#Compatible with All Phones(Black)

[naimshaikh]

Sensyne 10'' Ring Light with 50'' Extendable Tripod Stand, LED Circle Lights with Phone Holder for Live Stream/Makeup/YouTube Video/TikTok, Compatible with All Phones(Black)

https://href.li/?https://sites.google.com/u/0/d/1D9n_0DPdWSKbZc-Pxn8ySUOvCO5qtEEN/preview

[poge-life]

𝔹𝕦𝕫𝕫𝔽𝕖𝕖𝕕 ℝ𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡 𝕋𝕖𝕤𝕥 ~ 𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕨 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕖𝕪

“I’m (y/n) (l/n) and this fine looking gentleman is my boyfriend, Joseph and today…we’re doing the BuzzFeed relationship quiz to see how well we know each other.”

Drew let out a groan at the use of his first name, looking over at you, “I don’t like when you call me that. You only call me that when you’re mad at me.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek before placing one on his shoulder and looking down at the laptop. The questions listed were more like a checklist rather than actual questions but there was a variety to choose from.

‘Their birthday’

“(Y/B/D) (Y/B/Y)” He answered, tapping his hands on the desk

“November 4, 1993.” You said, “I didn’t believe him when he told me he was 26 when we first met because he doesn’t look like he’s 30.”

Drew let out sigh, shaking his head, “I don’t like to talk about it.”

“You’re getting up there, grandpa.” You teased, letting out a laugh as he shrugged your head off of his shoulder.

‘Their Astrological Sign’

“Your astrological sign is (y/s/s). Most compatible with mine, by the way.” Drew said, looking over at you as you agreed, “Obviously. You are a scorpio. Totally makes sense.”

‘Their Phone Number’

“Okay, my number has been leaked so many times that I’m not even gonna let him say it,” You declared as Drew agreed, “I know you know mine because you use it at Dunkin’ all the time.”

You just smiled at the camera as he rolled his eyes at you.

‘Their Biggest celebrity crush’

“Nick Cirillo is his.” You answered, “Nick gets more attention than I do when we’re on set. Especially this season.”

“Nick is a beautiful man, what can I say?” Drew chuckled, raising his hands in surrender, “Yours is always changing. But, if it were to come down to it, I would have to say…(y/c/c). You talk about them a lot.”

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend, turning to give him an ‘are you serious’ look. Drew winked at you before turning back to the computer.

‘What their nickname is’

“Drewsph is a big one between our friend group,” you said, “I call you ‘baby’ a lot. I’ve also called you Drafe before on set.”

“When have you ever called me that?” He asked, confusion on his face, “I’ve literally never heard that one.”

“I do it when we’re on set and you’re in costume but not acting,” you explained, “you’re not exactly Drew and you’re not exactly Rafe. So… you’re ‘drafe.’”

Drew just looked at you with a blank expression before looking back at the camera, “I call her ‘babe’, ‘hun’, ‘sweet girl’ has been in there a few times. Maddy calls you Pookie.”

You let out a groan , banging your head against the desk, “They didn’t need to know that.”

“You called me Joseph, it’s fair game, babe.” Drew leaned down and placed a kiss to the top of your head.

‘Their coffee order’

“Oh good lord. Yours is always changing,” Drew answered, looking over at you, “Your current one is (y/c/o). You also do that vanilla cold brew from Starbucks a lot.”

“Do you know exactly how I get it though?” You asked

“5 pumps of vanilla and an extra pump of sweet cream.”

“You always just either drink an iced coffee with a little bit of creamer and like a spoonful of sugar or you get an Iced Almondmilk flat white.” You answered, “because you’re weird and can’t have a normal fucking coffee order.”

Drew narrowed his eyes at you, pursing his lips in the process, “Says the one who just weeds out their coffee with creamer.”

“Because straight black coffee is disgusting.” You argued, “If I wasn’t supposed to drown out the taste of coffee with creamer, it shouldn’t have been created.”

“So dramatic.” Drew mumbled and you mocked him “ ‘so dramatic’ Yeah. Okay.”

‘Their favorite alcoholic drink’

“Yours is different every time we go out,” You looked over at Drew, who agreed, “You drink beer in the summer, corona or Coors. When we go out to dinner, you do either whiskey. On the rocks. Or some kind of cocktail.”

“Yours depends on who you’re with,” Drew said, “You and Maddy have wine parties and go crazy for Mimosas at breakfast. But when we go out, you have (y/d/c).”

You threw your head back with a laugh at how crazy you both sound, “we sound like we’re alcoholics.”

“You and Maddy are just about there.” Drew shrugged, ignoring the look you sent him.

‘Their favorite co-worker’

You rolled your eyes at your answer, “Once again, Nick. But you also spend a lot of time with Austin and JD. But out of those three, I’m going with JD. You two hang out a lot together and he’s always at our apartment.”

Drew seemed pleased enough with your answer, “I’d say…Maddy or Rudy. You and Maddy instantly clicked when you two met and hung out more than the rest of us. But with Rudy, you two always find ways to entertain yourselves when you’re left alone.”

You had a grin on your face as you looked at the camera, “It’s always a good time with Rudy. He is the definition of letting the impulsive thoughts win. There is never a dull moment with him.”

‘Their pet peeve.’

You had to think about this one. Drew was a pretty calm person when he was around everyone and didn’t let anything really bother him. You couldn’t remember if he mentioned anything that bothered him.

“People chewing with their mouths open is your top one,” Drew said, “when people don’t take their shoes off before they sit on the couch-“

You cut him off before he could continue, “First off, we have a white couch and two, is it so wrong I don’t want whatever is on their shoes to be on our furniture? That seems like a pretty reasonable one to me.”

“Okay. I’ll give you that one. You also hate it when people don’t stack their dishes whenever we leave a restaurant.”

“I was a server in high school and college and I can say, it always made my job easier when we were busy.” You argued

You looked at Drew with your head tilted in thought, struggling to think of anything, “It’s not a pet peeve but it’s something that bothers you. When people come up to you at parties and think you’re like Rafe and give zero shits about your feelings.”

Drew let out a groan as he looked at the camera, “Please don’t come up to me and ask if I wanna do coke. I don’t do coke.”

“It’s amazing how many people in LA can get their hands on it,” You added. “You hate when people go through your camera without asking. That’s a major one I can think of. You also hate when people come over-“

“I do hate it when people come over.” Drew nodded and you rolled your eyes at him. “As I was saying, mr homebody, when people come over and use the shower and don’t hang up the towels or put out new ones.”

Drew looked at you in bewilderment, “You say that you it’s not something that wouldn’t bother everyone else. I don’t want to walk into a bathroom and step on a wet towel or be showering and not have a towel in the bathroom?”

You didn’t say anything as you just stared at him. You shook your head as you turned back to the camera and Drew just mimicked you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And there you have it! I think this proves that we know each other better than we thought we did.” You smiled, looking over at Drew, who agreed, “It’s not like we’ve been dating for three years or anything.”

“Anyways, season 3 is now streaming and if you wanna see more of us and our beautiful friends, go ahead and watch it! And we hope you enjoyed this as much as we did!”

[princesssmars]

hockey player!abby, skier!reader, and those stupid olympic beds. slight nsfw.

it was no secret to anyone that you and abby had a very healthy relationship. you fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, compatible mentally, emotionally, romantically…

and physically. definitely physically.

it only took a month after your first time together for her teammates to start teasing her, pointing out the purple marks trailing up and down her body in the locker rooms, how her mood has somehow gotten even more chipper, not to mention that time some frat dickhead flirted with you at a party and you showed up to a game the next day with abby’s custom jersey on a slight limp in your step…

it got to the point where just your presence at a practice pulled abby’s attention in like a black hole, the blonde constantly checking to make sure you were in the same spot and waving cutely at you before getting slammed by someone she was supposed to be guarding against. after a few times her coach had to temporarily ban you from coming, or at least wearing the ugliest piece of clothing you owned if you came.

so yes. everybody knows you’re both very satisfied.

now, when you picked up your phone and saw five missed calls from abby in the span of ten minutes in the middle of the day, it’s safe to say your heart nearly dropped out of your ass. pressing the call back button and holding the device up to your ear, nothing but the worst scenarios fill your mind until her fast breathing fills your ear.

“babe, oh my god! why didn’t you pick up!”

“abs what’s wrong, are you okay?” you try to keep your voice steady, knowing that your panic will only make her panic which would be the worst thing if she was in an actually dangerous situation.

“no i’m not okay. is it true about the beds? please tell me it’s not true.”

you can hear two of her teammates giggling in the bathroom and it takes everything in you to not hang up and the phone spend the next month at your own place.

“what….abby what beds?”

“at the games! the olympics! jamie said the ones in milan are gonna be cardboard. and that they had a ban on. well, yknow.”

you let out a long sigh, clearly a loud one if the increased laughter in the background of the call is anything to go by. you pinch the bridge of your nose and try your best to act sane.

“yeah, babe, they’ll probably be cardboard. but there’s no ban of sex, that were just some temporary covid restrictions in tokyo. don’t think one would work, anyway. thousands of hot athletes in a single village? let’s be serious.”

halfway through your explanation she lets out a relived sigh joined by a ‘oh thank god’, a plethora of laughs and faux kissing noises drowning out her voice.

“ugh, you two are so whipped.” jamie’s voice pipes in from the background, abby groaning with the tell tale sound of fake slapping ringing from your phone.

“why don’t you tell jamie to keep her mouth shut and worry about how her girlfriends had her in the doghouse for three week?”

abby cackles on the other side of the phone, pestering her teammate for answer before you hear the sound of her stomping away, the other girls following after her.

“gosh, thanks for that. they never stop pestering me about you. whatever, they’re just jealous i got to you first. and that i’m not sharing.”

your heart warms at her possessiveness, always giddy when she shows clear affection towards you. “aww, you’re cute. tell me when your practice is over and i’ll pick you up, take you to get some pizza and i’ll spill all of the drama i learned last week.”

“you’re the best. buttt now that i know there’s no ban, maybe after pizza we can start warming up for our post game activities.”

“abs, the games are two years away.”

“i always say practice makes perfect!”

last month i had a whole fantasy played out of abby and reader competing together in paris and having sweet ‘we’re in love and olympic champions’ sex before i realized their sports are winter olympics. which are in milan. 2026. i’ve never been the brightest.

[the-delta-quadrant]

here are some things that would help me as a blind person regarding online accessibility (mobile for me):

- all apps should display all text sizes (iphone goes up to 310%)

- all apps should display bold text if it's turned on in the system settings

- there should be a standard for text size; if my text size is 100% across all apps, then an instagram post, a toot, a text message etc. should all be the same size, no more "instagram and tumblr are always slightly smaller for some reason" bs

- an app's formatting (such as buttons, alerts etc) needs to be compatible with large text! large text doesn't help me if all the buttons are suddenly overlapping or i can't get out of an alert window because they forgot to program the ability to scroll. no more overlapping shit, no more missing shit, no more "i can't get out of this window without closing the app and changing my text size"

- usernames, channel names, all word and sentences should be fully visible even with large text! i don't know what channel "# ge..." is on discord. find a way to make it visible, either make it multiple lines, give me the ability to side scroll or make it move like a spotify song title

- make sure things that shouldn't be affected by large text aren't! if i need to scan a barcode and my large text settings make it unrecognisable to the machine, that's unhelpful

- all apps should have a light mode and a dark mode! certain conditions make it easier to see light mode, others make it easier to see light mode

- dark mode should be as high-contrast as light mode, i.e. white on black, not white on dark grey

- probably have other options beyond regular dark and light mode

- on apps that let you customise your profile a lot visually, give the option to view it in your phones' settings, i.e. if someone's got a dark red on black serif-font tumblr, i wanna be able to make it into a white on black plain font tumblr

- alt text should be accessible without a screenreader

- there should probably be a dedicated field for video descriptions too

- apps that give hashtags a different colour than the rest of the text should let you choose the colour

- all apps should let you view someone's profile picture in full size

- this one is specific to instagram: let us fucking zoom in normally! why do i have to do finger gymnastics just to stay zoomed in and read text on a picture? the zoom should work the same way it does in my photo library and literally everywhere else

most of these shouldn't be that hard and they would make my life a hell of a lot easier. i'm tired of running into issues because i'm too blind to read regular size text.

i WISH it was as simple as "describe your images" and "no fancy fonts", which is something people can easily choose to do to make things a little more accessible, and if they don't, i can unfollow and surround myself with people who post accessible stuff.

but all of the things i listed are things done my developers and not regular users, it's stuff i can't just ignore by surrounding myself with people who care about blind accessibility if the people who create the spaces don't care about blind accessibility.

[chocosvt]

HER | part three (m).

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

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 24.8k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

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

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

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

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

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

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

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

THE MIDWAY POINT 🎉 now i've just gotta prepare the last 3 parts! this is a chunkier chapter. it contains one of the longest scenes i've ever written (not even the full thing lol, it had to be split). but you'll see why, a lot had to "occur" :p

happy reading!! 💕

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

“Holy fuck—you really did lose your shoe.”

He hadn’t actually noticed until you were both inside his dim apartment, puddles of water now forming on the floorboards.

“I told you!”

Looking down, you had on just a black, sodden sock. With a suctioning and uncomfortably wet squelch, you managed to toe off your remaining sneaker, flinging it carefully onto the shoe mat.

Wonwoo did the same.

Thunder continued rumbling outside, with lightning hitting no more than a few seconds after. The strikes were like white knives in the sky, ripping and shearing apart the storm clouds of summer humidity.

“Jesus,” you huffed, hands moulding down your face to wipe away all the droplets, “I can’t believe you got me to run, first of all. Second of all, I can’t tell if I absolutely hated or thoroughly enjoyed that.”

“I liked it,” Wonwoo said.

“Of course you did.”

He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a dish towel to begin cleaning off his glasses and phone, not caring about all the water he was dragging so liberally everywhere. Once Wonwoo fit the frames back to his face, he was able to clearly see you still standing by the door, and he appreciated that you didn’t want to make a mess of his living room even though it wouldn’t matter to him one teensy tiny bit.

Your fingers picked in a distracted manner at the clusters of your dripping hair, meanwhile soft, watery mascara dappled down your arched cheeks, framing you akin to a detailed and evocative painting. That hemmed, white t-shirt was clinging in soaked wrinkles to your heaving torso and chest, revealing subtle imprints of all the bare skin underneath. And Wonwoo found himself looking. Not in a lecherous, tainted way, but in the simple fact that you were…

He suddenly bit down on his inner cheek, curled his hand into a fist where he could easily dig at the scars on his thumb.

To Wonwoo, you were so indescribably beautiful, standing near his doorway, soaked to the bone in the rebirth of rainfall.

He had always thought you were pretty, but in that moment, he knew it was more than just that—it was a realization that stopped the breath in his lungs and the heavy beats his heart was just barely making. At least, that was how it felt. Wonwoo sensed his panic flare up for a split second, and then it simmered away into casual nervousness. Before his eyes could linger long enough to get caught, he remembered to take a deep inhale and reground his thoughts. You stopped fiddling with your hair and sniffled.

“Um, is it okay if I jump in your shower? I mean—well, it’s your place, so if you want to get yourself sorted first, that’s fine.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind at all.”

You smiled back at him, adjusting the small leather bag strewn over your shoulder. He hoped your journal wasn’t soaked.

“Are you sure?”

“Well—okay, let me just run into my room and grab some clothes. I’ll dry off real quick in the washroom and change. I promise it’ll take me less than like, five minutes.”

“That’s probably best. I’ll just keep standing here.”

Hopping his way across the apartment, Wonwoo made it into his bedroom where he began ripping open the dresser drawers, pulling out some basic clothes like sweatpants and a hoodie. Then, he slipped into the washroom, peeling all the sopping, disgustingly sticky articles from his body and throwing them into the sink. Once he rubbed off with a towel, Wonwoo quickly got dressed—probably the fastest he’d ever put on clothes in his entire life. You were still standing patiently by the door when Wonwoo returned to the living room, having dumped his wet outfit into the laundry hamper.

“I’m making a colossal sized puddle right now.” You laughed.

“Ha—that’s okay,” Wonwoo answered, handing you a clean towel he’d pulled from his toiletries closet. “I’ll take care of it.”

You started walking toward the corridor, and then stopped.

“Do you think you have any clothes that might fit me? It’s just—I obviously don’t want to wear this again," you said, gesturing to the t-shirt and long skirt damply flush to your figure.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll look through my dresser and closet and pick out some stuff—you can see which fits best. I’ll throw your clothes and mine into the laundry as well—get it all clean and warmed up.”

“I’d love that, thank you.”

While you started undressing in his washroom, Wonwoo began sorting through all the clothes he had, pulling out older t-shirts and even some shorts, though he knew they most likely wouldn’t fit you. He heard you turn on the shower and wait for it to start heating.

Once Wonwoo was satisfied with all the options he’d picked, he knocked a few times on the washroom door. It was pulled open rather quickly, and he saw you standing in the threshold of thickening, hot steam, holding the spare towel closed at your chest.

“For you. There’s a whole bunch of sizes.”

“Okay, thank you so much. Do you want my clothes?”

“Yeah—that’s all of it?”

“Mmhm.”

“Okay. Take your time. I’m gonna run to the basement and get these in the laundry. I’ll probably be back up in like, five minutes. If you need anything else, just shout. I’ll be able to hear it.”

Wonwoo wasn’t sure how long it took you to shower, mostly because he was too occupied with looking out the windowpanes from his seat at the couch, watching the downpour continue, the evening dimness that flooded the room, and the liquified twinkling of city lights flickering behind all the rain. However, once you emerged from his bedroom and padded into the living area, dressed in a dark blue, logoed shirt from the neatly folded pile he’d handed you, Wonwoo had snapped back to the present. You smiled at him, and he saw that your face was now cleaned of the runny mascara and makeup.

“Oh—uh, our clothes are still in the laundry.”

“That’s okay,” you answered while walking around the coffee table. “I knew they wouldn’t be done right away. I’m fine to wait.”

Wonwoo proceeded to sit up straighter against the couch, rather than his slouched, wide spread position that he’d unconsciously sunk into before when staring vacantly into the rain.

“And, uh—just so you know, I’m wearing an embarrassing lack of clothes right now,” you admitted through your teeth, taking a ginger seat beside him. “So, like, not that I’m saying you’re going to be weird about it ‘cause I know you won’t be, but, do you have a blanket or something that I can toss over my lap?”

Immediately, Wonwoo got up from the couch.

“Yeah, there’s one in my room. I’ll grab it.”

He saw that your bag was also left in his bedroom, so he took it out with him, a few remaining droplets still bulbed on the surface.

“It’s probably not as soft as the one at your place.”

“Doesn’t matter.” You flapped the blanket out and settled it primly over your legs. “And thanks for grabbing my bag, too.”

Wonwoo collapsed back onto the sofa.

“I hope your journal’s not ruined.”

After fishing around inside the pouch, you pulled out your phone, and then the leather notebook, which was completely dry.

“Oh, thank God. I’d actually be so pissed if it was wet, probably more so than my phone.” You flipped through the pages, feeling for any splotches or tears. “I prevail, after all.”

Wonwoo smiled, and fluffed a hand through his hair.

“If you decide to stay longer because the rain won’t let up, I can always try to make you supper, or something. I can’t promise that it will be the best meal of your life, but I’m not that incompetent.”

“Oh—but what if I want something extravagant?” You smirked while flitting through your text messages. “Like buttery lobster with garlic mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables?”

He scratched under the pad of his glasses.

“Is that what you usually eat?”

“No. Only when I’m feeling super fancy. I force Mingyu to cook it for me because he’s good at that stuff. Really, I shouldn’t have to ask him—” you glanced at Wonwoo, smiling, “—he should just do it.”

“Well, if you decide to stay, I can make the next best thing.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

Looking into his kitchen, Wonwoo laughed at himself.

“Ramen.”

“Oh! I actually love ramen,” you exclaimed, shuffling up your legs under the blanket. “And I would totally stay, but I promised Princess that I’d come to her new place at six o’clock-ish to help do some unpacking. Once my clothes are all done, I’ll probably get her to come pick me up. I don't know when the rain's gonna stop."

“That’s fine,” Wonwoo replied with an accepting, warm expression, even though on the inside, he was rotting in disappointment because he would have given anything for you to stay and eat supper, maybe watch a movie afterward, order ice cream.

He hated when you would leave. It left him to swim alone with his own thoughts—mostly consumed by you—and dreadfully wait until he could see or hear from you again. As Wonwoo stared off into space, he felt the phone in his pocket buzz.

It was a text from Vernon.

[ Vernon | 5:05 pm ]: hey sir-dork-a-lot

[ Vernon | 5:05 pm ]:  you asked her about the party yet?!

Fuck. The stupid party. The Solar Pop incident with Mingyu.

Wonwoo had completely forgot that was somehow supposed to wedge his way into receiving an invite, when he didn’t even want to go in the first place. Parties genuinely weren’t his scene.

Especially the kind that Mingyu and his friend, Seungcheol, would throw. But, at the same time, there was this very small seed of curiosity planted in his stomach—that, maybe, Wonwoo should just shoulder off his hatred of loud, cramped spaces and obnoxious university students chugging all their drinks straight from the bottle. If he just tried his best to stay calm, stay level-headed, breathe, then perhaps Wonwoo could survive a night partying with Vernon, as fucking ridiculous and deluded as it sounded.

He glanced over at you, who was texting someone.

God. Did he really want to ruin this calm, comfortable moment right now to ask about your boyfriend’s big slosh-fest?

“So, I noticed in your schedule, like, two weeks into June, you’re gonna be off the call for three days, I think.”

You scratched your cheek, continuing to text.

“Oh, yeah. I thought I already brought that up, but maybe I’m thinking of a conversation with someone else.” Shutting off your phone, you started sliding it around the blanket while talking. “It’s this big party that Mingyu’s helping to host with his friend from basketball, Seungcheol. I don't know if you're familiar with him. They do it every summer. It’s always so much fun, but I get so fucked up that I need at least two days recovery.”

Wonwoo swallowed, feeling how dry his throat was.

“Yeah. I know Mingyu’s trying to get coke from Vernon.”

You stopped playing with the phone, instead looking immediately to Wonwoo through the rays of gradual light that began easing past the gentler rain. He held his breath.

“Right, Vernon.” You almost shuddered.

“Yeah…”

“If he can get his hands on it, then, fuck, I’m fine with that. Whatever. Mingyu invited him, of course. As long as he doesn’t slink up to me and try to convince me the ten different ways he can give me the best orgasm I’ve ever had, I guess I shouldn’t whine.”

Wonwoo was embarrassed for his friend—it was a pretty rough situation, he would imagine. Not his most shining moment.

“I know he’s your bestie,” you said, stretching your legs out onto the coffee table, “and I’m not going to judge you to your face, but I will be judging you, silently, in the recesses of my own mind.”

Snickering, Wonwoo rubbed a hand down his neck.

“The transparency’s nice, I suppose. But, yeah. I understand why you’d have a gripe with him. To be fair, he’s not that bad. He’s a good guy that’s wrapped up in some shitty habits. I’m sure you taught him a lesson that night. It gave him a serious degree of humbling.”

“Pfft. Did it, now?”

Wonwoo opened his mouth, but he didn’t speak, and it was then you doubled over in laughter at him, patting a hand on his knee.

“No, no. It’s okay. I’ll just deal.”

“I know you will… and, like, be safe and stuff.”

You grinned, shaking your head.

“Oh, yeah. No need to worry. I know my limits… okay—well, actually, I shouldn’t say that—I have a vaguely good idea of where my limits are, and sometimes I happen to surpass them. Not by ignorance, though. My mind is just too mushy at that point to care.”

“How incredibly rambunctious,” Wonwoo replied. “You’re probably blacklisted everywhere; a walking threat, actually.

“Oh, shut up,” you chuckled, folding your arms. “If you were trying to wiggle your way into being invited, I’m revoking it now.”

“Well, that soils my next question.”

You raised your eyebrows, “… which is?”

For a moment, Wonwoo couldn’t process that he was about to ask such a pathetic question. He tried thinking about it more as an out-of-body experience, where it wasn’t really his true conscience taking the sails. You kept watching him, waiting for his response.

Thankfully, you didn’t grant him the breadth to speak, and he was certain a lively hue of colour had just flushed back to his face.

“Oh, you’re being serious. You want to go?”

“Not really,” Wonwoo admitted, pushing up his glasses. “But, uh, I don’t know. It helps that Vernon will be there. I’m sure you can tell, I’m not a party person—not at all. Just, it could be a good opportunity for… um… well, I really can’t explain why, actually.”

“Hm.” Your eyes narrowed. “I assume it’s Vernon pushing you into it for some stupid reason… I mean, I have no issues with you going, of course!” He watched you adjust your legs under the blanket, tucking them back beneath you. “But just so you know, these parties are kinda intense and can be a major sensory overload—even for me! And I know that you don’t like talking about it but I’m not sure how well it bodes to put you in a position where you might have… uh, never mind, actually. I shouldn’t speak on stuff that doesn’t concern me. I just care about your wellbeing.”

Wonwoo pushed his lips together. A slight rush of something warm and tingly flowered at his core and he couldn’t tell if he absolutely loved it or wanted the feeling to wither up and die. More light streamed through his windows as the rain weaned off and the sky morphed from grey back to a softer, evening powder blue.

“I appreciate your concern,” he answered after an almost questionable silence, “I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Oh, sorry—I just wanted to be sure.”

“It’s okay.”

Neither of you spoke for a moment. Wonwoo twiddled his thumbs while you stared down at the blanket, presumably thinking.

“I would love for you to come, then.”

He caught you smiling at him after extending the offer in a quiet voice. The outside light filled up your eyes like a glass of swirling gold and Wonwoo believed your earnesty. And while he knew Vernon would be elated that he was able to come, Wonwoo was fighting to understand if he felt more relieved or terrified.

—JUNE 15TH.

Coming home from his long shift at the pharmacy, it was some time past eleven at night. The day hadn’t been extremely busy, but Wonwoo found it always slowed down the most dramatically when he was absolutely itching to leave. He tried his best to get relaxed, jumping into a warm but short shower, making himself a cup of chamomile tea, looking back on some favourite excerpts from the journal he kept buried away in the first drawer on his nightstand.

Wonwoo willed himself not to look at any screens. And, yet, as he sat in his bed, drinking the last few sips of tea from his hot, porcelain cup, Wonwoo’s eyes flickered across the room to his desk where his laptop was placed, and he felt this ticking urge to write.

At first, he wasn’t sure what to do.

After all, he’d been putting in a significant effort to fix that godawful, nightmarish sleep schedule of his, and while his ventures weren’t always the most successful, Wonwoo was making notable strides. To throw that all away—just to pick open his laptop and most likely end up staring straight into a lurid, white screen, while nothing of actual substance came to his fingertips—it was fruitless, and perhaps a bit stupid. He knew he needed to let that story die.

The longer it sat, collecting pixelated dust on his desktop, the more it made sense to simply delete it. Move on. Acknowledge the fact that this relationship he once perceived as so perfect and glimmering had ended, and trying to find some wisps of closure in forcing himself to complete a fizzled romance was pointless. It made so much sense. Besides, Wonwoo was happier now than he had been back in March, April, May. And, he could attribute much of that to someone he once feared and poorly understood—you.

It was hard to describe, but you had been this flare—a comet more like—that kind of blazed with an uncontrolled fire into his very bleak life. And while he’d definitely felt your scorching, uncomfortable sting more than once, he was able to realize there was something so unique and enriching about you. Because you weren’t just an uncontrollable fire, you were a full body laugh that made it hard to breath, but in the best, most treasured way. You were the quiet stillness of a pond, deep in the woods, listening to all the sounds that thrived around you, even though it didn’t always seem like it.

And you were this very soft, caressing breeze that always found Wonwoo, even when he was at his lowest valleys, giving him that sensation of a shiver to let him know that he was still alive and breathing and not so horribly numb as he thought himself to be.

That was something he’d never experienced before.

It scared him somewhat, but there was comfort in the thought, nonetheless. True, warm, and pure comfort.

Wonwoo sighed, blinking away from his laptop.

He should probably just go to bed.

Once he washed his teacup out in the kitchen, Wonwoo started brushing his teeth. That big summer party he was supposed to attend with Vernon was tomorrow night, and to call him nervous was a complete understatement. Wonwoo wouldn’t be surprised if he threw up. He would probably have to smoke a bit before leaving, just to mellow out. Of course, Vernon was overflowing with excitation, and maybe that was a good thing—he could be Wonwoo’s buffer.

Since your day together at the museum, Wonwoo had revisited your apartment twice to help with further proofreading and editing. He would be downright lying if he claimed that having to read through a memoire of your fulgurant love for Mingyu wasn’t disheartening or turning him occasionally bitter. Wonwoo wanted to be happy that you were so devoted to him, you could write an entire book detailing all your sweetest moments and fondest memories and the overall history of your love. But he wasn’t happy in the slightest.

You made him happy—not you, plus Mingyu

Continuing to brush his teeth, Wonwoo heard his phone ding once, and then again from his bedroom. And while he hadn’t wanted to look at any screens tonight, he figured that responding to a couple texts wouldn’t thwart all his progress. With the toothbrush still hanging from the corner of his mouth, Wonwoo flopped backward onto the bed and yanked his phone off the charger. While he was expecting the messages to be from Vernon due to their late sending, he was quite surprised to see they were actually from you.

[ Her | 11:50 pm ]: IMG.2102

[ Her | 11:50 pm ]: do I look pretty?

Immediately, Wonwoo shuffled up onto his elbows, tapping at the picture you had sent him. When he nearly choked on the excess of minty foam stuck in his mouth, Wonwoo quickly ran into the washroom to spit it all out. He recognized the outfit you were wearing in the photo—it was that white two-piece from the boutique in the mall that you had tried on, with the high-waisted, short, tight skirt and the strapped top that wrapped around the back of your neck and criss-crossed over your chest. Coming back to his bed to sit down, Wonwoo leaned over with an elbow digging into his knee.

Did you mean to send that to him?

For a moment, his thumbs just hovered above the keyboard, attempting to concoct a coherent thought in his mind. He recognized the large, silver-bordered mirror from your bedroom. And while the phone was slightly covering your face, you had this leg crooked up in a sweet, almost delicate pose despite the open and revealing nature of the outfit. Wonwoo rubbed under his glasses, huffing out deeply.

[ Wonwoo | 11:55 pm ]: Did you mean to send this?

He prayed you didn’t take his text the wrong way.

[ Her | 11:55 pm ]: um yes

[ Her | 11:55 pm ]: ur wonwoo, aren’t u?

[ Her | 11:55 pm ]: I just wanted to know what u thought of the outfit I’m gonna wear. I know u have already seen it. but just in case u forgot I wanted to send another pic lol

[ Her | 11:56 pm ]: u think it’s bad? :(

Sitting back against his pillows, Wonwoo completely forgot all about his ‘no screens’ rule, texting you as quickly as possible.

[ Wonwoo | 11:56 pm ]: No, it doesn’t look bad at all.

[ Wonwoo | 11:56 pm ]: You look gorgeous.

[ Her | 11:57 pm ]: and ur not just saying that?

[ Wonwoo | 11:57 pm ]: No, of course not.

[ Wonwoo | 11:57 pm ]: You’ll be the prettiest there.

[ Her | 11:57 pm ]: omgg thxx <3 okay I feel better now

[ Wonwoo | 11:57 pm ]: Why? What happened?

At that moment, Wonwoo actually received a text from Seokmin, but he rapidly flicked it away. Another text followed, and Wonwoo swore he flicked it away even faster, as though Seokmin was actually talking into his ear despite the quietness of his bedroom.

[ Her | 11:59 pm ]: Mingyu told me he doesn’t really like it bc the skirt part is too short and he doesn’t like the top. he says it’s too revealing and that everyone will just be looking at my boobs lol. but I don’t want to change it :/ I like how it fits and it’s not like i’m going to be doing cartwheels or gymnastics

[ Her | 11:59 pm ]: idk he just made me feel bad about it

Wonwoo proceeded to rub a hand through his locks of clean, black hair, pulling them messily all over his head as he thought.

