#Dont ask me what universe this is set in

[piratefishmama]

14!

Writing Prompts | No longer accepting new prompts

“Excuse me?” Steve, who’d been quietly minding his own business in the corner with his frankly pathetic little lunch, was absolutely certain he’d misheard the boy.

“I said, I know you’re the president of the Anti-Social Club, but why don’t you join me?” Nope, definitely didn’t mishear him.

“I’m not the president of the antisocial club, what the hell dude?”

“Could’a fooled me, man! All on your lonesome over here… I know camp ain’t exactly the best place in the world if all your friends are off on… I dunno, ski trips in the Alps or some shit while you’re stuck here, but… you don’t have to be on your own, y’know?” Steve regarded the other boy with narrowed eyes.

He knew this boy.

Year above him at Hawkins Middle, hadn’t been there for very long, maybe a year or so, the buzzcut he’d had that first year was starting to grow out into little dark curls. Still looked like he could do with a proper meal though. Munford? No. Monsoon? Pfft what? That’d be too cool a name, Minsun? Nooo… Munson!! “I don’t need your pity, Munson, m’fine…” Munson raised his brows in surprise, not at the idea that he was fine, probably that he knew his last name. “So what if my friends aren’t here, I’m still fine…” His parents were spending the first few weeks of the school summer holidays in California, back-to-back business meetings for some big merger his fathers firm was going through, his mother working alongside his father as one of the key lawyers on the project. “M’not anti-social”

No holiday for Steve, at least not yet. He’d have a few weeks of summer camp at some random little dump in the middle of the woods, and then they’d be back to pick him up for a real holiday, he was sure they’d be back. He only had to suffer another couple of weeks on his own. No big deal.

“Uh-huh… see, I’d believe you, I really would, cause normally you’re surrounded by your little hoard of groupies, but… you’ve been here for like, a week now? And not one friend made! Even Robin tried to talk to you, you blew her off! That was super rude, man, she’s great.” Bit young, bit hyperactive, but she kicked ass on the trumpet.

“…Who’s Robin?”

“Sweet cheesus on toast, okay. Uh… see that girl over there, long brown-ish hair? Band-aid on her knee? That’s Robin. She tried to ask you what your favourite bug was the other day, and you just ignored her.”

He honestly hadn’t heard her, his hearing had never been the best but… what kind of question was that? “Who has a favourite bug?”

“Robin does, it’s a ladybeetle.” Robin had once followed up with the seemingly automatic follow-on comment ‘cause ladies are great’ before realising she’d said too much and froze. She’d only relaxed when nobody had questioned it. Only relaxed when Eddie had swiftly moved the conversation on to what everyone’s favourite leaf shape was.

His was a maple leaf. Cause how did leaves just do shapes like that? Most were rounded with only one main ‘point’, and then you have a big ol maple leaf just HI THERE I LOOK LIKE I BELONG ON A DRUID’S STAFF AND NOWHERE ELSE. Like it could be the base of a coat of arms for a great forest dwelling elven family, or the shape of a forest dragons footprint.

That inevitably went on to the kids designing cool forest dragons and everything was right with the world.

“I think you mean ladybug.”

“Do I?” Munson smiled at him, as if he knew something Steve didn’t, it irritated him a little, how easily this kid seemed to talk down to him. Nobody talked down to him besides the adults, and they were adults so… he had to take that.

“Shut up, go away. I don’t care about dumb bugs” The smile dropped, replaced with something that else that Steve didn’t think he liked, a flash of sadness, no… no, that expression didn’t look right on Munson’s face and Steve didn’t know why.

The dimpled smile suited him more.

“Okay well… if you do feel like abdicating your position of president of the antisocial club, then… y’know… we’re all over there, plotting out our attack on the end of camp scavenger hunt. You’d be welcome to join us.” Scavenger hunt? Steve figured his face probably gave away some kind of interest, because Munson lingered just a little longer, instead of retreating back to his little gaggle of nerds “You… you’ve never been here before, so uhm… I suppose you probably wouldn’t know, every year, at the end of summer camp, the counsellors put on this massive scavenger hunt, it spans the whole camp grounds and a little ways into the forest too, but the prize is different every year, and you get a cool trophy if your team wins… you could be on our team, if you wanted?”

“…I won’t be here for long enough, parents are picking me up before the end of camp.” Why did that sound fun though? Why did his voice sound disappointed? He wanted out of that stupid camp! Everything was dirty, and smelly, and he didn’t know anyone, it was boring but the one cool thing he’d heard about, he wouldn’t even be there to join.

“Oh… well… you could still help us plan right? We can do a run of the areas, find any potential hiding spots, it could be fun! Way more fun than hiding out here picking at grass!”

He could. He could have, could have gotten up from his spot and joined the little gaggle of nerds for their nerd games, he’d have been the weird one in a group for once, but… they probably wouldn’t have held it against him, he could have played with them but… what was the point?

“No, I’m okay. I’ll pass.” Munson hesitated again, chewing his bottom lip in thought, before nodding and taking a step backwards.

“Okay, well… if you change your mind, man… being president of one is kinda like a president of none, an you could be my co-president in Team ‘Scoob’ which… y’know… it’s a huge honour! But if you’re sure…” Scoob? Probably Scooby Doo, Steve’s brain supplied.

“…Co-president?”

“Yepperoo, you’re welcome to coooomeee~ You can be the Fred to my Daphne!” Steve raised a brow in curiosity “y’know, cause… I’m growing my hair out and you’re—y’know” Eddie motioned to all of him, he didn’t know.

But it made him feel a little warm to think about it.

He really could go with him… Munson wasn’t just giving up on him, wasn’t just letting him be by himself, was giving him an opportunity to make friends and well… even if he wasn’t going to be there until the end… he could do with some friends to make the time pass quicker. “…Ugh, fine. But if it’s boring then I’m ditching you! Help me up.”

“Haha! Fine, fine, Mr President! Nothing but fun times to be had!! C’mon I’ll introduce you to everyone! My names Eddie by the way, not Munson.” Eddies hand was warm as it wrapped around his, his pull gentle but enough to get Steve onto his feet.

“Steve… not president.”

‘Eddie’ snorted a laugh, following with “I know Stevie” Stevie… he liked Stevie “you’re like, famous in school” as he walked him back to the group. Not having let go of his hand.

So at least when his parents sent word two weeks later that actually, they’d be staying in California due to some mix-up with the merger that was taking far longer than anticipated, at least when he’d been told he’d be staying for the entirety of camp, he had… friends.

He had people.

He had Robin, who rambled about bugs, and stars and—and anything really, the girl honestly couldn’t stop herself from rambling sometimes, it was cute, even if a little annoying sometimes.

He had Eddie who hugged him when he’d caught him silently shedding tears in the camp cabin because he’d known they wouldn’t be there he just hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself, then promptly revealed a ferret called Samwise that he’d been hiding god only knows where for a whole three weeks.

Eddie, who didn’t give up on befriending him, who held his hand more often than not, who partnered with him on little arts and crafts group projects and silly team exercises, who made him feel all weird inside in a way Steve didn’t understand but he liked enough to feel excitement over what it could be. He'd always have the little kiss on the cheek Eddie had nervously given him behind their cabin the night before their last day after mumbling a soft little prayer to some unknown god called 'Ozzy' that he was reading the signs right. He was.

Steve would always have that summer and everything that came with it.

And, of course, he'd always have shared custody of their little winners trophy, because in what universe could anyone beat Team Scoob in a scavenger hunt?

[trashbaget]

tell me your failed/embarrassing flirting stories to make me feel better, i’ll go first: today i said “get out of my way” forgot to say “i’m kidding” then immediately said “bye”

[frobby]

boy son and girl daughter are the only characters who matter in kaiju no.8

[phantastragoria]

Not sure if it's okay to send you this ask but I actually feel the same way you do about the end of vol 3 and I've been feeling pretty alone about it. I haven't said much because I don't want to seem like I'm being mean about the movie. I think my issue is the team hasn't spent years and years together. Most of them were snapped for 5 years. When they came back Gamora was dead and then Peter was clearly left suffering and dealing with the trauma for a while. I can live with the idea of "we've all grown to need time apart and want to do our own things" but I don't think the build up and execution was there. Not just for those on the team but also 2014 Gamora who was literally just coming back to the story and finally getting to see who these people were and what her life was once about. Then it's over and it doesn't feel like enough of a resolution. I also don't love how Gamora was treated which is a whole other topic but I disliked how it seems like there hasn't been any issue with her death for anyone but Peter. There doesn't even seem to be any memories of her lingering with the team. I have so many thoughts around this that I'll be thinking about it for a while but man, she was murdered by her abuser and most of her family are victims of abuse and I dont think the aftermath has been handled very well at all. Mostly I think there needed to be another movie In between Endgame and vol 3 to hash out what happened in Infinity War/Endgame and to progress some of the characters more and build up to the more Rocket focused ending where they all part ways. Or vol 3 needed to not be quite as focused on Rocket. Not saying he shouldn't have the most focus, just scale it back a little because other things desperately needed attention.

