clingy & energetic with you after some time.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who lets you make him wear a “my s/o is hotter than you” t-shirt.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who is the black cat in your relationship while you are an orange cat.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who isn’t actually a nerdy boyfriend all the time but is a hot motorcycle boyfrie :p.

༘⋆ nsfw part here.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who isn’t so shy when he’s splitting you open with his cock.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who actually has a secret dick frenulum piercing on the pinkish colored head of his lengthy member, making you each time shiver when his slides his cock in you feeling the tiny cold metal slowly enter your hole.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who makes you cockwarm him as a punishment for being a brat while he’s playing his beloved videogames & totally ignoring your whining.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who has you giving him a blowjob while he’s on live, while thousands of people watching & he’s just sitting there playing & watching your pretty teary eyes when you take his cock like a champ.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who’s so pussy-drunk that he eats you out with his glasses, & it goes so lopsided that he throws the specs in frustration, making him just wanting to focus on going down on you.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who makes you play a game with him, both agreeing on a prize if one of you wins & when wonwoo won he grabbed your hips & pushed your head down on the couch, taking you from the back till your a crying mess.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who absolutely has a soft spot when you moan out “wonnie” in desperation of seeking your high while he fucks you so good :(.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who has a thing for fucking you in your local library.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who soaks your panties while teasing your aching pussy by rubbing his hardened dick on them.

.ᐟ nerdy boyfriend wonwoo who is actually very possessive of you, & isn’t afraid of showing everyone who you belong to by fucking you in the nearest bathroom.

! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ thank you for reading >ᴗ< !! [ divders by @/ cafekitsune. ] [ tysm @/ whipped-for-kpop-fics w helping me for some of the ideas ! ].

[jinkoh]

neighbors, remember?

sunwoo x gn!reader

tags: tiny little chat fic thing, soccer player!sunwoo, highschool au, childhood friends, secret relationship of sorts, highkey tsundere!sunwoo, feat. some members as sunwoo's teammates, one random vine reference at the end that i hope someone is gonna get lol, tw: bullying; SFW

click to read bc the pictures vary in size (i swear i tried my best but i'm also just some tired girlie yanno)

a/n: second time i've ever made fake texts and it was lowkey a pain hdjhkjh also there is a random fictional guy in sunwoo's soccer gc bc i couldn't let the members be mean--so if you're confused about who jww is dw he is no one lol

masterlist

masterlist ♡ pls consider reblogging if you enjoyed this ♡

[friendswithclay]

“Jar with figural decoration

From Karanog, grave 566

Meroitic Period (C. 100 B.C.E.-300 C.E.)

Ceramic and paint, h. 34 cm (13 3/8 in.)

Coxe Expedition, 1908 E818

From a grave in the large Meroitic cemetery at Karanog, this vividly painted jar was part of a set of funerary goods belonging to one of the elite members of Meroitic society. A frieze of foraging giraffes is painted in the midsection and one of undulating snakes around the upper body. Pottery was mass-produced in Nubia by Meroitic times, but its often vibrant and original decoration shows that ceramics were an important avenue of artistic expres-sion. Meroitic pottery contrasts markedly with the drab, utilitarian pottery used in Egypt during the same period.

The Meroites decorated their pottery with an inventive blend of uniquely Nubian, Egyptian, and Greco-Roman themes. This example is one of a number of jars from the Karanog cemetery with a giraffe motif. During Meroitic times, giraffes were not found in the arid environs of Lower Nubia but much farther south, in the savanna lands of southernmost Nubia. The clumsy appearance of the animals on the Meroitic jars suggests that the artists had never seen a living giraffe.

- JWW”

[outofconcheol]

key:

a = angst, f = fluff, s = smut, c = crack

© outofconcheol 2023 [do not AI train/copy/repost/translate]

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : s.coups

|◁ II ▷| stay tuned!

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : jeonghan

|◁ II ▷| stay tuned!

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : joshua

|◁ II ▷| stay tuned!

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : jun

|◁ II ▷| stay tuned!

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : hoshi

|◁ II ▷| stay tuned!

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : wonwoo

bloodline (jww x f!reader) |a,s, f| - vampire professor!Wonwoo x TA!reader, TBD (read the teaser here!)

|◁ II ▷| Cursed to a solitary existence, Wonwoo seeks a cure for his condition - enlisting the help of his diligent teacher's assistant. However, you refuse to let Professor Jeon go through with the cure without first teaching him the wonders of having something worth living for. When your tired souls find solace in your shared loneliness, friendship (and something more) blooms. But what happens when that isn’t enough? When the secrets that both you and Wonwoo have been harboring finally catch up to you? Will you and Wonwoo make the most of every moment, or will the aftermath of his quest leave you both even lonelier than before?

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : woozi

|◁ II ▷| stay tuned!

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : dk

|◁ II ▷| stay tuned!

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : mingyu

|◁ II ▷| stay tuned!

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : the8

Between The Mountains And The Sea (XMH x GN!Reader) |a,f| - detective!minghao, sort-of mystery au, 2.3k

|◁ II ▷| In the seaside city, the ebb and flow of the tides is as constant as the presence of tragedy in Minghao’s life. Until one day, the tides bring him you.

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : seungkwan

|◁ II ▷| stay tuned!

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : vernon

|◁ II ▷| stay tuned!

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : dino

|◁ II ▷| stay tuned!

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : multi-member

|◁ II ▷| stay tuned!