[ Wonwoo | 12:00 am ]: Hm. Well I do agree that it’s revealing and you probably will have people staring at you. I mean, if you’re not uncomfortable by that it’s fine. You’ll just have to be careful if you bend over or dance around, that’s all :) But I’m sure you already know that. You look beautiful. Don’t worry too much.

[ Her | 12:00 am ]: okayy thank you so much! :)

[ Wonwoo | 12:00 am ]: No problem.

[ Her | 12:01 am ]: I’m so glad that ur coming

[ Her | 12:01 am ]: it makes me feel better

[ Wonwoo | 12:01 am ]: Hopefully I can find you.

[ Her | 12:02 am ]: I’ll text you, no worries

[ Her | 12:02 am ]: mkay well I should go to bed now!

[ Her | 12:02 am ]: goodnight <3

[ Wonwoo | 12:02 am ]: Goodnight.

At last, Wonwoo clicked off the bright glare from his phone, setting it down against his chest. For at least five minutes, he did nothing but lay remarkably still in his bed and stare up at the ceiling, thinking—as he usually did—about why he was feeling that way.

That very certain, specific way that was so demanding in his heartbeat to be acknowledged, except for the fact Wonwoo wouldn’t acknowledge it because then he’d throw up and probably lose himself entirely as he panicked.

Eventually, his thoughts were becoming too loud for his liking, and Wonwoo promptly tossed his phone aside and crawled underneath the covers before turning off the bedside lamp.

Even then, Wonwoo was restless. When he tried rolling onto his side, the uncomfortable poking against his nose reminded him he hadn’t even removed his glasses. At first it was too hot, and Wonwoo pointed his leg out from beneath the blankets, pushing all the sheets down to rumple at his waist. But then it was notably cold after a few more minutes, and Wonwoo angrily stirred all his blankets back up to mask over his face. No matter what he did or how he positioned himself or what limb he decided to sacrifice to the hot-cold air, he wasn’t going to fall asleep. Wonwoo’s eyes popped open again.

Patting around the surface of the bed, his fingers eventually brushing the phone and glasses he’d discarded, Wonwoo decided he didn’t care about going to sleep anymore if that was how his body was going to so painfully treat him. He shuffled up more against the pillows splayed at his back and checked the messages sent by Seokmin about half an hour ago—the two boys hadn’t spoken in a while, almost since their exams ended in May, and while Wonwoo would have ideally liked to keep in touch with his friend, he was laughably horrible at it. At least Seokmin seemed chipper.

[ Seokmin | 11:57 pm ]: Hey Wonwoo!

[ Seokmin | 11:57 pm ]: I heard you were going to Mingyu and Seungcheol’s party! I didn’t think that would be something you’re into but I’ll also be there, probably for a couple hours

Wonwoo swiped out from the texts, not really feeling anything or thinking much about their content, and opened some messages from Vernon that he’d received at work but forgot to read.

[ Vernon |  9:55 pm ]: need a drive 4 the party?

[ Vernon | 9:55 pm ]: let me know beautiful xo

He couldn’t help but muster a chuckle at the teasing nature of his friend’s texts, though Wonwoo didn’t respond, making a mental note to answer the next day, instead. For another moment or two, he continued sitting in the dark shadows of his room, staring down at the only light which caught the reflection in his glasses. Wonwoo’s thumb at first hesitated, but then he was reopening his earlier conversation with you, and with a few upward flicks, he was back on that cute photo you’d sent him. It hadn’t left his mind at all.

This huge lump of guilt had come to sit in his gut like an anchor for a reason that Wonwoo didn’t begin recognizing, that is until he finally felt the pull from somewhere deep inside him—the thought had entered his mind and he knew if he just ignored it for even a second it would dissipate. But then, Wonwoo didn’t ignore it, because he didn’t truly want that. He was going to be selfish in that instance and sink into the pull, the heat—not dismissing the thought but the guilt he would later drown in—the shame of it all.

Wonwoo kicked off his mask of bedsheets, letting them settle in a slow puff around his ankles.

In the beginning, all of it felt so bizarre. The hand that twisted underneath his sweatpants, and then his boxers, coming to softly graze fingertips along his hardening shaft—he hadn’t done this in weeks. Wonwoo rarely experienced sexual frustration. It just wasn’t something that bothered him. But the absent tendency would always build up and inevitably break at some point and he hated that you were the cool, breathtaking breeze to push him over that cliff.

With the edges of his fingers, Wonwoo continued to stroke along himself, up and down, just barely touching. It would make his knee jolt or his thigh twitch, but the longer he teased, the more each touch transformed. The pleasure was soaking through and leading him in deeper until Wonwoo tilted up his hips in order to shove down the elastic waist of his sweatpants and underwear. The air was so cold but dually welcomed against his erection that he began pumping to full length in his hand, feeling it throb and grow and stiffen.

Wonwoo let his eyes flutter toward the phone he was holding at his stomach, examining your figure from head to toe. It was wrong and he fucking knew it, but as he rubbed a palm at his most sensitive head and felt the cum start to leak down his cock, Wonwoo couldn’t bring himself to scale the acceptableness of his actions.

In that moment, Wonwoo looked at you in all the ways he shouldn’t. He pressed his head back into the pillow, eyes falling shut while he lubricated himself in squeezing, slow strokes with his own arousal. His fingers gripped the phone tighter, refusing to drop it.

You were bright and flashing in his mind and Wonwoo wanted to know all of it—he wanted to know the feeling of your silk, swollen lips leaving warm kisses up his shaft. He wanted to know the sensation of your tongue laving messy circles around his tip, teasing him, purring at him, staring up at him with those intimidating, sharp eyes that had always seemed beyond frightening. He wanted to know the sounds you would make if you ever so kindly allowed him to settle between your thighs. He knew how fucking beautiful your cunt would be and he could only imagine your taste would utterly melt him.

His fist wrapped tighter, pumped faster, and despite his usual quiet temperament in bed, a throaty, deep whine caught in Wonwoo’s throat. He took another look at your picture, and somewhere amongst the smog of pleasure that thickly hazed his logic, Wonwoo felt this transient, selfish anger, because in that moment, he wanted you. He needed you. He would do fucking anything you asked him and more because there was so much weight you held in his life. Wonwoo just wanted to make you happy and he couldn’t help but burn with the desperation to treat you better than anyone else ever had.

Knowing he was going to shatter soon, Wonwoo braced himself through the torture that was removing his hand and letting the intense, throbbing accumulation of pleasure ebb from his cock.

He gritted his teeth at the frustrating feeling.

But there was a reason for his decision. Looking back to the phone still aglow, Wonwoo swiped out from your picture and began scrolling higher up in the conversation, seeking out something particular that had jumped into his memory. And once he found it, there was an even denser feeling of guilt he had to ignore.

Last week, you ended up sending him a voice note because you were too exhausted to even bother typing. It wasn’t that the audio contained anything even relatively lascivious, since you were mostly just rambling about your day and never quite finishing a thought.

However, Wonwoo loved your voice. He loved hearing it in person and through his phone’s crappy speakers, especially when you sounded so sleepy, and your tone would soften, the occasional sigh or gentle breath hitting his ear just perfectly. Placing his hand back around his erection, Wonwoo hit play on your voice note and laid the phone beside his head on the pillow. He managed to smile through the pleasure that was rebuilding inside him as he intently listened.

“Um, hi, so—ah! Sorry, my phone just fucking slid under the covers, oh my God. But, yeah, I’m sending a voice note ‘cause I’m drop dead exhausted from today. It was the worst. My legs hurt so bad that I could hardly carry myself to bed. Ugh. Anyway… okay, sorry, I forgot what I was gonna say… oh yeah! So—”

It all felt too euphoric—too warm and overwhelming and the more Wonwoo listened to your sweet voice the more he felt himself pulsate with how badly he needed you. He planted one foot to his mattress, using it for stability and leverage as his hips thrust upward and he began unbridled fucking into his own hand. More than anything in the universe he wanted it to be your cunt—your pretty, wet, soft cunt cushioning him in and gushing all over him. He was going to drive himself fucking crazy at the thought, so much that Wonwoo began begging for you in his husky, deep, quivering voice.

Most was complete incoherency, dipping into confusing, jumbled whimpers of his English and native Korean tongue. Your voice was right there by his ear, though he was hardly processing a word. His orgasm was going to collapse over him like a tidal wave and all Wonwoo could do was succumb as he continued pumping his strained cock. His breathing was laboured, heavy. He kept stuttering and pleading for you into the sheer darkness of his bedroom.

Lots of “pl-please” and “f-ffuck, fuck, fuck!” and “m’gonna cc-cum for you, I want t’cum for you, I need it all inside of you, put it all so deep in your p-perfect cunt”—and plenty more tainted things he would take to his grave before he would ever confess to uttering.

As the voice note came to its end, Wonwoo had slammed his fist down for the last time. He immediately turned his cheek to the pillow, ignoring how the rounded glasses dug into his face, simply because his moan was too broken and shamefully loud. His cock started throbbing with the most intense pleasure he’d ever felt against his palm. The cum dribbled down his ghost-white knuckles. Wonwoo refused to even glance at the mess he was making. With a few more shaky pumps of his fist, he’d milked out all he possibly could, some spurts landing on his rumpled t-shirt. At last, he could exhale.

Lifting himself up with his clean hand, Wonwoo took a few moments to simply breathe. His entire body was still racing with adrenaline and hormones and the pure rush of his self-orchestrated ecstasy. But, pushing between all the energy was his guilt—the fact of what he’d just done and how he’d so blatantly used you to make himself feel good. Wonwoo glanced back at his phone and the voice note in the conversation. Immediately, he clicked the device off, and there was strictly still, shapeless blackness that surrounded him.

What the fuck had he just done?

How was he supposed to text you, look at you, talk to you, knowing he’d officially jerked off to your picture and your voice. Even worse—it was probably the best his masturbation had ever felt. It was all so fucking heavenly in the moment that he thought he might die.

Wonwoo had no idea what to make of his actions.

His feelings for you.

But he thought he should at least tidy himself up.

—JUNE 16TH

Before Vernon had come by in his car, Wonwoo was caught in an exhausting and sickening guessing game of whether or not he needed to throw up. His lower stomach was in complete knots, prompting him to pace back and forth outside the washroom door, because sitting down was going to make him ruminate even more over how terribly nervous he was. Thankfully, however, Wonwoo never threw up, and he was able to calm himself a bit by rolling a blunt, sparking it while sat at the open windowsill in his bedroom.

There was also help from the nighttime breeze that touched against his warm face, a sensation he had always found so soothing.

Just before ten at night, Wonwoo received the critical text from Vernon—he was parked outside on the street. He’d fully smoked his blunt at the time of the message, and he pathetically prayed to himself that his nerves wouldn’t sizzle back up at the worst possible time as he locked his apartment door. Once Wonwoo had stepped outside, he spotted Vernon’s old vanilla Camry stalled beside the postal box across the street. He was kind enough to reach over and push the door open for Wonwoo, who quickly shuffled into his seat.

Immediately, Wonwoo received his usual greeting.

“Hey, Glasses.”

He gave a nod back in response, buckling on the seatbelt.

“So, you smell like confusin’ mix of straight cannabis and a fuckin’ breezy Caribbean Ocean tide. How the fuck does that work?”

“Uh, I put on cologne. And then I smoked?”

“You nervous, then?” Vernon asked through his trademark conniving smirk, meanwhile he began steering out onto the street.

“Of course I’m fucking nervous,” Wonwoo almost laughed back at the obvious nature of the question and habitually checked his friend’s blind spot. “I don’t even go to like, dinner parties.”

“Pfft, I’m sure you’ll be fine. The good thing about parties like these—everyone gets so fucked it’s unlikely they’ll remember some nervous dweeb like yourself. Amongst all that chaos, you’ll blend straight in. There’s nothin’ to be shaked up about. I promise ‘ya.”

Wonwoo merely huffed in response, opting to let Vernon focus on driving and working the car’s outdated stereo while he checked his phone. Actually, Wonwoo had wanted to text you before he left the apartment, but he was still stomaching all the rigid guilt that came with jerking himself off to your pretty picture and voice note the night before. It was a stupid, stupid choice.

All those thoughts that had been stampeding through his head—wanting you and needing you and craving to belong with you in a way that could never reach true fruition—Wonwoo had to convince himself it was all meaningless. His mind had conjured those ridiculous sentiments when his logic was razor thin and overcome by the deception of his lust, and, therefore, he refused to accept those urges were even close to his actual feelings for you. He clicked his phone back off, not meaning to sigh aloud but doing so anyway.

Vernon then shot him a speculative glance through the rear-view mirror, though Wonwoo barely caught it. He looked out the window instead, at all the passing lights and people who were eager to spend their Friday night doing something stimulating.

“So, I know you’re probably just thinkin’ to yourself over there, as you usually do,” his friend said, fiddling with the radio until the static noise died back into music, “but I think it’s all too funny.”

Wonwoo scrunched his nose, continuing to watch the nightlife slip by his tracing eyes outside the window.

“Hm? What’s funny?”

Vernon chuckled. “All that shit you said to me, like, over a month ago. We’re not friends. And now, you n’Her hang out all the time. I think she’s pumpin’ some actual life back into you. You’re not like you were before, y’know? Which is good to see. So, what I wanna know now is—would you say the same? Or is she your friend?”

Right, Wonwoo remembered the conversation Vernon was referring to—the night his friend drove him home after a tiresome shift at the pharmacy. With his entire chest, Wonwoo had claimed you two weren’t friends. There had been a lot of truth to it, at least from his perspective. Or, maybe, he’d crushed down the prospect of it so vehemently because Wonwoo had just assumed someone like you would have no interest in honestly befriending him.

He could offer you something, and that was it.

But, now…

“You’d have to ask her,” Wonwoo answered, shrugging.

Instantly, Vernon groaned.

“God, that’s such a fuckin’ cop-out answer, Glasses.”

“Well, what the fuck should I say? Yes, we’re friends, but then you might go and ask her, and she’ll say otherwise.”

“So what?” Vernon engaged, raising his hand partially off the steering wheel in a half-gesture. “So fuckin’ what if she says that? If you think of her as a friend then commit to that. There’s nothin’ wrong with it.” His voice became firmer, more convictional.

Wonwoo tilted his head back against the seat. It’s not that he didn’t think you were friends—it was more so that he might to admit it, and then the relationship could all fall apart, crash like a burning, charred asteroid at his feet. And then Wonwoo would be back in the same self-inflicted crater he was before, thinking he had a genuine connection in his life only to have the rug pulled out from under him.

“… I don’t know.”

“No, you do know. But I see you wanna be all secretive about it and keep your cards close to the chest. So, whatever.”

Rubbing at the edge of his nose, Wonwoo took a quiet moment for himself to muse. He wanted another blunt.

“I don’t think she’ll be that excited to see me.” Vernon said.

Turning his head, Wonwoo looked to his friend and laughed.

“Yeah, can’t imagine why.”

“Think she’ll rip my head off?” Vernon joked with a big, gummy grin, relaxing back into his seat. “That might be kinda hot.”

“No—it would be traumatizing, actually.”

“She better not,” his friend answered, slapping his glove compartment and smirking pridefully. “I’ve got her goddamn coke.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ… I’ve never seen a street this packed…”

Vernon couldn’t help his awe from spilling out as he navigated at a snail’s pace down the road, each and every available spot that lined the curb being occupied by a vehicle. Wonwoo spotted a few groups making their way up the sidewalks, toward the colossal sized house to the distant right of the street. Seungcheol lived in Hill Crest, just like your parents, but he seemed poised at the neighbourhood’s opposite end—probably ideal for throwing an outrageous party that would otherwise magnetize the entire police task force to the door.

Wonwoo glanced down at his phone.

Seokmin had sent him a text a few minutes ago, inquiring if him and Vernon were close by or at the house. He sent a message back about the worrying lack of parking spaces, and then continued to help Vernon search through the overcrowd for a hopeful pocket.

“Fuck… this isn’t lookin’ good…” Vernon lamented.

“I doubt there will be anything close to the house,” Wonwoo sighed, folding his arms in doubt. “It could be best to make a turn or go around the block? We might just have to take a hike.”

“Hansol Vernon Chwe doesn’t take fuckin’ hikes,” his friend jabbed, antsy fingers sculpting into his bitten lip while the other hand catered to steering the wheel. “I have this dude’s blow. Doesn’t that earn me a VIP-guest-list-skip-the-line type plot?”

Wonwoo scoffed. “Should’ve sorted that out earlier, man.”

“Shut your dorky ass up. I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

At that moment, the phone slid between his thighs vibrated with another text from Seokmin. His eyes widened at the invite.

[ Seokmin | 10:40 pm ]: Oh dw about street parking!

[ Seokmin | 10:40 pm ]: Use the gate at the house

“I think you’re right. I might have to turn,” Vernon announced in a defeated breath, brushing a hand through his dust black hair. “Get ready to see the best three-point turn that’s ever been turnt.”

“Just wait one minute,” Wonwoo then answered, leaning forward in his seat as he began to text Seokmin for more details.

[ Wonwoo | 10:41 pm ]: Gate?

[ Seokmin | 10:41 pm ]: Seungcheol’s got a gate that leads to this little underground parking thing. Some of his and Mingyu’s close friends are using it. Her’s friends, too

[ Wonwoo | 10:42 pm ]: Uh… I don’t know haha.

[ Seokmin | 10:42 pm ]: I asked Seungcheol, it’s fine!

[ Wonwoo | 10:42 pm ]: You sure?

[ Seokmin | 10:42 pm ]: Yup

[ Seokmin | 10:42 pm ]: Gate code is #1142!

“Don’t turn around, go up to the driveway and look for a gate,” Wonwoo instructed. “Apparently, this dude’s got an underground parking space. Seokmin gave me the code for it.”

“Jesus Christ,” disbelieving laughter swelled up from Vernon’s chest as he proceeded along the street. “This guy’s like, rich-rich. I wanna see all that fuckin’ cash up front. Bills in every colour.”

Wonwoo was just relieved that Seokmin was telling the truth, though he was nonetheless extremely anxious about using the parking space, and something sharp in his abdomen tightened upon reaching that bronze gate. Vernon had to roll down his window and partially lean outside to press in the code read from Wonwoo’s phone.

They both cast each other a bewildered glance when the gate separated automatically, allowing them access down the slant.

“Rich people can just do whatever they fuck they want, can’t they?” Vernon laughed, shaking his head. “Remind me not to steal anything while we’re wanderin’ around in there.”

But Wonwoo couldn’t say anything even half-conscious in response to his friend’s lazy joke. He was too busy focusing his breathing.

“Jeez, it's about time, huh?” Vernon’s words sounded rife with electricity as they approached the main entryway to the house, the brisk, nighttime air blowing back against their heated faces.

They had already witnessed several people slipping inside and out, to which the shuddering, clear blurt of the music would escape the doorway—not that they couldn’t hear it already. The deep and rhythmic bass was emanating from within Seungcheol’s house like a growl caught in a beast’s belly, and Wonwoo could only fathom what kind of damage his eardrums might sustain after the night was over.

Right before Vernon could touch the handle, the doors abruptly burst open with an aggressive swing, revealing two girls who were latched hand in hand, giggling to each other. The distinct stench of marijuana clouded after them down the steps.

Vernon opted to catch the left door before it could close.

“After you, Glasses,” he invited with an almost glimmering smirk, then gesturing inward at the practical void that awaited him—auroras of flashing light, loud conversation, and pounding music.

It seemed like stepping into another universe.

“Thanks for the chivalry,” Wonwoo answered.

He then forced himself into the mansion, not allowing the empty space in his mind to concoct ample regret or doubt. Vernon followed suit, the large door slamming shut in a forbidding manner behind the two boys, akin to a shoving a cork on a glass bottle and capturing all the sand grains inside. Wonwoo knew he could leave, though it didn’t feel like it. However, he didn’t want to act defeated before even starting the night. Maybe some of Seokmin’s miraculous optimism gloss would rub off on him before it was too late.

The thing was, Wonwoo had no idea what to think or do nor could he develop one sensible, sound thought that he might express to Vernon—the house was alive with what seemed to be a mighty sea of people. Some were mingling with their drinks loosely held in an attempt to feign casualness, pitching conversation despite the unrelenting music. Others were clashed together, dirty dancing, hands carnally wandering, probably thinking nothing other than how good it felt to be a part of the moment. Everything was so dim and dark. Lights blotched around the room in deep purples and blues.

Wonwoo had suddenly forgotten how to even move.

Until Vernon’s hand slapped his shoulder.

“Hey, what should we start with?!” His friend had practically shouted over the music and its hypnotizing synths. “Do you wanna get a drink? Smoke one out? Or should we find Seokmin?”

For a moment, Wonwoo just stared at him, trying hard through the murkiness and heat to match the words he was hearing with Vernon’s lips. The environment would take a bit getting used to.

“Also—,” he then grabbed Wonwoo’s shoulder, “—let’s move away from the door before we get fuckin’ trampled, yeah?”

Vernon helped guide Wonwoo further into the main living area, down a few stairs and toward the large square of couches. There was hardly any room to sit without being uncomfortably close to someone else—they were either in another person’s lap, swapping a disgusting amount of liquored spit, or completely faded and about as coherent as a rock. Wonwoo didn’t want to sit, anyway. He looked down at his phone, noticing that Seokmin had texted him again.

“Um, what do you want to do?” He decided to flip the question on Vernon, not wanting to be tasked with the decision.

Besides, he assumed his friend would know better.

“Me? I want a fuckin’ drink!” Vernon began to look around, though the air was notably veiled with a thin smoke and all the bodies were obstructing much view of anything. “Oh—I told you already, didn’t I?! That I’m definitely intendin’ to get shitfaced?! Did you figure out a ride in case you wanted t’go home later on?”

As Vernon began his quest to find a drink, Wonwoo was right behind him, remembering that Vernon had mentioned it already.

“I know!” He called out while reading Seokmin’s text.

[ Seokmin | 11:00 pm ]: There’s like two big living spaces

[ Seokmin | 11:00 pm ]: We’re not in the main one tho, easiest way is to go through the kitchen and out the other side!

Wonwoo had thought you would text him, and he couldn’t evade his disappointment at the expectation. He decided to assume that maybe you just didn’t know he was there yet. At most, he hoped you weren’t too blasted and at least cognizant enough to hold a conversation with him. Though, Wonwoo had not one inkling as to what you were like at parties. He could only imagine from the scattered bits and pieces he’d heard from yourself and Vernon. 

As Wonwoo followed Vernon down a foggy corridor, he suddenly bumped into the boy’s hard back with a bothered grunt. A girl had stepped out from a threshold that led into the kitchen and he realized that Vernon was only letting her leave before they entered.

She leaned in rather close to Vernon’s face, stroking a quick, flirtatious hand along the divots in his defined chest as she lilted aloud, “thanks, gorgeous.”

Her gaze switched to linger on Wonwoo for what felt like a long, excruciating eternity before proceeding past them in a confident stride down the dark and narrow hallway. Vernon kissed his teeth, staring back at Wonwoo with that hedonistic twinkle in his eyes.

“Okay—she was fine, not gonna lie.”

“Mmhm,” Wonwoo mumbled, adjusting his glasses, “can we at least get a drink first before you decide to start fucking people?”

“Why do you think we’re at the kitchen, smart ass?”

Shaking his head in dismissal at Vernon’s snarky comment, he urged the boy impatiently into the kitchen area (which was admittedly larger than Wonwoo’s entire living space).

One side of the room was lined with arrays of salty snacks, while the opposite contained big, rounded punch bowls of pre-mixed alcohol that people were dipping into with ladles. Vernon had noticed the option to mix your own drink, and thus Wonwoo was dragged toward the kitchen island where the boys waited to pick from the various bottles of alcohol and soft drinks left scattered about.

Wonwoo peeped down at his phone again while Vernon got easily caught up in conversation with a girl preparing a lemon shot.

He finally answered Seokmin’s texts.

“Hey, Glasses!” Vernon’s hand latched onto his shoulder, giving it a shake. “This is Sierra! She’s gonna make us our drinks!”

It took him a moment to properly decipher the girl Vernon had been speaking to, though, the longer he squinted through the shifty kitchen lighting, the more he could separate her silhouette and features from the dimness. She had a comfortable smile, full and warm, trustworthy, and so Wonwoo merely shrugged his agreement.

“Don’t worry,” the girl shouted, pulling aside two solo cups and then twizzling off the bottlecap to the rum, “I’m a bartender, actually. I used to work Room 319. Now I’m at Honeymoon.”

Vernon leaned his elbows on the granite, watching with intrigue as she sloshed a decent amount of alcohol into each cup.

“Room 319? You’ve definitely seen some shit,” he cackled.

“Oh, yeah. One-hundred percent.”

“Y’know, I tried getting this cunt to go—” Vernon jabbed an accusing thumb back at Wonwoo, “—but he’s such a flake!”

Sierra proceeded to grin quite demurely, flashing a quick, barely detectable glance toward Wonwoo, who had just managed to catch it while shoving the phone back into his pocket. She then grabbed a sweetener from amongst the clutter, tucking a short tuft of hair behind her ear before adding a small drizzle to each solo cup.

“Hey, it’s not for everybody!” Her cheeks flushed in the galactic, purplish light that flickered around the kitchen. “And, uh, this may sound weird, actually. But I recognize you, I think.”

“Oh, me?” Wonwoo was finally forced to speak.

“Yeah, uh—” she stumbled over her words a bit as she swirled the sweetener around inside the cups, “—from Bradbrook’s calculus. I think you sat a few rows ahead of me, or something. I just know because I, um—I was really close to failing the class. When I went to her for help, she gave me a ton of resources, even said I could try asking you about tutoring. She said you’re like, her best student.”

“Hm,” Wonwoo hummed, cracking his neck, “I’ve never tutored anyone—don’t know why she’d think to recommend me.”

“It’s okay! I never asked because you seemed like the type who didn’t want to be bothered,” Sierra responded, beginning to top off the drinks with some bubbling soda. “I figured it out, anyway.”

“Good for you,” Wonwoo commended.

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure if it was you, ‘cause your hair would always be down over your forehead in class. But you’ve got it all brushed and styled and stuff. It looks super nice!”

He smiled at her and mumbled, “thanks.”

“Well, I’m gonna get running! No matter where I end up, I always seem to be everyone’s mixologist at some point.”

Vernon dragged the alcohol over, maintaining his slouched position onto the island granite. Upon taking an experimental sip to taste the flavours and potency, his face momentarily soured, and then all his features relaxed. He was glowing like an ember, almost.

“No, that’s good. Tastes a bit like a… gummy bear?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s so delicious,” she agreed, shoving hands into her back pockets. “Tastes even better kissing it off someone.”

As Wonwoo stared down at his fizzling drink, debating his first sip, he again felt the transient flittering of her eyes ghost him.

“Go figure,” Vernon rasped, smiling, “appreciate it, player.”

“M’kay,” Sierra chirped and waved, ”bye!”

Not even a few seconds after she left, and someone else swooped in like an eagle to clasp the bottle of rum she’d once been handling, Vernon turned his head to Wonwoo with a raised brow.

“She was DTF for you, holy shit.”

“Hm?” Wonwoo sounded muffled with the solo cup now perched at his lips, allowing the drink to seep into his mouth, tasting the smoothness of the rum, and then the sweet. “What’s that mean?”

“DTF?” Vernon echoed. “Down to fuck!” He smacked his arm.

“That’s stupid and absurd.”

“Well, Glasses, you’re fuckin’ stupid and absurd if you didn’t see it. I mean, if you’re not gonna get a chance with Her, mine as well start seekin’ out what you can. Might make you less uptight.”

“No—that’s what makes you less uptight, not me.”

“I’m just sayin’, man—you’re hot and you don’t even take advantage of it. In no shapes or figures… forms? Whatever the stupid sayin’ is. You’ve got to live a little. But, whatever. Where’s Seokmin?”

“Through there, I think?” Wonwoo nodded toward a high-arched exit opposite to the side they entered the kitchen from. “That’s what he texted me. But I’ll double check anyway, to be sure.”

Flashing on his phone, Wonwoo finally saw your messages.

[ Her | 11:11 pm ]: wonwooooooo

[ Her | 11:11 pm ]: LIVING ROOM! I'm waiting!!!!

And just like that—like a splitting snap of the fingers—he felt everything all over again, and those nerves steamrolled him in the most pathetic way possible.

He stared down at his phone, moonfaced.

Wonwoo was happy you had remembered to message him, embarrassingly giddy at the thought, even. But he was also downright nauseous to reunite with your inquisitive friends, to meet Seungcheol, to again push through the intangible, brooding weight of seeing Mingyu. He took a gulp from the red cup, swishing the tart but sugared concoction between his cheeks before swallowing, hoping the rum burned down all his nerves in the throaty sting it left behind.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo rediscovered his voice, “through there.”

At first, he couldn’t identify you anywhere. The room was even bigger than the kitchen, just as poorly lit, with a high, pointed ceiling that somehow reminded him of the church he attended when he was too little to even properly grasp religion. But Wonwoo continued squinting through the jumbled crowd, making slow steps and surveiling the room each time alongside Vernon.

“I don’t see ‘em!” He shouted overtop the music, grabbing Wonwoo’s elbow to stop him from moulding into all the warm bodies.

“He said they’re in here!” Wonwoo raised his voice, checking his phone for another text, but seeing nothing. “Fuck, I don’t know.”

Sensing that fluttering, unsteady wind in his chest, Wonwoo was eager to indulge in another sip from his cup, desperately yearning for the alcohol to fucking hurry up and take its floating effect. Yet, as the taste subdued on his tongue, Wonwoo was able to notice a slight fissure that formed in between the congregation of people—a rather perfect alignment that revealed a home bar across the room, with familiar faces seated at the stools and more laughing behind the counter. That was when Wonwoo saw you, captured in a brush stroke of sweeping, amethyst light that dappled down your body.

You were leaned leisurely against Mingyu’s chest, holding onto his arm that draped like a protective sling over your shoulder, and Wonwoo supposed it was laid there with a not-so-subtle purpose.

Mingyu was speaking to his friend and co-host, Seungcheol, who was on the other side of the home bar, his lower back digging against the counter while he had quirked his head to still see Mingyu.

One face that Wonwoo had yet to discern was Seokmin, though, in all his honestly, Wonwoo wasn’t that fixated on further searching the low dusk and marijuana plumes hanging tacky in the air. He’d found you. All those nerves dissolved into comfort.

Maybe it was shallow, but that’s what he cared about most.

“Oh!’ Vernon piped up. “Damn. They’re right down there.”

And, before the crowd could readjust themselves to drown the slivered space between yourself and Wonwoo, your head turned.

In the nick of time, you seemed to recognize him, because that hazy, unfocused nature about your countenance shifted in a mere second, and he saw a smile pick its way along your mouth, like a springtime garden at last twirling abloom. You proceeded to nudge Mingyu’s arm aside, whispering something into his ear that he didn’t quite seem to hear correctly as he maintained his lengthy talk with Seungcheol.

Wonwoo knew he was smiling, too, bigger and bigger.

You wove your way through the crowd, to which Wonwoo couldn’t help himself from the short chuckle he spat out as you impatiently shoved aside the guy that had stepped into your way.

“Move! Oh my fucking God—”

But your flash of contempt didn’t last long.

A second later, you were buckling into Wonwoo.

Your arms reached up to curl tightly around his neck, and he felt the grooves of your warm, soft body press firm against him for the first time. Wonwoo was scared at the proximity, though his pounding heart ever so gradually calmed as he took in a deep breath and smelled that faint, fresh scent—strawberries. While it was undoubtedly integrated with some sort of spicy liquor, Wonwoo didn’t care. He pulled himself into the moment—realized how fucking badly he wanted to drop the solo cup and splay his hands at the open, revealing back of your outfit and feel your bare, supple skin.

But he couldn’t. Because Wonwoo wasn’t your boyfriend.

And you weren’t his to so unabashedly touch.

“I’m so fucking happy you made it!” He heard you squeal into his ear, his smile somehow widening at your animated voice.

“Yeah? Bit of a hassle, not gonna lie," Wonwoo answered.

“Parking? I’m sorry! I should have texted you about the gate!”