Oh it's absolutely fine to send an ask about this!!! I'm always up for a discussion, and honestly, it makes me feel better that I'm not the only person not completely happy with the ending, solidarity my friend.

I want to preface this all with I DON'T hate the film, and I thought it was way better on a 2nd viewing, but I really don't think it's a crime to criticize it because nothing is perfect (Vol. 1 + 2 aren't either) But Vol. 3 really has some deeply ingrained issues that should've been dealt with, or at the very least acknowledged, because as it is they really stand out, especially on a second viewing or if you've marathoned all the films together, and they literally drag the film down.

Gunn said on Twitter in response to something that he wanted Vol. 3 to be able to stand on its own without the viewer needing to have seen the other films (and by extension IW+EG) but that is so unhinged when it's literally titled as the third in the series at this point lol. Like it's extremely weird to have let IW+EG affect the Guardians as much as they did and then not even try and deal with the aftermath of it all in the last film featuring (almost) everyone together... ???

He's made it clear Rocket is his favorite and that he only came back to do Vol. 3 because he wanted to finish his story, I don't doubt that's true even if I think having a single character be more important than the others is the wrong choice and leaves the whole story as a trilogy a bit lopsided. But even so, if that's the case then it's crazy to not even have Rocket's thoughts on all of these things that've happened in the last decade as if it wouldn't be traumatic to lose your loved ones for years, and how hard it would be to readjust to life after it all. I kind of can't see him letting everyone leave so easily at the very end, especially after he almost died, so I'm just left feeling confused at the choice at best and vaguely unsatisfied at worst.

Maybe Gunn didn't have as much control over their appearances in IW+EG as he says he did. Maybe they really did completely derail the road to Vol. 3 and he just won't admit it, but the film as it is doesn't help in any way by pretending nothing there happened at all. I don't see any logical reason for the audience to just go along with "For some reason Gamora left, she might've died but also maybe not, who knows. Peter is sad and the rest of the team want to move onto something else. " and then the only hint at that last part is... Mantis telling Peter to go see his grandpa, so that leads to everyone else having a change in goals too, huh. I know it's not meant to be forever, and we're to assume everyone keeps in contact with each other, but the ending really makes it feel like no, we'll never all be together again, so bah.

And concerning Gamora, I agree with what you've said. I could write an entire book with my issues of her overall treatment in the narrative and the implications of her character from the comics getting adapted like this, but I'll spare you the speech and just say the TLDR is everything starting from IW onwards concerning her (the specific framing around her murder and then time travel bringing in 2014-Gamora, and the complete lack of acknowledgement about either version of her from the rest of the team) never should've happened. It's all such a mind-boggling choice, I can't get over how much of an afterthought Gunn made her at the very last minute.

It's funny you mention the need for another film to deal with the emotional fallout of everything post-Vol. 2, because absolutely, but they kind of had the chance??? I realize the Holiday Special isn't film length and is meant to be the calm before the storm of everything that's to come, but in a post-Vol. 3 world I can't stop thinking about how it was SUCH a missed opportunity to not have that be the sobering moment for the characters to talk about everything that happened in the years everyone was snapped. It could've even been the perfect time to plant the metaphorical plot seeds of everyone wanting to go and do their own things after what happened because they just can't make life feel the exact same as it was before, and understanding things can never be the same after something like that.

Even the last lines of the song used in the Holiday Special feels more appropriate for the Guardians as a family struggling to keep it all together (and trying to deal with the sudden loss of Gamora) than it relates to Peter and Yondu, in my opinion.

I would have preferred a more out-there story in general, something to give everyone equal stakes in the plot, but I do think Vol. 3 could have stayed overall the same if any of this was addressed or even mentioned in one or two lines of dialogue somewhere. Because as it is, it really feels like we missed something important between it all, but we didn't from what we we've been shown. I don't think it would have killed Gunn to include a quick moment where someone just says to Peter "I miss her too and I get everything's been way harder lately, but you can't let it grind your life to a complete halt like this." or something!! ANYTHING!!!

And if we absolutely had to stick with the time displaced Gamora plot... When she was snooping around on the Bowie by herself i dont get why she didn't get to see some old photos or something of the team during happier times (including 2018-Gamora specifically) and realizing that they really are going so far to save Rocket because they genuinely love him, and once upon a time they loved her too. 2014-Gamora getting to see the life she very nearly COULD have had within mere hours in her own timeline (without the threat of Thanos ever taking that away, mind you) but having to come to terms with the life she's made with the Ravagers in the present day. That would've been a more appropriate arc for her, I think, then her presence in the story wouldn't have had to only center around what Peter lost and nothing else and we'd at least get the idea that the others still had her on their minds even if they outwardly "moved on."

But also? Another missed opportunity to not have a moment when 2014-Gamora is in a battle with the other Ravager leaders mirroring the hallway scene with the Guardians that could have been when Peter (and the audience) "get" who she's currently more comfortable with in a basic sense, but... you know... it is what it is or whatever.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[bumblydumbly]

maybe im an actual fucking freak but guess who’s been ugly crying for and hour bc of the dw s10 finale 🎉🎉🎉

[highvern]

endpoint

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader

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

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

Length: ~19.5k

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

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

collab m.list || m.list

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

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

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

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

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

“Me first,” you whisper back. 

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

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

[09:48] You:  be nice

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

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

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

[09:48] wonwoo: from what?

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

[09:49 ]wonwoo : i wouldn’t kill them

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

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

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

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

[09:50] You: oh?

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

[09:50] wonwoo: nice ass

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

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

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

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

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

“I have work until eleven.”

“After?”

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

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

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

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

It’d been…not good. 

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

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

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

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

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

The application website stares back from your laptop with horror. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not drunk,” he argues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“May he rest in peace.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

True.

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

Even truer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sleep when I’m done with this.”

“And what is ‘this’ exactly?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“F-fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bitch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, so do I,” you argue.

“I know. This is bullshit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But now that’s over.

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

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

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

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

“So do I,” Wonwoo argues, eyes cold.

“Fine.”

That recommendation is mine.

“Fine!”

We’ll see about that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

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

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

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

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

“No,” you spit like a curse.

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

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

“I’m sleeping.”

“On the couch?” 

“Yep.”

“You’re too tall.”

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

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

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

“No.”

“No?”

“No. N. O.”

Fine.

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

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

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

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

“You’re too tall to sleep here.”

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

“No,” you huff.

“No?”

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

“You’re being ridiculous.”

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

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

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

“You’re being ridiculous.”

You do the mature thing and bite him. 

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

You do it again.

“Stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here, everything is uncomplicated.

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

“Are you okay?”

Wonwoo groans and curses, cradling his elbow.

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

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

“Yes. You. Lots of times.”

“Good. Wanna make sure you’re aware.”

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

“We can’t sleep like this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have mercy,” you whimper.

“Then get your ass in bed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It makes the urge to cry that much worse.

The rain is gone by morning. 

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

“Morning.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you can’t.

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

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

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

“We can’t.”

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

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

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

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

“Stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

“Good!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you call.

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

“You did.”

“But—”

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

And then you're alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guess.” You tilt your chin, cocky.

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

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

“Dangerous words.”

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

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

He still hasn’t kissed you.

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

“Mingyu thought you were Socrates.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh please, I feel your boner.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why is your boyfriend moping?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Turn around.”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m shaking in my toga.”

“And you call me a loser.”

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

“Yeah, yeah. Take your panties off.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When you almost got us killed?”

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

“Do it again.”

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

“Because—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Answer the question.”

“I hope not.”

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

“It’s our last Halloween party.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought he was an idiot.”

“He is but he’s good for blackmail.”

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

“We can’t sleep here.”

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

“You’re hiding in your room with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t.

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

“Why would you do that?”

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

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

“Yes, I am,” you emphasize. 

“You’re a bad liar.”

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

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

“Too much caffeine will kill you.”

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

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

“Is this penance?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“After?”

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

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

“Are you trying to bribe your way in?”

“Is it working?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You made that pretty clear.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You and Wonwoo.”

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

“What about me and Wonwoo?”

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

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

“No.”

“Oh, I thought—”

“We’re just friends.”

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

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

“‘Huh’ what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you guys are always together.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want to drown in it.

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

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

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

But it can’t be.

“Then we should end this.”

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

“What?” he says.

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

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

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

“You think I’d hate you?” 

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

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

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

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Your voice pinches in your throat.

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

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

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

“That wasn’t—” you shake your head.

“It’s fine. I’ll get over it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Other people notice too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you repeat again.

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

“So what does this mean?”

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

“But we haven’t even—”

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

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

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

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

Wonwoo still hasn’t let go of your hand.

“Did that just happen?” he asks.

“What the fuck.”

“What the fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me finish.”

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

“You love me?”

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

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

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

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

“What the hell was that for?” 

He does it again.

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

“Whatever, you love me.”

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

“Why are you crying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning to me,” you sigh.

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

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

“I’ll catch you up, don’t worry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re annoying.”

“You love me.”

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

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

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

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

“Don’t stop,” you grunt. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Roll over,” you pant.

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

“Make love to me,” you croon.

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

“What happened to sloppy I love you sex?” 