[sanussy]

Navigation

Here you can find a navigation of all my tags for all the fandoms I reblog! If a link doesn't work please let me know and I will fix it ASAP

All group and member tags are under the cut! Basics are above the cut

Basic Key:

♡: fluff

☆: smut

♤: angst

◇: crack

♧: faves

Gender/pairing tags:

¤ fem

¤ male

¤ afab

¤ amab

¤ gn

¤ x reader

¤ mxm

Genre/genre warning tags:

□ Comfort

□ hurt comfort

□ hurt no comfort

□ multiverse/fantasy au

□ history au

□ college au

□ canon compliant

□ one shot

□ drabble

□ fic

□ series masterlist

□ author masterlist

Ateez: 🦋 khj, 🍓 psh, 🐶 jyh, 👑 kys, ⛰️ cs, 🐺 smg, 🦊 jwy, 🐻 cjh, 🏴‍☠️ ateez

Seventeen: 🍒 csh, 😇 yjh, 🦌 jh, 😼 wjh, 🐯 ksy, 🐱 jww, 🍚 ljh, ⚔️ lsm, 🐶 kmg, 🐢 hvc, 🍊 bsk, 🦦 lc, 💎 seventeen, 🧓 hyung line, 👶 maknae line, 🎤 hip hop unit, 🎶 vocal unit, 🕺 perf unit

Others groups: I use first and last name for any other kpop groups! (ie; johnny suh, jake sim)

Pairing tags: For any member x member works or for fics that involve two or more "love interests", I will use ship name pairing tags (ie; woosan, yungi, verkwan)

Other fandoms: for any other fandoms, i do the characters first and last name as well as the fandom itself! (ie; aemond targaryen (hotd), kate bishop (marvel) )

Fandoms I may read for: marvel, dc, house of the dragon, the witcher, star wars

[allthingstaekook]

my cute, cinnamon roll baby needs all the love in the world. ٩(`ω´٩ ) please love and support jeon wonwoo of seventeen 🍀🌹 (and while you’re there u might as well share your love and support with the other 12 yaknow?) ¬᎑¬

[bibinnieposts]

➸ SEVENTEEN : imagines + headcanons

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ all members ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ see linked post here!!

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ hyung line ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ love languages 

♡ romantic gestures

♡ terms of endearment

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ maknae line ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ romantic gestures

♡ terms of endearment

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 95 line ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ how they love

♡ lost & confused

♡ you give me sixteen

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 96 line ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ nothing here yet!!

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 97 line ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ cozy and cared for

 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 98+99 line ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ nothing here yet!!

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ hiphop unit ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ love languages

♡ scenes of serenity

♡ little things about being in a relationship with them

♡ as college boyfriend

♡ how they interact with your sticky notes

♡ hand holding

♡ s/o with another member’s photocard

♡ you pampering them + they’re pretending to be asleep

♡ cute things bf! svt’s s/o does

♡ how will they react around their crush

♡ they’re too tall so you kiss their neck instead

♡ action they did that made your heart flutter while you two are just friends

♡ when you kiss them then run away

♡ how they know that they have truly fallen in love with you

♡ ‘this one’s for you’

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ performance unit ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ love languages

♡ little things about being in a relationship with them

♡ as college boyfriend

♡ how they interact with your sticky notes

♡ hand holding

♡ you pampering them + they’re pretending to be asleep

♡ how will they react around their crush

♡ they’re too tall so you kiss their neck instead

♡ action they did that made your heart flutter while you two are just friends

♡ when you kiss them then run away

♡ teaching you choreography

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ vocal unit ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ love languages 1 | 2

♡ the moment they realize they like you

♡ as romantic tropes

♡ saying i love you

♡ playing with their hair

♡ when you’re an innocent clingy

♡ cheering you up

♡ being comforted

♡ little things about being in a relationship with them

♡ how they interact with your sticky notes

♡ hand holding

♡ you pampering them + they’re pretending to be asleep

♡ how will they react around their crush

♡ they’re too tall so you kiss their neck instead

♡ action they did that made your heart flutter while you two are just friends

♡ when you kiss them then run away

♡ you catch them staring at you (because they have a crush on you) 

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ random units ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ forgetting errands [bsk, chs, lc]

♡ reaction to you constantly touching/playing with their hands [yjh, jww, bsk, chs]

♡ simple things you find cute [wjh, kmg, xmh]

♡ their habits when it comes to you  [csc, yjh, hjs]

♡ fluffy headcanons [yjh, jww, lsm, kmg]

♡ talk of shame [platonic! csc, ksy, jww]

♡ s/o praising them for unseen skills [csc, yjh, jww]

♡ oh its love moment [csc, yjh, jww, lsm, kmg]

♡ ways they say i love you [csc, yjh, ksy, jww, kmg]

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ choi seungscheol ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ older brother! scoups ; reaction to you dating another member

♡ carrying your bags 1 | 2

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ yoon jeonghan ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ falling in love with a foreign idol/celebrity

♡ imagine jeonghan asking you to take photos of him...

♡ best friend seventeen a-z

♡ svt as your boyfriend 

♡ play fighting w jeonghan

♡ jeonghan having a crush on you

♡ boyfriend! jeonghan 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

♡ absentmindedly cuddling

♡ types of kisses

♡ dating with..

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ hong jisoo ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ best friend seventeen a-z

♡ e2l? acappella captains au

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ wen junhui ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ junhui muttering a joke under his breath...

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ kwon sooyoung ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ 7:32pm / imagine hoshi apologizing profusely because...

♡ boyfriend! soonyoung

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ jeon wonwoo ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ getting tour first tattoo done with tattoo artist! wonwoo...

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ lee jihoon ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ imagine jihoon placing a framed picture of you...

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ lee seokmin ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ seokmin trying to huddle close to you...

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ kim mingyu ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ boyfriend! mingyu

♡ bf! mingyu being mad at himself for accidentally...

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ xu minghao ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ nothing here yet!!

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ boo seungkwan ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ nothing here yet!!

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ chwe hansol ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ 2:05pm

♡ vernon sending you lyrics...

♡ boyfriend! vernon 1 | 2

♡ dating vernon..

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ lee chan ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ subconsciously looking for you

> ©bibinnieposts ~ 2022  

[chldfthnvrs]

𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 // 𝒋𝒆𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒘𝒐𝒐

𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑰𝑺 𝑱𝑼𝑺𝑻 𝑨 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀! 𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅. 𝑵𝒐 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉! 𝑲𝒆𝒚𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒔𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒐.🤣

Word Count: 4k+

Genre: Angst -> Fluff

Pairing: JWW × reader

Tropes: forbidden love

icons from @attracteric and @11h26s! I edited wonu's icon a little bit to match the other icons' colors

🍁🍁🍁

Before he came, you were living in a town dotted with colorful stone houses, vineyards, farms, windmills, and white-sailed yachts that breezed around a huge lake everyday. 

You were content with hiking around beaten paths and soaking in hot springs with friends while sipping cocktails. You wore satin dresses, partied all night, dyed your hair in outrageous colors, and sailed away every weekend wearing nothing but bikinis to go diving away into an underwater world that fascinated you. 