“No, no,” he laughed, trying his best and gentlest way to somehow ease some space in between you, “it’s okay. Everything worked out perfectly fine in the end. Don’t worry about it, alright?”

“You sure?”

Wonwoo looked into your eyes, so enchantingly bright and glistering as you blinked at him sympathetically, wearing a tiny pout.

Fuck—he wanted to kiss you.

It was such a blatant, jarring thought that Wonwoo couldn’t respond to your worry straight away, instead pushing down his urges.

“… I’m sure.”

“Well,” you then hummed, at last relaxing your hold around his neck and making some very unwanted but necessary space between your bodies, “is it still true?” You bit your lip afterward.

“Hm? Is what still true?”

Upon Wonwoo furrowing his brow, you pressed into him again, reaching up to his ear where you could comfortably talk and not worry about whether the music would muffle every syllable.

He felt the warmth of your breath tickle at his skin. And then—shivers, everywhere. Trickling down his spine. His nape. Not the kind from chilly, cold weather, or a scary movie, but a different kind that prompted his sense to disintegrate in a simple second.

“Do you still think I’m the prettiest here?”

Wonwoo sensed the grin paint his face, as easy as melting butter, though he hid it well in your sweet-scented hair.

“Mmhm, ‘course you are,” he answered, purposefully deepening his already deep voice. “You’re always the prettiest.”

One of your charming, seraphic giggles feathered at his ear and Wonwoo had never been so convinced that he would exchange just about anything in his life to call you his for the entire night.

“Um, hey, so… I don’t want to fuckin’ ruin your guys’ little reunion or nothin’, but I am still here, unfortunately!”

Damn—Wonwoo had kind of forgotten that Vernon was even there, and hearing his gruff voice break through the room’s drumming bass had quickly removed him from his fantasy. In a way, he was relieved, because Wonwoo knew he’d been thinking with unprecedented delusion and he needed something to draw a ripple through his thoughts before he became too meek to ignore them.

You then slotted yourself against Wonwoo’s side, adjusting the white strap grooving around the back of your neck. One arm remained around his wideset shoulders, latching him into place.

“Well, that’s an immaculate face I haven’t seen in a while,” you deadpanned at poor Vernon, sculpting him up and down with shameless judgement. “And what have you been up to? Selling MDMA from behind porta-potties to dumb, gullible first years?”

But Vernon took it well, as he was most likely expecting it.

“So, I won’t say no or yes to that.”

“Hm. Figures.”

Vernon shook his head, mustering up a husky laugh. “Should I assume you haven’t gotten over our incident, yet?”

Wonwoo felt your ovaled, sharp fingernails dig into his shoulder, and he settled his hand on your upper back to relax you.

“I’ll get over it when I want to get over it.”

“Okay, okay." A smile bled across Vernon’s face. “And I respect that, yeah? How ‘bout we both agree to keep it lax? That work at all?”

Despite your narrowed, seething eyes, you agreed.

“It works, for now.” You were in the midst of turning around, as though to begin pulling Wonwoo toward the bar, but you suddenly stopped on a dime, returning your glared focus back toward an unsuspecting, more lenient Vernon. “By the way, Princess is in a relationship with Seungcheol, so paws off. And don’t even think about trying to fuck Clara or Bells again or else you’ll need to take every single pill you fucking own in order to feel even a fraction of anything after I’m done beating your breaks off. Understand?”

“Uh, yes. I do. I understand.”

And then you grinned, though it was colder than outer space, and Wonwoo was more than pleased he wasn’t on the receiving end.

“Perfect! Now, let’s get everyone all introduced. I promise, though, there’s not many strangers. I guess just Seungcheol? Some of his friends are around here somewhere, I don’t know where.”

You curled an arm around Wonwoo’s elbow and began tugging him into the barricade of people, most stepping aside for you without request, like you were a princess or some other type of respected royalty. Wonwoo glanced back at Vernon who was already giving him a wide-eyed, skeptical expression, and so he made sure to dip his head close to Vernon’s ear to murmur some encouragement.

“At least your head isn’t ripped off.”

However, it might have not been the most thoughtful.

“Yeah, meta-fuckin’-phorically it is,” Vernon laughed back. “I forgot how scary the chick is. How have you not pissed your pants yet?”

“You get used to it after a while. N’hey—when the hell did you have sex with Clara and Bells?" Wonwoo couldn’t help himself from asking over his shoulder as he was further pulled along by your persistent guide.

“It was before you got to know Her, alright? But—” Vernon had suddenly leaned closer, his breath at Wonwoo’s ear, “—Bells is a fuckin’ homie hopper. Guaranteed she’ll try to get into your pants. I know she’s tried it with Seungcheol, Seokmin, probably you, tonight.”

“Well, you two sound like a match made in heaven.”

“Ha! Funny, man,” Vernon cackled, shoving his friend’s back in a teasing way. “No—she’s actually crazy. Gives good head, though.”

Wonwoo opted to ignore the last comment. He was soon at the bar alongside you, Vernon, and all the others, to which he noted your arm was still clasped around his elbow, a gesture that Wonwoo found himself greatly appreciating as everyone began pausing their own conversations to acknowledge the two newcomers. He didn’t know who to look at or greet first as his heartbeat thundered, though he recognized Clara and Bells seated together on two leather stools, a few emptied shot glasses aligned before them like dominos.

Princess, the friend Wonwoo always thought you were closest to, was behind the counter with Seungcheol, staring Wonwoo down through her hooded and smooth brown eyes. He felt Mingyu watching him too, though it discomforted him much more than Princess.

“Hey, nice to meet you guys, finally.” Seungcheol was leaning over the luminated countertop, bumping his fist against Wonwoo’s, and then Vernon’s. “Hope you’re finding it alright.”

Wonwoo had never met Seungcheol despite hearing his name frequently throughout campus, especially during the prime months for partying. The consensus was that everyone seemed to like and respect him for his cordial, easygoing attitude and sportsmanship, since he played a lot of basketball for the university’s principal varsity team. Wonwoo had never once heard anything concerning or relatively malicious about the guy. He was almost akin to a celebrity.

“We got in not too long ago,” Vernon explained, and Wonwoo was grateful he took the conversating initiative, “seems crazy. And thanks for lettin’ us use your garage! Street parkin’ was ass.”

“Shit, yeah. I get it.” Seungcheol shrugged in agreement, meanwhile drawing a shallow glass over to himself. “It’s no problem, man. You did us a favour with the blow. I’ll pay upstairs, yeah?”

“Hey, it’s all good. What’re you pourin’ up?’

Princess suddenly reached around Seungcheol’s shoulder, removing the large, maple bottle he was about to twist open.

“He’s not pouring up anything,” she smiled, placing the alcohol on a shelf behind her, “because whiskey gets him beyond hammered, and I need him coherent for at least another hour.”

Seungcheol turned around, his mouth hung open.

“Okay—I was gonna pour out a splash.”

The girl grabbed his sharp jaw, giving Seungcheol’s face a tender shake before pushing her lips against his. His previous objection suddenly disappeared like morning dew. For a couple that had recently started dating according to your allegory, they seemed remarkably comfortable with each other.

“Okay—shot, shot!” Bells yelped excitedly, slapping her hand against the polished countertop as Clara grabbed a tequila bottle.

“Oh, god.” Your eyes rolled, and Wonwoo heard the exhaustion in your tone. “Have fun getting alcohol poisoning.”

Mingyu scoffed, crossing his broad, buff arms. “They’ll be blackout in less than an hour.”

“What for?” Vernon asked.

You finally let go of Wonwoo, grabbing your own solo cup off the countertop and taking a fast swig before answering.

“Whenever Seungcheol and Princess kiss, they take a shot.”

“And they kiss a lot—" Clara hiccupped, a very inebriated fog cast across her gaze, “— even more than Her n’ Mingyu!”

“Oh, don’t bring us into this,” you snapped from behind your drink, leaning an elbow onto the bar, “take your shot and can it.”

“I’m starting to not even taste it!”

The giggling spilled from Bells’ mouth like a waterspout, to which both her and Clara leaned in close to each other’s faces, their expressions warping with breathless, dry gulps of laughter.

“Excuse them,” Princess then muttered, resting an arm along Seungcheol’s firm back, waves of moonlit blue dancing across her dark skin while she eyed her cackling friends with bits of judgement and concern. “I’m starting to believe they have an alcohol problem.”

“So, if I lose you later, should I assume you’re in the washroom holding back their hair?” Seungcheol then huffed into his clasped hands, flicking soft eyes up toward his sighing girlfriend.

She pulled at a long braid of her hair, nodding.

“If I’m not, I’ll buy you dinner.”

“Fuck, I like those odds, baby," he rasped, leaning back.

Princess smiled, squeezing his shoulder.

“No, you absolutely don’t, sweetheart.”

Wonwoo smiled at them, exercising his best effort to follow all the conversation even though his brain was whirring on overdrive. He was in the midst of sipping from the sweetened rum when Clara’s eyes snapped akin to a locket with his own, and she immediately squealed.

“Oh! You! From Spring Street! Mr. Deep Voice!”

Lowering the cup from his face, Wonwoo’s heart dropped.

He was more than perfectly okay with sitting on the sidelines and contributing nothing to the flow of conversation other than trivial nods and agreeable half-smiles. But Clara had singled him out, and now Bells was at last squirming around in her seat, her eyes patted with a popping, brilliant lime green as opposed to shimmery blue.

You tilted your head in questioning at Clara. “Yes, yes, we’ve been over this, girl. He’s been standing here the past five minutes.”

“Wonwoo!” Bells shrieked. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“He doesn’t need to say anything.” Wonwoo heard the irritable grit rub through your voice as you straightened your posture and propped a hand to your hip, glaring at your friends. “Why don’t you let him enjoy his drink instead of shouting at him?”

From behind, Mingyu’s large hand slid around your waist and stopped at your lower stomach, pulling you a step back into his chest.

“Relax. She’s drunk as fuck, alright?” He murmured by your temple, planting a reassuring kiss.

“Nah, it’s okay.” Princess was quick to diffuse any degree of tension before it could morph into a terrifying flame. “He’s just quiet, that’s all. Nothing wrong with it. I like your hair, Wonwoo.”

He clenched his fist tight, nodding at her.

“Thanks.”

It was only one goddamn word, but he’d choked it out with all the strength harboured in his chest and lungs. Princess smiled at him.

“Glasses is cool. All his jokes will come out later.” Vernon teased despite the instant, needling stare Wonwoo shot his way.

“Hey, no pressure,” Seungcheol laughed, swiping his phone off the bar countertop. “Should we all head upstairs? I’ve got a nice little room set up for us—can smoke and mellow out a bit, play some cards, finally get to that blow—whatever you guys think is best.”

“Fuck, I’m down.” Sliding off the leather stool, Mingyu came to his feet and agreed, his hand still settled at your stomach.

His utterance was met with a chorus of likewise answers.

Wonwoo suddenly felt your fingertips graze his hand.

“Are you okay with that?” You asked him personally, smiling in a reassuring, nonchalant manner that helped ease his stiltedness.

“Yeah,” he answered, delighted to see the sparks that jumped into your eyes through the shadows and nebulas of lavender light.

The room Seungcheol had referred to was quite separated from the party booming onward downstairs, though he claimed not to be worried about it much since his other friends were keeping tabs on all the action. Wonwoo appreciated the quieter, more laidback atmosphere that allowed him to actually think and analyze his situation, which he unfortunately could not help himself from doing.

It was a cozy and personally developed space—probably the room Seungcheol spent most of his time in. Large, pristine movie posters were perfectly tapered to covering an entire wall, with stringed, dull-glowing lights swooped around the wooden infrastructure of the ceiling. A billiard ball table was toward the left, and then a circular table to the right, stacked with miscellaneous things such as playing cards, textbooks, and poker chips.

There were some shelves by the windows, mostly to hold decorative items, though Wonwoo saw a number of trophies from what he assumed to be Seungcheol’s past sports competitions. 

Everyone began to settle.

As Vernon waltzed over to the couch by the cluttered table, he’d suddenly looked down at the cushions with a gruff shout.

“Fuck! Jesus Christ, Seokmin! What the fuck are you doin’?”

“Oh, yeah—the poor baby got a headache,” you crooned, walking toward the couch with a teasing smirk. “He thought he’d try and avoid all of us by coming up here and taking a nap.”

“I wasn’t napping,” Seokmin grumbled while pushing himself to sit up, swatting back your hand that rifled through his dark brown tresses disarrayed in every direction, “I was relaxing, that’s all.”

“Dude, you looked like you were dead,” Vernon laughed, stepping around from behind the couch to sit on the arm.

Leaning against a desk with two large speakers on it, Mingyu folded his arms, smiling at Seokmin whose face was beginning to tint red from all the attention. “That’s just how he looks when he sleeps.”

“Thanks…” Seokmin answered, standing up and dusting himself off. “Guess I’m never staying the night at your place again.”

“Well, if you’re not going to take the couch, I think these two should simmer down for a hot minute,” Princess said, shuffling the stumbling, giggling duo, Bells and Clara, to take a much needed seat.

“Okay, yeah. Mingyu, throw on some music. Give everyone a chance to get nice n’ comfy.” Seungcheol then beckoned toward Vernon. “Over here, man. Let’s get this shit sorted out.”

“Ah, right, right.”

His friend was quick to rise from the couch and meet Seungcheol in the corner of the room, by the billiard table as well as a small black safe. Mingyu pulled out his phone, linking up his Bluetooth with Seungcheol’s expensive sound system, and music soon replaced the empty air in the room. He then joined Seungcheol and Vernon in the corner. Wonwoo opted not to sleuth and glanced elsewhere.

He saw that you were already talking to Princess, the two of you pulling out some beers and other drinks from a fridge he hadn’t noticed before, and while he positively wanted to make time for a conversation with you, Wonwoo thought he should bother Seokmin first. The boy was shoving open a windowpane across the room.

“Hey, liar,” he announced in a dragging but not overly serious tone. “Not downstairs like you said you were, huh?”

Seokmin turned around, rubbing his face.

“I know, I know. I got a headache at the last minute. But I knew everyone would come upstairs. Glad you could make it!”

“Well then, how much of a headache should I be expecting?”

“Eh, depends,” his friend answered.

Wonwoo shrugged. “Depends on what?”

“I can’t imagine you jumping around on a countertop with your shirt off and a whippet in your hand.”

He snorted. “Is that what you were doing?”

“No—I was the one trying to get them off the counter.”

“Fair.”

 “I think you’ll be fine. At most, you’ll step outside for some air and get a nice breeze in your hair. No biggie… what’s that?”

“Uh, just a drink this girl whipped up. Sierra.”

“Oh.” Seokmin’s eyes brightened. “You mean Sierra Gomez?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Did she have like, chin length, sort of coarse and frizzy brown hair? Freckles all over her cheeks? ‘Cause that’s Sierra Gomez. She works at the… the, um… Honeymoon! Yeah. The Honeymoon. She’s nice—used to stare at the back of your head all the time in calculus.”

“Hm.”

“Anyway—whatever—random thought.”

“Who used to stare at the back of your head in calculus?”

Turning around, Wonwoo noticed that you had approached their conversation at the open window, an abrupt flourish of wind sweeping back unto your inquisitive yet slightly firm expression. A bottle was in your hand, and you took a quick, easy sip from it.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Seokmin dismissed.

“No, tell me.”

Your eyes then flitted between himself and Seokmin. There was an innocent smile on your face that nursed the beer bottle.

“A girl who used to look at Wonwoo all the time during calculus with Bradbrook. She made him his drink, that’s all.”

“Really? Is that so?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Apparently.”

“Who?” You asked, still maintaining that polished smile.

Seokmin chuckled, “nah, you wouldn’t know her.”

“Maybe I do.”

“No,” he was persistent on convincing you, pulling at the flushed cusp of his ear, “I know you don’t. It’s not a big deal.”

Your focused gaze then lasered into Seokmin, and much of the airy politeness to your voice had gradually sharpened out.

“If it’s not a big deal then tell me.”

Music from the speaker system atop the nearby desk drowned the momentary silence that lasted between the three. Wonwoo concentrated on the lyrics and the depth of the sensual beat, trying his hardest to mentally escape the odd tension smouldering up.

Seokmin was biting his lip, hard.

“Tell me.” You now were demanding rather than asking.

“It’s not—”

“Seokmin!”

“Okay, okay! Sierra Gomez. That’s the girl.”

Wonwoo shifted his eyes to you, observing the manner in which you quirked your head, pursed your bottom lip, and began staring around the room in an honest attempt to place the name that Seokmin had so frighteningly blurted, almost like a suspect under interrogation. And then you were shrugging, sipping from your cold drink.

“Hm, don’t know her.”

“Like I said...” his friend sighed, leaning backward into the cool breeze and settling his hands against the windowsill.

“She’s here? And she made you that?” You asked.

Wonwoo looked down at his cup, almost completely emptied.

“… Um, yeah.”

There was a nearly imperceptible falter that spilt across your face, though it travelled so quickly, like a blink of light, and Wonwoo was starting to think that maybe he hadn’t even seen it at all.

“Well, that was really nice of her.” A strange breathiness lingered in your tone. “I mean, I don’t know her but she sounds really… nice. I’ll have to chat with her someday. I don’t know what we’ll talk about… something nice, probably. Yeah. We’ll do that.”

Upon sensing your very unusual discomfort, Wonwoo thought he might try to quell whatever series of emotions must be taking shape behind those glassy eyes. But almost from thin air, Mingyu was at your side, sliding an arm around your waist and his head poking down to kiss your cheek. Wonwoo ate his words right back up.

“Sorry to bite the conversation,” Mingyu excused himself, removing the arm from your waist to hang off your shoulder instead, where it covered the same revealing patch of your cleavage. “But I like keeping an eye on this one—” he pecked your temple, “—one sip she’s normal, the next she’s on top of the damn table giving everyone a fuckin’ show they don’t deserve. Hard to tell what she’s gonna do.”

Your uptight posture melted habitually against Mingyu’s chest, meanwhile a slight snarl forged across your lips.

Wonwoo knew that his drink was getting empty, and he didn’t want to waste the remainder on trying to survive the unfortunate conversation he’d been whisked into. He realized how much he hated talking to Mingyu, especially now that Wonwoo was closer to you.

“Alright, you don’t need to overembellish.”

“Ha! Overembellish?” A heavy laugh flew off Mingyu’s tongue as he gave your shoulder a soft shake, staring down at you with his curious, twinkling eyes. “What am I overembellishing, pretty girl? Huh? You don’t remember that dance with Clara? Kicking that dude’s drink off the table? High out of your fuckin’ mind, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I remember. My problem is that you’re painting me out to be a mindless slut just waiting to show off. It’s not like I go into these situations, intending to get on a table and kick people’s drinks and shit. I’m just going with what I feel in the moment. I mean, I’m sure it gets a bit slutty. But that’s part of the fun. At least, I think.”

Okay—Wonwoo didn’t give a fuck about preserving his drink any more. He immediately dove in to take a generous sip, staring down the cup like there was something profoundly captivating scribbled on the bottom. Now that he was thinking about it, Wonwoo realized this is his first time witnessing your dynamic with Mingyu.

Mingyu sighed, tongue prodding against his inner cheek.

“Can’t make it easy, can you?”

At that, you cackled, tipping your head against his neck.

“Never. You should know that by now.”

“The important thing is, everyone has a good time.” Seokmin decided to add his two cents, not seeming as stiffened by the conversation as Wonwoo, probably since he was accustomed to it.

Nonetheless, it prompted your signature eye roll.

“Hey everyone! Seokmin thinks the most important part of a party is that everyone has a good time!” You mockingly chided, proceeding to raise the bottle to your mouth for another sip while Mingyu rubbed his nose, laughing. “Did that really need to be said?”

Partially closing the window, Seokmin chuckled. “I’m just saying it ‘cause you guys always bicker and bring the mood down.”

Your grip around the beer bottle visibly tightened.

“Bicker?! We don’t bicker!”

“Are you serious?” Seokmin folded his arms, a disbelieving smile mixed with puzzlement carving his mouth. “You just did!”

“No, that wasn’t bickering," you stated. “That was Mingyu saying something stupid and me correcting it. Purely factual.”

Shaking his head, Mingyu merely smirked. “Mmhm. Let’s go with that.” Though, it was quite obvious he was holding back what he actually wanted to say, but didn’t want to prove Seokmin’s point.

“Anyways, I’m not trying to make you look bad,” Seokmin mumbled, brushing a hand along an itch on his arm. “So, whatever you see here, Wonwoo, take it with a grain of salt, I guess.”

God, no.

He’d wanted so desperately to remain invisible—to not be summoned into the conversation in any way, shape, or form.

“Please,” you sounded exasperated, messing about with your hair, “I’m sure Wonwoo’d be the last person to care, anyway.”

At the worst possible time, he’d completely exhausted his soda and rum, and there was not even a single drop for him to make a lame show of sipping up. Wonwoo didn’t know whether or not to say anything. Maybe, if he just smiled genuinely, nodded his head, then everything would keep moving and he could somehow escape the burdensome pressure. However, what he failed to realize was that his overthinking gave him a very dazed expression that made it seem as though he wasn’t listening at all. Seokmin suddenly slapped his arm.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Dude’s not even paying attention. Mentally checked out ‘cause of your arguing.”

“No. I’m listening,” Wonwoo answered, knowing the longer he stayed quiet the more guilty and strange he’d appear. “I just figure it’s better to let you guys hash it out. I’d rather not get involved.”

“Smart,” Mingyu huffed, to which Wonwoo found himself in the crosshairs of his intimidating gaze. “Best not to pick sides, right?”

“Oh my gosh, there are no sides.” Elbowing the tall, dark-haired boy gently in his rib, you shook your head. “And even if there were, I’m forcing him to take my side. You obviously have Seokmin.”

“When you are going to stop saying that?” Mingyu sounded notably annoyed at your comment, though you merely shrugged it off, instead wrapping a small hand with his in a successful attempt to pull him away from the conversation at the breezy window.

“Don’t whine, Gyu. Let’s go talk to Princess.”

Once you were gone, Wonwoo looked to Seokmin with some vague hope that he would share his astonishment at the situation. He couldn’t tell if you and Mingyu just clashed so naturally because your relationship was the long lasting, weathered kind where there were lots of little quips due to your shared comfortability. Or, maybe there was something else he was missing. But Seokmin didn’t seem even relatively phased, which lead Wonwoo into thinking that it was his overanalyzing brain picking things apart unnecessarily.

“Oh, I’ve gotta talk with Vernon for a sec.” His friend remembered, pointing out the tattooed boy who was closely admiring all the expensively framed film posters. “Nice to see you, though!”

The second Seokmin had slipped away, Wonwoo occupied his old position against the windowsill, letting his head tilt back until it bumped with the glass. A timidly building sickness ached in his stomach at the worry of all his conversations feeling like that—so agonizing, uncomfortable, with his mind racing a mile a minute.

He sighed aloud, attempting to steady his breathing.

Things would get better. They had to.

“Hey, Wonwoo! You wanna sit?”

Following the abrupt voice over to the now organized, tidied table, Wonwoo saw that it was Seungcheol who called his name. He tilted his head at an empty seat and Wonwoo decided to take the boy up on the offer rather than stumble into the undertow of his self-inflicted panic. Besides, Seungcheol was fairly relaxed and seemed easy to converse with—a much needed repose from Mingyu. As he sat down, setting his empty cup aside, Seungcheol leaned forward with his chin pressing down between his thumb and index finger.

“You okay?” He asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Wonwoo nodded. “I’m good.”

Relaxing back into his seat, Seungcheol smiled.

“Just making sure. I know it’s not always the easiest trying to make it through a Her-Mingyu-Seokmin three-way—pause—ignore how weirdly I phrased that,” he laughed, rubbing along his jaw.

The air around Wonwoo tinged with an immediate sense of relief, and he found himself relaxing, too, stretching out his legs.

“Yeah,” he then breathed out deeply, the tension in his chest loosening up. “I assume it’s best to just shut the fuck up.”

“Mmhm.” Seungcheol was eager to nod in agreement. “Yeah, exactly. Shut the fuck up, and give the most neutral answers if needed. It’s honestly a skill. You’ve gotta be a world class fence sitter.”

“So it seems.”

“Anyway, I’m curious—what’re you studying?”

“Nothing exciting. Mathematics, specifically calculus. I like a bit of data and statistics, too. I don’t know. Just, analyzing stuff.”

“Hm,” Seungcheol crossed his arms, grinning, “can’t say I’d be very good at all that. You want to be a data analyst or something?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve thought about teaching, too.”

“University?”

“Yeah… I heard you’re in biomedical now.”

“Mmhm—switched my whole degree—can thank Junhui for that. He’s around here, somewhere. I like it, though. No regrets about it or anything. Besides—” Seungcheol turned his head toward the billiard ball table where Princess was chatting with you and Mingyu, a fond, amorous expression softening his face, “—that’s how I met Princess. I mean, she’s so intelligent, level-headed, thoughtful. Finally worked up the courage to ask her out, like… two months ago, now? Things have been smooth sailing since.”

“I can see that. You guys mesh together well,” Wonwoo answered, at first staring at Princess, but sensing his eyes naturally drift toward you and that tight hold Mingyu had at your bare waist.

“Thanks, man. Hey—I should say congrats, by the way.”

“Hm?” Wonwoo mumbled, spreading his legs. “What for?”

“Frontiers. You got a super good score.”

“Oh, that… uh, thanks. I mean, it was last year.”

Seungcheol’s face immediately scrunched with laughter.

“What?”

“Shit. It’s nothing.” Seungcheol was still chuckling a bit between his breathy words. “I love how you shrug it off. Like, whenever your name comes up, it’s always next to how smart you are, man. I love that you don’t even fucking care. If that were me, I’d be the most pretentious piece of shit—it’s actually insane.”

Wonwoo paused for a second to think, looking at his sneakers, and then back at Seungcheol, the cogs in his mind beginning to whirr.

“I didn’t think my name would come up much. If at all.”

“No, no, it does,” he answered, bouncing his fist off the table with another chuckle. “Hey—you get around more than you think.”

Maybe Seungcheol’s words were supposed to be uplifting, or rewarding to hear, but Wonwoo felt his stomach drop and a horrible, papery dryness spread throughout his mouth. He absolutely hated the thought of people talking about him, discussing him, perceiving him.

“Oh, yeah! Shit, I’ve been meaning to ask—” Seungcheol brightened and shuffled further up in his seat, “—Mingyu says you speak Korean? Were you born there, or from your parents, maybe?”

Wonwoo picked at his thumb slightly.

“Uh, yeah, I do. I was born there.”

“Same. Daegu.”

“Changwon.”

Seungcheol smiled, and when he switched so fluidly from his English to Korean, Wonwoo needed a moment to comprehend the different syllables and speech patterns hitting his ear. It was almost like a glitch, but it was infinitesimal, and Wonwoo processed it quick.

“Mingyu didn’t know where you were born. He just said he’d spoken Korean with you. It’s nice to hear, right?”

“It is. My parents still live in Changwon. Though their English is limited so I hardly ever use it with them.”

Nodding his head in understanding, Seungcheol then propped a leg onto his knee and began to grin. “It’s the same for me. I don’t know if Mingyu’s told you—he wasn’t born there but his parents spoke it around him growing up.”

“I’ve heard…”

“So Seokmin says you like to write?”

“Yes. Reading and writing.”

“I’m not much of a writer. I used to love reading. I still do, actually. But it’s difficult to make time for it.”

Wonwoo agreed. He would have never pegged Seungcheol as someone who enjoyed reading, mostly due to his reputation and his plethora of outlandish, jock friends, though he was pleasantly surprised to hear it.

“I haven’t been reading much myself. Or writing. I’m in a burnout, I suppose.” A sigh fell defeatedly from Wonwoo’s mouth. “It’s frustrating. What kind of books did you read?”

“Nothing unique. Lord of the Rings. I went through a period of really liking Goosebumps, too.” He  then bit his inner cheek in contemplation as he thought harder about his catalogue. “The weirdest book I remember reading was Walking Practice by Dolki Min. It gave me nightmares.”

“I’ve heard lots of mixed opinions about it.”

“It’s a book you read once, somehow manage to enjoy, but know you’ll never revisit… hm, it’s got me thinking…” Seungcheol was suddenly leaning forward, an arm dangling off the table as his forehead wrinkled with effort at placing a certain memory. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you used to date that girl who worked at the university library? I think her name was… shit—” he snapped his fingers a few times, bit down hard on his rosy lip while his dark brow furrowed, “—Jeanie? I believe that’s it. She always wore a little pin on her pullovers. Didn’t really talk much. At least not to me. She was shy but seemed sweet.”

For a second, Wonwoo thought he misheard Seungcheol—that the music from the speaker system was blaring much too loud and he somehow misinterpreted a word or sentence. He even dug into his ear for a second, sat up in his chair instead of casually leaning backward.

“What?”

Wonwoo hadn’t even realized he’d dropped his Korean.

“Oh, I was asking about that girl you used to date. It was Jeanie, right? She worked at the university library.” When Wonwoo kept staring at him without so much as a sound, blink, or even a tiny twitch, Seungcheol waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Fuck, my bad. I’m probably confusing you with someone else.”

“No... you’re not.”

It had felt like a gunshot—realizing the specific pronunciation and shaping of Seungcheol’s lips hadn’t been misinterpreted at all. He was in fact saying what Wonwoo dreaded, feared, like the ghost stories from his childhood that his brother would utter through a white, dying flashlight until Wonwoo uncontrollably wept. Like the last step at his parents’ house he used to constantly miss, his heart practically jamming into his throat each and every time. It was that slow, nauseating accumulation of anxiety in his stomach, coming to buzz and rumble akin to a beehive. It was all those stupid mistakes.

Jeanie. To hear her name in another person’s mouth was almost sickening. To think about her again was pure heartache.

“That’s what I figured,” Seungcheol said. “She was nice, but I don’t think she came back in the fall… I don’t want to assume anything. Just a memory.” He reeled back on the topic as Wonwoo sat adjacent to him, paler than an alabaster pearl.

“Yeah…” he managed to croak out, feeling a rasp develop somewhere deep in his throat, “we’re not together anymore.”

“Hey, it is what it is,” Seungcheol affirmed, putting on a sincere smile that Wonwoo found a pinch of solace in. “We don’t have to fuckin’ mull over it or anything. All that shit’s in the past, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Right. You’re here now, amongst friends, I hope.”

Wonwoo swallowed, thinking about what Seungcheol said.

He then shifted his head toward the billiard ball table. Vernon was now involved in a very passionate conversation with Mingyu that Wonwoo was unable to hear from his distance. The two boys were bouncing back and forth, animated in their hand motions and expressions, meanwhile you and Princess were passing the most subtly judgmental looks between each other. For a moment, Wonwoo’s gaze caught your own, to which you shot him an innocuous eye roll paired with a small but tenderly growing smile. That thick uneasiness in his chest pulled back like a receding ocean tide and Wonwoo knew he was okay again.

Seungcheol took note of the glance, and he grinned.

“It seems you’re pretty close with Her.”

Turning his attention back to Seungcheol, Wonwoo nodded.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. She’s… um…”

“Hard to describe, isn’t she?” Seungcheol answered for him, now observing the scene at the billiard ball table as well.

Wonwoo almost hesitated asking his next question, but before his brain could make much sense of it, he was already speaking.

“Does Mingyu always do that?”

Seungcheol chuckled, “do what?”

“He’s on her like a fucking sticker.”

Undoubtedly, his heart sank in at the predictable answer.

“Yeah, Gyu’s always got his eye on her. I understand where he’s coming from. She attracts a lot of attention. He straight up socked this dude in the face last year for hitting on her. I mean, to be fair, he was drunk and Her can tend to be a little… well, she likes to push his buttons. It was high tension all night. Bound to explode.”

Remembering his meal at Solar Pop with Vernon a few weeks ago, Wonwoo knew how anxious his friend had been at the thought of getting ungracefully decked in the face by Mingyu’s knuckles. While it never happened—and Wonwoo was certain then that it wouldn’t—he would hate to be on the receiving end of whatever power Mingyu did pack behind a serious punch. Wonwoo despised fighting and conflict. There was often a cutting, wolfish nature wading about Mingyu’s dark gold eyes that quite frankly petrified him enough.