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

“Love it.” 

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

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

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

“I love you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you’re not done yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Know anyone interested?”

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

“Who?”

“Me.” 

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

“A-about?”

Everything.

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

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

“Can’t last—” he chokes.

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

4 months later…

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

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

The big envelope in the mail today helped too.

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe.”

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

“What’s that?”

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

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

“You don’t have a cat.”

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

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” you confirm.

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

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

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

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

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts

@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially

@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

@lukeys-giggle @aaa-sia @tinkerbell460

[serejae]

everywhere everything all at once | c.hansol

in which vernon would chose you every life time, based on his favorite movie :)

ive been writing alot of vernon latelyyyy (if u get the movie and references, give me a hug.)

-

the screen went black after the movie ended leaving vernon and you speechless

this had to be one of the most beautiful movies you two had seen after binging so many. you turned over to vernon who was still staring at the screen with a blank stare, reading his facial expression you moved a piece of his hair out of his face to get a better view which knocked him out of his trance

slightly flinching at the sudden touch but relaxed realizing it was you

“whats on your mind?”

you asked still looking up at him

“would you love me in every life time?”

the question stunned you for a second, why was he asking this so suddenly?

“i mean waymond loved her in all of his lives. so i was just thinking…

would you love me in all your lives?

would you even choose me?”

each question left you shocked, because you hoped he knew the answer already. but sometimes everyone needs reminders,

right?

“sol,” you started catching gaining back his attention. he slightly turned his head to you as if he was afraid of what youd say

“ill choose and love you in every life i live. even if youre not a option and i have to find you myself, ill do that just do be loved by you in every single universe of mine”

vernon finally looked at you and smile slightly contented with you answer. he held you a bit closer and ran his hand through his hair

“i knew youd say that, i just wanted a little…

reminder?”

“i know.”

“i would choose you in every lifetime of mines too

i dont think i could ever live without you”

so there you both were, laying on the couch holding eachother knowing that even if the universe did set you apart, you both would slowly find eachother again no matter the circumstances

because you know he would look for you, and you know you would look for him

no matter if you two were rocks in the same pile, you would dig through the other rocks to find him. a special rock, one that shines in your eyes and to that he’ll look for you and once he finds you, you both will live as rocks together

happy

intertwined, sewn together

(did this mofo just go on a rant about rocks…?)

[aajjks]

TEACH ME (m)

synopsis. Teach me.. that’s what he says everytime he’s got his fingers deep inside you.

trope: age gap [10 years] yandere, forbidden relationship and cheating.

warnings. f-ngering, expl-cit themes, pr-fanity, he’s got a filthy mouth, f-rbidden r-lationship [teach-r x st-dent], y-ndere jk, p-sessive beh-viour, j-alousy, ch-ating, m-oning strict 18+ THEMES. MDNÏ.

note. PHEWWWWWW 🫠🫡🥵… YALL….. this is for all the horny girls on my blog. ONLY FOR YOU!! I think this is not gonna be a series but just a one shot and I hope to get it out soon but I wanted to put out a teaser and please talk to him and I just know you’re gonna love him because I know you guys have some fucked up fantasies. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS. I LOVE READING YOUR THOUGHTS AND YOUR ASKS also YALL the colored gradient text looks so pretty 🥹🥹🥹

note 2.0. This is strictly for 18+ so please do not interact if you’re underage. [TEASER]

If you wanna be tagged, please reply under this post x

“Hahaha what??”

Jungkook walks to your figure, you’re standing behind your desk, your back leaning against the blackboard, he knows you’ve said something really important right now but…

How the fuck is he supposed to take you seriously when your tits are practically popping out of your right dress shirt? Or the pencil skirt that is clinging onto your ass like second skin?

Goodness you’re so fucking hot, his cock is practically pulsing inside his underwear.

“Ms yn… what?” He manages to say, now towering over your smaller figure, you glare at him, swear tickling down your forehead.

“It’s Mrs Jeong for you!”

“Ms yn…. No.” Jungkook rolls his eyes as he closes the distance between you two, there’s no one in this empty university hallway, your door is closed,

Jungkooks eyes are set on you like a predator and the way your breathing is irregular suddenly, makes him feel superior to you despite your age difference of 10 years.

“Sorry that’s almost sounds like you said Mrs Jeon…. Haha… so similar won’t you agree?” His chest is now touching yours, his eyes contain a carnal hunger for you.

“I’m sorry but that can’t happen, yn.” He tsks, feigning disappointment, like he’s sympathizing with you, but you know better.

Jungkook knows that you know him better than anyone.

You know him so deeply and so intimately.

Jungkook forces his knee between your legs, spreading them, you gasp, he smirks.

“How dare you try to abandon me huh? I don’t give a fuck- NO JUNGKOOK YOU DONT UNDERSTAND I-I CANT COMPROMISE- shhh.” He presses his finger on your tinted lips.

He guides his hand down your panties, playing with the hem of it, “n-no jungkook please don’t-“” jungkook doesn’t stop, “listen yn- or Mrs Jeong.” He grits his teeth while spitting your last name out,

“I don’t give a FUCK ABOUT YOUR PATHETIC HUSBAND! OR YOUR SHAM OF A MARRIAGE!” He seethes,

“How pathetic you are huh?” he bites his tongue before speaking. “You sleep on that very bed with your stupid husband where I’ve made you cum so many fuckin times huh?” He tugs your panties down roughly.

You need a reminder of who you belong to, and he will gladly do it right here in this classroom.

“J-JUNGKOOK What are you doing?” You stutter, he rolls his eyes.

You know damn well what he’s doing. “Oh ms yn. You should know damn well and what I’m doing. Because your body knows it.” He smiles, almost cruelly at you.

He starts to tease your wet pooling heat, his fingers skilled as he starts to move them around your clit.

“nghh nooo..” you can’t even hold your moans at this point. He gets your sexual frustration. Your pathetic excuse of husband can never please you.

Your brain & your heart, and especially your pussy are currently fighting with each other right now disagreeing with what you really want and what you should do.

arguing with you between what’s wrong and what’s right.

“Oh come on ms yn- you’re soaking wet for me..” he plunges his fingers inside your inviting cunt.

“Oh yes moan for me…” he groans, whispering in your ear.

Your eyes are at the verge of rolling back he fucks you with his calloused fingers. “Divorce the bastard and I’ll let you cum.”

He pumps them in and out of you- teasing you.

Jungkook licks the side of your neck, grunting in your ear.

“If you won’t divorce him I’ll murder him and then fuck you right infront of his rotting corpse.”

[ericityyy]

Hi!

Can i request a fluff georgie x reader where he is head over heals with her?

The family dont know who she is (just sheldon bcs they are in the same university and she is very smart), but one day georgie takes her back home to hang out as friends and the family falls in love with how kind smart and charming she is and they are like: "this is the one for him"

Your writing is wholesome 😚

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘎𝘦𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘦’𝘴 “𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥” 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘍𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺

𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚: 𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘹 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘵

𝙏𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1,632

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

Sometimes when you look at someone you like, you get this feeling of time slowing down around you but fast forwarding to the moment you imagine yourself with that person. That feeling is what Georgie experiences when with her. Y/N L/N. There are many beautiful girls around the world, but nothing can compare to her.

She’s beautiful in his eyes, no matter what setting they are in, whether it is dark or not. She glows in his eyes. When it’s bright, she’s the cause. When it’s crowded, she’s the only one he sees. When they’re alone, nothing else matters. Needless to say, Georgie will always be proud to admit that he is down bad for this girl, and yet he couldn’t find the courage to do it in front of her.

It is no secret that Georgie is not particularly the smartest one in the family; however, that does not mean that he is dumb. He’s smart in his own way. Everyone is. It’s always comforting when she tells Georgie that he’s not dumb, as other people put it. In her words, she is "book smart” and the boy is “street smart," to which the latter agrees since Y/N does not go outside much.

There’s more ways to enjoy herself in the comfort of her home, more specifically in her room, where all her books and experiments reside.

That’s why she was left confused when she found herself at Dairy Queen with Georgie. How he convinced her to hang outside, she doesn’t know. Clearly it was one of Georgie’s talents to be so convincing. Partly, it was because Y/N couldn’t say no to the boy.

“After graduating high school, I just go to Dr. Sturgis’ class for the hell of it.” Y/N explains while scooping up some ice cream, “My parents are trying to convince me to go to a university and finish my studies altogether; honestly, they just want to brag to our relatives that I graduated college at such a young age.” She furrowed her eyebrows while letting out a bitter smile. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents, but I don’t want to rush into college, y'know? I just want to take a break from studying, but I gave them a chance to let me enroll in Dr. Sturgis’ class, but only in his class so technically, still not in college.” Y/N laughed slightly before turning her attention to the person she’s with.

Georgie nodded his head at times when Y/N was telling her story, and the girl noticed, “I’m sorry, I’ve been talking about myself; how about you? What’s the latest news going on with Mr. Georgie Cooper?" The girl smirked smugly at the boy in front of her, making the said boy chuckle nervously.