You didn't care much about studying but figured that you were maybe into art and colors and the seasons. You skipped classes and made out with teachers' assistants and flunked your driving tests three times before finally reading the signs right. You dated every handsome sailor that stepped foot on the town docks or prolific teen celebrities that came to while away their summers in wineries. 

You lived like time was nothing, and you were careless about everything and cared less about the consequences. News about your escapades always ran around town like wildfire and everyone didn't know whether to hate you or to love you for breezing through life the way you do.

But you belonged to a family with old money that was looking to preserve the wealth in its by marrying off family members to young blood who came to town with cash, investments, and the possibility of owning more.

Your brothers and sisters have all been engaged or whisked off to wealthy businessmen, heirs and heiresses, magnates, start-ups, and even royalty. Your cousins all had degrees and doctorates and charities named after them, and some owned pieces of land in other places similar to your hometown. 

You knew that your parents have been eyeing you for a long time, wondering what you would be doing with your life and who would be able to tame you. 

"We have been able to marry off Bora," your mother had said nonchalantly as she traced the rim of her wineglass one night. She was referring to Bora, your older sister who had to be dragged into her engagement party and walked by security officers to her own wedding. "We will be able to marry her off, too."

For your family, preserving your status as a wealthy scion was the most important duty in life. And they had expected you to be committed to doing the same. 

Until your father hosted a gala where everybody was supposed to know everybody, but somebody had unexpectedly invited somebody that was not known by anybody. 

"And he looks like a nobody, if you ask me," Sana, your other older sister, had remarked while peering at the unwanted guest beneath her long lashes. "Handsome, yes. But without a dossier telling Father he has even but a dime or a nugget to his name, what does that matter?" 

You were not listening to Sana, though. 

Because you were already entranced with the guest with wine-red hair and the most boring tuxedo and cufflinks you have ever seen in your life. 

Everything glittered and gleamed in that ballroom. An orchestra was playing a waltz and the marble floor was filled with people wearing heavy makeup and perfume, diamond-encrusted gowns, silk suits, golden jewelry, and pearls.

Rare flora and food and wine made the place even more magical. And five hours before midnight, the guests would be invited to sit down to listen to a new ballad from famous opera singers in town. 

Everything around you looked magical and rich, but your eyes were fixed on him. On plain, wallflower-like him. 

You didn't know how someone with such a toned-down appearance could catch your eye and pique your curiosity like this. 

"Can you get my list, please?" your father's butler had said to a maid who happened to be nearby. But you had already approached the unvetted man standing by the entrance and said in a voice that didn't seem to be yours, "Can I get you something?", your eyes never leaving his face. 

While walking towards him, you had thought he had been wonderstruck by the glitz and glamour around him, seeing that he looked so handsome but so plain. You had thought that he was probably uncomfortable, as some of the other guests weren't even hiding their scorn and judgment of his appearance and the fact that nobody knew him.

But up close, you saw that he was neither wonderstruck nor uncomfortable. 

He just looked…normal. And thoughtful. 

And quiet.

All the things that you had never seen in anybody around you. 

"No," he had replied politely after a few moments of looking at you. "I do not need anything at the moment. But can I know your name?" He then bowed quickly in greeting and held out a hand. 

In that moment, as you somehow found the voice to tell him your name, you found yourself spellbound by how unimpressed he was of the gala and how just casually, so casually said your name.

You, the social butterfly who turned heads and broke hearts and made the news everytime. You, the daughter of the man who was throwing this extravagant party.

You couldn't make yourself speak as you watched him smile politely and make his name known. "My name is Jeon Wonwoo. Librarian." 

"New in town?" you had asked, barely able to breath. In that moment, there had been a flush that crept onto your cheeks that wasn't because of the wine.

"Yes. I got called in by an uncle to keep watch over a library here for a while." 

"For a while."

"For a while. Until my uncle is in good health and can run his beloved haunt of books again."

"For a while."

"For a while, yes." It was only then that you felt him truly look at you. And smile. Not politely, but in a way that further introduced you to who he was inside. "It's nice to meet you."

And then and there, Jeon Wonwoo captured your heart.

. . .

The world became sepia-toned when he stepped into your life. 

Golden, as if nothing would ever fade into grey, as if nothing was incapable of rust or decay. 

When he came, you no longer saw the town as a map of colorful stone houses, vineyards, farms, windmills, and white-sailed yachts that breezed around a huge lake everyday. Instead, you saw places where Wonwoo would wander around to get the feel of the place, to get to know the faces and the stories behind those faces. 

You suddenly became aware of which coffee shop he loved to stop by for a cup of latte and a bagel. You began listing the names of every person he would ever approach and would mark in red the ones whose eyes would gleam with even a spark of romantic interest towards him. You got to know the corners where he loved turning on the way home. 

You took him hiking up paths you felt you were discovering anew and would shyly invite him to bathe in hot springs with you. You no longer had cocktails, but you were intoxicated all the same...intoxicated with Jeon Wonwoo. 

Your satin dresses would shimmer against the moonlit night as you met Wonwoo in rose gardens and in greenhouses where midnight flowers bloomed. You stayed up all night listening to the steady beat of his heart as you lay on his chest while he read the new books that he wanted to include in the library. You lost friends and got uninvited to the summer parties you used to immerse yourself in as you lost yourself to Wonwoo and spent every hour you could spare with him.  You still dyed your hair but only in colors that would complement his, and your father's yachts became docked forever as Wonwoo preferred to cliff-dive with you or get cooped up with you in the stone house next to the library. You were in a world that was far more fascinating than the deepest parts of the town lake, and you loved this new world that you had discovered.

A world where only you and Wonwoo existed, and everything else was mere backdrop. 

You began to love books and board games and surprised your father by taking art classes, where your only subject was Wonwoo: his fingers, the sharp angles of his face, the kind look of his eyes, and the color of his calming presence. Everyone else was uninteresting or unimportant. Everything fell away except him. You became tamed, anchored, secure. And slowly, the town got used to the new you…the persona you now had that didn't involve sleeping with the hottest new stud or messing around with wild-child crowds. 