Considering how fearful Vernon had seemed, Wonwoo was surprised the boy was even talking with Mingyu so freely. But that forgiving, never-take-anything-too-seriously gene was just embedded straight into Vernon’s core. He could get along with anybody.

“Hm,” was all Wonwoo hummed in response.

Since he had been laser-focused analyzing the cordial, humorous conversation between Vernon and Mingyu, he failed to note that Princess had joined her boyfriend at the table. Upon turning his head out of worry he might be caught staring, Wonwoo finally saw the beautiful girl leaning against Seungcheol’s back from behind; her arms draped comfortably around his neck and her cheek pressed to his midnight black hair. Wonwoo flashed an awkward half-smile.

“You guys getting to know each other?” She asked.

Seungcheol exchanged an agreeing glance with Wonwoo.

“Mmhm. We’re basically two peas in a pod now,” the boy proceeded to joke while Princess grinned down at him, her eyes gleaming. “Yeah, he’s pretty cool. One smart cookie, y’know?”

“Wow. Smarter than you, yeah?” She laughed, now straightening up and resting just a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, can’t be a winner in everything.”

“Oh. Maybe you can’t.”

“Shit—watch yourself, missy.”

Seungcheol quickly twisted around in his chair, managing to catch Princess by the waist and playfully wrestle her onto his lap. She hardly fought in retaliation against him, a huge, warm smile glowing from her face as she let herself get wrapped in his squeezing arms.

Wonwoo wasn’t sure if he wanted to throw up. It’s not that he was some spiteful, self-loathing recluse who couldn’t stand seeing others in healthy relationships—it wasn’t that at all. What he despised was the loneliness it reflected unto himself, and the deeply unsettling thought that he was just too damaged, insecure, and unlovable to ever truly warrant the pure trust of another. He feared he could never bring his inner self to fruitfully open in such vulnerable ways.

“Hey, Wonwoo. I just noticed your cup’s empty.”

When he connected with the earnest gaze of Princess, he realized she was pointing at the red cup left untouched by his elbow.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Do you want a beer? Or a chaser?” She offered in a polite tone as Seungcheol gently moved her long braids aside to drape over her far shoulder. “We have lots of stuff in the fridge over there.”

He bit into his lip, thinking.

“Doesn’t have to be a drink,” Seungcheol said, shrugging. “If you smoke, I’ve got some stuff already crushed up. Uh, I’ve got a bong around here somewhere. I think it’s on the shelf. Rolling papers, too. Don’t know how you prefer to smoke it.”

“Papers, usually,” Wonwoo answered.

“Cool. I’ve got that.”

With two soft, careful hands gliding up her waist, Seungcheol sweetly urged Princess to her feet and then pitched an announcement that anyone interested in smoking could come to the table.

Princess swiped the blue bong from Seungcheol’s shelf.

“I’m going for a bowl,” she said, clicking her tongue.

“Ou, me too!” Clara chirped, using Bells’ arm to help shove herself off the sofa, ignoring the way her friend whined.

“I’ll come sit with you guys,” Princess added, “just make a little room. And try not to throw up on me if you can help it.”

Wonwoo was in the midst of being accompanied at the table, with Vernon dragging out the chair to his left while Mingyu occupied the seat across from him. He watched the boy’s arm stretch out to accommodate you onto his lap, and Wonwoo assumed the hand he couldn’t see was groping your thigh underneath the table. In the pit of his stomach, Wonwoo knew what that slimy, bitter feeling was, though he refused to acknowledge it—he wouldn’t even look at you.

Seungcheol tossed a ziplock bag filled with weed onto the table and spread out an array of thin, dull, white rectangular papers.

Immediately, Vernon was tugging on Wonwoo’s sleeve.

“Can you roll mine, dude?”

“Hm?” Mingyu grunted, seeming amused. “You’re asking Wonwoo to roll your joint? You're a fucking drug dealer.”

“I’ve never met anyone who can roll as good as him,” his friend complimented, leaning back in the wooden chair and firmly shaking Wonwoo’s shoulder. “If he’s in the room, I’m gettin’ him to roll. He’s got nice, talented, dexterous fingers. Isn’t that right?”

Reaching for a translucent paper and smoothing out the crinkles, a suspect arch made its way to Wonwoo’s brow, meanwhile the tips of his ears burned with all the eyeballs examining his every fucking move. Wonwoo opened the baggie, beginning to shake out the pre-grinded bud as he held the paper in a curled shape.

“Please don’t talk about my fingers like that,” he muttered, pushing up his glasses. “Check that. You want a little more or less?”

“Nah, leave it at that,” Vernon answered.

Brushing a hand through his hair, Seungcheol then crossed his arms, smirking. “I wanna see it when you’re done rolling.”

“Me too,” Mingyu agreed, staring Wonwoo down like a hawk.

“Great. Why don’t we pass the joint around the table when he’s done with it, and we can all grade it. How fun,” you mumbled sarcastically, slumping forward and resting your chin against a palm.

“You gonna smoke or not, sweetheart?” Mingyu asked.

“I don’t know yet…”

Wonwoo knew you were staring at him while he fiddled with removing a crease in the partially rolled paper, because there was an itch crawling along him, like a sunburn, but not quite. Though, he opted to continue focusing on the joint, even with your eyes breathing him in from across the table, craving his acknowledgement.

“Lick there,” he instructed, holding the paper for Vernon.

From the couch, Wonwoo heard a bubbly laugh. It was Bells, her legs kicked up onto Princess’ lap without a care in the world while Princess sparked a lighter to help Clara ignite the sapphire bowl.

“Wonwoo, if you make one for me, can you lick it?”

He simply ignored her while carefully tucking at the joint.

Wonwoo turned to Vernon again. “Lick.”

After some finely tuned adjustments that required his utmost focus, Wonwoo was at last satisfied with the roll, then handing the joint off to Vernon for him to further pack and twist up. Once his friend finished the job, he passed the joint back to Wonwoo, who further gave it down to Seungcheol. The boy glanced over it closely.

“Damn… that’s pretty fuckin’ good, can’t lie.”

“Let me see," Mingyu practically demanded, granting Seungcheol the slimmest opportunity to even pass the joint along.

He’d snatched it up and settled back in his seat—nearly sliding you straight off his lap in the process—squinting to find some stupid imperfection or mistake he could point out, though, there was nothing. Without a word, he passed the smoke to Vernon.

“See? Told ‘ya. Glasses never fails me.”

“If you don’t mind—” Seungcheol rubbed at his bottom lip, staring at Wonwoo with a quirked eyebrow, “—could I get one?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Mingyu won’t say it but you should roll one for him, too.”

As Wonwoo pulled another paper toward him, he managed to look at you, and the little spark that jumped into your pretty eye. He smiled because you were smiling, and that always made him feel so inexplicably warm inside, like the soft melting of browned caramel.

“I can do that,” he said, to which Mingyu nodded his head.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll roll one for you, too, Her. I mean, if you want it.”

“Okay. That’s sweet. Maybe later.”

You smiled at him again.

He smiled back.

Wonwoo wasn’t sure how it happened or who initially decided the idea, but someone had suggested poker, and now the entire table was cleared off with the exception of Seungcheol’s playing cards and the multi-coloured chip stacks. They decided on classic Texas Hold’em because everyone who’d decided to join was most familiar with the style, though Wonwoo cared to dabble more in Blackjack as there was a mathematical basis to it that scratched a satisfying itch in his brain. Nonetheless, he was fairly good at Texas Hold’em, too.

Vernon hated playing with him, and he made that extremely apparent through his moaning while Princess shuffled the card deck. There was a decent number of people playing—only you, Clara, and Bells chose to sit on the sidelines and observe. Wonwoo had wanted you to play, but you kept declining, even without a concrete reason.

“Okay, everyone’s familiar with the rules, right?” Princess asked for clarification, at first burning the top card off the deck. “I’ll play dealer first round. That makes Seungcheol the small blind and Wonwoo the big blind. N'remember, you guys signed up for this, so if you can't afford to blow some money then you better be good.”

Everyone collectively agreed, and Princess began dealing the cards to all contenders until there was two before each person. Wonwoo wasn't exactly in the best position to be owing people cash, but he was a pretty solid player in his experience, though he was most comfortable going against Vernon and Seokmin. They had done a few poker nights at the random houses Vernon always claimed he was looking after for a friend. He had no idea what Seungcheol or Mingyu would be like as players. It did scare him a little.

Seungcheol made his move first—just a dollar, the equivalent of a single white-coloured chip. Wonwoo had to double the bet, so he moved out two white chips instead. Vernon decided to raise the amount to four chips, and Seokmin called the bet, matching it. Mingyu went next, his figure appearing foggy from across the table as the air became increasingly tinged with ruffles of smoke.

He called.

Seungcheol and Wonwoo both called at their turns, and thus, the first round of betting had ended. Everyone pushed forward their chips for Princess to collect, creating their small, measly looking pot.

Wonwoo kept the joint poised between his pointer and middle finger as he slyly gleaned the suit and ranks of his hand, keeping both cards flush against the table, just lifting their corners.

It didn’t seem like much and would probably result in little reward—an eight of clovers and a three of spades—but Wonwoo wasn’t looking to show out in the very first game, anyway.

He glanced toward the couch, where you were squished almost shoulder to shoulder against Clara and Bells. The bong was sat in your lap as you leaned down over the mouthpiece and sparked at the cannabis packed into the bowl. Bells curled at her long, black hair, heels dug into the edge of the coffee table, eyes glazed as pastries.

“I didn’t get anything from that,” she mumbled.

“That’s ‘cause you don’t know how to play,” Princess chuckled, again burning another card off the deck before setting down three more at the centre of the table, creating the flop.

Nine of diamonds, seven of hearts, and six of clovers.

Everyone took a minute to examine the flop, comparing it with the cards they had stowed close to their chests. Wonwoo, however, didn’t even bother comparing, as he already knew his move.

“Hm…” Seungcheol paused, rubbing at his chin and sucking in his bottom lip. “I think I’ll check.” He then leaned back, placing forth no bet at all, and instead looked to Wonwoo for his decision.

“Fold.”

“Ha!” Vernon practically choked beside him, the joint almost spat from his mouth, and Wonwoo felt the boy’s hand push in a teasing pressure at his shoulder. “You’re such a piece of shit, man.”

“Why is he a piece of shit?” Bells wondered.

“Just, uh—ah, never mind,” Vernon capitulated, still somewhat chuckling under his breath as Wonwoo smiled at him. “I’m gonna bet. I’ll put out some of these.” He slid out the required chips, forest-green in colour, each valued at twenty-five dollars.

Nibbling on his fingertip, Seokmin shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I’m folding.”

Princess smiled. “No, it’s okay! Mingyu next.”

“Hm, call,” he responded, matching Vernon's dare.

The attention returned to Seungcheol, who was rooted in his indecisiveness, pressed fingers masking half his face as he stared down at the three community cards, brow furrowed with thought.

Eventually, he shrugged. “Fuck it. I’m folding too.”

“Not feeling lucky, babe?” Princess grinned, collecting the bets placed by Vernon and Mingyu to the growing pot.

“I’m treading cautiously, let’s just say that.” He smirked.

After revealing the fourth community card, another round ensued between Vernon and Mingyu. Wonwoo relaxed back into his seat, an analyzing eye shifting from his tattooed, face-pierced friend to the stoic and collected Mingyu who was awaiting Vernon’s turn.

Wonwoo held his bottom lip between sharp teeth, then staring down at his lap in an attempt to smother that prying, wide smile, knowing the exact move his friend would make. It was Vernon, after all. And he always played big, even when he shouldn’t.

“Bet. Here you go.”

More of those green chips were moved out.

Mingyu huffed, tongue curling against his pronounced canine. “I don’t believe you, dude.”

Vernon cackled, propping up his knee and setting the heel of his sneaker onto the chair. He exhaled a smooth hit from his joint.

“Okay. Raise, then.”

Seungcheol chuckled, sharing a laugh with Seokmin who was sipping at a beer bottle from across the table.

“Fine—have it your way.”

"I’ll call.”

“Not feeling so confident, yeah?” Mingyu proceeded to laugh, eyeing Vernon closely with a testing, intrigued expression.

“I’ll let the showdown speak for itself,” Vernon pitted back.

Again, Princess collected their chips and rid the deck of its top card, and then placed down the fifth and final community card, establishing the river and the arrangement from which Vernon and Mingyu would need to create the most powerful hand. Each boy at last turned over their deck, and it was clear cut who was the winner.

“Mingyu’s got a full house,” Princess explained, standing up and leaning forward to swivel the card combination into place. “Take these three from the river, plus his nine of hearts and seven of clovers—that’s a three of a kind and a pair. Vernon can at most make a straight.” She then sat back down, pushing the entire pot to Mingyu.

“Did you win, baby?” After remaining silent for the entire game, you had finally perked up from the couch, admittedly buzzed.

Brushing back his hair, he smirked. “I won. Mr. Drug Dealer owes me about three-hundred dollars. But I guess you've just got that laying around somewhere? Stuffed up your pillow case?”

Vernon laughed, then took a deep, long drag from his joint. "If you're not sleepin' against a pillow case full of cash, I'm happy to officially give you the opportunity. Takes away all your stress."

“Congratulations,” you flashed a hazy smile at your boyfriend, courtesy of the smoke wafting through the air, like you were caught in a reverie, “I'm glad all those Sundays were well spent.”

“Okay, we’ll move down now,” Princess announced, reorganizing the cards into a deck. “Seungcheol’s the dealer, Wonwoo is the small blind, and Vernon’s the big blind this time.”

They continued to play until everyone at the table had a chance at being the blinds and the dealer. Wonwoo folded every round. He knew it might've been ignorant and distrustful, but to him, it was the perfect opportunity to see inside everyone's bag of tricks.

He’d developed a fairly foolproof inkling toward their tactics and gives. Seokmin was by far the easiest player to make fold, though Wonwoo was already well aware—he would only hold his ground if there was confidence in his hand, but even then, anyone else calling Seokmin’s bet always engendered him to squirm. And while Vernon was still a more seasoned player by comparison, his brashness and tentative nature toward folding was often his downfall.

Seungcheol and Princess were a bit harder to read.

They were alike in their more cautious, calculating style of play, and Princess clearly had experience with orchestrating poker matches. Seungcheol, however, would routinely make the same mistake that Wonwoo had noticed straight away—touching or covering his face. When he was most confident, his fingers would sit more around his chin, or jaw, and when he was dealt a shitty hand with little to no promise of creating something notable from the community cards, those fingers etched further toward his lips.

You had still refused to join the match when offered by Princess, though you were paying greater attention to the game—even stopping by to hover with interest at Mingyu’s shoulder.

Princess was back to being the dealer.

Seungcheol was again the small blind. “I’ll put up twenty.”

Wonwoo grabbed two stacks of his chips and slid them outward to double the boy’s forced bet. “Forty.”

Everyone called.

Since the pot had gone unraised, Wonwoo decided to push forth more of his chips, adding on another twenty in small stacks. “Raise.”

The eagerness to increase the bet had drained. Again, all parties at the table simply called, and Wonwoo was feeling quite confident.

“Flop time,” Princess said with a smile, neatly setting out three cards at the table’s centre for everyone to glean.

Seungcheol checked. So did Wonwoo.

“Raise.” Vernon was persistent in his choice.

Everyone matched the increased bet, now sitting at eighty chips, until it fell upon Wonwoo’s turn. Expectant eyes were drilling holes into him like he was plywood at a construction site. Under normal circumstances, Wonwoo would abhor it more than anything else, but he was otherwise relaxed and in tune with his decisions as the joint smoke warmly fluttered around him. Coughing out a tickle from his throat, he grabbed another stack of his chips.

“It’s at eighty, so I’ll push to a hundred.”

“Cunt,” Vernon coughed, though he matched the raise without so much as a leg shake or a bite at his glinting lip ring.

“Fold,” Seokmin sighed, forfeiting his hand to Princess.

Wonwoo looked across the table, watching your fingertips squeeze into Mingyu’s thick shoulders as he pondered his choice.

“Call.” He eventually decided with a shrug.

Seungcheol agreed.

By the fifth community card, Wonwoo, Mingyu, Seungcheol, and Vernon were still engaged in the match. From his analysis, Wonwoo was sure he would take the pot. Seungcheol was rubbing just below his lip using a slow thumb—there was uncertainty and doubt in the gesture. Vernon’s willingness to raise was merely intended to pressure out the others, but it hadn’t worked, and his quietness suggested there might be regret, and still, confidence, that he could somehow get away with it. Finally, Wonwoo saw Mingyu.

He'd played a handful of poker—specifically Texas Hold’em—with Mingyu when they had taken that probability elective last year.

The thing was, Mingyu had this gold-plated guise of believing his casual, unbothered demeanour couldn’t be disrupted under any circumstance—that no one would catch that transient slip of credence in those molten brown eyes or note the way he cracked the wood in the chair from fidgeting when the silence was too heavy and all-encompassing. But Wonwoo would notice. He could see it clearer than glass. The more Mingyu disguised it, the easier it poured out.

“Alright, showdown. Let’s see your hands.”

Everyone flipped their cards.

A moment of silence ensued, and then—

“Fuck you, Wonwoo,” Vernon grunted, jabbing his side.

Both him and Seungcheol could make a straight flush, but since the rank of Wonwoo’s cards were higher, he took the win.

Not to mention the rather large, admirable pot. He was pretty pleased to see those colourful bills being forked out from the losers' wallets. It truly did pay off to play with rich people, and Mingyu and Seungcheol's pockets seemed endless.

By Wonwoo's third joint of the night, he’d won more rounds than anyone sitting at the table. Vernon had cursed at him a fair amount, Seokmin hardly wanted to play anymore amongst the serious tycoons that surrounded him, and wallets were running drier than any desert. The effects of all that smoke wafting through the air and meddling with his senses was starting to take effect.

He could potentially last another round before his most concrete thinking would get whittled down to thoughtless guesses.

Before the final round had started, Wonwoo glanced down at his phone to check the time. Holy shit—one in the morning. He’d been at the party for almost three fucking hours and he was miraculously still functioning and somehow not crawling with the desperation to leave. You were seated back at the couch, head leaning on Clara’s shoulder as you waited, misty-eyed, for the final game to start. Wonwoo decided to text you even though you were sitting no less than five feet away.

[ Wonwoo | 1:02 am ]: Play the final round.

He watched as you picked up the phone from your lap to read the text message, and then, you were squinting at him in judgement.

[ Her | 1:02 am ]: um no

His thumbs fired back a response.

[ Wonwoo | 1:02 am ]: Why?

[ Her | 1:02 am ]: bc I don’t want to

[ Wonwoo | 1:03 am ]: You don’t know how to play?

[ Her | 1:03 am ]: ik how to play

[ Wonwoo | 1:03 am ]: So play.

[ Wonwoo | 1:03 am ]: Take Seokmin’s place.

[ Wonwoo | 1:03 am ]: Please? Should I beg for it?

Your scoff could be heard from the couch, and Wonwoo had to remind himself to steam out the smile twitching on his lips.

[ Her | 1:04 am ]: is it really that important to u?

[ Wonwoo | 1:04 am ]: Yes.

[ Her | 1:04 am ]: fine

[ Her | 1:04 am ]: just don’t come crying to me when u lose

Feeling especially triumphant that he was able to convince you, Wonwoo observed with a pleased smirk your quest to Seokmin’s place at the table, where you tapped his shoulder and told him to take five. The boy didn’t need to be told twice, allowing you his seat almost gratefully.

“Awe, you’re not gonna stay for the finale?” Princess asked in a crooning voice while shuffling the card deck between her hands.

Seokmin grabbed his skinny bottle of beer off the table and shook his head, his face glowing and his eyes beginning to hood.

“I’ve learned my lesson about this game: I’m not good at it, I don’t have the money, and that I should never play with Wonwoo.”

“Or me?” Vernon gestured, turning out a palm expectantly.

“Uh, right. And Vernon.”

Picking a fluff from Seokmin’s shirt and flicking it into the air, you merely shrugged, flashing him a comforting smile.

“Y’know, it’s a good thing you suck,” you said, then leaning back in the chair and folding your arms. “It means you’re a bad liar.”

“Nice to play with you, alright?” Seungcheol added, grabbing onto the boy’s hand and giving it a firm clasp as he walked by.

“Thanks. I think I’ll go back downstairs and see if I can find more people I know. Enjoy the game, guys! Tell me who wins!”

“Probably me,” you answered, waving him goodbye.

“Hm, I didn’t think you’d play at all,” Mingyu remarked while Princess began sorting out cards to everyone, and Wonwoo noted the boy's leg jostling underneath the table. “Feeling confident, are you?”

Poking out your tongue playfully at Mingyu, you smiled. “Yes. Don’t even think about trying to riddle me. I’ll see right through it.”

The game started out as usual. Seungcheol and Wonwoo offered the blind bets, and everyone at the table called. No one seemed keen to fold, even when Princess revealed the flop and his heart smacked in another resounding thump. An eight of spades, a king of spades, and an eight of clovers. Wonwoo then slipped his gaze around the table, particularly studying you, who hadn’t stopped grinning since the game started. Of course you would be grinning. There was nothing very coy or subtle about you upon any first glance.

Wonwoo discreetly lifted the corners to his playing cards. He caught the wind in his chest. There was an ace of spades, his very first all night, paired with a nine of spades. It took all his self-control to remain muted on the outside and let his joint continue burning.

At the fourth community card, the pressure was starting to seep through, and the intimidating, stacked size of the pot collected before Princess was only making the fold especially tempting.

Every time it seemed like a call was in order, someone would raise, and the bets kept climbing until the glass ceiling was at last hit.

Seungcheol brushed antsy hands down the back of his head, scattering his hair and puffing out his chest in a large, accepting sigh.

“I’ve gotta fold. There’s no way.”

Balancing a joint at the corner of his mouth, Wonwoo grabbed another stack from his chips and slid it outward, knowing there was little to no chance he would lose the round.

“Raise,” he announced, exhaling a deep breath.

“Oh my God,” Vernon mumbled into his palm, taking a moment to tap his fingers against the wood, “… I have to fold. Yeah, I’ve gotta. A smart man like myself knows when to quit. You got me. Fucker.”

Unphased by the hopeless, daunting feeling that swelled around the table, you merely crossed a leg and dared to not only match, but raise the amount of chips that Wonwoo had audaciously put forth. Mingyu was slumped in his chair with a musing expression, eyes stung red and the thick fronds of his hair messily strewn about from how often his fingers dug through them. He eventually cleared his throat from the hot prickle and shook his head in conviction.

“No, you’re lying. I don’t believe it.”

But you just smirked and fluttered your lashes.

“What’s your move then, babe?”

“I’ll check.” Mingyu shrugged, agitated by his own response.

And to that, Wonwoo poured more gasoline on the fire.

“Raise.”

“There is no fuckin’ way your cards are that good,” Vernon grumbled between half-sealed lips, attempting to hold the joint still with his mouth while he sparked the end using his lighter.

“I’m raising your raise,” you challenged, “one-hundred.”

As his hand fell onto the table with a loud rattle, Vernon started to cackle. “There’s no way your cards are that good, either.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You lilted.

“Mingyu?” Seungcheol hummed to get the boy’s attention. “It’s your move, man. What’re you gonna do?”

Wonwoo could see it scribbled all over Mingyu’s face. He didn’t want to get caught in the intense bidding flare between you, because he obviously knew his cards weren’t high enough rank to claim the pot at showdown. Wonwoo wasn’t planning to fold because the community cards were aligned in his favour. That steely, brash façade of the golden boy across from him was wearing increasingly thinner and Mingyu had seemed to realize it himself. After an almost agonizing silence, he pushed his cards away from him, forfeiting.

“Yeah, I can’t do it. Fuck you guys.”

“Oh, that’s too bad, sweetheart. That’s too bad, ” you giggled, leaning over to sling an arm around his shoulders and stipple his cheek in small kisses that Mingyu wriggled from.

“Alright, just fuckin’ get to the showdown already,” he tutted.

Wonwoo couldn’t have been happier that Mingyu removed himself from the game. It was solely between him and you, now.

“You raised to one-hundred?” He asked for clarification.

Nodding your head, you agreed. “Yes. One-hundred.”

The thing was, Wonwoo knew he was going to win. Even without Princess revealing the final community card, there was an opportunity for him to make a straight flush. Unless an unprecedented stroke of luck had fallen into your own hand and you could somehow make a royal flush, the game was already decided.

Unless Wonwoo folded.

“I’ll raise,” he answered, wanting to test your limits.

“Jesus, this is gonna take all fuckin’ night, isn’t it?” Vernon proceeded to groan while exercising his stiff shoulder.

You smiled, and a glint illuminated in your eyes like a fallen star the size of a perfect sand grain.

 “Should I make it more interesting?”

Uncrossing your leg, you sat up straight, pressing tight against the table as you braced an arm behind your remaining chips and shoved them forward slowly, right into the table’s centre. Everyone began to mumble excitedly at the brazen act, though Wonwoo could only focus on you and that mischievous but beautiful curve to your lips, ignoring everything else in the room.

“All in.”

He felt a fist lightly strike his chest.

“Glasses! You’ve gotta match that!”

Seungcheol was rubbing along his chin, grinning.

“That’s gonna make a huge pot… lotta money…”

“He’s been making moves all game,” Princess laughed. “Not that I’m pressuring you, Wonwoo. I mean, it’s your call.”

Mingyu shook his head. “She’s so bluffing.”

“Hush up so he can think!” Vernon cackled.

There was so much sound and noise and voices. But, through the cacophony and haze of all those distractions, Wonwoo could see into you so clearly it was like you had become magically transparent. In turn, you were staring at him, awaiting his response, and he felt those sharp eyes shearing at his fabricated thoughts, picking them all apart into little corners and strips and threads. It was impossibly subtle, and only Wonwoo caught it—your head just beginning to shake in disagreement.

However, Wonwoo had already made his decision.

“I’m folding.”

Vernon’s fists struck down on the table like a thunderous clap, and the tension nailed into the atmosphere suddenly burst.

Before Wonwoo could even make sense of the exploding conversation, his cards were pulled away from him by Princess. She flipped over both yours and his hand.

“Wonwoo, you stupid fuck!” Vernon practically leapt from his chair, wriggling at the boy’s shoulder. “That’s a straight fl—oh my god! I’m actually so—you could have easily won that!”

“Okay, okay. She’s got a straight flush, too!” Princess called, pointing down at your cards. “But Wonwoo’s rank is higher.”

“Doesn’t matter, anyway,” Mingyu said, pushing back in his chair and stretching out his muscular arms. “He folded. Her wins.”

Seungcheol sifted through the colourful chips.

“Looks like he owes you about five-hundred bucks.”

Continuing to smile at you, Wonwoo picked the joint back between his lips, borrowing Vernon’s lighter to fizzle the end and keep the paper burning. Your arms were crossed, hardly pleased.

“Looks like I do.” Wonwoo accepted through a wispy exhale of smoke, rolling out his shoulders and further quirking his lips.

After the final poker match, everyone decided to disseminate and take about half an hour to excuse themselves. Mingyu went back downstairs with Seungcheol so they could keep an eye on the general rowdiness, making sure people hadn’t started rioting or smashing vases, swinging from chandeliers and drinking questionable concoctions out of high-heeled boots.

Vernon wandered off in search for a washroom since Princess had occupied the nearest one down the staircase, at first helping nurse Clara through her incoming bout of alcohol sickness, with Bells joining them a few minutes afterward when that last sip decided to lurch back up her throat.

Only you and Wonwoo remained in the attic.

He was sat widespread at the sofa, slumped down, eyes closed, attempting to appreciate the high that could be attributed to the third joint he was now halfway through smoking. But then he felt the cushion beside him dip, and there was a pinch sinking rather harshly into the flesh on his hand that made his eyes fling back open.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Wonwoo moaned, rubbing over the small, crescent shaped branding dug by your fingernail.

Settling down notably close to Wonwoo, your knee prodded into his thigh while your one leg folded over the other. That scowl had yet to be ironed out from your countenance, and he could only suspect you were about to come down hard in regards to his stunt.

“Boo hoo. You’re such a lying liar who lies.”

Wonwoo stretched out a hand to his face, massaging slow against his temples while he sighed, “lying’s part of the game...”

“No—” the retort shot out with an electrifying quickness, “—not your type of lying. Your double-crossed lying. You’re a fraud.”

“A fraud?” He echoed, letting the hand fall into his lap. “Okay, that’s a bit accusatory. I wouldn’t call what I did fraudulent.”

Shifting his elbow off the arm of the couch, the joint was poised back at his lips, and Wonwoo couldn’t help but chuckle at your glaring, stiff face. He swiftly blew out his hit, smirking hard.

“I hate you for what you did. I mean, you should have gone all in and matched me. But, no! You took the wuss route and made me look stupid! It taints everything. And you better wipe away that jovial curl in your lip before I sock it off your face and steal your cig.”

Wonwoo tilted his head at you, perking an eyebrow.

“How’d you know my cards were better?”

At first, the question visibly stumped you. There was a lag in your response—an open mouth but not a single word to follow.

Then, it seemed as though you breathed out all your rage.

“Don’t ask such a dumb question,” sounded your calm sigh, with a leg bobbing up and down, “you made it so obvious.”

“I did? Hm.”

“Yeah…I know your tactic. You make everyone feel and nice and comfortable playing with you. Then, you totally flip the script and pull out the rug.” Your shoulder was digging into his and you two were now squished together so closely that he could feel your radiating warmth and smell the fragrance in your hair. “For someone who’s so damn quiet, your eyes are like a book. They just swim and trash with everything you’re thinking. So, don’t think you’re all that.”

Wonwoo switched the joint to his other hand, instead leaning against his fist and peering aside at you who seemed so certain of everything. Admittedly, he’d never heard that before, and if he weren’t beyond drowned in the watery red glowing behind his hooded gaze, your spiel would have downright terrified him.

It wasn’t that you just knew Wonwoo, it was that you were beginning to understand him and the way his mind operated.

No—if he were sober, that thought would obliterate him.

He shrugged. “I don’t think I’m all that.”

“Blah, blah. Y’know, the one thing about you that bothers me—you’re actually not a loser. People like you Wonwoo. People are impressed by you. They want to know you. And you just keep them at bay with your stinging hot fireplace poker, jabbing at them in case they get too close. I see it. And—I don’t know, maybe you’re right to keep all those people out. Maybe it gives you more control.”

Wonwoo dragged a hand along his face, laughing. “I think I’m a little too high to be having that conversation with you.”

“No, you’re not. You just don’t want to talk about it as usual. I don't suppose you've got five-hundred big ones in your wallet, do you?”

He shot you an obvious glance while chuckling, "absolutely fucking not. But sit tight, though. I can get it to you somehow."

Your head shook. "I don't care about the money."

He stared down at the joint aglow in his hand.

And then he was holding it out in front of you.

“Hit?”

You hesitated, but ultimately grabbed it, positioning the joint between your index and middle finger akin to a cigarette. Wonwoo watched intently at the soft inhale you breathed in, and the gradual relaxing of your chest as the smoke was gently puffed outward.

“Not so tough, is it?” He hummed in his deep, velvet-smooth voice, to which you squinted at him and scrunched your nose.

“I just studied how you did it, that’s all.”

Your knee was now pressed atop his lap. Wonwoo felt that momentary, passionate itch to settle his palm flat against your warm skin—ignore all boundaries that existed between you as well as their scalding consequences just for the sake of sweetly touching you, the one visible hope in his life. Still, Wonwoo was too afraid. As much as he wanted all your light and love to himself, it could never be true.

“We’re doing lines next,” you said, “… are you gonna do it?”

“Oh, no.” Wonwoo shook his head. “I tried it once and it went fucking terribly. I’m not gonna bother messing with it again.”

You looked relieved.

“That’s good. It’s so weird for me. Like, when it first enters my system, everything feels strange and I get this spinning, nauseating sensation. But it always passes. And then I let everything go.”

Wonwoo quirked at you a barely-there smile.

“I know it’s obvious—just be careful, alright?”

You puffed out another hit.

“I will.”