“Nothing much, really.” Georgie shrugged, not knowing what to tell, “Just the usual, religious mom, coach dad, carefree meemaw, chaotic little sister, know it all little brother, y'know the normal.”

Y/N laughed at his description of his family. Nothing is normal with the Coopers, that’s for sure, but that’s what makes them so unique in a way that the girl wants to have the pleasure of meeting them. And because of that, she blurted out, “They sound fun; it’ll be a joy to meet them personally.” She not-so-subtly hinted to Georgie, who stopped scooping his ice cream.

“Why? "Georgie squinted his eyes confusingly, not really understanding why the girl wanted to meet his family.

Y/N shrugged, playing with her spoon. “Nothing really; I just want to meet them. Is that okay?" She then asked, losing confidence in her voice, which, again, the boy noticed.

“It’s okay, just don’t let them freak you out.”

"Oh, please, how bad can they be?”

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

“Y/N, what were your thoughts in Dr. Sturgis’ class today? I think it was motivational. Then again, it’s not like I don’t know what the contents of his lessons are anyway.” Sheldon arrogantly bragged as he walked alongside the older girl. Although he did not know he was being arrogant, it’s just the way he presents himself to people. And Y/N has come to terms with that.

Y/N decided to humor the younger boy as they walked outside the university. “Well, I think Dr. Sturgis made a mistake during his lecture.” Sheldon looked up at her, confused with his face all frowning. “What do you mean by mistake? I’m sure I would have recognized the mistake that Dr. Sturgis made.”

The girl was about to answer when they heard a car honking, startling Sheldon in the process, before they both noticed it was “Georgie!” Y/N exclaimed, a huge smile on her face seeing her friend. She ran up to the car as the boy got out of it to open the passenger door for her.

“Ma’am, your service awaits.” Georgie pretended to tip his imaginary hat. “Why, thank you, kind sir," while Y/N attempted to mimic a British accent, almost doing it perfectly.

“Georgie?” Sheldon asked, confused as he walked to his older brother’s car, "What are you doing here? Where’s Meemaw? Will you be the one taking me home? ”

Georgie sighed a bit annoyed. “Meemaw is a bit busy right now, so I volunteered to pick you up, also because Y/N will be joining us for dinner.”

“Huh. Well, that’s delightful to hear.” Sheldon opened the backseat door, waiting for his brother to come in before speaking again. "Delightful, as in Y/N joining us for dinner and not you picking me up.”

“Would you like to walk home? ”

“No.”

“Georgie!”

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

“We’re home!” Georgie shouted once they came inside the door of their home. The Cooper household, it was nerve-wracking for Y/N to experience this kind of situation. She didn’t grow up with that many friends due to her isolating herself most of the time. But there’s a first time for everything.

Sheldon, after pestering Y/N with what mistake Dr. Sturgis made in his lecture, went to his bedroom to drop off his briefcase, but not before telling Y/N that “This isn’t over, L/N.” Y/N raised an eyebrow at the walking boy before turning back to the nearing footsteps.

Mary came face-to-face with Y/N, not being familiar with her. “Hi, I’m sorry. Who are you?” She asked, not wanting to be rude but wanting to know this stranger inside her house.

"Oh, where are my manners?” Y/N offered her hand to the woman, giving her a beaming smile. “I’m Y/N, Mrs. Cooper. I was invited by your eldest son to dinner, but now I figure that you weren’t informed of my presence here in your humble abode.” The girl then turned to Georgie, who shrugged with a smile on his face. “I wouldn’t want to possibly intrude.”

Mary waved a hand in the girl’s direction before shaking hands with her. “Nonsense, darling, I’m happy that Georgie made friends with a gorgeous girl like yourself, and you may call me Mary.” The woman then led them to the dining table, not noticing that Y/N elbowed Georgie once her back turned to them. The boy crouches in pain, not before seeing Y/N’s overly sweet smile.

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

“So you mean to say that you go to the same classes with Sheldon at the university?" Missy questioned, interested in the new girl placed between Sheldon and Georgie. “And you survived being with him? Oh, I like you.”

Sheldon looked offended by his sister’s insult before looking content with their mother scolding the twin girl.

“It’s not much of a challenge anyway; I like Sheldon’s wit. It amuses me.” Y/N laughed at Sheldon’s arrogant expression.

“Do you have any religion, Y/N?” Mary asked hopefully. So far, she really likes the girl between her sons; the woman thinks that the girl is the one for Georgie.

Y/N nodded, swallowing her food before answering, “I was born and baptized a Christian, as my family is all Christians.” Mary, after receiving the answer, smiled widely at that, looking at George, motioning her head toward the girl excitedly.

“You mentioned that you graduated high school? At what age?” It was now George’s turn to ask; they were all taking turns getting to know the girl, and by that, it meant questioning her.

“Yes, Mr. Cooper. I actually graduated high school when I was 13. And now, I’m thinking about when I’m going to enroll fully in a university to get my degree. I haven’t really thought about going to college any time soon; basically, Dr. Sturgis’ lectures are just hobbies in a way.”

“And what exactly is your relationship with our Georgie here?” Connie finally asked what most of them were thinking, casually drinking a beer. Y/N choked on her pasta, with Georgie patting her back gently and offering her water, which she took. The boy noticed his family eyeing his actions toward Y/N; he sent them an eye roll.

“We’re just friends, Meemaw," Georgie answered, fighting back the urge to confess his feelings right there and then. But he figured to take this more privately than out in the open with his family present. That doesn’t really scream romantic to him.

Y/N paid no mind to his answer and rubbed her thumb on the back of his hand, smiling at him. "Thanks, darling.” She was grateful for him taking care of her when she was nearly dying earlier. “Don’t mention it, dear.” Georgie smiled back.

They didn’t notice the eyes on them, as they only saw each other right now. Needless to say, the family found the one for Georgie Cooper. He did too.

“I still don’t recall Dr. Sturgis’ mistake earlier.” Well, it was good while it lasted.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

i am so happy receiving your request :’> you’re my first ever request in this app and i was lowkey losing hope. but thank you so much for requesting this and i hope this lives up to your expectation.

pls don’t be a ghost reader.

[daisymbin]

the unplanned date - kim mingyu

warning: suggestive but not really! just light mentions of past sexual events but thats all. slight use of profanities

pairings: kim mingyu x reader

genre: situationship to lovers lmaooo

word count: 2.8k

a/n: 1. fuck taeil

2. this was originally written for jeonghan but i felt it fitted mingyu better

3. please this took fucking forever because I kept getting writers block and hated the flow but I think I'm satisfied with it now

requests open!

check out my masterlist!

"what? she's cheating on me?” mingyu asked in disbelief. “and what do you mean she's not my girlfriend?” mingyu angrily questioned jun with a slightly raised voice; his forehead and eyebrows scrunched in anger and confusion. “what the hell are you talking about? since when in the world did the two of you date? in another alternate universe??? all she did was go out on one date!” jun countered as he walks to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. at that, mingyu left their shared apartment, heading straight to yours; needing answers.

you jump when you hear your doorbell ring, “were you expecting someone?” your roommate seungcheol asked as you both exchange glances while he notes the time, it's 3:07am. “no?” you said as you got up from the sofa where you had been lounging on with seungcheol, binge watching the entire high school musical series but seungcheol stopped you, “wait, i'll get it. its late, it could be some creepy old man.” seungcheol rushed to open the door while you followed close by behind him. as soon as he opened the door, you were both met with a messy, disheveled hair kim mingyu. he’s panting so much that for a second, he looks like he might actually pass out. “mingyu? what are you doing here at this hour?” seungcheol asked as he opened the door wider for him to enter. “did you run here???” you asked. “yes but thats not the point right now,” mingyu pauses to catch his breath, “did you go out on a date with jun's classmate? are you cheating on me?”

seungcheol's brows slightly furrowed at mingyu's words, “woah calm down. why dont you come in first?” he asked as he tugged on mingyu's sleeves, ushering him in. “alright, im gonna be in my room to give you two some….privacy. no funny business please, its 3am and I could use some sleep.”

mingyu inpatiently waited for seungcheol to retreat to his room before he sprung his question yet again onto you. “so??? are you not going to answer me??” it was clear that mingyu is frustrated as he laid his clenched fist on the kitchen counter. “what the fuck are you talking about? cheating on you? we're not even together!” you countered back as your forehead and eyebrows scrunched in confusion & slight anger matching mingyu's. “I'm asking you why the hell I just heard from jun that you went on a date with that new guy boy from his biology class?” mingyu knew he was being slightly petty but still, how could you? you watched as he slowly unclench his fists only to grip at the corners of the kitchen counter. “like i said, you and i? we're not together mingyu. I'm free to date whoever I want, isn't it? that was the rule you set, is it not?” you asked in anger.

“what do you mean we're not together?” mingyu paused before he continued. his question was laced with confusion and a hint of heartbreak but of course, he tried to mask it with even more frustration. “we hold on hands all the damn time y/n! we spend time together, A LOT of time together might i add, we stay over at each other's place, we nap together, we sleep together, we cuddle, we hug, we kiss, you play with my hair all the time and i do too! i mean, for god's sake, we fuck each other! what do you mean we're not together?”