Your world had only three seasons when he became the sun you revolved around: autumn, summer, and spring.

Autumn for the wine-red colour of his hair that matched the ruby chain he had hung around your neck; for the rose blush makeup that blended well with the flush on your cheeks because you were so happy; for the burnt-orange leaves where he laid you and kissed you for the first time. 

Summer for the flecks of gold that gleamed in your eyes as you looked up at his face while resting on his lap during picnics spent in a grassy knoll overlooking the town lake; for the streets that become bathed in honey-colored light as he kissed your forehead on the walk home; and afternoons spent down the lake's cool water, soaked in summer sun and in him.

Spring for the time all the flowers that bloomed as he told you for the first time that he loved you.

Before he came, you lived like time was nothing, and you were careless about everything and cared less about the consequences. News about your escapades always ran around town like wildfire and everyone didn't know whether to hate you or to love you for breezing through life the way you do.

But when he came, your world became a photoset of memories where time was frozen, in no rush, infinite, and bathed in the warm glow of a spell that no one seemed capable of breaking.

Except the dreadful truth that you belonged to a family with old money that was looking to preserve the wealth in its coffers by marrying you off to the next young blood who came to town with cash or who was keen on investing in your father's wine or fishery business. 

Your brothers and sisters have all been engaged or whisked off to wealthy businessmen, heirs and heiresses, magnates, start-ups, and even royalty. Your cousins all had degrees and doctorates and charities named after them, and some owned pieces of land in other places similar to your hometown. 

You knew that your parents have been eyeing you for a long time, wondering what you would be doing with your life, and who would be able to tame you. 

Your mother still thinks of the success she had with rebellious Bora, who has now settled in France with a man that came from a line of French barons. Locked up in a gilded cage but still contributing to the name of the family, and will possibly give grandchildren in the near future.

"Bora got married," you overheard your mother say one night before retiring for bed. "She will, too. And to someone with a name and a dowry to last for generations." 

For your family, preserving your status as a wealthy scion was the most important duty in life. And they had expected you to be committed to doing the same. 

But for all their gratefulness that you were no longer running around as a subject for salacious gossip, they were not thrilled at all that Wonwoo was your lover.

As you watched the gears on your parents' heads turn and turn each day, you steeled yourself and made your own plans

It seemed like you would be more rebellious than Bora, after all.

. . . 

On the night that the sepia-toned skies of your world came crashing down, you told Wonwoo in the rose garden by his uncle's library that it is now time for you both to run away. 

"Someone is coming," you told him in a voice stretched raw from crying, "someone that they want me to marry."

"Is it the Italian duke this time?" Wonwoo's tone was worried, but soothing at the same time. This was not the first matchmaking attempt that you had to tell him. There had been many since he came. And a lot more before he had. This was how your family worked and he had known better than to act out against it.

"No. Someone…someone from the oil business, supposedly. A son of an old friend of his from the city. But none of that matters. I don't care. I don't fucking care. I just want to be out of here before they take their plan any further." Your tears outshone your satin nightdress in the moonlit night. "We have to leave now, Wonwoo, before it is too late."

You pleaded with him to listen to you. 

This new marriage proposal was not like the others. 

This new marriage proposal sounded sure. And agreed upon. On black and white, between your parents and the other family. 

"We do not have anything planned yet. Let's give it a week," Wonwoo had said, unsure of how to respond. "And I still want to tell your parents that I love you and I will marry you. I have enough money to build a life for us–"

"–but not enough money for them," you broke in, sobbing. "We can't win this fight. You have to listen to me. We have to leave town. Tonight. Now."

"We have not thought this through–"

"–I have. And you have to listen to me." 

Flashlights shone around the rose garden, probing every inch of it for traces of you. You hear your father's guards calling for your name, and other voices that you do not know also doing the same. 

"Your father's guards," Wonwoo had said with a voice as cold as the death of stars described in his books at the library.

"And his men," you had said woodenly. "The other family's men." 

"I have to talk to your father." 

"It's not going to work that way, Wonwoo." You forced him to look you in the eye. "Because you are in a place where everybody is supposed to know everybody. You are in love with a woman that cannot be married to someone like you because my family will not recognize you. And the only way we can be together is if we run away now."

"No." For the first time, the icicles in his voice were aimed at you. "There has to be another way." 

"Let's just go, please. A car is waiting–" 

"I will not take you away from your family like this. They have to accept us and the love that we share." 

"This isn't a storybook, Jeon Wonwoo!" you screamed. "If we do not run away now, my family will take you away from me. Can't you understand that?"

"I don't want our love to be something that stands between you and your family. There has to be a way–"

"–Jeon Wonwoo, I am in love with you! And I am willing to leave everything behind for you! Shouldn't that be enough?!"

"There has to be another way to resolve this–"

–the rose garden wasn't enormous, and it was only a matter of time before they found you and Wonwoo, seated on a bench overlooking the library and the town. Holding hands. Praying that explanations and consideration will be given. 

You held onto that hope, which bloomed inside you. You clung to its vibrant color and you prayed desperately.

But the last flash of red you saw was Wonwoo's blood staining your nightdress as he was wrenched away from your arms. And your screams filled the night as the man you loved disappeared.

. . .

Like ashes scattered into the wind, you felt colors leave the canvas of your life. Everything was replaced by winter-like cold and starless skies. Obsidian thorns embedded themselves into your bones, and roses that bloomed in your heart dried up and died as the cold seeped in. 

After Wonwoo disappeared, you still lived in the same town dotted with its stone houses, vineyards, farms, windmills, and yachts. The landscape was still the same, and the townspeople only aged but did not change at all.

You stopped hiking around beaten paths and soaking in hot springs, but you drank every bottle and glass of wine you could get your hands on, hoping to at least feel numb from the ache in your bones that says Wonwoo's name over again. You discarded your satin dresses for tight, velvet ones and raised hell at nightclubs until the sun made your hungover eyes sting. You went back to dyeing your hair in outrageous colors, and sailed away every weekend wearing nothing but bikinis to go diving away into an underwater world that you hoped would suck you in and pull you away from the misery you felt in the surface world.