It was a bit strange—to just stand there, off to the side, as an observer of someone who was lining up a perfect streak of white powder using their credit card. And yet, that’s what Wonwoo had found himself doing, staring without much shame as you, Mingyu, Vernon, and Seungcheol began pressing shut one nostril and inhaling the cocaine through the other. Wonwoo never bothered to ask Vernon how he acquired the coke, or what he paid for it, or how he even knew someone that could baggie it up for him so nicely—Wonwoo didn’t ask anything of the sort because he’d rather avoid prison.

Though, that might be inevitable in the bigger picture. His closest friend was a drug dealer. By nature, he was already associated.

Princess had walked over to him, dropping off some bottled water from the fridge that he immediately uncapped and gulped down. It seemed his efforts to mend that broken circadian rhythm of his had done some actual good, because Wonwoo was feeling the tire spread over his eyes and the energy deplete from his body like an inflatable with an air leak. You had snorted the coke almost a little too naturally. He remembered an old conversation with Vernon—she takes that shit like it’s pixie dust—and he supposed it made sense.

He helped Princess shove the window open again to let some freshness back into the warm attic space. She spent a moment or so staring down at the driveway, watching the people come and go.

“How are Bells and Clara?” Wonwoo asked.

She glanced at him, though her brown eyes eventually wandered back to the ongoing buzz outside and below.

“Clara is totalled,” Princess sighed. “She’s lying down in one of the spare bedrooms. A friend is looking after her. Bells on the other hand...” she glimpsed over her shoulder, scanning the room, “I’m not sure where she went. I thought she came back upstairs, but it’s likely she wandered down to the living room. That girl is all gas, no breaks. Throws up one second, back to sloshing the next.”

Wonwoo swallowed more of his cold water.

“I take it Seungcheol owes you a dinner?”

“Ha—yeah, he owes it to me big time,” she muttered, at last turning her back to the breeze. “Good thing I didn’t let him drink that fucking whiskey. Holy shit. It would be worse than Clara.”

“Hm…” Wonwoo hummed, suddenly wondering aloud as he watched you cough into your fist at the table while Mingyu rubbed his nose and patted your cheek. “He doesn’t do it all the time, though?”

Princess folded her arms and smiled.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“She?”

“Her.”

“Oh. I was asking—”

“I know what you were asking. You don’t have to hide it.”

Wonwoo thought about further countering Princess’ assumption, but the way she was watching him—head knowingly tilted with that smitten crook so rightfully framed on her glossed, shiny lips—he knew it would be futile to even try. He felt relief at the confirmation, too. As long as you were careful. Really fucking careful.

“Sorry,” he answered, shrugging.

“Nah, apology not needed.” Princess shook her head.

The girl proceeded to look down at her feet, remaining silent and pensive—toying with the idea of saying something important but ultimately weighing its consequence before involving Wonwoo.

He was sipping from his water again when Princess at last cleared her throat, then holding the swig between his cheeks.

“Um, I don’t know, exactly, what it is you and Her talk about, or what you write about, or what you two do, ever. Just, uh, whatever it is—and maybe it’s best I don’t know—she’s really… happy. Not that she wasn’t happy before. But… it’s different, y’know? The energy is different. And I see this really, really beautiful light in her that I’ve never seen before. So, yeah. I’m glad you two are friends. And that you listen to her and stick by her and help her with this new craft even when she’s not the most cooperative, or… well… y’know… it’s Her after all. You don’t really know which version you’ll get.”

Wonwoo still hadn’t swallowed. The water was becoming uncomfortably lukewarm in his mouth but he held it there.

Princess dusted off her shirt, smiling again. “Anyway, I’ll go check on Seungcheol. Probably try to find Bells. Ah, later.”

Only when the girl had left him alone at the windowsill did he finally choke down that large sip, bracing through it as though he’d just downed some especially bitter cough syrup. His mind was replaying pieces of Princess’ speech in addition to that appreciative, even admirable look she had been giving him. He didn’t know what to take from it. He didn’t even know what he was feeling. All his emotions were cooking in one big heap at the pit of his gut like a disproportioned stew. Wonwoo rubbed a hand along his face in partial confusion and agony, hearing a giggle from you somewhere across the room, as he attempted to sort everything out.

Wanting to move somewhere a bit quieter, Wonwoo thought he might try his luck with the rooms down the staircase, and hopefully not waltz into anything he so clearly shouldn’t have. Yet, just as his hand ghosted along the wood railing, Wonwoo was suddenly colliding with someone and the rapidly permeating, muddled scent of daisies, cannabis, and fireball was filling his nose.

His water bottle dropped to the floor and rolled to the base of the stairs. Fingers scraped deep into his shirt. He grabbed onto the person’s waist with instinct, helping to steady them.

“Fuck—holy shit. Thanks, Wonwoo.”

But then the realization had metaphorically slapped him.

“My bad. Sorry.”

It was Bells who’d been stumbling up the stairs and plowed straight into his chest. She didn’t seem the most present, either.

“No, no, no. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

The last thing he wanted on planet Earth was to get sucked into a conversation with her—not that he had any sort of grudge or concrete reason to dislike the girl—but his head was starting to ache and he craved peace and quiet for just five fucking minutes.

Her fingers were still wound into his shirt, almost holding him there, against the banister of the stairs, and Wonwoo couldn’t help but stare straight into her intensely dilated eyes that studied him like a shark.

“Uh, all good...”

Wonwoo honestly wanted to grab the girl by her shoulders and physically set her aside. At the same time, he didn’t think it was the best protocol to act so uncouth with one of your close friends.

“Oh, sorry!” It seemed to dawn on her that she was pinning him against the handrailing. “I just didn’t want to fall.”

She at last loosened her fingers, though Wonwoo noted how she somewhat dragged her hands along his chest in the process of doing so, like that girl had done earlier to Vernon. It was unnecessary, but she was drunk, and Wonwoo thought he could end the conversation quicker if he remained pleasant. Stood at the top of the stairs, Wonwoo smiled at her, knowing how exhausted he was inside.

“I hope you’re feeling okay.”

Bells smiled, swaying her shoulders, “I’ve never felt better.”

“… Are you… sure about that?”

“Mmhm.”

“Do you need water or anything?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Uh, alright, cool. Well, I’m gonna go—”

“Wonwoo, wait.” She latched onto his arm, fast and sharp.

He paused, not so much because of her grip but mostly from shock, as she had suddenly moved in closer and he could now feel her strength squeezing against his bicep. She batted her eyelashes up at him demurely, and there was nothing he stomached but discomfort.

“What are you doing after this?” The girl hummed, lowering her voice and intentionally smoothing it to add a sultry effect.

Dry swallowing, he debated whether or not he should even respond and instead simply peel her unwanted hand off his arm.

“… Going to bed?” He croaked, shifting in his place.

“Would you want to do something with me?” She bit her lip. “My apartment’s in South Elm. Have you ever been there?”

“It’s not a good idea.” Wonwoo was losing his patience.

“Awe, not a good idea? Why’s that?” She giggled, slowly massaging her hand down the length of his bicep and nibbling on her inner cheek. “We can do anything you want at my place… I live alone… so, I’m up for it. Anything at all.”

“Okay, uh, look. I don’t want to be—”

All of a sudden, Bells was ripped from Wonwoo like a sticky bandage, and while he was more than confused at the situation, he was nonetheless relieved. He assumed it was Princess who’d done the deed, and thus Wonwoo was very surprised to learn that it had been you—you, who did not appear happy in the slightest, and his relief was starting to transform into thick concern because it seemed as though you were going to ricochet Bells head off the banister.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” You shouted, shoving a belittling hand against Bells' shoulder and tugging her away. “Why are you fucking cornering him like that?!”

“Uh—what? Cornering him? Her, I’m so confused.”

“Confused? About what, Bells? You’re fucking harassing him! Like, why are you in his face and putting your hands on him?!”

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s your fucking problem? I wasn’t in his face; I’m talking to him. Just talking. You’re jumped up again.”

“Jumped up?! You're one to talk!”

Wonwoo at first tried to intervene, mostly out of serious worry for Bells safety, because you were steaming. However, every time he attempted to speak up, his words would drown out in the echo of your squabbling. It didn’t help that you two were both mentally degraded in your own right—all that anger was shooting straight from your chest to your mouth with no thought involved.

“Just leave him alone!” You jabbed a finger at her chest.

Bells slapped your hand away. “Don’t touch me!”

“Oh, why? Does it make you uncomfortable, having someone in your fucking face, touching you without permission? Does that make you upset, Bells? Hm, wow. So funny you would say that.”

Wonwoo settled a hand at your shoulder, tugging at you once, then twice, wanting to pull you back without being too forceful.

“It’s okay,” he assured, though his heart was pounding and he wished someone else would help or even take note of what was happening, “it’s not a big deal, alright? Nothing worth all this.”

Again, he was completely ignored.

“So, that’s it?” Bells laughed, throwing up her arms. “Only you can talk to him, and look at him, and breathe around him? That’s all you? No one else is allowed to like, have a conversation with him?!”

“You don’t want to have a conversation with him!” Your fists balled up tight as you screamed at her. “You want him to fuck you!”

“Okay, okay—!” Wonwoo jolted with panic when you pushed the drunken girl, immediately coiling his arms around your waist and lurching you backward before a flailing hand could strike Bells’ face.

Bells stumbled for no less than second until she regained her balance and looked to you with the most seething, nettled eyes.

The situation seemed on the precipice of exploding beyond control, with you wriggling and thrashing against his arms, employing a strength he couldn’t have expected amidst your sluggish state. You were shouting at him to stop intervening, though, he knew letting go meant you would most likely beat the girl’s breaks off.

Thankfully, at the nick of time, Mingyu had sprinted across the room, catching Bells' arm just before it lashed out in a strike.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Mingyu grunted while wrestling the smaller, feisty girl away despite all her manic squirming.

Wonwoo almost got nipped by the unbridled swinging of your elbow as he gritted through his teeth, “I wish I knew.”

He did know. However, it wasn’t the time to discuss it.

“Fuck! Just take Her downstairs!” The boy shouted.

Jesus Christ—that was easier said than done. Trying to haul you backward down a staircase as you twisted, kicked, and screamed a very colourful litany of profanities at your friend was the exact nightmare it sounded like. Vernon’s head had suddenly popped over the banister, staring down at you and Wonwoo, his eyes blown wide with pure befuddlement, as though he wasn’t sure if it was real life or a narcotic delusion. Princess had gone to help Mingyu calm down Bells. Seungcheol had joined the commotion, too, though he didn’t come across the most intelligible. His mind was all fog.  

And yet, somehow, Wonwoo managed to ply you away from the stairs and into the corridor with hardly a breath to spare.

—END OF PART III.

[berriweb]

Hello, how are you doing? If it’s alright with you, may I request pavitr, miles e-42 and 1016 and Hobie headcanons where their s/o doesn’t contact them for a week and the boys haven’t seen their s/o during that period and no one knows where they went (so pretty much went of the grid) and then one day the reader shows up and turns out, they have become the permanent host for Venom as they are completely compatible with one another and the reader apologies to the boys for not contacting them cause they were scared and had to deal with the whole symbiote thing and Venom didn’t trust the boys

╰┈➤ ❝ i have your best interests in mind ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. pavitr prabhakar, hobie brown, earth-1610! miles, earth-42! miles

: ̗̀➛ synopsis. reader goes missing after becoming a host for venom and the boys are unaware of this

: ̗̀➛ a/n. okay so im actually madly in love with idea?? many kisses to you for this request anon, hope it’s worth the wait

— PAVITR PRABHAKAR

There would absolutely nothing more devastating to Pavitr than the worry he had when you initially disappeared

He’s a super affectionate boyfriend meaning you two would likely hang 24/7 and if you’re not together then he’s always texting you or randomly calling to check up on you

So from the start when you aren’t at home for him to walk you to school and then don’t show up at school he’s caught off guard, surely you would’ve let him know if you had other plans or were sick like you always did?

He’ll text you that morning asking if everything’s okay and where you’re at, and by noon when he doesn’t get a response he slowly starts losing it

Probably checks his phone every 2 minutes, turns it off and on to see if it’s messed up and he just hadn’t received your message, etc.

By the evening he’s contacted all of your friends and family to see if they knew where you were. When it becomes apparent that none of them know where you’ve gone either is when he starts officially freaking out

Files a missing person’s report that evening and spends the rest of the night swinging around Mumbattan looking around for any sign of your face, to no avail

It only gets worse the next few days, he starts slipping up and focusing more on finding you than any Spider-Man work he normally would’ve been doing, hoping every time that he’ll catch even a glimpse of you

It wasn’t until nearly a week later that he finally got answers, having just finished up helping a woman who’d gotten mugged when he notices someone in a familiar shirt ducking into a nearby alley

The same shirt you were wearing the last time he saw you

There weren’t enough words to describe the relief that washed over Pavitr when he rushed for the alley and saw your face just as you turned your back to the road.

“Y/N!”

That relief turns into confusion when he notices how hard you jump at the sound of your own name, as well as he notices the hood from your jacket pulled over your face as if you were trying to stay hidden. When you turn to look at him, the fear in your eyes makes him stop in his tracks, and luckily so because you throw your hands up before the spider can get any closer

“Get back!”

Pavitr doesn’t understand your vagueness at first when you apologize for going M.I.A but still seem hesitant to come back with him

Until you offer to explain but only after he promises not to freak out when you show, not tell

He agrees, but doesn’t wrap his head around it until your body is suddenly engulfed in a sea of black (tentacles? liquid? he couldn’t tell) and your face is covered by rows of sharp, menacing teeth containing a slimy, and slightly unnerving, tongue and jagged white eyes

Despite the warning he still gets initially defensive, and seeing that was enough for the monster who took over you to loudly vocalize their concerns

“I told you he could not be trusted.”

For a moment it seemed like the being and you must’ve been arguing, but he could only hear it’s side of the conversation, and from the sounds of it the monster was the reason you’d gone missing

As fast as it had appeared, the demon disappeared you were standing in it’s place again. He relaxed, and you finally explained to him why you hadn’t gone back

Pavitr still seems a bit freaked out at the thought of another being living in your body, but after the initial worry he seems to be less on guard about the whole ordeal

Pavitr rushes to pull you into a hug before you could even get out your last word, tight enough to make you pat his back to try to tap out after the first few seconds. “Pav…”

He acts like he doesn’t hear you at first, but the second time you call his name he reluctantly pulls away, but only enough for you to breathe properly, and gets sheepish.

“Sorry, I just really missed you.”

Pav assures you that you have nothing to worry about and as long as your new parasite doesn’t cause any trouble he can manage, but makes you promise to never leave him worrying like that for so long again

— HOBIE BROWN

It would take him a while longer to realize something was wrong like Pav did

There have been times where the two of you haven’t talked for days due to him being off doing Soider-Man work or you just having your own life keeping you busy so not talking for a small period of time isn’t completely abnormal

The only difference? You’d always tell each other before it happened

On day one Hobie didn’t take much note of it when he came over by your place to visit after a long night fighting as Spider-Man. You’d probably been out running errands or out with friends, nothing worth stressing himself out over

Hobie wasn’t a fan of texting and calling as he preferred seeing you in person, so his phone mostly went unused unless it was an emergency

The next day Hobie decided to drop by in the evening to hang out with you in his free time, yet when he tried knocking the lack of an answer gave him the unknown feeling of something being wrong

When he resorted to the normal route (that being climbing in through your window) Hobie was surprised to be left standing on the side of the building because the window was locked

He didn’t understand the random change of heart when you almost always left it open for him to enter if he ever dropped by as Spider-Man

Hobie picked the lock and managed to slip in regardless, but the signs showing that you hadn’t been in your apartment in a while were starting to make him suspicious. All of the belongings you’d normally take with you when you left your home were still in the home, that much he realized after finally trying to call you, only to hear your phone buzzing in the room, fishing around and finding it still plugged into the wall under your sheets

You hadn’t even taken your phone?

That’s when he started to worry

With no way to contact you, Hobie chose to spend the rest of that day and the following night lounging around your place, hoping to see you walk in and explain that you’d been in a rush and give some reasonable explanation as to why you disappeared

But you don’t

He doesn’t want to entertain the thought that something bad could’ve happened to you, and even more so, he doesn’t want to believe it could’ve been related to someone finding out your relation to Spider-Man

Hobie resorts to asking around and doing his own investigating to figure out what happened to you (which mostly involved him interrogating any criminal or villain he encountered while out as Spider-Man, but that was besides the point)

He also abandons his home entirely and spends his time at your place instead in the off chance that you’ll show up

Which ends up being exactly what happens

With his feet kicked up on the arm of the couch and his head half-hanging off of the other end, Hobie found himself mindless strumming at the strings of his guitar to fill the silence that’d overtaken the room. His eyes were glued to the clock silently ticking that you’d hung up above the door to your bedroom, showing just how far into the night it was.

It’d been days since he’d seen you, and with no way to reach you and no leads on where you could’ve gone, he was running out of options to consider aside from sitting around hoping you’d return one day. He hated that option.

In the middle of running over every possibility for your disappearance in his mind, the sound of a lock clicking pulled him out of his head and his head snapped towards the door. His heart stopped for a moment, yet his hope that you’d finally come home was demolished the moment the door opened.

Hobie jumped up before he could think, guitar long forgotten, as instead of seeing you walk in, he witnessed a large (at least 7 feet) monster seemingly completely made out of black goop and baring razor sharp teeth come barreling through the door. It’s movements were calculated but it made a mess the moment it entered the door, slamming the door so hard there was an audible sound of wood splitting from the doorframe.

“I need food! Do you expect me to starve?! I can’t survive on stolen chocolate!”

Hobie had crawled up the wall and crouched from an upper corner in the room, silently wishing he’d brought his suit with him, but in no way could he have predicted this. He watched as the monster stomped around the room, seemingly throwing a fit as it argued with itself. It ran into a shelf and knocked over all of the trinkets on it, whether or not that was intentional or not. Just as he readied himself to attack was when the being turned and it’s head shot up, only then noticing the stranger who’d been watching the entire encounter.

In the blink of an eye he’d shot webs that connected to both of the monsters arms, limiting it’s movements and lunging forwards, kicking it to the ground. Unluckily for him, he couldn’t use the element of surprise twice, but the conversation that followed as he jumped to avoid it smashing him with it’s fists was more alarming than anything else.

“What about him, can I at least eat this one?”

Hobie was seconds away from flinging the monster into the wall when the black ooze started to melt away, and his movements came to a screeching halt when he realized it was your face under the mass.

To say he was surprised would’ve been a heavy understatement

“Tell me I’m dreaming.”

He was, in fact, not dreaming

He immediately backed off upon realizing what he was about to start fighting was his s/o, but demanded an explanation before he lost his mind trying to come up with one himself

When you explained how you’d become a host for the symbiote and why you were so afraid and couldn’t come see him, his reaction was more collected than you were expected even considering his calm personality, but he did proceed to lightly scold you for not coming to him in the first place while understanding why you would’ve been scared to do so

When he finds out about how Venom didn’t trust him, Hobie offers to make a deal to keep the symbiote in line and keep you from having issues dealing with the being not liking your boyfriend

What exactly was the deal? Hobie let’s Venom eat all of the corrupt government officials he ends up defeating, that way everyone’s happy

— EARTH-1610! MILES MORALES

Poor Miles would be going through it

He’s not as clingy as Pav but he does get worried since you guys talk nearly every day, so just like him, when you didn’t show up to class he was beyond worried

He’d try to call and ask if something was up since you two had plans for later that day, but no answer. Alongside that, no one else has seen you around either

When he calls your family and they voice their concerns about you not coming back home the day prior is when his nerves get the better of him

Miles is a smart boy so one of the first things he does is immediately go to his dad to file a missing person’s report

Alongside that, he’s questioning any and everyone he comes in contact with about whether or not they’d seen you around

As he clapped his hands together to mock wiping dust from his palms, Miles searches for his phone that he always seems to pull out of his suit from no where (because seriously, where does he have room to hold it?), ignoring the angry curses from the bank robber he’d webbed to the outside of the building.

“Yeah yeah yeah, that’s nice and all…” he mutters while typing away on his phone, which only seemed to anger the criminal anymore, evident by the vein popping in his forehead and the increase in words that definitely weren’t meant for children.

As the police sirens grew louder and the citizens who’d previously been the gunman’s hostages stood around anxiously, some attempting to get the heroes attention to ask for photos, Miles held up the phone to the man’s face and zoomed in.

“You seen this person around lately?”

It takes a week for him to finally find you (one of the worst weeks of his life), albeit it wasn’t you he was looking for initially

After being stopped in the street by an old woman complaining that she’d seen a monster lurking around the abandoned building near her apartment home and heard weird noises coming from it, Miles had gone to investigate in order to come back and happily report that there was nothing for her to worry about

Unfortunately for Miles, however, he was completely wrong, as when he crawled into the run down storage center through the roof, he caught a full view of a gigantic, inky black creature crunching on what was once the full body of a man

He would’ve been more concerned over the fact that there was a man-eating monster lurking the streets of Brooklyn had he not focused on taking down the monster first, but just as he dropped down from the ceiling is when it became aware of its presence and what he assumed was the creatures skin started to peel away until you were left standing in its place

The mask prevented you from seeing his full expression, but the way the eyes widened was enough to show his mixture of shock and confusion

Miles could only stand there, baffled as he listened to you explain your situation and how you’d become their new host. When he got a chance to speak, the first thing he brought up was how he’d technically just watched his s/o eat a man alive, only for you to reassure him that it was the only person you’d ever eaten and that he was a really bad criminal you’d had eyes on for days

It was hard for him to make sense of it and while he didn’t exactly enjoy the thought of you having to eat people to survive now, Miles will admit that as long as you aren’t devouring the innocent he can manage

“So…does this make you like- a zombie or something?”

You tried (and failed) to resist the urge to roll your eyes at his comment as the two of you sat atop the roof of the old building, watching the city. “Miles.”

“I’m just saying, Venom eat brains,” he raised one hand, “zombies eat brains,” he raised his other, then pushed the two together, “you’re kind of like a zombie. You come become a hero like me! Maybe keep the ‘eating heads’ part on the down low, though. I can even come up with a cool zombie name for you! We could be a team.”

“One, I am not a zombie, and two, what’s wrong with the name Venom?”

“It’s fine I guess, not nearly as cool as a zombie name would be though-” he stopped when your hand suddenly shot up before his reflexes could kick in and smacked him in the mouth. “-hey!”

“Sorry! That was Venom.”

Miles made a face at you, but you knew it was more or less directed at the symbiote.

“Venom said that’s a terrible idea and you’re an idiot.”

That’s not what I said.

“-in more vulgar words that I’m not going to repeat.”

He raised his hands defensively. “That’s a genius idea! Would you rather be named after brains or chocolate or something instead? Chocolate and spiders don’t go together at all.”

“Neither do zombies and spiders.”

“Point taken.”

“…”

“…what about Spider-Zom-”

“Miles.”

“Alright alright, Venom it is.”

— EARTH-42! MILES MORALES

Miles would get straight trying to find you the second he realized it’s been hours since he’s seen you and no one else has a clue where you’ve gone too

He’s not the type to be too overbearing but he is really overprotective considering you’re associated with him and the type of danger he gets himself involved in, so making sure you’re always is a number one priority for him and when he has no idea what you’re up to for a long enough period of time he gets worried

Especially considering the amount of crime in the city, for all he knows anything could’ve happened to you and if he finds out that something did and he wasn’t there to protect you he’d be devastated

Immediately let’s Uncle Aaron know to keep an eye out and that most of his Prowler business would be put on hold until he finds you because you’re more important than any vigilante work

The longer you’re gone, the more anxious he becomes and while he might not show it most of the ones he’s close to will be able to tell that something’s up

“Cálmate, Miles. The more you sit around stressing yourself out the harder you’re being on yourself for no reason. I’m sure they’ll show up any day now.”

Miles tried to take his mother’s words to heart, but knowing that you could be out there anywhere in pain or worse because of him leaves him no room to relax.

“No puedo, mamí. I have to know that they’re okay.”

His worries were starting to manifest physically, the tightness in between his brows, constant bouncing of his leg and the tapping of his fingers on any surface he could reach being clear signs of it. He was sure he’d checked his phone nearly a hundred times in the last hour alone, waiting for a call from you saying you were okay or a text from Uncle Aaron letting him know he’d found you. Something, anything. It was the fourth night in a row he’d spent up all night, completely abandoning his bed when he realized he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

His mother leaned down and placed a hand over his own to stop him from the finger tapping he hadn’t realized he’d picked up again, turning over his phone to lay it flat on his desk.

“And it’s my job to make sure you’re okay. Get some rest, I’m sure if we get any updates it won’t be in the middle of the night.”

He looked her in the eye for a moment, but any attempt to disagree was futile as he knew he couldn’t argue against her.

“Okay, fine, I’ll get some sleep.”

“¿Juras?”

“Lo juro.”

With a kiss on the cheek she left him to his own devices in his room, but as soon as the door shut and he was sure he’d heard her footsteps retreated back to her room, Miles grabbed his claws and mask and headed straight for the fire escape.

All attempts at trying to find you were futile, and while he refused to lose hope Miles was beginning to assume the worst

He never wanted to entertain the thought that you could’ve died or worse, but thankfully for him that worry was squashed when in the middle of yet another restless night, Miles suddenly heard tapping coming from his window

The one clawed glove he always kept on him was the first thing Miles reached for when he heard the initial taps on his window, but as he slowly approached the window, he paused with the glove half on when meeting your gaze as your head poked over from the edge of the windowsill.

With a mixture of confusion and surprise, he rushed to unlock and open the window, watching in awe as you climbed through, rising to your feet. He looks out the window, taking note of the fact that there’s absolutely no way you could’ve climbed up given that there was nothing to climb on and his window was far from the ground.

When you look at each other a long moment filled with silence follows, and he can’t help but notice if you’re studying his looks or judging them.

“You look tired.”

Possibly both?

“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to wake you, I shouldn’t have come.”

He seems to snap out of it as soon as you start heading back for the window, reaching out to grab you by the arm.

“Wait! Stay.”

Miles would have loads and loads of questions to ask you, starting with “are you okay?” and ending with “why did you disappear on me? i was worried sick!”

Listening to you explain how you’d become a permanent host for the symbiote was almost just as hard to comprehend as when you showed it off and allowed Venom to momentarily take over you

He’d unconsciously move back without realizing it, but you retreated back to your normal self moments after just for the sake of not freaking him out

It’d take a moment to process, but when you’d show signs of guilt and mentioned leaving again and understanding if he didn’t want to be associated with you he’d stopped you again

“You really won’t mind?”

Shaking his head, Miles pulled you in for an embrace, nose pressed into the top of your head for a moment before a placed a kiss on your forehead.

“You come as a package deal now, right? I don’t really have a choice of not being cool with the whole Venom thing, no way I’m leaving you. Somos tu y yo.”

When he pulled back he noticed you make a funny face and muttered a quick no, only for a moment, and wondered what was wrong.

“It’s nothing, Venom just asked if they could eat you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I mean, I guess that means they think you’re tasty so probably good, take it as a compliment.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

[inspiringimarah]

DISCLAIMER: Check if the mods are compatible if you’ve updated to the recent patch!

Use Scarlet's Realm list to check for updates 💕

overrides

Refreshed Main Menu 

Urban Erotica (functional books)

No Tune After Loading

Nap Replacement Mod

Restaurant Default Menu

MyxDoll Fenty Beauty Override 

HighSchool Years Textbook Override

Toothbrush override by dsco

Paintbrush Override

The Ultimate Default Underwear Collection by vixonspixels

Paired Selfie (in game photo overrides)

iPhone 12 Override OR H&B Smartphone Override (ONLY CHOOSE ONE)

UNO Card Replacement

 Photo replacements (in game)

Pink Build Buy UI 

Black Sitcom TV Overrides 

San Sequoia Bridge Override

Realistic TV Mod (Reality TV)

Realistic Phone Icons (multiple available on CoCo Games patreon)

Phone Wallpaper Kit OR Phone Wallpaper Override (only pick one)

Control Any Sim

San Myshuno Billboards

PC Game Overrides 

CocoGames Video Game Bundle

Starbucks on Campus

My Wedding Stories Engagement Ring Recolours 

Stand Still in CAS Poses

Hidden Highlight 

Functional Airpods

Hello Kitty Infant Seat

The Missing Plumbob

No zzz (when sim is sleeping)

Towel After Shower

Functional PS5

Black Art Painting Mod

The Sims 2 Font or Life is Strange Font (only pick one)

Gallery Poses (female)

Gallery Poses (male)

Gallery Poses (couple or duo) 

Take Off Shoes With Animation

Stop Random Accessories on Townies

Parenthood Recolour - link is at the bottom of the thread

lighting

check my updated lighting mod list here

cas & loading screen

CAS background

Loading Screen Plumbob Replacement  OR by pinkishwrld

Minimalist CC Wrench Override

More CAS Columns (I use 5)

Map Replacements Overhaul

I alternate my CAS backgrounds so see below for my fave creators:

- MeekGames

- LadySimmer

- SlimmazSimz

- Essemelle 

- BougieChloe

- SierraTheSimmer

- Xurelia

- DonavinGames

- NeriSims

food

Somik & Severinka (I use the Realistic Cooking Mod & all others they have)

ONI Custom Food

QMBIBI Stirring the Pot

QMBIBI Thee Kitchen Tablet

Functional Breakfast Cereals

Airfryer

Waffle Maker

Pressure Cooker

gameplay

misc

Computer Side Gigs

Kuttoe Mini Mods: Small Additions

Bed Cuddle

Carry & Kiss

Longer Parties & More Guests

Functional Magazines

Better Social Media Sponsorships

Higher Lifestyle Brand Payouts 

QMBIBI Skincare Mod

QMBIBI Express Delivery

QMBIBI BabyCare Overhaul

Online Skills 

It’s Movie Time 

BabyCare Mod

Basemental Drugs

Basemental Gangs

Celebrate Adoption

Sip & Paint Event

Luxury Real Estate Career

Recipe Notebook

Sulani Events Calendar and Flyer

Functional Personal Care Products

Go For A Jog... Together

Morning Routine

Everyone Can Sleep Together

Spa Day Face Masks From Mirrors

Pole Dance Mod

Online Apprenticeships 

Turn the TV on

Ask For Money 

UI Cheats

MC Command Center

Self Manicure & Pedicure

Make Functional Perfumes

Shear Brilliance - Active Hairstylist Career

Cute Romance

LOT 51

- Ring Doorbell 

- Dust Buster 

- Plumbros (heating, plumbing & cooling)

- Alarm Clock 

- Simlink (wifi)

High School Years

Fashion Authority   KimbaSprite has a tutorial on this mod here

More Classmates

Adeepinigo

I have many mods by this creator, check out their website here

Lumpinou

There is an index on Lumpinou’s Patreon with all the below mods listed, see here

- LGBTQIA+

- Memory Panel Mod 

- Open Love Life

- RPO Collection “Realistic & Pregancy Overhaul”

- Science Baby Tweak

PandaSama Childbirth 

SimRealist 

- Mortem 

- Real Estate

- Private Practice

- Sim National Bank 

- Sim National Bank Bills

- Sim National Bank Financial Center

SimWithShan

- Cyber Teacher Career

- Homebody Prefences

- Housewife Aspiration

pose player mods (for in game photos)

- Andrew Poseplayer 

- Teleport Any Sim 

Go to creators for poses & animations: 

- KatVerse 

- King Black Cinema 

- Frxsk0sims

- helgatisha

- AfroSimtricSims 

- Gawdly Games

- Hardswae

- Maysbat

- TS4 Poses (tumblr blog)

♡

[kingkatsuki]

Imagining Mitsuki trying to play matchmaker

And maybe she’s done that before, thrown girls at her son hoping he’ll hit it off with one of them and give her grandchildren. But it just royally pisses him off and he wants nothing to do with any of them. Then maybe she gives up for a while

But booooyyyyy oh boy, if you’ve caught his eye and she notices? She may not have introduced you, but she’ll make it happen. Just trying to help him out ya know?

She’d have to be as subtle about it as possible though. I could see him pushing you away just to spite her, even if he was head over heels for you.

I got a little carried away talking about this, but I just love the idea of Mitsuki meaning well, but never quite getting it right.