“so what, mingyu?’’ your own voice and tone took you aback for a second, the words came out harsher than you would have liked but you dont falter. “weren’t you the one who said you didn't want anything serious to begin with? weren't you the one who said that we’re only keeping things casual and nothing more? so why are you here at my apartment at ass o'clock screaming at me about cheating on you?” you had made sure to put out air quotes for those last 3 words.

this time, there was a clear dip in mingyu's voice, softer, more tender, more vulnerable. “well…yes but that was before.. that was when we were still… I don't know, fucking around but now we're definitely not! the things we do are definitely not just… fucking around things! you know what I mean! why are you making this so hard!” mingyu was exasperated, that much was clear. you watch as he now has his arms folded and his pout coming to light, making your heart clench at the sight. “gyu...” you said as you let out a small sigh, mingyu perked up at his nickname, his gaze shifting to you. “I'm not trying to make anything hard and you know that. how was i supposed to know anything? how was i supposed to know what you want if you don't tell me?”

“I thought you'd know by now…i-i thought it was obvious by now…I thought we both…”

“you thought we both what mingyu? you can't just keep all these thoughts to yourself without telling me and expect me to know anything because trust me, I don't! I don't know how you feel about me, I don't know if any of this is as serious for you as it is for me, god, I don't know what your intentions are! all I know from you is that this is all just casual and nothing more! and you know what's the worst part of it all? it's that I can't even ask you about it because then I'm gonna come off as clingy and needy and it's pathetic to even imagine presenting myself that way to you!” your lips were now pressed together in a thin line; an overwhelming feeling of shame and embarrassment taking over you, forcing you to look away from him to avoid eye contact and you start to feel your eyes prick you with tears threatening to spill.

“you know I'd never think that of you... i just…I'm not good with words. I don't know how to tell you what I want or how I feel about you. I just get so tongue tied when it comes to you. I really thought that maybe if I lo-” mingyu all but stopped himself with a deep sigh, unable to voice out his hidden feelings for you. he took a few seconds to find a replacement for that word before he took another deep breath & continued, “I really thought that maybe if I just… let things be and let my feelings act on their own that maybe you'd pick up on it and we would just…” he ended with a sigh that was barely audible. you would have missed it if you weren't all focused on him.

his voice trailing off and quivering only forced you to quickly blink your tears away to look back at him; the sight of his shoulders slumped and his head looking down, not meeting your eyes only broke your heart even more. is it possible for your heart to feel so heavy and sad, yet filled with so much hope? because that's definitely how you're feeling right now.

regardless of how much you think you know what mingyu is trying to say, you still wanted him to say it, you still wanted to hear it from him. this friends with benefits situationship thing has been going on long enough for a year & a half now & that doesnt include the years before when you were both friends. everyone knows you're both kind of a thing yet not really. no matter how much the boys pushed for mingyu to make it official, mingyu always brushed them off and said that he didn't have to, that you already know what you both had, but in this moment, it dawned on him that what he thought he had with you isn't what you thought you had with him. all the self loathe and heartbreak he's feeling right now couldn't have made him feel more stupid than he already was.

“gyu can you- can you try? can you try telling me? Just… take your time, im here, im listening, I have all the time in the world for you, just try baby. I just want to know how you really feel, I just want to know what you want for yourself and for us.” your hands reached out for his with a mind of its own.

looking down at your joined hands, mingyu starts moving his thumb mindlessly at the back of your hand, caressing them gently. it's now that he realizes how utterly stupid he has been. “baby i-” yours eyes follow his hands as they now draw circles on yours as you gave him a light squeeze of encouragement. “go on gyu, im listening.”

“I don't know how to do this. I know I said I didn't want anything serious at the start of it and that it's just casual but… but that was before you- do you remember our first date?” mingyu gathers all the courage he could find in himself and cautiously brings his eyes to yours. “what date?” you didn't want to sound rude or cold but as far as you could remember, you've never had any dates with mingyu. your relationship with him started off as just being friends for years, evolving into a friends with benefits situation which was strictly only physical needs late at night, outside of that, you were nothing more, well, at least for the first few months that is. until….unless..? was he talking about the first time you both hung out together alone without the boys outside of the bedroom and while the sun is still out? “do you mean…the flea market?” you asked as realization dawned on you; that was the day your friends with benefits relationship evolved into something that was like a relationship but not really, the cursed situationship type of thing.

mingyu chuckles as he realizes how sentimental he looks right now, although, he's not sure if you can tell. his shy smile and fangs peeking through as he watches the gears in your head turn. “well..what about that day mingyu?” truth be told, you remember that day clear as day, but you can't pinpoint exactly what mingyu is trying to say; there wasn't really anything…special or anything that stood out that day, well, other than the fact that you were both out and not in bed that is.

“that was the first time we hung out together alone after we started the whole friends with benefits thing. do you remember? that night before that, when we broke our first rule of not sleeping over?” a quiet mhm was all you could let out, unsure of where mingyu is going with this. “do you even remember why I called you over that night?”

“you were sad. your hamster….he passed away.” you said carefully. “mhm he did. and that evening, that night, it was the first time you came over and we didn't…we didn't do anything. you held me, comforted me and let me wet your t-shirt with my tears. you insisted on putting me to bed and cuddling me to sleep for the first time and told me that you'd leave after I've fallen asleep. I still remember your slight hesitation that night when I'd asked you to stay over and not leave. did you know? i felt my heart sank a little when you hesitated but that was just the first of many realization that i- that i was in love with you.” your heart fluttered at his admission, “the first of many? were there more?”

for the first time tonight, mingyu let out a laugh, the one you loved so much. “of course there's more. when we woke up the next morning, my head was pounding so bad from all the crying the night before and I was so sad when I woke up alone in bed because I thought you had left but it was almost as if you had some psychic power and knew I was awake, you were screaming from the kitchen saying you know I was awake and asked me to get my ass over to the kitchen!” mingyu laughed harder this time, his hand coming up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “that was because I had just came back from the bakery! my hands were full so I accidentally let the door slam a little and I was sure that that would have woken you up!” you giggled while trying to defend yourself.

“you even got me my favourite cake from the bakery and all my other favourite pastries for breakfast. you must have been so in love with me ~" mingyu joked while raising his eyebrows suspiciously at you and you all but fall silent. you cleared your throat before you teased him back, “so? that's why you like me? because I cuddled you to sleep and bought you food? how easy can you be kim mingyu!”

“no that's not why! although i'll admit, it did click something in me. made me realise how well you know me and how well you take care of me. but that wasn't it! it was when you suggested we go to the flea market after breakfast just to take a walk to clear my mind for a bit. do you remember what happened there?”

“we walked and talked about silly things as always, what else? ah, you tried tanghulu for the first time! I remember that.” you recall giddily at how his eyes widened brightly at the sweetness of tanghulu when he took his first bite. “not that, silly! we ran into your ex & I had told him that i was your boyfriend and asked him to back off, do you know why I did that?” “because you pity me?” you joked, you know mingyu would never pity you, he's not a bad person but you couldn't pass up an opportunity to tease him. mingyu sighed dramatically at that, “no, I said I was your boyfriend because I saw the way he was looking at you…and it made me jealous. it made me realise that, that's the way I always look at you. it made me realise that I don't ever want anyone else to look at you that way and that I want you to look at me that way. me and only me. i-i realised that it's not just sex I want with you. that's why after that day, I kept bringing us out for dinner and stuff. or even just to hang out at home and watch stupid romcoms just to spend time with you. so I thought that, when our relationship from simply friends with benefits isn't friends with benefits anymore that you'd get it i guess…i don't know…saying it out loud right now sounds so stupid… I probably should have said something earlier… I'm sorry.” mingyu had his eyes on his hands again, guilt and embarrassment washing over him.

"thank you, gyu-ah. I really needed to hear all of that from you.” you lifted your hand to rest your palm on his cheeks, guiding his eyes back to you. “does that mean you like me too?” silly silly kim mingyu you thought. “no of course not!” you joked a failed joke because it seems kim mingyu didn't get the joke when he let out a quiet oh. “you're so silly kim mingyu. can't you tell im in love with you by now? how much more obvious can a girl get?” mingyu ears perked up at your words, then, smiling so big his jaws almost hurt. his hands turn to pull you by your wrists, placing them around his waist as he pulled you into a hug. your hands move up to rest on his neck and the other in his hair, tugging them lightly at the scalp. “I love you, I'll do better for you.” he spoke so close to your ear his lips almost brush them. “I love you too, thank you, I'll do better for you too.” your words only caused mingyu to tighten his hold on you, “can we go to bed now? I'm so tired and I want to sleep with my girlfriend.” he whined pouting. “yes we can, boyfriend.” you answered with a smile as you start dragging your big puppy into your bedroom, excited for more cuddles to come.