You stopped taking your art classes, made out with every teacher you could get your hands on, and got your driver's license revoked for too many DUIs and jail time. You became the nightmare of every handsome sailor that stepped foot on the town docks or became the subject of heartbreak songs written by celebrities that came to while away their summers in your father's wineries. 

You lived like time was nothing, and you were careless about everything and cared less about the consequences. News about your escapades always ran around town and the cities like wildfire and everyone didn't know whether to hate you or to pity you for the downhill ride your life was leading you. 

You still belonged to the same dysfunctional family who made the man you loved disappear and locked you inside your bedroom until your engagement with some oil-magnate old friend's son was finalized on paper.

Your brothers and sisters are still trapped in loveless engagements and marriages with wealthy businessmen, heirs and heiresses, magnates, start-ups, and even royalty. Your cousins continued accumulating degrees and doctorates and charities named after them, and some owned pieces of land in other places similar to your hometown. 

You knew that your parents are still keeping their eye on you, bent on sealing the deal they have gotten through you.

"We have been able to marry off Bora," your mother still says every night after downing glasses of rosè. Bora, your older sister, who is now filing for divorce that involved millions of dollars of property and money to be divided. "We will be able to marry her off, too."

For your family, preserving your status as a wealthy scion was the most important duty in life. They had expected you to be committed to doing the same. 

Until your father hosted your engagement party, where everybody was supposed to know everybody but somebody had unexpectedly come uninvited–somebody whose name was worse than nobody's. 

"After all these years," Sana, your other older sister, remarks dryly as she peers at the unwanted guest beneath her long lashes. "He still looks so plain. Handsome, yes. But without a dossier telling Father he has even but a dime or a nugget to his name, what does that matter? Will anything change?" 

You are not been listening to Sana, though. 

Because you are once again entranced with the guest with wine-red hair and the most boring tuxedo and cufflinks you have ever seen in your life.

Everything once again starts to glitter and gleam around you. Another orchestra is filling the ballroom with music and the marble floor is filled with dancing people wearing heavy makeup and perfume, diamond-encrusted gowns, silk suits, golden jewelry, and pearls.

Rare flora and food and wine make the place even more magical. And five hours before midnight, the guests will be invited to sit down to listen to a new ballad from famous opera singers in town. 

Everything around you looks magical and rich, but your eyes are–once again–fixed on him. On plain, wallflower-like him. 

You still do not know how someone with such a appearance could catch your eye and make your heart drum a hundred beats at once.

"Where are the guards?" your father's butler says to a maid who happens to be nearby. But you are already approaching the man standing by the entrance, reminiscing a similar scene from before in which you said in a voice that didn't seem to be yours, "Can I get you something?"

While walking towards him, you see that he is still not wonderstruck by the glitz and glamour around him. And he wasn't uncomfortable, even as some guests and your fiance's family members openly show their scorn and judgment of his appearance and the fact that he was some librarian's nephew who dared to be your lover.

Up close, you see that he had aged. But he was neither wonderstruck nor uncomfortable. 

He still looked as if he just stepped into some absurd museum of extravaganza. He still had that thoughtful gaze.

His spirit could still quiet down all the passion and anger and bitterness that simmered in yours. Even after all these years, he still had that power over you.

He still possessed all the things that you had never seen in anybody else around you. 

You wait for him to speak as his eyes meet yours, as you remember how spellbound you had been before because of how unimpressed he was of parties like this and how he just casually, so casually said your name. 

You, the madwoman who turns heads and breaks hearts and makes the news every time for all the wrong reasons. You, the daughter of the parents who are throwing this extravagant engagement party, the daughter who is locked in this gilded cage and in an engagement with a man you did not love.

You couldn't make yourself speak as you watched him. 

"Back in town?" you ask, barely able to breath. In that moment, the same flush from years ago that wasn't because of the wine crept into your cheeks–a color you did not think would ever come back to paint your face.

He speaks with the same soft and deep voice that you came to love. "For a while."

"For a while."

"For a while." You feel his face with your hand, the one with the ugly diamond clinging to your ring finger like a snake. Jeon Wonwoo flinches–an introduction to the pain that he must have been suffering from all these years. "Until I can leave this town with you holding my hand. But until then…" he cupped your face with his hands–to the rage of your parents and guards who were swooping in to take him, to the exclamations of everyone present– and whispered before claiming your lips with a kiss that has missed you for years, "...I will not leave you ever again."

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

Wonwoo looks up from the manuscript you gave him, brows furrowed. He drains his coffee while looking at you quizzically.

"You don't like it?" you bite your lip, studying his face. It is already midnight, and you have been cajoling Wonwoo to read your story.

"This is such a weird ending, babe."

"But...but I want the ending to be sad!"

"This is not sad. This is depressing. What happens when the guards get me after that 'I will never leave you again' line? The readers will go crazy if you end it this way!" He shakes his head and laughs before roping you into his arms as you make cute protests about how he's such a killjoy. "And I am not a killjoy. You are. You are planning to make all the readers sad."

"It's the 'I will not leave you ever again' line, Jeon Wonwoo. Jeez!" You roll your eyes and take the manuscript from his hand. "Didn't you like how romantic it was?"

"It's depressing," Wonwoo still maintains, burrowing his face into your back. "Besides, I don't think your parents will like how you made them look like crazy people who make you and your sibs marry for money. And your mom doesn't drink, babe!"

"I wasn't working on my biography, for goodness' sake!!!" you pout, screaming as he laughs and kisses you on the neck. "I was writing a story–"

"–based on our love story, but only I am this unwanted pauper and your parents are such assholes and your are this wild child that only I can tame but I die in the end when the guards pounce on me like it's football season?"

"Wow, Jeon Wonwoo," you snap sarcastically, "so many words tonight, huh?"

"How about you just tell the truth?" He continues kissing your neck. "That my uncle got sick and I stood in for him during your dad's birthday party. And we fell in love, dated in every coffee shop and library in this town, that your family adores me, and that we are already six months into our wedding?"

You stare at the manuscript in your hands, a smile forming in your face. "But..."

"...it's a happier ending and I don't die at the end."

You laugh and turn to him, dropping the manuscript on the floor. As you claim Jeon Wonwoo's lips and catch sight of how your wedding rings glinted beneath the chandelier of your family's library, you think about rewriting the story all over again.