Warnings: Mitsuki tries to play matchmaker.

Word Count: 1.6k.

It isn’t that Mitsuki wants to force him into a relationship, she means well. She doesn’t like the thought of him coming home to an empty apartment each night, especially because she’s one of the few people who know about his night terrors. She’s been on the receiving end of many a call at four in the morning where he’s calling to make sure everything’s okay, or hearing him as a young man screaming in the night when he wakes up from another one of those nightmares. And although she’s taught him well, never needing to learn to cook, clean or use a washing machine— some companionship can’t hurt.

There was a time that Mitsuki thought that Bakugou wasn’t searching for love— that he’d already found it. His cheeks turning a violent red when she’d suggested that he was dating Kirishima, immediately reassuring him that she wouldn’t love him any less and that she’s happy he’s found someone as Bakugou tried to set her straight.

It isn’t that she ignores Bakugou when he says he’s not looking. She’s just worried, and maybe she’s right. Maybe he is lonely, and could use someone to help fill that void between work and sleep.

A mother can always tell, after all.

But Mitsuki’s methods can be a little unorthodox. Masaru tries to tell her not to meddle, that their son will find love when he wants to. On his terms, when he’s good and ready. But now he’s pushing thirty, not even a tabloid based rumour about a girlfriend and she starts to get antsy.

The window for grandchildren is slowly closing, and the hope is diminishing so of course she has to take matters into her own hands. It’s for Bakugou’s benefit, it’s like she’s doing him a favour.

At first Mitsuki is trying to set him up with someone based on attributes, wealth, success, career goals. Even though it’s difficult trying to find someone as motivated and strong as her son, she knows there are thousands upon thousands of women out there that would love to date him.

And poor Bakugou would prefer to be doing anything else with his time, sitting in his boxers playing video games and sipping a beer sounds far better than a twelve course dinner with portions so small he’s got to cook at home after. Especially with women he could care less about, listening to them drone on at him about their meaningless lives while he picks at his hors d'oeuvre two courses in.

No matter how perfect these women seem on paper, how compatible they are based on personality tests and star signs the dates never work out.

When this tactic doesn’t work, Mitsuki still won’t give up. Working in the fashion industry for as long as she has means she’s got a phone book full of gorgeous women. Personalities may not match up, but however bias it may sound she knows her son is an attractive man. So it’s easy to scroll through her contacts to find an array of women who would jump at the chance of a date with the Number Two Hero (also another benefit she slips in to conversation).

Bakugou tugs at the black tie around his neck as he stands awkwardly in the corner of another one of his mothers networking parties. Wondering how at 29 he’s still subjected to this kind of misery, thinking this would have stopped well into his teenage years. Groaning internally when he can see her out of the corner of his eye dragging a pretty young woman towards him. He knows the drill, knows exactly what that old hag is up to as she gives him a warning glare that only he can see. Turning to the poor girl with a faux sincere smile as she introduces her to him, her hand tightening around his forearm in warning as he offers his hand out to the poor girl.

But as quickly as Mitsuki arrived she’s gone, pretending to wave at someone in the crowd as she excuses herself and leaves Bakugou standing alone with this woman. Listening to her begin to rattle off ad campaigns or endorsements she’s been involved in like he gives a fuck, and talking about how many offers she’s received for her next one. It’s all he can do not to tell her that he doesn’t care and walk off as he notices that old hag watching from across the room as he throws back his whiskey and excuses himself to the bar. At least there’s enough alcohol to drown out the pain and suffering his mother is currently inflicting on him.

Mitsuki’s quick to join him, wine glass in hand, as she asks what he thinks and gushes about how pretty and perfect she is.

“Yeah? So why don’t you date ‘er then?” Bakugou scoffs as his mother rolls her eyes and he can tell if there were fewer people in the room she would’ve hit him upside the head by now.

It’s exhausting.

Groaning as he collapses into bed to find one new text message from the girl he’d been introduced to hours earlier. Knowing that his interfering mother had clearly given his phone number out— again.

But when perfect matches, and pretty faces don’t work Mitsuki changes tactic. After that, it’s just anyone.

Bakugou could be saying thank you to a girl in a coffee shop whilst he’s out running errands and Mitsuki is asking if she wants to go on a date with her son— she already had a boyfriend. Or the kind waitress at lunch who gave him a little extra spice in his ramen— she wasn’t interested in men. And even one time where Bakugou stopped to let a lady onto the train before him— she ended up posting about it all over social media before he’d even arranged the first date.

Deep down, there’s never anyone Bakugou truly wants. Dates are done out of obligation, and spending a few hours taking someone out for food or drinks means his mother is off his back for a few weeks or a few months depending on how well he can hide the immediate break up.

It’s a few months later when Bakugou realises the true lengths of how far his mother is willing to go to get him married off. He’s given a short, curt answer about his last break up. A “relationship” that Mitsuki thinks lasted for six months, but really there wasn’t even a third date. He’s out for drinks with the guys after work when Mina shoves her phone in his face, drunkenly squealing about how she didn’t realise he was trying to date people right now. And Bakugou didn’t realise himself— grabbing the phone from her as he assessed the profile. Thinking it was just another scam account trying to con lonely, desperate women out of their money, but he notices it. Pictures uploaded to the profile that only his mother has access to, key words that she’s used on many occasions to describe him.

That old hag. He groans, passing the phone back to Mina as he steps out of the bar to call his mother. Hearing the disappointment in her tone when he says he’s not interested. She doesn’t even try to hide the fact she made the profile, telling him there’s hundreds of women replying to his page. That he can have his pick of any of them if he wants to— but it just doesn’t feel right?

Until there’s you.

And there’s almost something about you that makes Mitsuki not try, because however much she loves and adores her son you’re almost too good for him? You exude happiness, positivity and love. And Bakugou is well, Bakugou.

And somehow you get together and you just work? Like there’s some sort of gravitational pull navigating you into each others orbit. And everything is just easy.

It’s not like expensive dinners, formalities and pretense. It’s comfortable, safe, warm. When Bakugou finds his place with you, he wonders how he ever spent so many years alone. Now he can’t ever imagine life without you, and Mitsuki is shocked when he appears at the door with you for the first time. Because for the first time, her son looks genuinely happy.

The most positive thing about it is now she no longer has to try and play matchmaker for Bakugou, the hard work is finally over. And now she has far more things she can annoy him with instead— like grandchildren and marriage.

And although she may hate to admit it, she’s happy that her son could pick a better match for himself than she ever could. No matter how much she insists that if she’d met you first she would’ve immediately set you two up on a date.

Bakugou finally found his own happiness in you.

But just because she no longer has to play matchmaker, doesn’t mean she won’t try to organise your wedding, your first home, your first child. And you better be prepared for her slightly unorthodox methods for that too— as she buys you pretty lingerie for birthdays, Christmas, Valentines—

“You can’t buy my wife lingerie for valentines, you old hag!”

“Maybe if you’d marry her she’d actually be your wife, you little brat. You should be grateful I’m trying to help.”

And oysters being the main course when she invites you over for dinner—

“They’re a natural aphrodisiac, you know”

“You can’t talk about sex so openly when we’re eating, you old hag. Jesus—”

Most family dinners include Masaru offering you a large glass of wine in the kitchen as you watch your spouses argue together.

But deep down Bakugou is just grateful that you stick around even though Mitsuki is almost a third wheel in your relationship. But you make the perfect team, and together you can handle anything— even his mother.

[shamrockqueen]

Omega retreat : chapter 1

Pairing : Alpha Bucky x Omega Reader

Warnings : R18, Eventual Smut, Not what it seems, talk of medical issues/illness, dating site, ABO dynamics

Word count : 2038

Bucky Masterlist

Summary : As an unmarked and lonely omega you find a flyer for a service called The Omega Retreat. You are paired with a compatible alpha to spend your heat or just a week at a luxurious cabin at a forest resort. Amenities and Utilities included. Enjoy the beautiful scenery, fresh air, as well as the company of an alpha of your choosing. What could possibly go wrong?

You almost stared through her as she spoke to you. Her tight bun of gray hair and her white coat match the sterile esthetic of the cold exam room you both sat in.

You never thought for even a moment that you would be having this kind of conversation, not at your age. You're young, you're healthy, and you should have plenty of time to make a family with the man of your choosing. Yet, there would always be this one thing that sat in the way.

Other women could plan out their lives however they wanted, marry, and even have children with anyone they chose. You were not so lucky. As an omega, you were bound by a biological law brought on by both your local government and your own body. You could fight it with medication at first, but over time everything would stop working, even the bodily system keeping you alive would eventually crash.

This heat had been so bad that you were barely able to move, let alone crawl as far as you had once you’d let yourself fall out of bed. You made it as far as the couch before everything blurred over and your vision turned black. You didn’t hear the phone ringing when work called regarding your absence, and you didn’t hear the banging at the door after they reached out to your family.

Your boss was one in a million, an omega who knew your plight and had the forethought to call your mother when you didn’t show up to work. Your dear mother was quick to call 911 when you didn’t pick up her calls. At least when the EMTs showed up, you were still breathing, but it was far too close of a call this time. If it weren’t for the people who cared about you, this story would have a far different ending.

After this last conversation with the doctor, you’ll be discharged, but you almost didn’t want to listen as she talked about how ‘it’s dangerous for omegas to go so long without having their heats satiated properly’ and that “suppressants can only go so far.”

You just didn’t want to believe it. You were still so young, and it felt like your whole life could come to a screeching halt in just one more month. Of course, all you needed was the real thing. No suppressants and no toys, just a living, breathing man to satiate your screaming inner omega. But, you’d never been with an alpha before; you’ve barely been with anyone, and you were scared.

One of your lesser qualities has always been your extensive social anxieties. Every time it seemed your boundary had to be pushed, you found a way to weasel out of it. You always chose avoidance over confrontation, until now. There was no avoidance anymore, and you knew that for your well-being something had to change.

“I’m just not sure if I’m ready.” You blotted away some fresh tears that tried to drip down your reddened cheek, with a little piece of tissue you had wadded up in your curled hand.

“I understand that for some, it can be a little scary, and we know you’ve done what you could to buy yourself just a little more time. But, this has become something that can’t be made to wait any longer.” Her voice was soothing, and it calmed you just a little, but the overwhelming realization that your bubble of comfort needed to be popped weighed just a little too heavily on you.

She reached behind her for a little blue pamphlet and handed it to you as she spoke. “I think it would be best to consider your options.”

You weren’t sure what that meant until you looked at the leaflet and saw a young woman on the cover looking just as confused as you with the words ‘how to practice safe sex’ sitting below her image.

Then it became very clear that you, in fact, had no other options; you only had one.

She got up to leave so you could get dressed for your discharge. You felt so juvenile as you stared daggers at the girl on the front page of the pamphlet. You wanted to crumple it up in your hand, throw the damn thing away, or maybe just toss it out the window. Yet, you just stared at it as the tears began to spill down your chin.

By the time you’d collected yourself enough to get your clothes on and grab the few things you’d brought with you, that stupid pamphlet was still in your hand. All the way to the check-out desk, you carried it.

It wasn’t until you were next in line to settle your copay that something else caught your eye and happily derail your pitiable thoughts.

It was a little red slip of paper tacked up to a cork board next to the discharge window. You weren’t able to read too much of it as the nurse handed you back your card, but the big, bold words ‘Omega retreat’ caught your attention, along with the image of a big, comfy bed in a cabin-esce setting.

You couldn’t help yourself when you grabbed one of the fliers off the wall before tucking your receipt and other paperwork in your purse. The nurse even smiled a little, as if she knew it was a good find too, as you left the doctor's office.

You forgot all about that blue nightmare of a paper booklet as you walked away with it still on the nurse’s desk. She didn’t think anything of it either as she picked it up and tossed it into the bin.

The idea of a dream getaway outranked a pamphlet for a budding omega's start to a pathetic sex life, much like yours. Maybe that would change, but for your well-being, it had to.

You didn’t stop to read the red flier just yet, and instead folded the paper in your hands as you walked back out to the parking lot. You finally drove away, absentmindedly listening to the grit of your tires rolling around the uneven road of your small town. You didn’t want to think; you didn’t want the distraction of music; you wanted your mind empty, as the numbness was the only thing keeping you from crying again.

With the aid of muscle memory, the drive home blew by quickly. Yet, as you parked in your spot at the duplex, you just slumped back in your seat and stared at the house. It was as if you’d find the answers to all your burning questions ingrained in the wood of the front door, but you knew there’d be none there.

It wasn’t long before the intrusive thoughts came creeping back in as the doctor's words echoed through each of your ears.

You were blessed with the ringing of your cellphone before you could start to break down again.

You unceremoniously sniffed back a flood of ugly tears before scrambling to dig your phone out of your bag.

You click the green button to answer, and the sweet sound of your mother’s voice fills your ear.

“Hi sweetie, did you leave the hospital already?”

“Uh, yeah. I was able to get discharged a while ago; sorry, I hadn’t called you yet.” You felt your hand shake as you gripped the phone.

“That’s ok, dear, as long as you feel better. Did the doctor say anything about how to fix this?”

“She told me what they’ve all told me, mom.”

She sighed for a second before speaking. “And it wasn’t an answer you wanted to hear, I’m sure.”

“They told me to explore my ‘options’.” The second that word spilled from your lips, you thought back about that blue eyesore the doctor had handed you. Though it wasn’t with any of your possessions anymore, You must have left it behind by accident, but you weren’t very heartbroken about it. In its place, of course, was the red flier you’d since folded up, and your eyes were once again caught on its deep and vibrant color as it poked through your purse.

“I want you to do what you think is best, but I don’t ever want to find you like that again.” Your mother’s tone became more serious.

You felt a stray tear leave a warm streak down your cheek to drip off your chin. Your stomach twisted at the thought of perishing in a fog of heat just to leave behind a pitiable corpse.

“I want things to get better, you know I do.”

“I know, dear; I’m just worried. It’s my job to worry after you.”

You chuckled a little before ending the call with a small sentiment. “I love you, mom.”

“I love you too, dear.”

“Bye.” You clicked the call off and sat in your car to wait out a rush of anxiety. You grabbed your bag and pushed out of the car, tossing the door closed as you approached the house.

Once inside, you dropped your purse at the door and just kept walking. The flier, however, sat in your hand after you absentmindedly pinched it between your fingers, waiting to entice you further once you sat back and sunk into your soft couch.

You finally unfolded it, looking over the larger, bolder letters first. ‘Omega retreat. Book your tickets today for a match made in heaven.’

It was a vacation package? Or was it a dating site? It looked like a strange combination of both, and what was even stranger was that it was tacked up in a doctor's office in the first place. Stuff like this usually wouldn’t be allowed in clinics, instead finding their home tacked up in grocery stores or small businesses.

It wasn’t anything to dwell on anymore as you held the slip of paper closer to read it.

“Forget me knot…stud of your choosing." It may be more than just a ‘dating’ service. The premise of being matched with an Alpha ‘Stud’ for a ‘forget me knot’ getaway made a burst of heat rise up in your belly and made your fingers shake just a little.

You’d never been with an alpha before, and although the premise sounds nice, it was still a little scary. The alpha breed had its own rumored behavior of aggression, but it was often accompanied by stories regarding sexual prowess. There were a few omegas from your old school that got their marks before graduating, and a couple others that bounced around from knot to knot comparing girth, roughness, and strength.

Then there was little old you, turning red at the corner of the table as you tried not to draw attention to yourself as you eavesdropped on every juicy moment. You can still remember choking on your sandwich, as one girl described what it was like popping her first knot.

You stared down at your coffee table for a moment, flier now crushed in your tightening little fist as a wave of embarrassment hit you square in the face, lighting your skin in a sharp wave of warmth.

The times have changed, haven’t they? You weren’t the scared little Omega from high school who turned pink at the drop of a hat; you were a beautifully bloomed woman. Yet, sometimes, when you catch sight of your peachy face in the reflection of a mirror, you're not sure anything has changed at all.

The only change that was certain was that many things were much more complicated than when you were younger, namely your body’s natural cycle. That rosy face could heat up and completely boil over the next time your heat rolled around, and with no one to take the pain away, it could lead to your early demise.

Maybe the doctor was right, maybe you needed to find some options, but on your terms.

You look back at the flier, spotting a website listed at the bottom of the page. You chewed at your lower lip before looking over at where your phone still sat by your purse. It wouldn’t hurt to just get a little more information; it would be just a little look, and maybe for the better.

Chapter 2

[tropetember]

Friends To Lovers - Two characters have been friends for years and value their friendship above everything. Unfortunately, they’ve both also secretly fallen in love with each other - but are both too scared to confess because it feels like a betrayal of their friendship.

Secret Identity - Characters A & B have secret alter egos- they’re both in love with the wrong identity.

Whump - A character is comforted/cared for in the aftermath of torture, but the mental wounds take longer to heal than the physical damage.

Coffee Shop/Restaurant AU - Character A is waiting for a blind date and is stood up. Character B is just finishing up their shift at the establishment and, seeing the looks that A is getting, offers to stay and eat with them despite their own exhaustion.

Famous AU - Character A meets Character B for the first time and recognizes their voice as A’s favourite podcaster/radio host/voice actor.

Teacher AU - Character A is a single parent and Character B is their child’s teacher.

Historical AU - The characters are living through a historical war (WWI, WWII, etc). Their main means of communication is through letter-writing. (Epistolary fic with optional in-person scenes between/after letters.)

Time Loop/Coma - Character A is in a coma and keeps reliving the last day before they lost consciousness. There’s something they have to realise before they can wake up.

5 + 1 - 5 times Character A’s kid calls Character B Mom/Dad + 1 time Character B acknowledges they’re their kid.

Drunk Dial - Character A is obsessed with Character B and gets black-out drunk to deal with it. Someone should definitely have taken away their phone.

Business Partners To Friends To Lovers - Character A and Character B meet by chance and, realising they have compatible skills, decide to embark on a business venture together. However, they are not prepared for all the ramifications that come with working alongside each other.

Touch Starvation - A character has spent years building up a tough, strong, untouchable persona. What happens when someone finally touches them gently? (Can be romantic or platonic.)

Slice Of Life - The story of two characters written through scenes only happening in one room of their house. (A number of scenes of domestic life happening in the same room of the house).

Human/Monster Romance - Character A is a human and Character B is a sapient sea creature, and a storm washes them both up and leaves them stranded on a tiny, remote, uninhabited island.

Dating App - Character A’s friends sign them up for a no-faces dating app. Reluctantly, Character A meets someone. Character B is a bit worried about them meeting strangers so they tell their own dating-app friend all about it.  (Or: the Bantr app fic)

Reunions - Two characters reunite many years after a traumatic parting, but new information is revealed that puts everything into a different light.

Love Confession - Character A has been in love with Character B for a long time, and they’ve been trying to confess ever since, but Character B is oblivious to their attempts (or doesn’t believe they are serious). This leads to Character A making increasingly more elaborate and even ridiculous plans to prove their feelings.

Mind Reading - Character A is involved in an incident and can suddenly hear the thoughts of people around them - but only when those people are thinking about Character A. That’s unfortunately bad news for Character B.

Disaster AU - Character(s) get trapped under a collapsing building and have to wait for help without knowing if it’s coming.

Horror - Characters A & B reunite, but slowly Character B realises that Character A’s body is being controlled by… something else.

Age Changes/Future Fic - Characters A & B are old together. Some things change but some things always stay the same.

Major Character Death (maybe!) - Character A is dead. Everything reminds Character B of them. (Character death doesn’t need to be permanent.)

Mythology - Character A is an immortal being/god and Character B is the only mortal who’s interacted with them in centuries.

Accidental Baby Acquisition - Character A rescues a baby/kid, and is then made responsible for the child. Character B is unprepared when they bring them home.

Not Actually Unrequited Love - Character A is trying to move on from Character B by setting B up on a date. Unfortunately, Character B takes this as confirmation that their own feelings for A are not returned.

Fake Dating - Character B pretends to be Character A’s partner so they can stay together while A is sick/injured. The charade goes on far longer than either of them expect. Finally being apart should be a relief, so why does it feel more like a real breakup?

Sexuality Crisis - A repressed character in a homophobic society finds themselves thrust into a city’s underground gay scene, where they meet someone they never expected.

Holidays - Character A’s family is expecting them to bring a date to the annual holiday family reunion. They choose to bring Character B (dating optional).

Regency Style Romance - ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single person in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a spouse.’ (Feel free to change gender as needed.)

Optional:

Hanahaki Disease - Character A is not good at expressing their emotions - this time it might just kill them.

Cowboy/Wild West AU - Character A wants to leave the city. They answer to a newspaper ad for a spouse/farm hand to live on a remote homestead owned by Character B.

Free Space - write the wildest thing you can think of!

Link to main Prompt List

Link to Rules & FAQ

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Autumn Embers Verse

Omegaverse AU where people who are compatible have complementary scents.

Your friends assure you that the bar they’re dragging you to is nicer than it looks online. You highly doubt that, but you’re willing to go along until the three of them get bored and decide to get a car to the club district. And they will get bored, because you recognize the name and address that they’re trying to go to. You’ve never been, but some of your new coworkers on the base have invited you out for drinks and pool.

When Christie flounces out in a bright pink mini-dress, you can’t help but grin. “You look great. Super cute. But I don’t think that’s the vibe of the bar.”

Admittedly, you’re dressed a bit less conservatively than the bar might call for. But you feel cute in your black skater skirt and white top. Styled with floral lace stockings, boots, and silver jewelry, it’s more dressing up than you’ve been able to do in the last 6 months.

“I’m not dressing for the military bar,” Christie says, checking her makeup in the hall mirror before dropping on the couch next to you. She tosses her brown hair over one shoulder and pulls out her phone to order a car. “I’m dressing for when Mel and Jack decide they’re done shopping for alphas and want to go to the club.”

“Military packs are already cohesive,” Jack sniffs, emerging from the hall in cute jeans, a mesh top, and a sensible jacket. Behind him, Mel is dressed very similarly, though they’ve opted for cargo pants. “It’s not impossible that we might find a couple of someones who might be interesting.”

“If nothing else, they’ll buy you drinks,” you concede. “Pretty sure they have pool tables. If there’s one open, maybe we play a couple of rounds. Give Jack a chance to bend over and show off.”

The car, when it arrives, is a little small, but the four of you pile in gamely. You sit in the front, since your hips need the room. The driver gives a smile and a nod through his cloth mask and starts driving as soon as your seatbelt is secure. You reflexively drop the window a bit, though it’s already open. It makes sense - driving groups around all night definitely lends itself to a lot of conflicting scents.

In the back, Chrissy’s floral omega scent plays well with Jack and Mel’s sweet beta and omega mix. The very subtle floral notes of your own scent don’t clash too badly, but the base note of charcoal does sometimes leave people’s noses a bit confused. You catch the moment the driver catches a hint of your scent and darts a look at you, but he doesn’t say anything. You occupy yourself on your phone for the fifteen minute drive, tuning out Chrissie and Jack’s complaints about work.

When you arrive, the bar is just about what you expected. Run-down in a lived-in kind of way but clean. Dim and quiet. The exact opposite of Jack and Chrissie, but that doesn’t stop them from swanning in through the doors and making their way immediately to the bar. You and Mel follow behind. You make eye contact with a couple of people you kind of recognize, give a quirk of a smile as a greeting.

By the time you’ve decided what to drink, Chrissie and Jack have already charmed a trio of alphas into conversation and a promised game of pool. Mel leans into Jack’s back and introduces themself in their quiet way. You give your name with a wave before ordering a whiskey sour.

“Put their drinks on our tab,” one of the alphas says. He holds his hand out to you to shake. “Daniels. I’ve seen you on base before, yeah?”

“I’ve been working admin for a couple of months,” you confirm as you shake his hand. He’s polite enough not to try to rub wrists on a first meeting, at least. His scent reminds you of the bakery near your house. “It’s not a bad job.”

Once everyone has their drinks and the group makes their way over to one of the open pool tables, you think you could have a pretty good night. Daniels and his friends, Bennet and Bakshi, are actually pretty fun. They’re obviously flirting with Chrissie and Jack (and Mel, by extension), but they’re not ignoring you. Daniels and Bakshi, at least, include you in the conversation and ask questions about your job, how you all know each other, where you’re from.

When Bakshi manages to pull Mel into a conversation about video games and cyber security, you and Chrissie excuse yourselves to the restroom.

“I should have worn jeans,” she sighs. “This is really fun, but kind of a waste of an outfit.”

You’re about to laugh when you pass by a table and make eye contact with a man you’ve only seen in passing before. You recognize Sergent MacTavish by his mohawk, and give him a little half smile. Then you notice Captain Price and Sergent Garrick. The blond in a skull themed cloth mask can only be Lieutenant Riley. You give all four of them a startled little nod of acknowledgment, and then Chrissie is tugging you into the bathroom.

You’ve never met anyone from Task Force 141 before. Any time you’ve heard of them, at least two have been sent off somewhere across the world. You don’t have the clearance to deal with any of their reports, but you know enough to understand that they’re practically rock stars.

“Five quid, Jack and Mel have all three of their numbers by the end of the night,” Chrissie interrupts your musing as she checks her makeup in the mirror. As usual, she’s perfect, and you hear her take a selfie.

“Ten quid, Bennet asks for yours,” you counter from the stall.

“No bet, he’s already asked.” Chrissie answers. “But he’s a tool.”

“You like tools.”

“That’s true. It’s the muscles.” she agrees. “If he asks me on a proper date, I won’t say no.”

“Not a waste of a dress, then,” you point out before flushing and making your way to wash your hands. “Is he wearing scent blockers? I can’t get a bead on him.”

“He’s a subtle bit of tobacco leaf. Bakshi is nutmeg and Daniels-”

“Daniels smells like fresh bread,” you finish.

“Oh, ho, ho,” Chrissie chuckles, leaning her hip on the counter as you wash your hands. “Took notice did you?”

“We shook hands.” You roll your eyes. “Kind of hard not to notice.” When you step out of the bathroom, you’re startled to see Sergent MacTavish leaning against the wall on his phone. His eyes snap up to yours and he stands up to his full height. He’s bigger than you expected, and you find yourself helpless to hold his stare. When he smiles, you feel yourself flush.

“Evenin’, bonnie lass,” he says, after a moment. “C’n I get a moment of your time?”

Chrissie practically skips the couple of steps away to stand at the entrance of the hall leading to the bathrooms. She doesn’t quite abandon you with a strange alpha, but she does turn her back and pull out her phone.

Before you can comment on her absence, or introduce yourself, or even think about what to say, MacTavish has stepped close. His scent, something warm and earthy and somehow also floral, floods your senses. At the same time, he leans down to hover his nose just short of touching your temple. You can’t help but blush harder at how bold he’s being. The way he takes your scent into his lungs is just this side of vulgar.

“So it has been you we’ve been scenting around base,” he chuckles, taking a deliberate step back and leaning back against the wall again. He crosses big arms across his chest and smiles. “Gaz’s been tying himself in knots trying to catch more than faded hints near the caf’.”

What are you supposed to say to that? “…Sorry? I’m new to the base.”

He grins. “Well, I’m glad you’re around. Sergent MacTavish.” He doesn’t offer his hand, but considering the how rude he was before, it’s not like he needs to.

You stammer an introduction and decide to make your retreat. “It was, um, nice to meet you, Sergent. I have to get back to my friends.” “Be seeing you around, hen,” he says, and doesn’t move as you make your retreat.

As soon as you’re clear of the hall, you make the mistake of looking that the 141’s table. All of their eyes snap to your face as soon as you’re visible. You almost freeze under their attention, but Chrissie rescues you. She takes your arm and practically marches you across the bar to rejoin Jack and Mel, who immediately pull you close to drag you into some debate about music.

You can’t contribute much to the conversation. Thank goodness for Chrissie, who gleefully carries the discussion. You’re too distracted to do much more than give vague agreements for a long time.

At the end of the night, when you and your friends leave the bar, you chance a glance toward the 141’s table. Four pairs of eyes stare back.

[tianasimstreehouse]

Coffee Time!

(Download at bottom of post)

*Requires Get Together & Discover University*

All files (Coffees, machines etc) have had an update on 19th April ✅

What's in this mod?

1) MAIN Coffee Mod - a required file to brew the new recipes.

~Make sure you have the latest version of the "MAIN Coffee Mod" to be able to brew any new recipes ~

2) Coffee Pot Appliances - custom coffee pots to brew my new recipes with! Choose as many or as little as you like. - Rustic Copper Coffee Pot - French Press

📖 These recipes also work with my TianaSims Cookbook. 📖 You can make them by clicking on the Cookbook > Recipes > Drinks. You can download my cookbook HERE.

2) *Optional* Coffee Beans - a $12 new ingredient required to make a Pot of the coffees. Purchasable via the phone in Groceries, or at the Village Grocery Stall in Henford-On-Bagley.

3) New recipes! Choose the ones you'd like.

These are either entirely new, or remakes of the GT & DU recipes. The coffee recipes now have custom buffs, ingredients (e.g. Cappuccino requires Milk from Cottage Living) and dairy 🥛 or non-dairy characteristics (for the City Living Lactose Intolerant trait). Coffees also have custom buffs and moods.

Recipes listed here:

(Remade) - Ristretto - Cappuccino 🥛 - Mocha 🥛🍫 - Caffe Latte 🥛 - Bicerin 🥛🍫   - Cezve Coffee

(New) - Piccolo 🥛 - Taro Latte 🥛 - Black Sesame Latte* (Small chance a Sim may not like this Latte!) - Tumeric Latte 🌱🥛 - French Vanilla Coffee - Espresso Romano - Vietnamese Coffee (Cà Phê Sữa Đá) - Espresso Con Panna - Rose Latte 🌱🥛 - Irish Coffee 🥛

(Other EA coffees) - Regular Coffee   - Americano   - Macciato 🥛 - EXPRESso - Perfect Pre-work Shot

Also compatible with recipes by @littlbowbub. Download them over at her Patreon: HERE and HERE.

Please let me know if there's any issues with any of the gameplay or recipes! It's the only way I know to make fixes and updates 💛

DOWNLOAD over on Patreon (public/free): https://www.patreon.com/posts/76667129?pr=true

[mariefilms]

╰───► MORAL CONSCIENCE- e. williams smau.

「tres」 ⇢ love between

Pairing — streamer! ellie x youtuber!black fem!reader x rockstar! dina

warnings — 18+ MDNI !!!, cussing, smut, fingering, oral (r receiving)

a/n ik ts took like tears to come out but HERE !( btw, this is a week after dina’s party 🧘🏾) this is also not proofread so.. ntm !!

chapter 2 ⇢ chapter 4

as you locked your phone and got up to let ellie in you felt bad for lying to dina even tho you really didn’t have any obligations to her. it still hadn’t hit you that you and dina were really done and you were fucking around with one of her best friends. but you couldn’t lie, it felt good to be with someone new and not someone who’s fucked you over time and time again.

shaking your head at your slowly declining thoughts you let ellie in and gave her a hug to which she took it upon herself to wrap her arms around your waist and sneakily (not) feel up on your ass and squeeze while pulling you into a heated kiss. you shuddered a moan into her mouth and reciprocated the kiss for a while before breaking it and looking up at her. she smiled and dove back in for more making you smile and let out a soft laugh.

“we’re supposed to be talking, not making out ellie” you smile into her incessant kissing before pulling back from her lips to look into her piercing green eyes. “i know, i know but i couldn’t help it” she kisses you one more time before moving to go sit on your light pink couch. you follow after her and sit facing her with your knees pulled into your chest before speaking, “ um so.. i know we both know how much drama this would cause if dina were to find out. and i think we should like slow down ? i don’t know but i feel like we’re moving very fast especially since i’ve just got of a relationship with dina, who’s you’re literal bestfriend and i feel super shitty right now and i wanna continue pursuing.. this .. thing? we have but-” you stopped yourself at the touch of ellie grabbing your hands to try and help calm you down before you drew in a deep breath and continued on with your rant and exposing how you feel. “but i feel like we should slow down, like no more fucking until we decide if this is something serious and not us just fucking around behind dina’s back” you exhaled deeply once you were finished saying what you needed to say and waited with bated breath to hear ellie’s response

she started nodding her head and said “yea, i agree. we are doing shit very unconventional and i don’t wanna hurt dina nor do i wanna hurt you. i really like you y/n and i want to actually see where this goes even if we are like super sexually compatible” she smirks at you as you groaned at her last statement. “ellie be so for real oh my god!” you laughed at her in embarrassment.