[wonryllis]

somewhere in northern italy | 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇.

synopsis. park sunghoon hates oranges, he always has. the tangy citrusy tingles he's so not fond of it. he also hates you, the living embodiment of an orange: cheery, full of life, and well, round. why should he be bothered by it though? all he has to do is work hard to get into his dream university. but the thing is, he really needs a specific recommendation letter for it. something which he can only get from your father. and hypothetically speaking, he can't just ask for it, so he does you 'a favor for a favor'; he fake dates you on your trip home for summer break and surprise surprise your family owns the biggest orange farm in the country.

or where, sunghoon falls for the one thing he has hated all his life.

word count. 1.6k (teaser) full fic: est 10k-15k? maybe more?

meet the cast. park sunghoon who has an obsession of taking photos with fem!reader who loves being photographed.

genre. fake dating AUUUU!!!! ANDDD enemies to lovers!!!(for hoon), frenemies to lovers(for you), fluff, crackkkk, nsfw, suggestive, sunghoon getting cockblocked all the damn time, set in lombardy, northern italy. popular x unpopular but it's mildly mentioned. sunghoon thinks you are a spoiled brat, a very very studious and upright sunghoon. oh and did you know? orange, orange and orange (sunghoons nightmare) rich girlie and old money reader, sunghoon is gobsmacked at reader's house, parents..(do i really need to add?) and the orange farm.

warnings. allusions as to reader being daddy's princess and being sheltered and hoon struggling every day with oranges and painting a good image of himself to get that letter. nsfw warnings will be added in the full fic. (also no it's not a chubby reader)

RELEASE DATE. TBD

written so far. 15%

author's note﹙ ⌕. ﹚ had this random ass idea while having orange juice yesterday ksjksj. taglist is open for this as well as the permanent one, just let me know and i'll add you asap! not sure if this' good enough kindly bear with me. PLS DONT LET THIS FLOP I REALLY LOVE THIS BABY ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

꒰⠀ N O W P L A Y I N G. ⠀꒱ cruel summer by taylor swift, one kiss by calvin harris & dua lipa, karma by taylor swift, me by taylor swift, call it what you want by taylor swift, blinding lights by the weekend, fireworks by katy perry

"you wanna go down to the lake?" sunghoon looks up to find you at the door, more like peeping in from outside. his hands stopping mid-air with his spongebob boxers in hand, in the middle of unpacking what was left of his luggage. he moves at the speed of light, shoving them back in before you can notice the print. but too late you already saw it well, "you wear spongebob?" your laugh tickles his insides and it feels weird how he seems to like it.

no, he did not want to go out right now. after that stressful breakfast in the garden he just wants to fall face first into your fluffy mattress and sleep it out under your silk comforter. but something about your laugh makes him intrigued, would going down to the lake with you show him more of this side of yours? now this would probably be the seventh time he has wondered of how prettily you laugh. the curve of your eyes and the faint dimples on your cheeks his favourite things. oh? he picked favourites already it's weird, he thinks.

"yeah, let's go. just lemme change my shirt real quick," disappearing into the bathroom before you have the chance to speak. though when he steps back into the room,"your taste is funny," his spongebob boxers hang at the tip of your index finger as you look closely at the design. "put that back!" he scolds, choking on his spit while he rushing over.

"why? don't tell me you haven't washed it? now that's really bad hoonie," the tone of your voice teases his nerves but honestly he's used to it, more precisely he doesn't hate it as much as he thought he did.

"y/n," he warns, albeit not seriously and you can see it.

"baby," in a sweet little smile, (one that has sunghoon's hate for you faltering in the slightest each time you put it on) you correct him,"remember?" my fake boyfriend, mouthing out through a sly grin.

it's like an immediate que for him to give it up, he's not gonna win against you. when he used to see you around the university, mingling amidst a crowd of people every single time, he always thought you'd hold nothing against him. in his eyes you were a hollow image, nothing worth it. perhaps he was wrong, for so far you have him tight in a grip, he can't seem to find something to properly hate. that is if he takes the oranges out the picture.

he sighs in resignation,"come on, let's go, baby." happy? his brows rising in a question, softening up at your smile getting wider with a swift nod.

he relaxed too soon.

"was this really necessary?" the palm of his hand slides around your wrist as you walk down the steps of your italian chateau. supporting your heel clad feet and gesturing at the big beige floppy beach hat sitting atop your head. "absolutely! it's my fa- dad!" sunghoon's head snaps at that, immediately turning to look at the pitch of your voice going higher. the real deal, your father still seated in the garden with a newspaper in his hands and dear lord, a glass of orange juice.

it's embarrassing to be seen with you like that, he was gonna say. but oh well, nevermind.

"i see you have your favorite hat on, going somewhere with sunghoon?" your dad asks smiling warmly at your pair. it makes sunghoon scared, aren't dads supposed to hate boyfriends? is he being bamboozled by your family? will he be preyed upon later when you are not there to see? as if it was possible, your entire family though really welcoming of him are a bunch of weirdos, who the fuck let's their precious daughter share her room with her boyfriend they've met for the first time?

when he agreed to fake date you he didn't know he'd have to put on such a detailed act. there's literally no restrictions for you in the house. you do whatever you want, when ever you want. and that includes taking him everywhere you go, because apparently your parents know him as the boyfriend who loves you so much that he can't let you be alone at any time. shouldn't that be a red flag though? he can't with this anymore, just over a day in and he's convinced he can't make it make sense anymore, it's a white towel, he can only go with the flow.

"yes he really wanted to go down to the lake," what me? when? sunghoon's eyes wander in a panic while you smile as if you weren't just lying through your teeth. smile sunghoon smile, just fucking smile, he reminds himself wondering if he should maybe say something, maybe not?,"didn't you, baby?" the little nudge of your elbow against him tells him that he should, oh god its difficult to learn when to do what.

"yeah the weather seems really good," he says, a slight tremor in his voice, internally facepalming himself. he has one job, and he's failing even that.

"hm, true," the acknowledgement from your father helps calm his nerves a bit but it runs on high again at his next words,"be back before lunch though, your brother and sister in law will be home soon. it's been so long since we last ate together," you have a brother? why wasn't he informed about this? is the universe playing a game with him? as if your parents weren't enough, now he has to impress more people. he can do this, for the sake of his recommendation letter he has to do it.

"yes dad! love you," sunghoon waits like a lone statue as you leave his side to press a kiss to your father's cheek. grabbing him by the arm and dragging him away the moment he opens his mouth to bid your father. at this rate you'll ruin it for him before he can ruin it himself. "slowdown, fluffy. i'll fall at this speed," he tries but it's to no avail, he should have known by now, no one can control you.

the walk down to the lake is quieter than he expected, no bickering or fighting. you show him around the small streets and shops on the way, telling him little stories back from your childhood. sometimes stopping at a spot,"so pretty, can you take a picture of me here?" and it's already the fourth time. he doesn't mind though, on the contrary he finds himself enjoying it. it's not everyday he gets to roam around the streets of italy with the perfect weather.

it doesn't take long for you both to reach the deck on the far left. following your lead, he sits down on the edge beside you, legs hanging low over the cold water and your shoes placed on one side. you sit close, arms brushing each other, little finger atop one another. your hair flowing with the wind swipes against his face when you turn the other way, a subtle hint of sweet (you guessed it) orange tingling his smell buds. instead of grimacing his life off, he leans closer for another whiff of it. "sunghoon!" retracting immediately when you turn back to him.

"hm?" a feeling so out of this world, a haze lost in his mind. your words sound blurry and your extravagant hat looks so pretty on you. he almost feels like he has to capture this. "i asked how you like it? weren't you listening? what're you thinking?" and he does, taking out his phone and clicking a candid. he can't believe he now has a photo of you in his gallery that he's taken on his own accord. he's been doing many weird things lately,"it's really pretty," so so many weird things.

"hey fluffy i've been wondering about something," he speaks again, looking away to try to ignore tiny little fluttering butterflies in his stomach.

"what is it?"

"haven't you ever dated before, why do your parents seem so excited to see you have a boyfriend?" there he asked it, the biggest mystery he can't stop thinking about from the moment he set foot in your palace of a house. if it's your first then maybe that would somewhat explain their behaviour, not that it would become normal altogether, just kind of justifiable that he won't be put on the rack. that he's truly welcomed and he's safe.

"not really, no one ever met my standards," your answer throws him off. what?

"does that mean i do?" he tests the water, cautious above all yet his tone still comes off as one of tease.

"yes, except one," he eyes turn to you at that, pupils dilated with curiosity for the one thing stopping him from the title of 'perfect for you' as your parents claimed. meeting his eyes in a lock of contact, you give him a small smile. hands moving over to his white button up, fingers tracing his collar and undone buttons watching his adam's apple bob in a hard gulp as his brown orbs follow your movements, sweat building up at the close proximity when you both lock eyes again,"you don't really like me," sunghoon immediately looks away, a stab of reality, he was actually anticipating something he could change. really park sunghoon? remember you don't like her?

"am i wrong?" you laugh leaning forward to have a look at his face.

"i never said that," sunghoon clears his throat, turning back, suddenly gaining a surge of confidence. park sunghoon what???