This time, with the true events that unfolded. No longer fiction, as you promised your publisher–but a biography, a celebration of a love story that you were lucky to have.

A true love story with a happy ending.

- 4.

[ksywoo]

currently working on...

ask me about anything im working on >:) it's easy to coax me into giving snippets/spoilers

titles subject to change

♡ orange hearts are ones i'm most excited about :)

SEVENTEEN

♡ no title - csc #1

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♡ no title - kmg #1

fratboy!kim mingyu x good student!reader - (possible smau), stranger to friends to lovers, lots of shy and clumsy gyu, reader is very focused on their studies but gets distracted by cute tall boy current wc: 1k

♡ can you love me?

xu minghao x reader - bffs to lovers, inspired by side to side by the8, basically hao just wants to hold readers hand for the entire fic current wc: 6k

♡ no title - bsk #1

boo seungkwan x reader - bffs with seungkwan, fake dating with cheol, NOT A LOVE TRIANGLE !!!! current wc: 855

♡ no title - bsk #2

slytherin!boo seungkwan x hufflepuff!reader - hogwarts au, one sided enemies to lovers, fake dating current wc: 11k

NCT (all units)

♡ no title - ml #1

mark lee x bff's sibling!reader - reader is donghyucks younger sibling, readers friends dates mark, lots of confusion and drama current wc: 4.8k

♡ no title - lyy #1

liu yangyang x reader - smau, wrong timing trope, partial jaehyun x reader bc they date but not really a love triangle if the third wheel (jaehyun) knew they were doomed from the beginning current wc: 3k + texts/tweets

STRAY KIDS

♡ is that my mom?

seo changbin x reader - yns mom loves changbin (bc i fully believe any and all moms love changbin) basically just 3 times changbin and yns mom talk on the phone and the 1 time they meet in person current wc: 700

♡ look into my eyes and touch my hand

han jisung x reader - mind reading ?? different than im used to but kinda love it ngl, reader can hear people's thoughts when they touch, han has a different secret ability too current wc: 3k

♡ what it takes for you to notice

kim seungmin x fem!reader - felix's older sister!reader, fake dating han but it's fake flirting so seungmin notices reader current wc: 1.3k

all groups reactions

SVT - all members drunk phone calls (leaders already posted)

SVT - hhu with s/o with similar personality (requested)

SVT - vocal unit comforting you when you've had a bad day (requested)

SVT - vocal unit being jealous (requested)

SVT - gn!reader doesn't want kids (requested)

[nu-reads]

circulation desk inquiry: search by members

━━ members -> #m: [initials]

✏︎ [csc] seungcheol

✏︎ [yjh] jeonghan

✏︎ [hjs] joshua

✏︎ [wjh] junhui

✏︎ [ksy] soonyoung

✏︎ [jww] wonwoo

✏︎ [ljh] jihoon

✏︎ [lsm] seokmin

✏︎ [kmg] mingyu

✏︎ [xmh] minghao

✏︎ [bsk] seungkwan

✏︎ [hvc] vernon

✏︎ [lc] chan

✏︎ [svt] all members

━━ from the librarian:

this section is only filtered by members. there will not be any genre or fic type differentiations available for mobile and the desktop site. nsfw and sfw are grouped together.

━━ notes:

made for mobile

links will be added when I start adding to the library

updated: oct.20.23

[elderflowerchampagne]

148

I'm so, so glad that pre-show Manderley is back, mostly because I forgot how badly I usually need to pee right before the show.

I got my driver's license relatively late in life - by which I mean last July - and I used to joke that no road rage could ever be more infuriating than getting stuck behind audience members who are clinging together or blocking the doorways or stairs. I have yet to be wrong about that. If you choose to wrap your arms around your girlfriend's stomach and then both maneuver around like a bewildered horse, you deserve whatever happens after that.

God bless Emily Oldak, really. At my last show before the shutdown I was surprised to see her as Lady Macduff, and these past sad two years I've been telling myself that if that was it, if the show never came back, I was glad that was how I went out. Even gladder that it wasn't.

Much as I've been thinking about Danvers, I've never really considered that she thinks Duncan is anything other than an annoying guy who won't stop groping her. When Oldak/Danvers held his shirt to her face, she looked like she was about to cry. I don't think it's that she's in love with him, or that she feels guilty for helping take him out. I don't know. Danvers loves stasis, and controlling people, and also I assume other stuff.

One of my favorite things to do is watch the nurse in the back office. Joy Marie/Nurse takes out a knife and carves a very precise MB into the textbook page.

When the crowd is awful I tend to gravitate to the fifth floor, and since the reopening I've been spending a lot of time just opening drawers and reading records and generally paying attention to all the things I took for granted. I spent a long time going through the files in the doctor's office, and reading the notes scribbled on the blotter. One of the patients washed her hair on the first day of her menstrual cycle and needs to be monitored. A few visits back I found a pamphlet indicating that doing so will make a woman insane. So. Check on her.

I also found a medical journal up there, which is probably the most interesting thing I've ever found in the McK, and the only thing I've ever wished I could take with me to read in the light. One of the articles in it discussed the reasons couples remain childless. #1 is self centeredness (31%), and #2 is the wife's career (22%). I could have a field day with all the thematic implications. Also I don't remember what the other reasons were, but "we had a kid but my wife was nursing it and then bashed its brains out" wasn't on there.

Speaking of the fifth floor, the crucial object in my go-to special spot has been REMOVED! Hope it's back soon.

JWW is a wonderfully silly, joyous Porter, but nobody here needs me to tell them that. Ruth/Agnes also flung her room key at him, and then she giggled after he beat her to the phone. I can't imagine what Agnes has to be laughing about, but she's a joy to watch.

The painting in the matron's hut is, I assume, Mary and Joseph on their way to Bethlehem (or back? I don't remember if Jesus is with them...) Anyway, if he's not, that would imply Mary's pregnant, which of course would tie the matron to Lady Macduff. I just Googled it to see if I could find the painting and confirm. No dice, but "mary joseph donkey bethlehem painting" yielded an incredible amount of clip art.

When going through the ledger in Paisley Sweets, I came across two things of interest: 1) Whoever wrote "non-pareils" misspelled it as "non-perils", which made me laugh, because we could really, really use some non-perils these days. 2) There's a letter from the proprietor describing his plans for Mayfair, where he says they're expecting a much greater turnout than in the past two years. Made me smile.