❥—————————————————————————————>

“ellie fuckkk-”

you honestly don’t know how you got in this position. at one point you and ellie were just talking and watching shows on netflix, trying to adhere to your rule of no fucking, but… that’s didn’t last long at all. ellie had (like always) brung some pre-rolls and decided you both should get high. it’s not like the last time y’all did that you both ended up naked under soft silken sheets in a penthouse apartment, but hey! you thought tonight would be different because you set some ground rules until you decided it wasn’t going to fast. you were wrong. as soon as ellie gave you a shotgun kiss it was over.

so now here you were, losing your mind over ellie’s tongue in your pussy. she was so good at sucking your soul and the tongue piercing didn’t help. you’ve already came like two times already and ellie would not let up. she said she’s just trying to make up for causing you so much emotional distress but you called bullshit. you weren’t complaining tho. ellie one of the best you’d ever had, almost better than dina. almost.

“ellie i can’t take itttt” you whined and pushed at her head. she was getting frustrated with how many times you kept trying to run and smacked your thigh before pinning them down by your ears. this girl had you to where you were unable to move and all you could do was take what she gave you. “i told yo ass to stop moving.” she emphasized her words with a harsh thrust of her fingers in your pussy before pistoning them and hitting that spongy spot that made your eyes roll back and your toes curl in pleasure.

all you could do was moan from the immense pleasure you were feeling. you know this whole arrangement was wrong but you couldn’t deny the way ellie made you feel.

“mmm i love this pussy baby” ellie moaned into your clit, still thrusting her slender but long fingers into your pussy. she raised her eyes to look at you. she found your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your mouth agape. your face was contorted in pleasure and she loved the sight of how her ministrations affected you. “you gonna cum baby? feel your pussy clenching all on my fingers” she chuckled at your pathetic state and you whimpered at the rapidly rising feeling of your orgasm approaching. “ellie shittt im close, don’t stop!” you grabbed ellie’s shoulders and digged your nails in at the feeling of her speeding up.

you were out of your mind. ellie was pounding her fingers into you so hard and fast that all that was on your mind was her. you weren’t thinking about dina and what would happen if yours and ellies escapades we’re to be found out. the combination of ellie fucking you with her fingers and making out with your clit pushed you over the edge with a piercing scream. “oh my godddd” ellie groaned into your pussy and pulled out her fingers before licking your cum off of them.

“you taste so good baby” she moaned and bent down to give you a deep kiss. you whimpered into her mouth while reciprocating and wrapping your arms around her neck. she pecked you on the lips one, two times before leaning back and smirking at you smugly. “oh fuck off!” you rolled your eyes and hit her upside the head with your pillow, she laughed in response and gave you another kiss.

[caashmoneynae]

MY MASTERLIST. -> click here for more!

❦

FAMILY AFFAIR.

JOEY BADA$$ x @thatone-girly 🤎

SUMMARY: in which Jo-Vaughn persuades Bianca to go on a family trip with him and their son. little does she know, the trip was a plot to get her back. ✨

❦

"𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗞 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗗 𝗧𝗢 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗡' 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢' 𝗙𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗗 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗦 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬𝗗𝗔𝗬, 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟," Bianca chuckled, folding up the clean and dry colored laundry, as she shook her head and Nia laughed at her reaction, "okay, finish the story. tell me how the date ended."

"okay so, after him talkin' about himself the whole date and not even giving me room to talk, reply, add on to what he was sayin' — nothing at all, the waiter came and dropped our bill off. after he paid for our food, this muh'fucka' said "you the quiet type, huh?" and bitch... when i tell you it took everything in me not to yell at that man inside that restaurant with all them white folks in there," Nia exhaled dramatically, curling her ginger hair, as Bianca let out a giggle and folded her cropped tank top, "that man was literally about to have me lookin' like a crazy ass mad black woman! like, nigga, this ain't no Tyler Perry movie!"

"and i'm not bitter. i'm mad as hell!" Bianca mimicked, quoting a line from "Diary of a Mad Black Woman", as she and Nia laughed in sync and Nia slightly jumped from almost burning her hand with her curling iron.

"bathe him, feed him, clothe him... uh, stop makin' those bubbles," Nia quoted, pointing her curling iron at her phone, as Bianca giggled and sat the folded laundry inside the large white basket, picking it up and tucking it under her arm while she grabbed her phone and headed for the staircase, "it's safe to say that i ain't go home with him and i blocked him when i got home. i can't stand a chatterbox ass nigga that don't give me room to talk, B. i'm so glad i drove myself there because i'll be damned if i'ma let him see where i stay."

"preachhh. it's one thing for me to do all the talking and you to talk back or for us to evenly engage in conversation, but it's another thing for you to do all the talking and i ain't got one word in! that shit gets annoyin'," Bianca exclaimed, shaking her head, as she walked into Kamari's — her 5-year-old son — room and sat the laundry basket on his toddler bed, "so, where you 'bout to go? 'cause i know you ain't gettin' dolled up for no reason."

"i'm surprised Joey even let you date with how obsessive he is over you," Nia joked, smirking, as she playfully winked at her phone and Bianca chuckled while she put away her son's clothing, "but i got a brunch date with this lil' white boy on my roster. i ain't never dated outside my race before, so we gon' see how this go."

Joey — also known as Joey Bada$$ or just Jo-Vaughn — was Bianca's baby father and old boyfriend. they were like two peas in a pod until they broke up a week before his tour for his '2000' album started. there was no bad blood in the breakup because the two just felt like they had drifted away from each other and were no longer compatible. they remained friends and still kept in contact with each other since they had a son, and they co-parented so well that most people still thought they were together, which the two of them were grateful for because it kept the media off their backs.

neither of the two wanted to be posted on blogs just because they broke up, so they continued to front for social media like they were still together, even though you could clearly tell they weren't.

despite this, Bianca still tried to branch out and date other men, but it never worked out because Jo-Vaughn would always find a way to chase them away, and sometimes Kamari would chase them away as well. ever since April — specifically, after he dropped his R&B single "Fallin'" — he had been trying to get Bianca back, and so far his attempts had been unsuccessful because Bianca didn't feel a desire to return to him. sure, he was an amazing boyfriend and an even better father, but Bianca believed that the two were better apart than they were together.

as long as their son was happy, she felt no need to return to his father, despite his numerous attempts of trying to romance her and make her his again.

"listen... we don't talk about that, okay? i'm lucky i managed to keep the boy i'm talking to now," Bianca chuckled, shaking her head, as she closed Kamari's closet and shut one of his drawers while she picked up the laundry basket and headed to her bedroom, "and girl, it's like 5 o'clock in the afternoon, what you mean 'brunch'? but okaaaay, i see you with the white boy on ya roster! you better work, Kali!"

"you a whole fool! but like i said, we goin' to brunch, i don't care what time it is and neither does he," Nia laughed, unplugging her curling iron, as she pushed her curled hair behind her shoulder, "and if i know Joey like i think i know him, he gon' run ole' dude off next, trust me. wait, speaking of him, where my nephew? i wanna see lil' KJ before my date, he's my good luck charm."

the "ole' dude" Nia was referring to was Malcolm. he and Bianca had been talking for about two weeks and had been taking things slow since he had just gotten out of a relationship. he was sweet, caring, had manners, and was good with kids since he had two nieces, and that alone made Bianca fall for him harder every day.

there was no doubt in Bianca's mind that Jo-Vaughn knew about Malcolm, but since he had never brought him up, she assumed that he didn't know.

little did she know, she was completely wrong.

"K is with his daddy. you know this week was his week to have him," Bianca chuckled, sitting the laundry basket on her king-sized bed, as she began to put away her clothing, "they should be here in a few minutes tho', the sun 'bout to start settin' in about an hour or so."

"take a picture of him for me and send it to me 'cause i ain't got a few minutes to spare, i got a date to go on," Nia advised, chuckling, as she put away her now cold curling iron and grabbed her phone, "i'ma call you later on tonight to tell you what happens, and if you don't receive a call from me tonight, i got covered in snow."

"Nia, please get off my phone with that shit," Bianca laughed, shaking her head, as Nia giggled and playfully stuck her tongue out at her, "have a good time playin' with ya snowman, Ni'Ni."

"shit, hopefully. bye, mamas!" Nia smiled, waving her goodbye, as Bianca smiled at her and let out a chuckle before waving back to her.

"bye, sunshine." as the call ended, Bianca chuckled at her friend's behavior and she shook her head as she put away her undergarments, tucking them inside a drawer before her doorbell suddenly rang and her head raised at the sound of it.

shutting the drawer, Bianca grabbed the laundry basket and carefully jogged downstairs as she headed to the laundry room, sitting the basket in the corner of the room close by the dryer while she speed-walked to the front door. unlocking and opening the door, Bianca was immediately greeted by Kamari hugging her leg, making the light-skinned woman smile widely while she bent down to pick him up.

"hi, papaaa!" Bianca smiled, wrapping her arms around him, as she kissed his cheek and Kamari giggled in her arms, "you had fun with Daddy this week?"

"yeah! we played gamesss, went out to eattt, and— Mommy, i made some friends at the playground!" Kamari smiled widely as Bianca let out a soft chuckle at his enthusiasm and ran her fingers over his neatly braided black cornrows.

"that's good! i want you to tell me allll about it when i finish talking to ya daddy, okay?" Bianca asked, lowering the toddler back to the ground, as she looked up at Jo-Vaughn and held out her hand, signaling for him to put his backpack in her hand while she grabbed the strap of it and handed it to Kamari, "go upstairs and unpack your bag, and when i'm finished talking, i'll come get you."

"yes, ma'am!" as Kamari excitedly ran off towards the staircase, Bianca and Jo-Vaughn locked eyes, and she noticed a small flirtatious smile on his face, making her let out a soft chuckle.

"why you lookin' at me like that, J?" Bianca asked, chuckling, as she looked up at the 6'1 male and rested one of her hands on her hip.

"i can't look at you?" Jo-Vaughn playfully smirked, running his tongue over his lips, as Bianca raised her brow at him and the two soon laughed in sync, "nah, i'm just playin', girl, how you been?"

"you askin' me this like you didn't see me last week," Bianca chuckled, earning a soft chuckle from her baby father, "but i been good, what about you? and how was Kamari?"

"a week is a long ass time, B. but i been good too, and you know KJ ain't never no trouble. he has his moments when he gets wanna throw tantrums 'cause he can't get what he wants, but other than that, he was good. he spoiled just like his damn mama." Jo-Vaughn chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets, as Bianca laughed and raised her brow at him.

"who spoiled his mama tho'?" Bianca asked, crossing her arms across her chest, as a small smile crept onto her face and she awaited his answer.

"ya mama and daddy did. that don't got nothin' to do with me 'cause i'on know nothin' about that," Jo-Vaughn jokingly shrugged, looking off to the side, as Bianca laughed and reached out to hit him, making him laugh while he grabbed her wrist, "a'ight, i spoiled you, damn. you out here tryna' get domestic and shit."

"because you lyin' like you ain't used to spoil my ass when we was together. and you wonder why 'Mari so spoiled... nigga, that's yo' doing, not mine." Bianca laughed as Jo-Vaughn laughed with her and let go of her wrist.

"if i have your permission... i wanna spoil you and him again." Jo-Vaughn announced, a smile on his face, as Bianca raised a brow and looked him up and down.

"what you got planned in your mischievous ass mind?" Bianca asked, leaning against the doorway, as she crossed her arms for a second time.

"i wanna take all three of us on a lil' family trip to Orlando. i know lil' man starts Kindergarten next month, so i wanna take him to Disney World before school starts, and i want you to come with us." Jo-Vaughn explained as Bianca glanced down at their feet in deep thought before looking back up at him.

"i'on know about that, Joey. i mean, it'll be good for him, but—"

"B, c'mon, man, you gotta' come with us. it ain't a family trip if he ain't got his mama. don't be like that, baby." Jo-Vaughn pleaded as Bianca cracked a small smile at him referring to her as 'baby' and she let out a soft chuckle.

"i told you about callin' me that, boy," Bianca chuckled as she pushed her black knotless braids behind her shoulder, "but i guess i'll tag along. for him, not for you."

"girl, stop frontin', you know you still love my ass." Jo-Vaughn chuckled, waving her off, as Bianca playfully rolled her eyes and softly chuckled.

"when we leavin'? and at what time?" Bianca asked, raising a brow, as a smile rested on her face and Jo-Vaughn smiled at her.

"tomorrow morning at 8. we flyin' over on my private jet, so go pack you and KJ a bag for the weekend and i'll see y'all tomorrow."

—

"all done, papa," Bianca cooed softly, smoothing the rest of the Vaseline on her hands on Kamari's brown-skinned face, as she gently kissed his nose and let go of his face, "go downstairs and lay on the couch. you can go to sleep until Daddy gets here."

"yes, ma'am." Kamari yawned softly, rubbing his eye, as he stood up from his bed and walked out of his room while Bianca rubbed her hands together to get rid of the excess shine the Vaseline had left.

surprisingly, getting Kamari up and ready at 7 A.M. wasn't as hard as you may have thought it was, and usually, it was difficult for Bianca to get him up early because he wasn't a morning person, but today was different. it was kind of challenging to get him out of his bed, but other than that, things went smoothly, which gave Bianca a slight shock.

nonetheless, she was grateful it didn't take him long because if it did, she most likely wouldn't have time to get herself ready.

walking into her bedroom, Bianca stood at her vanity mirror as she adjusted the zipper on her baby blue romper, her braids up in a ponytail and swinging easily with each movement her head made. while she adjusted her breasts in her top, her phone suddenly began ringing, and she walked away from the mirror as she walked to her bed and picked up her phone beside the packed suitcase, realizing that Nia was calling her and not Jo-Vaughn.

"good morning, sunshine." Bianca smiled, answering the phone, as she walked back over to her vanity and propped up her phone, seeing Nia's face pop up on her screen while she walked to her closet to pick out a pair of slides to put on.

"good morning, mamas— ooh, where you goin'?" Nia asked, noticing her attire and the bag on the bed, as Bianca chuckled and slipped a pair of her white Nike slides on her feet.

"Joey's takin' me and KJ to Orlando. i gotta' keep my voice down because he doesn't know yet, but he wants to take him to Disney World and wanted me to come along so it could be a family trip, so i told him i'd come," Bianca explained lowly, adjusting her feet in her shoes, as she walked over to her phone and noticed a smirk on Nia's face, "what you smirking for?"

"i'm not gon' say nothin' but this: when y'all asses come back from Florida, y'all gon' be back together. mark my words, B. you gon' forget allll about that nigga you talkin' to when you see ya baby zaaaaddy." Nia smirked, making Bianca laugh, as Bianca held onto her phone and shook her head, peeking out of her bedroom window and seeing Jo-Vaughn's car pull up in her driveway.

"whatever you say, Ni'Ni. just because i'm goin' outta' state with him doesn't mean i'ma go back to him. this is for Kamari, not us," Bianca chuckled, walking away from the window, as she walked over to her bed and zipped up her suitcase, "and speaking of him, he just pulled up. so, i'ma talk to you later on. make sure to run me in on what happened with Mr. White Chocolate last night."

"deny it alll you want to, B, i know him and i know you. he ain't gon' stop 'til he gets you back and you bound to fold underneath all that pressure, respectfully. it's only a matter of time, sweetness," Nia chuckled, raising her brow, as she adjusted the bonnet on her head, "but, i got'chu, i'ma definitely run you in when you get time. bye, mamas, have a safe trip."

"bye, sunshine, and thank you. i'll make sure to send you some pictures of your nephew to make your day." Bianca chuckled, smiling, as she pulled her suitcase off of the bed and rested it on the floor.

"you better. or i'ma hop on a plane to Orlando and beat yo' ass." the call ended after Nia's remark, and Bianca laughed at her statement as knocks sounded off at her door, making her smile slightly widen because she knew Jo-Vaughn didn't want to ring the doorbell in case Kamari was asleep.

walking downstairs with her suitcase and phone in her hand and her crossbody purse on her shoulder, Bianca sat the suitcase next to the couch and slipped her phone inside her purse as she walked over to the door and unlocked and opened it, revealing her baby father.

"i'm glad you knocked 'cause he's asleep." Bianca chuckled, stepping to the side and allowing him to come in, as Jo-Vaughn chuckled and cracked a smile at seeing Kamari asleep on the couch.

"i had a feelin' my lil' man was sleepin'." Jo-Vaughn chuckled, carefully scooping the toddler off of the couch, as Kamari gently writhed in his arms and Jo-Vaughn grabbed their suitcase, making Bianca furrow her brows.

"you gon' carry him and the suitcase?" Bianca asked, her facial expression resembling one of confusion, as Jo-Vaughn looked over at her and chuckled at her reaction.

"you carried him for 9 months, the least i could do is carry him to the car," Jo-Vaughn chuckled, making Bianca crack a smile, as Bianca let out a soft laugh and the two headed for the front door, "plus, you know i ain't never let you carry no bags, girl. especially if they heavy. you think just 'cause we not together no more that i was gon' stop doin' that?"

"just a lil' bit." Bianca chuckled, closing the front door, as she locked the door and tucked her keys into her purse while she walked to his car.

"well, you thought wrong, B. i'm a gentleman at heart, pretty girl," Jo-Vaughn flirtatiously smirked, winking at her, as he walked to his car and opened the back door, gently sitting Kamari inside while he buckled his seat belt and closed the door afterward, "and you bet not touch that door handle."

"yes, sir," Bianca joked, quickly putting her hand down since she was already reaching for the door handle, as Jo-Vaughn opened her door for her and Bianca smiled while she climbed into his passenger seat, "i done told you about that flirting, boy. but thank you, baby daddy."

"anytime, baby mama."

—

"ooh, nice jet." Bianca smiled, holding Kamari in her arms while his head rested on her shoulder, as Jo-Vaughn rolled the luggage to the plane and let out a soft chuckle.

"thank you, B. nice things don't come cheap," Jo-Vaughn chuckled, earning a small laugh from Bianca, as the two approached the jet and a man dressed in pilot attire walked out of the door, "B, this is Francis, he gon' be our pilot and our chauffeur when we touch down in Orlando. Francis, this is Bianca, my beautiful baby mama."

"it's nice to meet you, Ms. Bianca. i've heard so much about you," Francis smiled warmly, holding out his hand, as Bianca smiled back at him and shook his hand, keeping one of her hands on the toddler on her chest to keep him from falling, "if you don't mind me asking, who's the little guy in your arms?"

"it's nice to meet you, too! and this is Kamari, our son. he's not a morning person, so you'll probably see him awake once the plane lands." Bianca smiled, chuckling, as Francis smiled at her before his eyes landed on the bags in Jo-Vaughn's hands.

"i'll take those on the jet for you, sir, if you don't mind." Francis offered as Jo-Vaughn glanced down at the bags in his hands before handing them to the pilot.

"i 'preciate that, F. i'll make sure to leave you some tips before the day's over with," Jo-Vaughn smiled, watching him grab the suitcases, as Francis smiled and nodded his head before walking back up the stairs, making Jo-Vaughn look over at Bianca, "ladies first, right?"

"yeah, i'm glad you remember," Bianca joked, jokingly mugging him, as Jo-Vaughn laughed at her and Bianca made her way up the stairs, looking around at the interior of the jet with a smile, "oh, my God, it's gorgeous in here."

"i'm glad you like it. i was hopin' you did," Jo-Vaughn smiled, closing the jet's door behind him, "i know you probably wanna go back to sleep, so there's a bedroom back there for you and him to go. i'ma be back there in a minute."

"yes, baby father." Bianca joked, earning a laugh from Jo-Vaughn, as the two parted their ways and Bianca made her way to the back of the jet, opening the door of the bedroom and walking inside.

"oh, i just know this bed is comfortable as hell." Bianca mumbled to herself, looking at the queen-sized mattress, as she gently laid Kamari on the bed and took off his shoes, sitting them by the door while she took off her slides and placed them by his.

taking off her purse, Bianca sat it on the small wooden table next to the bed and unzipped it as she sat down on the bed and pulled out her phone, checking her notifications and going through them while she heard footsteps come closer to the room.

"made yourself at home?" Jo-Vaughn chuckled, a small smile on his face, as he closed the door and took off his shoes, leaving them beside Bianca and Kamari's shoes while he walked over to the bed.

"somethin' like that," Bianca chuckled, texting Nia back, as she turned off her phone and slipped it back inside her purse, "i can't wait to sleep on this comfortable ass bed. you picked a good ass mattress, J."

"you gon' be complimentin' me all day, huh?" Jo-Vaughn questioned, chuckling, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sat it on the other small wooden table on his side of the bed, "we got about a 4-hour flight anyways, so you'll be well-rested before we land."

"i just might, depending on what other surprise you got up yo' sleeve," Bianca chuckled, putting her legs on the bed, as she carefully grabbed Kamari and laid him between her and Jo-Vaughn, "and shit, i hope so. with how comfortable this bed is, it feels like i'm layin' on clouds."

"yeah, and you wonder why i bought it," Jo-Vaughn chuckled, laying on his back, as he rested his arms underneath his head and closed his eyes, "goodnight, baby mama."

Bianca chuckled softly and lay on the bed as she laid on her right side and her eyes gradually shut, "goodnight, baby daddy."

—

"Mommyyyy, wake up!" the sound of Kamari's enthusiasm-filled voice rang through Bianca's eardrums and she felt his dainty hands shake her by the shoulders, making a smile slowly spread across her face while her eyes fluttered open, "we're hereeee!"

Bianca's eyes locked onto her widely smiling child and she looked around the room to spot Jo-Vaughn, but he was nowhere to be found. assuming he was in the cockpit with Francis, Bianca let out a giggle at Kamari shaking her again, despite her being fully awake, and she wrapped her arms around his body while she sat up.

"your daddy told you where we were goin', huh?" Bianca asked, chuckling, as she smiled at the elated toddler and Kamari nodded his head eagerly.

"yes, ma'am. he told me we're going after we stop at the hotel." Kamari smiled, resting his hands on her shoulders, as Bianca reached into her purse and grabbed her phone.

"you know the name of the hotel, papa?" Bianca asked, turning on her phone, as she checked her notifications and Kamari played with the ends of her braids.

"yeah, but... i don't know how to say it. Daddy told me i said it wrong." Kamari explained, occupying himself with her hair, as Bianca chuckled and went through her unread messages, seeing some texts from Nia and Malcolm.

"it's the Waldorf Astoria hotel," Jo-Vaughn chimed in, walking into the room, as Bianca glanced up at him and Kamari looked back at him, "i was stuck between choosing that one and the Ritz-Carlton, but i made my decision about two nights ago."

"aren't both of those expensive 5-star hotels? don't be spendin' all that money at one time, J, i told you about that." Bianca advised, shooting a text to her friend and her talking stage, as she turned off her phone and slipped it back into her purse.

"as long as i'm makin' you and my son happy, i don't care 'bout nunna' that, B. and you know that," Jo-Vaughn chuckled, walking towards the bed, as he plopped down on his stomach beside Bianca and Kamari, "plus, it ain't like i'm not gon' get it back. the money flow don't stop, baby. ain't that right, K?"

"yeah!" Kamari smiled, watching his father raise his hand, as Kamari gave him a high five and Jo-Vaughn smiled at him while Bianca let out a laugh.

"you two are gonna be the death of me one day," Bianca chuckled, untying the black durag on Kamari's cornrows, as she removed the rag from his head and ran her fingers over his scalp, "where's Francis?"

"he went to go get the Rolls Royce so he can drive us to the hotel." Jo-Vaughn explained, watching Bianca slip their son's durag in her purse, as Bianca's brows furrowed and she looked over at him, playfully tugging at the gold hoop in his ear before reaching to remove his stocking cap.

"Jo-Vaughn, how much money have you spent?" Bianca asked, raising a brow, as she removed his stocking cap from his low-cut hair and ran her fingers over it while one of her acrylics slid through the side-parted cut in his hair.

"i'm not tellin' you all'at... you gon' be tryna' whup me." Jo-Vaughn defended, chuckling, as Bianca playfully rolled her eyes and the sound of a car horn sounded off from outside, causing Bianca to glance out of the bedroom door.

"Daddy, what's a Rolls Royce?" Kamari asked cluelessly, watching Jo-Vaughn get up from

the bed to grab his shoes, as Kamari climbed off of Bianca's lap and sat at the end of the bed so his father could put his shoes on.

"it's a car, little one," Jo-Vaughn explained, crouching down in front of him, as he grabbed one of Kamari's feet and slipped his shoe on, "remember when you saw that car on TV with the stars on the ceiling?"

"it's one of them?" Kamari asked in awe, his eyes lighting up, as Jo-Vaughn put on his other shoe and looked up at him with a small smile before nodding his head, "i wanna see!"

"Mr. Scott, i've prepared the car!" the sound of Francis's voice caused electricity to run through Kamari's little body, and he hopped off of the bed and ran out of the room as his eyes locked on Francis, who was standing by the door of the jet.

"Mr. Francis, does the car really have stars on the ceiling?" Kamari asked, smiling widely, as Francis looked down at him and smiled at his ecstatic face.

"yes, it does, little man. you wanna see?" Francis smiled as Kamari jumped up and down in excitement and quickly nodded his head.

"yes, please!" Kamari exclaimed excitedly as he and Francis left the jet, leaving Jo-Vaughn and Bianca there by themselves.

"his lil' ass gon' be bouncin' off walls all day long," Bianca chuckled, grabbing her purse, as she stood up from the bed and walked towards the door of the bedroom to slip on her shoes, "and i don't know how many times i gotta' tell you to stop callin' me pet names, especially in front of 'Mari. he's young, he could get confused."

"ain't nothin' for our lil' man to be confused about. his daddy loves his mama, that's all that is," Jo-Vaughn declared, a small smirk on his face, as Bianca slipped on her shoes and attempted to walk past him but Jo-Vaughn stopped her by wrapping his arm around her waist, "and i ain't stoppin' 'til i get you back, B, i told you that. you can resist it all you want, but by the time this trip ends, you gon' be all mine again, shorty."

Bianca stared into his eyes and her body tingled from his touch as she rested her hands on his chest and thought about pushing him away, but she soon got lost in her thoughts instead of acting upon them. his words sounded eerily similar to the words Nia had spoken to her this morning, and it made her wonder if Nia secretly was in on what Jo-Vaughn had planned, but knowing how Nia is, she wouldn't admit it unless it worked in her favor.

sooner or later, Bianca would eventually cave into Jo-Vaughn's advances. since the two were together for a few years, he knew all of her weaknesses, and he could easily use them to his advantage, which made Bianca slightly nervous.

one usage of one of her "worst" weaknesses, and she was bound to be bent over in their hotel room at the end of the night.

"whatever you say, Joey," Bianca mumbled, breaking their eye contact, as she felt

butterflies in her stomach and lightly removed his arm from around her, "stop tryna' romance me and let's go. Kamari ain't gon' be occupied with those stars for that long, J."

Jo-Vaughn chuckled and cracked a smile as he followed behind Bianca and the two made their way to the exit of the jet, his eyes trailing down her figure and stopping at her ass while he ran his tongue over his lips, "you got a point... but i know what can occupy me."

"Jo-Vaughn, i'ma slap yo' nasty ass with my purse."

—

"this room is beautiful... you really outdid yourself with this, J." Bianca chuckled, smiling, as the three walked into the hotel room and Kamari immediately took off running down the short hallway.

"i had to get the best for you and KJ, so i got a luxury suite. there's two bedrooms in here, a master bedroom and a kid's bedroom, so—"

"wait. one master bedroom?" Bianca asked, her brows furrowing, as Jo-Vaughn looked over at her and nodded his head, "so i gotta' share a bed with you?"

"you got a problem with sleepin' next to me, B?" Jo-Vaughn asked, chuckling, as the two made their way down the hallway and walked into the master bedroom that was across from the kid's bedroom.

"i'd rather sleep on the couch—"

"Bianca, if you think i'm lettin' you sleep on the couch, you must not know who you had a baby by," Jo-Vaughn cut her off as he sat their suitcases on the king-sized bed, "you not 'bout to sleep on that couch when this bed is sittin' right here, you heard? i'on know what typa' man you think i am, but i ain't the typa' man to let his lady sleep on the couch."

a sly smirk crossed Bianca's face at him fussing at her for wanting to sleep on the couch, and butterflies filled her stomach for a second time as she dropped the smirk from her face once she saw Jo-Vaughn look back at her and the two locked eyes while Bianca crossed her arms.

"yes, baby father," Bianca jokingly grouched, playfully rolling her eyes at him, as Jo-Vaughn chuckled at her and Bianca walked out of the room to check on Kamari, "Kamari Jahlil, stop jumpin' on this bed!"

Bianca laughed at seeing Kamari bounce on his bed and he giggled at her fussing at him as he slid off of the bed and walked over to Bianca, holding his arms up and signaling for her to pick him up.

"you wanna go look at the view with Mommy?" Bianca asked, smiling, as she picked him up and sat him on her hip while Kamari nodded his head and the two made their way to the living room.

opening the sliding door to the balcony, the summer breeze gently slapped the two in the face as they stepped onto the balcony, looking out at the clear blue sky and the warm sunlight shining over the sand and ocean across from them.

"it's pretty." Kamari spoke softly in awe, his dark brown eyes watching the sun reflect on the ocean, as Bianca smiled and nodded her head, removing her braids from underneath Kamari's arm and feeling them sway behind her head.

"it really is, papa," Bianca smiled as she heard footsteps behind her and looked over her shoulder, seeing Jo-Vaughn standing in the living room with his phone pointed towards her, "are you recording us?"

"maybe," Jo-Vaughn smiled, playfully winking, as he posted the video to his Instagram story with his song "Fallin'" attached to it and stuffed his phone into his pocket, "y'all ready to go to Disney World or y'all just gon' stand there and look at the view the whole trip?"

"i'm ready!" Kamari exclaimed, smiling, as he jumped down from Bianca's arms and ran over to Jo-Vaughn, making both of the adults laugh while Bianca walked inside and closed and locked the sliding door behind her.

"okay, Spongebob Jr, let's get you to Disney World."

—

"bye, Mickey!" Kamari smiled, waving goodbye to the employee in the Mickey Mouse costume, as the employee waved back to him and Bianca smiled at the sight, holding into his small hand while he clutched three of her fingers since her hand was too big to hold.

not only was the trip to Disney World enjoyable to Kamari, but Bianca and Jo-Vaughn enjoyed themselves as well. the family of three road rides together, took pictures, and even indulged in some of the food they had. despite underestimating how much fun she'd have, Bianca was starting to become grateful she agreed to come on the trip. though it was only for Kamari, she managed to enjoy herself as much as he did, and the smile on her face was almost as big as his.

though Kamari looked like Jo-Vaughn, it was safe to say that he and Bianca shared more mannerisms than he did with his father.

"you enjoyed yourself, papa?" Bianca asked, smiling, as she adjusted the Mickey Mouse ears on his head and the charm bracelet Jo-Vaughn bought for her at the gift shop jingled on her wrist with each movement her hand made.

"yeah! Daddy, can we go back one day?" Kamari smiled widely, looking up at his father, as Jo-Vaughn looked down at him and adjusted the matching Mickey Mouse ears on his head while he smiled at him.

"we can back for ya birthday next year, deal?" Jo-Vaughn offered, raising one of his thin brows, as he lowered his right hand down to him since he was holding onto his left one and held out his pinky finger, making Kamari's smile widen while his dimples poked through his cheeks and he locked his pinky finger with his.

"deal!" Kamari smiled as he and Jo-Vaughn gave each other a high five and Kamari looked up at Bianca while he held his pinky finger up to her, "Mommy, you're coming too, right?"

"of course, 'Mari. i wouldn't miss it for anything in the world." Bianca smiled, lowering her left hand down to him since he was holding onto her right one, as she locked her pinky around his and Kamari giggled in delight, the two sharing a high five while they approached the white Rolls Royce that Francis was sitting in.