TAGLIST ( open. ) @s00buwu @luvyev @deobitifull @nottkwiwin @enhyven @crysieberry @eneiyri @sovlidago @fertiliezedtoesw @laylasmother @pockyyasii @ladyartemesia @kaispulshies @nctislifue @capri-cuntz @sweetjaemss @parksunghoonsgf @ariadores @asteria-wood @laurradoesloveu @en-dream @304files

[graceslcver]

all da ladies love leo valdez ! leo x daughter of poseidon!reader

｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ in which, leo has a crush on yet another girl that’s beyond his league, percy’s sister … and his friends flame him for not being able to confess his feelings!

— this is set in like… university ?? obviously jason doesn’t die…hope u enjoy my first ever fic on here!! might be ooc, soz🫐 also jeyna is a thing…. sorry not sorry!! 🤓😂 (it’s actually not even relevant to this story, but i thought i’d let u know…)

IMSG, “THE LOST HOES 🫤” July 4th, 2024

beauty queen

do yall ever wonder how it’s impossible to not pull hoes

like it sounds like a real SKILL issue

superman

who are you talking about, pipes?

beauty queen

who do u think I’m talking about???

the only mfo who doesn’t have a gf???

do NOT play dumb jason grace

latino elf

oh wow

talking shit in the gc is crazzyyy

superman

i wasn’t!

she was.

beauty queen

do not make me pull up our private messages

latino elf

i see how it is…..

😔 it’s always the bitches u think u can trust…

superman

ok

beauty queen

why is he the driest man alive

this why we didn’t last ong😭

latino elf

or maybe because ur lebanese ???

superman

she’s cherokee huh

wait is that supposed to say lesbian?

latino elf

isn’t that what it says…

beauty queen

💀💀

ok… anyway can we talk about the fact that leo has

been madly in love with y/n since like… forever???

latino elf

no thanks

didn’t ask

not true

lying on my name

superman

yeah yeah whatever helps you sleep at night

beauty queen

he’s down bad shhh

latino elf

OHHH GODDD 😭😭😔😔😔

ok so what if i like her shes so fine

and so nice and sooo mermaid 🧜‍♀️

beauty queen

she is very fine and very nice

and yes she’s very mermaid

superman

we all know he isn’t going to say

anything to her, though, right??

latino elf

hahaha 😂 wdym 😂

i’d tell her if percy weren’t her brother

superman

that didn’t stop you from trying to

flirt with MY sister though???????

latino elf

yeah that’s different tho

she COULDNT go out with me

beauty queen

not like she wanted to anyway

latino elf

gtfo

anyway i don’t plan on telling her that

i have any slight interest in her! 😎

superman

you should though

bet she likes you too

beauty queen

don’t feed into his delusions

superman

gosh pipes, pipe it down a notch

latino elf

fr listen to my bro ‼️

how would i even tell her dawggg

WHAT IF she rejects me 🤨 BOOM FRIENDSHIP GONE

superman

yeah i guess so

but yolo ???

latino elf

yolo my ass bro😒

superman

ok sorry for trying to help

beauty queen

this why she dont want u

latino elf

yeah nd thats why yo relationship was a LIE 🤣

superman

😐

beauty queen

🖕🏼

latino elf

lol ur mad

ok bye u guys are a snooze fest 😴

beauty queen

go talk to ur gf

latino elf

i will, beauty queen 🫡

IMSG, “Y/N 🦈” July 4th, 2024

leo 🛠️

hey hey mermaid

y/n 🦈

hi leo !

whats up :)

leo 🛠️

the sky duh

nothing much tho, just chilling in my dorm

u should totally pull up

y/n 🦈

we’ll see 🧐

i’m in the library rn

leo 🛠️

nerd alert ‼️

y/n 🦈

ok but when u fail our exams dont come crying

leo 🛠️

if it were math/science i would be resting peacefully

but no fr i did study, trust 🙏🏼

y/n 🦈

not that u needed it though

you’re smart enough

leo 🛠️

wowie thanks mermaid

da ladies wish they had my smarts

y/n 🦈

🤨🤨

leo 🛠️

sorry that came out SO wrong 😭

y/n 🦈

ok ok well pull up to the library

perhaps i need ur smarts

leo 🛠️

si señora

will be there in a few 😎

shark_girl • 2h

send message ♡ ➣

pipermstealer replied to your story

omg he wants uuu 😳😳🤣😂

shark_girl

why are u insane

😅😅😅

pipermstealer

i am not insane he wants u

what boy willingly wants to study w a girl

shark_girl

one that’s my friend???

pipermstealer

friend my ass bro

he wanna kiss u so bad…

matching usernames??? THE MAAAN WANTS UU 😭

shark_girl

be fr we’ve had them since we were

like fifteen 🙄🙄

pipermstealer

bro get out I’m actually DONE

u have to wake up queen 😭🙏🏼

IMESSAGE, PIPER & JASON July 5th, 2024

pipes 🌸

i am so SO DONE with yn

jason ⚡️

why

pipes 🌸

bc she’s convinced that leo don’t want her

jason ⚡️

i think its very obvious

do you think yn wants leo thats the real question

pipes 🌸

ABSOLUTELY ?????

she has extreme heart eyes for him

but she’s better at hiding it

jason ⚡️

wait are you being serious

NO WAY

NO WAY??

a girl out of his league actually wants him 🤨

piper 🌸

wait I thought u knew???

jason ⚡️

uhm no

she must be good at hiding it

piper 🌸

or boys are just dense

jason ⚡️

ok well…….

we have to get them together

cause I’m so tired of hearing leo ramble abt her

piper 🌸

ok well i’m tired of yn too

how do we get them together

jason ⚡️

uh I don’t know?????

now why would you think I know

aren’t YOU the daughter of aphrodite

maybe YOU should know 😒

pipes 🌸

someone’s mad

but i don’t know?

one of them has to say something eventually….

jason ⚡️

no way, leo would never… not too sure about yn though.

leo cares too much about their friendship

and he is convinced she only sees him as a friend

and he’s deathly afraid to ruin their friendship

pipes 🌸

why do we have dumb friends

why can’t THEY SEEEE

jason ⚡️

yeah it’s very annoying

man, maybe we shouldn’t interfere?

let them figure it out themselves

pipes 🌸

unless u want leo to date the first girl

who gives him the opportunity to date her,

i think we SHOULD interfere! not a lot just a tiny bit 🤏🏼

jason ⚡️

well i guess you have a point… but how?

pipes 🌸

OK hear me out fr

u share a dorm with leo, yeah?

he always leaves his phone unattended

go into twt and make sure he isnt logged into his private account

jason ⚡️

where is this headed

pipes 🌸

ok shut up

OK but make sure hes on the main

since he always talks about her on his priv

so if yn sees a tweet about her then

SHES GOTTA KNOW

jason ⚡️

FIRST OF ALL thats an invasion of privacy

SECOND OF ALL what if she doesn’t see it before

leo realizes that wasn’t tweeted on his private account

pipes 🌸

no she like stalks his twitter so she’ll see!

and uhm so what if it’s an invasion of privacy

he’ll thank us once he gets the girl of his dreams 🙄

jason ⚡️

ok then….

i’ll do it

but if this backfires i was not apart of it

pipes 🌸

yeah yeah whatever

i’ll take the blame

FIVE DAYS LATER, TWITTER!

IMSG, “THE LOST HOES 🫤” July 10th, 2024

latino elf

HOLY SHIT

HOLY SHIT

IM JUMPING OFF THE NEAREST CLIFF

it was so nice knowing u two

superman

don’t kys ur so sexy haha

what happened though

latino elf

i accidentally tweeted something

about yn.

on my main.

superman

hey man, maybe she didn’t see?

beauty queen

yeah she probably didn’t

latino elf

yeah u guys are RIGHT 😅

she DIDN’T SEE IT!!!

beauty queen

mhm

latino elf

you’re being oddly quiet…

beauty queen

sorry????? IM BUSY

latino elf

yeah huh

superman

you’re crazy

latino elf

oh my god i’m gonna throw up

my friend ship is over with her

she messaged meEEE

HELPPPP

superman

MESSAGE HER BACK???

GO GO GO GOOO BRO

latino elf

no i’m leaving her on delivered

beauty queen

i swear to gods if u don’t message her

jason and i WILL jump you 😭😭

superman

exactly!!

latino elf

it was so nice being her friend 🫤

beauty queen

BRO STFU AND READ HER MESSAGE???

latino elf

ok fine

bye…..

IMSG, “Y/N 🦈” July 10th, 2024

y/n 🦈

leo did u mean to tweet that?

leo 🛠️

tweet what 🤨

y/n 🦈

you know what I’m talking about

you’re not stupid

leo 🛠️

you’re crazy

i got hacked by

jason

y/n 🦈

you’re crazier for thinking I’d believe you

so… u did mean to?

leo 🛠️

i don’t want to ruin our friendship

please don’t let this ruin it

you’re my bestest friend

y/n 🦈

gosh let me talk

i thought you didn’t like me

so i never said anything…?

but i like you, leo. i really do

leo 🛠️

oh my god

are you serious

wait i’m going to your dorm

y/n 🦈

what??

Delivered

Leo looked at his phone for a good second and then left it on his bed, unattended. he ran to your residence hall— it didn’t matter to him that it was quite literally on the other side of campus. he needed to hear you say the words he had been waiting to hear since he was fifteen. he’d always had a slight crush on you, mostly off and on.