I started writing these things years ago to help me remember what happened each visit, and they've served that purpose well. I'm sorry they've gotten so myopic and introspective, but it's interesting (for me, at least), to look back across them and see how they way I see and think has changed. I'm not good at big-picture stuff, I'm afraid. If I was I'd have a different career. I don't like big picture stuff; I like critical analysis and being a hater, which is what academia is.

K

[peachycheol]

✪ hello! welcome to peachycheol’s masterlist. please keep in mind that all of this blog’s contents will have 18+ themes. if you would like to make a request, please read the rules. i’m still starting up my blog though, so i’ll probably open up requests once everything is up and running. thank you for stopping by! 🥰 💗🍑

▌ tags 

by member

csc • yjh • hjs • wjh • ksy • jww • ljh • smh • kmg • lsm • bsk • hvc • lc

by genre

pwp • fluff • angst • crack • action • fantasy 

by length

one-shot • drabble • timestamp • series • social media • blurb • teaser

▌browse

〖 key 〗 ♕ - pwp, ♡ - fluff, ♢ - angst, ♧ - crack, ♤ - action, ✻ - fantasy,  ϟ - various genres

⓵ one-shots

➳ breakfast in bed (csc) ♕ - 2.4k w.  ➳ reliable (kmg) ♕ - 3.2k w. ➳ lost in translation (yjh) ♕ - 2.6k w.

⓶ drabbles

➳ milestone title game m.list (all) ϟ 

[neorealm]

☁︎ (fluff) ; ✦ (suggestive) ; ♡ (smut) ; ☽ (angst) ; ✩ (multiple parts)

YUTA

TEN

JAEHYUN

MARK

RENJUN

JENO

HAECHAN

JAEMIN

SERIES

HEADCANNONS

how this shi- tag works / what to search:

#genre+initials of idol e.g. #fluffnjm

#ficrecs+initials of idol e.g. #ficrecsljn

#genre(space)ficrecs e.g. #angstfluff ficrecs

#nct(space)three/four/five/eight –some e.g. #nct fivesome

#favefics for my other unlisted fave fic recommendations

genres: 

fluff, angst, suggestive, smut, dark, angstfluff, fluffsmut, angstsmut, darksmut, angstsuggestive, fluffsuggestive, darkangst

initials:

sjn ; seo johnny

lty ; lee taeyong

nyt ; nakamoto yuta

kun ; qian kun

kdy ; kim doyoung

ten ; ten

jjh ; jung jaehyun

ww ; winwin

kjw ; kim jungwoo

mkl ; mark lee

xj ; xiaojun

hd ; hendery

hrj ; huang renjun

ljn ; lee jeno

lhc ; lee haechan

njm ; na jaemin

yy ; liu yangyang

tr ; osaki shotaro

jsc ; jung sungchan

zcl ; zhong chenle

pjs ; park jisung

oso ; oh sion

rk ; maeda riku

ys ; tokuno yushi

lcy ; anton lee

00z ; 00 line prolly nct dream’s

95z ; nct or svt

lino ; lee know

oty ; ok taecyeon

psh ; park sunghoon

jww ; jeon wonwoo

jsh ; joshua hong

yjh ; yoon jeonghan

svt ; seventeen members except wonu, jisu, hannie

enha

riize

headcannons:

#neos : for nct/nct u

#ilichils : for nct 127

#dreamies : for nct dream

#visions : for wayv

#00z : for nct's 00 line

#sebongs : for seventeen

reminder: I’m of legal age, and if you are a minor, please refrain from accessing contents that aren’t tailored for you. However, if you are of legal age, read responsibly and do learn to disassociate the real-life people from the fan fiction you read. As writers have limited control over the reach of their content, we, as readers, must be responsible for the content we consume and respect each other’s boundaries. Don’t read what you don’t like, and don’t mandate other users what to read or write. Also, please show your support and gratitude for the writers’ free content by simply re-blogging their works as much as you can, as it helps more users to stumble upon them, share your thoughts about their works, and send them words of encouragement and/or gratitude. Happy Reading!

[bbugyu]

headcanon masterlist

member tags (these don’t work on mobile, soz)

seungcheol ▴ jeonghan ▴ joshua  junhwi ▴ soonyoung ▴ wonwoo ▴ jihoon minghao ▴ mingyu ▴ seokmin seungkwan ▴ vernon ▴ chan

index - 

f / m: binary gender, either female or male terminology used

gn: gender neutral terminology used, applies to all readers

afab / amab: assigned female/male at birth, gender neutral terminology with either female or male anatomy 

enby: non-binary gender identity

serial aus -

a cursed princess and her human companion (csc)    ⤷ part one | part two | part three | part four       smut. fluff. hurt/comfort. royal au. f reader.       knight!cheol x princess!reader

falling for you (yjh)     ⤷ part one | part two       smut. fluff. humor. university au. coffee shop au.       enemies to lovers. gn afab reader.

neverending artistry (lsm+yjh)     ⤷ prelude | part one | part two | part three | epilogue       smut. fluff. vague angst. polyamory au. f reader.       sugar daddy!han x musician!seok x escort!reader      ⤷ don’t mean a thing (spin off)       smut. jeonghan x f reader. bs (before seokmin)

(down) like six thirty (yjh)    ⤷ masterlist       fluff. smut. hurt/comfort. canon compliant.       gn gose pd!reader. afab. happy ending.

classic (hjs)    ⤷ plot twist | crash zoom | happy ending       fluff. smut. humor. food vlogger au. afab enby ace!       reader. best friend’s brother. lots of eating.    ⤷ the proposal (epilogue)       fluff. humor. fake engagement.

thank you for the meal (yjh)    ⤷ bewitched | coming soon       fluff. hurt/comfort. horror comedy. vampire/witch au.       gn!reader. band au? slow burn. cliff hanger.

personal faves are marked with a ⋗

csc - 

serial au - a cursed princess and her human companion    ⤷ part one | part two | part three | part four       smut. fluff. hurt/comfort. royal au. f reader.       knight!cheol x princess!reader

jww - 

nothing ⋗    ⤷ 3.7k. fluff. angst. ftl/roommates au. gn reader.       moving in with your best friend was the best       idea you ever had, even if he claimed it was his.