"what else you got planned, J?" Bianca asked, averting her attention to her baby father, as she fixed one of her braids underneath her Minnie Mouse ears and Jo-Vaughn looked over at her, causing the two to make eye contact.

"you like boats?" Jo-Vaughn questioned, a small smirk on his face, as Bianca raised her brows and let out a soft chuckle in shock, watching him open the car door for her while Kamari slipped inside the backseat.

"Joey, you didn't." Bianca spoke in disbelief, getting into the seat next to Kamari, as Jo-Vaughn chuckled at her reaction and closed her door, walking over to his side and opening his own.

"i definitely did," Jo-Vaughn smirked, getting inside the vehicle, as he closed the door behind him and gave Kamari his Donald Duck plush while he looked up at Francis in the driver seat, "yo, Francis, you remember that boat dock i was tellin' you about two days ago? i need you to take me there."

"right away, sir."

—

"Jo-Vaughn!" Bianca gasped, her jaw dropping at the sight of the boat, as she looked over at him and noticed a wide smile on his face, "this is... oh, my God, it's so pretty!"

"and before you ask me about the price, i ain't buy it. i rented it for the day," Jo-Vaughn chuckled, holding Kamari in his arms, as the driver of the boat appeared before them and Jo-Vaughn bent down to dap him up, "wassup, bro. Bianca, this my homie Alejandro, he gon' be drivin' the boat for us. Al, this is my baby mama Bianca and our son Kamari."

"ah, so you the girl i hear him talk about often. it's nice to meet you," Alejandro smiled, his Spanish accent heavily audible in his speech, as he shook the woman's hand and looked over at Kamari before holding his hand up to give a high five, "hey, little guy."

"hi," Kamari smiled softly, giving him a high five, as he heard the sound of a dog barking and his eyes lit up, "you have a dog?"

"a baby French Bulldog, to be exact. you wanna see her, buddy?" Alejandro asked, smiling, as Kamari nodded his head and looked at his parents for permission, the both of them nodding their heads while Jo-Vaughn lowered him down onto the boat.

"Mala don't bite, do she?" Jo-Vaughn asked, holding onto Bianca's hand, as Bianca cautiously stepped down from the dock and into the boat.

"nah, she's a sweetheart. i made sure to train her well so she wouldn't attack non-threatening people," Alejandro assured as Jo-Vaughn stepped down into the boat and the sound of dog claws hitting the ground got closer to them, making the four of them look back and see the 2-month-old gray French Bulldog approaching them, "Ms. Bianca and Kamari, this is Mala, my dog."

Kamari smiled at the sight of the dog and approached the animal as Mala sat in front of him and looked up at him, watching him lower his hand down to her head while he pet her. Mala leaned into Kamari's hand and Bianca smiled at the sight as she pulled out her phone and started recording, making sure to get the adorable sight on camera so she could send it to her best friend.

"if you'll excuse me, i'll go start the boat."

—

"so you talk about me, huh?" Bianca asked, smirking, as she looked over at Jo-Vaughn and Jo-Vaughn chuckled, looking over at her while his arm rested behind her.

"it's hard not to talk about a woman that's heaven-sent," Jo-Vaughn chuckled, running his tongue over his lips, as he looked down at the floor of the boat and watched Kamari pet Mala, who was half-asleep in his small lap, "i still talk to my friends and my mama about you."

"Mama Scott still asks about me?" Bianca asked, her eyes lighting up at the mention of her ex-mother-in-law, as Jo-Vaughn looked over at her and nodded his head, a small smile creeping onto his face once he noticed the sparkle in her eyes.

"mhm. she still calls you her daughter-in-law," Jo-Vaughn chuckled, a smile on his face, as Bianca cracked a smile and looked out at the view, "when i told her i wanted to get you back, she told me she believed in me because she knew how much i love you. she told me "a man who truly loves a woman will fight for her", and it made me realize how much i care about you because i haven't given up on us."

Bianca felt butterflies flutter in her stomach for a third time and she looked over at him as the two stared into one another's eyes, their pupils dilating in love while Bianca's smile slightly widened. though she was talking to another man and going on dates with him, nobody could ever compare to Jo-Vaughn, and she knew this. she couldn't love another man as much as she loved him, but she had no shame in trying to see if she could find love in another person.

the men she dated after Jo-Vaughn were sweethearts and so was the one she was talking to now, but with how much time and effort Jo-Vaughn put into pursuing her, it seemed as if trying to date other men was practically a waste of time.

without either of them realizing it, their faces had gotten closer to one another's, causing Bianca's breathing to slightly speed up, and before the two could share a kiss, Jo-Vaughn moved his face back from hers, a small smirk on his face while he watched her mindlessly squeeze her thighs together.

"this motherfucker here." Bianca thought, feeling a pulse between her legs, as she wiped her sweaty palms on her romper and watched the man look out at the view.

"the view's nice, ain't it?" Jo-Vaughn complimented, changing the topic, as Bianca slyly pulled out her phone and opened her camera.

"it really is," Bianca added, glancing up at the scenery, as she raised her phone, "pose for me real quick."

looking back at her, Jo-Vaughn noticed the phone in her hands and he chuckled as he posed, making Bianca smile while she took the picture and went to her camera roll to see how it turned out.

"ooh, who that is? he look like he the man." Jo-Vaughn joked, a playful grin on his face, as he looked at the photo and Bianca laughed while she shook her head at him.

"don't get cocky, Joey."

—

"can i have a dog like Mr. Al?" Kamari asked, looking up at his parents, as the adults chuckled and Jo-Vaughn unlocked the door to the hotel room, opening the door and letting Kamari and Bianca walk in first while he walked in behind him.

"if you're good, i might buy you one for Christmas," Jo-Vaughn chuckled, closing the door behind him, as he watched Kamari walk down the hallway and Bianca walk over to the couch, "don't neither of y'all get too comfortable 'cause we leavin' in a minute."

"leaving? where we goin'?" Bianca asked, her brows furrowing, as Kamari peeked around the corner and looked at his father in slight confusion mixed with excitement.

"we gotta' eat, right? so i'm takin' y'all to The Palm." Jo-Vaughn smiled as Bianca's face dropped and her brows raised while Kamari's little brows furrowed and he looked between his parents.

"what's The Palm?" Kamari asked, leaning against the wall, as Bianca looked over at him.

"it's a fancy restaurant, papa," Bianca answered as she turned her attention back to Jo-Vaughn, "and it's extremely expensive. you don't listen to me at all when i tell you not to spend so much money, do you?"

"it's for a good cause, ain't it?" Jo-Vaughn asked, raising his brows, as Bianca playfully rolled her eyes at him and Jo-Vaughn chuckled at her, "now you and K go get dressed."

"Joey, i didn't pack anything that would fit the atmosphere of a fancy restaurant—"

"who said anything about what you packed?" Jo-Vaughn asked, a small smirk on his face, as Bianca's brows furrowed in confusion and Jo-Vaughn's smirk widened at the sight, "go look on the bed in our bedroom, B."

Bianca stepped away from the couch and made her way down the short hallway with Kamari by her side and Jo-Vaughn walking behind her as she walked into the bedroom and saw three dry-cleaners bags on the bed, a shoebox on top of each bag and making a wide smile cross Bianca's face while she looked back at Jo-Vaughn.

"what's all this?" Bianca asked, smiling, as Kamari walked over to the bed and ran his tiny fingers on the small bag of clothing, lightly tilting his head at it to see if he could make out what was in the bag.

"i had Francis go pick up some clothes and shoes for me while we was on the boat. while you and K walked down the dock, i was talking to him about restaurants i could take y'all to and he told me about The Palm. as you could tell by the three bags and boxes, i ain't pack no appropriate clothes for a fancy restaurant either," Jo-Vaughn explained, chuckling, as Bianca approached the bed and her eyes lit up once she realized the bag in the middle had a dress in it, "the first one's mine, the second one's yours, and the third one's KJ's."

"now, for the second time, get dressed." Jo-Vaughn playfully smirked, raising his brow, as Bianca and Kamari looked at each other before looking over at Jo-Vaughn.

"yes, sir!"

—

"...it takes time to look this good and you rushin' me?" Bianca exclaimed from the bathroom, adjusting her ponytail, as she pushed up her breasts in her dress and made sure her areolas and nipples were covered and not slipping out, hearing footsteps approach the bathroom door and immediately recognizing whose they were.

though Bianca was slightly taken aback by Jo-Vaughn remembering what size she wore in clothes and heels, she couldn't lie and say that he didn't have good taste. he knew what looked good on her, and it was evident due to the dress he had Francis purchase.

"girl, if you don't—" Jo-Vaughn cut himself off once he saw her and a smile crept onto his face as he analyzed her from head to toe and licked his lips at the sight of her, "i knew you'd look good in that dress."

"i'm surprised you still remember what size i wear." Bianca chuckled, adjusting the silver 'B' necklace around her neck, as she picked up her silver hoops and put them in her ears, her eyes landing on Jo-Vaughn through the mirror while she slightly smirked at seeing him be memorized by her appearance.

"i remember everything about you, B." Jo-Vaughn admitted, admiration shining in his tone, as Bianca's heart fluttered from his words and she looked away from his reflection in the mirror, looking back at herself and watching a big grin spread across her face.

"you do?" Bianca asked, grinning, as Jo-Vaughn looked at her through the mirror and nodded his head, "so, you remember how i reacted when you told me that "Love Is Only a Feeling" was about me?"

"man," Jo-Vaughn laughed, shaking his head, as Bianca laughed and turned to face him, "you cried like a baby when i sang that shit to you. i ain't know whether to keep singin' or hold you."

"and you did both. i still remember that moment," Bianca smiled, chuckling, as Jo-Vaughn smiled at her and Bianca soon started blushing, making her break their eye contact while she turned off the bathroom and grabbed Jo-Vaughn's hand, "now c'mon and let's go eat. i know K's probably hungry as hell sitting in the living room in his lil' tuxedo."

—

"you put 'Mari to sleep?" Bianca asked, walking out of the bathroom, as Jo-Vaughn stood by his side of the bed and put his phone on the charger, laying it on the bedside table while he looked up at her.

"yeah, i just laid him down. after he went to sleep, i took a shower in the other bathroom so i wouldn't bother you," Jo-Vaughn explained as his eyes scanned her attire before locking on her oversized shirt, "you still sleep in my shirts?"

"i never stopped. you left some of your shirts at my house, so i kept wearing 'em." Bianca chuckled, earning a smile from Jo-Vaughn, as she walked over to her side of the bed and grabbed her phone changer from her bedside table, plugging her phone up and sitting it down.

though Bianca scolded Jo-Vaughn about how much money he's spent, dinner was probably her favorite part of their eventful day. the family of three conversed, ate, and still managed to have smiles on their faces. after they ate, Kamari had gotten sleepy, and he ended up falling asleep in the car on the way back to the hotel, which resulted in Jo-Vaughn carrying him up to the room and giving him a bath before putting him to bed.

Bianca's bath had left her relaxed and refreshed, and all she could think about was crawling into bed and heading straight to sleep, but with Jo-Vaughn around, she knew it wouldn't be that easy.

"i remember one time i came home from tour and saw you wrapped up in one of my hoodies." Jo-Vaughn chuckled, smiling, as Bianca laughed and walked over to the vanity near Jo-Vaughn's side of the room, sitting down on the cushioned chair in front of the mirror while she grabbed her head scarf.

"i was lonely and it smelled like you, okay? don't bully me for that." Bianca laughed, wrapping her scarf around her scalp, as Jo-Vaughn chuckled and walked towards the end of the bed, sitting down on it while he looked at her with love in his eyes.

"i miss you, girl." Jo-Vaughn spoke with an unintelligible tone in his voice, a small smile on resting his face, as Bianca looked at him through the mirror she was sitting in front of and ran her fingers through her braids.

"how can you miss me when i'm right here?—"

"nah, B, i'm talking 'bout when we was together. i miss us. i miss how shit used to be. i know we ended on good terms, but sometimes i can't help but to think about what would've happened to us if we didn't grow apart. you would've probably been my wife by now," Jo-Vaughn admitted as Bianca's eyes broke his eye contact and looked down at her lap, "i miss hearin' you call me all them cute nicknames. i miss kissin' you, holdin' you, spendin' time with you... i miss being with you, B. not being with you feels like a part of me is gone and there's a void in my heart. you're the missin' piece of my puzzle piece, girl. without you, i'll always remain incomplete."

"Jo-Vaughn..." Bianca spoke softly, searching for words to form a proper response, as she looked up at him through her mirror for the second time, letting her eyes tell the story her mouth couldn't say.

"i know you miss me too, B. you been frontin' for too long and i can see through all'at shit," Jo-Vaughn added, standing up from the bed, as he walked closer to Bianca and stood beside her, "but there's one thing standin' in my way of gettin' to you, and i know you know what it is."

Bianca parted her lips to speak but no words exited her mouth as she looked up at Jo-Vaughn, confusion filling her mind before it abruptly clicked that he was talking about Malcolm. Bianca's mouth shut at the realization and she swallowed the lump growing in her throat as she watched Jo-Vaughn's demeanor change and she wiped her now sweaty palms on her thighs.

"h...how do you know about him?" Bianca asked, her voice as low as a whisper, as Jo-Vaughn chuckled and cupped her face in his hand, rubbing her cheek with his thumb while he leaned down to her.

"you think Kamari not gon' tell me 'bout the nigga you been bringin' around him?" Jo-Vaughn questioned, raising a brow, as goosebumps spread across Bianca's body and her throat became dry, "you forgot that you mines, mama? hm? or do i gotta' remind you?"

Bianca gently gripped her knees to keep herself poised and her breathing turned irregular as she looked up at her baby father and swallowed the second lump growing in her throat before parting her lips to speak, "...remind me."

—

Bianca's eyes rolled back as the bed rocked underneath her, a pillow wedged between the headboard and the wall to keep from making too much noise. Jo-Vaughn's hand rested on her mouth to silence her loud noises and the arch in her back deepened at feeling him roughly smack her ass, making her whimper in his palm while he grabbed a handful of her braids and pulled her back to his chest.

"you been frontin' all day, baby. now look at you. being a good girl and takin' this dick how you 'posed to," Jo-Vaughn cooed, a small smirk on his face, as he let go of her hair and rested his hand on one of her breasts, teasing and tugging at her nipple while he kissed her earlobe, "you missed me, pretty?"

"y-yes! oh, God, baby, don't stop!" Bianca whimpered against his palm, gently wrapping her hand around his wrist, as she rested her other hand on top of the one on her breast and her brows furrowed while her nipples hardened against Jo-Vaughn's touch.

who would've known that this would've been the end result of their first day on their family trip? Jo-Vaughn might've known and Nia knew off the bat, but Bianca? poor Bianca was clueless about what was to come later on.

"youn' know how bad i been missin' you, B. how much i craved havin' you like this again. i missed hearin' you call out for me and moan my name while i gave you this dick like my life depended on it. i missed feelin' you hold on to me as tight as you could because i was overstimulatin' you and you couldn't take it. i missed watchin' those tears roll down your face as i hit that spot," Jo-Vaughn spoke explicitly in her ear, kissing her earlobe, as he sneakily slid deeper and Bianca let out a squeal against his hand, "hearin' you say my name gives me the best ego boost of my fuckin' life, mama. the way you moan it, whimper it, whine it, cry it out, drag it out... the way it rolls off your tongue could make a nigga buss right then and there."

"Jo-Vaughnnnn..." Bianca whined, her hips slightly bucking at feeling him thrust from a different angle, as she gently squeezed his wrist, "you m-make me feel so g-good, Daddy..."

"just like that, baby. say my name just like that. you look so pretty when you say that shit," Jo-Vaughn groaned in her ear, lightly tugging at her earlobe with his teeth, as the speed of Jo-Vaughn's strokes sped up and Bianca's eyes rolled back for a second time, "you got me hooked on you, girl. and you think i'm gon' let another nigga experience this? you got me fucked up, B."

"can't no other nigga make you feel the way i make you feel, and you know that. so for you to prance around with all these niggas on ya arm like they could even top me is some fuckin' bullshit, yo," Jo-Vaughn growled, removing his hand from her mouth, as he wrapped his hand around her neck and roughly squeezed the sides of it, "they can't make you cum like i can, make you moan like i can, make you run from the dick like i can, make you squirm like i can, make you cream like i can... shit, them niggas can't even eat this pussy like i can, baby. can't none of these muh'fuckas' compare to me, and you know that, shorty."

"you let them niggas in my pussy? huh?" Jo-Vaughn asked, his tone aggressive, as he turned her head towards him, "and look at me when i'm fuckin' talkin' to you, shorty. show me those pretty brown eyes."

"n-no, Daddy, i swearrrr! i-i swear, i didn't give 'em yo' pussy," Bianca whimpered, her submissive gaze locking with his dominant one, as she bit down on her bottom lip to suppress her moans and she felt herself become wetter from his possessiveness, making a feeble whimper come from her lips while her eyes fluttered a bit, "i-i was keepin' it t-tight for you, baby..."

"aw, you kept it tight for me, princess?" Jo-Vaughn smiled sadistically, shoving his inches deeper inside of her walls, as Bianca's jaw dropped and no sound exited her mouth while she vigorously nodded her head in response, "you ain't let ya old niggas hit? not even ole' dude you with now? — and you know exactly who i'm talkin' 'bout, so don't play crazy. i'm glad he ain't get to experience it... shit, he wouldn't be able to handle all this good ass pussy even if you offered it to him."

"well guess what, B? i'm comin' back for good, so let that nigga know all this shit mine," Jo-Vaughn growled, smacking her ass and leaving a red handprint behind, as Bianca felt his tip aggressively smash into her g-spot and she gasped, her grip suddenly tightening on him while her brows furrowed, "make any type of loud ass noise and i promise you i'll leave you here wet and horny without a single orgasm."

Bianca quickly covered her mouth and her eyes rolled back as her inner thighs began tingling, pleasure coursing through her veins while she felt herself slowly being pushed into overstimulation. tears pricked at her eyes and muffled moans and cries fell from her covered mouth as her headscarf slipped off her head and onto the bed, making her quickly grab it and toss it on the floor so it wouldn't be covered in her juices.

"babyyyy," Bianca whined, her brows furrowing, as she rested her hand on Jo-Vaughn's toned lower abdomen and attempted to push him away, "i-i can't—"

"mm-mm, move yo' hand, baby. you know you can handle this dick, c'mon now. look at how good you creamin' around it, princess, and you tellin' me you can't take it?" Jo-Vaughn questioned, a smirk on his face, as he raised his brow at the woman and watched her slowly retreat her hand from his stomach, making his smirk widen while he watched her body temple, "there you go, mama, look at you. takin' this dick like a big girl. i knew you could do it, you takin' all of it so good."

"it's s-so muchhh," Bianca cried, tears slipping down her cheeks, as a sadistic smile found its way onto Jo-Vaughn's face for a second time and he lightly tilted his head at her, "y-you hittin' my spot, Daddyyy..."

"i wish you could see how pretty you look right now. tears rollin' down ya face, hand coverin' ya mouth, eyes unfocusin' and rollin' back... you look so fuckin' good with that fucked-out look on ya face, mama," Jo-Vaughn cooed, biting down on his bottom lip, as Bianca's legs began to tremble and her cream and wetness began coating her inner thighs due to how rapidly it was oozing out of her, "i'm the luckiest muh'fucka' ever, mama. as long as i got you, i'll be the happiest nigga on the plant. this fame and fortune don't mean shit to me if i ain't got you to share it with. you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Bianca. and i'll be damned if i gotta' stand by and watch another nigga experience the way you make me feel. i love you too much to let that shit just ride past me."

"i-i love you so much more, Jo-Vaughn," Bianca moaned, both of her hands now covering her mouth due to how much intense pleasure was hitting her at once, as her eyes rolled back for the millionth time and she tossed her head back onto Jo-Vaughn's broad shoulder, "o-oh, my God, i'm 'bout to cum!"

"tell me you mines and i'll let you cum. c'mon, let me hear those words leave those pretty lips," Jo-Vaughn cooed, kissing up and down her neck, as Bianca roughly bit down on her lip to suppress the loud moan that wanted to exit her mouth and her grip tightened on her face, "if i don't hear you say it, don't even think about bussin', pretty."

"i'm yours! yours, yours, yourssss! please, please, please let me cum! i can't hold it anymore!" Bianca cried loudly, her loudness being muffled by her hands, as tears streamed down her face at a quicker rate and she sobbed into her hands, her orgasm practically screaming to be released.

"cum for me, princess. let it alll out on yo' dick. gimme all that good shit." Jo-Vaughn's words made Bianca's knees buckle, and she leaned onto him for support as sounds of her gushiness sounded out into the bedroom and her jaw dropped, her eyes rolling back and her back arching deeply while her climax hit her like a freight train. a squeal fell from her lips as she came, her walls clenching and unclenching around Jo-Vaughn's phallus and earning groans from him as it did so.

her body tensed up and her bottom lip retreated between her teeth as she bit down on it so hard that it nearly bled, her chest heaving up and down at an irregular pace while Jo-Vaughn's deep strokes began slowing down. he placed kisses on her neck, ear, and the side of her face as he stroked her through her orgasm, his grip loosening on her neck while he caressed her breasts. removing her hands from her mouth, Bianca let out a soft and heavy sigh and her body relaxed as her vision corrected itself while she stared at the ceiling, letting everything that happened marinate in her mind while she breathed in through her nose and out through her parted lips.

"you know i love you, don't you?" Jo-Vaughn mumbled against her neck, making Bianca smile, as Bianca chuckled and ran her tongue over her lips, letting go of his wrist and wrapping her arm around his neck while she rubbed the nape of his neck.

"I know, baby, I know. I love you too."

[seulblade]

Past Midnight

this is my first work lol take it easy on me 🫣

wc//: 1131 😮‍💨

cw//: smut, fingering, oral, nipple play, squirting

insomnia is a bitch.

it’s something you’ve been dealing with for a few years now, and even after all the doctors visits and brown noise youtube videos you’re still suffering from it’s effects. unable to stay awake at your job, you were fired a few weeks ago, which didn’t surprise you but was still a hassle nonetheless. now all you had to your name was two months left on your lease, half a box of cold pizza in the fridge, and a phone full of useless contacts.

well…mostly useless.

you thought about her again. your kryptonite. the woman who made your knees go weak at just the sound of her voice. yoo jeongyeon. your one time girlfriend and current ex-girlfriend. yeah, ex-girlfriend. the breakup was amicable, you two just kinda fell out of love after a while. the sex was amazing (so fucking amazing) but the compatibility just wasn’t on the same level. it took some getting used to, not having her around. but you were strong. you could manage.

“you up?”

good job. you just texted your ex-gf at almost 2 o’clock in the damn morning just for what? emotional support? it couldn’t be because you missed her touch. missed her silky-sweet voice. missed the way she..

“yeah. what’s up?” she replied.

fuck. okay you didn’t think this far ahead. what do you reply? surely you’ve got something up your sleeve.

“i need you.”

yeah…that works. you pace back and forth in your apartment, hoping she’d get there quickly. you didn’t even bother dressing up for the occasion, thinking she’d just accept you as you were. messy bun, oversized t-shirt and a pair of silk panties shouldn’t be too bad. the bunny slippers were a nice, homely touch. the pacing began to slow when you read her latest text to you;

“buzz me in.”

it didn’t take you long to press the button letting her into the apartment building, and after a quick elevator ride…there she was. at your door after all these months. you could feel your stomach flutter and your heart pound in your chest. your palms were damp from nerves and so were your panties. you hadn’t prepped for this but you were ready.

“hey, beautiful. miss me?” she asked with a sly grin.

jeongyeon was still the same, even after months of being away. her shoulder length black hair draped around her face gently, highlighting her soft features. her lips were full and plump, the part of her face you loved the most. just begging to be kissed.

and kissed they were. your lips met, all the tension in the room sweltering and coming to a boiling point. your knees almost gave out on you, but jeongyeon’s strong grip held you firm in place. she pulled you even closer, allowing you to share in her warmth. you couldn’t even tell she was dragging you towards the couch, your tongues battling for supremacy. wet, passionate kisses echoed through the living room, a few moans breaking the bout.

she laid you down on the couch, positioning herself right in front of you. her kisses were soft, dragging her lips and even some tongue across your neck and under your ear. you could feel your skin tingle and the goosebumps spread. complete control, that’s what she had over you. you felt yourself grow more and more aroused by the second, her soft hands lightly caressing your ass and thighs.

jeongyeon reached down, gripping your panties in a handful. “these have to go.”

in one swift motion, she tore the drenched garment away, unveiling your glistening pussy. the strings of wetness trailed along with it, showing jeongyeon just how much you missed her. she smiled up at you, her eyes narrowed and playful like a mischievous cat. and just like a cat, she lurched down towards your folds, licking and lapping away. your moans and whimpers just drove her to go even harder, spreading her saliva all over your clit as she licked and sucked away. her eyes never left yours the entire time, she wanted to take your soul.

her fingers creeped up onto your chest, softly twisting and pinching your nipples. she placed her fingers into your warmth, covering them in your juices, only to then allow you to taste yourself. she went back to working your nipples only more aggressively. tugging and pinching, the sensory overload began to overwhelm your senses. at this point you weren’t even moaning, you were just full blown screaming her name. jeongyeon, jeongyeon, jeongyeon. her name echoed in your head, rippled across the goosebumps on your skin, and surely burned itself in your neighbors minds. you could feel the fire in your belly just grow, expanding until you couldn’t contain it any longer. you needed release.

jeongyeon’s other hand began working your pussy ever so gently. her mouth suckled your clit but her fingers slowly worked in and out of you, soaked with your desire. she smirked as she felt you drip all over her hand. she was only using one finger but she figured you could take three. with one motion she stuffed you full, feeling you squirm from how good it felt. her eyes never left yours. you could feel the depths of her love for you piercing your gaze, the warmth from your belly spreading to your chest. you clenched around her fingers as she fucked you, a constant motion in and out.

“fuck baby, please!” you cried out. “please make me cum.”

jeongyeon knew she had you. she placed her tongue right at your entrance, tongue fucking you while she rubbed your clit with the hand she fucked you with. her finger then snaked its way inside of you, softly nudging against your g-spot. switching her mouth onto your clit whilst rubbing you to ecstasy, you could feel it building up. you could feel yourself reaching the breaking point. like a crack in a dam, you were so close to bursting.

your back arched into the sky, your body tensing up as you released all the fire building inside you. well, it felt like fire to you. for her mouth, it was more like water. pushing out of you was a wave, squirting all over her pretty face. she slurped it all up with a smile, kissing your thighs while you rode your high.

“fuck.” you said softly.

it had been so damned long since you squirted, but yoo jeongyeon was able to bring that side of you to the forefront. something about this powerful woman just made you melt into her slut again. nothing could be better. as she drew you into her arms, cuddling you into the night, your mind wandered back to the moment you sent that text as you drifted asleep.

good job indeed.

[sadiegirl2021]

Silly little one shot for @gwynrielweeksofficial - Day 2: Compatible (loose interpretation)

Soul Meets Body on Ao3

“I don’t care how good-looking he is, Nesta! I’m not letting you set me up on a blind date.”

“Gwyn! Please!! This guy is your soulmate. He loves all the same books as you, he goes to the gym, he’s got a coffee addiction! You’re basically the girl version of him.”

“So! Blind dates are weird. You know how shy I can get…”

“He’s shy too!”

“Oh, wonderful! Really selling it. So we’ll just sit there, and not talk at all during dinner?”

“Talk about books!”

“Bye, Nesta!”

“Wait–”

Gwyn hung up the phone. She was sick of this. Why couldn’t her friends just accept that she didn’t want a boyfriend right now? College was crazy enough without adding love or sex on top. She needed to stay focused and certainly had no room to entertain Nesta’s blind date idea.

“So stupid,” she mumbled to herself, reaching for a bag of apples at the supermarket.

“What did you call me?”

Gwyn looked up and felt her jaw comically fall to the floor as she gazed at the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Raven-black hair, golden eyes, and tall… so freaking tall!

“Oh… no… I wasn’t–”

He smiled, and her heart skipped a beat. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

Gwyn didn’t dare speak again, for fear it would be an incoherent jumble of words. This was what she was talking about with Nesta. Whenever she started talking to a cute guy, she froze like this! Her mind raced with funny and interesting things to say, but her mouth decided to keep shut. She just smiled at him.

“.... those are good apples,” he said, shifting a little awkwardly. Gwyn would have expected someone of his stature to radiate confidence.

“Yeah… they’re my favourite.” Gods, so smart, Gwyn!

“Me too… I like oranges as well.”

“Same.”

Was this possibly the worst conversation she’d ever had?

He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Do you come here often?”

Oh my god. Was he… flirting with her?

Gwyn let out a little chuckle, “Oh yeah, the supermarket is where it’s at. Haven’t you heard?” Better!

He laughed, and damn if it wasn’t giving her crazy butterflies.

“I’m Azriel,” he said smoothly, seeming to relax more in her presence.

“Gwyn,” she replied with a slight flush on her cheeks.

“Gwyn,” he whispered like an answer to a question. “I don’t normally do this… I mean I never do this… but do you want to grab dinner tonight?”

“Like a date?”

“Yeah… I mean, cool if not… I just–”

“Yes! I’d love to.”

He seemed to sigh in relief, “That’s great! Amazing… can I grab your number, and I’ll text you the details?”

She nodded, “Of course!” Oh my god, how did she pull this off? He was the hottest guy she’d ever met, and he just asked her out!

They gleefully exchanged numbers, exchanged a few more awkward observations of the fruit around them, and went their separate ways.

Gwyn practically floated home, dying to rummage through her wardrobe for the perfect outfit. Nesta was going to kill her… but blind dates were stupid! At least she knew she was attracted to Azriel.

______________________

Gwyn had opted for a short, sapphire-blue, body-con dress with silver strappy heels and no jacket. It was the height of summer… plus she looked way too hot to cover up.

“I can’t believe you’re going out with some rando over the guy I picked for you!” Nesta huffed from the couch.

Gwyn finished putting on her cherry-red lipstick and rolled her eyes at Nesta’s statement.

“Cassian is going to be pissed. You’re turning down his best friend for some stranger.”

“You know, I haven’t even met Cassian yet! So why would I want to date his best friend? Are you even dating Cassian?”

“Don’t judge our… situation! It’s complicated.”

“Because you’re in love with him?”

“He wishes!” Nesta laughed with an air of ‘yes, I love him so much it’s killing me, but I don’t know how to handle emotions.”

*Buzz Buzz*

“That’s him! Can you please get it? I need to grab my bag.”

It was Nesta’s turn to roll her eyes as she threw off her snuggly blanket and made her way to the door. As she opened it, she quipped, “You better not be some serial killer–Oh my god, Azriel!?”

“Nesta… hey! Do–Do you live here?”

She nodded in confirmation. “You’re Gwyn’s date for tonight?”

“Yeah, we met at the supermarket earlier. Hey, Cassian was in a foul mood today. What happened with you two last night?”

Nesta scowled at the mere mention of his name, and Azriel flinched, not expecting an answer.

“Hey, Azriel,” Gwyn chirped as she left her bedroom.

Azriel’s hand flew to his chest, as if someone had shot him with a cupid's arrow. “Wow! Gwyn… you look–”

Gwyn couldn’t even let him finish; she hated compliments, “So do you! Shall we go?” she asked, moving to the door. Nesta had the strangest look on her face, and a sly grin that was a little frightening. Gwyn gave her a ‘what the fuck’ look in exchange.

Azriel seemed to notice their interactions. “I’ll give you a minute.” He backed away into the hall to wait for her.

“What?” Gwyn exclaimed.

“That’s the guy!!”

“What guy?”

“The blind date guy… Cassian’s friend!”

“Are you serious?”

Nesta nodded with a huge grin.

Gwyn could only laugh. “Well… I still think blind dates are stupid!”

Nesta smirked, “So destiny intervened! Have a great night with your soulmate!”

“Shut up!”

Gwyn caught up with Azriel. He looked so sleek in his pressed black trousers and crisp white shirt, with a couple of buttons open to show a thick silver chain. If this was indeed her soulmate, she had some serious praying to the gods to do in thanks.