But during the summer, he had fallen for you even harder than he thought he could. he never thought that he could love someone as much as he loved you. anyway, he was practically dying as he ran to your dorm! his hair was disheveled, and he was panting a bit. he wasn’t sure if he was sweaty because he was nervous, or because he had just ran to get to your dorm.

He knocked on your door three times.

You jumped out of your bed. you felt like throwing up from how nervous you were. you quickly slid on your slippers, and looked in the mirror before you opened the door for him. (making the poor boy wait). you adjusted your hair, making sure it sat right.

You took a deep breath before opening the door. you almost didn’t, but a voice in your head was telling you that you’d be an idiot if you didn’t open the door. your hands gripped the doorknob, and then unlocked it. leo was practically dying because you were taking years to open the stupid door. you finally opened it, getting met by a disheveled-sweaty-flushed leo valdez.

“Hi.” he croaked out, his voice cracking slightly. he felt like he was on fire, literally. he wanted this to be over with! well, no, that’s a lie. he just wanted to be your boyfriend already.

“…Hi.” you answered, your voice was quiet. you had an awkward smile on your face. you were praying that you would just drown at this moment. you’d much rather enjoy that than this.

He cleared his throat, and finally spoke after a long minute of awkward silence. The two looked at each other “I really… really like you. I.. Uh.. You obviously know that already, but I wanna tell you in person?” he said, nodding along with his own words. his hands went to fumble with the hem of his shirt, anxiously waiting for your response.

“I really like you, too.” You replied. you didn’t feel as nervous as anymore when he started to talk. you felt your face getting hotter, and your smile getting bigger. he grinned at you like an idiot.

He thought that he was dreaming when you said you liked him. The start of something. “Really?” He asked, just wanting to hear you say it again. He couldn’t help but grin like an idiot. He thought never in a million years that you’d ever like him! You were totally out of his league. you were so awesome, so pretty, and so sweet.

You nodded again, rolling your eyes. “Yes, really.”

THREE MONTHS LATER… INSTAGRAM!

shark_girl

🎶 let the light in : lana del rey (feat. father john misty)

Liked by percysbeth, lava_boy, pipermstealer, and 122 others

shark_girl happy three million years with my boy!!! i love u so so so much leo 🫶🏼🫶🏼

tagged: lava_boy

View all 16 comments

lava_boy who is that sexy man in the 2nd slide

→ shark_girl idk i found him at the store……

lava_boy we’re literally like this 🤞🏼👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

lava_boy te quiero !!

→ shark_girl 🤍🤍

lava_boy ugh why do we literally solo everyone in new rome

→ shark_girl ntm on percabeth !!!!

→ percysbeth 🫡🫡

pipermstealer yeah you’re welcome 🥱

→ supermantaylorsversion i did all the work

→ pipermstealer i gave u the idea

→ lava_boy thank u jason 😒 thank u piper 🙄

→ pipermstealer i hope she leaves u

→ shark_girl woah guys no need to say that

percysbeth i support 🤫 (pls cook for me leo)

→ lava_boy on it 😎

lava_boy

🎶 ivy : frank ocean

Liked by supermantaylorsversion, shark_girl, and 98 others

lava_boy I would like to thank poseidon for being a father to my wonderful girlfriend of THREE DECADES 😎

tagged: shark_girl

View all 19 comments

shark_girl I THOUGHT THAT I WAS DREAMIN’ WHEN U SAID U LOVEEEE MEEE 😭😭😭

→ lava_boy the start of nothin 🦈

shark_girl i’m taylor lautner

→ lava_boy FORREAL

shark_girl hi bf 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

→ lava_boy hello girlfriend.

→ shark_girl 😭😭😭

pipermstealer no because you guys are actually cute

→ lava_boy ACTUALLY cute 🤨

→ pipermstealer what do u want me to say yall are actually ugly

→ shark_girl pipe it down a notch 😔

supermantaylorsversion he’s a romantic now

→ lava_boy erm i’ve always been one get out 🤓

percysbeth no cause yn has actually dressed up as a shark

→ lava_boy send pics or it didn’t happen

→ percysbeth check imsg

→ shark_girl i thought that was PRIVATE

→ lava_boy LMFAOO U LOOKED SO GOOFY

→ shark_girl you’re done….

｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ hello….. first smau done 😎 hopefully u really like this bc i died ten times whilst making it !!! uhmm pls lmk what you thought about it 🥲!!! i was sort of rushing at the end, so umm.. shhh 🤫…. @thelostheroo @amoosarte

also i will have a master list soon….???? (hopefully) and my requests are OPEN! so, plsplsplspls request…. con amor, mo!

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[saintjosie]

Hey, sorry for setting a bit of a depressing tone with this ask but im a struggling baby trans girl

Do you have any advice for coping with the thoughts of "i will never manage to mold my body into a woman's body"?

Right now i am unable to start transitioning due to multiple reasons - both social (especially family) and hrt accessibility related - and my biggest issue with my body is that it's just.. annoyingly masculine. Ever since i was 14 my legs had more and longer hair than my 30-something old cousin's husband. Ever since i was 12 i started feeling too ashamed of my body to wear short pants and it was only this year that i started feeling a bit more ok about it (I will not disclose my age publicly, but i am in university).

And it's like. It's so exhausting to look in the mirror and not only not recognise the face as my own, but often actively hate it. To look at my body and to barely tolerate it anymore

There are some things that i've tried. I've trimmed my leg hair (to a fourth of its original size), and the instant my parents noticed they mocked me. I'm trying to let my hair grow but not only am i getting bombarded with questions of "when are you gonna get a haircut/let me give you a haircut" from all members of my family, it's also in that incredibly awkwards state which i know i will have to push through, but it still makes it even harder for me to look into the mirror

Once again, sorry for the tone of this ask, but do you have any words of hope or advice?

im sorry youre going through all of that. its incredibly difficult and i feel for you. i think that one thing that i frequently see from people in the earliest stages in transition is the struggle of feeling like they will never see themselves in the mirror. and i get it. i was 29 by the time i started hormones and a big part of why i was scared to do it was because i also thought that i was never going to look the way i wanted to. and whether or not we like it, there is safety in being able to say, oh if i dont look the way i want to, then its better for me not to try at all. its a horrible feeling but its one that you've lived with for years and there is safety in the familiarity.

but that's the thing - no one ever looks 100% the way they want to. i dont know a single person who hasnt had the struggle of looking in the mirror and wishing they could change something. and yes, we as trans people face that much more than most other people but it is a human experience to want to change and better ourselves.

after four years of being on hormones, i still look in the mirror and see things i want to change but also that feeling is much much less now. and its not just the hormones either. i like the way i dress because i wear what i want to. i like my hair because i decided i wanted to grow it out and change the color. i stopped molding my appearance to fit other people's expectations. and in doing so, i found that liking something about myself mattered far more than if other peopled like it. so shave your legs! grow out your hair! when people ask you questions, dont answer or tell them to fuck off! you dont need to make excuses for yourself because you dont need an excuse to be who you want to be.

im gonna be completely honest with you - it will not be easy. and youre not going to wake up tomorrow and suddenly find that your entire perspective has changed. in fact it is very likely, and very human, to continue to question the decisions you make. but always remember, you know who you are. and if you dont know, then only you are capable of finding out. and so i say with all the love in the world, i hope you find yourself and learn to love yourself in the process <3

[simplydnp]

I thought they'd already used a red heart on twitter?

yes, anon, you are correct. it was a birthday tweet from dan to phil.

at the time... whew. it was a lot. universe shifting. rules being rewritten. it was a big deal. thing is, birthday tweets between the two of them have always pushed the line of sappy, and, generally, we let it slide. we didn't want them to ever stop the sweet birthday tweets. cause they're not really just for them, they're also for us. and, for me at least, it was always a little bit like... birthdays are private yknow? it's their things. so even though we went wild over the heart, there's plausible deniability there; it's a birthday tweet. they almost exist in a vacuum--never talked about by them after it happens. it absolutely set the tone for the year, even if we didn't know how much at the time.

but this, today? oh boy. oh god. alright.

they're both wild. but this is another level. firstly, phil's tweet. that is an extremely public declaration from one phil 'i dont cry' lester. he hardly ever shares those moments and experiences with us, so admitting it at all was like wow okay this is serious. the attempt to downplay the emotions but also hit harder with 'danny' like an overly fond nickname can save it. catastrophic. phil tends to keep all that close to his chest. but instead, he chose to broadcast it for all of us. he could've told dan (who was absolutely sat next to him) this. and i bet he did. but i bet he also needed people to know. everyone to know. as he posted it to both twitter and youtube.

and then dan. self-admittedly bad at taking compliments. known for talking extensively. always down to snark/self-depricate. replies with a heart.

no minced words. no disregarding praise. and not even a black one like he usually does. it's orange. on theme and in our face! the next closest colour to red.

he didn't have to say anything. but we once again find ourselves witnessing another intentionally public response. specifically chosen.

what does it mean? ask them. but it's fucking loud.