glow    ⤷ drabble. fluff. slight steam. uni au. gn reader.       whatever you need the duct tape for,       wonwoo is always down to help you.

kmg -

finding something to do    ⤷ 4k. mostly fluff. leaning smut. ftl/uni au.       i thought u were gay trope. f bi reader.       you had spent your better years bored with mingyu,       and he thought holding your hand felt like holding       his fleeting youth.

chs -

coming soon

yjh -

melody    ⤷ drabble. fluff. mentions of sex. uni au. gn reader.       it seemed like a sick joke that the ta for your       university level musical theory class was       actually as hot as dramas made them out to be.

good in bed     ⤷ 3.8k. fluffy smut. domestic af. far too much praise.       gn afab reader.       between your long hours at the law firm and       jeonghan's comeback coming up, time alone       was hard to come by.

death after noon   ⤷ 6.2k. fluff. genshin impact au. gn reader       of all the views you had seen, there was       little that could compare to him.

serial au - falling for you    ⤷ part one | part two       smut. fluff. humor. university au. coffee shop au.       enemies to lovers. gn afab reader.

serial au - neverending artistry (seokhan) ⋗    ⤷ prelude | part one | part two | part three | epilogue       smut. fluff. vague angst. polyamory au. f reader.       sugar daddy!han x musician!seok x escort!reader      ⤷ don’t mean a thing (spin off)       smut. jeonghan x f reader. bs (before seokmin)

serial au - down (like six thirty) ⋗    ⤷ masterlist      fluff. smut. hurt/comfort. canon compliant.      gn gose pd!reader. afab. happy ending.

serial au - thank you for the meal   ⤷ bewitched | coming soon      fluff. hurt/comfort. horror comedy. vampire/witch au.      gn!reader. band au? slow burn. cliff hanger.

hjs -

running in airports    ⤷ drabble. fluff. alcohol use. gn reader.       delayed flight after delayed flight felt like a total       nightmare, but at least your boyfriend can help       you forget it a little

can i kiss you yet?    ⤷ 2.4k. fluff. gn reader. first snow. foreigners in korea.       a mutual friend always made a great excuse       to see you, but he definitely wanted more.

serial au - classic ⋗   ⤷ plot twist | crash zoom | happy ending      fluff. smut. humor. food vlogger au. afab enby ace!      reader. best friend’s brother. lots of eating.   ⤷ the proposal (epilogue)      fluff. humor. fake engagement.

ljh -

my happiness    ⤷ 4.5k. fluff. hs/uni au. gn reader.       even in this maze-like world, jihoon made you       feel a little less lost

lsm -

in your dreams    ⤷ 7.4k. fluff. ftl/hs au. cursing. mentions of sex. f reader.       your lifetime best friend visits you in a less than       pg dream

serial au - neverending artistry (seokhan) ⋗    ⤷ prelude | part one | part two | part three | epilogue       smut. fluff. vague angst. polyamory au. f reader.       sugar daddy!han x musician!seok x escort!reader  

bsk -

coming soon

wjh -

coming soon

ksy -

coming soon

xmh -

no warning    ⤷ 2.8k. smut. fluff. artist/uni au. fuckbuddies.       ment of alcohol. f reader.       he saw you laying there, swimming in his pillows,       and suddenly he never wanted you to leave.

lc -

coming soon

[who-is-friend-and-who-is-foe]

Sleep No More #11 4/4/22

It’s been a busy month so I haven’t been able to update this as much as I wanted, but some notes about a wonderful 11th visit:

- Michael Bryan Wang’s Fulton’s 1:1! I started following his character when I noticed him and Sexy alone in the autopsy room for their fight/duet. Not wanting to leave an unwatched character alone, I followed him, stopping at rave, until he led me back into the funeral parlor once more, locking the door and boarding the windows up behind me. His 1:1 was quite intimate and really exposed me to more of his character’s background and motivations.

- At the end of the first loop, I started feeling a bit lost and aimless, and so figured now was as good as any time to finally do my first loop with Duncan (JWW). The timing of his whole loop was really impressive, especially from ballroom to banquet – it feels like everything is really planned to an exact tee to make sure very little time is wasted, even for a dead man! A minute after his impressive solo in his room after he fell asleep in the canopy, boom! Macbeth was there to kill him. A minute after Macbeth left, boom! Banquo around the corner to ring the bell. And a minute after the three men leave Duncan in the crypt, boom! Danvers was there to revive them. It’s enough down time to get most of the crowd to leave his loop, but I never piece in my head how tight all the timing was. I followed Duncan through his post-banquet scenes, and am still wrestling with some confusion from his narrative with Danvers: he spent the next few minutes flirting with Danvers aggressively, going for kisses, dancing in his room, pursuing her coyly as she avoided his advances; it confuses me for who exactly is pursuing who in their duo – is Duncan being seduced or is he the seducer?

- I ended the show looking for some familiar territory. Caught Brandon’s Nurse setting up Lady Macbeth’s clothes by her bath, and followed him to his Matron visit and lost limb (which still holds as one of my absolutely favorite dances in the show) – my favorite bit is the 360 degree leg swing Brandon does towards the end. Next thing I know, I’m whisked off again to his 1:1! 

- I spent the remainder of the show bumbling around 5, watching Matron a bit and hanging around. Found myself back to following Nurse, and you can really get quite a treat in the last half hour following that loop – solo on Lady Macbeth’s hospital bed, mirror dance, and lost limb all back to back to back. This time, I stood on the far end of the top of the operating theatre to get a different view of the scene. Ended up with a lovely walkout with Nurse, where we dashed through the hotel lobby, ending with a gentle twirl and a warm smile and shoulder squeeze: always a happy end to the night!

- I was about to leave early, but the line for coat check was packed, so I decided to spend some more time back in the Manderley, and had quite a treat! Some of the cast members came out, and I had a quick conversation with Evan about his Taxi improvisation from the day before: he first gave me a sly shrug when I asked about it, but quickly acquiesced, humorously noting that he almost got in trouble because they were afraid he would lose Nurse’s glasses!